Right Through Me - 2/? (Like Money AU Side Story)
Title: Right Through Me (2/?)
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): SuKai
Summary: There's nothing Jongin hates more.
A/N: okay i know it's short but i just wanted to post sOMETHING up to make myself feel better about being on non-hiatus bc i hATE the feeling of being so non-hiatus-y bc i refuse to call it a hiatus and i just wanted to post okay OKAY T.T but it's safe to say that i won't be posting anything else for another like. month. and on pain of sounding annoying and whiny, i'd really appreciate it if ppl didn't tell me to come out of my non-hiatus soon for apartment and all that bc it's not jUST that story that's on hiatus okay it's just me and school and it's not like i don't want to stay home and write forever bc i DO but obv i can't anf dskjafea it's 2AM and i have a cold bc of not sleeping for school okfdsae i need to stop talking now okay BYE AND SEE YOU GUYS WHENEVER I SEE YOU ;^;
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3
Junmyeon blinks, looking back and forth from Minseok and Kyungsoo’s faces. The singer wonders if maybe he’d just had a little too much bingsoo with Kris-or maybe heatstroke from when they’d had to walk from the suit shop to the café (it’s been a cloudy day, but a hot one and the mask was sweltering over Junmyeon’s face). “What?” he says, turning to his manager-Kyungsoo merely blinks back.
“What?” Kyungsoo asks, seemingly confused over the fact that Junmyeon seems confused.
Minseok coughs a little and puts his hand on the array of photos and outlines in front of them on the conference table. “It’s a spring repackaged, right? So, your stylists recommended this kind of feel for the outfits and we already recorded those couple of songs-and they sound pretty summery too. And since it’s been a while since you’ve had a happy song-”
“It’s not happy song,” Junmyeon says quickly.
“I mean-not the lyrics,” Minseok admits with a half-shrug. “But the song is. It sounds happy-or at least happier than your last comeback. It’s spring and all, so the company thought it’d be good if you did the performances with a mic stand and all and danced a bit with your back-up dancers.”
Junmyeon turns to Kyungsoo helplessly, but Kyungsoo merely blinks wide eyes back. “Okay,” Junmyeon says, “I get that-but why-”
“You’re still living with Jongin-shii, aren’t you?” Kyungsoo says, raising his eyebrows. “I even made the request because I thought it’d be easier for you guys to rehearse on your own time-so you don’t even have to come all the way to the company since it’s kind of a long drive.”
Junmyeon feels his heart drop into his stomach. “Oh,” he says faintly, “thanks.”
There’s a small pause while Minseok makes to put the contents back into the folder before another thought pops into Junmyeon’s head. “But-wait,” Junmyeon says, “isn’t Jonginie supposed to be busy training one of our new groups-”
“They got another choreographer,” Minseok says, patting Junmyeon’s back, “that way Jongin can choreograph for your back-up dancers, teach you, and be the back-up lead for your lives.”
“I requested that, too,” Kyungsoo pipes up brightly from beside Junmyeon.
“Thanks, Kyungsoo-ah,” Junmyeon sighs.
Jongin bows, both hands outstretched when he takes the rough copy of Junmyeon’s soon-to-be new album from Kim Minseok (a name Jongin had, until now, only heard around the company office and never associated with a face because Minseok was Suho’s specialized producer-never used for the idol groups). “I don’t have a copy with just the one song,” Minseok says with an apologetic smile, “but the one you’re choreographing for is the second one-right after the intro.”
“Okay,” Jongin says, looking at the plain, clear plastic CD cover in his hand. “Will do.”
“Feel free to give the rest of it a listen-on second thought,” the producer grins, “Junmyeonie’s probably already let you hear it, huh?”
Jongin blinks, taken aback. He looks down for a moment. “I-no,” he says quietly, one corner of his full lips tugging upward humorlessly. “Not really.”
Minseok raises his eyebrows. “Oh-okay-then, yeah-go on and give it a listen if you have time.” He grins again. “He’s amazing.”
The choreographer glances at the CD again, glinting light from the building’s fluorescent hall lights. “Yeah,” Jongin says, “he is.”
When Junmyeon comes home that night-later than expected because of technical problems at the site of the photoshoot he’d had after the album consultation-Jongin is already asleep. Junmyeon knows that Minseok had told Jongin the news once Junmyeon and Kyungsoo had gone for the singer’s next schedule. He and the dancer barely talked more than was necessary, and they were normally both gone at different times of the day anyway.
Junmyeon doesn’t expect to hear anything about this from Jongin’s own lips. If anything, he feels like Jongin will probably just be angrier at this turn of events. The singer knows that dancing and choreographing is Jongin’s real escape (the healthier escape-the one that doesn’t leave Junmyeon bruised and bleeding every other night), but now Junmyeon will have no choice but to infiltrate those too for the next few months.
The singer shuffles into the bedroom, carefully making his way through the darkness. He sits on the bed and watches the even rise and fall of Jongin’s blanketed form. Jongin is sleeping facing the opposite direction, shoulders hunched slightly and strands of hair falling against the shell of his ear. Junmyeon’s hand slowly stretches out, reaching to brush them back.
He stops himself when his fingers hover moments above Jongin’s head-puts his hand down and fists the sheets, closing his eyes and reminding himself that even though they live together, even though they sleep in the same bed, even though they’ll be working together now, none of it means anything.
Not to Jongin at least.
