SSS 2014: For preorder (1/2)
For: preorder
From: Your Secret Santa
Title: Just keep moving forward
Pairing: Minho/Key, Jonghyun/Key
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: N/A
Author's Notes: Huge thanks to N for helping me figure out one of the pivotal points of the fic. And as always, to C and F, thank you for the word wars and all the hand-holding. ♥
It isn't much of a secret that Jonghyun strains his vocal chords. Most singers do, at one point or another, even if they try as carefully as possible not to push too hard, but when you've been training with SM for the longest time and you still haven't caught a break, it's difficult not to. There are long nights spent in practice rooms, running through a dance routine that will never be performed in front of people or trying to reach notes he can only dream of. There's Taemin trying to overcome his own voice and Jinki trying hard to cover the cracks in his voice with easy breathing. There's Minho saying sorry to the group for screwing up the routine, apologizing in behalf of his long libs. There's Jonghyun singing a particular part of a song again and again until his voice cracks.
Then Kibum grabs him by the wrist, looks at him in the eye and says, "Stop. You're going to break my eardrums." Later, with their backs against the cool mirror, Kibum says, "It's not in your key. Don't push it."
What does come as a shock, though, is that Jonghyun strains his vocal chords too hard that it fucks up the rest of his system and that he loses his chance to debut.
"I should have fucking listened," Jonghyun says now, legs pulled close to his chest. His voice is muffled but months of practicing alongside each other, breathing heavy and ragged, has taught Kibum this language. "Actually, I did; it was just too late. Now I've lost the chance to go up on stage and fucking sing my heart out and-"
Kibum places a hand on Jonghyun shoulder and rubs tentatively, pausing when Jonghyun freezes, but resuming when Jonghyun props his chin on his arms, eyes fixed on his shoes. "It's not yet the end," Kibum mumbles. He gives Jonghyun's arm a light squeeze.
It might as well be. Jonghyun has been singing since he was five, has been dreaming of being a singer and performing in front of everyone since he was eight. These staple stories only add to the amount of time and effort Jonghyun puts into each run of a song, each note, each sound that slips from his lips when they're asked to sing something. Jonghyun has been singing all his life. Singing is all Jonghyun has known, and now that it's been taken away from him, he knows nothing, not even himself.
"Sure it is," Jonghyun mumbles. He brushes Kibum off as he shrugs his shoulders lightly. Kibum does him a favor and lets his hand fall to his side. "What else would a person like me do?"
"Study? Work odd jobs? Get a part-time job in a music store or something? I don't know, man." And it's true - he doesn't know Jonghyun well enough to map out his life yet. Two years isn't enough to completely expose all of their secrets to each other in between vocal and dance practice and trying to catch a breath in the roofdeck. There's no secret trick to managing work, social life, and someone else's life at the moment. "You play the piano, right? Why don't you try composing?"
Jonghyun laughs a little. Five seconds until Jonghyun gives him a toothy grin, three until it registers to Jonghyun that he's going to laugh and it won't be a sight to behold. "I need to compose myself first."
Jonghyun erupts into a peal of laughter. His muscles relax and he stretches his legs and he throws his head back, beads of tears in the corners of his eyes as he chokes on his own laughter, and Kibum laughs in accord, slapping Jonghyun hard on the arm.
The news officially hits the four corners of the company when Heechul gets wind of it and immediately envelops Jonghyun in a bone-crushing hug.
"It's not the end of the world," Heechul says, voice unusually soft and sweet and maybe even a bit weird; Kibum hasn't heard him like this before, and even if he has he might have been too tired to even register a concern in Heechul's voice. "There's life outside of SM, you know what I'm saying? Hey, I know a few people who can get you into retail. Wanna give that a shot?"
"Thanks for the offer, but I think I don't want to go into the marketing side of things." Jonghyun laughs a little, trying to hide the awkward smile hanging from the corners of his lips as he weasels out of Heechul's one-armed hug. "I still want something music-related."
"SM-related," Heechul and Kibum chime at the same time. Taemin's having a hard time keeping it together.
"Composing sounds good," Jonghyun says, then turns to Kibum with wide eyes and a smile that says, yes, I actually thought about what you said. "I won't have to sing that much anymore but I'll be able to put my… skills to use?"
Heechul nods, contemplative. There's a small smile at the corner of his lips. "And who gave you the idea that you should even give that a shot?"
Jonghyun cocks his head to the left without even looking over his shoulder, hand reaching out instinctively to land on Kibum's wrist. Just a few more inches and he'd be shy of touching something else, but Jonghyun's good with rough estimates and distances - the distance from the dance practice room to the nearest comfort room, the distance between Jinki and Minho and how their being imbalanced in the formation gravely affects the rest of their performance. Kibum's shoulders from his, the distance they have to keep between themselves so that their bags don't bump against each other. Only on certain occasions does Jonghyun ever get his measurements wrong; approximating time is not part of his expertise.
Kibum raises his hand and Jonghyun yelps a little at the jerking motion. It's good to know that some things never change. Heechul turns to him with a toothy grin and says, "You're my new favorite." After a while, "Oops, gotta go!"
"So which composition do you think should I send as an audition?" Jonghyun asks later, on their way back from their break. He uses double quotes to add emphasis, but Kibum only shrugs and moves closer. Their shoulders bump from time to time. Kibum thinks about miscalculations and the uncertainty in Jonghyun's voice, the relief in Jonghyun's eyes when he hears Heechul say, Hey, there's still hope.
"The one you used to sing while we packed up after dance practice," Kibum answers after a while. Jonghyun slows down in his steps, eyebrows furrowed when he turns to Kibum. "Y'know, the one about waking up from a dream and recovering from a break up."
"A.K.A. most of the songs I've composed."
Kibum laughs a little, bumps his shoulder into Jonghyun's. Jonghyun cackles, losing it completely, Jonghyun's song, scratchy and so undeniably pre-debut, rings brightly in Kibum's ears.
The management finds a replacement for Jonghyun - another one of Jonghyun's friends, the one who goes by the name of Kim Joonmyun. His voice isn't anything like Jonghyun's, but he works hard and he has trained long enough, and there's the thirst to prove himself in the way he belts out notes, in the way he tries really, really hard to perfect each and every one of his lines, in the way he goes through the dance routine long after practice is over. It's sort of refreshing, this brand of enthusiasm, and it results to longer practices, shorter break times, bigger smiles at the end of the day. Joonmyun has that sort of effect on people - he pushes them hard, pushes himself harder to see if he can ever be any better.
"The new kid's good," Kibum mumbles. They're out in the rooftop. Jonghyun pleaded thirty minutes ago to meet there and alleviate the fatigue of being holed up the whole day in the music room, but practice ended just ten minutes ago; now, Jonghyun's sneezing. The cold almost always gets to him too fast. "Fine, he's not new and he's not a kid, but he's new new and he's really determined-"
"- Driven."
"Yeah, that, and you just know he's passionate about singing. He's good at making friends, too, but he's not a complete pushover." Jonghyun cackles, but gestures for him to go on. "He managed to convince Minho to treat everyone to takoyaki and tteokbokki. I mean, Minho of all people."
Jonghyun blows a puff of air, then shifts in his position so that they're facing each other. There's a hint of amusement in the way Jonghyun's eyes crinkle at the corners, in the way one side of Jonghyun's lips tugs up, lips protruding a little like he's about to say something but can't quite find the right words. "Minho, of all people," Jonghyun repeats, then nods slowly, thoughtfully, before continuing, "I'd say I have a great successor."
