Archive of Our Own

three years ago.

“welcome everyone, i am mick and i will be helping you settle in your new routine as oner’s trainees.” 

dylan stared at the man in casual clothes in front of the group as he lazily guided them through corridors that looked the same until they reached the elevator. he walked slow as fuck a few steps ahead of everyone, which forced everyone to slow down as well to follow his godawful pace. mick pointed to a few doors on the way, explaining which ones were services related to them and which they shouldn’t meddle with. he didn’t explain much further than that and no one else asked, just followed his steps and then gathered squished together inside the tiny elevator. 

the group was not that big, only three other boys and mick, who looked bothered to be tasked to be in charge of them. he explained which floors they were allowed to go — first, second and fifth floor, dylan memorized — and how they should not think to go to any other. 

“the roof is fine, though, i guess.” he said at the end, pointing to the last button with the R by its side. “just don’t… you know?” he gestured something weird and one of the trainees muffled a laugh. no one knew if he meant sex or suicide, but both options seemed valid. silently, they nodded and mick turned around to press the second floor and close the doors. 

before the metal doors fully closed, a hand stopped it. 

“sorry!” the rushed voice echoed inside the small metal cubicle a few seconds before the door opened again, and his face became visible. the first thing dylan noticed were the puppy brown eyes framed by the fluffy hair all over his face. a few strands were glued on his sweaty skin. dylan looked away.“there was traffic nearby and i had to run half of the way here!” 

“and you are, uh…” mick gesture for him to complete with his name, not remembering him by his face only. 

“junn tangsakultham.” 

“ah, yeah, jun, the trainee.” mick nodded and stepped aside for him to come into the elevator too. “we don’t have a lot of space, so hang on for a bit. it’s only one floor.” 

the late guy, jun, glanced at the tiny space of the cubicle in search of a small opening that would fit him. despite his internal prayers, it was found next to dylan. he barely had time to glue himself to the metal walls before jun came and settled almost on top of him, arms on each side of dylan’s head, supporting his weight to avoid crushing him completely. he heard mick sigh loudly before closing the door, but apparently there were way too many people, they had to squish even more so it would close without issue — jun was further glued to him as a result. 

dylan tightened his grip on his notebook in one hand and avoided breathing too hard. jun was big, that was his first realization. dylan never really thought much about his own height, everyone said that he still had some growing to do and that was fine. however, he never felt so small next to someone. his head reached around jun’s shoulder, and in this awful position he was completely covered by him. the second realization was that the first two buttons of his baby blue shirt were open and exposed the skin that it was supposed to hide. dylan noticed that because his eyes were level with his chest and, well, he could see everything. the third realization was that jun smelled good, even all sweaty from running a few blocks. he was not sure if it was his perfume or shampoo, but the smell was intoxicating. 

the one floor ride seemed to take hours instead of only a few seconds. 

when the doors opened, mick walked off, everyone let out a relieved sigh and followed him out. because they were both at the very end of the elevator, dylan had to wait for all the others to leave before jun could detach himself from his place and allow dylan to have space to breathe again. 

“sorry for almost crushing you there.” jun apologized with an easy smile once they were in an acceptable distance again, following the group through a corridor that looked exactly the same as the ones he saw earlier. a few meters ahead, mick explained again which doors they could open and which they could not. 

dylan looked up at him, not sure what to respond to that. was it even something a person needed to apologize for? should he say ‘it’s fine?’ or ‘don’t do it next time?’ he bit his lip, but decided to just nod in acknowledgement before speeding up the pace to follow the group more closely. if jun was weirded out by him, he didn’t show, just adjusted his pace to match the group’s and turned to pay attention to whatever mick was saying. 

they were guided to a room at the very end of the main corridor, not far from the elevator, but quite distant from where people actually worked on the other side of the floor. nailed to the door, there was a wooden plaque with the name practice room 01 written on it. 

“well, this will be your practice room. the dance practices, meetings, and all the group activities will happen here.” mick opened the door as he spoke and stepped inside. 

the space was empty and big. wooden floor, white walls, huge mirror wall, tv, a small table and a closed laptop on it. were all the practice rooms supposed to be like that? dylan had no idea, he had never been a trainee before, but no one seemed to question it, so he just accepted it as it was to avoid embarrassing himself in front of those people. mick spoke again after he gave them enough minutes to explore, explaining their routines and what time they were expected to show up and leave the company from monday to fridays, he warned them that some coaches might require them to work on saturdays too. then, he pointed at the small table in the corner, saying that their individual schedules were already on the drawer. one of the youngest trainees rushed to get it and handed it to everyone. 

the routine itself didn’t look as crazy as dylan imagined. the trainees were only going to be together during dance practices and things related to media training — whatever that was. other than that, he had rap practices, then music composition and production, and then more media and marketing training, then more dance practices. they also could check extra classes if they were available, like acting or to be prepared to work in different fields like being a mc. 

“oh, i think acting classes will be nice,” he heard a voice behind him and quickly recognized it to be that late trainee, jun. dylan didn’t turn around to see him, just kept his eyes glued on the printed schedule in his hands as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “we can become those idols who have a full concert one day and then are starring in movies another.”

there was more laughter from the other trainees before someone else, he didn’t recognize the voice, spoke as well.

“do you think you can survive a crazy schedule like that?” 

“well, i can try,” jun sounded way too confident for someone who has never lived in this industry before. “if they can’t do it, why can’t i?”

“well, he got a point.” another trainee agreed. and there was shuffling behind him. dylan kept his distance and nonchalance towards this whole thing. “i think i will get into acting classes too.”

“i will see something about being mc, sounds fun.” 

“hmm, i guess i will use the time for extra dance classes.” 

“what about you?” jun, because of course it was him, tapped his shoulders and forced him to turn around and join the conversation. without an immediate answer to his question, jun raised the paper to his eye level and pointed to the printed letters on it. “are you going to do anything extra with us?” 

dylan blinked, not ready to be thrown in the middle of the talk like that. he wasn’t interested in any of the options, though, he only wanted to make music and as far as he saw it, there were no extra classes for it. 

“no.” 

“oh,” his answer seemed to stun him. was it that surprising? jun looked at the paper, then back to dylan, he seemed to want to say something more, but the moment his mouth opened, he was interrupted.

“that’s it from me,” mick announced, sounding way too relieved to leave them. he walked to the door and gestured for someone to come. a few seconds later, a tall, pretty woman showed up, dressed in a crop top, black cap and cargo pants. she looked very delighted to see them there, unlike the manager. “this is going to be your dance instructor, mai.” then, he turned to her and slowly stepped out of the room. “whatever you need, talk to her. you’re going to meet your other coaches and instructors along the week. talk to them if you need to. goodbye!” 

before any of them could stop him, the man slipped out of the practice room and disappeared among the corridors outside. mai blinked and forced a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. she took off her cap and threw it on the floor, running a hand in her hair to fix any strand out of place. the woman was beautiful and seemed nice enough, the complete opposite of mick. 

“well, i guess it’s only us now,” she said with a smile, sitting on the floor and inviting them to do the same. “why don’t we start by introducing ourselves? knowing p’mick, he probably didn’t do much to make you familiar with each other.” everyone except jun shook their heads to confirm that he had not put much effort in the trainees. when dylan got there, he just pointed to the small group next to the building entrance and started speaking about how to get things done. “i’m mai pimchanok, i have been working with idols here for three years and i will be in charge of this group’s dance practice. now, it’s important for us to trust and be comfortable with each other. dancing in a group is all about connection,” oh dylan didn’t like where this talk was heading. “so, what about we start by introducing ourselves to each other, hm?”

dylan bit back a curse. he hated those introductory moments. there was nothing about others dylan wanted to know, neither there were things about himself he wanted them to know. it was overall a waste of time. when dylan came to oner he was desperate to prove himself, but now that he was here, the reality of it was starting to make him reconsider. 

“i can start!” the youngest raised his hand, a huge smile on his lips as he got ready on his seat on the floor. “my name is nano, i am seventeen and i love dancing! i have participated in dancing competitions since i was eight! i may not be the best at singing, but i can work very hard and improve!”

nano was cute, that much dylan had to give him. he smiled brightly with his fluffy orange hair and soft eyes. he was dressed in oversized overalls, pastel pink striped shirt and so many accessories dylan thought he was a walking jewelry store. he managed to sound confident in his introduction, even though his fidgety fingers told a different story. next to him, jun gave him a thumbs up and mouthed a ‘good job’ that left him beaming. 

“i will be the next,” a doe eyed boy that sat on nano’s left side, close to the instructor, raised his hand and claimed all the attention to him. “my name’s thame. i’m nineteen and i certainly am better at singing than dancing,” the way he spoke, all bashful and slightly embarrassed, made most of them laugh almost adoringly. dylan just kept watching. “but i guess that’s part of what makes being an idol so interesting, we get to learn something new.”

an optimist, apparently. 

the instructor seemed pleased to hear the answer and nodded, welcoming thame to oner and saying that she would do her best to teach him and help achieve his dream. then, she pointed to another guy that sat beside dylan in a silent request for him to continue the introductions. dylan shifted uncomfortably in his seat now that his chance was approaching. 

“hello, everyone,” the guy in glasses greeted all of them with a polite smile. “my name is pepper, i’m twenty years old. i used to be part of a dancing club in high school, so i know a little bit about dance and how it works. i also sing.” pepper seemed like someone who could do everything, reliable. he didn’t look nervous at all, as if this was something he either knew how to deal with or was very confident in himself. 

all eyes laid on him, a silent expectation that weighed on his shoulders. just an introduction… he could do it, certainly. 

of course, he could. 

“hi.” he said first, with an obvious lack of enthusiasm that he promptly reprimanded himself for. should he pretend to be more excited? or friendly? that wasn’t a facade he could hold for long, though. “my name’s dylan zhou. i’m twenty and, hm, i make songs. i don’t dance or sing.” 

he stopped, but everyone seemed to keep waiting for something, dylan didn’t know what else he was supposed to tell them, so he looked down and waited for them to get the hint. his hands started to feel shaky and breathing was increasingly becoming a hard task and dylan was sure he was going to—

“well, i guess the best was left to the end,” jun’s voice seemed to startle everyone, including dylan, out of the uncomfortable silence he left behind. only when all eyes were not on him anymore he loosened the tight grip on his small notebook he barely noticed he had. “i’m jun, twenty too, and the only dancing experience i have is when i tried to impress my crush by doing a choreography in high school, but i fell from the stage and broke my leg. since then, i’ve tried to stick to what i’m good at: singing.” 

jun’s speech felt like a breeze of fresh air after the suffocating atmosphere dylan seemed to leave behind. everyone giggled and were swept by his story, asking for more details between laughs and whispers. 

dylan closed his eyes for a second to breathe and hoped his face looked somewhat normal when he opened them again. he thought he was successful, no one was paying attention to him anymore, not even the instructor — no one except jun. 

he was looking directly at him and when their eyes met, jun winked with a smile before turning to thame to answer a question about what his crush did when he stumbled off the stage. 

dylan felt the urge to run away increase inside his chest — and that’s what he did. almost tripping on his own feet, he excused himself, mumbling he would go to the bathroom, and left without waiting to hear for an actual answer from the instructor. 

—

dylan unlocked his door and an empty living room welcomed him.

the afternoon drained him so much, he felt like forty-eight hours had passed since he stepped inside oner’s building, not just four at most. after the whole introduction fiasco, p’mai asked them to watch a few videos about dancing and the importance of taking care of their bodies so they would be in good shape not only for practice but for the entirety of their careers as well. then, they were guided into some warm up exercises that helped them stretch in order to avoid pulling a muscle. 

“do it at least twice every day.” she recommended with a sweet smile before finally announcing that the first day was over. dylan felt exhilarated by the prospect of going home, but mai asked if they knew about the building’s cafeteria and when all of them shook their heads, she decided that a first day like that deserved a celebration: free coffee and snacks. against his own principles and wishes, dylan stayed.

the instructor bought a latte for everyone, except for nano, who asked for a hot chocolate, and they chose whatever snack they liked the most. dylan got a sandwich and retreated to sit down at a table away from the whole chaos that seemed to follow the four boys. they were energetic and easily connected with each other. it was quite enviable how at ease they felt in the presence of people they never met before. 

dylan never meant to stay there for longer than he needed, but he rushed it even more when he noticed stolen glances in his direction and the volume of their voices lowering to whispers. the script was laid out in front of him: they would try to find something in common to talk to him, maybe one at the time or all of them at once, until dylan was overwhelmed and crushed under their voices and questions and attempts at friendships. 

without opening space for discussions, he gathered his things and half-eaten sandwich and left the building with a hurried goodbye. 

now that he was back home, things felt like they were slowly slotting back into their places. 

dylan took off his shoes and locked the door behind him, his backpack thrown in the second-hand armchair in front of the tv as he made his way to the bed at the very end of the room, throwing himself in the mattress without thinking twice. there, in the lonely comfort of his apartment room, staring at the lifeless white ceiling as if it would bear all the answers he needed, dylan tried to rearrange himself into a somewhat functional person, and to do that he resorted to his good, old mental to-do list:

take a bath.

prepare dinner.

finish the last song of his new mixtape.

organize things for tomorrow morning.

think about breakfast.

jun– 

dylan sat up abruptly. 

“jun?” he voiced that last thought, furrowed brows as if somehow the answer would pop out in his brain. “what the fuck?” 

there was absolutely no reason for him to remember that name, especially in his free time. dylan let himself fall on the bed again and sighed, thinking hard about what could have called his attention from that guy. well, first, he was handsome. dylan would be a liar to say otherwise, and it was an objective fact, one had to be attractive to be an idol. this shouldn’t be surprising to dylan, 

second, it must be the introduction issue. well, yeah, he saved him up after that failed attempt at introducing himself in front of the group, but was that wink and smirk really necessary? should he even give it any attention? maybe that was him and his stupid mind going haywire over nothing, maybe it was the nervousness that weighed on him the whole day that was messing up with his head. 

he should rest. 

his phone vibrated inside his pocket, and dylan felt chills run down his spine. hesitant, he took it and unlocked it to check the notifications. 

soundstorm: your mixtape is almost ready! click here to finish editing the details! *automatic message, do not answer*

mother: are you still doing this? dylan zhou stop daydreaming, you’re getting too old for that

father: what do you think you’re going to achieve? your mother is stressed because of you. stop it and come back.

4 unanswered calls from ‘mother’.

mother: if that’s how you want to do it, fine. you don’t need to come back anymore. 

father: i saw the pictures online. i hope you’re happy with how disappointed we are. you had a good future, dylan, it’s sad you decided to waste it all. 

you have a new follower: @junnie_tang 

with teary eyes, dylan locked his phone and stood up from bed. 

he needed a shower. 

— 

after the first week as a trainee at oner, his days started to settle into something that resembled a routine. 

every day, he woke up precisely at six a.m., took a shower, had breakfast and worked for about thirty minutes on his mixtape. then, at seven, he left his small apartment and walked to oner’s building. it was not a long walk. at his pace, dylan got there in twenty minutes. he greeted the workers in the entrance hall and headed straight to the elevator at the end of the corridor, usually alone, and pressed the second floor button. more often than not he was the first one to arrive at the practice room. 

dylan liked those few minutes he had alone before everyone else got there and he eventually had to sacrifice the peace and calm. he enjoyed that fraction of time to write new lyrics ideas or polish a few old ones that still had a chance of being used for something. 

the practices were mostly focused on dance at the beginning, considering that most of them had little to no experience in dance, they decided that it would be good to focus on that to avoid sloppy performances after their debut, which was dylan’s absolute hell if he had to be honest. he wasn’t good at dancing, neither he enjoyed it. his body was stiff, he stumbled more often than not and most of the time they had to redo a practice because of his mistakes. p’mai had comforted him and said that it is fine to take his time to get situated in a new environment and activities. 

along the week, he only had a few hours for the composition and production classes he was promised, most of these hours he didn’t do much besides watching other producers work, he was barely allowed to sit down near one of the equipments before someone told him to go back to practice room 01 for a new round of dancing classes. it was upsetting, but dylan gritted his teeth and refused to let it show. 

most of his time at oner was spent sweating against the wooden floors and mirrored walls, watching others struggle to memorize the correct steps. that was not what he envisioned when he signed up, but if that meant his dream was coming true, then, it didn’t feel like a huge price to pay. 

the other trainees seemed to think that too. 

he rarely engaged in conversations with them, often he felt like he was not really part of that world, so there was no reason to approach them, but dylan liked observing and it became a bit of a hobby by now. he would sit down on the corner of the room with his little notebook in hand, turned off headphones over his ears and simply watched. 

thame was a star. that much he could tell by the end of the first week. he was nice, polite, sang beautifully any song he was asked to and even though he said he had no dancing experience, he still was one of the best dancers of the group. dylan had heard some whispers around the corridors as he made his way to the practice room every day, people were sure of thame’s talents and he was the top favorite for debuting. it was reasonable, the rapper mused to himself, thame was born the perfect idol, no company would waste him. 

then, there was pepper. he was communicative, reasonable and could easily solve any problem that arose. dealing with four other people under stressing schedules and new environments was a skill that dylan lacked, but pepper seemed to have in abundance. he was clear, gentle, respectful, charismatic enough for people to not get mad at him being nosy. he was someone trustworthy. to him, pepper would perform well as a leader. 

nano, on the other hand, was sweet but too emotional. he cried the first time his singing classes went wrong. it was a chaotic night at practice room 01 and even dylan was brought to try to comfort the inconsolable nano. everything was awkward and he left the building hoping his pats on his back were enough. the next day, the short dancer was hopping and laughing around as if yesterday never happened. needless to say, dylan didn’t understand him at all.

and lastly–

“hey, dylan!” talk about the devil and he shall appear, it seems. jun slid on the waxed floor until he was almost glued by his side. startled, the rapper looked around just to see everyone getting ready to go home. he probably spent too long in his own head, scribbling lyrics. but that didn’t explain jun. 

“what?” 

“are you not going home?” the question looked harmless, but it still unsettled him. the rest of the trainees tried to be discreet while stealing glances in their direction, obviously spending more time than was necessary organizing their belongings. 

jun was quite a puzzle for dylan. he was extroverted and charismatic, always talking too much, doing too much. he was loud too. it seemed that no matter where he went, he could hear jun’s voice. if he was in the building’s cafeteria, there was his laugh echoing off the walls; if he was in the practice room, there was his voice asking questions and proposing ideas to improve their performance. sometimes, even as he was in the company’s bathroom, he could hear jun gossiping with someone outside the stalls. 

to simply put: jun was everywhere and it was driving dylan crazy. 

“i am. why are you asking?” dylan pulled off his headphones and stuffed it inside his bag together with his pen and notebook. jun shrugged, but stayed put as he watched him with interest — in what only heavens know. 

“no reason. can’t i ask you something?” he nudged dylan with his shoulders, a small, inviting smile playing in his lips. dylan squinted his eyes, he didn’t know what jun wanted but whatever it was, it was prone to bother him for sure. they were not particularly close, along the week they barely exchanged a word outside what was necessary for the practices or regarding changes in the schedule. why the sudden interest now? noticing the silence, jun leaned closer. “what? did the cat got your tongue?”

instead of answering, dylan just stood up, gathered his things and left the room in a rush — hopefully it was fast enough to avoid anyone seeing his flushed face or hear his heart beating loudly in his chest. 

what a bother! 

–

dylan was sure there was something going on behind his back. 

he was not the paranoid type, at least he didn’t see that in himself, but this past week strange things were going on. he has been a trainee for around a month and not much had changed, his routine was the same, he barely did anything different. he woke up, went to oner, came back home exhausted and often slept while working on a few projects. then, he woke up again and the routine repeated. 

dylan was someone who enjoyed the monotone daily life, he liked the control he had over his hours, how each activity was perfectly time blocked to not overlap with others. maybe it was the lack of control over other aspects of his life that made him desperate to cling to the only thing he had autonomy over: time. this obsessive control he had over his routine was probably the reason he noticed something odd was happening. 

there were too many whispers when he wasn’t looking after dance practices, the talks always seemed to lose force whenever he entered the room. there were also the stolen glances he caught on the mirror countless times while they danced. dylan had no idea what was going on with them, if it was some sort of internal fight, or maybe they were close enough to gossip about the managers and instructors and didn’t trust him to be involved in the talks, whatever it was, it was small and quite insignificant in the bigger picture, but noticeable enough to bother dylan. 

whatever, he shrugged mentally shoving his dance practice clothes inside his bag after showering, it had nothing to do with him. dylan was alone in the bathroom, all of them must have left already since today’s session took too long to finish — which messed up his perfectly crafted routine — and all he wanted to do was go back to his room and lay down on his bed. maybe he could have more than four or five hours of sleep and enjoy a day without fatigue dragging him down.

“hello!” jun’s voice shattered any semblance of peace dylan could achieve for the rest of the night. 

the singer slammed the door open and startled the shit out of dylan when he stepped in as if he owned the place. he was fresh out of the shower as well, hair still dripping wet all over the floor and drenching his oversized black shirt. dylan looked away from him so fast, one might think jun was naked. 

“what are you doing here?” the rapper asked curtly, not looking up from his messy backpack. 

the footsteps approached him and shortly after, jun’s face was all he could see for a whole second. startled, dylan stumbled back, almost falling embarrassingly in the company’s bathroom, but maybe that fate was far more merciful than having jun holding his arm and pulling him back with more force than dylan could expect, almost sending both crashing on the other side if jun wasn’t able to stabilize himself fast enough. 

his body was glued to jun’s and its warmth burned dylan. 

with wide eyes and probably red ears, he pushed the singer to escape his hold and put a safe distance between them. jun seemed equally surprised, opening and closing his mouth for a while before actually speaking. 

“well, be careful in bathrooms.” he cleared his throat, trying to joke his way out of the awkwardness. jun looked up, hopeful that dylan would buy into his attempts, but the rapper just scoffed and turned to pick up the spilled items from his backpack, ignoring him. 

dylan hoped he would leave by his own accord, but obviously that was jun and he has been getting quite famous for being openly annoying, so he stayed put in his place, which forced the rapper to say something. 

“again, what do you want?” 

“look,” jun sighed. “we are worried.” 

“we?” he arched an eyebrow, not at all confused of who he meant, but more about why that was a topic in the first place. 

“yeah, we, the other boys,” he gestured outside, seeming a little shy for the first time in a whole month dylan has known him. “everyone is worried you might be feeling, hm, how can i say? alone? left out?” 

“i’m not.” dylan interrupted fast, too fast, and earned a distrustful glance from jun. 

“well, the point is, we want you to be comfortable with us,” he continued, not commenting on his defensive stance. “we are going to debut as a group, no matter how many of us end up together, it is not sustainable if one of the members is this closed off. we are supposed to help each other, as friends, as a family.”

family.

that word again. dylan was fucking sick of this word everywhere he went — what was even good about a family anyway? his was shit, he didn’t need a second one to add to it. he wanted to explode it all on jun, say how stupid it was, but he bit his lip and swallowed everything down. 

“i don’t need a family.” was all dylan said before throwing his backpack on his shoulder, making his way out of the bathroom, but jun held his arm and stopped him before he could go any further. the touch burned. 

