Round 8: Your Every Desire (TEAM AU - Part 4/5)

[dashboarding]

four

After muttering a quick goodbye to Junho and Chansung as practise drew to a close, Wooyoung all but runs back to Dreamhouse, excited to talk to Nichkhun as soon as possible. The lights in the first floor are darkened, and Wooyoung unlocks the front door swiftly, hurrying to the Employees Only section where he knows Nichkhun will be.

Sure enough, the door to the mysterious white room is open, the bright light streaming outwards into the small hallway, causing long shadows by the furniture in the kitchen. Wooyoung steps closer, hesitant now of approaching the room too quickly, like he had last time. Nichkhun is inside, sitting on a chair by the white table. He has his hands in his lap, and is mumbling something under his breath as he stares at the third, half-empty jar. The crack that Wooyoung had made is evident even from where Wooyoung is standing, outside the entrance, and -- is it his imagination? Or does the split looks bigger? Deeper than he'd remembered. And the illuminated pulsing of the red liquid seems much weaker than the other two jars, and Wooyoung knows this, at least, is not a trick of the eyes.

As he tiptoes into the room, he can better make out the words Nichkhun is mumbling -- they are recognizable, even though Wooyoung doesn't understand the meaning of them. It's the song from the CD. As Wooyoung listens, Nichkhun's voice rises and falls and even cracks uncomfortably at a high note as he tries to sing. Nichkhun's singing that song to the broken jar.

Wooyoung clears his throat.

Nichkhun's head whips around, startled. "Wooyoung! I wasn't expecting you back for another few minutes." Wooyoung sees his Adam’s apple bob.

"I ran back here. I--" Wooyoung swallows too, the memory of that morning's kiss now rushing back to the forefront. "I wanted to talk about things."

"Oh. Okay." Nichkhun smiles, turning back to the broken jar for a second. "What about?" He doesn't leave his chair.

"About... making a transaction," Wooyoung says. “There’s a contest coming up, Junho’s brother’s agency organized it, and I’m going to enter it, with Chansung and Junho. It’s... it’s a really good opportunity for people like me, who are trying to make their way in the industry--" oh God, he thinks, how pathetic is he sounding right now, blabbing on like this.

“And you wanted to make sure you won it, is that it?” Nichkhun asks, not unkindly.

“I -- could I?”

Something flickers across Nichkhun's eyelids and his smile turns a little strained at the edges. He hesitates before saying, "We can talk here, if you don't mind. You can grab a chair from the kitchen."

Wooyoung does, feeling strange and unbalanced. The last time he'd been in here he'd broken things -- he feels like one wrong move and he could trash something else. He sidles a little closer to Nichkhun, just in case.

"Where's Junsu?" he asks.

"He went home, to record the song. Says he'll be back tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh. Good."

"Yes. I was very fortunate he came by today."

Fortunate is not exactly the word that Wooyoung would have used to describe Nichkhun's situation, but it works.

"Are you curious about the room?" Nichkhun asks, eyes still firmly locked on the broken jar. Wooyoung doesn't answer right away, unsure if it's a trick question or something (who would not wonder about this room, seriously, was Nichkhun stupid) and uneager to say the wrong thing to Nichkhun right now. But Nichkhun flicks his gaze to Wooyoung just for an instant, and he doesn't look mocking. He just looks tired.

"You don't have to tell me," Wooyoung says, and he means it.

Nichkhun shakes his head. "You've already seen it, after all. You know," he says, lips quirking up at the corners, "not even Taec has been in this room. And I knew him for almost a year before he made that deal with me."

Something in Wooyoung's chest tightens. "Oh," he says lamely.

"Yeah." Nichkhun stops talking after that, although he continues to hum his lost song tunelessly for a while longer, and brings his hands up to cup the broken jar gently, reverently. Wooyoung remembers those long fingers curling around his own head and flushes.

After a minute of humming, Nichkhun says, "This room is the heart of my shop. It's -- the power centre of it, I guess. It's what helps me make my sales, and helps me read other people's desires."

Wooyoung doesn't know how to reply to that, other than another "oh." But he looks around the white room with a renewed appreciation, an awed respect and interest.

"Yeah. You keep on joking that this shop is magic, and I don't really agree, but maybe that's because I've grown up in my parent's shop, which does the same thing as mine. I don't know how to describe it other than magic, though. It's just," Nichkhun pauses. "It's just the way it works. I'm sorry I can't make it make sense to you."

"No," Wooyoung gapes. "That's okay, I don't -- you don't owe me anything explanations."

Nichkhun laughs, amused. "Yeah, that's true. So, you said you wanted to talk."