Kibum rolls his eyes. "Don't say that. He's nothing like you."
"But he is?" Jonghyun scratches the back of his head. The upward tug has turned into something more neutral; Jonghyun's lips have a life of their own and sometimes, only sometimes, Kibum wonders how it would be to suck out all of that. If he ever thinks of finishing kissing Jonghyun, he doesn't; instead, he swallows it all, musters a cackle. "He's a good friend of mine. I really won't mind if you suddenly upped and left me and-"
He moves two inches to his right and places his face towel between them. "Jonghyun," he says, an eyebrow raised, lips thinning into a straight line. "Jonghyun-hyung, please stop pulling my leg."
Jonghyun tugs lightly at his wrist, almost helplessly. He manages to say through a mouthful of laughter, "Well I'm pulling your arm now."
Kibum shakes his head, like it can make things better, ease Jonghyun's mind and ease him back into the swing of things. Jonghyun's coughing now, pounding his chest hard, His cheeks are flushed and there are beads of tears at the corners of his eyes. Jonghyun always laughs like it's his last day on Earth.
"They accepted my application, by the way," Jonghyun mentions once he's caught his breath again. "Said I was promising and that I should thank my piano-playing skills because I write crappy lyrics. I told them I write from the heart and they fucking laughed at me." Jonghyun pauses. He sounds more amused than affronted. He's weird, but Kibum has always liked his friends that way. "And then they said, I like him. Kid has more backbone than any of the younger composers. That injury's a blessing in disguise."
"So what now?" Kibum asks. There's a slow-forming smile on Jonghyun's lips. He takes a deep breath.
Jonghyun flashes a v-sign at him, grins wide enough for Kibum to see his canines. They're blinding. "You're looking at the future Yoo Youngjin, mister."
A couple of weeks in, Joonmyun has made a room in their schedules faster than he can nail dance steps properly. "He's that kind of guy," Jinki says, shrugging, then leans back against the mirror. He winces as he makes contact with the cold surface, and Kibum just chuckles. "The kind that's hard to hate. It bothers me sometimes."
"I get that a lot," Joonmyun says, announcing his presence. Kibum chortles and aims for a high-five; Joonmyun's hand finds a fit in his. "It comes with years of practice."
"You've only been here for a year," Minho comments. Taemin elbows him in his side.
"Just like all of you." Joonmyun slips back into his standard smile. "We're not that different."
"Yeah, sure, whatever," comes a familiar voice. Kibum looks over his shoulder with practiced ease and sinks his cheek into the protruding bone when Jonghyun flashes a toothy grin at him. To Joonmyun, Jonghyun says, "They actually love you."
A light bump of the fist and Kibum feels his stomach lurch. It must be all the kimchi he's had for lunch.
Practice unfolds as usual, only Jonghyun's watching from the far end of the room, eyes focused on the expanse of mirrors in front of him. This isn't the first time Jonghyun has done this, or any of them, for that matter, but somehow it feels different with Jonghyun not knowing the choreography, Jonghyun's vocals not soaring above the backing track, with Jonghyun's feet propped under his legs and his bangs falling over his eyes.
Kibum looks at the crack in the center where two mirrors meet. It's Taemin's dance break. Three quick breaths to recalibrate himself, eight counts until Joonmyun belts out beside him and Jinki's voice comes in, five seconds until Minho messes up the choreo again and accidentally steps on Kibum's foot when he makes a wrong turn.
Minho doesn't stop dancing. He meets Kibum's eyes briefly as if saying, you can't just stand there, Kim. Kibum picks up midway through the choreography and slides to the left, filling the gap between Taemin and Minho.
Jonghyun's gaze on him lingers.
They weren't kidding when they said the months leading up to debuting are nothing but complete torture. Joonmyun's hugging his legs close to his chest, and Jinki's slumped in a corner, breathing heavy and ragged. Taemin's sprawled on the floor, lying flat on his back, and Minho pops a pill in his mouth - possibly a paracetamol; he hasn't been feeling well these days. Kibum's the only one standing, hands on his hips, but he falls right into place with the beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks, his hair sticking to his face.
Minho throws a hand towel at him and Kibum catches it even before it can hit his face. He turns to Minho with a small smile and mumbles, "Thanks."
Jonghyun hasn't been around that much - he's seen Jonghyun only twice this week after practice, and that isn't even because Jonghyun leaves the building much earlier than they do. Some nights, Jonghyun spends sleeping on the floor of the music room; some, in a recording booth, trying to find his voice again, that sweet spot where he can hit the right notes the way he wants to. They don't get the leisure of using cellphones until months after debut, so Kibum relies heavily on timing - equal amounts of looking around, searching for clues, and intuition. And then there's Minho rubbing elbows with Super Junior and Jonghyun working on a track for them - it makes Kibum's life so much easier.
Minho pats the empty space beside him, and Kibum quickly turns to the source of the sound, cocking his head when he meets Minho in the eye. 'Sit," Minho says, loud enough for him to hear but soft enough that it doesn't stir Jinki from the slumber he's just drifted into.
"I'm not a dog," Kibum says in thoughtless retaliation but plops down, anyway. Their elbows bump. Kibum winces at the jolt of electricity coursing through his arm.
"Jonghyun-hyung's off early today. The track he worked on for Super Junior has finally been polished so he's essentially free today. And tomorrow. And all other days of the week, for that matter."
Kibum looks at Minho, doesn't fight the smile making its way to his lips, and leans against Minho's shoulder. Their arms are sticky with sweat and the lethargy hours of dance practice brings, but there's a promise of good things to come in the upward curve of Minho's lips, in the way he pats Kibum's hair and quickly lets his hand fall to his side before Kibum can even swat Minho's hand away.
"Wanna come?" Kibum asks. Casualty number two is Joonmyun who's now leaning against Jinki. Taemin's not too far off.
Minho chuckles lightly, does that thing again where he runs his fingers through Kibum's hair, but lets his touch linger. His fingers are cold. "Sure."
Minho slides beside Kibum right after practice. Jinki and Joonmyun excuse themselves for two more hours of vocal practice, and Taemin says he'll be staying behind to do a few more runs of the routine to see if there's anything that can be further improved.
"He should be here any second," Minho says once they've reached the roofdeck. The wind's blowing stronger than the usual, mussing up Minho's hair. Kibum reaches out, combs his fingers through the tuft, and Minho grins all too easily as he says, "I should get a haircut soon."
"Ask the management first if you can," Kibum chimes. His gaze shifts from the doorknob to his wristwatch and back again, then up at Minho when Minho doesn't make a sound. "Wow, we actually get to say that now. I mean, we're actually debuting. Can you believe that?"
Minho leans against the ledge and throws his head back. His eyes are closed and he's whistling, and Kibum gets impatient, annoyed when he's at the receiving end of these things. "A belated realization," Minho replies a a few minutes after. "Still in a state of shock, huh?"
"You don't get to ask me another question just because you answered mine, Choi."
"And you don't get to order me around." Minho sits up straight, pats the empty space beside him. "You've been extra weird since Jonghyun-hyung left."