The following week, Junmyeon sees even less of Jongin than usual-the dancer comes home later than Junmyeon, far beyond the time Junmyeon has gone to bed. It’s a week fairly similar to the weeks right before an idol group from their company comes back and Jongin is busy with all-night last-minute rehearsals (a week where Junmyeon’s bruises and cuts are allowed to heal completely without being reopened or added on to because Jongin is so busy). It’s a relatively laid-back week for Suho, since all Junmyeon has are fittings for stage outfits and minor preparations for his hair.
Zitao goes with him and Kyungsoo to the hair salon for touch-ups, and Baekhyun accompanies him to a few of the fittings with a reminder to Kyungsoo that Junmyeon’s schedule on Friday includes attending the premier of Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s new movie. “So buy a hot suit,” Baekhyun says, as Junmyeon emerges from changing back to his clothes after being fitted. “I heard Kris-hyung already did.”
Junmyeon raises his eyebrows. “Who’d you hear from?”
“Zitao,” Baekhyun says, as Kyungsoo comes back from scheduling one last fitting for next week.
“When?” the manager snorts.
Baekhyun grins. “Zitao went with me and Chanyeolie for dinner the day he went with Kris-hyung for the fitting.” He slings an arm around Kyungsoo’s neck, and Kyungsoo’s arm fits easily around the actor’s waist.
“Wow,” Kyungsoo whistles teasingly, “Kris Wu never gets a break, huh? Even his friends have to gossip about him.”
“More like even his friends are his fangirls,” Junmyeon smiles, checking his hair in the mirror (because there’s already a crowd trying to press themselves against the window of the shop) and slipping on his hat and sunglasses. “Sometimes I think Jongdae is the president of the club, even if he’s the one who makes Kris-hyung cry the most.”
Kyungsoo laughs. “Yeah-Jongdae-hyung’s an ass to him, but-man-if it wasn’t like-incest-and if it wasn’t for Minseok-hyung, they’d probably be together.”
“That’s weird to think about, though,” Baekhyun wrinkles his nose. “It’s kind of-not right. I guess-yeah-it’s like incest-they fight like my parents though.”
“Minseok-hyung and Jongdae have sex like your parents though,” Junmyeon says, earning well-deserved slaps to the shoulder from an incredulously laughing Baekhyun.
“Hyung,” the actor says, mortified.
Junmyeon shrugs, grinning. “You brought it up first,” he points playfully into Baekhyun’s face. “Be happy you don’t have to walk into the recording studio and see Minseok-hyung with no pants and Jongdae with no anything.”
“They do it at the company?” Baekhyun’s eyes bulge.
“Second witness right here,” Kyungsoo says, raising his hand in the air.
“Don’t tell them we told you, though, okay?” Junmyeon says with a final tug of his cap, pulling it lower over his face. “No one likes having Kim Jongdae chasing after their ass with a butter knife.”
Kris calls Junmyeon out for afternoon coffee the next day.
The first twenty minute pass by with the actor expressing a plethora of complaints about Luhan, the script reading process, Luhan, the director’s lack of facial expressions (thus, Kris doesn’t know how to tell if the director is happy or not with Kris’s reading), Luhan, and Luhan.
“You like him, huh?” Junmyeon smiles around the straw of his iced coffee.
Kris shrugs. “He’s hot. He was a lot hotter before he opened his mouth though.”
“He seems funny,” Junmyeon raises his eyebrows.
“He’s annoying as fuck,” Kris says and shoots Junmyeon a look that sits somewhere between suspicious and incredulous. The actor takes out his phone and frowns at it before setting it beside his own coffee on the table. “Give me Kyungsoo,” the older man mutters. “I don’t want Kim Jongdae anymore.”
Junmyeon laughs and takes Kris’s phone, glancing at the newly opened text message. “There’s a surprise in store waiting for you Friday night,” he reads, “as the sun sets, you will find yourself in need of supporting a close friend’s finished endeavors.” Junmyeon pauses. “Winky face,” he adds, and then puts the phone back on the table, sliding it to its owner.
“That’s my schedule for this Friday,” Kris says flatly, “written in fortune cookie.”
The singer spurts iced coffee out like a garden hose and Kris swears loudly. A waitress appears quickly at the flapping of Kris’s frantic hand and hands them an entire stack of napkins. Junmyeon coughs, slapping his own chest as Kris wipes the sticky, liquid from the table. “You got coffee on my phone,” Kris’s voice rises in outrage.
“Since when was fortune cookie a language?” Junmyeon asks, once he’s cleared his throat.
“Since Kim Jongdae got bored and decided to make it one,” Kris snaps. “Admittedly-it’s better than when he sent me my schedule in Italian.”
“Jongdae speaks Italian?”
“Google translate,” Kris says shortly.
Junmyeon laughs again. “If you want, I can decipher your fortune for you-since Kyungsoo just gave me the same schedule yesterday.”
Kris’s eyebrows shoot up. “We have the same schedule?”
“On occasion,” Junmyeon flashes Kris a smile. “I’m pretty sure Jongdae’s talking about Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s premier.”
The actor stares for a moment before his eyes light up with recollection. “Fuck,” he says, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “I forgot.”
Junmyeon blinks and stares because Kris doesn’t just forget-Kris Wu doesn’t just forget about Park Chanyeol. It’s not exactly the kind of thing that happens, or that Junmyeon at least ever thought would happen. Not without something huge and significant obstructing. “You didn’t catch that live interview he did?”
