[b1a4, block b] wonderful tonight
wonderful tonight
b1a4 + block b, jinyoung/zico
pg-13, 3230w
prompt: "jinyoung is a pop music songwriter that favours songs about librarians and soccer players. zico is an underground rap artist that raps about space and greed. somehow, they manage to fall in love."
ao3 mirror
After his set, Jiho comes off stage and sees Kyung across the room, gesturing him over to the bar. As he makes his way through the crowd he sees that Kyung is talking to a skinny kid with short, dark red bangs. He looks like a high schooler who’s wandered into the wrong place: in his neat striped t-shirt and tight jeans, he’s practically a neon sign among the hip-hop crowd in hoodies and bandanas. Missing child; if found, please return to Myeongdong.
“Sup,” says Jiho, twisting his hand into a complicated handshake with Kyung: slapping palms, then the backs of their hands, then hooking pinkies and bumping fists with their thumbs extended.
“Hey, man,” says Kyung. “Here he is,” he says to the boy. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” He thumps both of them on the back once, then heads back into the crowd.
“Wait, dude...” Kyung grins at him before he disappears. Jiho watches him go forlornly. Then he turns to the kid, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh. How you doing, man?”
The kid smiles and dips forward in a little bow. He has strange, deep-set eyes, Jiho notices. “That was a great set,” he says. His voice is soft, with a Chungcheong accent. “My name is Jung Jinyoung. I’m a songwriter.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” says Jiho, one eyebrow raised. “Well, you can call me Jiho.” He extends his hand and Jinyoung shakes it. His hands are bony and a little cold. “You want me to sign something?”
Jinyoung laughs and the corners of his eyes crinkle up. “No, but I would like to ask you something else. I’m working on a mini album right now for CNU, the singer, and I’m looking for a guest rapper for one of the songs. And I was wondering if you would be interested.”
Jiho stares at him, processing the information. Then he starts laughing. “Are you serious?”
“Does that mean you’re interested?”
Jiho snorts. “For CNU?” He shakes his head. “Look, even if you’re not lying to me, you got the wrong guy. I don’t know how much of my set you saw, or if you were paying attention at all, but for your information I don’t do that ‘hey girl, just wanna tell you I love you’ kind of stuff.” He tilts his head. “So thanks, but no thanks.”
He expects Jinyoung to look upset, maybe even start crying or something, but he just shrugs. “Okay. But this isn’t going to be the last time I ask.”
“Then this isn’t going to be the last time I’m gonna tell you no.”
Jinyoung merely nods. “Think about it. I’ll see you around.”
“There’s nothing to think about,” Jiho calls after his retreating back in the crowd. He can still track his striped t-shirt all the way to the entrance of the club.
Kyung returns with two bottles of beer and hands one to him. “Your new friend’s gone so soon?”
Jiho watches Jinyoung’s red head disappear through the doors, then he turns back to Kyung. “Just some idol songwriter,” he says. “Wanted me to guest on a song. For that guy CNU, if you can believe it.”
“Really?” says Kyung. “Man, I thought he was just a high school kid!”
“I dunno, maybe he is.” He’s about to drink when he stops himself and holds out the bottle towards Kyung. “Hey, we had a good show today. Cheers, man.”
Kyung clinks his bottle with Jiho’s. “To the red-haired songwriter class president,” he intones. Then he laughs. “Hey, maybe he’s Shinsadong Kitten.”
Jiho laughs too. “To Shinsadong Kitten.”
* * *
On Wednesday the week after the gig, Jiho shows up at the Match Up production studios to work on some tracks with Kyung and Hanhae. He’s five minutes late, but to his surprise, they’re both outside of Studio B2, Hanhae leaning against the wall and Kyung sprawled over the dark leather couch, his feet up on one of the armrests.
“What’s up?” says Jiho. “I’m not that late, am I?”
“You’re not, but he is,” says Hanhae, jerking his head toward the closed door of the studio. Jiho walks over to the door and leans against it, looking through the little window near the top.
“You’ll never guess who it is,” says Kyung from the couch.
At first Jiho just sees the guy in the recording booth, a round-faced kid with a bad haircut singing into the mic with his eyes closed. Then he sees that in front of the mixing board is a familiar red head of hair, and his jaw drops.