Left isn't exactly the best word to use in that sentence. Jonghyun never left - he's still here in the building, somewhere, in one of the rooms neither of them have probably ever been to. Jonghyun still walks down the same halls and breathes the same air and is still under the same company. He's anywhere in the confines of the building but beside Kibum and Minho and every other member of their group - SHINee's what they'll be called - and somehow the building, the world Kibum has moved around in for the past year, seems so big for a person so small like him.
"As if I can get any weirder." Kibum scoffs. "I'm just tired."
"You can't be tired when you half-ass the choreography."
Kibum shoots Minho a look and snarls, "I never half-ass anything."
Minho chuckles - laughs, like the sight of a snarling, growling Kibum is the most amusing thing since Jinki finally delivered a good joke. "Which is why," Minho begins, then moves closer, an inch or two, until their shoulders bump. The contact sends jolts of electricity down Kibum's arm. "- you're extra weird. Or an extra dose of something. It's okay to be sad, Kibum. I get sad. Taemin and Jinki-hyung get sad. Heck, even the perfect Joonmyun probably gets sad, too."
Kibum rolls his eyes. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."
Minho grins at him, too bright for nine in the evening. "And you finally admitted it."
Kibum stops, stares, and his jaw drops a few centimeters, and he hits Minho once twice thrice on the arm until laughter begins to bubble on Minho's lips and Minho holds his arms up in defense. He yields, anyway, not bothering to counter Kibum's attacks, and Kibum notes the flush painting Minho's cheeks, the beads of tears at the corners of his eyes, the melody of his laughter and the way it makes Kibum's stomach lurch.
Jonghyun makes a brief appearance in the rooftop before rushing back to the music room, mumbling something about, Oh, wait, inspiration. The muse is finally here! She's back, Kibummie! She's back! Kibum tries to understand - the rush, the thrill, the sheer importance of the return of a writing muse, the way a grin lights the corners of Jonghyun's lips when he starts humming a melody under his breath and gives Kibum a brief yet tight hug. "Well, that was quick," Minho supplies, and Kibum accidentally-on-purpose steps on Minho's foot on the way down.
"Wanna grab something to eat?" Minho asks. Kibum slows down almost instantly. "I'm kinda hungry."
Kibum feels for his stomach, hears it grumble in response, and Minho chuckles.
The trip to the nearest tteokbokki stall doesn't take long, but the cold wind almost makes it impossible to speed up their pace. Kibum's knees are shaking by the time they get to the stand, and he says too enthusiastically, "Tteokbokki!", like a battle cry just before the start of a war.
"You're paying?" Minho asks. He's grinning. Kibum hates that gum-baring smile.
"Only if you don't order another."
Minho shrugs, orders two servings of hotteok, and grins at Kibum as he bites off a piece of his tteokbokki.
Late night snacks with Minho becomes a daily practice. Sometimes, Taemin would join and order more than he can eat and make Kibum and Minho pay for the mess he's made. Sometimes, Joonmyun and Jinki would be with them and they'd be capping the night in a samgyupsal place, eating more tteokbokki than meat. Sometimes, they won't even order anything, just tread the streets of Gangnam and look at the people passing by, teenagers laughing their hearts out or young professionals looking crisp in their suits and tailored skirts. Minho will give him the luxury of silence and he'll give Minho the occasional glance in return.
"Y'know, if we headed home an hour ago, we'd be sleeping by now," Kibum says one time, halfway through their walking tour of Gangnam. He darts his tongue out a little to lick his lips, seethes when the cold wind blows at them. Beside him, Minho shivers. "And we won't have to deal with this thing. Where the hell are we going, Minho?"
"Here."
Minho gestures at the establishment to their left, a fancy-looking restaurant serving many different kinds of tteokbokki. "We'll have to share just one plate, though," Minho whispers.
Kibum looks at him, just looks at him with all the disbelief, shock, something akin to amazement that he can muster, lips slightly parted in a tiny 'o'. "It's fucking expensive here," he whispers, but Minho ushers him inside, anyway, and he has to clasp a hand over his mouth to keep himself from saying anything, like what he'll say will ruin it. "Why are you doing this," he adds after a while, when they're already seated inside. Minho hasn't looked up from the menu since they've arrived.
"Ya, Minho, why are you-"
Minho peeks from his bangs. "Because you're sad," he reasons out, then looks back at the menu after a while. "And I can't work with with sad people like you so I'm trying to make you happy."
"By buying my happiness? Wow, thanks."
"By feeding you your favorite post-practice food." Minho resurfaces, waving at the waitress and saying, "Two orders of this, please."
Kibum looks at Minho, then the menu, then the waitress, and blurts out, "And one kimchi jjigae, please." From the corner of his eye, he can see Minho's eyes go wide and the look of disbelief in his face. A smile comes all too easy to him when Minho begins to chuckle. "And water, lots of water. Thank you."
Countdown to debut: 2 months.
Taemin's more jittery than the usual, but give him a mug of hot chocolate and rub circles on his back and he'll be as good as new. Joonmyun's been driving himself harder than the usual, going for more runs of the routine after practice, but on weekends he leaves on the dot, as soon as practice is over. Jinki's the sanest of them all, but occasionally he'll screw things up and slip and he'll spend the next few minutes in the bathroom, splashing water on his face, breaths measured as he repeats to himself like a mantra, "It's okay. People make mistakes. You're going to be fine."
Kibum sits down beside Minho and stretches out his legs, then nudges Minho with his elbow. "How are you holding up?"
"Fucking nervous," Minho mumbles. His eyes are closed and his fists are balled and his breathing's still heavy from the last run they've done, but there's a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Weird, Kibum's mind registers, but he keeps his eyes fixed on Minho, anyway, waiting for the moment of surrender and Minho opening his eyes. "Like, really fucking nervous. I-can't-eat kind of nervous. Tteokbokki's-gonna-make-me-shit-in-my-pants kind of nervous."
"Please don't shit on my favorite food," Kibum says. He reaches out, rubs small circles on the back of Minho's hand until Minho stirs and looks at him. "Tteokbokki. Dude, you're so out of it."
Minho cocks his head, looks at him in the eye, then at his hand clamped on Minho's own, then back up until their eyes meet. Kibum retracts his hand slowly, keeps a straight face. He adds annoyance to the mix - a light upward tug of the eyebrow, a downward tug of the lips, a small puff of air as he rolls his eyes and tucks his hands under his legs and shakes his head. "It's official - you're crazy."
A few slow nods and Minho's back, eyes glimmering with - determination? A renewed sense of purpose? Some magic word for 'debut'? He pushes himself up from the floor and extends a hand in Kibum's direction once he's back on his feet. "Come on, you're going through the choreo with me again. You're dragging your foot to the next beat right after the chorus. You're pulling us down."
"Well, sorry for my long legs."
Jinki steps back inside the practice room just in time. "Can we not talk about long legs, please? That's a sensitive topic."
Minho snorts, face contorting into something kind of unattractive. His bangs fall to his eyes. Kibum takes the extended hand and doesn't reach for Minho's hair, doesn't brush off the stray strands so he can see Minho's big eyes and the crinkles at the corners. He takes a deep breath and counts to ten.
He reaches for music player at the same time that Minho does. Minho's smile is unsettling, and so is the lurching sensation in his stomach.
Kibum marks off the days leading to debut - a check mark for days when practice ends early, an 'x' for when the end at twelve midnight. Yellow circles are for those when he stays long after practice is over, doing extra runs of their dance or practicing his lines, eyes fixed on his reflection on the mirror. He's been trying to come up with different facial expressions recently - those that are easier to be drawn to, something softer than the classic raise of the eyebrow or the sidetracked grin.