Kris’s stare blanks out again for a moment before he shakes his head sheepishly (when is Kris Wu ever sheepish?). “I’ve been getting back late,” he says, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Y’know how I told you the director said he wanted me and Luhan to spend time together before the filming.”
Junmyeon raises his eyebrows.
“And,” Kris adds hurriedly, busying himself with his coffee, “script reading runs really late because we’re on a tight schedule-yeah.”
The singer just smiles.
Jongin sits on the floor of the dance studio, facing the mirror, palms down against the floor as he leans back on his arms. He’s only lightly sweating because even if he’s been choreographing for a few hours straight now, the moves are hardly rigorous and he’s nearly done-everything flowed easily from his mind and the ideas fell in place right away.
The song plays, continuously on repeat even though Jongin is more or less done-even though Jongin is taking a break.
He tells himself that Minseok is the producer-so Minseok was most likely the songwriter too. Minseok was the lyricist. It was most likely, very definitely, Minseok.
So these lyrics mean nothing to Jongin.
(even if Junmyeon had written them, it would still mean nothing)
He’s walking around in aimless circles, pacing across the room with light steps that vaguely indicate that there’s more likely than not a beat going through his head and in his mind’s eye there’s more likely than not a dance being formed. It’s what Junmyeon finds when he walks into the studio, and he stands there for a few moments, unsure of what to do because he doesn’t want to interrupt Jongin-but neither is he sure that Jongin wants him to continue watching something so intimate (for Jongin, dancing and creating is intimate).
Junmyeon ends up coughing quietly because it doesn’t feel right to just stand without Jongin knowing he’s there, watching. He waits as Jongin stops and turns, blinking in Junmyeon’s direction for several long moments that stretch on in silence. “Hey,” Jongin says quietly, breathing the syllable almost under his breath. The dancer’s expression is indifferent, verging on blank, as he stands and waits for Junmyeon to cross the floor.
“Really sorry about this,” Junmyeon blurts quickly as Jongin gestures for the singer to start stretching-standard trainee stretches that Junmyeon hadn’t done for at least three comebacks since that was how long it’s been since he’s last had a song that wasn’t a complete ballad. “Kyungsoo won’t listen and just thinks it’d be more convenient, and I know Minseok-hyung-”
Jongin shrugs and doesn’t meet Junmyeon’s eyes, and that sets the atmosphere of the room dropping to a temperature that causes Junmyeon’s sentence to falter and trail off abruptly. Junmyeon falls silent as Jongin does a few quick stretches of his own before stepping forward to stand slightly beside, and slightly in front of, the singer.
“I’m going to dance the whole thing for you once,” Jongin says, twirling the remote for the sound system in one hand. He faces the mirror, staring at Junmyeon’s eyes through the reflection. The dancer’s gaze is carefully collected-colorless. “And then I’ll show you the parts you have to learn, and the parts where you’ll just be singing so you can do whatever you want during those.”
The music starts up.
Junmyeon watches.
The instruction passes robotically, mechanically, and straightforwardly. It’s over in less than an hour, and Jongin ends it with vague words on how they’ll meet back here in two days once Jongin’s figured out how to teach Junmyeon the parts that the singer needs to learn. That, coupled with the fact that Jongin is still actually in charge of late night practices supervising some of the newer trainees of the company, and Junmyeon gets the unspoken message loud and clear that Jongin wouldn’t be home until Junmyeon is fast asleep.
Not that they’d be going home together, even if that wasn’t the case. They live separate lives, after all, except when necessity forced otherwise.
Jongin leaves the studio immediately-most likely to get a drink and a bite to eat before he has to be back for when the trainees arrive from school. Junmyeon tells himself that that’s the only reason-that it has nothing to do with wanting to get away from being in the same vicinity as the singer for all reasons awkward and tense and uncomfortable and pitiful (pitiful on whose part-pathetic on whose part-Junmyeon isn’t too sure, but he has an inkling the arrows are closer to himself).
Junmyeon takes his time pacing around the dance studio, looking around at the posters of the company’s ex-artists and current artists. He stops for a few solid minutes to fiddle with the sound system (making sure everything is on low volume before he presses any buttons so nothing blasts out), and notes with a curious sound under his breath that the company must’ve started investing in new systems for all the rooms-much nicer than when he’d been teaching and training here.
He knows that Jongin probably won’t be back for a while-eating dinner, maybe checking on the progress of the trainees or practicing idols that’ve already arrived for nightly rehearsal and training. This is Junmyeon’s last schedule for the day, and even though he knows he should be heading back to the apartment and getting the sleep he needs for the early schedule tomorrow, he ends up walking around and around again.
He ends up getting caught at the mirrors.
The singer stares at this reflection. He practices for expression and formation’s sake in front of mirrors in the dance studios of the company, but it’s not an absolute thing for a ballad singer. Not the way it is for a dancer, and Junmyeon can’t help but wonder what it’s like to constantly be looking at yourself-scrutinizing for any imperfections while continuously on the move, continuously making sure your body flows and stops during just the right second.
It shouldn’t be too much of a problem for Jongin, though-if a problem at all. Junmyeon feels his lips tug into the tiniest of smiles at the thought. Jongin’s dance is immaculate-impeccable-and it must be even less of a problem to constantly scrutinize yourself in the mirror if you were as good-looking as Kim Jongin. There’s never a female trainee in the company under Jongin’s tutelage who hasn’t been caught gazing at the choreographer with stars in her eyes (as Kris often grudgingly admits, as the self-proclaimed previous female-and-occasionally-male-trainee-heartbreaking-sunbae of the company).