“then at least let us be your group,” jun seemed determined to not let this topic drop, no matter how much dylan raised the walls. “and more, it makes all of us uncomfortable that you seem to hate being around us.” 

for the first time, it actually made dylan stop. was that what they were thinking? 

“i– i don’t hate any of you.” 

“i guess, but that’s not what it looks like. it would help if you, i don’t know, at least let us know you a little.” jun’s hand finally dropped his hand from his arm. he ran a hand through his wet hair, pulling it away from his face with a sigh. “no one wants you to feel pressured, but–”

“that’s why they sent you here?” dylan interrupted, eyes glued on his own shoes. 

“yeah, kind of. to be honest, i lost the rock-paper-scissors, that’s why you got me.” jun laughed, and this time it wasn’t as annoying as before, which made dylan look up. jun’s eyes were squinted, almost closed, and a bright smile was plastered on his lips. cute, a voice echoed in his brain against his wishes and dylan quickly shut it up. he blinked and tore his eyes away from jun. “but i am serious, and you might not think so, but everyone is crazy to know more about you. talk to them, i’m sure you won’t regret it.” 

talk to them? did that include jun too? or was he excluding himself from the proposal? 

“fine. whatever.” 

dylan turned and walked towards the door, avoiding expressing much as he made his way outside. 

“you better do it,” jun spoke again as dylan was almost stepping out of the bathroom. the rapper didn’t turn to look at him, but slowed his steps to almost a complete halt. “or else i will have to come to you again, and i’m quite sure you don’t want that.” he joked.

something in his voice made dylan turn around one last time. it was impossible to say what it was on his expression, but it stung a little. 

dylan didn’t allow himself time to think about it, scared of what he would find if he dug around something he shouldn’t and walked away from the bathroom. 

—

“are you okay?” 

dylan startled the moment he heard the voice coming from the door. he swallowed a whine and curled up more in his place in the corner of the practice room, feeling like a cornered animal. 

it was almost midnight and no one was supposed to be in the building anymore, all the trainees and instructors went home already and he was alone — he should be alone. only the corridor lights were on and it outlined the silhouette of the figure standing awkwardly in the door, but dylan didn’t really need any lights to recognize who it was, the voice alone was enough for his heart to beat out of its rhythm and he felt himself drowning in too many unknown feelings that he never felt before. 

it was jun. 

of course it was — it was always jun.

dylan thought he would be safe from everything if he stayed in the darkness, away from everything and everyone, but jun seemed to always find a way to know where he was. 

his phone blinked with a new notification, and chills traveled his body. he didn’t dare to look down, afraid of what he would see there. 

any attempt to voice a normal answer failed and he resigned himself to simply nod. that seemed enough.

“i, hm, i forgot my charger,” jun scratched his head, looking so painfully awkward and uncomfortable that for a second he looked like a whole other person. dylan never thought he would see him acting in any other way that isn’t extremely confident and bordering annoying these first two months. was that his fault? did he make him feel like that? “and, hm, you’re using… you’re using my charger.” jun’s voice brought him back to reality and only then he looked down at his own phone and noticed the white charger covered with puppy stickers. 

a few minutes ago, his phone notified it almost out of battery and he just got a random charger he saw lying around the room. he didn’t think— 

shit. 

“i-i’m sorry, i just– i needed one–” the effort to get the words out when his throat felt clogged up was immense, dylan was aware he must look and sound pathetic, and to make things worse, his rush to unplug the charger from the outlet allowed a few tears to escape and roll down his cheeks. he lowered his head and wiped them as fast as possible, hoping jun didn’t notice anything. 

“it’s fine. you can use it.” the pity in jun’s voice was obvious, it made dylan want to tear up more, humiliated. was he that bad? he didn’t expect to see anyone for the rest of the night, all his walls were left defenseless for a few hours, but trust jun to barge in the only moment he couldn’t defend himself. 

a new message notification appeared on his lock screen. it was a bad idea to look at it, but he was fighting a lost battle from the start. 

mother: then, don’t you dare come back ho…

“no, i– i don’t need it anymore.” he didn’t need to read the rest of the message to understand what was being said. dylan walked the few steps from where he was to the door feeling battered, defeated, lonely. maybe that’s what he deserved after all. “thank you–” his words were interrupted by a flat, robotic voice blasting from his phone.

happy birthday, dylan zhou. happy birthday, dylan zhou–

both of them jumped, startled. jun’s wide eyes looked at his phone while dylan desperately tried to turn off that damn thing. it was an automatic feature he found out once while playing around with his phone. in the first two years it was fun and he laughed every time it screamed ‘happy birthday’, but once his birthdays stopped being something he liked to celebrate, it became just annoying and loud. 

for some reason, he always forgot to turn it off.

when the voice finally stopped, dylan felt out of breath. 

he thought that being cast out of his family because he refused to let go of his dreams to work with music on his birthday was bad enough — although, it was hardly a surprise, he knew it was coming for years now, him becoming a trainee just sped things up — but apparently, the cherry on the cake was embarrassing himself in front of none other than jun. everything that could have gone wrong went wrong, and even the things he didn’t even account to — like jun — also managed to go wrong. 

dylan bit his lips to avoid crying. 

“is it your birthday?” and because it’s jun, he would never let that get past him. dylan looked away and turned around to get away from him. “why didn’t you say anything?” 

“it’s nothing important.” he wanted to sound cold and distant, but his voice was choked and he sounded close to tears. he was not going to hold on for much longer, dylan needed to leave right now–

“of course it is!” the sureness in jun’s voice made him stop midway, he just wanted to get his bag and run out of the practice room, but somehow his feet were glued to his place. “your birthday is the day you were born, and that’s a blessing you should be happy to have.” 

bullshit. 

that’s what it was. how could someone like him be happy that he was born — or worse, celebrate it? the past years, his birthdays became a torturous reminder that he was utterly left alone. there was nothing worthy of celebrating. dylan wished he could turn around and scream all of this in jun’s voice, so maybe he would stop being a bother and leave him alone. 

but the tears fell down on its own accord and he just stood there, unable to go or say anything else. dylan didn’t mean to cry, he shouldn’t even be sad — anger was supposed to take its place, like it always did, he was supposed to be seething and furious and curse the whole world and his parents and everyone else. he knew that, and yet… yet there he was, trying to muffle a sob. 

he was so stupid. 

jun didn’t say anything for a while. it was so silent that dylan thought he was left alone in the practice room, which would probably be the expected outcome and something he wished for. but when he finally felt like he could breathe better and the tears stopped, he turned around and a sigh escaped him when he saw jun there — dylan told himself it was a bothered sigh, not a relieved one.

“are you feeling better?” his question was almost a whisper, but dylan heard him loud and clear. 

“i– yeah.”

“then, let’s go.” 

“wait, what–” he didn’t have time to process his words, jun just ran to where he was, got his backpack from the floor and pulled him by his arm outside the practice room. dylan stumbled behind him, trying to follow his rhythm but failing miserably. “what the hell are you doing?”

“we’re celebrating your birthday, come on!” 

without any further explanation, jun sneaked outside oner’s building, dragging a very confused dylan by his hand. his pace only stopped after they were outside, the cold midnight breeze hitting their sweaty bodies almost uncomfortably. jun had a mischievous smile on his face as he looked around, searching for something. his hands were still intertwined in dylan’s and the rapper couldn’t help but stare at it, the touch burned, but he let it burn, after years of coldness it felt good to finally feel some sort of warmth. 

when jun found whatever he was looking for, he dragged dylan with him. they crossed empty streets and bright buildings on the way; the few people he saw wandering around were either tourists, workers from nearby food stalls or simply night-owls needing the chaos of the city. they crossed the street and turned right on the main road before finally stopping. 

it was a bakery. 

jun brought him to a bakery.

he felt his eyes fill with tears again. 

jun opened the front door and a little bell rang over their heads. the employee behind the counter quickly put on her best commercial smile and welcomed them. there were a lot of beautiful cakes and pastries displayed, all the flavors seemed amazing and he felt hungry just by looking at it — which reminded him that it’s been a while since he ate something. jun stepped closer to the counter and smiled back at her. 

“good evening, how much is the cake?” 

“our cake prices start at 700 bahts.” her smile faltered when she saw jun make a face at the price. dylan bit his lips to not laugh. 

“what about cupcakes?” he asked again, pointing to a chocolate cupcake at the very end of the display, far away from the others. 

“one is 20 bhat. or do you want the full set of cupcakes?” dylan watched jun reach for his pocket and pull out a few bills and coins. the employee's smile faltered again. 

“just one, please. and ah, can you write ‘happy birthday’ in the cupcake?” oblivious to her unhappiness, jun smiled and pushed the money towards her. she quickly processed the payment and got the chocolate cupcake ready with the words written with frosting. dylan hoped that the soft background music from the bakery was enough to hide how fast and loud his heart was beating. “how much is a candle?” the woman visibly sighed at the question and pointed to a few sealed candles behind her.

“five baht.” 

“oh. then just the cupcake is fine, thank you.” 

“thanks for choosing us, we look forward to serving you again.” she waved politely at them, although the tone of her voice screamed that she would rather do anything than having two poor guys bothering her at midnight. 

with the cupcake in one hand and dylan’s hand in another, jun pushed the door open and dragged him to the bakery outdoor table. over the table there was a parasol with an orange lamp turned on. jun gestured for dylan to sit on the chair and he quickly sat on another one across from him. he carefully put the cupcake on the table and got his phone, typing something on it in silence before turning the screen to dylan. 

it was a digital candle. 

a tear escaped his eyes. 

“come on,” jun whispered, a soft smile on his lips as he gestured towards the candle. “make a wish and blow out the candle.” 

dylan let out a choked laugh at that. 

“that’s stupid.”

“that’s tradition.” jun corrected, sounding way too sure of himself for dylan to try to argue against him. 

the rapper bit his lips and nodded. he closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. a wish? it’s been ages since he wished for something like this. there were so many things to ask he felt overwhelmed just thinking about it, but there was one… it always felt like it was too much to ask, too much to have even, that was something he never once dared to voice or even think too much. 

but here he was, at midnight, sitting outside a bakery with a single cupcake and a digital candle in front of him. the scenario was so ridiculous it felt fitting for such an absurd wish. 

i want to be loved, he secreted to the heavens, i want to be loved so deeply that i will never be scared to be alone again. 

and when he opened his eyes, jun was right in front of him, smiling so brightly and genuinely that for a second he had a glimpse of what his life would be like if his wish was granted. 

and he loved it.

oh no — he loved it way too much. 

jun touched the screen and the candle was blown out before it exploded in confettis and a big happy birthday appeared on screen. dylan blinked, feeling a little dizzy with the thoughts that desperately tried to leave the depths of his mind — the rapper forcefully shoved them all back. 

“happy birthday, dylan,” jun’s voice made him look up. he pushed the cupcake towards him with a smile. “it’s not a lot, but think of it as my birthday gift for you.” 

“i– thank you.” he couldn’t stop a small smile from blooming in his lips as he held the cupcake. on top of it there was a happy birthday written in a rush with blue frosting. 

he looked at it for a moment, then looked up at jun again and sighed. dylan ripped the outside paper, carefully split the cupcake in two and handed him the other half. the singer parted his lips, surprised. 

“why- why are you giving me?” 

“you bought it.” 

“yeah, for you.” jun pushed his hand back. dylan frowned at that. 

“but i don’t want to eat alone.” he said as he  handed it to him again. it was just a cupcake, yeah, but dylan had his fair share of eating alone on birthdays. even if it was only once, even if it was only a single cupcake, he wanted to share it with someone. 

something in his face must have convinced jun because he nodded and took it from his hands. dylan tried to not think too much about how their fingers brushed against each other, or how his heart was beating way too fast and blamed everything on the stress he felt the whole day.

and maybe it was the atmosphere, or the sudden sugar increase on his bloodstream that made an unhurried talk start between them. jun told him about a funny episode that happened when he was a kid at home. dylan caught himself laughing at his absurd stories and awfully engaged in everything he had to say. probably when the morning came he would have the urge to pretend he didn’t do any of that, but now it was almost one a.m. and he was celebrating his birthday. 

he allowed himself to be silly for a night. 

“i think we should go home now.” dylan said, two hours after they finished eating their cupcake.

most of that two hours was spent hearing jun’s stories and random thoughts on things he certainly had no curiosity in, but sounded the most interesting in his voice. fortunately, the bakery employee didn’t kick them out, so they could at last be sitting somewhere other than the cold hard floor. 

“uh… about that,” jun laughed sheepishly, looking away from him to play with his dead phone on the table. dylan tilted his head, confused. “i kind of don’t have money to go back?”

“what?” dylan almost yelled, too stunned to say anything else. what does he mean by not having money to go home?

“well,” jun scratched his head. “we, hm, ate my bus money.” he pointed to the crumpled cupcake paper on the table. 

a long moment of silence stretched between them before the realization hit dylan like a truck. 

“you are so stupid!” 

“hey!” 

“why would you spend the money if you had to take the bus to go back home?” jun was so dumb dylan felt the urge to slap his head. there’s no way someone would think that was a good idea. 

“but it was your birthday!” he argued back, as if that was justifiable enough. to dylan, it wasn’t. “i couldn’t just leave you without celebrating it. it goes against my principles!”

dylan groaned, burying his face in his hands at how much of an idiot that guy was. seriously, he was going to be the death of him if he kept that up. 

“and what are you going to do now?” the rapper sighed, running a hand against his hair. jun sat more comfortably on the chair and shrugged, unconcerned. 

“i don’t know, maybe sneak back into the practice room and take a nap there. we have some hours before the company opens. maybe i can borrow the money with someone after practice.” 

it was a dumb solution. 

dylan wished he could say that. he had no reason to really worry about that because his apartment was not that far from oner’s building. he could walk back just fine, maybe he could even invite jun for the night, but that would be weird and knowing him he doubts jun would accept. the rational thing would be just wishing him good luck and saying goodbye.

but dylan was starting to think he might be a little stupid, too. 

“then let’s go.” he sighed and stood up with his bag in hand. jun visibly startled and frowned, confused.

“huh?”

“sneak back inside the building.”

“wait, why– why don’t you go home?” even confused, jun still got up and followed him like a puppy. dylan shrugged, faking nonchalance as he made the familiar way back to the company. 

“there are no more buses that go to my house at this hour.” he lied, keeping his eyes on the street to make sure there were no cars before crossing the road. jun ran after him without worrying to check too, blindly trusting him. dylan shook his head and kept walking. 

“really? i guess we’re both a little unlucky.” 

“i am unlucky, you are just stupid.” 

“hey!”  

dylan couldn’t believe what he was doing the whole way back to the company. 

as he sneaked in silently without alerting the guards, dragged by hand by jun around the corridors and stairs, until they reached the practice room again. he kept repeating in his mind how much of a fool he was for doing this. but jun was giggling so much the whole way upstairs, whispering to him how he felt like he was an action movie star and how fun it was to do that with someone— so what was dylan supposed to do? 

he was a fool. 

a fool that was walking a road he was sure there was no way back. 

—

“you sure write a lot of songs.” jun’s voice startled him from his almost slumber on the studio chair. 

he blinked awake and sat better. he was there for a few hours now, and this damn song was consuming all his brain power and energy like a parasite. oner producers said they liked the overall idea of the song, said it could be a good practice for him to fully produce it and he could double it as a group project with the other trainees too. 

the idea was fun and exciting two weeks ago, but he had been stuck in the middle of it for a while now. the lyrics didn’t fit with the beat, the instrumental was too noisy and bothersome, the production felt shallow and didn’t carry the meaning he meant to. a big part of dylan wanted to give up, admit that it was not working so he would rather focus on something else, but his stubbornness would be his death, so he couldn’t bring himself to. 

now, dylan was stuck day after day in the company studio trying to make everything work. he didn’t expect jun to appear there — but he was starting to get used to jun’s endless surprises. he was just too unpredictable for someone like dylan. 

“what are you doing here?” dylan took off his beanie and ran his fingers in his hair just to have something to do with his hands. if he spent too much time idle near jun he started to think and feel weird things. 

those symptoms had been affecting him since his birthday and still didn’t disappear. 

“brought you some coffee.” the singer raised a cup of coffee in his hands with a little smile. dylan silently watched him approach and put it on the table. it was written in his face how awkward he was — it must only mean he was sent here by the others. 

that was not something that common anymore. almost two months after his birthday, dylan felt like he was slowly improving his communication abilities with the other trainees, some days he even ate with them at the cafeteria — yeah, he barely contributed to the conversation, but being there seemed to be enough — so the amount of whispers behind his back and stolen glances dropped drastically. dylan wouldn’t say he was close to anyone in particular, not even jun, but it felt less like they were strangers locked together in a room asked to dance and sing. 

so, it felt strange to feel like he was in the middle of an intervention. different from last time, he wasn’t around enough to notice if the signs were there. he was so tired and stressed with the song production that every time they had any schedule together he just wanted to get over with it. honestly, dylan didn’t expect they would think too much of that. looks like he was wrong. 

“did you lose on the rock-paper-scissors again?” the rapper asked as he reached for the coffee and sipped on it, hopefully it would hide the small smile that threatened to bloom on his lips. it’s been some time since they got any opportunity to be alone like that. there was always someone around these days, either a coach or another trainee or mick–

well, it’s not like dylan was actively trying to be alone with jun. because he was not. it was just a… general observation. 

“you could say that.” he answered, bending down to pick up all the crumpled papers dylan had thrown on the floor in his infinitely frustrated state. “they were worried you’re working too much.” dylan hummed at that. seemed like something they would think. 

the coffee was sweet and hot, not too strong and with just a little bit of milk. exactly how he liked it. dylan lowered his eyes to the cup in his hands and wondered how jun knew that. he was there most of the time when dylan bought coffee in the cafeteria, but he was never aware he paid attention to that. either that, or he was just good at guessing people’s favorite coffee. 

jun uncrumpled a few of the papers and read them. he hummed as his eyes danced on the ripped pages. dylan looked away, suddenly too aware of the fact that jun was reading his songs, his brain coming up with opinions as he read and the fact that dylan felt anxious about it was concerning. why should it matter? it shouldn’t. it didn’t. what jun thinks or does not think has nothing to do with him. 

“these are not the finished things,” dylan caught himself saying before he could stop the words from leaving his mouth. shit. “i’m still working on a few parts.”

“really?” jun mumbled without looking up from the papers. dylan took a big gulp of coffee and let the burning in his mouth and tongue distract him from how much his heart leapt in his chest. “they look good to me.”

unintentionally, dylan let out a relieved sigh. 

“hm, thanks.” he whispered back, turning to the computer to continue working on the song. he was awake now and suddenly motivated to finish it even if it meant more headaches. 

for… no reason at all. 

the sound of paper being folded echoed behind him, and dylan tried to not imagine jun carefully folding the paper with his lyrics, treating it as if it was precious and not just trash. he refused to turn around and check, the mere idea was already affecting him way too much, he didn’t need the visuals as well. 

everything felt weird for dylan when it involved jun. 

sure, they were not best friends or anything. he was far from someone dylan would trust with a lot of things, but it was hard to say jun was just anyone. dylan didn’t have the ability to lie to himself that much. his heart always went crazy inside his chest whenever they were close, most of his thoughts ended up spiraling out of control and the central point was always him. whatever that was, became even worse after his birthday and the cupcake they shared in the middle of the street at one a.m. 

that moment had been haunting his dreams night after night, and dylan was starting to consider he might have gone completely insane. 

jun walked closer to where he was and sat down in one of the spare chairs that were put away in the corner. dylan tried to not stare as he rolled his way to his side until their knees were touching. jun’s scent was everywhere, it made dylan want to pull him until they were glued together just to smell it better. 

dylan shook his head discreetly, blinking fast in vain attempts to not let himself get lost in those thoughts again, especially when he was so close to jun. 

“you’re quite romantic at heart, aren’t you?” the singer’s voice made him turn to look at him, surprised both by the question and by the way he was leaning on the table, staring into his eyes as if he wanted to see something. 

dylan didn’t know what he was searching for, but he gulped, scared he would find it. 

“what– what do you mean?” 

“your song,” jun raised the folded papers and let his eyes wander from it to dylan. “it’s romantic.” 

the rapper gulped and looked away once again, unable to hold the gaze — it felt too bare, too dangerous. 

“it’s only a song.” 

“is it?” jun unfolded the paper and slid across the table until it was in his view again. dylan didn’t need to read it all to remember what was written, he was the one who created it, after all. it’s still fresh on his mind, every hidden confession, every confused feeling translated into words, including who it was written for.

“mhm,” that was all he managed to say while he kept the facade of an unaffected person trying to mind his own business. it was hard to measure how much it worked when his eyes were forcefully glued to the screen. “don’t you know how creativity works?” dylan added, because he thought that just a hum made him look ridiculous. 

for a long minute, jun didn’t say anything. he just watched dylan work in silence — which was rare and unsettling. he was used to his loud voice and unsolicited comments. it made him wish, for the first time, he said something. the lack of distraction made dylan have to actually work instead of just pretending to do something, like he was doing before. there was no talk to occupy the space and now that jun decided to not tear apart his eyes from him, he had no other option than to put in some effort. the soft, slow instrumental he had been working on for a while echoed in the studio like a protagonist of the show they were putting on. 

he wanted to turn to him to ask what the hell did he want? was his goal there just to bring him a coffee? if yes, then why wasn’t he going out? 

“have you ever been in love, dylan?” the question came out of nowhere, it made dylan whip his head in his direction, flabbergasted and speechless. 

in his chest, his heart was out of control. 

“wh-why?” 

was it because of the song? did jun really put the points together and guess who it was about? dylan didn’t expect him to be able to do that, but if he did, what was he going to do? 

“since you write so well about it, i got curious,” his eyes left dylan’s and hovered on his face. the rapper felt like he was going crazy when he caught his eyes dropping to his lips. “maybe you’re writing about your partner.” 

“i dont– i don’t have a partner.” he choked out the words. a shadow of something seemed to play on his eyes, but it was so fast that dylan might as well have gone completely crazy and created it himself. jun leaned closer, the wheels of his chair squeaking as he rolled in his direction. “never had one.” that was probably unnecessary, but the words, again, spilled from his lips and he had no control of it. 

jun’s hand touched the sides of his face. dylan felt like he lost a battle he wasn’t aware he had entered.

“that’s surprising.” his eyes travelled around each part of his face and, again, stopped on his lips, this time for a longer moment. “have you kissed anyone?” 

the question took the air out of his lungs. his perfume was the only thing he could smell, his touch burned on dylan’s cheeks, but it was, oh, so addicting. he wanted to be scarred by it — the thought both scared and excited him.

jun was so close that it made it impossible to say anything else than the truth. 

“no.” 