And then there are days marked with a pink triangle - the nights he spends eating way too much tteokbokki with Minho in a stall, faces going hot ten minutes into their eating binge.
"I don't get the fuss about hotteok," Kibum confesses one time. He bites the tip of the tteok tentatively, testing the temperature before removing it from the stick with his teeth. "I mean, it's good and all, but it's just a pancake. It's normal."
Minho draws his hotteok closer to his side of the plate and frowns visibly. "Tteokbokki's normal by Korean standards. Why don't you try putting your favorite tteok inside the pancakes to make it different, huh?"
"Wow. Are you actually getting defensive over food?"
Minho pokes one slice of tteok with a stick, lips quirking into a grin. "Look, Kibum, we need to talk."
It all happens in a flash - Minho drawing his fingers along the length of Kibum's jaw, Minho taking the piece of hotteok's he's sliced earlier and popping it inside Kibum's mouth then adding tteokbokki to the mix, Minho gently snapping Kibum's jaw shut and tapping his index finger on Kibum's nose lightly while saying, "Eat."
Kibum's stuck somewhere, his teeth digging into the soft tteok, tongue grazing the hotteok lightly, and he automatically cringes, snarls through a mouthful of food, and chews until the mix is soft enough for swallowing. He catches Minho's gaze drop to his lips, the column on his neck when he swallows. He can feel his heartbeat definitely on the base of his throat - it's quick, heavy beats pounding against his skin, ringing in his ears.
"So?" Minho asks, eyes locked back on Kibum's own. Kibum gulps hard.
"It wasn't too bad."
Minho lets out a small, triumphant sound, raising fist in celebration. Never mind that the lady who's serving them tteokbokki's looking at them silly and laughing at them, or that Minho has some red sauce on his white shirt, or the fact that hotteok actually tastes good - Kibum's heart is still racing in his chest at an abnormally fast pace.
He sinks his teeth into a slice of tteok and watches as Minho wheezes, feels around for a glass of water.
He likes it.
A week until debut. A crazy week of preparations and last-minute polishes, of impromptu vocal lessons in the halls and rooftops and on the way home. Minho's been trying free verse rapping recently, rapping whatever comes to mind, and Kibum takes it upon himself to pick out the flaws in Minho's lyrics, to spot the holes, to improve on whatever Minho can give, to take it, and make something golden out of it. "You're having too much fun with this," Minho says after a while, as Kibum punctuates his thought process with nodding and a small smile. "I'm serious, you're loving this whole Minho's-at-my-mercy thing."
"I plan to conquer the world someday," Kibum replies, grinning as Minho rolls his eyes at him. "Well, what are you waiting for. Do that thing again, that-"
Minho shrugs but parts his lips, anyway, poised to rap. Kibum closes his eyes. The beginning is marked by Minho exhaling loudly; the end, Minho's hand warm around his wrist. The joint piece is about trying hard until there's nothing else in sight but the road to the top and Minho nails the performance, stressing on the right parts, drawing out the syllables of the keywords, all without missing a beat.
"You like it," Minho says soon after. It's not a question - there is no uncertainty beneath Minho's ragged breathing. Kibum begins to wonder when he's begun to be so predictable, easy. "Gonna bet my life on that, Kibum. Come on, tell me you liked it."
Kibum gets back to his feet and locks his arms behind his back. "Well, it was good. Better than the previous version."
"Oh, come on!"
Kibum supplies a straight answer over a shared serving of tteokbokki and hotteok, when he slips a piece of tteok between Minho's lips. Minho doesn't ask why, doesn't do anything but stare at him for at least ten seconds, and Kibum keeps his eyes fixed on the red sauce draped all over the tteok, on the steaming hot pancakes in front of them, on Minho's fingers drumming on the flat surface in front of them, merely centimeters from Kibum's own.
And then, there's the night of the debut.
They finish at half past seven in the evening, and Taemin does a pirouette, accidentally slams his leg into Jinki's ass. Jinki goes off-balance, and Joonmyun makes the mistake of trying to salvage whatever is left of Jinki's equilibrium. Soon, the three are a heap of limbs on the floor, and Joonmyun's laughing into the crook of Jinki's neck, and there's a deep flush tainting Jinki's cheeks.
Kibum looks twice, thinks twice about approaching the crime scene, until Minho walks past him and offers a hand to the fallen trio. In a split second, Jinki yanks at Minho's wrist, pulls him down, and Minho's laughing his heart out, the rich tone bouncing off the corners of the room.
Kibum joins the war by shooting water at the other members. Minho, halfway through getting back on his feet, slips and tugs at the hem of Kibum's shirt way too hard.
The next Kibum sees is an expanse of blue and his fingers splayed all over Minho's chest. He looks up, tentatively, and he's met with Minho's eyes, wide and inquiring. What are you looking at, Kibum wants to say, but there's something lodged in his throat, keeping all the air from reaching his lungs, making him ball his fists and relax them and clench them again.
"We're gonna leave you two there if you're planning to cuddle on the floor," Joonmyun says.
Kibum turns to look in Joonmyun's direction - since when have they gotten back on their feet? He pushes himself off of Minho, dusts himself off, reaches for the nearest water bottle to take a sip or a gulp or to drink the content all the way down.
"I'll run through the thing after the chorus with Kibum for a while," Minho says. To Jinki, he grins and adds, "We'll be done in thirty minutes max, I promise."
Minho never breaks promises. "Yeah," Kibum affirms. "I just need to make sure Minho doesn't fuck up tomorrow."
Taemin cackles and quickly clasps a hand over his mouth.
"I'll make this quick," Minho says as soon as the door locks.
He turns to Kibum, a small yet nice pirouette, and grabs Kibum by the wrist. Kibum takes a deep breath. This isn't part of the choreo, Kibum thinks - if they're at the chorus, they're supposed to be popping their knees up, pushing themselves back as they bring their hands together over their knees. They should be dragging the tip of their right foot as they turn to the left, then back to the right, index finger pointing up. They should just be beside each other, not this close, too close that he can smell the scent of sweat in Minho's hair, that he can trace the pimples lined along Minho's jaw if he wanted to.
"Nothing will change after this," Minho whispers. Kibum nods, swallowing hard. He worries his lower lip.
Minho leans in until their lips meet. It's an awkward, uncomfortable angle, and Kibum tries to find a better fit, cocking his head to the left. Minho curls a hand on his nape and Kibum's breath hitches, and he half-seethes, half-gasps, half-submits himself into the touch and half-holds himself back as he balls his fists in his side. Minho licks at the seams of his lips, testing the waters, and Kibum parts them almost automatically, sucking Minho's tongue before granting him full access. This isn't juvenile, nor is it terribly unrehearsed, but it is something, the word for which escaping Kibum's lips entirely, gets swallowed by Minho as Minho licks the cavern of his mouth, then sucks on his bottom lip, then sucks all the air out of him.
There's a string of saliva connecting them when they pull away. Kibum's breathing is heavy, ragged. His chest feels heavy; his lips, unbearably light.