Junmyeon tugs at the collar of his t-shirt, sighing as his eyes catch something on his reflection. He presses gingerly around the bluish area and purses his lips when his fingers come back without a trace of the foundation he knew he’d painted on before he left home this morning. It must’ve worn off with all the fittings he’d done one more time because Kyungsoo had insisted on making sure everything fit properly and wouldn’t bother Junmyeon while he moved on stage.
He commences pulling and adjusting his shirt, intending to do so until he found a way to arrange the cloth so that it just so covered the bruise. He only needed to make it down the elevator and into the parking garage without his shirt slipping and someone seeing. Junmyeon tilts his head, somewhat satisfied with the positioning of the shirt and-he hopes-oh, it’d better-the cloth finally seems to stay in place.
There are voices-he hears voices-as he turns.
Jongin’s voice and then Jongin walks in-the unfamiliar sound of Jongin laughing, the unfamiliar sight of Jongin smiling and grinning, and there’re three trainees surrounding him. Two girls and a boy, most likely in their first year of high school, and their expressions are entertained-excited-admiring-amused, as Jongin animatedly chats to them about an episode he’d had during a choreography session perhaps a few weeks back.
Junmyeon doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen Jongin laugh.
(but that’s not true, is it? Junmyeon just doesn’t remember the last time he’s had Jongin’s laugh-Jongin’s smile-directed at himself)
Jongin meets his gaze-the trainees meet his gaze-and it’s only a split second before their eyes light up in recognition and they immediately all bow, greeting him nervously and Junmyeon steps towards them, waving the formalities off as best he can-smiling at them, because he remembers the feeling of seeing a sunbae in a practice room.
(he tries not to think about how Jongin’s laughter-grin-smile-dropped away from the dancer’s face the moment he caught sight of Junmyeon)
(because that’s not anything new, after all)
“I heard you’re doing choreo for him?” Yeonseo asks, once Junmyeon has scurried out of the studio, bag and sweatshirt in hand.
Jongin busies himself with the sound system, looking for the song that Yeonseo and the others are supposed to practice their new routine to. “Yeah,” he answers shortly.
“Do you know him?” Sangbae blinks, clearly interested-more interested than Yeonseo and Janghee seem, which Jongin pegs as considerably strange since Yeonseo and Janghee are already a bit more than obviously star struck (cheeks red as apples when Junmyeon greeted them back). “Like, personally, I mean,” the boy clarifies.
“No,” Jongin answers immediately. “I don’t.”
As it turns out, Sangbae, Yeonseo, and Janghee have learned their routine well enough that all Jongin had left to do was fine-tune their synchronization and bring them up to size on sharpness. The actual practice ended early but none of them wanted to get back to the homework Jongin knew they all probably had so he let them whine and oppa-hyung-oppa him into bringing them out for a late supper. It was simple takeout on the floors of the practice room-a must-have trainee tradition-and Jongin was happy to sit and listen to the three of them complain about school, about love, about their aching bodies in the mornings, and about the seemingly never-ending road to debut.
It’s well past two in the morning when Jongin finally gets back to the apartment, finally finishes showering, washing away the feel of perspiration and all the adrenaline that came with late night practice. Most all the lights are either off or dimmed and Jongin knows that Junmyeon is probably asleep-it’s rare that Junmyeon ever has a late schedule that goes later than Jongin’s late schedules. If Junmyeon returns after Jongin, it’s only because Jongin either has a day off or an early schedule.
The exception is when Junmyeon has music video shoots-as those go for forty-eight hours straight at a time.
In all truthfulness, Jongin prefers late schedules-prefers being exhausted to the point where all he can handle is to collapse into bed and fall into a (mercifully) dreamless, deep sleep. He’d rather not have schedules that end mid-afternoon, days where he has nothing else to do but go home because he can’t just constantly hog the practice rooms when there are choreographers and trainees and idols who need to use them-days where he’s there, at the apartment, because he’s made it a habit that the closest he’ll get to other people is a work relationship (like with the trainees-the people at the company-collaborating choreographers) with nothing else to do and no one else to talk to.
That’s when the memories swarm him and the anguish takes over him and the grief engulfs him and the anger (the unfairness) chokes him, and Junmyeon always manages to come home just in time to catch Jongin at the peak of everything dark and bitter and furious and everything that always happens afterwards is everything that Jongin hates but does anyway and he’s not even sure it’s him half of the time but he forces himself to care-he doesn’t care-because Junmyeon knew what he was getting into and Jongin is-
Only because-
Junmyeon lies with the blankets up to his chin, on his side, and facing away from the door. Jongin flicks off the last of the lights and sits on the edge of the bed. It’s the strangest arrangement they have-made even stranger that they sleep in the same bed and-unless it’s one of those nights-they never touch. Not by accident, not by a turn either of the makes in the midst of unconsciousness, no reaching hands, no wandering feet, no bumping legs. They never touch and Jongin is glad. He likes it pitch black whenever he gets into bed beside Junmyeon. The darker it is, the less he sees of the other man-the less chance he has of seeing Junmyeon’s face-of seeing Junmyeon at all.
Once the next few months are over, once Jongin is done working for Junmyeon, the dancer will make sure that he makes it clear to the higher-up that he’d rather spend his talents elsewhere-on the trainees, the idols, other solo artists-anywhere and anyone but Junmyeon. Then he and the other man can go back to being strangers (who live together, who’ve known each other since they were too young to remember, who-) and everything will be as it should.