“do you want to?” 

in any other moment, with anyone else, that question would make dylan frown, stand up and walk away from whoever proposed it because it was ridiculous. that was what he probably should have done at that moment too, but fuck, it was jun in front of him. 

jun who was loud and unpredictable. jun who sang beautifully every pop song in existence while practicing. jun who dragged him to celebrate his birthday at almost one a.m. and bought him a cupcake with his bus money. jun who was the prettiest person he had ever seen and was so close that a single movement would glue them together. 

what else should dylan say? 

could he even say anything other than a breathless “yes”? 

the simple touch on the sides of his face turned into a tight grip as jun pulled him closer and kissed him.

it took the air out of his lungs. it was nothing more than a simple press of lips, but felt life changing in a way dylan might never be able to put into words. jun’s free hand pulled his chair towards him until the space between them kept decreasing. 

dylan didn’t have a lot of experience with kissing, never felt attracted to anyone to the point of wanting to kiss them, so he sometimes wondered if his lack of experience would pose a problem. surprisingly, with jun it wasn’t. the hand gripping the sides of his face slid to his neck at the same time he kept kissing his lips, sucking and lightly biting them until dylan couldn’t stop the low moan that escaped his throat. 

jun broke the kiss, but his hands were still in its place on dylan’s skin — burning, holding, breaking, all at the same time. he breathed in and it made the rapper remember to do it too. when he opened his eyes, he basked in the view of jun’s breathless, flushed face, lips parted and disheveled hair. dylan didn’t realize the mess he made. 

he was absolutely breathtaking, so stupidly–

“beautiful.” jun whispered dylan’s thoughts, his voice so, so soft that it was almost swallowed by the instrumental in the background. 

dylan felt his face heat up even more, thrown off guard, but before any thought could be developed in his mind, jun pulled him again into another kiss. 

he was sure that there were deep, terrible, implications and consequences for what they were doing. first, they were not dating. second, they were trainees, soon to be idols in a big company. third, they were supposed to become friends — not that. never that. 

his mind could come up with countless scenarios that were problematic and could destroy everything he was working towards. unfortunately, all of those rational thoughts were drowned by jun’s soft gasps and heavy breathing close to his ears when his lips left his and trailed down his jaw. 

rationality was damned for a while. he didn’t need it if he had jun’s warmth all over him. 

the singer kept pulling him close, a hand sliding down his waist until he was almost out of his chair and sitting on his lap. it was easy to feel comfortable in his arms, at that moment dylan didn’t think he would be able to deny jun anything — on the contrary, he wanted to ask how much more of him he wanted. it was so, so easy that, later, it would probably scare dylan. nonetheless, at this moment it made him melt in jun’s embrace until he was sure there was no way to turn himself back into someone whole and fully detached from him.

before anything could escalate further, they heard a knock on the door. 

“dylan, did you finish your song?” 

the rapper startled. jun too. both broke the kiss. jun rolled his chair away from him to check if the door was still closed as he let it. 

was the room that cold before? 

dylan stood up from his seat, legs feeling like jelly and hands way too shaky to be healthy. he tried to will the redness in his cheeks away and fix his messy hair before holding the door knob. he felt too aware of jun’s eyes on him, but had no idea what it meant or if it meant anything at all.

when he opened just slightly the door, one of the producers, who doubled as his production teacher, was there. he seemed unbothered and unrushed, which meant he could sneak jun away before anyone saw them there. 

“hi, i’m almost done, khun, just a minute. i need to organize everything.” 

“alright, text me when you’re done.” 

with that, he left. 

he didn’t comment on dylan’s hoarse voice or weird demeanor. maybe he was better at hiding than he thought. jun was still on the chair, watching everything with an amused expression. the rapper checked one last time if the producer was really out of earshot before turning to jun and opening the door more. 

“you have to leave.” 

“wha–” he jumped out of his seat, but quickly recomposed. the smile on his lips this time bothered dylan more than he liked to admit. “well, alright. see you at the practice tomorrow then.” 

jun waved goodbye as he made his way out of the studio before dylan could say anything else. the door slammed on his way out. 

now, alone, he was unsure if he did the right thing — but if it was about the kiss or about sending jun home, he didn’t know yet. 

dylan touched his lips, almost reverently, fearing the answer deep down he already knew. 

—

the rain was unexpected. 

dylan was in the middle of the street, it would take around ten or fifteen minutes to get to oner’s building, but he couldn’t bring himself to run to find shelter like the others. people bumped on him in their rush to not get drenched, and he probably should do it too, but there was no urgency in his steps as he slowly dragged himself across the, now, empty streets. 

all the thoughts consuming his mind ended up on the kiss. 

whether he was awake or sleeping, free or busy, alone or among other people dylan’s thoughts were perpetually haunted by jun. 

jun’s lips on him. 

jun’s tongue inside his mouth.

jun’s arms gripping his neck and waist.

jun’s warmth against his cold body. 

jun’s heartbeat, loud and strong under his fingertips. 

jun, jun, jun. 

dylan couldn’t free himself from his ghost. when he laid down on the bed to sleep, there were the phantom touches on his body, if he closed his eyes dylan could still see jun’s flushed face, red ears, darkened brown eyes staring at him as if he was seeing something, each slight touch or change in expression was still carved in dylan’s memory. 

he wanted it to stop. he wanted more. he never wanted it again. he wanted it forever. 

the contradiction of it all was making him unable to function properly. it broke his routine, shattered the comfortable monotony of his overplanned daily life, turned his predictable days into a constant surprise. it never happened before, not even when everything went shitty and he left his parents’ house to pursue music, because that too was planned, he just didn’t know when that plan would be put into action, but his mother’s disappointment and his father’s outburst was all too predictable. dylan just needed to get ready. 

but with jun… he never planned for jun, never expected him to do anything even remotely close to that. it shook his bases and had him scrambling to have any sort of resemblance of control. because without any, dylan felt vulnerable, exposed, seen. and that was never a good combination. 

“...lan... there?” 

now, what was dylan supposed to do? those feelings kept spilling all over him and he didn’t know what to do with them, he never had to deal with anything like that. all of his plans felt useless against the upcoming thunderstorm that was jun. 

“...ylan! are you listening? dylan!” 

the voice reached his ears over the loud sound of rain hitting the pavement just mere seconds before a hand gripped his arm and pulled him strong enough to make him stumble all the way under the colorful roof of a closed café. dylan gasped when his body hit another, so solid that it not only prevented his fall, but steadied him. he blinked, trying to detangle himself from his spiraling thoughts to focus on his surroundings. 

first he saw the street under the heavy rain, then he saw a gray sweater. he didn’t need much more to recognize who it belonged to. 

“jun…” and sure as hell, there he was. as drenched as a puppy, hair falling over his eyes and his gray sweater clinging to his body. given their height difference, it was easily noticed by dylan. 

it was the first time he saw him after the kiss. the weekend that followed it had gone too slow, but also too fast. he spent these two days locked in his room, not even attempting to function normally as he relieved hour after hour of everything — kiss, touch, eyes, warmth, hold. and in those two days he wondered how he would react when he saw him again, what would they say to each other? would jun comment on what happened? would he pretend that nothing happened? what was the norm for that? 

now, he was being held by jun again, under less than ideal circumstances, and the answer was still unknown. 

“what were you doing in the rain?” jun’s brows were furrowed and he seemed torn between anger and confusion about his behavior. 

why would he even care, though? 

dylan tried to be rational, logical, realist, about it and hammer into his head that it might mean nothing. jun was a nice person, that was a fact. annoying, loud and unpredictable? yes, but an overall good guy who knew him and would naturally worry about a friend — acquaintance? fellow trainee? lover? where they stood now? that was another question for the countless ones that seemed to linger around his head since they kissed.

he bit his lips and looked away, anywhere was better than jun’s face, or lips, or body, or anything that belonged to him. dylan settled for the wet pavement.

“going to the company.” he answered, and it was not a lie, but that was probably not what jun meant to ask, or wanted to hear. 

the singer scoffed, his hands letting go of his arms and leaving dylan’s body unprotected against the cold wind carried by the storm. a part of him, still small and timid, wanted to ask for him to keep the touch where it was, or maybe pull him closer, but dylan quickly buried that in a dark, abandoned corner of his mind. 

“it’s not even that late,” jun looked at his watch, checking the hours before turning to dylan once more, confused. it really seemed that none of the ghosts haunting dylan for the past forty-eight hours had even got closer to jun. maybe they were all with him. “look at you! you look like a wet cat!” 

that silenced immediately all the thoughts, and not even his fast heartbeat was echoing like a drum in his ears for a solid minute.

a wet cat?!

flabbergasted, dylan frowned and looked down at himself while he tried to see what could have prompted that comment. there was nothing about him that resembled a cat, much less a wet one! dylan ran a hand through his drenched black hair and pushed it back, because maybe it was his hair falling all over his eyes that created the resemblance? or was it his white sweater that clung uncomfortably to his skin? it was not even a furry sweater, though? 

he only looked up at jun again when he heard a barely contained laugh escaping him. jun seemed to have his fair share of fun stressing dylan in countless ways possible. the rapper tried to stop the way his heart was beating out of rhythm at the sight of jun’s bright smile, it was nothing much and he shouldn’t have noticed how his cheeks raised up, or how his eyes twinkled under the grayish light of the day. 

dylan was doing his best to not let himself get carried away, but unfortunately, the daily battle he fought seemed to get harder and harder to win — maybe dylan just wasn’t aware that he had lost for a while now. 

“well, and you look like a wet dog!” dylan retorted, scrambling to have some sort of leverage on him. tragically, that only made jun laugh more. suddenly angry at the whole situation, and embarrassed too, dylan turned around to walk away, hoping that being alone for a while would fix whatever was wrong with him at that moment, but jun’s strong grip stopped him and dragged him back under the colorful roof. 

“stay here.” he said without looking at him, eyes glued to the rain falling heavily on the street. “we still have time.” 

dylan bit his lip and nodded, staying put by jun’s side.

they watched the rain together in silence — they had time. 

“oh my, look at you!” p’mai gasped when both of them arrived at the practice room. all eyes turned to their drenched selves with a shocked expression. “you are dripping wet! do any of you have any spare clothes?” the question was directed to the whole group, who shook their heads. 

“i think i have something in my locker,” jun said after thinking for a second or two. then he turned to dylan. “let’s go.”

“wait, why?” 

“to get you new clothes.” he answered as if it was obvious. dylan arched an eyebrow, still not understanding his point. he didn’t have any spare clothes, so why would he go? his plan was to simply sit in a corner and wait for his clothes to dry by themselves. apparently, that was not what jun meant. “i have some for you too.” 

“i don’t need to–” dylan barely had time to express his disagreement before their instructor clasped her hands together and smiled in relief. 

“that’s great, thank you, jun!” 

she gestured for them to go quickly and take care of those wet clothes before they got sick. the singer didn’t need to be told twice to promptly hold his arm and drag him down the corridor, past the bathroom, to a small locker area. it was not a big thing, just six lockers together on a wall, each door with their names printed and taped on it. nano and thame decorated their locker, adding stickers of things they liked on the door, dylan on the other hand had kept his bare and barely used, since he lived near the company it wasn’t like he needed it for a lot of things. 

jun’s locker, though, was like he had brought part of his home and stuffed it inside it. there were towels, textbooks, medicine, and a few sets of spare clothes. dylan wondered if the fact that he seemed to live quite far from downtown was the reason he had so many things available at the company. his eyes flickered back to him while jun was distracted with choosing the clothes he would use and the ones he would give to dylan. curiosity bubbled inside dylan, he wanted to ask more — wanted to know. 

jun was a whole new world that he felt the urge to explore after having a taste of it for a day. that was a dangerous thing to think and feel, he knew that the results of it would probably leave him all wounded. 

was it worth it, though? dylan didn’t have the answer for yet another question. 

“here,” jun mumbled after sorting everything in his locker. he handed dylan a black, short-sleeved shirt and blue pants. “i think they can be a bit big on you, but it’s better than nothing, right?” he smiled, sheepishly. 

dylan held the clothes carefully and nodded, mumbling a thank you as he turned around to go back to the bathroom. he heard jun’s steps behind him, going in the same direction, but tried to not think too much about what was implied in the fact that he was going to the bathroom alone with jun after, well, they kissed. 

that’s silly, he reprimanded himself with a firm shake of his head, there’s no need to overthink again about it, it was just a kiss. nothing more than that. 

they stepped into the bathroom and dylan headed straight to one of the stalls. before he could even close the door, jun was taking off his wet shirt and throwing it inside the sink. the rapper froze in his place, unable to fully open or close the door as his eyes traveled up and down the big expanse of jun’s back. dylan knew he was an avid gym goer, besides the obvious way his body was built, he heard him talking to thame about his favorite exercises once. but it was one thing to know in theory, but it was another to see the results in front of him. 

dylan didn’t even know that it was possible to have so many muscles on a back like that. 

“like what you see?” jun’s voice startled him out of his stupor and dylan felt his face burn. 

“shut up and put on your clothes.” before he could see the cocky smirk on his lips for any longer, dylan slammed the door shut with a loud sound. he locked himself in it and sat down on the closed toiled, head in hands. “fuck.” the whisper was choked. he closed his eyes, but the images of jun’s body just flashed in his brain and it made him open them again. 

in a rush to focus on something else — anything — he stood up and took off his own wet clothes and let them fall on the floor. he grabbed jun’s shirt and unfolded it, it was black, oversized, with a few yellow stars printed on the fabric. dylan tried to not be weird about it, but the sweet smell made him bring it closer and sniff. luckily, he was alone in that stall, or else jun would surely tease him for his whole life. 

the shirt smelled like jun. 

without thinking twice, dylan wore it. 

it was not different with the pants, they were made of a soft and thick fabric, very comfortable to wear. unfortunately using jun’s clothes made ignoring whatever happened between them or jun himself  an impossible task to complete. dylan shook his head and pushed his wet hair back — he still had a long day ahead with all the training and practices scheduled, and somehow he had to focus on all that wearing jun’s clothes. 

it sounded like a sick joke. 

resigned to his fate, dylan pushed the door open and walked out of the bathroom stall. he hoped to see jun at least decently dressed, but alas, he was not. jun even had the audacity to look surprised when dylan appeared behind him while his chest was still bare for the world — or dylan, which was worse — to see. he wore only new pants, apparently too focused on trying to dry his hair with a small towel to put on a damn shirt. 

dylan had to forcefully rip his eyes away and avoid making it obvious he was staring at his body. 

“are you not going to dry your hair?” jun asked, almost innocently, as he looked in dylan’s direction. the rapper shook his head negatively and kept his attention fixed on the wet clothes he was throwing in the sink. “you’re so annoying.” the singer sighed before pulling him closer and trapping him between his body and the marble sink. “you’re going to be sick like this.”

“why– why does it even matter to you?” it was hard to keep himself sounding nonchalant and unbothered when a shirtless big man, who kissed him two days ago, was trying to dry your hair. not even in dylan’s wildest dreams he thought he would be in this situation, now he had no idea what kind of reaction he should have. 

“don’t fall sick while you are a trainee, dummy,” jun mumbled as if it was something dylan should already know, before using the towel to dry his hair. without meaning to, he closed his eyes upon the touch, the tension melting away almost immediately. “they might see that as an excuse to kick you out. don’t give it to them.” 

dylan simply hummed, the countless implications to his trainee life if he ended up sick didn’t seem to matter much at that moment as much as jun’s hands on him. the warmth that irradiated from his body, even if they were not fully touching, was comforting — and this was the scary part. 

it was too easy to melt under jun’s touch and attention. or maybe there was something wrong with dylan. both options seemed true and valid for him when he closed his eyes and didn’t fight the feeling of the towel against his wet hair, ruffling and messing it up to his heart's content. 

the safety and warmth of the moment let him relax enough to not notice the movements in his hair slowly coming to halt or jun’s step forward until his body was glued on dylan’s and there was barely space between them for him to breathe comfortably. only then, dylan opened his eyes. 

jun was so close he could see every mole doting his skin, tempting dylan until the urge to touch became too strong and he did it. his cold fingertip touched the small, round mark on his cheek. the soft skin made him a part of him he wasn’t aware that existed inside him to keep going. 

“you remember the kiss?” the mention of the incident made dylan look up, he felt like a deer caught in the headlights, ready to have its body hit by a speeding truck. startled, he let his hands fall from the thoughtless touch, but jun held it and moved it back to his face and placed it there. dylan gulped, face flushed, and nodded wordlessly. the singer leaned in a little more, their faces even closer. “want to do that again?” 

the mischievous glint in his brown eyes shook dylan to the core. 

he never thought that a proposal like this was possible. he spent so many hours wondering about what would happen after that first kiss, but in none of the scenarios jun was shirtless in the company’s bathroom, trapping dylan between his body and the cold sink, while asking if he wanted to kiss again. 

what would happen if he said yes? dylan was pretty sure that jun was not head over heels for him, maybe that was just casual — he heard about people who did it, just kissed for the sake of it, zero attachment — and even worse was to think how everything would turn after a second kiss, as if things weren’t messy enough with just one kiss between them. 

the more logical and rational decision was to say no and move on with his life while he still could. dylan was starting to feel like he was treading dangerous waters, trusting too much on his ability to make his way back to the surface. the waters were rising, so of course, it was better to refuse and run away. 

but for the second time, logic and rationality lost to the charming shimmer of jun’s eyes. 

dylan mumbled a choked yes, so quiet that it could have been lost in the heavy air, but jun got it — of course he did — and not even a second later his lips were on dylan’s. 

different from last time, where they didn’t know what to expect, this time it was easier to settle into a pace that easily pulled gasps and breathy sounds that were promptly swallowed by each other as the kiss deepened. jun’s hand slid down his body and pulled him closer. dylan tried to not let himself get carried away, it was just a kiss and that’s what people his age were used to doing, it didn’t need to mean anything — even if a small voice inside him begged for it to mean everything. 

dylan felt dizzy, drunk, the kiss was even better than the one that had haunted his memories. it was hotter, faster, easier to pretend that there was meaning behind. given more time, dylan would probably do something dumb and irresponsible, but there was a loud thud outside the bathroom and a familiar voice cursing before fading footsteps followed. it was not a lot, just enough to make jun break the kiss and look at the door. 

with the spell broken, the reality of the situation hit dylan too strongly to ignore this time. 

without thinking twice, he put a safe distance between them and mumbled something almost incomprehensible about leaving for practice and stumbled out of the bathroom. 

not even the strong air conditioners in oner’s building were enough to cool down how much dylan’s whole body burned. he couldn’t believe he did that again. it was self-inflicted torture at this point. if the first kiss wasn’t enough to fuck him up, certainly the second could. to make things worse, he still had the ghosts of jun’s body pressed against his, or the phantom sensations of his warm skin on his hands.

he had to get a grip — he needed to. 

p’mai saw him turning to the corridor and called his name, saying that practice was about to start. without any room to escape, he just nodded and hoped nothing in his face gave what just happened in the bathroom. the other trainees just asked him if he was okay, about where jun was, and pepper recommended a laundry store that could help dry his clothes faster. 

the instructor was midway through her explanation of the new choreography they were supposed to learn today when jun arrived, fully clothed and his hair now partially dry. he apologized for being late and sat down on the floor near thame. dylan avoided his eyes and hoped he would do the same. 

“what are you guys doing today?” nano asked once everything in their schedule was over. he already had his bag on his shoulder, was all sweaty and obviously tired, but the excitement was evident in his eyes as he shifted from one foot to the other. “a new ice cream place opened nearby, want to check it out?”

the invitation seemed to make everyone’s tiredness suddenly evaporate. dylan observed thame jump closer to nano, asking where it was and what was his favorite ice cream flavor, pepper smiled at the commotion and poked jun to ask if he was up to it as well. for a while, no one seemed to notice dylan crouched in a corner, organizing his bag.

“what about you, p’dylan?” nano’s voice made all the eyes turn to him. the rapper bit his lips and got up, his eyes flickering to jun without meaning to. 

“i… hm, i don’t think…”

“come on,” thame, sweet as always, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “it will be our first trip as a group!”

“a trip to an ice cream store down the street?” he couldn’t help but ask. dylan didn’t mean it as a joke, but they laughed. 

“well, everyone starts somewhere, right?” 

dylan looked around, it didn’t seem like they were secretly hoping he turned down the offer. thame had a hopeful smile, nano seemed to want to drag them out himself without a ‘no’ option, and pepper gave him an encouraging nod. jun… well, he was smiling too, but that smile held something dylan wasn’t able to read but didn’t reach his eyes, although it didn’t look like he was against the idea of him joining their little ice cream trip. 

without room to escape, dylan agreed. 

“great!” thame pulled him even closer and pointed to the door, dragging him along. the rapper thought he was imagining things when he saw jun’s eyes glance at thame's arm around him for a few seconds before he turned to the rest of the group again. “let’s go, mars!” 

the trainees laughed at him. mars was said to be the name of the group once they debuted, but to use it like that felt like they were already set to be together. dylan didn’t hate the idea. it was never in his plans to become part of an idol group, his main passion was music production and composition, but now that he was there, spending so much time with them, being in a group started to sound less dreadful than he thought. 

they left the building together, thame, jun and nano shared funny stories about their experiences before becoming trainees or with their friends and family, sometimes pepper commented on it, shared a thing or two, but most of the time he was just observing the loud trio by dylan’s side. it was good to not be dragged into conversations he didn’t want to participate actively. 

the ice cream place nano mentioned wasn’t really far from oner, the group arrived there in a few minutes and immediately settled in at the tables outside. thame, pepper and nano were the first to place their orders while jun and dylan went after. the rapper tried to not look uncomfortable, but every time he just glanced at jun the memories of their kiss flooded his mind without mercy. they had not talked the whole day after that, partly because dylan was avoiding him like a plague. 

was that happening with him too? or was that something he could easily ignore? 

dylan startled when their shoulders brushed as they reached for the syrup at the same time. jun looked down at him and smiled, getting the syrup before dylan could compose himself again. 

“you don’t need to think that much about it.” dylan didn’t expect him to say anything about it, but that was jun and jun was always unpredictable. the singer’s attention was on the syrup slowly falling over his mix of chocolate and vanilla ice cream, but his voice was directed to dylan as he continued. “it can be casual.”

“casual?” dylan frowned. he kept the same almost-whispered tone of voice, afraid that someone else might hear them and find out what they were talking about. 

“yeah,” he shrugged and seemed satisfied with the amount of syrup. jun looked at him again, offering the bottle to him. “no worries, nothing that can be a problem later. if we need something, we can just ask each other. a partnership, of some sorts. what do you think?”

a partnership? 

it had all the signs to be a time bomb ready to explode in his face. he understood the problem of having relationships as an idol, that was something that he was a heavy critic of, but a reality nonetheless, so it was understandable that avoiding it was the best thing to do. but can dylan really do it? jun seemed fine with it, so maybe for him, dylan didn’t mean that much and casual worked, which set both into an unequal position from the start. 

however, to reject it would mean never getting close to jun again. 

dylan accepted the syrup bottle with a defeated sigh. 

“sounds good to me.” 