“No way. Is that Shinsadong Kitten?” he says, turning to Kyung.
“Apparently.”
Hanhae gives him a weird look. “Who?”
“Some guy who wanted Jiho on a track,” says Kyung.
“Well, whoever he is, he better be working on the fucking song to bring world peace in there. He said he’d be out ten minutes ago.”
“Jiho, tell him you’ll do the feature if he leaves.”
Jiho flips the bird at Kyung and knocks on the door. He notes the funk bassline coming from inside briefly before it pauses, and then the door opens.
Jinyoung’s eyes seem a little dazed. “Oh, Zico. Nice to see you,” he says, using Jiho’s stage name. “Do you want to come in and hear the song?”
“No, I want you out so we can work,” says Jiho. “And... Hold on. Did you really think I came here because of that? Wow.”
“Well, I mean, while you’re here...”
Jiho snorts and shakes his head. “The answer’s still no. Now, do you wanna pay for our time you’re taking up?”
Jinyoung looks at his watch. “Right, right. Sorry about that.” He walks over to the mixing board and leans over the mic to the booth. “Hey, Junghwan, let’s just pick this up again tomorrow. These guys are waiting.” He picks up his backpack from behind the chair, and waits for Junghwan to join him. Jiho turns and motions to Hanhae and Kyung, and they get up and follow him into the studio.
As Jinyoung passes Jiho on the way out, he stops and smiles at him. “I’ll think of a way to convince you eventually,” he says.
Jiho raises his eyebrows. Once Jinyoung’s out the door, he lets out a deep exhale. “Weird kid,” says Hanhae.
“Persistence is a virtue,” says Kyung. Hanhae snorts. “All right, let’s go.”
That night, Jiho looks up Jung Jinyoung on the songwriters’ database, then proceeds to enter the title of every song that comes up into Naver. The first few he finds are more or less what he expects: dance songs that are not badly composed, but not much beyond serviceable. One of them he recognizes right away - its trance beat has been following him from every accessories shop in Hongdae lately. Then there’s one recorded by a boy group that’s all about falling in love in a library, with a very literal MV to match, five well-groomed boys making alternately coy and shocked expressions behind hardcover books. Jiho eventually has to stop that one because the secondhand embarrassment is crushing him, but not before he forwards it to Kyung: The work of our Shinsadong Kitten!!
He’s about to give up when the words Acoustic Remix catch his eye, attached to a song called “Wonderful Tonight”. Jiho decides that it sounds interesting enough as a last stop on this stalking tour.
When he plays it, he realizes it's not a remix but a demo, with only a guitar and a throaty male voice. He guesses the voice belongs to the kid who Jinyoung had been recording at Match Up. The song doesn't sound bad in this form, less polished and less processed. But what makes him pay attention is when another voice appears, lighter and nasal, singing the second part of the chorus and then harmonizing with the first voice. After a moment, he realizes it’s Jinyoung.
It sounds a bit like his speaking voice with the bass taken out; it’s a little wobbly, but not breathy, and when he goes to the high notes it sounds like a plea. When they harmonize, the two voices round each other out, and Jiho finds himself amazed by the chord they make over the guitar strumming. He doesn’t know if he can say the song is good, but that sound resonates somewhere in his chest.
It’s still with him the next day when he receives a text that says, I got your number from the receptionist noona at the studio. I’m sorry for taking up your time yesterday. Can I make it up to you with drinks?
The chorus harmonies ring in his brain as he types back, Okay.
* * *
“What happened,” says Jinyoung, “was the company asked me to look for a rapper to guest on the song. A friend of mine sent me one of your mixtapes, and I was so impressed that I just wanted to meet you, never mind getting you onto a track.”
Jiho snorts. “You were impressed?” he says. “Shouldn’t you be the one trying to impress me?”
They’re in a bar in the quieter part of Hongdae, away from the nightclub crowds, drinking soju mixed with San Miguel that’s working faster on Jiho than he’s prepared to admit. “Am I not impressive enough for you already?” says Jinyoung, leaning back in his chair.
Jiho hides his grin in his drink. “So what was a big shot like you doing at Match Up, anyway? Don’t these labels have studios for you to work in?”