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): SuKai
Summary: There's nothing Jongin hates more.
A/N: okay i know it's short but i just wanted to post sOMETHING up to make myself feel better about being on non-hiatus bc i hATE the feeling of being so non-hiatus-y bc i refuse to call it a hiatus and i just wanted to post okay OKAY T.T but it's safe to say that i won't be posting anything else for another like. month. and on pain of sounding annoying and whiny, i'd really appreciate it if ppl didn't tell me to come out of my non-hiatus soon for apartment and all that bc it's not jUST that story that's on hiatus okay it's just me and school and it's not like i don't want to stay home and write forever bc i DO but obv i can't anf dskjafea it's 2AM and i have a cold bc of not sleeping for school okfdsae i need to stop talking now okay BYE AND SEE YOU GUYS WHENEVER I SEE YOU ;^;
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3
Junmyeon blinks, looking back and forth from Minseok and Kyungsoo’s faces. The singer wonders if maybe he’d just had a little too much bingsoo with Kris-or maybe heatstroke from when they’d had to walk from the suit shop to the café (it’s been a cloudy day, but a hot one and the mask was sweltering over Junmyeon’s face). “What?” he says, turning to his manager-Kyungsoo merely blinks back.
“What?” Kyungsoo asks, seemingly confused over the fact that Junmyeon seems confused.
Minseok coughs a little and puts his hand on the array of photos and outlines in front of them on the conference table. “It’s a spring repackaged, right? So, your stylists recommended this kind of feel for the outfits and we already recorded those couple of songs-and they sound pretty summery too. And since it’s been a while since you’ve had a happy song-”
“It’s not happy song,” Junmyeon says quickly.
“I mean-not the lyrics,” Minseok admits with a half-shrug. “But the song is. It sounds happy-or at least happier than your last comeback. It’s spring and all, so the company thought it’d be good if you did the performances with a mic stand and all and danced a bit with your back-up dancers.”
Junmyeon turns to Kyungsoo helplessly, but Kyungsoo merely blinks wide eyes back. “Okay,” Junmyeon says, “I get that-but why-”
“You’re still living with Jongin-shii, aren’t you?” Kyungsoo says, raising his eyebrows. “I even made the request because I thought it’d be easier for you guys to rehearse on your own time-so you don’t even have to come all the way to the company since it’s kind of a long drive.”
Junmyeon feels his heart drop into his stomach. “Oh,” he says faintly, “thanks.”
There’s a small pause while Minseok makes to put the contents back into the folder before another thought pops into Junmyeon’s head. “But-wait,” Junmyeon says, “isn’t Jonginie supposed to be busy training one of our new groups-”
“They got another choreographer,” Minseok says, patting Junmyeon’s back, “that way Jongin can choreograph for your back-up dancers, teach you, and be the back-up lead for your lives.”
“I requested that, too,” Kyungsoo pipes up brightly from beside Junmyeon.
“Thanks, Kyungsoo-ah,” Junmyeon sighs.
Jongin bows, both hands outstretched when he takes the rough copy of Junmyeon’s soon-to-be new album from Kim Minseok (a name Jongin had, until now, only heard around the company office and never associated with a face because Minseok was Suho’s specialized producer-never used for the idol groups). “I don’t have a copy with just the one song,” Minseok says with an apologetic smile, “but the one you’re choreographing for is the second one-right after the intro.”
“Okay,” Jongin says, looking at the plain, clear plastic CD cover in his hand. “Will do.”
“Feel free to give the rest of it a listen-on second thought,” the producer grins, “Junmyeonie’s probably already let you hear it, huh?”
Jongin blinks, taken aback. He looks down for a moment. “I-no,” he says quietly, one corner of his full lips tugging upward humorlessly. “Not really.”
Minseok raises his eyebrows. “Oh-okay-then, yeah-go on and give it a listen if you have time.” He grins again. “He’s amazing.”
The choreographer glances at the CD again, glinting light from the building’s fluorescent hall lights. “Yeah,” Jongin says, “he is.”
When Junmyeon comes home that night-later than expected because of technical problems at the site of the photoshoot he’d had after the album consultation-Jongin is already asleep. Junmyeon knows that Minseok had told Jongin the news once Junmyeon and Kyungsoo had gone for the singer’s next schedule. He and the dancer barely talked more than was necessary, and they were normally both gone at different times of the day anyway.
Junmyeon doesn’t expect to hear anything about this from Jongin’s own lips. If anything, he feels like Jongin will probably just be angrier at this turn of events. The singer knows that dancing and choreographing is Jongin’s real escape (the healthier escape-the one that doesn’t leave Junmyeon bruised and bleeding every other night), but now Junmyeon will have no choice but to infiltrate those too for the next few months.
The singer shuffles into the bedroom, carefully making his way through the darkness. He sits on the bed and watches the even rise and fall of Jongin’s blanketed form. Jongin is sleeping facing the opposite direction, shoulders hunched slightly and strands of hair falling against the shell of his ear. Junmyeon’s hand slowly stretches out, reaching to brush them back.
He stops himself when his fingers hover moments above Jongin’s head-puts his hand down and fists the sheets, closing his eyes and reminding himself that even though they live together, even though they sleep in the same bed, even though they’ll be working together now, none of it means anything.
Not to Jongin at least.