—

the last supermarket aisle was for cleaning products. 

dylan strolled with his basket, distracted. sometimes he passed in front of the same shelf at least three times before he managed to actually see what he wanted and put it in the basket. his mind was swirling around the last talk he had with jun. 

partnership. casual. jun.

everything sounded so messy already. dylan was not someone who took thoughtless decisions, he loved planning and control, and jun was the complete opposite of it all. maybe his reckless self was starting to contaminate dylan without him even noticing. nothing about that deal, or whatever he called it, would end up good. 

with a sigh, dylan tried to push those thoughts away. he needed to buy groceries and he was doing everything but that. he shook his head and glanced at his list again. fabric softener. 

an idea — an awful one, if he was honest — popped up in his head, and he crossed the aisle to find the shelves with fabric softeners. there were quite a few brands to choose from, countless scents and specific uses, that he never really understood what the difference was. dylan never bothered much with it, as long as his clothes smelled good he was fine, by now he had a different goal. the rapper put down his basket and picked a random bottle from the shelf, opening it and smelling for a good second. 

“no…” he mumbled to himself. dylan closed it and put it back, he bit his lips before reaching for another one and opening again. “also not this one.”

the process repeated at least six times, each failure brought a fresh redness to his ears and he tried to not think much about how stupid he looked smelling every single bottle of fabric softener available in the supermarket. it was embarrassing, but he kept going. dylan reached for one of the furthest bottles, in an almost forgotten corner behind one from a famous brand. the bottle was simple, he never heard of the brand too, but when he opened and smelled it—

“that’s it.” dylan whispered, amazed. he closed and pulled jun’s shirt closer to his nose and sniffed it. it was the same smell. 

jun’s smell. 

dylan felt his whole face heat up as he put two bottles in the basket. 

—

when dylan woke up, things were much slower than he was used to. 

the clock ticked so lazily that one minute felt like an hour. he turned around to check his phone and his eyes widened when he saw he woke up one hour later than what he used to. not late for practice yet, but he didn’t have a lot of spare time either. sluggish, dylan pushed himself from the bed with great difficulty. it was a terrible idea to use his new fabric softener — the one with jun’s smell — on his bedsheets; it made it so much harder to leave them. 

his body felt hot to the touch, but he trembled with cold. dylan sighed, defeated, a fever was the last thing he needed. 

this past week had been hectic. he drowned in work, staying late for practice almost every day and skipping meals to make time for more production. recently he had been working on songs for extra money, it was not a lot but helped to pay for his rent and groceries. he didn’t earn a lot from oner, so he needed to make ends-meet one way or another. dylan didn’t mean to put his health in the lowest priority, but something had to be sacrificed. 

unfortunately, the price had to be paid today. 

taking a bath was a laborious task. the water was never in the perfect temperature, either burned his skin or made him shiver. there was no in-between. he sighed in relief when it was over, finally free to wear warm, comfortable clothes. dylan stepped out of the bedroom and checked the time again — 07.30 a.m. there was no time for breakfast, even if he had any appetite. he got his backpack, put on his shoes and left. 

with his slow pace and weak body, what was supposed to be a twenty minute or something walk to oner became almost forty minutes. dylan cursed his luck the whole way, blaming whatever he could for the state of his body — his parents, the company, the rain last week, the country. how was he supposed to go through almost eight hours of dance practice, vocal training and production classes like this?  he was miserable, feverish and in the worst mood possible. 

the idea of turning around and calling in sick was tempting, probably the most reasonable one, but he didn’t want to open up space for them to reject him. becoming a trainee was his last hope, he couldn’t — wouldn’t — let anything be an obstacle for that. his family was expecting him to fail and give up on that crazy dream of working with music, dylan was going to prove them wrong no matter the costs. 

he greeted some employees on his way up to the second floor, gritting his teeth and doing his best to appear as normal as possible. luckily, his naturally quiet personality freed him from questions about his well-being when he arrived at the practice room and sat in one of the corners. along with the early signs of a headache, his head was spinning and he felt a bit dizzy. dylan sighed and prayed for a quiet day at least–

“good morning, my friends!” jun’s booming voice shattered any prospect of tranquility he had. dylan pressed his hands tighter against his eyes and groaned. “what a lovely day!” 

so damn annoying. 

“someone’s in a good mood.” thame nudged pepper with a smile and gestured towards jun almost dancing his way into the room. 

“did you get a girlfriend, p’jun?” nano jumped to his side, wrapping a hand around his arm with big curious eyes. dylan shifted in his place on the floor, trying to push away the weird, bothersome feeling that clawed around his chest both at the question and at the proximity between those two. 

“not yet,” he grinned, unwrapping nano from his arm just to hold his hand and twirl him around in an improvised dance. the dancer giggled at that and let himself be led by him. and what the hell did he mean by ‘not yet’ anyway? “but maybe after i get rich and famous as a member of mars?”

that made everyone laugh. dylan tried to not scoff too loud at that. was he just waiting for a chance to be a womanizer after getting popular? as if someone would be able to like him when he was so… dylan’s eyes scanned him up and down, taking in his fluffy hair all messy on top of his head, flushed cheeks from probably running all the way to the company — he was always late somehow — and casually dressed in jeans and an oversized shirt. dylan cleared his throat and looked away.

yeah, nothing to thirst over. 

they talked about frivolous things for a few minutes more, the other trainees basking in jun’s good mood as if he was the sun himself. if dylan wasn’t so miserable, maybe he would have indulged a little bit too. he tried to busy himself answering a few work emails and drinking half of his water bottle in a single sip, anything to not let his attention wander back to jun. 

he just didn’t consider the singer coming in his direction. dylan startled when he looked up from his phone and saw him throw his bag by his side, sitting down close enough to annoy him. seeing the smirk playing in his lips, that was exactly his plan. 

“ayo, dylan, what’s up–” jun interrupted himself once he poked dylan’s cheeks. his eyes widened, and his hands quickly cupped his face, then one of them touched his own forehead before reaching for his again. dylan stopped him midway. “you’re–”

“shut up.” the rapper looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to them before turning to jun once again. “stop yelling.” 

“you’re hot!” jun whispered, clear urgency in his voice. dylan pushed his hand away and shrugged, faking a nonchalance that didn’t exist. 

“thanks.” 

“stop playing dumb,” he groaned, running a hand through the fluffy hair. dylan caught himself paying too much attention to the way it bounced and looked soft to the touch. “what are you doing here? you should be at home!” 

“i have to practice.” dylan shrugged, as if it was enough to answer. apparently, it wasn’t. 

“go back home, you won’t survive the day like this.” jun shook his head at the same moment p’mai arrived. “i’m going to tell her you–”

“no!” dylan held his hand and pulled him back to the floor before jun could open his huge mouth and mess up everything. “do not tell anyone about this.”

“but you–”

“we have a partnership, don’t we?” his face flushed upon saying it out loud. if anyone asked, he would blame it on his fever. at least, it worked and jun shut up for a second, stunned that he brought it up. “you said we could ask if we needed something. now i am asking.” 

“i didn’t mean it like—” he groaned, but quickly gave up, slumping on his side. “shit, alright, fine.” 

dylan bit back a smile. 

“just cover for me, i can deal with everything myself.” 

jun was clearly reluctant, not trusting that plan at all, but there was nothing much to argue with. he was bound by this ‘partnership’ and now was too late to take it back. p’mai finished whatever she was doing on her computer and clapped her hands twice to get their attention, going through the routine for today’s practice. dylan let go of jun’s hand and stood up to get closer to the small group that surrounded her. 

the whole morning, dylan chose to not acknowledge the worried looks jun seemed to send him. 

he wanted to slap him on his head to make him stop being so obvious that there was something wrong. he was so useless, dylan wanted to scream. no one noticed anything in dylan’s behavior, all of them already used to his mistakes during dancing practice to attribute it to something else than lack of talent. however, people did notice jun’s distracted self and kept commenting on it. somehow, he was even worse than dylan — the actual sick person. 

he would have spent longer thinking about how stupid jun was when his vision blackened in a particular harsh twist and he felt his consciousness almost slip out of his grasp for a solid second. dylan stumbled back and supported himself on the wall behind him to not fall. fear creeped up his chest with the mere idea of his actual state being exposed and the company sending him home and then everything would fall apart and—

“ah! my ankle!”  

dylan blinked, startled by jun’s scream. he turned his head along with everyone and saw the singer dramatically fall on the floor. p’mai stopped the song and rushed to where he was. no one paid attention to dylan. 

“are you okay, p’jun?” nano hovered over him, brows furrowed in worry as he tried to see what happened to him. 

“yeah, i just landed wrong on my foot, i think i sprained my ankle a little.” dylan furrowed his brow, his own state forgotten. was that serious? how did he manage to sprain his ankle so suddenly? 

was he okay?

“i guess we can have a short break,” the instructor sighed, looking at his ankle for a minute before standing up. “go to the infirmary, it’s down the corridor. rest there for the rest of the morning, i don’t think it’s a serious sprain, so a painkiller and a few hours of rest must help it.” 

“thank you so much, p’mai.” he bowed awkwardly in his position on the floor and slowly sat up. “dylan, can you help me get there? i don’t think i can be alone. i hate anything related to hospitals, you know? i get anxious.” jun mumbled as if it was a secret. 

the rapper didn’t expect to be called, but with everyone looking at him expectantly, there was not much to do except breathe in deep and walk towards him. jun held one hand, puppy eyes on full display as he silently asked for help to stand up. dylan looked away quickly, but helped him get up. 

“it’s almost lunchtime anyway, you can be with him in the infirmary until we start our afternoon routine, dylan.” the instructor was sweet enough to take into account that sob story. he didn’t question, just adjusted his hold on jun and excused himself before leaving the room. 

“ouch, my ankle hurts sooo much, it’s so unbearable, oh dear heavens, why must someone like me be so unlucky–” jun whimpered and complained the whole way out of the practice room until they reached the corridor, away from the instructor’s eyes. “okay, great, we’re free.” jun detached himself from dylan’s arms and stood normally without sign of pain. dylan blinked, speechless. 

“what–” he tried, but the words wouldn’t come out the way he wanted and dylan had to stop walking, take deep breaths and push back the worry that was starting to eat him out. “you lied?” 

“of course.” jun answered easily, shrugging as if it was no big deal — as if  he didn’t worry the shit out of dylan. “you looked like you were about to faint, had to distract them. partners and all.” that shut any attempt to argue that grew in dylan’s chest. he did that… for him? “now let’s go to the infirmary, they must have something to help with your fever.” 

jun held his hand and dragged dylan down the corridor while he looked through all the doors until he found the one they needed. the whole time, dylan tried to not think too much about their hands intertwined together, the comfortable warmth that embraced his hand and spread throughout his body, or how weirdly safe he felt in jun’s grasp. those were feelings he had no need to unpack while sick and feverish. 

without ceremony, jun wrapped himself in dylan’s arms, not putting his real weight on him, keeping his act up, before he opened the door and asked for a nurse. the infirmary was a small, almost forgotten, room where a short woman busied herself with organizing the documents and shelves with medicine. she obviously didn’t expect anyone to appear there, given the way her dark eyes widened and she quickly rushed over them. 

“what happened?” the nurse asked, worried. dylan read anchali in her name tag. 

“i landed wrong on my foot.” jun explained, his voice sounding too realistically pained for dylan’s liking. “p’mai said i could come here to have a painkiller and rest on my lunchtime here.” 

“oh, dear, of course.” anchali guided both of them to the bed near the window and helped jun sit down. then, she headed to the medicine shelf to search for the painkiller he requested. 

“ah, can i get something for a fever too?” dylan turned sharply to him, almost smacking his head. what was he even doing? the nurse looked at him confused and jun quickly added. “i think i have a fever too.”

she looked at both of them suspiciously, dylan was sure she would catch their lies, but anchali just shrugged and reached for another box with pills. the nurse fetched a plastic cup and filled it with water before giving both to jun. 

“uh, thanks, but can you, hm, turn around?” the singer asked with his most sheepish smile. now, both dylan and the nurse looked at him confused. “i can’t swallow pills with someone looking at me. makes me anxious.”

dylan wanted to laugh at how much bullshit he was able to pull in less than fifteen minutes. that must be a talent, there was no way someone was able to lie so shamelessly and so much. and apparently, convincely too because the woman nodded and turned around, saying he could take all the time he needed. jun looked at her back for a few seconds, to make sure she was not looking, before turning to dylan, holding his face and pushing the pill for fever in his mouth. the rapper was so startled he almost choked on it, but jun gave him the cup of water and silently gestured for him to drink fast. without option and limited time, he just did what he was asked to. 

the nurse turned back before jun could get rid of the painkiller. wordlessly, she got the cup back from him, filled it with water and made him swallow it. the problem was that this time she didn’t fully turn back, just went back to her desk and organized a few documents scattered there. dylan nudged him to swallow it fast and he groaned as complied. 

“very good. are you going to stay here during lunchtime?” she said after he gave back the plastic cup. 

“yeah, can we?” again, jun put his dangerous puppy eyes to work and that was enough to convince her.

“of course,” she sighed, and gathered her things. “i will come back around two, so feel free to rest here until you have to go back to your practices. just don’t touch anything.” 

“alright! you can trust us!” jun beamed and waved to her as she left the infirmary. when they were entirely alone, the singer sighed loudly and let his body fall on the thin mattress of the bed. “finally! i can’t believe i had to really take a painkiller for you.” 

“this whole plan was so stupid.” dylan groaned and stood up to leave the infirmary, but jun was faster — or maybe dylan was too slow — and pulled him back until they were both lying on the bed. it was too tiny for two people, specially since jun was, well, big. “what are you doing?”

“let’s rest. we have more than two hours before our practice starts again.” he shifted both of them on the bed until he found a position that was comfortable enough to sleep. “and don’t even try,” jun shut him up when dylan opened his mouth to complain. “partnership, remember?” 

“touché.” dylan mumbled. he hoped his voice sounded unsatisfied and sarcastic, not mushy and sleepier than it should. 

the tiredness that had been pushed back the whole morning came back full force when dylan found himself comfortable, embraced by jun’s arms in the tiniest bed he ever laid on. his warmth didn’t bother him, neither his smell suffocated him, the soft thump thump of his heart didn’t make his headache worse, on the contrary, it lulled him even further. 

faster than dylan could have imagined, he was asleep. 

—

dylan was surrounded by coldness and darkness, but he never felt so hot. 

he blamed jun for that. 

“are you sure this is safe?” he whispered against his lips as he stumbled to the farthest corner of the bathroom. it was hard to see the singer’s face in the poorly lit bathroom, but he heard the giggle that escaped jun’s throat — he felt it — and he knew the answer before jun even opened his mouth. 

“no.” 

he softly closed the door behind him. they had no way to lock it, so jun pushed the trash bin to put it in front of it. if someone tried to get into the bathroom, at least they would have the loud sound of the bin falling to warn them. it was not much, but it had to do. once the set-up was ready, jun rushed to where he was and his hands wrapped around his waist once again until they were glued together. 

dylan didn’t hesitate before sliding a hand around his neck and pulling him down to crash their lips together. after a few times in this… arrangement, dylan felt more confident in his kissing skills, especially when it came to match jun’s rhythm. their kisses were fast, rushed, basked in the secrecy of dark, abandoned corners. jun let his hands roam freely in dylan’s side, often the rapper felt warm fingers pressing down on his waist, or maybe gripping too tight his thighs and hips, but more often than not, jun would break the kiss for a few seconds — and dylan had to bite his lips to avoid letting out a pathetic whimper every time — just to lean down and sat him on the bathroom’s cold marble sink, directing his legs to wrap around his waist before he kissed him again. and he did it again that night.

he found out that jun was not only big, but he was strong as hell too. dylan heard him talk a lot about gym routines with thame and pepper often recently, and how much he liked to exercise. at first, he didn’t pay much attention, but now it was clear that it meant that he was capable of manhandling dylan whenever and wherever he wanted, especially in their nightly escapades. he would rather die than admit it, but heaven, it felt so good. 

“how did you manage to ditch nano?” jun’s breathless voice against his jaw was paired with soft kisses and bites, nothing that would leave a mark, but enough for dylan to turn into jelly. his brain barely processed the question, he found it hard to understand why that was so important right now. 

“i–” he tried, but a particular bite to his earlobe made his voice stutter and he gripped tighter jun’s hair, eyes closing almost immediately. “i said i needed extra practice alone.” his voice was far from clear and unaffected, which in normal conditions would embarrass him — but these were not normal conditions and he was very much unclear and affected. 

“and he didn’t try to stay with you?” 

“no, he— fuck — he didn’t. something to do at home.” 

“that’s good–” dylan shut him up quickly by kissing him again. 

the trainees had stayed a little later after the time they usually went home thanks to a challenging choreography they were trying to memorize. nano had no problem with it and could have gone home earlier, but he decided to help the group, especially dylan who struggled the most with it. as the hours passed by, only jun, nano and dylan remained. 

even though jun had assured the dancer that he could help dylan, he insisted on staying to go over the choreography once again. it was around nine, after almost everyone on the floor left, that jun went out to buy something for them to eat. dylan tried to make up an excuse to make nano finally leave. he didn’t need to work much, though, once they were alone, nano’s phone rang. it was his mother, apparently, dylan couldn’t hear much, but the boy looked terribly sorry to leave dylan alone when he needed so much help. 

even as dylan reassured him that it was going to be fine, he could work on it by himself, nano still seemed unsure the whole way out of the practice room. when jun came back and found him alone, he dragged dylan to the closest bathroom and kissed him until he was out of breath — where they were right now.

if that was his goal all along, dylan wondered, feeling jun’s hands leave a burning trace wherever they touched his bare skin under his shirt, why the hell was he babbling about nano, after all? 

something animalistic was growing in his chest the more jun’s attention seemed to be somewhere else — on someone else. 

it was a new feeling he never felt anything similar before. it clawed at his chest and urged him to pull jun closer, to kiss him more, to grip him so tightly as if it was enough to erase all the thoughts that didn’t involve dylan from his mind. 

if he was not sat on top of a marble sink, inside a dark bathroom of their company with jun’s hand gripping tightly his waist and his tongue in dylan’s mouth, maybe the rapper would have realized sooner that jealousy was starting to creep its way from the depths of his mind, slowly tainting everything. 

soon, though, it would be too late to stop it from growing. 

—

nano came back from their 30-minute break with the biggest smile dylan had seen in a while. 

they were trainees for about five months already, the days passing quicker the more exhausting is the routine. paired with the constant exhaustion came the stress. the group was made up of genuinely good and warm-hearted people — surprisingly, even jun — so much that dylan often felt out of place among them, but there was no amount of kindness that was a match against a bunch of overworked youngsters. 

the mood between them had been a little off since thame and pepper argued last week. it was something simple and petty, easily fixed if they talked calmly and reached an agreement, but instead of the warmth dylan grew used to, they yelled and pointed fingers at each other, blaming everything on each other. dylan watched it all in silence, not sure if there was something someone like him could do. 

given how pepper and thame were important for the balance of the group, having them at odds with each other threw everyone off. it was affecting even his small make out sessions with jun in oner’s bathrooms, since jun was busy trying to compensate the lack of their pseudo-leaders being silly and friendly — which led to zero free time for dylan. he hated that situation, but if he meddled things would end up worse, so he gritted his teeth and pretended nothing was bothering whenever someone asked. 

so, for nano, the most sensible person in their group, to arrive in their practice room with a bright smile was… odd, to say the least. 

“what made you so happy, nano?” jun stood up from where he was, stubbornly laying his head on dylan’s lap, rushing to throw an arm around the dancer’s shoulders. 

dylan pulled out his phone and decided to focus on randomly scrolling the news, not really reading a single word.

“they opened a trampoline park nearby!” he fished from his pockets a folded flyer that quickly got the attention of everyone, thame and pepper even forgetting they were fighting as they checked out the paper in his hands. dylan didn’t  move from his place, but he could see the bold colors and huge words inviting them for a visit. “they have one last session around the time we leave the company. i think we can make it!” 

that made everyone get silent for a second. dylan let his eyes wander towards thame and pepper on nano’s right side. both were trying to act casual, as if they were not the reason nothing worked in their practice for a week. jun, standing at nano’s left side, had the flyer in his hands, studying it as if more information would magically pop up. the idea lingered among them, it was feasible, cheap and not that bad all things considered. 

dylan rarely went to places like this, he preferred quiet and muted colors instead of booming pop songs and neon lights everywhere, so the ‘no’ was already on the tip of his tongue when jun’s voice interrupted any attempt. 

“i think it’s great!” he beamed, and the dancer looked excited to have someone validating his ideas. “if these boring grandpas don’t come, we can just go together, nano, we will have fun by ourselves.” 

this was obviously meant to be a jab at pepper and thame, probably jun’s way to make them reconcile or something — it was still as hard to predict his actions as before, no matter how much dylan thought they got closer — however, what was meant for them ended up hitting dylan way stronger than he expected. 

“yeah, phi!” he wholeheartedly nodded in agreement. “we can go together–”

“i will go too.” the words were out of his mouth before he even had the chance to fully process them in his head. jun’s head snapped in his direction, then all the others followed suit. it seemed like they were not even counting with his presence, and to be fair, he neither. 

“really, p’dylan?” nano jumped in his direction, holding his hands as he did little jumps in excitement. 

the genuine happiness in his face made dylan feel bad for countless reasons, but the biggest was for not being sincere in his reasons to decide to go. but that was a lot to unpack in the practice room as they were organizing a visit to the trampoline park. that’s why dylan just avoided jun’s eyes and nodded to nano. 

after he said he would go, it was only natural for thame and pepper to go too. so, with their reluctant ‘yes’ to the plan, they quickly wrapped up everything in the company. there was not a lot left to do, whatever it was could be done the next day, they had time for that. the whole group almost ran outside the huge glass doors, following nano’s lead as he pointed to the correct street. 

dylan was at the very end of the chaos, eyes focused on how much effort jun seemed to put to make sure the group was okay. he spent the whole way jumping from pepper to thame to nano, holding three conversations almost simultaneously. it was so ridiculous , and dylan hated how his chest ached. as he watched it all happen, dylan caught his thoughts wandering in a dangerous direction — what could he do to get that same attention? was dylan not interesting enough? did he need to fight someone for jun to intervene? 

why it always seem so hard to make jun notice him? 

those thoughts swam his head, fueled by jun’s energetic attempts at making amends for something he wasn’t even involved in. dylan didn’t think he was desperate — no, not really, not yet — but to be left behind so easily was certainly… not nice. but did jun even notice it, though? they were training together for a few months only, they had plans for a future together as a group, as mars, so maybe it was unreal to expect jun was in any hurry to think beyond the casualty of their partnership.  

perhaps, dylan was the one diving too deep into it and making it way less casual than it should. 

partnership. he reminded himself, willing away all the feelings that were everything but this. 

the trampoline park was down the street, quite easy to find with its huge bold colors stealing the attention away from the old, boring buildings around. just like nano said, they were on time for the last session. the worker at the entrance instructed them to pay for their tickets, and put their bags in the lockers along with shoes and sharp accessories. there was no one there except the five of them, and it made sense, it was the middle of the week. after everyone was ready and everything was safely locked away, they were free to enter the trampoline area. 

dylan never went to a place like this, so he didn’t know what to expect. nano, again, was the first to rush ahead, dragging jun by the hand. pepper and thame sheepishly looked at each other, a shadow of a smile blooming in their lips, before they seemed to remember that they were mad at each other and looked away. dylan let out a silent sigh at that — apparently, jun would have to play the pacifier role for longer that night. shit. 

the automatic doors opened for him and, inside, he saw a multitude of colors. 

black elastic floors were surrounded by colorful soft borders, surrounding the trampolines there were ball pits, pit foam, climbing walls and toys to play fight with. he could hear a trendy pop song from two speakers installed on the ceiling and soft colored lights from spotlights. everything was big, full of colors and, against dylan’s own preconceived ideas, fun.

nano let out an excited scream and jumped first. his body bounced on the elastic floor and he laughed heartily. the rest of the group was quickly contaminated by him, bouncing as well. dylan went slower than everyone else, he was never an adventurous kid, and his parents weren’t very active in making him the happiest child in the world. 

he tried jumping on it a few times, slow at first. it was weird, hard to control and when he looked up and saw jun do a somersault, landing on his back, then bounce back and end up standing, he was sure he would ever be able to do something like that. dylan frowned and put more strength in his jumps, but as he landed, he stumbled, falling face-first into the soft pink border. embarrassed, dylan stayed there for a few seconds, his cheeks felt hot so he probably was blushing too, so the best idea was waiting before standing up. 

well, at least, that was the plan before he felt the elastic floor give in under the weight of another person by his side.