"Yes," Wooyoung clears his throat again, feeling a rush of awkwardness. "Before, when we'd talked... you'd mentioned you could do... things for me."

Nichkhun's eyelids droop slightly as he mumbles, "Fame, power, wealth, knowledge, talent -- anything and everything, for the right price." He looks at Wooyoung again, as if just coming to an important thought. "It's not everything though, actually. I can't undo transactions; once it’s done, it’s done. I can do most anything else -- go back in time, erase memories, change events -- as long as I don’t undo anyone’s transaction Um. It gets a little complicated to explain.”

Wooyoung reels -- he hadn't even imagined scenarios like that. "People have asked you to do that?" he asks, dumbfounded.

"Once or twice." Nichkhun says this like he's commenting on the weather. "Though they can’t always afford the price. You'd be surprised about what some people's darkest desires are," he adds thoughtfully, and Wooyoung suppresses a shudder at the casual tone of Nichkhun's voice. "But it's not really like many people know that my shop can do all that. I only tell the people who are really, really desperate for my help."

Oh. "Did you see me as one of those desperate people, then?" Wooyoung asks stiffly.

To his surprise, Nichkhun bursts out laughing. "Wooyoung! You! No, no. The first time I saw you -- I was in my shop and you were on your way to school -- you didn't look too happy."

"My face is always like that."

Nichkhun lips twitch again, threatening a smile. "And I remembered thinking, 'that guy could probably use someone to talk to.' But like... when you walked home, with that mob of girls, for example. You held yourself a little off from them. I guess I just thought you were used to being independent. I didn't think you needed anyone's help in particular." And here a small smile does break out. "Not until you knocked on my door that night. That's when I took it as my job to help you. People don't come to my shop for no reason, Wooyoung."

Wooyoung knows that. "Your life is a fucking fairy tale," he says with absolute conviction.

"As if," Nichkhun laughs, though he sounds pleased.

But it's true. It feels like it's true. Hadn't Nichkhun said before, that he wasn’t planning on coming to Korea? Of all the places in the world where Nichkhun could have set up shop, he chose this small neighbourhood, at the end of Wooyoung's raggedy street, and had been there for Wooyoung. Life isn't supposed to work out as perfectly as bedtime stories, and Wooyoung knows that, but somehow... there's a part of him, deep, deep inside, a tiny spark, which is currently glowing with happiness, latching onto the idea that Nichkhun's shop came to Seoul just to help Wooyoung.

Don't be foolish, Wooyoung silently berates himself. Is he really that self-absorbed?

"Why did you decide to come to Korea?" Wooyoung hears himself ask. Guess he is.

Nichkhun stiffens, and lowers his hands slowly from the jar to place them in his lap. "I'm looking for my friend. A past customer."

Now that, Wooyoung had not expected. "You?" he asks incredulously. "Why?"

"I made a," Nichkhun winces, "a bad sale."

But that doesn't make sense. "I thought your shop didn't work that way," Wooyoung says. "Isn't each sale you make deliberate?"

Nichkhun turns towards him fully, and his eyes are aching with something close to desperation. "Wooyoung, put yourself in my place. There was a friend, and he was very talented with something. And one day he got this chance of a lifetime, something that he'd worked hard for, something that would make him happy. But he was part of a group, and he was the only one who got that offer. His group, they misunderstood, they thought that he'd purposely gone out and secured this deal just for himself. So they cut him off from them. There were... fights. Things got complicated. And my friend, he felt really guilty about it. He couldn't stop thinking that he let his friends down. So he came to me. Wooyoung, tell me, what would you have done?"

"I..." Wooyoung swallows. "I guess I'd try to help him."

"Yes!" Nichkhun agrees, nodding. "Yes, exactly. I wanted to help. So when my friend said that he wanted to take the chance being offered to him and relocate to another country, he asked for me to erase his tracks, so he could start a new, better life, without anything plaguing him. I made a deal to help him disappear." Nichkhun's voice hardens. "But he lied. He hadn't wanted to leave the country to pursue his dream -- he'd wanted to save his family and friends by removing the drama he’d caused. Because if I made his tracks disappear by letting him start over, then that would of course cause his scandal disappear too."

Scandal? Wooyoung thinks. Why does that sound familiar?