The following week, Junmyeon sees even less of Jongin than usual-the dancer comes home later than Junmyeon, far beyond the time Junmyeon has gone to bed. It’s a week fairly similar to the weeks right before an idol group from their company comes back and Jongin is busy with all-night last-minute rehearsals (a week where Junmyeon’s bruises and cuts are allowed to heal completely without being reopened or added on to because Jongin is so busy). It’s a relatively laid-back week for Suho, since all Junmyeon has are fittings for stage outfits and minor preparations for his hair.
Zitao goes with him and Kyungsoo to the hair salon for touch-ups, and Baekhyun accompanies him to a few of the fittings with a reminder to Kyungsoo that Junmyeon’s schedule on Friday includes attending the premier of Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s new movie. “So buy a hot suit,” Baekhyun says, as Junmyeon emerges from changing back to his clothes after being fitted. “I heard Kris-hyung already did.”
Junmyeon raises his eyebrows. “Who’d you hear from?”
“Zitao,” Baekhyun says, as Kyungsoo comes back from scheduling one last fitting for next week.
“When?” the manager snorts.
Baekhyun grins. “Zitao went with me and Chanyeolie for dinner the day he went with Kris-hyung for the fitting.” He slings an arm around Kyungsoo’s neck, and Kyungsoo’s arm fits easily around the actor’s waist.
“Wow,” Kyungsoo whistles teasingly, “Kris Wu never gets a break, huh? Even his friends have to gossip about him.”
“More like even his friends are his fangirls,” Junmyeon smiles, checking his hair in the mirror (because there’s already a crowd trying to press themselves against the window of the shop) and slipping on his hat and sunglasses. “Sometimes I think Jongdae is the president of the club, even if he’s the one who makes Kris-hyung cry the most.”
Kyungsoo laughs. “Yeah-Jongdae-hyung’s an ass to him, but-man-if it wasn’t like-incest-and if it wasn’t for Minseok-hyung, they’d probably be together.”
“That’s weird to think about, though,” Baekhyun wrinkles his nose. “It’s kind of-not right. I guess-yeah-it’s like incest-they fight like my parents though.”
“Minseok-hyung and Jongdae have sex like your parents though,” Junmyeon says, earning well-deserved slaps to the shoulder from an incredulously laughing Baekhyun.
“Hyung,” the actor says, mortified.
Junmyeon shrugs, grinning. “You brought it up first,” he points playfully into Baekhyun’s face. “Be happy you don’t have to walk into the recording studio and see Minseok-hyung with no pants and Jongdae with no anything.”
“They do it at the company?” Baekhyun’s eyes bulge.
“Second witness right here,” Kyungsoo says, raising his hand in the air.
“Don’t tell them we told you, though, okay?” Junmyeon says with a final tug of his cap, pulling it lower over his face. “No one likes having Kim Jongdae chasing after their ass with a butter knife.”
Kris calls Junmyeon out for afternoon coffee the next day.
The first twenty minute pass by with the actor expressing a plethora of complaints about Luhan, the script reading process, Luhan, the director’s lack of facial expressions (thus, Kris doesn’t know how to tell if the director is happy or not with Kris’s reading), Luhan, and Luhan.
“You like him, huh?” Junmyeon smiles around the straw of his iced coffee.
Kris shrugs. “He’s hot. He was a lot hotter before he opened his mouth though.”
“He seems funny,” Junmyeon raises his eyebrows.
“He’s annoying as fuck,” Kris says and shoots Junmyeon a look that sits somewhere between suspicious and incredulous. The actor takes out his phone and frowns at it before setting it beside his own coffee on the table. “Give me Kyungsoo,” the older man mutters. “I don’t want Kim Jongdae anymore.”
Junmyeon laughs and takes Kris’s phone, glancing at the newly opened text message. “There’s a surprise in store waiting for you Friday night,” he reads, “as the sun sets, you will find yourself in need of supporting a close friend’s finished endeavors.” Junmyeon pauses. “Winky face,” he adds, and then puts the phone back on the table, sliding it to its owner.
“That’s my schedule for this Friday,” Kris says flatly, “written in fortune cookie.”
The singer spurts iced coffee out like a garden hose and Kris swears loudly. A waitress appears quickly at the flapping of Kris’s frantic hand and hands them an entire stack of napkins. Junmyeon coughs, slapping his own chest as Kris wipes the sticky, liquid from the table. “You got coffee on my phone,” Kris’s voice rises in outrage.
“Since when was fortune cookie a language?” Junmyeon asks, once he’s cleared his throat.
“Since Kim Jongdae got bored and decided to make it one,” Kris snaps. “Admittedly-it’s better than when he sent me my schedule in Italian.”
“Jongdae speaks Italian?”
“Google translate,” Kris says shortly.
Junmyeon laughs again. “If you want, I can decipher your fortune for you-since Kyungsoo just gave me the same schedule yesterday.”
Kris’s eyebrows shoot up. “We have the same schedule?”
“On occasion,” Junmyeon flashes Kris a smile. “I’m pretty sure Jongdae’s talking about Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s premier.”
The actor stares for a moment before his eyes light up with recollection. “Fuck,” he says, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “I forgot.”
Junmyeon blinks and stares because Kris doesn’t just forget-Kris Wu doesn’t just forget about Park Chanyeol. It’s not exactly the kind of thing that happens, or that Junmyeon at least ever thought would happen. Not without something huge and significant obstructing. “You didn’t catch that live interview he did?”
Kris’s stare blanks out again for a moment before he shakes his head sheepishly (when is Kris Wu ever sheepish?). “I’ve been getting back late,” he says, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Y’know how I told you the director said he wanted me and Luhan to spend time together before the filming.”