"Let's go," Minho says after a while. Kibum nods, takes off without another word, but catches the sight of Minho touching his own lips, fingers dancing on the bottom lip, a ghost of a smile appearing at the corners.
next
From: Your Secret Santa
Title: Just keep moving forward
Pairing: Minho/Key, Jonghyun/Key
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: N/A
Author's Notes: Huge thanks to N for helping me figure out one of the pivotal points of the fic. And as always, to C and F, thank you for the word wars and all the hand-holding. ♥
It isn't much of a secret that Jonghyun strains his vocal chords. Most singers do, at one point or another, even if they try as carefully as possible not to push too hard, but when you've been training with SM for the longest time and you still haven't caught a break, it's difficult not to. There are long nights spent in practice rooms, running through a dance routine that will never be performed in front of people or trying to reach notes he can only dream of. There's Taemin trying to overcome his own voice and Jinki trying hard to cover the cracks in his voice with easy breathing. There's Minho saying sorry to the group for screwing up the routine, apologizing in behalf of his long libs. There's Jonghyun singing a particular part of a song again and again until his voice cracks.
Then Kibum grabs him by the wrist, looks at him in the eye and says, "Stop. You're going to break my eardrums." Later, with their backs against the cool mirror, Kibum says, "It's not in your key. Don't push it."
What does come as a shock, though, is that Jonghyun strains his vocal chords too hard that it fucks up the rest of his system and that he loses his chance to debut.
"I should have fucking listened," Jonghyun says now, legs pulled close to his chest. His voice is muffled but months of practicing alongside each other, breathing heavy and ragged, has taught Kibum this language. "Actually, I did; it was just too late. Now I've lost the chance to go up on stage and fucking sing my heart out and-"
Kibum places a hand on Jonghyun shoulder and rubs tentatively, pausing when Jonghyun freezes, but resuming when Jonghyun props his chin on his arms, eyes fixed on his shoes. "It's not yet the end," Kibum mumbles. He gives Jonghyun's arm a light squeeze.
It might as well be. Jonghyun has been singing since he was five, has been dreaming of being a singer and performing in front of everyone since he was eight. These staple stories only add to the amount of time and effort Jonghyun puts into each run of a song, each note, each sound that slips from his lips when they're asked to sing something. Jonghyun has been singing all his life. Singing is all Jonghyun has known, and now that it's been taken away from him, he knows nothing, not even himself.
"Sure it is," Jonghyun mumbles. He brushes Kibum off as he shrugs his shoulders lightly. Kibum does him a favor and lets his hand fall to his side. "What else would a person like me do?"
"Study? Work odd jobs? Get a part-time job in a music store or something? I don't know, man." And it's true - he doesn't know Jonghyun well enough to map out his life yet. Two years isn't enough to completely expose all of their secrets to each other in between vocal and dance practice and trying to catch a breath in the roofdeck. There's no secret trick to managing work, social life, and someone else's life at the moment. "You play the piano, right? Why don't you try composing?"
Jonghyun laughs a little. Five seconds until Jonghyun gives him a toothy grin, three until it registers to Jonghyun that he's going to laugh and it won't be a sight to behold. "I need to compose myself first."
Jonghyun erupts into a peal of laughter. His muscles relax and he stretches his legs and he throws his head back, beads of tears in the corners of his eyes as he chokes on his own laughter, and Kibum laughs in accord, slapping Jonghyun hard on the arm.
The news officially hits the four corners of the company when Heechul gets wind of it and immediately envelops Jonghyun in a bone-crushing hug.
"It's not the end of the world," Heechul says, voice unusually soft and sweet and maybe even a bit weird; Kibum hasn't heard him like this before, and even if he has he might have been too tired to even register a concern in Heechul's voice. "There's life outside of SM, you know what I'm saying? Hey, I know a few people who can get you into retail. Wanna give that a shot?"
"Thanks for the offer, but I think I don't want to go into the marketing side of things." Jonghyun laughs a little, trying to hide the awkward smile hanging from the corners of his lips as he weasels out of Heechul's one-armed hug. "I still want something music-related."
"SM-related," Heechul and Kibum chime at the same time. Taemin's having a hard time keeping it together.
"Composing sounds good," Jonghyun says, then turns to Kibum with wide eyes and a smile that says, yes, I actually thought about what you said. "I won't have to sing that much anymore but I'll be able to put my… skills to use?"
Heechul nods, contemplative. There's a small smile at the corner of his lips. "And who gave you the idea that you should even give that a shot?"
Jonghyun cocks his head to the left without even looking over his shoulder, hand reaching out instinctively to land on Kibum's wrist. Just a few more inches and he'd be shy of touching something else, but Jonghyun's good with rough estimates and distances - the distance from the dance practice room to the nearest comfort room, the distance between Jinki and Minho and how their being imbalanced in the formation gravely affects the rest of their performance. Kibum's shoulders from his, the distance they have to keep between themselves so that their bags don't bump against each other. Only on certain occasions does Jonghyun ever get his measurements wrong; approximating time is not part of his expertise.
Kibum raises his hand and Jonghyun yelps a little at the jerking motion. It's good to know that some things never change. Heechul turns to him with a toothy grin and says, "You're my new favorite." After a while, "Oops, gotta go!"
"So which composition do you think should I send as an audition?" Jonghyun asks later, on their way back from their break. He uses double quotes to add emphasis, but Kibum only shrugs and moves closer. Their shoulders bump from time to time. Kibum thinks about miscalculations and the uncertainty in Jonghyun's voice, the relief in Jonghyun's eyes when he hears Heechul say, Hey, there's still hope.
"The one you used to sing while we packed up after dance practice," Kibum answers after a while. Jonghyun slows down in his steps, eyebrows furrowed when he turns to Kibum. "Y'know, the one about waking up from a dream and recovering from a break up."
"A.K.A. most of the songs I've composed."
Kibum laughs a little, bumps his shoulder into Jonghyun's. Jonghyun cackles, losing it completely, Jonghyun's song, scratchy and so undeniably pre-debut, rings brightly in Kibum's ears.
The management finds a replacement for Jonghyun - another one of Jonghyun's friends, the one who goes by the name of Kim Joonmyun. His voice isn't anything like Jonghyun's, but he works hard and he has trained long enough, and there's the thirst to prove himself in the way he belts out notes, in the way he tries really, really hard to perfect each and every one of his lines, in the way he goes through the dance routine long after practice is over. It's sort of refreshing, this brand of enthusiasm, and it results to longer practices, shorter break times, bigger smiles at the end of the day. Joonmyun has that sort of effect on people - he pushes them hard, pushes himself harder to see if he can ever be any better.
"The new kid's good," Kibum mumbles. They're out in the rooftop. Jonghyun pleaded thirty minutes ago to meet there and alleviate the fatigue of being holed up the whole day in the music room, but practice ended just ten minutes ago; now, Jonghyun's sneezing. The cold almost always gets to him too fast. "Fine, he's not new and he's not a kid, but he's new new and he's really determined-"
"- Driven."
"Yeah, that, and you just know he's passionate about singing. He's good at making friends, too, but he's not a complete pushover." Jonghyun cackles, but gestures for him to go on. "He managed to convince Minho to treat everyone to takoyaki and tteokbokki. I mean, Minho of all people."
Jonghyun blows a puff of air, then shifts in his position so that they're facing each other. There's a hint of amusement in the way Jonghyun's eyes crinkle at the corners, in the way one side of Jonghyun's lips tugs up, lips protruding a little like he's about to say something but can't quite find the right words. "Minho, of all people," Jonghyun repeats, then nods slowly, thoughtfully, before continuing, "I'd say I have a great successor."