“tired already?” jun’s voice startled him, and against his best judgments, dylan sat up. the singer was smirking, a little out of breath thanks to his stunts earlier, his hair an absolute mess and the hoodie he came in with had been thrown somewhere, the tank top he used under it exposed way too much of his arms. dylan rolled his eyes at the comment in an attempt to discreetly look away. 

“no, i just fell.” he mumbled as he sat back, trying to put some distance between them. “but why are you here? did you finish your peace-maker work?” dylan didn’t mean to sound bitter, but the laugh jun let out was proof he failed. 

“yeah, look.” jun pointed to a corner where nano, thame and pepper were climbing the wall, laughing when the other slipped or almost fell in the foam. the weird, tense atmosphere between them seemed gone. dylan was surprised that it was fixed so easily and wondered what the hell did jun do. “i pushed them in the ball pit together.” almost as if he was reading his mind, jun explained. “it was very effective.”

“i can see that.” dylan agreed, relieved that things seemed to be back to normal — for numerous reasons. “why are you here? shouldn’t you be there?” he pointed to the other three again, keeping his voice as nonchalant as he could. 

“well, i saw you falling on your face like a baby fawn and had to come here to help.”

dylan’s eyes widened at that, blush attempting to creep up back in his cheeks. he didn’t think anyone saw that, but the fact jun saw made it even worse. dylan had a sarcastic answer to give, it would probably shut him up for good, however the ever unpredictable jun held his hands in his and made him stand up, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he started to drag the rapper to the middle of the elastic and jump with him. 

dylan let out an awful scream when he saw himself way too far from the ground. jun only laughed, putting more strength in his jumps so they could go higher and higher. none of his attempts to stop jun worked, on the contrary, it seemed to make him more eager to do it. 

jun didn’t seem to want to stop, but he landed wrong and it sent them both falling back on the trampoline. dylan wanted to get mad at the singer for it, but when he looked at him, he had a huge smile on his face, breathless and so, so content — glowing — dylan didn’t have the heart to do anything that would dim his happiness. 

“you’re so annoying.” was all he said, without any bite. jun chuckled as he stood up and dragged dylan with him. 

and, for the first time, he didn’t fight against the way his heart fluttered in his chest. 

—

jun was distracted. 

that was dylan’s first realization when they stumbled on the rooftop. hands traveling dangerously under his clothes, heated kisses, ragged breaths and muffled gasps barely audible under the strong wind blowing their hair. jun was so close to him, he could feel the warmth, the softness of his skin, the cologne and the mint taste on his lips — still, dylan could notice immediately he was not fully there. 

there was a slight furrow between his brows that never went away as they made their way to the empty rooftop, his grip wasn’t as tight and intentional as dylan was used to, and to make things even more obvious, whenever they spent any moment apart it was like jun turned off for the world and the only way to bring him back was physically, be it kisses, holding or dragging him to a more secluded corner of the rooftop. 

he had no idea what could have happened, that day they barely had any schedule together. dylan got busy with production and composition along with rap practices, when they met it was for a one-hour rehearsal of a new choreography they had to perform soon in an evaluation for the ceo. after it was done, they managed to slip away from the group and that was the jun he got — distracted, worried, lacking the familiar spark in his eyes. 

dylan hated it. 

“what happened?” the question was out of his mouth before he had time to second-guess. jun was leaning down for another kiss and seemed to startle when dylan addressed it unexpectedly. 

“what do you mean?” 

he leaned back on the wall that surrounded the door they just came in, his attempt at nonchalance didn’t work on dylan this time. he was getting better at seeing past jun’s masks these days. the months they had were helping him discover new sides of him that were rarely seen outside the little bubble they have built up. still, dylan was not any better at confrontation either so he shrugged and stepped closer until his lips were on his jaw, neck and then up to his cheeks, he kissed wherever he could reach before biting jun’s earlobe. 

“you look distracted.” dylan answered, hoping to not sound too nosy or interested in him. casual. partners. no worries. that’s what they were, and dylan threaded on that thin, blurry cord without a single ounce of stability. the observation seemed to startle jun again, opening a tiny gap for him to press. “tell me.”

he kept the kisses going, hoping it would make things easier. jun closed his eyes as dylan kissed his neck, small bites here and there that made him hold his waist and hair tighter and gasp. the singer seemed to be too distracted by his lips on him to remember his request. dylan was about to ask again when a sigh escaped jun — too exhausted to be a horny one. 

“the vocal coach.” dylan furrowed his brows, confused for a second, before putting everything in their places in his head. “he’s playing favorites.”

that made dylan lean back, just enough to see his face, tired but still beautiful under the artificial lights that surrounded the rooftop. now, whatever he kept concealed throughout the day was escaping through the cracks of his façade, and dylan tried to keep his heart in check, he really did, but every single glimpse inside the universe jun kept locked away was addicting and he was eager to tear each of his walls apart just so he could see him.  

maybe that was too selfish, though, especially since dylan’s walls were not even close to breaking down. 

“favorites?” 

“yeah,” jun sighed again, eyes staring at the clear night sky over them, his grip on dylan’s body not even close to relaxing. the rapper didn’t complain, just let himself be held for as long as he could. “he has an obvious preference for thame. today he spent the whole practice yelling at me and pepper to ‘get a grip’ and ‘sing like thame’, it was awful. thame even apologized after.”

that was not surprising, dylan saw how people in the company looked at thame with a different interest. it was impossible to not feel slightly threatened by him. not that anyone was bad, but they were aware that if it came to the point of where oner had to choose between the trainees… well, the choice was already made. he had nothing against thame, it was deserved even, however this acknowledgement didn’t change the fact that their efforts were not as valuable to the company as his. 

he also hated how it made jun feel so affected. 

“i don’t know,” jun continued before dylan could say anything else. “maybe i don’t really have what it takes to be an idol.” 

“what?” this time, dylan stepped back and furrowed his brow. that was the most absurd thing jun had said — and the list was quite long — and it baffled him that this vocal coach had shaken his confidence so much in a just a couple of hours. he didn’t know if that was a normal occurrence, but it was the first time he heard any of the singers of the group talk about it. “where is this coming from? are you really taking what he said seriously?” 

“well, he’s an expert, isn’t he?” 

“he’s a balding old man,” dylan deadpanned. he ran a hand in his hair, exasperated. “his ears must not even work anymore.”

that made jun laugh, a warm sound that made dylan’s heart do somersaults and flutter in his chest. they were still close, just enough to allow the rapper to see his pretty smile up close. 

“you really think i’d be a good singer?” jun asked with a smug smile, trying to sound overconfident to downplay how much the answer to it must mean to him. 

dylan never met anyone as wonderfully irritating as jun. 

“unfortunately, yes.” he said, and hoped jun caught on the honesty in his words. “that’s the only thing i can’t complain about you.” 

“you’re not lying right?” 

“why would i lie about that?” dylan arched an eyebrow. at that, jun’s smile grew larger, more genuine and it shone so brightly that it rivaled the lights illuminating the rooftop. 

“i will tell everyone that the great dylan zhou is complimenting me.” 

“what great are you–” he couldn’t ask what the hell he was talking about before jun pulled him close and kissed him again. this time, he was not distracted anymore and dylan basked in the full attention he had. 

as the cold breeze blew on the rooftop, jun’s warmth was too captivating to not relish on it, the outside world felt so, so far away.

it was only them there, and dylan wished they could stay like that a little longer. 

—

dylan woke up when something hit his head. 

he blinked, trying to not groan too loud as the room he was in slowly came into focus. the white ceiling and mirrored walls were as familiar as his own apartment by now. practice room 01. he was practicing late into the night after countless rounds of missteps and too slow or too fast rhythm in a choreography they have been practicing for weeks now. 

nothing worked, everyone was stressed, the new instructor they were assigned to was fucking terrible, and the debut seemed a far away dream now. dylan stayed back to practice more as a punishment from the bald instructor after a fight that escalated out of control. he was supposed to be rehearsing by himself, but of course it was not how things went. 

dylan turned his head to the left and there he was. 

jun slept deeply on the hard cold floor of the room, his hair all messy from jumping and dancing around earlier, lips slightly parted as he breathed in and out, steady, almost comforting. dylan didn’t remember when exactly he fell asleep, his last memory was laying on the floor to catch his breath after the singer finally approved his movements in a particular moment of the dance break he was struggling with. still out of breath, dylan had closed his eyes as he listened to jun’s rambles about one of his favorite shows, then about something that happened in his acting classes, the rapper didn’t remember what came after it.

now, jun was sleeping all cutely by his side, spread like a starfish, arms sometimes moving by themselves, that was probably how dylan was woken up. 

silently, he slid closer.

it was not often he had the opportunity to just admire jun like this — no flirty or annoying comments, no divided attention, no questionable behavior, nothing. just him breathing slowly, closed eyes, cheeks squished against one of his arms. carefully, dylan pushed a few hair strands away from his eyes and, against his best judgment, he let his hand linger. for someone used to the cold all the time, it never failed to amaze him how warm jun was.

his fingers traced the soft skin until they stopped at the small mole on his cheek. dylan had noticed before, but never got the chance to appreciate them much, given every approximation they had needed to be in dark bathrooms, rushed in forgotten corners or squished through tight schedules. it was a shame that was the first time he had the opportunity to really see them even after they were training for more than seven months now. 

jun had so many moles it was hard to count, but dylan was never one to back down from a challenge and tried anyway. 

the first one was on his cheek. dylan pressed the skin carefully, hoping it wouldn’t wake him up. it didn’t, jun just made a face and grumbled something impossible to understand. the rapper smiled and let his finger wander to the second mole, next to his eye. he noticed that one first. then there was the one under his eye too, fainter but there nonetheless; and finally one on his temple. his fingers traced them all, connecting them like a constellation. 

his eyes traveled to a hidden place under his jaw. there was a mole there too. dylan hoped he would never find out that the reason his lips seemed to be permanently glued there whenever they kissed was because of this tiny little dot. then, there was another one in his neck — dylan remembers thinking about that for longer than a person should after finding it out. 

he knew that there were more all over his body, dylan saw the ones on his arms, another on the back of his neck and on his back — those he saw when he had to take off his shirt to change into a new one after thame spilled half of his iced coffee on him accidentally. his recent discovery was moles on jun’s thigh and leg. he overheard him talking about it with pepper and nano during one of their breaks and was filled with curiosity. 

there was so much more of jun dylan wanted to unravel. he wanted to take his time with him, peel every single layer, take off brick by brick of his walls until there’s only the vulnerable, honest — a version of him no one else could see but dylan. 

he wanted jun all to himself. 

the realization that he liked jun was not new, still it hit with more force than it should’ve.

it was hard to pinpoint when it happened, or how, or why. the feelings just kept growing and growing, and no amount of rationalization could make them disappear. every time jun laughed he wanted to laugh too, he listened to all his rambles about silly topics with rapt attention, whenever their schedules required them to spend the day apart it hurt. that stupid boy brightened his days, made him excited to wake up, and not even the imminent risk of jun messing up his whole carefully planned routine was enough to make him give up. 

dylan liked jun. 

that was the worst thing that could have happened — but at the same time, the best one.

dylan sighed and let his hands rest on the side of jun’s face. what would happen if he said it to him? the words were stuck in his throat, with no way to get out, maybe they would die with him, maybe they would eventually reach jun’s ears, but he still let himself wonder. 

if he finally said “i like you, jun. i really do.” what would he answer? 

maybe his face would brighten up, his eyes wide before an incredulous laugh escaped him. maybe he would also pull him close and kiss him, but the smile on his lips would not let him focus, then jun would babble about all the things they could do as a couple, and then get shy thinking about how they would explain to the other trainees about their new status. the idea of a blushing jun was quite entertaining. maybe he would be happy to hear that. 

or not. 

maybe his face would fall, and he would look away in a mix of embarrassment and horror that would break dylan’s heart before he could even voice a ‘no’. maybe jun would remember that he asked to keep things casual, a partnership, and he had no interest in being anything else than that. maybe they would never talk again, maybe their escapades to the roof or bathrooms would come to an end, maybe dylan would never get to know jun on a deeper, intimate, level because that was not something available for him. 

the possibilities were endless, but none seemed to put his heart at ease nor scare him enough to give up. 

dylan looked up at the ceiling and breathed out. he took out his hands out of jun’s face and decided to leave the room and maybe get something to drink and recompose himself, a coffee or tea must be enough, but the moment he tried to roll to the opposite side an arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him back. 

in a second, jun was everywhere. 

he grumbled something beyond comprehension as his arms wrapped better around dylan as if he was a teddy bear, their height difference highlighted once again as he snuggled closer. he could have found a way to slide out of his grasp and move forward with his plan. that was the best and most rational thing to do. 

dylan knew that — still, he found himself snuggling back, wrapping his own arm around jun’s waist and buried his face between his neck and shoulder. a relieved sigh escaped his lips at that, even though his heart was beating in a dangerous rhythm. 

the comfort he found in jun’s arms was something he never felt anywhere else — and he knew that the probability of him finding something like that again was close to zero. 

thinking like that, it was easy to let his body fully relax in the embrace, and the sleep that came after was the best he had in years. 

—

the practice room was engulfed in a heavy silence. 

dylan’s pen was held between his fingers for a while now, barely touching the paper, even though that was what it was supposed to be doing. he had to prepare a new song to present for the company in a week, the producers who he worked with him for the past months said it was a good opportunity for him, especially because khun pemika was in the final stages of selecting who she wanted to debut. the trainee times were almost over, he had to do everything to impress her. 

and trust him, if he could write a single verse right now he would, but the words had flown out of his mind, leaving him empty, soundless.

creativity came and went, as an artist he knew that, but what a fucking awful time for it to disappear! 

he closed his eyes and threw his head back, neck hardly well-supported by the office chair he was sitting on. thanks to a poorly timed pest control, they were in the practice room 02, two floors up of their usual, with three other back dancers that needed to practice as well for an upcoming show. from what he heard thame and nano gossip earlier, that room was for real idols who had already debuted, that’s why it was so fancy and out of reach. it had better air conditioning, the floors didn’t creak when they danced, the soundproof was really soundproof and the mirrors were cleaned. it even had a small table and a couple chairs in a corner if someone needed to organize or write something. since no one went for it, dylan seized the small corner for himself. 

dylan was so frustrated, he needed ideas, something good and fresh that would make oner see his talents properly. the time was getting shorter, he could already hear his mom’s scoldings or his father’s smug voice saying how they ‘told him so’. he just needed a damn song, an inspiration, a melody, a muse, anything—

“yo!” 

the rapper opened his eyes and saw jun. 

what a timing. 

“what are you doing here?” dylan asked without moving from his place. 

he watched the upside down version of jun shrug and turn around to pull one of the chairs thrown to the opposite corner closer before sitting down. behind him, there was the unfamiliar silence from the other trainees, as he looked over his shoulders, dylan noticed they were all asleep. he didn’t realize it was that late already. 

“you looked miserable,” he said with a grin. “so, obviously, i had to know what happened.” 

dylan sighed and sat better on the chair. he put the pen down under jun’s curious eyes. his notebook was open in a blank page, not even a sketch was prepared, which was highly uncommon for him. he always had ideas for songs, if not the lyrics, at least the melody he was able to come up with something, but not this time. for some reason, it made him embarrassed now that he was not alone anymore with his own incapacity to come up with something. to lessen the feeling, he leaned down to scribble a few random words. it was silly, but next to him jun gasped in wonder. 

“are you writing a song?” 

“yes.” he lied, partially at least, that was his intention but not what he was actually doing. jun leaned closer to see better what was being written. that, again, made dylan even more embarrassed he was not able to make anything worth jun’s attention. 

“that’s cool,” jun whispered, looking back for a second to make sure no one else woke up with their talk before turning to dylan again. “i never wrote a song before.” his eyes lingered on his fingers curling around the pen. and maybe it was the late hours, but dylan thought jun was being shy. which was weird, why would he be shy?

“that’s fine,” dylan said after a while, dropping the pen on the small notebook and turning to look at him better. the illumination of the room was purposefully dimmed to allow the others a better nap on the floor, so he had to strain his eyes a little to see the details of jun’s face. “i have nothing else to do today, want to try it?” the proposal was whispered nonchalantly, as if his heart wasn’t beating in his ears the whole time.

“can i?” jun’s eyes widened, and he looked up, expectations all over his face. dylan bit his lip and nodded. 

“sure.” he fished from his pocket a spare red pen he always carried around, and then carefully ripped a blank page from his notebook. “what do you want to write about?”

he watched jun’s brows furrow in deep thought. dylan never wrote a song with anyone before, it was a lonely process where he agonized and bled by himself, that’s how he thought good music came to life — but trust jun to shake his world and turn it upside down enough to change the basis of everything he ever believed. 

“love.” jun finally answered, and it made dylan freeze in his place. he bit his lips with more force, almost breaking skin. fear crossed his mind with the possibility of him finding out what he felt. 

“love?” dylan repeated, forcing an incredulous laugh, but his hands gripped the pen anyway and positioned it on the page. his acting seemed to be enough to fool jun, because he pouted a bit with his laugh. afraid he would get the wrong idea, he continued. “what kind of love?”

jun hummed as he thought about it, fingers tapping his thigh distractedly. dylan watched, nervous, his mind coming up with thousands of different answers. if he wanted to talk about love, does that mean he was in love with someone? could that someone be dylan? or was it someone else? he never heard him talk about anyone else and well, they wouldn’t have that kind of partnership if he was interested in someone else, right? 

dylan gripped tighter his pen in an attempt to shut his thoughts off for a minute. 

“one that is deep,” he said, enthusiastically, a soft smile playing on his lips. “a love that notices me and will never forget me. a love that stays.”

a love that sees him? a love that never forgets him? a love that stays?

dylan could do that. 

he– he was already doing that. does that count?

trying to not look too affected by his words, dylan turned to the ripped page from his notebook and scribbled a title. 

unforgettable by dylan zhou

then, he turned the page to jun, who gasped again with excitement. he started to speak something, but someone shuffled behind them, threatening to wake up. jun looked down at the pen in his hand and let out a small “ah!” before getting the paper back from him and scribbling something. 

unforgettable by dylan zhou (and junn tangsakultham too!!! :D)

dylan swallowed down a chuckle at the addition. he was so silly. the rapper got the paper back and tried to work a few words down. then sent it back to jun, who also added a few things he thought that would work out. the silent exchange was quick, and the first page of his notebook was filled by a messy sketch of a song. unable to use that paper any longer, dylan ripped another page, and they continued with the same title and reused a few good ideas from the previous sketch.

as fast as the other one, that too was filled, but this time jun had used more than half of the page with silly comments that dylan couldn’t help but answer. dylan ripped the third page, but the same thing happened. he was about to go for the fourth one when jun stopped him and pulled from his bag, that was thrown nearby, a small notepad. he opened it and looked for a blank page, ripping it and sliding across the table for him. 

the page was blue with bubble patterns surrounding the lines. it was adorable. fit him. 

dylan didn’t know why he decided to use his notepad, he just knew he wouldn’t be able to throw this out not even if he wanted. with his blue pen, he wrote on top again the title of the song. 

unforgettable by dylan zhou

jun looked at it and frowned again, pushing his hand away to add again:

unforgettable by dylan zhou (and junn tangsakultham too!!! :D)

he seemed so proud of it, dylan didn’t try to erase it again. dylan checked the pages they had used before in search of something usable. there were a few things he wanted to say, but he was afraid jun could catch up on it and everything would be ruined. still, he found himself writing a few words and sliding the page back to jun, heart almost beating out of his chest.

the days might be tough and painful, 

but if they are the storms i have to sail through

to have the nights by your side

then, my love, it is worth it 

↳ is ‘my love’ okay? maybe ‘babe’ would be, i don’t know, cooler? :/

dylan read the words and couldn’t help but frown. what the absolute hell was that suggestion? he quickly wrote down an answer.

↳ ‘babe’ will sound terrible here — keep ‘my love’

jun read it, pouted and rolled his eyes. dylan kept writing, quickly getting too immersed in his own feelings for a moment. he only stopped when jun’s breath against his neck startled him. dylan didn’t realize he was so close. feeling too exposed by what he wrote — retellings of moments they lived together —, dylan crossed it. 

i found light in the darkness of silent rooms 

priceless happiness was bought by a couple of coins

you turned my world upside down

how–

the singer widened his eyes and opened his mouth, ready to say something, when he realized that they couldn’t. jun didn’t let him finish a new line before pushing his hand away to scribble a comment. 

↳ hey, why did you cross pre-chorus >:(

↳ i dont like it anymore

↳ well, it looked cute!!! a love song needs cuteness too

↳ write it by yourself then

jun pouted again, unsatisfied with his answer. for a second, dylan really thought he would just follow what he said and write the song by himself, and the mere idea made him regret what he wrote. but a few seconds later, jun deflated and wrote something back. 

↳… i cant ╥﹏╥

dylan watched him draw a couple of sad faces on the borders of the paper mindlessly. it was adorable, but the urge to annoy him won in the end.  

↳ stop drawing emoticons on the paper 

he leaned to read what he wrote and scoffed at the absurd request, but the shadow of a smile was blooming on his lips when he thought dylan was not looking. 

↳ booooooooring >:(

they continued their composing work. dylan gave him the other three pages they had used before and asked jun to find something good for the chorus, just to keep jun entertained and part of the process. he didn’t want to say how bad he was at writing songs or kill his enthusiasm. with jun distracted, he could focus on his part, highlighted by the singer on the paper. the words flew easily when he pictured jun as the center of his inspiration. 

《  rap part where dylan does… his rap-things (^^)ｂ 》

i pray for the sun to set 

i worship the moon

because only when the darkness makes home in bangkok

i can make your arms my home 

he stopped, realizing that he probably poured too much of his heart into those verses. it was impossible to not write that as he remembered the night they slept together in the practice room, snuggled against each other. on some nights he hugged himself and tried to imagine jun’s arms around him again. he missed that. he wanted it again. he wanted it forever. 

jun eyed what he wrote and seemed impressed, pulling the paper to himself to underline the last sentence before he wrote his comment. 

i can make your arms my home 

↳ WOW THIS SENTENCE IS GOOD!!!!!

jun pointed to the paper, urging him to read and giving him the thumbs up to show how much he liked it. dylan tried to not let it get to his head — or worse, to his heart. 