Junmyeon raises his eyebrows.
“And,” Kris adds hurriedly, busying himself with his coffee, “script reading runs really late because we’re on a tight schedule-yeah.”
The singer just smiles.
Jongin sits on the floor of the dance studio, facing the mirror, palms down against the floor as he leans back on his arms. He’s only lightly sweating because even if he’s been choreographing for a few hours straight now, the moves are hardly rigorous and he’s nearly done-everything flowed easily from his mind and the ideas fell in place right away.
The song plays, continuously on repeat even though Jongin is more or less done-even though Jongin is taking a break.
He tells himself that Minseok is the producer-so Minseok was most likely the songwriter too. Minseok was the lyricist. It was most likely, very definitely, Minseok.
So these lyrics mean nothing to Jongin.
(even if Junmyeon had written them, it would still mean nothing)
He’s walking around in aimless circles, pacing across the room with light steps that vaguely indicate that there’s more likely than not a beat going through his head and in his mind’s eye there’s more likely than not a dance being formed. It’s what Junmyeon finds when he walks into the studio, and he stands there for a few moments, unsure of what to do because he doesn’t want to interrupt Jongin-but neither is he sure that Jongin wants him to continue watching something so intimate (for Jongin, dancing and creating is intimate).
Junmyeon ends up coughing quietly because it doesn’t feel right to just stand without Jongin knowing he’s there, watching. He waits as Jongin stops and turns, blinking in Junmyeon’s direction for several long moments that stretch on in silence. “Hey,” Jongin says quietly, breathing the syllable almost under his breath. The dancer’s expression is indifferent, verging on blank, as he stands and waits for Junmyeon to cross the floor.
“Really sorry about this,” Junmyeon blurts quickly as Jongin gestures for the singer to start stretching-standard trainee stretches that Junmyeon hadn’t done for at least three comebacks since that was how long it’s been since he’s last had a song that wasn’t a complete ballad. “Kyungsoo won’t listen and just thinks it’d be more convenient, and I know Minseok-hyung-”
Jongin shrugs and doesn’t meet Junmyeon’s eyes, and that sets the atmosphere of the room dropping to a temperature that causes Junmyeon’s sentence to falter and trail off abruptly. Junmyeon falls silent as Jongin does a few quick stretches of his own before stepping forward to stand slightly beside, and slightly in front of, the singer.
“I’m going to dance the whole thing for you once,” Jongin says, twirling the remote for the sound system in one hand. He faces the mirror, staring at Junmyeon’s eyes through the reflection. The dancer’s gaze is carefully collected-colorless. “And then I’ll show you the parts you have to learn, and the parts where you’ll just be singing so you can do whatever you want during those.”
The music starts up.
Junmyeon watches.
The instruction passes robotically, mechanically, and straightforwardly. It’s over in less than an hour, and Jongin ends it with vague words on how they’ll meet back here in two days once Jongin’s figured out how to teach Junmyeon the parts that the singer needs to learn. That, coupled with the fact that Jongin is still actually in charge of late night practices supervising some of the newer trainees of the company, and Junmyeon gets the unspoken message loud and clear that Jongin wouldn’t be home until Junmyeon is fast asleep.
Not that they’d be going home together, even if that wasn’t the case. They live separate lives, after all, except when necessity forced otherwise.
Jongin leaves the studio immediately-most likely to get a drink and a bite to eat before he has to be back for when the trainees arrive from school. Junmyeon tells himself that that’s the only reason-that it has nothing to do with wanting to get away from being in the same vicinity as the singer for all reasons awkward and tense and uncomfortable and pitiful (pitiful on whose part-pathetic on whose part-Junmyeon isn’t too sure, but he has an inkling the arrows are closer to himself).
Junmyeon takes his time pacing around the dance studio, looking around at the posters of the company’s ex-artists and current artists. He stops for a few solid minutes to fiddle with the sound system (making sure everything is on low volume before he presses any buttons so nothing blasts out), and notes with a curious sound under his breath that the company must’ve started investing in new systems for all the rooms-much nicer than when he’d been teaching and training here.
He knows that Jongin probably won’t be back for a while-eating dinner, maybe checking on the progress of the trainees or practicing idols that’ve already arrived for nightly rehearsal and training. This is Junmyeon’s last schedule for the day, and even though he knows he should be heading back to the apartment and getting the sleep he needs for the early schedule tomorrow, he ends up walking around and around again.
He ends up getting caught at the mirrors.
The singer stares at this reflection. He practices for expression and formation’s sake in front of mirrors in the dance studios of the company, but it’s not an absolute thing for a ballad singer. Not the way it is for a dancer, and Junmyeon can’t help but wonder what it’s like to constantly be looking at yourself-scrutinizing for any imperfections while continuously on the move, continuously making sure your body flows and stops during just the right second.
It shouldn’t be too much of a problem for Jongin, though-if a problem at all. Junmyeon feels his lips tug into the tiniest of smiles at the thought. Jongin’s dance is immaculate-impeccable-and it must be even less of a problem to constantly scrutinize yourself in the mirror if you were as good-looking as Kim Jongin. There’s never a female trainee in the company under Jongin’s tutelage who hasn’t been caught gazing at the choreographer with stars in her eyes (as Kris often grudgingly admits, as the self-proclaimed previous female-and-occasionally-male-trainee-heartbreaking-sunbae of the company).