“Not for demo tracks,” Jinyoung replies as he grabs a piece of vegetable pancake. “Only once they know you have something for them, then they let you in. They’ll only give you things if they know they can get something out of it. But I like Match Up, anyway. It’s like my second home.” He laughs. “I’ve slept there I don’t know how many times.”
“Apparently you like to stay there way longer than you should, so I’m not surprised.”
“Hey, now.” Jinyoung hits his wrist, and his fingers pause momentarily against Jiho’s skin. It sends a tremor up Jiho’s arm, but when he looks up, Jinyoung lifts his hand and picks up his drink instead, his strange eyes shining over the rim of his glass.
Two bottles of soju and a plate of fried fish later they’re tripping over their own feet in the direction of Jiho’s building. “I can get a cab from there,” Jinyoung had said. Jiho holds onto Jinyoung’s skinny arm with both hands and fights the urge to sing Jinyoung’s songs back to him the whole way, but he throws in a choice line or two when he can, which results in Jinyoung giving him a noogie each time.
When they reach his building, he keeps holding onto Jinyoung’s arm. He looks at Jinyoung’s face, illuminated by the street lamp, and at the puffy clouds their breaths make in the late-fall air. Jinyoung looks back at him. “You live alone?” he says.
“Yeah,” says Jiho, not looking away from his eyes.
“Can I come up?” he asks, and it’s the first time Jiho’s heard that pleading, uncertain tone he has when he sings.
They don’t say a word to each other the whole way up to Jiho’s one-room apartment. As soon as they get inside, Jiho collapses onto his bed with a groan and Jinyoung stands and looks around for a place to put his coat.
“Just drop it,” says Jiho, “and come here.”
“Are you sure?” Jinyoung puts his coat down and sits down on the edge of the bed, watching Jiho. His cheeks are flushed red and his bangs are matted against his forehead. He’d make a funny-looking girl.
“I’m not gay, you know,” says Jiho. “But I just...”
“That’s okay,” says Jinyoung, leaning forward. He presses his lips to Jiho’s cheek and Jiho shuts his eyes. His lips are cold. “This is okay?” he murmurs next to his face.
“It’s okay,” says Jiho. He’s shaking.
Somehow, they end up with Jinyoung kneeling on the floor between his legs, one hand braced on Jiho’s thigh and a sly smile on his face. His thumb brushes against the tent of Jiho’s half-hard dick in his jeans and Jiho gasps. “You don’t have to,” he begins, “I’m not-” But Jinyoung shushes him.
“I know, I know,” he says. “Just let me do this. Please. For you.”
Jiho watches him fiddle with his zipper, and there’s a feeling of alarm rising in his chest as he remembers something Jinyoung had said earlier. “This isn’t... This doesn’t mean I owe you, you know,” he mumbles. “You can’t just...” A distant voice in his brain tells him that talking is a bad idea right now, but the words tumble out of his mouth anyway. “You can’t just blow me so I’ll give you what you want.”
Jinyoung pauses and looks up.
“I mean, it’d be nice, I’ll take it,” Jiho continues, even as his brain is going shut up shut up just shut up. “But if you think it’s going to change my mind, it’s not. You know?”
Jinyoung stares at him. “Seriously?” He pushes himself to his feet. “Nobody’s even brought that up all night. Do you really think that’s what...” He trails off, the back of his hand against his mouth. Jiho tries to reply, but after all that he’s run out of words. Finally Jinyoung laughs into his hand, with a strained smile. “All right. I guess we’re done here, then. Good night.”
And Jiho feels terribly sober all of a sudden, like the haze is draining down out of his head and into his limbs and stomach, replacing the anxious feeling from before. It makes his body heavy and traps him there on the bed as he listens to Jinyoung tightening the laces of his shoes, and how the quick, deliberate way he ties them sounds like a drumroll.
It’s only after the door has closed behind him that Jiho’s head rolls back against the wall and he groans. “Fuck.”
* * *
I think it’s my turn to buy you a drink.
I hope you’re not working too hard.
Hello??
Jiho sighs as he closes his sent text message folder and rolls over on his bed. It’s been almost a week and he hasn’t heard anything from Jinyoung: not about the feature, not about recording, not even to yell at him.