Kibum rolls his eyes. "Don't say that. He's nothing like you."
"But he is?" Jonghyun scratches the back of his head. The upward tug has turned into something more neutral; Jonghyun's lips have a life of their own and sometimes, only sometimes, Kibum wonders how it would be to suck out all of that. If he ever thinks of finishing kissing Jonghyun, he doesn't; instead, he swallows it all, musters a cackle. "He's a good friend of mine. I really won't mind if you suddenly upped and left me and-"
He moves two inches to his right and places his face towel between them. "Jonghyun," he says, an eyebrow raised, lips thinning into a straight line. "Jonghyun-hyung, please stop pulling my leg."
Jonghyun tugs lightly at his wrist, almost helplessly. He manages to say through a mouthful of laughter, "Well I'm pulling your arm now."
Kibum shakes his head, like it can make things better, ease Jonghyun's mind and ease him back into the swing of things. Jonghyun's coughing now, pounding his chest hard, His cheeks are flushed and there are beads of tears at the corners of his eyes. Jonghyun always laughs like it's his last day on Earth.
"They accepted my application, by the way," Jonghyun mentions once he's caught his breath again. "Said I was promising and that I should thank my piano-playing skills because I write crappy lyrics. I told them I write from the heart and they fucking laughed at me." Jonghyun pauses. He sounds more amused than affronted. He's weird, but Kibum has always liked his friends that way. "And then they said, I like him. Kid has more backbone than any of the younger composers. That injury's a blessing in disguise."
"So what now?" Kibum asks. There's a slow-forming smile on Jonghyun's lips. He takes a deep breath.
Jonghyun flashes a v-sign at him, grins wide enough for Kibum to see his canines. They're blinding. "You're looking at the future Yoo Youngjin, mister."
A couple of weeks in, Joonmyun has made a room in their schedules faster than he can nail dance steps properly. "He's that kind of guy," Jinki says, shrugging, then leans back against the mirror. He winces as he makes contact with the cold surface, and Kibum just chuckles. "The kind that's hard to hate. It bothers me sometimes."
"I get that a lot," Joonmyun says, announcing his presence. Kibum chortles and aims for a high-five; Joonmyun's hand finds a fit in his. "It comes with years of practice."
"You've only been here for a year," Minho comments. Taemin elbows him in his side.
"Just like all of you." Joonmyun slips back into his standard smile. "We're not that different."
"Yeah, sure, whatever," comes a familiar voice. Kibum looks over his shoulder with practiced ease and sinks his cheek into the protruding bone when Jonghyun flashes a toothy grin at him. To Joonmyun, Jonghyun says, "They actually love you."
A light bump of the fist and Kibum feels his stomach lurch. It must be all the kimchi he's had for lunch.
Practice unfolds as usual, only Jonghyun's watching from the far end of the room, eyes focused on the expanse of mirrors in front of him. This isn't the first time Jonghyun has done this, or any of them, for that matter, but somehow it feels different with Jonghyun not knowing the choreography, Jonghyun's vocals not soaring above the backing track, with Jonghyun's feet propped under his legs and his bangs falling over his eyes.
Kibum looks at the crack in the center where two mirrors meet. It's Taemin's dance break. Three quick breaths to recalibrate himself, eight counts until Joonmyun belts out beside him and Jinki's voice comes in, five seconds until Minho messes up the choreo again and accidentally steps on Kibum's foot when he makes a wrong turn.
Minho doesn't stop dancing. He meets Kibum's eyes briefly as if saying, you can't just stand there, Kim. Kibum picks up midway through the choreography and slides to the left, filling the gap between Taemin and Minho.
Jonghyun's gaze on him lingers.
They weren't kidding when they said the months leading up to debuting are nothing but complete torture. Joonmyun's hugging his legs close to his chest, and Jinki's slumped in a corner, breathing heavy and ragged. Taemin's sprawled on the floor, lying flat on his back, and Minho pops a pill in his mouth - possibly a paracetamol; he hasn't been feeling well these days. Kibum's the only one standing, hands on his hips, but he falls right into place with the beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks, his hair sticking to his face.
Minho throws a hand towel at him and Kibum catches it even before it can hit his face. He turns to Minho with a small smile and mumbles, "Thanks."
Jonghyun hasn't been around that much - he's seen Jonghyun only twice this week after practice, and that isn't even because Jonghyun leaves the building much earlier than they do. Some nights, Jonghyun spends sleeping on the floor of the music room; some, in a recording booth, trying to find his voice again, that sweet spot where he can hit the right notes the way he wants to. They don't get the leisure of using cellphones until months after debut, so Kibum relies heavily on timing - equal amounts of looking around, searching for clues, and intuition. And then there's Minho rubbing elbows with Super Junior and Jonghyun working on a track for them - it makes Kibum's life so much easier.
Minho pats the empty space beside him, and Kibum quickly turns to the source of the sound, cocking his head when he meets Minho in the eye. 'Sit," Minho says, loud enough for him to hear but soft enough that it doesn't stir Jinki from the slumber he's just drifted into.
"I'm not a dog," Kibum says in thoughtless retaliation but plops down, anyway. Their elbows bump. Kibum winces at the jolt of electricity coursing through his arm.
"Jonghyun-hyung's off early today. The track he worked on for Super Junior has finally been polished so he's essentially free today. And tomorrow. And all other days of the week, for that matter."
Kibum looks at Minho, doesn't fight the smile making its way to his lips, and leans against Minho's shoulder. Their arms are sticky with sweat and the lethargy hours of dance practice brings, but there's a promise of good things to come in the upward curve of Minho's lips, in the way he pats Kibum's hair and quickly lets his hand fall to his side before Kibum can even swat Minho's hand away.
"Wanna come?" Kibum asks. Casualty number two is Joonmyun who's now leaning against Jinki. Taemin's not too far off.
Minho chuckles lightly, does that thing again where he runs his fingers through Kibum's hair, but lets his touch linger. His fingers are cold. "Sure."
Minho slides beside Kibum right after practice. Jinki and Joonmyun excuse themselves for two more hours of vocal practice, and Taemin says he'll be staying behind to do a few more runs of the routine to see if there's anything that can be further improved.
"He should be here any second," Minho says once they've reached the roofdeck. The wind's blowing stronger than the usual, mussing up Minho's hair. Kibum reaches out, combs his fingers through the tuft, and Minho grins all too easily as he says, "I should get a haircut soon."
"Ask the management first if you can," Kibum chimes. His gaze shifts from the doorknob to his wristwatch and back again, then up at Minho when Minho doesn't make a sound. "Wow, we actually get to say that now. I mean, we're actually debuting. Can you believe that?"
Minho leans against the ledge and throws his head back. His eyes are closed and he's whistling, and Kibum gets impatient, annoyed when he's at the receiving end of these things. "A belated realization," Minho replies a a few minutes after. "Still in a state of shock, huh?"
"You don't get to ask me another question just because you answered mine, Choi."
"And you don't get to order me around." Minho sits up straight, pats the empty space beside him. "You've been extra weird since Jonghyun-hyung left."