Nichkhun is continuing, "He lied, but I didn't know. I only wanted to help him. We did what he wanted. I took him out of the life of everyone he knew, and I sent him here, on his own. It was only afterwards, when I saw his payment start to fall apart, that I realized what he'd done." The frustration that had been building up slowly as he'd spoken is now undeniable, his voice quivering, a large crease forming between his eyebrows. "Wooyoung, my shop works on equal transactions. The deal I made was to allow my friend to start his new career, but he didn't do that. He just wanted to get away, to protect the people he cared about, who he thought would be better off without his scandal troubling them. So the deal was not completed. It accomplished what he intended to do -- he disappeared, entirely -- but the specific wish he made was not carried out. It makes the transaction unstable. His payment is faulty. So the deal is breaking. Has been breaking."

"So you're trying to find him, for what? To tell him to get a move on and finish his end of the deal?"

"To save him, Wooyoung," Nichkhun whispers. "The deal is breaking."

Something in Nichkhun's expression is scaring Wooyoung in ways he doesn't quite understand. It’s as if a deep, yawning hole has opened wide in the pit of his stomach and dread is pouring outwards from it, pouring outwards until his entire body seems to be vibrating with it.

"What was his payment?" Wooyoung asks, even though he's afraid of the answer.

Nichkhun laughs bitterly, and turns back to his jar. He raises his fingers once more to cup the glass, half-covering the glowing red liquid inside. "Can't you figure it out? You need a heart to read a heart, after all." He lightly traces the crack in the glass -- which, yes, is larger now, definitely larger than it had been when Wooyoung had first entered this room tonight. "This is my friend's heart. And it's dying."

What? What?

"Heart?" Wooyoung repeats, tasting the word on his tongue. "His heart?" The red light emitting from all three of the jars seem to pulse together in response: ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. Heartbeats.

"Not his physical heart," Nichkhun says. "But his energy and emotions that gives rise to his heart's desire. My friend, he... he asked for something big. It cost him a lot."

"Then--" Wooyoung points an accusing finger at the other two jars. "Whose are those then!"

One side of Nichkhun's lips curls, just the tiniest bit. "Can't you tell?" he asks. He points to the middle jar, the tallest one. "This is Taec's." He points to the one furthest away from him, and it's only now that Wooyoung notices that the glass of that jar is nicked and scratched, dusty and old. "And that one," Nichkhun says, "is mine."

This is impossible, Wooyoung thinks. This makes no sense, this is preposterous, this whole thing is preposterous. He needs to wake up from his dream, right now. Right. Now.

Wooyoung blinks hard. Nothing changes. He's still sitting beside Nichkhun in a white room with what is apparently three hearts in glass jars. Oh God.

"I came here to look for my friend," Nichkhun is saying, but his words float over Wooyoung's ears in a haze. "Since he'd wished to be sent to Korea. Probably thought he could actually start a new life here, that idiot. But I need to bring him home. The deal he made was weak because what he wished for wasn't really what he wanted. Since the transaction didn't go through, his heart isn't connected to the shop, not really. I need to give it back to him, before it dies. He’ll die too.”

Die?

“I--" Nichkhun takes a deep breath. "I play that song because my friend wrote it and sang it, so it carries a bit of his essence. I thought it would be enough to keep the heart pumping until I found him, but now..." he looks at Wooyoung. "Well."

Insane. This is insane. "Can't -- can't you just wish the heart back to him or something?" Wooyoung asks.

"I can't undo a transaction," Nichkhun repeats, as if by rote. "The shop has its set of rules that can't be broken. It took - his mother had to make a deal with me, for me to be able to come to Korea, when the shop is supposed to be back in the States. Um. That's another long story."

"If you find your friend, then--"

"When I find my friend," Nichkhun corrects sharply, "I'm going to offer him a deal. Just like I always do."

What kind of shop is this, Wooyoung thinks frantically. What kind of business is Nichkhun carrying out here?

"Is -- what is Ok Taecyeon?" Wooyoung demands. "You say that's his heart? What was that person we met in the shop then? Was he not a happy, healthy Ok Taecyeon? Didn’t you make his dreams come true?"

"Oh, yes, he had his dream come true," Nichkhun nods. "But he was faking how happy he was, I think. Or should I say, he was trying his best to be happy. His deal was completed so he gets a lot of satisfaction from his job and career and fame, but he's not truly happy. I'm pretty sure he's just sleeping with as many girls as possible because he's trying to find one he actually cares about deeply." Nichkhun shakes his head. "He won't succeed. Not as long as his heart is here."

Wooyoung cannot believe this. This is not -- this isn't how it was supposed to be. Nichkhun's shop is supposed to be a happy place. "What are you saying?" he asks, and is disgusted at how weak his own voice sounds. "You're saying that if I want something badly enough, I have to sacrifice my happiness for it?”