He hasn’t told anyone else about it, feeling too embarrassed about the circumstances. Kyung had returned his message about the library song with a laugh: I’ll anticipate your big debut. Jiho definitely couldn’t tell him that he’s been replaying Jinyoung’s demo, listening to the catch of his voice and thinking of the insistent way he had said, Let me do this for you. But that just turns into remembering the look on his face before he had left Jiho’s apartment the week before, and that makes him feel ill.
It’s almost been a week. That’s long enough, he tells himself. He looks through his phone and hesitates over the number saved as Match Up. “Don’t be such a fucking girl,” he reprimands himself, before pressing down and holding the phone up to his ear.
According to the receptionist, Jinyoung’s in Studio B1 this time. Jiho knocks on the door, peering through the window. When Jinyoung sees him, he holds up one finger to Jiho, then leans in and says something into the booth mic. The faint music coming from inside thumps to a stop, and Jinyoung gets up and opens the door.
“Are we over time again?” he asks before Jiho can say anything. His voice and face are calm and neutral. “We’ll be wrapping up soon, I promise...”
“No, no,” says Jiho. “Look, I.” He swallows. “I’m sorry about what happened last Friday.”
Jinyoung’s lips tighten. He steps outside the studio and closes the door behind him. “Yeah, me too,” he says, leaning against the door and crossing his arms. “But can we just say we both drank too much and move on?”
“No, I mean I’m sorry about what I said,” says Jiho quickly. “And... And what I thought about you. It wasn’t right of me and I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” says Jinyoung, nodding slowly. “Thanks for coming by, Jiho. I’m gonna go back to work now.”
“Wait,” says Jiho, holding out one hand, and he winces at the desperation in his voice. Jinyoung turns, one hand still on the doorknob.
“Look, Jiho.” His voice is quiet, but quavers a little. “I work hard. There’s no formula, there’s no machine where you press a button and a hit single comes out. Maybe you think that’s how it works, I don’t know. Sometimes I wish that’s how it worked. But even if it’s sappy or cliché or whatever, it doesn’t mean I haven’t put effort into it, and-”
“Even the songs about hot librarians?” Jiho cuts in. Jinyoung stops mid-sentence, then laughs once, incredulously.
“You listened to that one, did you?”
“I listened to them all,” says Jiho. He steps closer and Jinyoung doesn’t move away. “And you know what? They’re not bad. I mean, not my style, of course. But that one song,” he says, and he chews on his lip, steeling himself. Jinyoung watches him, waiting. “That one song, ‘Wonderful Tonight’, I heard the version where you sing. And.”
Jinyoung raises an eyebrow. “And?”
Jiho takes a deep breath. “And I’d... I want to hear you sing more. I want to hear you more, in general. Be around you.” He stares at Jinyoung’s forearm resting against the door so he doesn’t have to look at his face. “So if being on this song is the only way I’m going to get to see you, because I totally understand if you don’t want to hang out with me anymore, then maybe... Maybe I’ll give it a shot.” He lets out his breath, his gaze all the way down at his shoes now, his hands clammy where they’re jammed in the pockets of his hoodie. Then he looks up hesitantly.
And Jinyoung is smiling. It’s not the polite smile from when they first met, nor is it the tight smile from a week ago; it’s softer and less clearly defined than both, and it goes all the way up to his eyes. “Apology accepted,” he says, and relief rushes through Jiho so fast it knocks the wind out of him a little.
“Okay. Great,” he gulps. “I mean, no promises, but.”
“Of course.” Jinyoung pushes at the door, then stops. “Actually, we’re doing a guide vocal for the song right now,” he says. “Do you want to hear it? If you’re free, that is...”
Jiho nods. “Yeah, I’m free.” He can’t even remember if that’s true or not. If it isn’t, it doesn’t matter.