Left isn't exactly the best word to use in that sentence. Jonghyun never left - he's still here in the building, somewhere, in one of the rooms neither of them have probably ever been to. Jonghyun still walks down the same halls and breathes the same air and is still under the same company. He's anywhere in the confines of the building but beside Kibum and Minho and every other member of their group - SHINee's what they'll be called - and somehow the building, the world Kibum has moved around in for the past year, seems so big for a person so small like him.
"As if I can get any weirder." Kibum scoffs. "I'm just tired."
"You can't be tired when you half-ass the choreography."
Kibum shoots Minho a look and snarls, "I never half-ass anything."
Minho chuckles - laughs, like the sight of a snarling, growling Kibum is the most amusing thing since Jinki finally delivered a good joke. "Which is why," Minho begins, then moves closer, an inch or two, until their shoulders bump. The contact sends jolts of electricity down Kibum's arm. "- you're extra weird. Or an extra dose of something. It's okay to be sad, Kibum. I get sad. Taemin and Jinki-hyung get sad. Heck, even the perfect Joonmyun probably gets sad, too."
Kibum rolls his eyes. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."
Minho grins at him, too bright for nine in the evening. "And you finally admitted it."
Kibum stops, stares, and his jaw drops a few centimeters, and he hits Minho once twice thrice on the arm until laughter begins to bubble on Minho's lips and Minho holds his arms up in defense. He yields, anyway, not bothering to counter Kibum's attacks, and Kibum notes the flush painting Minho's cheeks, the beads of tears at the corners of his eyes, the melody of his laughter and the way it makes Kibum's stomach lurch.
Jonghyun makes a brief appearance in the rooftop before rushing back to the music room, mumbling something about, Oh, wait, inspiration. The muse is finally here! She's back, Kibummie! She's back! Kibum tries to understand - the rush, the thrill, the sheer importance of the return of a writing muse, the way a grin lights the corners of Jonghyun's lips when he starts humming a melody under his breath and gives Kibum a brief yet tight hug. "Well, that was quick," Minho supplies, and Kibum accidentally-on-purpose steps on Minho's foot on the way down.
"Wanna grab something to eat?" Minho asks. Kibum slows down almost instantly. "I'm kinda hungry."
Kibum feels for his stomach, hears it grumble in response, and Minho chuckles.
The trip to the nearest tteokbokki stall doesn't take long, but the cold wind almost makes it impossible to speed up their pace. Kibum's knees are shaking by the time they get to the stand, and he says too enthusiastically, "Tteokbokki!", like a battle cry just before the start of a war.
"You're paying?" Minho asks. He's grinning. Kibum hates that gum-baring smile.
"Only if you don't order another."
Minho shrugs, orders two servings of hotteok, and grins at Kibum as he bites off a piece of his tteokbokki.
Late night snacks with Minho becomes a daily practice. Sometimes, Taemin would join and order more than he can eat and make Kibum and Minho pay for the mess he's made. Sometimes, Joonmyun and Jinki would be with them and they'd be capping the night in a samgyupsal place, eating more tteokbokki than meat. Sometimes, they won't even order anything, just tread the streets of Gangnam and look at the people passing by, teenagers laughing their hearts out or young professionals looking crisp in their suits and tailored skirts. Minho will give him the luxury of silence and he'll give Minho the occasional glance in return.
"Y'know, if we headed home an hour ago, we'd be sleeping by now," Kibum says one time, halfway through their walking tour of Gangnam. He darts his tongue out a little to lick his lips, seethes when the cold wind blows at them. Beside him, Minho shivers. "And we won't have to deal with this thing. Where the hell are we going, Minho?"
"Here."
Minho gestures at the establishment to their left, a fancy-looking restaurant serving many different kinds of tteokbokki. "We'll have to share just one plate, though," Minho whispers.
Kibum looks at him, just looks at him with all the disbelief, shock, something akin to amazement that he can muster, lips slightly parted in a tiny 'o'. "It's fucking expensive here," he whispers, but Minho ushers him inside, anyway, and he has to clasp a hand over his mouth to keep himself from saying anything, like what he'll say will ruin it. "Why are you doing this," he adds after a while, when they're already seated inside. Minho hasn't looked up from the menu since they've arrived.
"Ya, Minho, why are you-"
Minho peeks from his bangs. "Because you're sad," he reasons out, then looks back at the menu after a while. "And I can't work with with sad people like you so I'm trying to make you happy."
"By buying my happiness? Wow, thanks."
"By feeding you your favorite post-practice food." Minho resurfaces, waving at the waitress and saying, "Two orders of this, please."
Kibum looks at Minho, then the menu, then the waitress, and blurts out, "And one kimchi jjigae, please." From the corner of his eye, he can see Minho's eyes go wide and the look of disbelief in his face. A smile comes all too easy to him when Minho begins to chuckle. "And water, lots of water. Thank you."
Countdown to debut: 2 months.
Taemin's more jittery than the usual, but give him a mug of hot chocolate and rub circles on his back and he'll be as good as new. Joonmyun's been driving himself harder than the usual, going for more runs of the routine after practice, but on weekends he leaves on the dot, as soon as practice is over. Jinki's the sanest of them all, but occasionally he'll screw things up and slip and he'll spend the next few minutes in the bathroom, splashing water on his face, breaths measured as he repeats to himself like a mantra, "It's okay. People make mistakes. You're going to be fine."
Kibum sits down beside Minho and stretches out his legs, then nudges Minho with his elbow. "How are you holding up?"
"Fucking nervous," Minho mumbles. His eyes are closed and his fists are balled and his breathing's still heavy from the last run they've done, but there's a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Weird, Kibum's mind registers, but he keeps his eyes fixed on Minho, anyway, waiting for the moment of surrender and Minho opening his eyes. "Like, really fucking nervous. I-can't-eat kind of nervous. Tteokbokki's-gonna-make-me-shit-in-my-pants kind of nervous."
"Please don't shit on my favorite food," Kibum says. He reaches out, rubs small circles on the back of Minho's hand until Minho stirs and looks at him. "Tteokbokki. Dude, you're so out of it."
Minho cocks his head, looks at him in the eye, then at his hand clamped on Minho's own, then back up until their eyes meet. Kibum retracts his hand slowly, keeps a straight face. He adds annoyance to the mix - a light upward tug of the eyebrow, a downward tug of the lips, a small puff of air as he rolls his eyes and tucks his hands under his legs and shakes his head. "It's official - you're crazy."
A few slow nods and Minho's back, eyes glimmering with - determination? A renewed sense of purpose? Some magic word for 'debut'? He pushes himself up from the floor and extends a hand in Kibum's direction once he's back on his feet. "Come on, you're going through the choreo with me again. You're dragging your foot to the next beat right after the chorus. You're pulling us down."
"Well, sorry for my long legs."
Jinki steps back inside the practice room just in time. "Can we not talk about long legs, please? That's a sensitive topic."
Minho snorts, face contorting into something kind of unattractive. His bangs fall to his eyes. Kibum takes the extended hand and doesn't reach for Minho's hair, doesn't brush off the stray strands so he can see Minho's big eyes and the crinkles at the corners. He takes a deep breath and counts to ten.
He reaches for music player at the same time that Minho does. Minho's smile is unsettling, and so is the lurching sensation in his stomach.
Kibum marks off the days leading to debut - a check mark for days when practice ends early, an 'x' for when the end at twelve midnight. Yellow circles are for those when he stays long after practice is over, doing extra runs of their dance or practicing his lines, eyes fixed on his reflection on the mirror. He's been trying to come up with different facial expressions recently - those that are easier to be drawn to, something softer than the classic raise of the eyebrow or the sidetracked grin.