"No," Nichkhun says. "I'm saying that if you want something big, you have to expect to pay a lot for it. And there is a difference between the price of a wish, and the cost of getting it granted. Taec wanted a shortcut to get fame and fortune and the only thing he had worth that was his heart. The cost of him losing his heart is that he will not be truly happy with what he has. He knew about this. I explained it to him, and he said the price was worth it. He still thinks so. It's not like he's depressed. He's just not... perfectly happy. He never will be. I think it’s enough for him."

"But you're ruining people's happy endings!" Wooyoung yells, shoving himself out of the chair. He's furious, suddenly. Furious at the ridiculousness of the situation, furious at Nichkhun promising Wooyoung that he could fix things, change things for the better, furious at himself for letting him get swept up in the promise of it all, only to find out that, of course, of course, there’s a catch. Of course Wooyoung couldn't get his dream come true, just like that. This is Nichkhun's fault -- Nichkhun with his charming, innocent smile, Nichkhun with his earnest need to help Wooyoung -- has it all been fake? Nichkhun has been taking away people's happiness, and the thought makes Wooyoung sick.

"Happy endings?" Nichkhun asks him, eyebrows rising. "I don't make those kinds of promises. I sell you what you want, that's all."

"You sell people exactly what they want and then you take away their enjoyment of it?"

Nichkhun's eyes go cold. "Did you ever see me do that? Did you ever see me take away the enjoyment of a single customer that came to my shop?"

Wooyoung clenches his teeth together. "No," he admits.

"If you ask for a lot, you have to be prepared to pay a lot," says Nichkhun. "I don't have any evil motives, if that's what you think. All I can do is take the price equal to what it is you want. I can't help if people get greedy and ask for more than they can handle."

Wooyoung doesn’t like the way this conversation is going at all. Nichkhun is sounding less and less like a friendly shopkeeper and more like a ruthless businessman; Wooyoung hadn't even known there was this side to Nichkhun. Wooyoung's head is spinning. He's starting to realize that what little knowledge he has of Nichkhun has never been the full picture. He didn't make trades. Nichkhun took things from people.

"You need hearts to run your store," Wooyoung says. "Are you saying that it doesn't benefit you to make those deals? You want to stay in business, don't you?"

Nichkhun turns away quickly, jerkily. "My job is to make people's dreams come true," he mutters.

"And take away their love for it, apparently," Wooyoung snaps, and is gratified to see Nichkhun flinch. Then he is nearly overcome with a wave of self-loathing. Nichkhun - this is nice, pleasant, warm Nichkhun, who'd promised to never hurt Wooyoung, to grant Wooyoung's heart’s desire -

Wooyoung’s heart--

"Oh God, is that why you wanted me to stay?" Wooyoung whispers in horror, pushing himself to his feet. He understands; it makes sense. "That -- your friend's heart is dying. And -- and you need another heart, to replace it. You tricked me into wanting all that -- that stuff, and then you were going to take my heart so your shop can survive."

Now Nichkhun is looking horrified too. "I wasn't!" he says, standing up as well. "I wouldn't do that!"

"What would have me pay, then, if I had asked -- if I'd asked to win the competition--"

"Whatever you were willing to give," Nichkhun says, reaching for Wooyoung's wrist. "I wouldn't have--"

Wooyoung takes a large step back. Nichkhun's eyelids lower, and he drops his arm. "What if I'd wanted it?" he gasps. "What if I'd made that deal with you? Would you have done it? Taken my -- my--" he can't do it. He can't even say it.

There is a long moment of silence. Wooyoung's breaths are very loud in the quiet room. They stare at each other until Nichkhun drops his gaze to the ground. "I don't know," Nichkhun says, very softly. "If you had offered, I might have. It might have been the only thing that could act as equal payment. You were asking for a lot. But I really wanted -- want, I really want you to be happy, Wooyoung."

"If you'd done that," Wooyoung cries, waving a hand to the three red jars on the table, "I never would have been happy for the rest of my life! I'd become famous for my dancing and then realize I didn't love it anymore!"

"Wooyoung." Nichkhun says, very carefully. "Let's say that you got a contract with a talent agency, and became a professional dancer. What kind of life are you expecting?"

"I -- what?" Wooyoung stutters, caught off guard by the sudden question.

"You get your heart's desire. Then what?"

"I'd. I'd get to dance every day, without worrying about -- things." Family, Wooyoung doesn't say, though he suspects he doesn't need to. The forward tilt of Nichkhun's head already shows he understands. "I wouldn’t have to live at home anymore. I'd earn enough money to support my grandmother, if she needs to go to the hospital again. I wouldn't have to go to university and suffer through a degree I don't want. I'd be... I would be happy."