“Come in, then.” Jinyoung gestures with his head at the door and Jiho walks toward him. Then Jinyoung reaches into the pocket of Jiho’s hoodie and takes his hand. Jiho wishes his palms weren’t so sweaty, but he laces his fingers with Jinyoung’s anyway, and his breath quickens a little. Jinyoung squeezes his hand, smiles at him, then lets go and pushes open the door.
notes:
- anonymous commenting is on
- i hope this isn't too badly ooc
- the songwriters' database is real and my favourite thing
b1a4 + block b, jinyoung/zico
pg-13, 3230w
prompt: "jinyoung is a pop music songwriter that favours songs about librarians and soccer players. zico is an underground rap artist that raps about space and greed. somehow, they manage to fall in love."
ao3 mirror
After his set, Jiho comes off stage and sees Kyung across the room, gesturing him over to the bar. As he makes his way through the crowd he sees that Kyung is talking to a skinny kid with short, dark red bangs. He looks like a high schooler who’s wandered into the wrong place: in his neat striped t-shirt and tight jeans, he’s practically a neon sign among the hip-hop crowd in hoodies and bandanas. Missing child; if found, please return to Myeongdong.
“Sup,” says Jiho, twisting his hand into a complicated handshake with Kyung: slapping palms, then the backs of their hands, then hooking pinkies and bumping fists with their thumbs extended.
“Hey, man,” says Kyung. “Here he is,” he says to the boy. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” He thumps both of them on the back once, then heads back into the crowd.
“Wait, dude...” Kyung grins at him before he disappears. Jiho watches him go forlornly. Then he turns to the kid, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh. How you doing, man?”
The kid smiles and dips forward in a little bow. He has strange, deep-set eyes, Jiho notices. “That was a great set,” he says. His voice is soft, with a Chungcheong accent. “My name is Jung Jinyoung. I’m a songwriter.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” says Jiho, one eyebrow raised. “Well, you can call me Jiho.” He extends his hand and Jinyoung shakes it. His hands are bony and a little cold. “You want me to sign something?”
Jinyoung laughs and the corners of his eyes crinkle up. “No, but I would like to ask you something else. I’m working on a mini album right now for CNU, the singer, and I’m looking for a guest rapper for one of the songs. And I was wondering if you would be interested.”
Jiho stares at him, processing the information. Then he starts laughing. “Are you serious?”
“Does that mean you’re interested?”
Jiho snorts. “For CNU?” He shakes his head. “Look, even if you’re not lying to me, you got the wrong guy. I don’t know how much of my set you saw, or if you were paying attention at all, but for your information I don’t do that ‘hey girl, just wanna tell you I love you’ kind of stuff.” He tilts his head. “So thanks, but no thanks.”
He expects Jinyoung to look upset, maybe even start crying or something, but he just shrugs. “Okay. But this isn’t going to be the last time I ask.”
“Then this isn’t going to be the last time I’m gonna tell you no.”
Jinyoung merely nods. “Think about it. I’ll see you around.”
“There’s nothing to think about,” Jiho calls after his retreating back in the crowd. He can still track his striped t-shirt all the way to the entrance of the club.
Kyung returns with two bottles of beer and hands one to him. “Your new friend’s gone so soon?”
Jiho watches Jinyoung’s red head disappear through the doors, then he turns back to Kyung. “Just some idol songwriter,” he says. “Wanted me to guest on a song. For that guy CNU, if you can believe it.”
“Really?” says Kyung. “Man, I thought he was just a high school kid!”
“I dunno, maybe he is.” He’s about to drink when he stops himself and holds out the bottle towards Kyung. “Hey, we had a good show today. Cheers, man.”
Kyung clinks his bottle with Jiho’s. “To the red-haired songwriter class president,” he intones. Then he laughs. “Hey, maybe he’s Shinsadong Kitten.”
Jiho laughs too. “To Shinsadong Kitten.”
* * *
On Wednesday the week after the gig, Jiho shows up at the Match Up production studios to work on some tracks with Kyung and Hanhae. He’s five minutes late, but to his surprise, they’re both outside of Studio B2, Hanhae leaning against the wall and Kyung sprawled over the dark leather couch, his feet up on one of the armrests.
“What’s up?” says Jiho. “I’m not that late, am I?”
“You’re not, but he is,” says Hanhae, jerking his head toward the closed door of the studio. Jiho walks over to the door and leans against it, looking through the little window near the top.
“You’ll never guess who it is,” says Kyung from the couch.
At first Jiho just sees the guy in the recording booth, a round-faced kid with a bad haircut singing into the mic with his eyes closed. Then he sees that in front of the mixing board is a familiar red head of hair, and his jaw drops.