↳ stop scribbling in the middle of the page

↳ can’t i compliment you anymore??? 

↳ compliment me to my face, we’re next to each other

it may have sounded harsh, but a greedy part of him wanted to hear those words in jun’s voice. he desperately wanted to hear the excitement, the change in tones, the raw honesty that would make his heart beat out of rhythm until dylan got scared he was going to die. even if it was just said in a whisper, he needed it so much. 

↳ but there are other trainees sleeping around here!!（´-`）

of course, he wouldn’t have what he wanted. the world was so cruel to him. it was expected, but thanks to jun’s puppy eyes — ironically, he looked exactly like the emoji he had drawn — he couldn’t even get mad at him. his only sign of displeasure was a roll of eyes. jun’s lips parted, surprised, and he quickly leaned down to scribble something more. 

↳ i’m recording here, on this sacred paper, that you rolled your eyes at me

dylan arched an eyebrow, confused after he read it. what was that even supposed to mean? jun was as unpredictable as always. 

↳ this paper is not sacred and i didn’t roll my eyes at you

he hoped it cleared the air a little, but jun scoffed again and wrote again. 

↳ of course it’s sacred, once this songs becomes famous i will show everyone i worked with the GREAT dylan zhou

↳ and yes you rolled them at me (¬､¬)

the great dylan zhou? was that a new joke? dylan let out an airy laugh and shook his head. jun had a little smile on his lips too, despite the effort to keep the annoyed façade and the countless angry face emojis. 

↳ stop drawing all over the paper jun

jun rolled his eyes at that. dylan had the urge to follow his example and write something like “i’m recording on this sacred paper that jun rolled his eyes at me” but that sounded too childish. 

↳ let it be known on this sacred paper that dylan zhou is BORING >:(

that was the last little text they exchanged before they focused again on the lyrics. dylan got busy refining and reorganizing his rap part, trusting that jun would keep his part of the deal and look for something useful for the chorus. the opportunity to tell what he felt through a song was not something he ever thought, and he felt stupid for it. 

there was no better way to convey what he felt than with a song! maybe jun would get it and it wouldn’t be so bad. dylan was not good with speeches and words, but he was good with lyrics, and maybe it was time to use that in his favor. he wrote it carefully to avoid being caught so soon, using his notebook to sketch a few sentences to make sure they would sound exactly like he wanted them to sound. 

he had no idea how long it took, but when he was finally satisfied and looked at jun dylan found out he was asleep. 

oh, the rapper was so engrossed in his own head and lyrics that he didn’t even notice when it happened. jun was asleep over one of his arms on the table. dylan watched him with a dumb smile on his face, so adoringly that if someone saw that, he would be exposed immediately.

dylan organized the table a little, to avoid jun hitting something in his sleep and startling himself because of the sound. among the mess of papers and pens, dylan saw some red arrows pointing to sentences in one of the pages he had asked him to check. 

➾ see me, love me, don’t forget me. ⟸

so that got his attention, huh… dylan wrote the words in his own notepad to avoid forgetting them. after everything was as clean as possible, he supported his head in his hands and allowed himself to watch jun sleep, peaceful breaths and fluffy hair all over his face. so beautiful. 

he liked him so much that the feelings were starting to suffocate him. dylan blinked a few tears away and tried to alleviate his feelings through words just like he always did. 

i wish you could see what i feel for you

why dont you see me?

why cant we be more than what we are now?

am i not enough? are you scared? 

is the future scary for you? i can help make it less scary

please please please 

you are sleeping by my side and i still dont have the courage to say anything

but tomorrow…

i may be a coward tonight but tomorrow i will be braver

i will tell you everything i promise 

tomorrow… no matter how scary it is

it was not supposed to be something curated, he didn’t even know if he wanted jun to read this mess, but pouring his heart out in words on a paper always helped. noticing he, again, was too honest on paper, jun slipped it inside his notebook and laid his head on his arm just like jun, letting his eyes bask in his presence as if it was the last time. he took in the little moles doting his face, his parted lips, his long lashes, his closed puppy eyes — everything. 

the idea of confessing tomorrow made his stomach turn and his heart beat all weird in his chest, but nothing felt more right than that. the outcome was uncertain, but if he just had one opportunity, dylan promised himself he would take it, no matter how small it was. 

there was no way to keep everything inside his chest any longer. 

dylan closed his eyes slowly and exhaled. 

tomorrow everything will change. 

—

dylan woke up with an unfamiliar ruckus in the practice room 02.

he didn’t notice when he fell asleep on the table by jun’s side, but when he opened his eyes, the singer wasn’t there anymore. dylan rubbed his eyes to wake up better and turned to where the sound was coming from. 

it came from the door, he found out after a few seconds. thame, pepper and nano were gathered around someone. jun was still nowhere to be seen, so he stood up and made his way to where everyone was grouped together. it didn’t take long for him to see khun pemika there with mick behind her. 

“what’s happening?” he asked when he finally reached them. nano looked up at him with teary eyes. surprised, dylan turned to see pepper and thame with the same downcast expressions. a heavy weight settled in his gut at that. 

“p’dylan–” nano tried to say, but he choked on a sob and failed to continue. none of the others seemed to want to tell him either. there were so many questions swirling in his mind but two were more urgent than anything: what the fuck happened and where is jun?  

“glad that you’re awake, dylan.” pemika stepped forward, expressionless as ever among the chaos she probably caused. the rapper stepped back. “i just came here to inform you the news.”

“what– what news?” he looked around, a terrible feeling settling in his chest as he saw nano sob and fall on his knees and thame press hands against his eyes, pepper shook his head with disbelief. 

“we are not proceeding with the mars project anymore. the trainees are going to be sent home today.”

and just like that, the ground seemed to crack and open under his feet. dylan stumbled back, too shocked to properly answer her. 

what… what does that mean? they wouldn’t debut as a group? there was no chance for them? 

all that work had been… for nothing? 

his parents were right… he shouldn’t have followed that path, music was never a stable or good option, he was not good enough, he didn’t have what it takes, he didn’t—

as his mind spiraled out of control, another thought suddenly struck him. 

jun. 

“wait– what about jun? he isn’t here, so is he…?” the idea of at least jun debuting, going forward with his dream, would be enough for him. he deserved it, so if he wasn’t there with them, then it means he managed to stay?

hope barely bloomed in his chest before pemika crushed it. 

“i saw him in the cafeteria on my way here and told him already. i believe he went home already.” 

dylan heard someone curse quietly before the words fully sank in. 

she said that to jun in the middle of the fucking cafeteria? all alone? she didn’t even wait for him to get together with the rest of the trainees to do that? 

fuck that woman. 

fuck oner.

dylan rushed back to the table where he was sleeping just a few minutes ago, gathered his things, and ran out of the practice room. he ignored the calls for his name from thame, nano and pepper, he ignored the way mick warned him to not run in the corridors, ignored everything to get as fast as possible to the nearest elevator. there were so many things going on in his head, but his first priority was to search for jun. if he could just reach him, then everything else could be worked out, one way or another. and he still didn’t have the opportunity to confess. 

he promised himself he would do that today. 

he got in the elevator and pressed the first floor. it didn’t take long to reach there, and he ran out towards the cafeteria. jun was nowhere to be seen, and his heart echoed loudly in his ears. dylan rushed to one of the cafeteria waitresses to ask if she had seen him. 

“yeah, he bought coffee with us, talked with khun pemika and rushed outside.” 

that was far from being useful, and dylan wanted to rip his hair off. he fished his phone from his bag and tried to call him, but to no avail. then, he called pepper and asked if he knew jun’s address, but no trainee knew where he lived. dylan tried to go outside in his last hopes of still reaching jun, but in that sea of people he was nowhere to be found. 

he lost him. 

he lost his debut opportunity. 

dylan lost everything. 

—

the darkness of his room wasn't as comforting as it used to be. 

dylan sat down on his table and pulled out his notebook from his bag. a few pages fell from inside it. he picked them up, recognizing easily the blue sheet with bubble patterns. 

his last memory with jun. 

he put it on his table and reached for his blue pen again. 

↳ it’s tomorrow and you’re not here

↳ we didn’t finish the song but if i have the chance i want to show you the full results of our work. i hope i can show it to you someday, junnie.

then, he opened the folded white pages from his notebook and looked at the words he had circled in red pen last night, slowly transcribing to the blue sheet what was there. 

the inspiration that came at that moment left a bitter taste in his mouth with each word he wrote through tears. 

i don’t want to be part of your past. 

see me, love me, don’t forget me.

i want to see you again.

—

the drink burned his throat as he swallowed it, and dylan gladly welcomed the sensation. 

it has been two days since his trainee days ended. he still couldn’t contact jun, and neither could any of the other trainees. thame sent him a message earlier that jun was unreachable since that day. dylan took a big sip from his blue drink again, worry gnawing at his chest. he probably was frustrated, angry too, being an idol was his dream and to have that ripped off so cruelly… it was understandable. dylan just wanted to be able to help. he wanted to be by his side in moments like these — he wanted to be by his side all the time, to be fair, but especially on difficult days he wished for jun to know he wasn’t alone. 

dylan got his phone from his pocket and checked his notifications again. 

nothing. 

“how is the drink?” the green haired bartender approached him with a small smile, probably just a polite one, curling one side of his lips. 

“it’s good. thanks.” 

they didn’t talk more than that. he didn’t come there to have small talks, dylan just wanted to be somewhere else and maybe get wasted, to detach himself from his own feelings for a while. 

there was no better place to do this than dexstrose. 

dylan heard a lot about this underground pub online, but he only came here once last year, saw a few performances and never came back, mostly due to his packed routine as trainee — he made a face when he remembered that. so much wasted time in that damned company. he swore to never step back there. dylan still didn’t know what to do with himself, though, his dream to work with music seemed too far to be accomplished now, and if he couldn’t even debut as an idol, what chances did he have to make it into the industry? 

he had zero connections, his self-confidence also took a blow, and the few personal songs he released under a pseudonym didn’t make the biggest numbers either. dylan still didn’t tell his parents about oner kicking him out, that would just inflate their ego and increase their pressure to make him go back, which he would rather die than comply. 

so, he had nothing. 

dylan finished his drink and raised his hand to ask for another one, feeling too sober to deal with everything for now. maybe tomorrow things would look better, or not. maybe things would still be as shitty as they are now, but whatever the outcome he pushed it away from his mind, at least that night he wanted to not think about anything else. 

the green-haired bartender promptly gave him another cup, and dylan quickly finished it. the booming sound from the performances on the stage made him stand up. it's been a while since he enjoyed a night like this. perhaps that’s what he needed. there were a lot of people jumping with the rapper, he had a good voice and was handsome too, the electronic melody hyped everyone. it was so damn loud there dylan couldn’t even hear his own thoughts. 

exactly what he needed. 

dylan walked into the middle of the crowd, letting his sense being overwhelmed by the loud music, the screaming people around him, the moving bodies pushing him from one side to the other. it was too much and too little at the same time. 

he barely noticed his phone buzzing in his back pocket, only after the song stopped, and the place quieted down. dylan unlocked it and saw that thame had tried to call him and sent a message, it started talking something about oner and dylan rolled his eyes at that. he had no desire to know anything about that shitty company. feeling mad, dylan locked it again and was about to put it back in his pocket when someone bumped hard into him. 

dylan didn’t even see where the man came from, but he was strong enough to send him falling into the floor with a loud thud. the crowd around him screamed, startled, and stepped back. his phone was also a victim, the screen cracked with the ugly fall it took. anger boiled in him before any other feeling was able to stop it. 

“what the fuck is your problem?” he jumped to his feet, lower back and ankle burning with pain from the fall. the drunkard just shrugged, unbothered by what he did. “watch where you are going, you bastard!” dylan pushed him, barely doing any real damage, considering their huge difference. still, it seemed to anger the man enough.

“what is this brat babbling about?” his voice was loud in the now, silent crowd. even the artist on the stage seemed unsure of what to do now. the security guards slowly walked in their direction. 

“brat? you’re the only one who thinks you own the place to walk around bumping into others!” dylan pushed him again, this time with enough force to make him stumble back. “you fucking dipshit!” 

after that, everything became a mess. 

he felt the blooming pain in the side of his face thanks to a punch, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, then he was on the floor. instead of staying put, he lashed back at the man. a lot of people tried to separate then, but dylan was pulling his hair, refusing to let go, and the drunkard tried to strangle him with a strong hand wrapping around his neck. three security guards had to forcefully pull them apart and push each of them to opposite sides of the area. 

dylan was so mad that he barely registered the pain. he heard the bastard yell curses at him and he screamed more back, refusing to back down. most of the crowd left for the bar area, and others were hyping the fight with cameras pointed at them. it was pure chaos. 

“what the fuck is happening here?” a new voice echoed through the speakers and startled everyone. dylan turned to the stage and saw a blue-haired man with the microphone in hand. “trun kick him out of here,” he pointed to the drunkard being held by the security guard, who nodded in understanding and pushed him out of the pub. then, his eyes fell back to dylan also held by a guard. “rey, bring this one to my office.” dylan felt the man nod behind him and start to push him out of the stage area and into a poorly lit corridor. he had no idea what that man wanted with him, he just wanted a relaxing night, was that too much to ask? 

he saw a door with the words office painted in white paint on the black wooden door. dylan was pushed inside with a quiet warning of ‘don’t do anything else, boy’ before the door closed again. the office was not something out of the world, just a simple room with a big table near the window, vinyls decorating the walls, a black couch on the corner, which dylan decided to sit down in an attempt to reduce how dizzy he felt. 

dylan sighed and buried his head in his hands, now that adrenaline was not pumping into his veins, pain started to make itself known. 

“that’s not how i imagined our first meeting would go.” the same voice from before echoed in the office a few minutes after. dylan raised his eyes to look at the blue-haired stepping inside the room with a smirk playing on his lips. 

“who are you?”

“sam mongkut, nice to meet you.” there was a discreet sarcastic tone in his words that dylan decided to ignore to avoid creating more chaos. “i’m dexstrose’s owner.” 

oh, damn. 

now everything made sense. would he make him pay a fine because of the fight? well, they didn’t even break anything, but if that was what he wanted, why wasn’t the drunkard bastard there too? dylan wouldn’t pay for everything alone if that was what he was trying to do. 

“well, sorry for the fight.” he mumbled, looking at a random vinyl on the wall. “but that guy bumped into me first and didn’t apologize–” 

“that’s not why i called you here, d.zhou.” 

“then why– wait, how do you know this name?” that made dylan turn to stare at him, shocked. that was his username from a music platform where he used to upload a few of his productions. since he started at oner, he barely went back there.

“i have been following you for quite a while now,” he said with a shrug. “didn’t you produce midnight sun?” 

midnight sun was one of his latest songs he uploaded before he started at oner. it didn’t have a lot of listeners by then, so he would never think someone would remember that one. dylan didn’t know what he wanted to achieve saying all that to him.

“yeah… why?”

“dexstrose is more of a hobby of mine,” sam turned to get something from his table and walked to where dylan was to hand him a card. “i mainly work with music production. i liked your work, so imagine my disappointment when i heard you became an idol trainee at oner.” 

just the reminder of it made dylan frown, irritation buzzing under his skin. 

“i’m not a trainee there anymore.” he gritted his teeth and looked down at the card he was handed and recognized the label brand at the bottom. it managed a lot of underground artists.

“kicked out already?”

“something like that.” 

“i’m not surprised, pemika is one of the greediest ceos out there.” sam scoffed and leaned back against the table again, his gaze never leaving dylan. “but this means you’re free now, right?” dylan narrowed his eyes at him, unsure of what he meant with that. noticing that, sam added: “i want you to work with me.” 

“work with you?” dylan repeated, skeptical. “why?”

“you got a lot of raw talent, boy. i think it’s worth refining your abilities.” he said simply, as if that wasn’t what he craved to hear for years. dylan blinked the sudden tears away, blaming the alcohol for the way his emotions were going haywire. “i lost my chance to reach you before, and i don’t want to repeat the same mistake.”

“sorry for interrupting, p’sam, but we got his phone back.” one of the security guards opened the door and handed what was left of his phone to the blue-haired man. he left right after, probably to take care of whatever mess was still there, and sam walked towards him to give him the shattered electronic. 

his phone was beyond salvation. the screen was almost fully shattered, probably thanks to someone stepping on it in the middle of the fight, and it also wouldn’t turn on anymore. completely lost. 

“so, what do you think, boy?” sam’s voice made him look up again. he offered his hand. “do you accept my proposal?”

dylan bit his lips and looked down at the card again. 

he didn’t expect to find a new chance in dexstrose.

dylan stood up and shook his hand — now that he had nothing more to lose, dylan guessed that it was the perfect place to start again. 

—

one year later. 

“who do you think you are? you cannot pick a fight in my restaurant!”

“don’t meddle, meen, these guys are always like that!”

“but dad, they will make a mess here! stop coddling him!” 

“let your brother solve his own problems, meen. it’s not a lot to ask.”

“can’t he do that somewhere else? i have to open it in twenty minutes!” 

“he’s always suffering in this show.” tommy’s voice startled dylan. the rapper turned around to see him stepping inside the office with two cans of soda. “i think it’s karma.” 

dylan rolled his eyes and got one of the cans from his hand, opening it and leaning back on the new leather couch in sam’s office. he reached for the remote control and turned down the volume now that the scene changed, and his favorite character wasn’t in it. tommy looked at the tv, then sat by his side with a quiet sigh. dylan knew the upcoming sermon before it even left his mouth, so he was quick to interrupt.

“you don’t need to say it, i know.” 

“if you know, why do you keep doing it?” there was no bite in his tone — there wasn't much of anything, really — still dylan shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “i’m pretty sure it’s not healthy.”

“i just… want to see how he is doing, i think.” dylan mumbled, playing with the remote control. tommy didn’t answer, but it wasn’t needed. 

it’s been one year since he left oner and started to work for sam, and the world seems to have turned upside down. 

after he failed to work as a bartender in dexstrose, dylan focused on learning everything he could with p’sam about composition and music production. it didn’t bring a lot of money at the beginning, but recently he started to get his own clients and earn more. dylan even opened his personal studio two weeks ago, but didn’t finish furnishing it up, so most of his works were still done at sam’s. he had grown closer to the dexstrose crew and by now, he saw them more as family than anything. 

things weren’t bad for him, not really. dylan was happy to still have a chance to work with music, which was his dream since he was a kid. he was also happy to be able to be taught by such a great artist like sam, he was more influential in the underground area than dylan expected, so most of his clients were previously sam’s. thanks to his ties, dexstrose became his regular stage for performances. people loved him there and followed closely all his releases. his popularity was growing too, life was treating him quite well, if he was honest. 

his eyes went back to the tv when a familiar voice echoed again in the office. 

“i hope you know your huge ego cost me my restaurant! our dad may think you’re still a kid, but i don’t!”

“his brother is annoying as hell.” tommy muttered against his can before taking a sip. 

“yeah.” 

the door opened again. this time, a big man with the black uniform of the security team stepped inside, his eyes flew immediately to the television and he pointed to it with a surprised gasp. 

“oh! it’s pretty face’s show!” 

“what? really?” another voice was heard before more footsteps were heard. “oh, it is!” 

dylan rolled his eyes and hoped the blush in his cheeks wasn’t noticeable. he didn’t expect so many people in the room with him when he arrived at the pub. everyone was busy, that’s why he used the opportunity to watch the new episode. turns out it was a terrible idea. 

“don’t you dare just walk away like that, i’m talking to you!” 

“well, that guy really has a pretty face, huh.” p’trun said after the camera left the actor’s face to show a messy bedroom. 

“no wonder dylan can’t move on.” by his side, p’rey agreed solemnly. the three of them laughed and dylan wanted to disappear inside the couch. he promised himself to never watch another episode of king’s kitchen in public ever again. 

dylan was never one to binge-watch series or movies, the story of this one was not even that good, but what else was he supposed to do when that was the only place he could see jun? 

it came to him as a surprise that he signed up with oner as an actor instead of an idol. he never said much about acting in all those months as a trainee either, so imagine his surprise to see promotional videos of him in his social media. after they left the company, dylan couldn’t manage to contact him again and eventually gave up. jun loved fame and stardom, at least that is what he said in the few interviews he gave, and dylan gave up on the mainstream industry the day he decided to be sam’s pupil.

out of curiosity, dylan searched up what he was up to in social media. based on what he saw, jun was always a side character, sometimes partnered with another actor for a side couple or simply an extra with little relevance to the story. dylan was not a fan of tv series, still, he watched them all just to see him. the rapper told everyone he gave up on him — and he really did, mostly — but some days he missed him more than he should and that was the only place he could see him without consequences. 

dylan never tried to make contact, never followed him on his social media, never even went close oner’s building. 

things would be better for both if they kept distance. their lives were too different now, jun chose a path that scandals could be deadly and he could see the effort he put in his new career. dylan had his chance before and lost it, now he had to bear the burden of his failures and move on — if he ever discovered a way to do that.

dylan found out that it was hard to forget a first love. 

“what are you all doing here? we have a pub to open– oh.” to complete his misery, p’sam had to come in too. his recently retouched blue hair was almost shining under the white lights of his office. he just had to take a look at the tv to understand what was happening. “pretty face again?” 

“yeah.” all of them answered at the same time. dylan groaned, reaching for the remote to turn off the tv. he was going to finish the episode at home. 

“this guy is so irritating,” sam rolled his eyes, walking to his table to get a black pen from his stationery drawer. “whenever i see his face i feel like punching him.” 

“same.” p’trun agreed with a firm nod of his head. 

“that’s because dylan keeps crying about how that guy broke his heart.” tommy added, as if that was necessary, finishing his drink in a large sip. then, he threw the can into the trash bin on the opposite side of the room with ease. “but i’m pretty sure he had no idea you liked him in the first place. how could he when you’re so closed off?” 

“that doesn’t give that fucker the right to treat my baby boy as his fuck buddy!” sam rushed to side hug dylan, caressing his hair as if he was a crying kid. everyone laughed loudly, too pleased by the pseudo-joke to care about dylan’s humiliation. 

well, he indeed cried a few times in front of them about the whole jun-deal, especially after a few drinks tommy prepared. it was his drunk story. he never expected that it would start a jun’s hate club. apparently, he sounded way too pitiful and now they decided that their common enemy was jun.  

whenever he was caught watching something with him they would loudly announce to others what he was doing so they could gather and badmouth the actor. dylan had no idea if it was their attempt to help him move on, or if they genuinely hated his guts for disappearing on the day dylan was supposed to confess. whatever the reason was, it both bothered him and warmed his heart. at the same time he wanted them to know that jun was not a bad person — complicated and impossible to understand? for sure, but not bad — they were also one of the few people who genuinely liked him and took care of his well-being. 

none of his attempts to make them like jun worked, so he just let it go. maybe someday this feeling would someday rub off on him and dylan would also let his love for jun go. 

until there, he felt like he had a long way to go. 