All Wooyoung has ever wanted.

"What if you were asked to get plastic surgery to make you better looking?" Nichkhun asks him nonchalantly. "Would you do it?"

"Huh? What does that have to do with--"

But Nichkhun plows on. "What if you were pressured to take drugs, in order to keep your body's abilities better than the competition? What if your talent agency overworked you to the point of exhaustion? What if you got death threats from anti-fans? If you only could dance to music you hated, not hip hop? What if you saw your manager making a bribe, but you were forced to keep quiet, in order to keep your job? How would you deal with any corruption you come across in the industry? What if you were asked to perform sexual favours, to get another contract? Would you? How much are you willing to take, to continue with your dream?"

Wooyoung's shaking. "Why are you asking me these things?"

"Because I know about the cost of everything!" Nichkhun sighs in exasperation, running a hand across his face. "Everything comes at a price, Wooyoung. You think that when you become a dancer, every aspect of your life is going to be perfect, like you’re going to be transported to some wonderful land where everything is just right. It's not, Wooyoung. Real life doesn't work like that; real life has ugly parts, bumpy parts, and that's not going to change no matter who you are or where you go. There are bad aspects to everything. The best you can do is to find a balance, and be willing to take the bad with the good. You can't just expect things to magically work out without any problems, like a fairy tale, like -- like a happily ever after! You need to grow up! Are you hoping that if you become a professional, your father will finally accept you?"

Wooyoung chokes.

Something sharp and jagged slams itself into his gut, and presses down hard. He starts to inch backwards, eye prickling, heart hammering too loudly behind his ribcage, breaths coming in shallow pants. Too far, he thinks. This has gone on too far. Wooyoung hadn't wanted to hear this, any of this.

"Wooyoung," Nichkhun says, going ashen. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"That's enough," Wooyoung says raggedly, scrunching his eyes closed. "I've heard enough." He pivots on his heel and stumbles out of the room, ignoring Nichkhun calling for him to come back.

Wooyoung never should have come here in the first place.

Of course the boy was curious about what the sorcerer did while he was locked away in his secret rooms, but he did not think it was his place to pry. He trusted his friend, and he was grateful to be given board at his friend's wonderful castle, and he did not want to risk the chance that he might be kicked out of the kingdom and made to go home.

One evening the door to the sorcerer’s secret chambers was left open, and though it was not the boy's intention to peek in, he could not help himself. The sorcerer, hurrying back to the rooms, shouted at him, Stop! but it was too late, the boy had already stepped inside, and he was amazed at what he saw: the entire room was lined with shelves upon shelves, each bearing countless glass jars of various sizes and colours, each labelled with a name. And the boy knew without a doubt that those jars held a bit of magic from each citizen in this realm, and this secret room was the source of the magic for the sorcerer. He was getting his power from the people, like a parasite. The magic had no noble source -- and there was no glory in this, siphoning off other peoples' energy to use for oneself. The boy turned to look at the sorcerer with new eyes, and saw not a powerful wizard but a selfish man, and as if realizing his betrayal, the entire castle began crumbling apart around the boy, falling to rubble at his feet, and when the boy looked around in horror, he saw that his surroundings were no longer a beautiful, magical kingdom, but a dark, ominous forest, its sharp, leafless tree branches reaching down to stab at the boy's skin.

The boy had never left the forest. There was no magical kingdom. It had been a lie, all along.

The sorcerer was there, watching the boy with sad eyes. He said, I'm sorry. He said, I only wanted to help. He said, I wanted you to be happy.

The boy said, You've ruined my happy ending, and ran as far from the sorcerer as he could.

He runs to the community centre. Doesn't think, doesn't consider the options, just runs and runs until his lungs burn with fatigue and not betrayal, until his eyes sting with the rush of air on them and not the threat of tears, until his screaming mind is quieted by the steady pounding of Wooyoung's feet on the ground.

It's late. The building is deserted, though the lights are on, as they always are. Wooyoung staggers over to the set of folding chairs stacked in the corner of the room, pries one open, and collapses onto it. He leans his elbows on his knees and thrusts fingers through his hair, pulling sharply. Shit. Shit. Why is he always running away? Why is everything beautiful in his life always ruined eventually? It's not fair. If Nichkhun is someone -- something -- that came here to aid Wooyoung, then what has Wooyoung done to deserve this? Is this his slap in the face by reality, his thanks-very-much-for-playing-but-fuck-you wake up call?

Nichkhun's voice echoes in his mind like heavy bells, each word a distinct thud of pain, ringing, again and again.