“No way. Is that Shinsadong Kitten?” he says, turning to Kyung.
“Apparently.”
Hanhae gives him a weird look. “Who?”
“Some guy who wanted Jiho on a track,” says Kyung.
“Well, whoever he is, he better be working on the fucking song to bring world peace in there. He said he’d be out ten minutes ago.”
“Jiho, tell him you’ll do the feature if he leaves.”
Jiho flips the bird at Kyung and knocks on the door. He notes the funk bassline coming from inside briefly before it pauses, and then the door opens.
Jinyoung’s eyes seem a little dazed. “Oh, Zico. Nice to see you,” he says, using Jiho’s stage name. “Do you want to come in and hear the song?”
“No, I want you out so we can work,” says Jiho. “And... Hold on. Did you really think I came here because of that? Wow.”
“Well, I mean, while you’re here...”
Jiho snorts and shakes his head. “The answer’s still no. Now, do you wanna pay for our time you’re taking up?”
Jinyoung looks at his watch. “Right, right. Sorry about that.” He walks over to the mixing board and leans over the mic to the booth. “Hey, Junghwan, let’s just pick this up again tomorrow. These guys are waiting.” He picks up his backpack from behind the chair, and waits for Junghwan to join him. Jiho turns and motions to Hanhae and Kyung, and they get up and follow him into the studio.
As Jinyoung passes Jiho on the way out, he stops and smiles at him. “I’ll think of a way to convince you eventually,” he says.
Jiho raises his eyebrows. Once Jinyoung’s out the door, he lets out a deep exhale. “Weird kid,” says Hanhae.
“Persistence is a virtue,” says Kyung. Hanhae snorts. “All right, let’s go.”
That night, Jiho looks up Jung Jinyoung on the songwriters’ database, then proceeds to enter the title of every song that comes up into Naver. The first few he finds are more or less what he expects: dance songs that are not badly composed, but not much beyond serviceable. One of them he recognizes right away - its trance beat has been following him from every accessories shop in Hongdae lately. Then there’s one recorded by a boy group that’s all about falling in love in a library, with a very literal MV to match, five well-groomed boys making alternately coy and shocked expressions behind hardcover books. Jiho eventually has to stop that one because the secondhand embarrassment is crushing him, but not before he forwards it to Kyung: The work of our Shinsadong Kitten!!
He’s about to give up when the words Acoustic Remix catch his eye, attached to a song called “Wonderful Tonight”. Jiho decides that it sounds interesting enough as a last stop on this stalking tour.
When he plays it, he realizes it's not a remix but a demo, with only a guitar and a throaty male voice. He guesses the voice belongs to the kid who Jinyoung had been recording at Match Up. The song doesn't sound bad in this form, less polished and less processed. But what makes him pay attention is when another voice appears, lighter and nasal, singing the second part of the chorus and then harmonizing with the first voice. After a moment, he realizes it’s Jinyoung.
It sounds a bit like his speaking voice with the bass taken out; it’s a little wobbly, but not breathy, and when he goes to the high notes it sounds like a plea. When they harmonize, the two voices round each other out, and Jiho finds himself amazed by the chord they make over the guitar strumming. He doesn’t know if he can say the song is good, but that sound resonates somewhere in his chest.
It’s still with him the next day when he receives a text that says, I got your number from the receptionist noona at the studio. I’m sorry for taking up your time yesterday. Can I make it up to you with drinks?
The chorus harmonies ring in his brain as he types back, Okay.
* * *
“What happened,” says Jinyoung, “was the company asked me to look for a rapper to guest on the song. A friend of mine sent me one of your mixtapes, and I was so impressed that I just wanted to meet you, never mind getting you onto a track.”
Jiho snorts. “You were impressed?” he says. “Shouldn’t you be the one trying to impress me?”
They’re in a bar in the quieter part of Hongdae, away from the nightclub crowds, drinking soju mixed with San Miguel that’s working faster on Jiho than he’s prepared to admit. “Am I not impressive enough for you already?” says Jinyoung, leaning back in his chair.
Jiho hides his grin in his drink. “So what was a big shot like you doing at Match Up, anyway? Don’t these labels have studios for you to work in?”