Junmyeon tugs at the collar of his t-shirt, sighing as his eyes catch something on his reflection. He presses gingerly around the bluish area and purses his lips when his fingers come back without a trace of the foundation he knew he’d painted on before he left home this morning. It must’ve worn off with all the fittings he’d done one more time because Kyungsoo had insisted on making sure everything fit properly and wouldn’t bother Junmyeon while he moved on stage.
He commences pulling and adjusting his shirt, intending to do so until he found a way to arrange the cloth so that it just so covered the bruise. He only needed to make it down the elevator and into the parking garage without his shirt slipping and someone seeing. Junmyeon tilts his head, somewhat satisfied with the positioning of the shirt and-he hopes-oh, it’d better-the cloth finally seems to stay in place.
There are voices-he hears voices-as he turns.
Jongin’s voice and then Jongin walks in-the unfamiliar sound of Jongin laughing, the unfamiliar sight of Jongin smiling and grinning, and there’re three trainees surrounding him. Two girls and a boy, most likely in their first year of high school, and their expressions are entertained-excited-admiring-amused, as Jongin animatedly chats to them about an episode he’d had during a choreography session perhaps a few weeks back.
Junmyeon doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen Jongin laugh.
(but that’s not true, is it? Junmyeon just doesn’t remember the last time he’s had Jongin’s laugh-Jongin’s smile-directed at himself)
Jongin meets his gaze-the trainees meet his gaze-and it’s only a split second before their eyes light up in recognition and they immediately all bow, greeting him nervously and Junmyeon steps towards them, waving the formalities off as best he can-smiling at them, because he remembers the feeling of seeing a sunbae in a practice room.
(he tries not to think about how Jongin’s laughter-grin-smile-dropped away from the dancer’s face the moment he caught sight of Junmyeon)
(because that’s not anything new, after all)
“I heard you’re doing choreo for him?” Yeonseo asks, once Junmyeon has scurried out of the studio, bag and sweatshirt in hand.
Jongin busies himself with the sound system, looking for the song that Yeonseo and the others are supposed to practice their new routine to. “Yeah,” he answers shortly.
“Do you know him?” Sangbae blinks, clearly interested-more interested than Yeonseo and Janghee seem, which Jongin pegs as considerably strange since Yeonseo and Janghee are already a bit more than obviously star struck (cheeks red as apples when Junmyeon greeted them back). “Like, personally, I mean,” the boy clarifies.
“No,” Jongin answers immediately. “I don’t.”
As it turns out, Sangbae, Yeonseo, and Janghee have learned their routine well enough that all Jongin had left to do was fine-tune their synchronization and bring them up to size on sharpness. The actual practice ended early but none of them wanted to get back to the homework Jongin knew they all probably had so he let them whine and oppa-hyung-oppa him into bringing them out for a late supper. It was simple takeout on the floors of the practice room-a must-have trainee tradition-and Jongin was happy to sit and listen to the three of them complain about school, about love, about their aching bodies in the mornings, and about the seemingly never-ending road to debut.
It’s well past two in the morning when Jongin finally gets back to the apartment, finally finishes showering, washing away the feel of perspiration and all the adrenaline that came with late night practice. Most all the lights are either off or dimmed and Jongin knows that Junmyeon is probably asleep-it’s rare that Junmyeon ever has a late schedule that goes later than Jongin’s late schedules. If Junmyeon returns after Jongin, it’s only because Jongin either has a day off or an early schedule.
The exception is when Junmyeon has music video shoots-as those go for forty-eight hours straight at a time.
In all truthfulness, Jongin prefers late schedules-prefers being exhausted to the point where all he can handle is to collapse into bed and fall into a (mercifully) dreamless, deep sleep. He’d rather not have schedules that end mid-afternoon, days where he has nothing else to do but go home because he can’t just constantly hog the practice rooms when there are choreographers and trainees and idols who need to use them-days where he’s there, at the apartment, because he’s made it a habit that the closest he’ll get to other people is a work relationship (like with the trainees-the people at the company-collaborating choreographers) with nothing else to do and no one else to talk to.
That’s when the memories swarm him and the anguish takes over him and the grief engulfs him and the anger (the unfairness) chokes him, and Junmyeon always manages to come home just in time to catch Jongin at the peak of everything dark and bitter and furious and everything that always happens afterwards is everything that Jongin hates but does anyway and he’s not even sure it’s him half of the time but he forces himself to care-he doesn’t care-because Junmyeon knew what he was getting into and Jongin is-
Only because-
Junmyeon lies with the blankets up to his chin, on his side, and facing away from the door. Jongin flicks off the last of the lights and sits on the edge of the bed. It’s the strangest arrangement they have-made even stranger that they sleep in the same bed and-unless it’s one of those nights-they never touch. Not by accident, not by a turn either of the makes in the midst of unconsciousness, no reaching hands, no wandering feet, no bumping legs. They never touch and Jongin is glad. He likes it pitch black whenever he gets into bed beside Junmyeon. The darker it is, the less he sees of the other man-the less chance he has of seeing Junmyeon’s face-of seeing Junmyeon at all.
Once the next few months are over, once Jongin is done working for Junmyeon, the dancer will make sure that he makes it clear to the higher-up that he’d rather spend his talents elsewhere-on the trainees, the idols, other solo artists-anywhere and anyone but Junmyeon. Then he and the other man can go back to being strangers (who live together, who’ve known each other since they were too young to remember, who-) and everything will be as it should.