You can't just expect things to magically work out without any problems, like a fairy tale, like -- like a happily ever after!

You need to grow up!

Are you hoping that if you become a professional, your father will finally accept you?

Wooyoung doesn't know. Wooyoung has no idea what he was hoping for. A bubble of hysterical laughter makes his way up his throat and Wooyoung tries to swallow it back down, but it's relentless: the entire situation is morbidly hilarious. There Wooyoung was, naively thinking that he'd finally found the solution to all his problems, thinking that he'd finally found a person who Wooyoung could trust fully and not be hurt by, but it was all a sham. False advertising. Wooyoung should have known that nothing that good could have come to him for free.

His father, and now Nichkhun -- seems like any man who Wooyoung lives with ends up destroying Wooyoung's dreams. Is it Wooyoung's fault? He's the common factor in both equations. Is Wooyoung wrong for wishing for a good future, where he is doing what he loves and his family is proud of him? Because Nichkhun was right, fuck, Nichkhun was right about what he said. Junho has told him horror stories of how cruel the industry can be, how there have been several times when his brother had come that close to quitting entirely. Wooyoung had listened, had been scared, but Rain was in such a different level of existence that Wooyoung hadn't realized the same sort of trials could also happen to him.

And Wooyoung knows this too: his father disapproves of Wooyoung's dancing. He's not going to just change his mind if Wooyoung starts bringing in a bit of money for it.

Maybe Wooyoung had been expecting a fairy tale ending. His happy ending. Wooyoung had thought that as soon as he escaped from his dead-end life here, he'd -- he'd pass through into a new world, with warm, fulfilling days, and fun at night, where he could wake up every morning excited to go to work and go to sleep every night satisfied that he'd lived his life exactly the way he'd always wanted to, no loss, no compromise. Where he could laugh with Junho and Chansung without having to hide anything from them. Where he could be someone, instead of quiet, sarcastic Jang Wooyoung who scowls at anybody and everybody. He would be Wooyoung with the talent, with the bright smile, with the supportive family.

He'd be a better, stronger person than he is now.

Wooyoung doesn't realize his laughter has degenerated into sobs until he raises his hands from his face. They're damp from sweat and tears and snot, and Wooyoung feels disgusted with himself. Pitiful. Weak. His mouth really is the most dangerous part of him; dig a little deeper under the skin and Wooyoung is soft inside, scared and vulnerable.

What in the world is he going to do now? Unbidden, another wrack of sobs start to heave through him, his cheeks burning from the hot tears streaming down his face.

"Wooyoung!" someone says from behind him, and a strong hand lands on his shoulder. Wooyoung jerks away, nearly toppling off the chair, and looks up into the startled eyes of Park Jaebeom.

"Hyung," he sniffs, hurriedly wipes his face with his sleeve, ashamed to be seen like this. Not Jaebeom, his mind chances, anyone but Jaebeom -- not the person who Wooyoung admires the most.

Jaebeom's expression darkens like a thunderstorm and Wooyoung tries not to flinch when his hands are grabbed tightly, forced to his sides. "What happened?" he demands. "Who did this to you?"

"Nothing, no one, it's fine," Wooyoung babbles, blinking rapidly to prevent more tears from falling.

Jaebeom shakes his head fiercely. "I might not be too smart, but I'm not a full idiot, Wooyoung. Someone hurt you. Talk to me, come on."

"I can't," Wooyoung forces himself to say. "It's not -- I don't want to--"

Jaebeom kneels down in front of him and Wooyoung stares blankly as he throws his backpack off his shoulders and takes out a neatly folded white t-shirt, which he carefully presses to Wooyoung's left cheek, then to the right one. Wooyoung's hand goes up to hold it unconsciously and Jaebeom smiles gently. "Dry your tears, yeah? Sorry. Kind of shitty of me to make you talk when you're still upset about it."

He’s giving up his own shirt for Wooyoung to wipe his face clean of snot, Wooyoung realizes.

Wooyoung feels another wave of tears rise up, this time nothing to do with disappointment or anger or hopelessness. Jaebeom stands up and grabs another rickety metal chair and plops down beside him, immediately slouching. He waits patiently for Wooyoung to stop crying and even takes a water bottle out of his bag, to share with Wooyoung. When Wooyoung hiccups and spills a little of it on his chin, Jaebeom laughs a bit and slides a hand around Wooyoung's shoulders, squeezing comfortingly. The hand stays put until Wooyoung stops shaking.

When Wooyoung finally feels it safe to speak, he asks, "What are you doing here? You didn't come to practise today." His voice, though soft, sounds unbearably loud in the large, empty building.