“Not for demo tracks,” Jinyoung replies as he grabs a piece of vegetable pancake. “Only once they know you have something for them, then they let you in. They’ll only give you things if they know they can get something out of it. But I like Match Up, anyway. It’s like my second home.” He laughs. “I’ve slept there I don’t know how many times.”
“Apparently you like to stay there way longer than you should, so I’m not surprised.”
“Hey, now.” Jinyoung hits his wrist, and his fingers pause momentarily against Jiho’s skin. It sends a tremor up Jiho’s arm, but when he looks up, Jinyoung lifts his hand and picks up his drink instead, his strange eyes shining over the rim of his glass.
Two bottles of soju and a plate of fried fish later they’re tripping over their own feet in the direction of Jiho’s building. “I can get a cab from there,” Jinyoung had said. Jiho holds onto Jinyoung’s skinny arm with both hands and fights the urge to sing Jinyoung’s songs back to him the whole way, but he throws in a choice line or two when he can, which results in Jinyoung giving him a noogie each time.
When they reach his building, he keeps holding onto Jinyoung’s arm. He looks at Jinyoung’s face, illuminated by the street lamp, and at the puffy clouds their breaths make in the late-fall air. Jinyoung looks back at him. “You live alone?” he says.
“Yeah,” says Jiho, not looking away from his eyes.
“Can I come up?” he asks, and it’s the first time Jiho’s heard that pleading, uncertain tone he has when he sings.
They don’t say a word to each other the whole way up to Jiho’s one-room apartment. As soon as they get inside, Jiho collapses onto his bed with a groan and Jinyoung stands and looks around for a place to put his coat.
“Just drop it,” says Jiho, “and come here.”
“Are you sure?” Jinyoung puts his coat down and sits down on the edge of the bed, watching Jiho. His cheeks are flushed red and his bangs are matted against his forehead. He’d make a funny-looking girl.
“I’m not gay, you know,” says Jiho. “But I just...”
“That’s okay,” says Jinyoung, leaning forward. He presses his lips to Jiho’s cheek and Jiho shuts his eyes. His lips are cold. “This is okay?” he murmurs next to his face.
“It’s okay,” says Jiho. He’s shaking.
Somehow, they end up with Jinyoung kneeling on the floor between his legs, one hand braced on Jiho’s thigh and a sly smile on his face. His thumb brushes against the tent of Jiho’s half-hard dick in his jeans and Jiho gasps. “You don’t have to,” he begins, “I’m not-” But Jinyoung shushes him.
“I know, I know,” he says. “Just let me do this. Please. For you.”
Jiho watches him fiddle with his zipper, and there’s a feeling of alarm rising in his chest as he remembers something Jinyoung had said earlier. “This isn’t... This doesn’t mean I owe you, you know,” he mumbles. “You can’t just...” A distant voice in his brain tells him that talking is a bad idea right now, but the words tumble out of his mouth anyway. “You can’t just blow me so I’ll give you what you want.”
Jinyoung pauses and looks up.
“I mean, it’d be nice, I’ll take it,” Jiho continues, even as his brain is going shut up shut up just shut up. “But if you think it’s going to change my mind, it’s not. You know?”
Jinyoung stares at him. “Seriously?” He pushes himself to his feet. “Nobody’s even brought that up all night. Do you really think that’s what...” He trails off, the back of his hand against his mouth. Jiho tries to reply, but after all that he’s run out of words. Finally Jinyoung laughs into his hand, with a strained smile. “All right. I guess we’re done here, then. Good night.”
And Jiho feels terribly sober all of a sudden, like the haze is draining down out of his head and into his limbs and stomach, replacing the anxious feeling from before. It makes his body heavy and traps him there on the bed as he listens to Jinyoung tightening the laces of his shoes, and how the quick, deliberate way he ties them sounds like a drumroll.
It’s only after the door has closed behind him that Jiho’s head rolls back against the wall and he groans. “Fuck.”
* * *
I think it’s my turn to buy you a drink.
I hope you’re not working too hard.
Hello??
Jiho sighs as he closes his sent text message folder and rolls over on his bed. It’s been almost a week and he hasn’t heard anything from Jinyoung: not about the feature, not about recording, not even to yell at him.