“i swear if he ever steps one of his dainty little feet here, i’m going to diss the hell out of him!” sam announced, earning the cheers of the others. dylan just rolled his eyes and pushed the man away from him, forcing a laugh down. 

“that’s never going to happen,” he stood up, shaking his head with a small smile.  the idea of jun there was funny. “dexstrose is the last place someone like him would go.” 

“well, he better! or else he will feel the fury of the greatest jun-hate-club!” the other’s joined the cheers, looking like soldiers about to attack the enemy’s base. dylan pushed them out to leave the office, hopefully putting an end to that talk. 

“i will give him the most bitter drink we have!” tommy added as dylan pushed him out of the office, closing the door behind. 

“good one, tommy! and i will kick him out like a ball!” p’trun added. 

“i know a new rapper, i bet you could go on a date with him to forget that actor, what was his name again? kashi?” p’rey suggested. 

“keshi. and yeah, i bet he would be better than this jun!” sam corrected it easily. “oh, boy, i have so much to say to him whenever i see his pretty face!” he grinned, and dylan kept pushing the group down the corridor. all of them laughed, sharing all his evil ideas for the hypothetical day they would meet jun. 

but jun? at dexstrose? no matter how many times he thought about it, the idea was still as funny as the first time. dylan was never prepared for a reunion with jun, though. the possibility of them meeting again was so small he didn’t even consider it like a real thing he had to be afraid of. their paths were permanently separated, and he accepted that.

“shut up, everyone, and let’s get to work! as i said, that’s never going to happen!” 

however, a small part of him kept waiting for a miracle — and if that miracle happened, he wouldn’t reject the chance. 

—

two years later.

dylan groaned with the incessant buzzing of his phone while he was trying to finish his latest work. 

it was probably something stupid that they decided it was important, and now dylan was very close to blocking their number. he had way too much work to be distracted, he was barely at dexstrose these days due to high demand. his studio got quite popular after a few works he did for a couple of mainstream idols, it was an exception driven purely by money — he needed to upgrade some equipment in his studio — and what was a one time thing ended up giving him more work than what was probably worth. 

still, he had good working ethics and would finish everything he promised to do. and he could, if his friends just stopped sending him messages. 

dylan ignored it again, raising the volume of the music in his headphones to drown out the buzz until he finished it. after three years basically living with everyone in dexstrose, he was quite used to their antics. people hardly knew how silly they were outside their professional personas. 

his new strategy worked quite well. he saved the file and quickly sent it to the artist he was working with. dylan hoped there would be no further changes and he could finally be paid. the rapper closed his laptop and took off his headphones, stretching on sam’s couch like a lazy cat. he put his things on the table in front of the couch and reached for his phone. there were more than twenty messages in their group chat, the last being from ten minutes ago. frowning, he opened them. 

p’trun: 

you guys won’t believe who just parked outside dexstrose

zhou is gonna FREAK OUT

p’rey:

there’s no way i’m seeing it too 

should we start an emergency meeting???

where is he when we need him? 

does dylan have a performance today?

where’s everyone???? 

tommy: 

why are you spamming my messages app

i have work to do

p’sam:

what? who parked outside dexstrose? 

the police? 

that rapper dylan used to hook up with? if its that one just send him back, he’s annoying

wait i just came to the window, is that who i think it is…

p’trun: 

that’s why i said he’s gonna freak tf out!!!!! 

p’rey:

oh he just got in, p’trun let him in!!!! 

dear heavens i never thought this day would come

WHERE. IS. DYLAN

tommy: 

i’m seeing him getting closer to the bar

gotta be ready to prepare my hellish memoralia for him!!!!!

p’sam:

i can’t believe i’m finally going to see dylan’s pretty face in person

that’s gonna be fun

dylan stood up abruptly. 

there was no way they were telling the truth. 

it was impossible that jun was inside dexstrose.

“fuck!” the rapper groaned, running a hand on his grey hair and rushing to the door. his heart was beating almost out of his chest as he ran down the corridor from sam’s office to the bar area. 

he knew about jun’s unpredictability, it was one of the things that made him fall in love with the singer years ago, but to be this unpredictable was too much. what was he even thinking? he was aware that idols were not very welcomed into underground spaces, even if jun was just an actor now they didn’t really bother much with specificities. and to make things even worse, he was a hundred percent sure sam was not joking about the whole dissing thing. 

dylan had to find jun first and make him leave. 

the rapper reached the bar area in a few minutes, panting and sweating, but there was no jun around. he cursed his luck and walked to tommy, who prepared a new drink for a client. 

“did jun really come here?” 

“yes. i’m surprised too. unfortunately, he asked for a plain beer, so i couldn’t give him my hellish memoralia.” the bartender sighed, finishing the green drink and sliding the glass cup to the big tattooed man sitting on the stool. dylan opened his mouth to ask more, but tommy simply pointed to the small corridor that led to the performance area. “he went there now. good luck, i don’t think p’sam is going to let him go unscathed.”

“shit, thanks tommy.” the bartender just nodded, but dylan felt his eyes on him the whole way to the corridor. if he was worried, he was quite bad at showing it. 

dylan reached the back of the pub fast, stepping inside the crowded space with a single goal in mind: find jun. that day there was a lot of people, a popular rapper was coming out of hiatus with a song he produced — that was the reason he was there in the first place, he loved to see people’s first performance with his songs — and the excitement could be felt in the way everyone screamed, jumped and danced under the neon lights. 

and jun was still nowhere to be seen. 

to his horror, p’sam stepped on the stage to do the official opening of the rounds of performances for the night, but looking at his smug smile, dylan was certain that wasn’t his only goal. the older rapper’s eyes locked in a specific point in the middle of the crowd and he didn’t need to be a genius to put two and two together. dylan quickly followed his line of sight before he lost it, the crowd jumping and hyping sam’s performance was making everything even harder for him. his heart was beating in his ears, desperate for any sign of jun among the people.

it felt like a miracle that he saw the blue cardigan and the most awkward and uncomfortable looking person in the pub, and just like tommy said, he was holding a plain beer. dylan only saw his back, but it took off the air in his lungs for a second. 

he really was there. 

after three years, after thinking he was finally moving on, after rebuilding his life and being sure jun was only part of his past… the moment his eyes laid on him, it was like he was sent back three years in the past, to a quiet corner of oner’s practice room 01 — directly to jun’s arms. 

but he had no time to indulge into nostalgia, not when sam was finishing his performance and he had just a couple of minutes to manage to make jun leave. without letting his feelings take the wheel, he stepped closer and grabbed jun’s arm, feeling him startle under his grip as he was dragged to a quiet corner. dylan tried to not get too emotional with their proximity, but he couldn’t help but notice that even after three years, jun was still warm. 

that only made jun’s presence there worse. sam would not be merciful now that he had his eyes set on his prey.

“what the fuck are you doing here?!” dylan didn’t mean to sound rude, but he was in a rush, too many feelings bubbling under his skin and also, a part of him feared that jun had forgotten him. 

even in the cacophony of loud instrumentals, the screaming of the crowd and sam’s voice booming from the speakers, dylan still heard the gasp and the recognition shining in his eyes. 

he remembered. 

“dylan zhou?” he sounded surprised, blinking a few times like he couldn’t believe what he just saw. the rapper bit his lips, unsure of what to do with that reaction. was it good? was he happy to see him again? took a long second for jun to look up at him again. “what are you doing here?”

what he was doing here? what kind of question was that? dylan frowned with the absurdity of the question — the only person out of place there was jun. 

“me? i should be asking you that!” dylan scoffed, shaking his head a little. no matter how much he wanted, there was no time to indulge in small talks to catch up on their lives recently. “why did you come here?” 

“ah. well,” jun cleared his throat, looking awfully sheepish with the question. dylan narrowed his eyes, finding everything too suspicious. was he supposed to meet someone there? he couldn’t think of any other reason for someone like him to be there. jun seemed unsure of what to answer for a while. “i wanted to experience something different.” he said instead of whatever must be running on his mind, with a nonchalant shrug.

well, that didn’t help much. dylan furrowed his brows and sighed, running a hand through his silver-hair. he tried to avoid looking too much at jun, the actor was so damn pretty even under the pub’s bad lighting that dylan felt tempted to finish what he started three years ago. 

focus, dylan, he reminded himself, you need to get him out of here.

“this is not a place for you, get out of here. now.” 

dylan started to push him toward the corridor, hoping it was enough to make him follow his instructions. outside, he would explain the situation better. but of course, it was jun he was dealing with. 

“no!” jun yelled and got away from his pushing and put some distance between them, stepping closer to the crowd again. now, it was dylan who wanted to yell. jun was still as annoying as ever. “who are you to tell me to get out? do you own this place?” he gestured to the pub, angry. “i made a reservation, i paid for the beer, so you have no right to tell me to ‘get out’!” 

“you’re so fucking stubborn and stupid!” dylan groaned, running his hands through his hair again. how was he supposed to save jun if he kept being an idiot about it? “i’m serious, jun, just leave–”

dylan was interrupted when a spotlight was redirected to where they were, more specifically, to where jun was. his stomach dropped. he was too late. he heard the actor groan with the sudden light burning his eyes. all eyes were on him, burning with curiosity and malicious intent. that was going to be a bloodshed, and he looked around in an attempt to find a way out of the pub, but all the entrances were being watched, and if he ran right now, with the spotlight on them, the chaos would be even worse. 

dylan cursed, irritated. 

“everyone!” on the stage, sam exclaimed on the microphone, claiming everyone’s attention in a second. “today we have a special guest!” the crowd cheered and screamed. shit, that was going to be horrible. “he used to be a trainee in an idol factory, oh wait, sorry, i mean idol company.” everyone laughed and booed, the buzz growing around them. 

dylan’s head worked hard to find a way to save him from that situation. maybe if he created a distraction somehow… but every plan that came up required him to leave jun by himself there, and his whole body refused to do so. old habits die hard, he guessed. 

“i heard he is an actor now,” p’sam went on, venom dripping off each word. he was intent to humiliate jun. some days, when he thought about the past and felt angry about everything, he imagined himself saying words like this to jun too. making him regret. but now that was happening, he could see the way his face contorted in anger and his face flush, his grip on the beer bottle almost breaking, the only thing dylan felt was pain. he wanted it to stop.“did music not pay you enough? or you decided that it was more productive to use your pretty face for other things?” he grossly mimicked kissing and sex acts and, again, the crowd laughed. dylan angrily looked up at sam, but the old rapper was not going to stop. he knew him better than anyone else. “i’m curious, who loves money more: idols or their factories?” 

half of the people there screamed idols and the other half screamed factories in a cacophony carefully designed to crush jun. 

that was going too far.

“hey, hey everyone, let’s not laugh too much,” sam pretended to calm down the crowd, his eyes daring jun to go up there and do something. dylan lowered his gaze to the actor in front of him, afraid he would accept the dare. “we all know that for these doll-like idols, music doesn’t mean anything if it’s not worth money. that’s why he chickened out and preferred to kiss pretty faces for the camera!” 

the crowd shrieked, laughs echoing through the building. 

“this motherfucker.” jun grumbled, hands tightening around the glass bottle. dylan reached out to touch him, maybe to calm him down, maybe just to indulge the yearn to touch just to feel him again, but before he could decide on his intentions and actually do something, jun started walking to the stage, pushing everyone in front of him to make space.

“jun, wait, don’t–” startled, dylan tried to hold his arm, but the actor was quick to shove him and rush to where sam was waiting, too satisfied to see his plan working.

the crowd went crazy when they realized that jun was really going to the stage, screaming and mocking, a few of them hyping him up as well. dylan felt his heart ache in a way that he only felt three years ago, on dark bathrooms and lonely rooftops. he wasn’t used to it anymore. 

 jun climbed the two stairs that led to the stage and the spotlights followed him. side by side, sam and jun had a good centimeters of difference and under the thick layer of stress and anxiety, it amused him. 

“so you really have the guts to come up here, pretty face?” the older rapper grinned, the crowd around dylan booed, others screamed for jun to do something so they could be entertained. they wanted his complete humiliation and dylan just couldn’t wait and watch it happen. he was about to go up to the stage when the microphone was snatched from sam’s hand. 

“listen here, you bastard,” his voice echoed loudly through the countless speakers spread throughout the area. dylan didn’t know if he wanted him to continue or not. “i may not know how to rap, but let me tell you something. just because you live like a rat in this shitty sewer with your minions, it doesn’t mean you have a superior sense of music or are any better than idols.” he spat the words, pushing him with his other hand that still held tightly the beer bottle. “you are just a coward that doesn’t dare to put your face out there like idols do.”

dylan physically flinched at that, a few people in the crowd did that too. then, came the screams again. he couldn’t make out a lot of what they were saying, most of that were swear words, but a part of his heart swelled in pride that he was able to stand up for himself like that. it was the most suicidal option, the dumbest too, but still quite endearing to see. 

“you–” sam didn’t seem to expect it, the blunt clap back was a surprise to his plans, and dylan had to swallow down a giggle watching him try to reach the microphone and failing when jun raised it up.

“and also, since i’m already here, let me tell you one more thing, you stinky little shit,” he lowered the microphone to speak again, pushing him further until he was one step away from falling. from the corner of his eye, dylan saw p’trun start to make his way towards the stage. “you speak so bad about idols, but the only thing you do is come up here, say a few stupid words that rhyme for a bunch of idiots and call that being superior?” he pointed to the general space of the building and laughed. “and maybe you should worry more about money. look at this place, it’s as ugly as your face.”

then, without warning, jun poured the rest of his beer on his head. the crowd went dead silent for a long minute, watching in disbelief the scene unfold in front of them.

alright, that went too far — jun was going to get himself killed. 

dylan rushed up before people started to react and dragged the actor out of the stage. in his last act of defiance, jun threw the microphone on his way out aiming for sam’s head, apparently, but it hit the wall. it let out a loud ringing that made everyone cover their ears. it was poor, but enough distraction to cover their run towards the back exit. 

he didn’t stop pulling him by his arm through the corridors until they were out of dexstrose. bangkok’s night breeze hit their skin and when dylan closed the door behind him, whatever sound that could come out of the pub was muffled. they were alone. before dylan could say anything, jun turned, glaring at him. 

“why did you drag me out of there?” he yelled, throwing the empty bottle in a wall far from where they were and watching it shatter. dylan watched him throw a fit, musing if he ever saw that side of him back in their trainee days. “fuck! what a jerk, i would’ve made him regret every word that came out of that dirty mouth of his if you hadn’t interfered! what were you even thinking?”

the gravity of the situation still didn’t seem to have dawned on jun. he didn’t mean to glare at him, but the outburst and the strong shoving could open space for jun to do something crazy like running inside there again where a bunch of people were actively wanting to kick and punch him like a trash bag. 

“do you seriously think that you were going to walk out of there in one piece after the little show you gave them?” dylan pointed, seriously. jun visibly gulped, hopefully taking his words into consideration to calm down. 

“well,” jun crossed his arms, looking not that sure of himself anymore now. “i’m pretty sure i could’ve handled myself if that weird guy came at me.”

“you’re worried about the wrong person,” dylan shook his hand and detached himself from the dirty walls of the alleyway they were in. “the whole crowd would try to get you.”

that shut him up. 

dylan bit back a smile looking at him. the insanity of the situation back in the pub didn’t let him appreciate his presence as much as he would like. it’s been three years that he could only see jun through screens, hear his recorded voice, and remember his smell just because he still bought the same cheap fabric softener he used when they were trainees. 

to have him so close again was both the biggest blessing and the greatest temptation he ever had. 

but to admit that was too embarrassing. jun probably moved on from whatever they had in the past — he heard the dating rumours, although dylan had his fair share of hook-ups and blind dates, thanks to his friends, it still hurt a little bit — so he was not going to bring it up. they were not the same from three years ago, even if the way his heart did somersaults in his chest upon the sight of him didn’t change. 

“but really, why did you come here?” dylan asked again, urging an honest answer this time. jun sighed, dramatically, and gave up. 

“for a role.”

“what?”

“for a role,” he repeated, sounding embarrassed. “it’s my first time trying to get a main role and the director said i needed to connect with the character.” jun explained further, straightening his back a little. “and, well, the character grew up in one of these…” he pointed in the general direction of dexstrose with a scrunched up face. “places. i wanted to see what made him feel safe and happy, why he cherished it so much, and why it was a home for him.” 

home huh… 

so that was what he needed?

“and did you find what made it his home?” dylan asked, curiosity barely concealed. after everything that happened, it would be weird if jun found something useful for that ‘role’. 

“well, i don’t… i don’t know?” a frustrated sigh escaped his lips and jun crossed his arms, walking toward the wall and sliding down it until he squatted on the floor. dylan watched him closely, hoping that the absolute chaos he felt on his chest didn’t show on his face. in his memories, jun was that big, strong person… why does he look so small now? “my experience was not exactly pleasant,” jun continued, hugging his knees tighter, somehow making himself look even smaller. “but i kind of see what could make him feel at peace here. the character is a bit like you, so i guess he would’ve blended in much better than i did.”

“do you need to do all that just to understand a character?” dylan frowned again, maybe it was him who was not used to an actor's life, but putting himself in underground pubs just for that seemed a little too much.

“yeah,” jun nodded and looked up at him from where he was on the floor. “i really need to do well in the next audition with the director, or else i can lose the role.”

oh, that was not good then. from what he knew, jun was only getting minor character all this time. dylan would like to see him as a main character — but would that mean he would have one of those fixed pairings? his nails dug slightly in his palms as he thought about it. that would be bothersome to see. 

not that he was still clinging to old feelings or anything. 

jun stood up suddenly, looking at him with a huge grin on his lips. dylan’s experience with him screamed that there was something very bad running in his mind and that something was going to involve him one way or another. 

“why are you looking at me like that?” the rapper furrowed his brows, taking a slight step back even if everything in him wanted to do the opposite. 

“you could help me!” he held dylan’s arms, a big smile stretching his lips. the rapper tried to not think much about the way the skin jun touched burned.

“i definitely cannot.” dylan tried to release himself from his grip, but jun only tightened it and brought him closer. the burning was escalating further, reaching a point where it would be impossible to come back unscathed. 

but, again, jun would not be deterred by dylan’s futile attempts. 

“of course you can!” jun insisted, he barely seemed to hear what dylan was saying. “come on, for the good old times we trained together–” without thinking twice, dylan quickly put a hand in his mouth to cover it.

the rapper startled with the sudden mention of his trainee times. for some reason, he never expected jun to bring it up. he spent all those years shoving them down the most abandoned corner of his brain and having jun mention it so suddenly just undid three years of hard, laborious work. 

“they don’t know…” jun muttered as he took off dylan’s hand from his mouth. the rapper avoided reacting much, not sure what he was talking about but not wishing to reveal things unnecessarily. he kept quiet as jun’s mind worked in unknown ways to figure it out. he let out an airy laugh and continued. “i can’t believe you managed to hide it for so long.”

ah, he meant the trainee thing. 

well, that wasn’t exactly a lie. no one except the dexstrose crew knew about it, those two worlds never really mixed up much and sam said to avoid talking about it in public. 

dylan felt torn — should he be happy that his secret wasn’t found out or frustrated that jun never seemed to notice how he felt? 

“shut up.” dylan rolled his eyes and pushed jun’s hands away from him. it was better to keep himself neutral. “what do you want?” 

“help me get the role i want.” jun said plainly. 

that was exactly what he feared. nothing about it sounded like a good idea. 

but did jun ever had good ideas? or was dylan strong enough to refuse them?

“and if i don’t?” 

“well, i guess your little weird friends will have a lovely time writing a dissing rap for ex-trainees who love to lie.” his whole body tensed in preparation for a plan that probably only would work in jun’s head. his unpredictability was messing with dylan again. 

“you’re bluffing.” dylan accused, eyes squinting at him in a silent threat to not try anything funny. 

jun smirked, turned around and ran toward the entrance of the pub. 

what a fucking madman! 

what the hell was he doing? was jun trying to get himself killed? dylan watched in disbelief as he get further in the alleyway, making his way back to dexstrose’s entrance. dylan cursed under his breath and ran after him when he didn’t show any sign of stopping. the deal was the least of his problems if he reached the pub again. with his heart beating in his ears, fast and loud, he couldn’t help but muse about the irony of the situation. 

chasing jun again after three years. it was almost like a physical reflection of his feelings. 

the difference is that, this time, he reached jun — maybe too much.

he didn’t notice before that the actor had slowed down and when he did, it was too late to stop. their bodies crashed full force against each other and their fall was quite ugly. dylan groaned, pain exploding in different parts of his body with the abrupt fall. when he opened his eyes to get an understanding of his surroundings, he first noticed that they were a few meters away from the end of the alleyway, and he was on top of jun. 

that didn’t help whatever chaos was exploding in his chest. it was hard to know if his uneven breath was thanks to the run, the fall or the proximity with jun. their bodies were glued in a way he didn’t feel for three years, warmth engulfed him — familiar, comfortable, begging him to lean in and bask in it. dylan didn’t indulge himself, even when he saw jun’s eyes travel down his lips. 

he dug his nails on the dirt floor — control yourself, dylan, control yourself. 

“so,” jun started, adjusting his body under dylan so he could fully stare at him. temptingly, one of his hands held his chin. dylan swallowed dry. “still think i’m bluffing?” 

“i hate you.” there were countless reasons for saying that, too many to even process right now, but dylan’s scowl only made jun chuckle, satisfied. 

“i get that a lot.” he shrugged and tightened a bit more his grip on his chin, bringing his face closer. dylan tried to not think how beautiful he looked up close like that. “do we have a deal, then?”

once he said that if a miracle ever happened to him, he wouldn’t reject the chance. 

that was probably the dumbest thing he ever said to himself, but facing jun again — his miracle — he found out that it was impossible to do anything other than stupidly grab the chance. 

so dylan nodded — and hoped this miracle didn’t leave him heartbroken a second time. 

—

one year later. 

the light filtered through the poorly placed curtain of the bedroom. 

dylan opened his eyes, moving only slightly on the bed as he gathered his surroundings as his brain tried to get rid of the dreamy fog it was in — the memories from three years ago had replayed in his mind again after a long time. the ceiling above him was white instead of the dark grey he was used to, the walls were also white and bare without his posters and vinyl disks glued on the wall, neither did it have his shelves of signed albums, microphones and small plants. but the sheets and covers still smelled like his favorite fabric softener from three years ago — that was one of the only things that made that room feel less like a stranger’s bedroom and more like his.

or, rather, their bedroom. 

by his side, asleep in his arms, jun shifted and snuggled closer, tightening his grip around his waist. 

a smile bloomed on his lips and he let his body rest on the mattress again, morning routine forgotten. it was impossible to win against a sleepy jun, especially when his hair was all messy and fluffy, cheeks squished on his shoulders, lips parted in a soft, steady breathing, and his body all over dylan’s. he would never say it out loud, but jun was a cute sleeper. 

his eyes traveled down the disheveled top of his hair to the diamond earrings he gave jun on his birthday two months ago — and he almost never took it off — then to the classic  puppy pajamas with half of the buttons unbuttoned. he was so cozy that it almost lulled him back to sleep. 

that was a sight he was still trying to get used to even though they have been dating officially for a year already. maybe dylan would be forever astonished that he was there with him, fully his to touch, to appreciate, to kiss, to listen, to bicker, to argue, to do everything. three years ago that was a desire he couldn’t even fathom, never allowed himself to dream about it. it was a miracle that brought them together once more and, as dylan carefully brushed a few brown strands away from jun’s eyes, he was grateful.

nothing about their whole journey was perfect, far from that actually. thinking back on it, there were a lot of things he would change, words he would say, moments that would be better if he kept silent instead — dylan sometimes didn’t know if the true miracle was them meeting again or making it work. 

and now, here they are, laying in the same bed. next to them there were boxes, messy belongings, poorly placed curtains, surrounded by bare walls that begged to be made a home. 