And then there are days marked with a pink triangle - the nights he spends eating way too much tteokbokki with Minho in a stall, faces going hot ten minutes into their eating binge.
"I don't get the fuss about hotteok," Kibum confesses one time. He bites the tip of the tteok tentatively, testing the temperature before removing it from the stick with his teeth. "I mean, it's good and all, but it's just a pancake. It's normal."
Minho draws his hotteok closer to his side of the plate and frowns visibly. "Tteokbokki's normal by Korean standards. Why don't you try putting your favorite tteok inside the pancakes to make it different, huh?"
"Wow. Are you actually getting defensive over food?"
Minho pokes one slice of tteok with a stick, lips quirking into a grin. "Look, Kibum, we need to talk."
It all happens in a flash - Minho drawing his fingers along the length of Kibum's jaw, Minho taking the piece of hotteok's he's sliced earlier and popping it inside Kibum's mouth then adding tteokbokki to the mix, Minho gently snapping Kibum's jaw shut and tapping his index finger on Kibum's nose lightly while saying, "Eat."
Kibum's stuck somewhere, his teeth digging into the soft tteok, tongue grazing the hotteok lightly, and he automatically cringes, snarls through a mouthful of food, and chews until the mix is soft enough for swallowing. He catches Minho's gaze drop to his lips, the column on his neck when he swallows. He can feel his heartbeat definitely on the base of his throat - it's quick, heavy beats pounding against his skin, ringing in his ears.
"So?" Minho asks, eyes locked back on Kibum's own. Kibum gulps hard.
"It wasn't too bad."
Minho lets out a small, triumphant sound, raising fist in celebration. Never mind that the lady who's serving them tteokbokki's looking at them silly and laughing at them, or that Minho has some red sauce on his white shirt, or the fact that hotteok actually tastes good - Kibum's heart is still racing in his chest at an abnormally fast pace.
He sinks his teeth into a slice of tteok and watches as Minho wheezes, feels around for a glass of water.
He likes it.
A week until debut. A crazy week of preparations and last-minute polishes, of impromptu vocal lessons in the halls and rooftops and on the way home. Minho's been trying free verse rapping recently, rapping whatever comes to mind, and Kibum takes it upon himself to pick out the flaws in Minho's lyrics, to spot the holes, to improve on whatever Minho can give, to take it, and make something golden out of it. "You're having too much fun with this," Minho says after a while, as Kibum punctuates his thought process with nodding and a small smile. "I'm serious, you're loving this whole Minho's-at-my-mercy thing."
"I plan to conquer the world someday," Kibum replies, grinning as Minho rolls his eyes at him. "Well, what are you waiting for. Do that thing again, that-"
Minho shrugs but parts his lips, anyway, poised to rap. Kibum closes his eyes. The beginning is marked by Minho exhaling loudly; the end, Minho's hand warm around his wrist. The joint piece is about trying hard until there's nothing else in sight but the road to the top and Minho nails the performance, stressing on the right parts, drawing out the syllables of the keywords, all without missing a beat.
"You like it," Minho says soon after. It's not a question - there is no uncertainty beneath Minho's ragged breathing. Kibum begins to wonder when he's begun to be so predictable, easy. "Gonna bet my life on that, Kibum. Come on, tell me you liked it."
Kibum gets back to his feet and locks his arms behind his back. "Well, it was good. Better than the previous version."
"Oh, come on!"
Kibum supplies a straight answer over a shared serving of tteokbokki and hotteok, when he slips a piece of tteok between Minho's lips. Minho doesn't ask why, doesn't do anything but stare at him for at least ten seconds, and Kibum keeps his eyes fixed on the red sauce draped all over the tteok, on the steaming hot pancakes in front of them, on Minho's fingers drumming on the flat surface in front of them, merely centimeters from Kibum's own.
And then, there's the night of the debut.
They finish at half past seven in the evening, and Taemin does a pirouette, accidentally slams his leg into Jinki's ass. Jinki goes off-balance, and Joonmyun makes the mistake of trying to salvage whatever is left of Jinki's equilibrium. Soon, the three are a heap of limbs on the floor, and Joonmyun's laughing into the crook of Jinki's neck, and there's a deep flush tainting Jinki's cheeks.
Kibum looks twice, thinks twice about approaching the crime scene, until Minho walks past him and offers a hand to the fallen trio. In a split second, Jinki yanks at Minho's wrist, pulls him down, and Minho's laughing his heart out, the rich tone bouncing off the corners of the room.
Kibum joins the war by shooting water at the other members. Minho, halfway through getting back on his feet, slips and tugs at the hem of Kibum's shirt way too hard.
The next Kibum sees is an expanse of blue and his fingers splayed all over Minho's chest. He looks up, tentatively, and he's met with Minho's eyes, wide and inquiring. What are you looking at, Kibum wants to say, but there's something lodged in his throat, keeping all the air from reaching his lungs, making him ball his fists and relax them and clench them again.
"We're gonna leave you two there if you're planning to cuddle on the floor," Joonmyun says.
Kibum turns to look in Joonmyun's direction - since when have they gotten back on their feet? He pushes himself off of Minho, dusts himself off, reaches for the nearest water bottle to take a sip or a gulp or to drink the content all the way down.
"I'll run through the thing after the chorus with Kibum for a while," Minho says. To Jinki, he grins and adds, "We'll be done in thirty minutes max, I promise."
Minho never breaks promises. "Yeah," Kibum affirms. "I just need to make sure Minho doesn't fuck up tomorrow."
Taemin cackles and quickly clasps a hand over his mouth.
"I'll make this quick," Minho says as soon as the door locks.
He turns to Kibum, a small yet nice pirouette, and grabs Kibum by the wrist. Kibum takes a deep breath. This isn't part of the choreo, Kibum thinks - if they're at the chorus, they're supposed to be popping their knees up, pushing themselves back as they bring their hands together over their knees. They should be dragging the tip of their right foot as they turn to the left, then back to the right, index finger pointing up. They should just be beside each other, not this close, too close that he can smell the scent of sweat in Minho's hair, that he can trace the pimples lined along Minho's jaw if he wanted to.
"Nothing will change after this," Minho whispers. Kibum nods, swallowing hard. He worries his lower lip.
Minho leans in until their lips meet. It's an awkward, uncomfortable angle, and Kibum tries to find a better fit, cocking his head to the left. Minho curls a hand on his nape and Kibum's breath hitches, and he half-seethes, half-gasps, half-submits himself into the touch and half-holds himself back as he balls his fists in his side. Minho licks at the seams of his lips, testing the waters, and Kibum parts them almost automatically, sucking Minho's tongue before granting him full access. This isn't juvenile, nor is it terribly unrehearsed, but it is something, the word for which escaping Kibum's lips entirely, gets swallowed by Minho as Minho licks the cavern of his mouth, then sucks on his bottom lip, then sucks all the air out of him.
There's a string of saliva connecting them when they pull away. Kibum's breathing is heavy, ragged. His chest feels heavy; his lips, unbearably light.
"Let's go," Minho says after a while. Kibum nods, takes off without another word, but catches the sight of Minho touching his own lips, fingers dancing on the bottom lip, a ghost of a smile appearing at the corners.
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