He hasn’t told anyone else about it, feeling too embarrassed about the circumstances. Kyung had returned his message about the library song with a laugh: I’ll anticipate your big debut. Jiho definitely couldn’t tell him that he’s been replaying Jinyoung’s demo, listening to the catch of his voice and thinking of the insistent way he had said, Let me do this for you. But that just turns into remembering the look on his face before he had left Jiho’s apartment the week before, and that makes him feel ill.
It’s almost been a week. That’s long enough, he tells himself. He looks through his phone and hesitates over the number saved as Match Up. “Don’t be such a fucking girl,” he reprimands himself, before pressing down and holding the phone up to his ear.
According to the receptionist, Jinyoung’s in Studio B1 this time. Jiho knocks on the door, peering through the window. When Jinyoung sees him, he holds up one finger to Jiho, then leans in and says something into the booth mic. The faint music coming from inside thumps to a stop, and Jinyoung gets up and opens the door.
“Are we over time again?” he asks before Jiho can say anything. His voice and face are calm and neutral. “We’ll be wrapping up soon, I promise...”
“No, no,” says Jiho. “Look, I.” He swallows. “I’m sorry about what happened last Friday.”
Jinyoung’s lips tighten. He steps outside the studio and closes the door behind him. “Yeah, me too,” he says, leaning against the door and crossing his arms. “But can we just say we both drank too much and move on?”
“No, I mean I’m sorry about what I said,” says Jiho quickly. “And... And what I thought about you. It wasn’t right of me and I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” says Jinyoung, nodding slowly. “Thanks for coming by, Jiho. I’m gonna go back to work now.”
“Wait,” says Jiho, holding out one hand, and he winces at the desperation in his voice. Jinyoung turns, one hand still on the doorknob.
“Look, Jiho.” His voice is quiet, but quavers a little. “I work hard. There’s no formula, there’s no machine where you press a button and a hit single comes out. Maybe you think that’s how it works, I don’t know. Sometimes I wish that’s how it worked. But even if it’s sappy or cliché or whatever, it doesn’t mean I haven’t put effort into it, and-”
“Even the songs about hot librarians?” Jiho cuts in. Jinyoung stops mid-sentence, then laughs once, incredulously.
“You listened to that one, did you?”
“I listened to them all,” says Jiho. He steps closer and Jinyoung doesn’t move away. “And you know what? They’re not bad. I mean, not my style, of course. But that one song,” he says, and he chews on his lip, steeling himself. Jinyoung watches him, waiting. “That one song, ‘Wonderful Tonight’, I heard the version where you sing. And.”
Jinyoung raises an eyebrow. “And?”
Jiho takes a deep breath. “And I’d... I want to hear you sing more. I want to hear you more, in general. Be around you.” He stares at Jinyoung’s forearm resting against the door so he doesn’t have to look at his face. “So if being on this song is the only way I’m going to get to see you, because I totally understand if you don’t want to hang out with me anymore, then maybe... Maybe I’ll give it a shot.” He lets out his breath, his gaze all the way down at his shoes now, his hands clammy where they’re jammed in the pockets of his hoodie. Then he looks up hesitantly.
And Jinyoung is smiling. It’s not the polite smile from when they first met, nor is it the tight smile from a week ago; it’s softer and less clearly defined than both, and it goes all the way up to his eyes. “Apology accepted,” he says, and relief rushes through Jiho so fast it knocks the wind out of him a little.
“Okay. Great,” he gulps. “I mean, no promises, but.”
“Of course.” Jinyoung pushes at the door, then stops. “Actually, we’re doing a guide vocal for the song right now,” he says. “Do you want to hear it? If you’re free, that is...”
Jiho nods. “Yeah, I’m free.” He can’t even remember if that’s true or not. If it isn’t, it doesn’t matter.
“Come in, then.” Jinyoung gestures with his head at the door and Jiho walks toward him. Then Jinyoung reaches into the pocket of Jiho’s hoodie and takes his hand. Jiho wishes his palms weren’t so sweaty, but he laces his fingers with Jinyoung’s anyway, and his breath quickens a little. Jinyoung squeezes his hand, smiles at him, then lets go and pushes open the door.
notes:
- anonymous commenting is on
- i hope this isn't too badly ooc
- the songwriters' database is real and my favourite thing