“staring?” jun’s slurred voice made him look down. only one of his eyes was open, clearly displeased by the sunlight filtering through the curtains. 

“yeah.” dylan admitted with ease, letting his hands hold comfortably the waist under the puppy pajamas. warm as always. 

“what a creep.” he mumbled, eyes closing and face burying half on the pillow half on dylan’s shoulders. “should’ve thought better before marrying you.”

dylan choked on a breath. 

“we’re not– you didn’t marry me!” he spluttered, shocked.

“we’re living together,” jun deadpanned, as if it explained everything. matter of fact it didn’t. “almost the same thing.” 

the rapper shook his head, forcing his cheeks to not blush. jun had a way to say the least thing he expected and always threw him off. like the little shit he was, jun just smirked and pretended to sleep again. dylan tried to not think too much about the idea of marrying him, as if it would somehow make his heart beat like a normal heart should. he failed miserably.

but jun had a point, somehow. 

the decision to live together came quite abruptly, as it always happened with them. he was working on his studio, jun by his side reading a script on the leather armchair he bought just for him, completely immersed in fixing a beat when the actor said, without even putting down his script.

“do you want to live together?” 

fair to say dylan choked and almost fell off his chair. he had no idea where that came from but, apparently, jun had been thinking about it for a while. when they sat down to seriously discuss the possibility, the actor already had a few options picked. 

it was sudden, but not completely crazy to think about it. they were dating for a year, — really dating — and they basically lived together already, jun spent more time at his apartment than on his own, going back only when either he needed to get something, which was getting rarer given that slowly most of his belongings were finding its way to dylan’s cabinets, drawers and cupboards, or the rapper wanted to go there. the problem was that they lived far from each other and, by extension, far from their workplaces.

the solution was obvious, really, dylan just didn’t expect jun to be the one proposing.

with the decision made, they spent most of their free time looking for the perfect place. dylan was pretty sure he visited every single building in bangkok but to jun it was never enough — “i can’t see us here. you know what i mean?” he said every time he turned down a new place and it warmed dylan’s heart more than he was willing to admit. the fact that jun kept including him in everything was heartwarming. 

when they finally settled, it was in a pretty big apartment located between both of their workplaces, and funny enough, not far from dexstrose either. thanks to the move, their last weeks had been hectic. they were living together only for four days. most of the boxes were still in the corners of the rooms, their meals had been takeouts throughout the week since the kitchen was too messy for them to go out for grocery shopping. dylan was pretty sure he was using the same five sets of clothes for days, and he didn’t know where most of his personal belongings were, but dylan never felt so exhausted but at the same time so happy before. 

if someone told this to the dylan from three years ago, he would have laughed. 

“we have to get up.” dylan muttered after glancing at the clock on the wall — the only thing they put in their bedroom. 

“nooo, i don’t want to.” jun refused like a spoiled kid, tightening his arms around him to make dylan stay on the bed. 

“we have a schedule, remember?” it was understandable jun felt tired, on top of the moving he also started shooting for a new movie, which was taking most of his time. still, they couldn’t opt out from that one. “come on, p’kai is going to call you any moment now.” 

jun groaned, unsatisfied, but didn’t complain when dylan sat and pulled him up. the rapper had to physically drag him to the bathroom, looking through one of the boxes for a dry towel, put it on top of the closed toilet, and pushed jun inside the shower box, muttering a ‘be fast’ before closing the door and going for the other bathroom. 

the apartment they chose was quite good, spacious too. it had three bedrooms, and that amount of rooms was something jun insisted on having, dylan didn’t understand why at first, but once they moved and the boxes started coming, he happily pointed out to the third room where a handmade paper door-plate was glued on the door, it read (small) studio from mars with little planets and sparkles drawn and colored around it. dylan never thought to have a smaller version of his studio at home, whenever he needed to work he just put on his headphones and locked himself in whatever room jun was not in. the fact that jun was the one that insisted on preparing that space for him almost made him cry. 

it’s been four days and dylan still hasn't taken the paper plate from the door. maybe he never would. 

he smiled to himself and went to the second bathroom at the end of the corridor, leaving the door ajar as he undressed. it was another mess in that bathroom too. boxes labeled as bathroom 2 scattered, a few of them semi-open, but most were still sealed since they chose to avoid the work and were mostly using the one in their bedroom. 

dylan turned on the shower and stepped inside, letting the warm water wash away the tiredness that seeped into his bones and never left. his plan was to make quick work of washing his hair, face and look a little less like he hated leaving his bed this morning — even though he did — but of course, his plans could never win against their natural predator: jun. 

“baaaaaabeee!” his voice bounced off the walls, whiny and quickly approaching. dylan barely had time to wash off the shampoo foam from his hair before jun slammed the door open, dripping wet all over the carpet from their room to the bathroom 02, only a towel wrapped around his waist. “let me use your shampoo.” 

“what about yours?” he asked as he watched jun throw his towel on top of his and step into the shower box with him. 

“i don’t want it today.” jun mumbled distractedly, reaching for his. dylan bit his lips behind him, biting back a smile that threatened to expose his nonchalant façade. he couldn’t have that. the rapper held him by the shoulders and pulled him to be exactly in front of him, back turned, and grabbed the shampoo from his hands. “what–”

“let me help, you big baby.” 

he heard jun giggle, all mischievous, and easily settled in his new position. it seemed that whatever goal he had, was accomplished. dylan squeezed a good portion of shampoo in his hands, rubbed them together and let his foam filled fingers scrub his scalp. he didn’t remember when was the last time they had such a peaceful morning.

when they were not rushing to get things ready or organized, it was their work demanding more and more. 

it was hard to have a break — maybe that was why dylan decided to cherish that moment to the fullest. he washed jun’s hair, turned on the shower to rinse it, and because he was a weak man, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. the skin under his lips twitched and the actor’s head turned slowly to watch his movements with half lidded eyes almost fully covered by his wet hair. 

“don’t start what we don’t have time to finish.” he warned, body tense near him. dylan smirked, turned around and bit the area softly before stepping back. 

“i’m done,” dylan announced, stepping out of the shower box and reaching for the towel, purposely leaving a dumbfounded jun behind him. “don’t take too long. i will start our breakfast.”

he let himself smile with the groan he heard from his boyfriend before closing the door behind him. 

dylan went back to their room to rummage through the open boxes labeled as dyl’s clothes ^. .^₎⟆ and fished the first pair of pants and hoodies he saw, then, like always, he did a mental note to organize that into the wardrobe as soon as possible. 

just like the rest of the house, the kitchen was a mess. he went through some boxes to find two clean dishes and washed the only two mugs that were not covered by bubble wrap to make them some coffee. unfortunately, the breakfast would be sandwiches, coffee and an apple — he at least cut it into smaller pieces to make it look more put together. 

waiting for jun to get dressed, the rapper busied himself organizing a few boxes in the corner of the kitchen, with the empty promise to come back to it that week. next to the one with cups there was a smaller unlabeled box. he frowned, reaching for the knife on the countertop and opening it. surprisingly, there was a lot of medicine, first aid kits and ointments. shouldn’t that be in the bathroom? it was weird, dylan didn’t remember that box and no one wrote anything on it. he rummaged through it until he saw a familiar package at the very bottom of the box — his sleeping pills.

since the day he collapsed in his studio and jun had to rush him to the hospital, dylan was almost forbidden to get close to sleeping pills again. the actor even took his little stash of pills away from him after they started dating, probably afraid he had an addiction to it or something. dylan never came around to explain much about what happened that day. 

he remembers only parts of it. to be honest, most of his memories are cloudy and blurry, but it was the release of jun’s series. dylan was hurt by everything that happened, knew it was a bad idea to watch it, but still opened the video on his studio’s computer. maybe it was seeing jun again, even if just through a screen, or maybe it was the memories of him practicing those same scenes with him before that made an ugly feeling creep up inside his chest. dylan didn’t even realize what he was doing at the moment, he just finished the episode teary eyed and decided that it was better to sleep than dwell on it. he had drunk, but that didn’t seem a problem as he swallowed two sleeping pills. when the world spun weirdly and his breathing became too unstable, the only thing he could think of was jun. his shaky fingers gripped his phone and desperately tried to call him again — the idea of dying without confessing scared him more than he thought it would. 

dylan once again thought he had enough time. 

enough time to let things fix themselves if he waited. 

enough time to let go of his anger and be honest. 

he was a fool. 

it was a miracle that things didn’t end as bad as they could. another one for his list. 

he put it back and closed the box, pushing it to the farthest corner in the kitchen.

“oh, we have more options today than i thought.” jun approached, curiously watching the plates on the counter, an easy smile plastered on his lips. 

“we have to organize this mess,” dylan said as he handed him his coffee and sat on the stool by his side. “when do you have time?” jun took a bite of his sandwich and hummed. 

“what about this weekend? i only had a small meeting with the company, but i will ask p’kai to reschedule it.”

“p’sam asked me to perform at dexstrose, but i can reschedule it too–”

“wait,” jun held his shoulder to interrupt him. staring straight into his eyes. “are you performing midnight sun?” 

“uh… yes?” 

“then don’t.” 

“but the cleaning–”

“it can wait. i want to see you perform that one.” jun nodded to himself, solemnly. dylan couldn’t help but laugh at that. 

midnight sun was one of his most popular solo songs, its performance was thought to be very eye-catching. he didn’t think it was sexy or anything, but jun apparently fell in love with it the first time he saw him perform it and never missed a chance to see it on the stage again — and, well, it also always gave dylan the best fuck afterwards, so he was not at loss there. 

“sure.” he mumbled, feeling his face heat up under the silent promise of what would come after the performance. “but what about cleaning? we can’t live rummaging through boxes our whole lives.”

“we can do the most we can this weekend, and throughout the week we organize whatever is left.” jun proposed, chewing on a piece of apple. 

“yeah, sounds good.” 

the actor smiled with the deal done and leaned over the kitchen island they were sitting on, held his face with a hand and placed a soft kiss on his lips. it was nothing deep or long, just a warm, press of lips that roused the butterflies that seemed to be a perpetual inhabitant in his chest. 

oblivious to the obvious as jun was, he just kept eating and sipping on his coffee, eyes fixed on the screen of his phone as he scrolled down his timeline, unaware of the countless feelings threatening to swallow the rapper whole. 

“how long until we need to leave?” dylan asked with practiced nonchalance. jun barely looked up before leaving his social media and open p’kai’s chat to look through it until he found the right message. dylan’s breakfast was mostly forgotten on the marbled countertop as he watched his fingers slide up and down the screen, lips thoughtlessly bitten.

jun was bathed by the soft early morning sunlight coming through the veranda and windows, hair wet and tousled on top of his head. so damn beautiful.

“we need to be in the building in two hours,” he answered. jun was busy checking the new messages to notice dylan leaving his seat and approaching him. “why are you–” 

he interrupted him abruptly when he turned the stool around and slotted himself between jun’s leg. the actor gasped, surprised, with the sudden change in the air. 

“then i guess we have spare time.” dylan smirked, leaning down enough to feel his heavy breathing. jun put down the coffee mug and raised an eyebrow.

“we sure do, babe.”

soon, jun’s lips were on his — urgent, burning, pressing closer, deeper . 

that was the perfect way to start his morning. 

—

dylan was slowly getting used to the flashes. 

they were quick and came from all the sides, from professional cameras to smartphones, capturing his every move. he used to be the focus only while he was on the stage, but he was performing so it didn’t happen as often. however since jun announced officially he was dating dylan, things got hectic for a while, both online and offline. 

a lot of people seemed to fully support their relationships, others were pretty open about hating him for whatever reason they came up with. dylan didn’t mind much, his career wasn’t built on those people support — although he gained more new listeners than he thought — but what worried him the most was jun’s career. he had a lot of good things going on, a bright perspective of future in his acting path, so if dylan somehow ruined it all with his presence in jun’s life he would never forgive himself. 

jun was quick to always reassure him that nothing was his fault, but that was hard to believe when he looked outside the little bubble of their lives. that’s why at the beginning dylan always made excuses to avoid any public schedule with him. if jun knew what he was doing he never addressed, just kept on pestering until he gave up. 

after a few months things were easier, the spotlight over them was not as bright anymore. things were working. jun was happy. that’s all dylan needed to feel the weight of the world lift off his shoulders. 

“good afternoon, everyone!” the event host greeted the fans in the event area. the crowd screamed and cheered excitedly. “it’s with great pleasure that we welcome jun and dylan!” 

jun held his hands, smiling confidently at him before stepping on the stage. the screams increased in volume, the flashes too, he tried to not think much about how every single angle of his body was being filmed and would later be scrutinized by fans and haters alike on social media. he looked up and saw jun carry himself with an enviable ease, all smiles and exuding confidence. how does he even do that? media training? was he just used to it? 

“hello, everyone! my name’s jun and it’s a great pleasure to be here to talk about my new series, storm chaser, where i play the lead character, mek.” he introduced himself to the crowd, smiling and waving to the cameras and fans around. then, his eyes landed on dylan’s and he nodded slightly to signal that he could talk now. 

“hi, i’m dylan. i worked with the series’ soundtrack.” the greeting lacked jun’s charisma, but the crowd screamed for him too. 

the host quickly took the lead of the event and introduced the series that was set to be aired next month. jun was working on that project for months now, it was his second opportunity as male lead and the cast was full of stars, which doubled the importance of that series for his career. dylan was hired to produce and compose most of the soundtrack for it, at first he thought it would be just one or two songs, but the company and director loved his work and hired him to produce the rest of the songs.

jun was joyful to know the news, dylan also liked that somehow their worlds were the same again — at least, for a while. 

he just didn’t expect it would mean that he was included in the promotions for the series as well. 

it was the first time he was anything other than a spectator at those things. whenever he had time, dylan accompanied jun to those events, watched from the sidelines and drove him back home like a normal boyfriend would. but he didn’t know what to do now up there, in front of screaming fans, dozens of cameras and probably a hashtag about them going around. 

thankfully the host was aware of his lack of experience and carried most of the event by himself with jun. dylan was there just to laugh at a few things, participate in the games he proposed — apparently, the crowd loved whenever they acted like boyfriends and not professionals, which jun obviously was eager to indulge. near the end of the event when the questions focused on the series itself. jun answered most of them, talking about his character, the overall story, how was the shooting and his relationship with the rest of the crew. then, the host turned to dylan to ask some questions about the production process of the soundtrack, which he gladly answered. 

“so, tell us, jun,” the host spoke on the microphone, calling the actor’s attention after dylan finished a detailed recount of how he thought the series’ songs to reference the different weathers, an important part of the storytelling. “how was the experience of working with your boyfriend for this series?” 

dylan’s eyes widened at that, surprised that it was even a question. around them, the crowd let out a loud shriek with the topic. 

“well, i would love to say it was something out of a rom-com,” jun grinned, all mischievous, and dylan rolled his eyes, knowing immediately what he was going to talk about. “but oh, gosh, i don’t recommend it.”

the area exploded in laughter at jun’s dramatic antics. 

“why not?”

“you see, dylan is too much of a workaholic, so whenever we were at the studio he was like ‘the tone isn’t right! you are not saying this word right! wrong note! sing it higher, sing it lower!’” he mimicked his voice. dylan couldn’t even be mad at that, he seemed so happy to talk about it that he just shook his head and bit back a laugh himself. 

he used to be insecure about jun never being open about his relationship with him, always treating what they had as a dirty secret that had to be hidden from the world. it was not like he didn’t understand the reason, rationally he did, but a part of him hurt with the idea of never being able to be openly together, have their little moments in public without being afraid of backlash. 

so, yeah, dylan could never be mad about jun’s dramatic recounts of their time working together. if anything, he was satisfied that he felt secure enough to talk about that in front of so many fans. 

“i do not sound like that.” he argued back, just for the sake of bickering with him. 

“you do!” jun insisted, even the host laughed at that along with the crowd. “and you know what’s worse?” he turned to the fans, who promptly answered back with a cacophony of ‘what?’ and ‘tell us!’. “i can’t even block his number after i leave the company. first because i love him,” his sudden confession startled both dylan and the fans, who gasped and yelled in excitement. it’s not his first time hearing that, still it made his chest ache with the purest adoration. “and second, because even if i did that, he was in my living room at the end of the day. so i was having dinner, or watching something, or cleaning and there he was ‘jun did you study the lyrics? did you practice? what about the parts i told you to focus on?’ it is not easy, everyone!”

the venue exploded in laughs. jun giggled and ran to where he was to tightly hug him and kiss his cheeks. the flashes increased and people seemed to go a little crazier than before. dylan hoped none of the cameras caught his blush. 

“but, all in all,” jun kept speaking, still glued to his side. dylan slid a hand in his waist and pulled him even closer. “it was a great experience. i just hope my boyfriend lets me procrastinate a little more in the future.” 

“never. next time i’m going to be even worse.” the rapper assured with a roll of eyes and jun groaned, dramatically. 

after a few more questions, the host stood up from his chair and did his ending speech, explaining more details about the series’ release and inviting everyone to watch it. then, he turned to them and thanked them for their participation in today’s event. before leaving, they took some pictures and recorded videos, apparently the normal routine before being free. jun guided him in every step, explaining what they had to do and the best way to do it. 

p’kai was waiting for them in the dressing room when they finally left the stage area. he enthusiastically praised their efforts and while they removed their make up and changed back into their clothes, he showed them the amazing reception their first event together had online. jun pulled his chair closer to be able to see the tablet the manager handed him. 

puppytronjun: OUR FIRST JUNDYLAN EVENT YALL HOW ARE YOU FEELING #JunDylanXStormChaser

sunflowerjunnie: i KNOW its been 1 year but its still crazy to me that jundylan is a real thing omg they look so so good #JunDylanXStormChaser

vanilladylan: guys i was at today’s event and let me tell you the way dylan’s eyes NEVER leave jun is crazyyyyyy he’s all cool and aloof but whenever jun does his little silly things? that man is GONE #JunDylanXStormChaser

junnjunnieyeah: omhkn kaorngaonh i saw them with MY OWN EYES todaykatenguen not good guys T-T i feel SO single #JunDylanXStormChaser

sunflowerjun: OH MYGODFKIGG GUYS OUR FIRST JUNDYLAN EVENt AGKEGN we need to make it popular so we can have MORE MORE I NEED MORE #JunDylanXStormChaser

jundylover: it’s sooooo good to hear dylan talk about music and production yall, he is so knowleadgable and the whole time jun was looking at him as if he held the moon and the stars in the sky, i’m crying they’re precious #JunDylanXStormChaser

flowersfor_jun: #jundylan storm chaser au, where dylan is a sailor who can’t see himself on land anymore, until he finds jun, a singer in a small village he anchor his boat and they fall in love (YES I THINK JUNDYLAN WOULD BE PERFECT FOR THE SERIES ughhh i wish they were cast together #JunDylanXStormChaser

puppiestjunn: it’s so adorable how they bicker all the time, but they’re always glued together and being lovely, ugh the couple of the year already #JunDylanXStormChaser

junryanisreal55: is this cheater still with that albino noodle? #junryan was so much better than whatever this is #JunDylanXStormChaser

midnightsundylan: i wasn’t interested in this series at all, until dylan explained the soundtrack project he created for it. now i feel like i need to watch just to see how it plays out… #JunDylanXStormChaser

kittyzhou: hate to say that jun and dylan DO look good together. dylan is glowing recently and i think that’s thanks to him too sighhhh #JunDylanXStormChaser

unsungbyd.zhou: still think its a bad idea for dylan to mix up with those mainstream names, but what can we do right, at least his works can be more well known now #JunDylanXStormChaser

dyldylzhou: it’s kind of crazy that after one year that’s the only event together they had. do yall think they will be called for more projects in the future? #JunDylanXStormChaser

proddylan1998: i was at the venue today and guys, our boy dylan is ReALLY in love. there’s no turning back now i fear #JunDylanXStormChaser

junniestlove: they were wearing matching clothes someone KILL ME NOW theyre adorable #JunDylanXStormChaser

jundylanlovelies: thread of HD pictures and videos for today’s event!!!!!! #JunDylanXStormChaser

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“the reception you two had was great.” kai said with a relieved smile. “it was a shot in the dark, to be honest. things could go amazing or so awful i would have to resign.” 

“don’t be dramatic, p’kai.” jun laughed next to him, wearing his hoodie after all the makeup and jewelry was off. “you can trust us a little more.” 

“i trust dylan, i just don’t trust you.” 

“thank you, p’kai.” dylan patted his shoulder with a firm nod, earning a betrayed gasp from jun. 

“hey–” 

“well, i guess you’re going back together?” he interrupted jun before the actor could complain. dylan tried to not laugh too much and hummed a yes to the question. “then i will wrap it up here, and if you’re both up to it, i think more brands will want to book something with you two.” 

jun smiled, excited with the idea of more events. that was not dylan’s forte, but if it kept his boyfriend happy like this, well, what more could he do if not indulge him? 

kai thanked them again for today and left to answer a call. 

they rushed to finish organizing everything and be finally free officially from that day’s schedule. jun held his hand the whole way until they reached the parking lot. sometimes a few fans that were still around the venue recorded and waved at them and jun waved back with a charismatic smile. dylan tried to match the enthusiasm, but probably failed more than he wanted. 

after a few minutes of walking, jun’s car was only a couple of steps away from them, when jun stopped and pulled him into a hug. the suddenness of it all startled dylan. he felt the actor bury his face in the crook of his neck and sigh, not tiredly or sad, just a content little sigh that resonated in his chest. it didn’t take long for dylan’s hands to find its place on his waist and wrap themselves there, basking in his natural warmth as if the whole world around them was freezing cold. 

“thank you.” jun whispered, so soft that if they weren’t so close it would probably be carried away by the breeze. “for being here today. with me. it meant a lot.” 

“i love you.” dylan whispered back, smiling. those words were trapped for so long inside his chest that he felt like even saying it everyday was not enough. 

“i love you too.” 

jun’s hand slid from his waist and cupped his cheek, leaning in to place a kiss on his lips. dylan smiled in the kiss, everything in him melting. how long has he dreamed of moments like this? three years ago, happiness seemed a distant thing even to his own imagination. 

and now— oh, now he had everything he ever dreamed of in his arms. 

the end.