Jaebeom sighs. "I didn't want to come and drag you guys down. I've been feeling a bit crappy lately." And for the first time, Wooyoung notices the sickly tint to Jaebeom's skin, the way that he breathes with an open mouth, the thinness to his voice. His wrist bones are sharp under his skin and Wooyoung thinks he's lost weight. "I come here to relax though. It reminds me of home, kind of," he says, then turns his face away to hack out several wet coughs. "Sorry," he mumbles, wiping his mouth.

"You should be at home resting, if you're sick," Wooyoung frowns.

"I'm not taking advice from you looking like that," Jaebeom sniggers, "but whatever, I know you're right. I just... I don't really care, anymore. I'm sick no matter what I do, so I might as well be sick in a place I like, right?"

"You -- you don't like to be at home?" Wooyoung asks, and something tiny flutters within him, under his breastbone.

"I love it," Jaebeom says without hesitation, and the fluttering feeling shrivels away. "But home is a long way from here," Jaebeom continues, shrugging awkwardly. "I can't exactly go back."

The feeling resurges, stronger than before. "Did you run away too?" Wooyoung asks in a rush. "From home, I mean."

"Too?" Jaebeom asks, eyebrows rising.

Wooyoung freezes. "Uh. I--"

"You ran away," Jaebeom states flatly, and Wooyoung flushes with embarrassment, unable to protest. Jaebeom rubs his chin with his fingers as he looks at Wooyoung thoughtfully. "Huh," he says. "That was kind of stupid of you."

"Shut up!" Wooyoung shouts, making himself and Jaebeom jump. Wooyoung slaps a hand to his mouth. "Sorry, I didn't mean -- I'm kind of messed up, right now."

"Tell me about it," Jaebeom jokes, and despite himself, Wooyoung lets out a small laugh. Jaebeom's face brightens. "There now," he says, giving Wooyoung another one-armed hug, "see, it's not all bad. Turn the negative into a positive, that's what I say."

"Is that why you came halfway across the world to Korea?"

Wooyoung had meant it as a joke too, but Jaebeom flinches, as if Wooyoung had just struck him. "You could say that," he admits, before Wooyoung thinks to apologize. "I... there was trouble at home. It was my fault. I didn't want to make it worse, so I left. It wasn't anything--" he pauses for a fresh onslaught of coughs and Wooyoung patiently waits it out. "The whole thing was stupid, anyway," Jaebeom finishes, sounding mulish. "I don't like Korea at all, but whatever, it's worth it to be here." He repeats that, more firmly. "It's worth it to be here."

"What happened at home?" Wooyoung asks. He's not sure what he'd like to hear Jaebeom say. Some sort of situation similar to Wooyoung's own? He doesn't know if it'd help Wooyoung's own mess, but he thinks that he'd like it to.

"Complicated stuff," Jaebeom says, eyes flitting back and forth nervously. "I got... I got offered something, something big, but I didn't tell my family and friends right away, because I wasn't sure what I should do with my con-- with what I won. When my friends found out, they... misunderstood my keeping quiet, I guess. Thought I was planning on betraying them. Anyway. They got upset, I got upset, and I didn't want to make more people upset, so I just left." He licks his lips. "Uh, yeah. So that's what happened."

"That was a horrible recount," Wooyoung says blandly.

Jaebeom snorts. "I'm not a good speaker, I know that. You give it a try, then. Teach me how to tell a proper story."

Later, Wooyoung will say that he had no idea what possessed him to share his story to Jaebeom like that; all he knew was that one second he was pursing his lips together, searching for the right phrasing so he wouldn't give away himself entirely, and the next he was already talking. "Once upon a time there was a stupid little boy, and he liked to dance. His dad hated it, so the stupid boy ran away from home in order to dance whenever he wanted. The boy met a new kid, and the new kid invited the boy to stay with him. Gradually, they became friends. The new kid said that he could make is so the boy could dance to his heart's content, but this guy was a swindler and a thief and he lied, and when the stupid boy found out the kid lied, he felt stupid, and ran away from his friend. Now the kid has run away from his problems twice and has no clue what to do next."

Jaebeom's mouth drops open. "What in actual fuck," he says. "What was that supposed to be?"

Wooyoung tries to smile, but fails. "A fairy tale."

"Why?"

"I like them." Wooyoung raises his chin.

After a pregnant pause, Jaebeom says, "I do too. I used to watch Disney all the time as a kid."

"What was your favourite movie?"

"Hercules. Yours?"

"Cinderella," Wooyoung answers softly. "I liked Sleeping Beauty too. The Little Mermaid."

Jaebeom laughs. "Secret desire to be a Disney princess, Wooyoung?"

Wooyoung shoves him, but his lips twitch too.

Jaebeom takes another coughing break and when he straightens, his face is sober. "Do Junho and Chansung know that you'd run away from home? Both homes, I guess?"

"No," Wooyoung shakes his head. "I didn't want them... judging me, I guess. They're my friends. I don't need pity and stuff from them."

"They won't do that," Jaebeom says. "Like you said, they're your friends. You should -- look, I know it's not really my place to say, but I think you should be open with your friends. They care about you. They'd want to help."

"But there's nothing they can do for me."

Jaebeom narrows his eyes. "Wooyoung. Just having people listen is helpful. They won't... you know, they won't look down on you or anything, for asking for help."

Wooyoung doesn't reply.

"Take it from me, Wooyoung. Running away from home is shit. Your parents love you, don't they?"

"...yes," Wooyoung whispers.

"So they'll be happy if you go back. Talk with your parents."

"You don't understand," Wooyoung says, a little too harshly. "My father doesn't listen to me. What I say to him won't matter."

"And I'm sure he's so totally understanding what you're going through, when he doesn't see you at all."

"It's -- you don't know what he's like, he's just so frustrating--"

"He's your dad," Jaebeom says simply. "You can't fight against family."

Wooyoung grips the t-shirt in his hands, fabric twisting under his fingers. "We do fight, though. And I never win. And I don't know what to do anymore, to make him see how much I like dancing. And now, with this new mess, I don't even know if I want to risk all this stuff just to dance, but it's too late, because I've already run away--" he gulps, feeling himself get overwhelmed again.

"Hey, hey, Wooyoung, it's okay, it's okay," Jaebeom says, alarmed. He reaches out and rubs a hand soothingly on Wooyoung's back until Wooyoung controls himself. "Take all the time you need. No one says you have to know exactly what to do right away, to solve all your problems. This is real life, right? Not some story book. What we decide to do -- the choices we have to make, they're not going to be as clear cut as all that. You just... do what you think is right, and hope for the best. You might not get everything we want, but that's okay. If you believe in the work you put into what you did, then that should be enough for things to work out."

Wooyoung gawks. “That’s the smartest thing I’ve ever heard you say, hyung.”

“I’m special like that,” Jaebeom grins. “But do you get what I’m saying?”

Wooyoung nods slowly. "Everything comes at a price," he mutters to himself, recalling Nichkhun's words from earlier. He swipes a hand across his eyes. "It's just a question of what to give up for what you want."

Jaebeom bursts out laughing, his voice strong and clear, bouncing off the walls of the community centre. "Sorry. For a second, you sounded just like this guy I knew." He gaze unfocuses as he looks into the distance. "I wonder what he's been up to lately."

They talk for a little while longer, neither of them willing to part company just yet. Wooyoung doesn't manage to convince Jaebeom to sign up for Rain's talent competition (for some reason, after Wooyoung had explained it, Jaebeom went very white and had vehemently protested against going anywhere near the event), but after some whining, he'd at least relented to show up and watch Wooyoung, Junho and Chansung's try-outs. ("This is a very bad idea," he'd griped, and Wooyoung had rolled his eyes, saying, "Are you kidding me? You'll like it.") Jaebeom asks multiple times if Wooyoung is going to be okay, until Wooyoung gets fed up and asks Jaebeom if he's going to be okay, and wasn't he looking quite peaky lately, maybe he should force Jaebeom to call a doctor? Jaebeom shuts up at that, but his eyes curve into amused crescents. Neither of them were the type to enjoy people fussing over them.

"You're a cool guy, Wooyoung," Jaebeom tells him, smiling. "I'm glad I met you."

"I think you're delusional," Wooyoung replies. "I'm stubborn to a fault and can get pretty arrogant if you let me, and my grandmother says I have poisonous cheeks because of the amount of insults I come up with. And I'm extremely selfish."

"Oh yeah?" Jaebeom laughs. "Well, I think you're funny, and you've always been nice to me, I dunno. Guess I've never pegged you as the selfish type. You weren't really talkative when we first met, you know? I liked you right away because you seemed like the type to listen to people before making dumb judgments about them."

Oh. "That's... not really true," Wooyoung mutters, ducking his head. "I can get pretty worked up about things."

"Yeah, but everyone does. That's normal."

Wooyoung frowns. "Not everyone. My friend, the one whose place I'm staying at, he's really good at controlling his emotions. He's always been very kind to me. And today, for example, when he said something I hadn't wanted to hear, I freaked out on him, and he apologized right away, but I was so upset--" he huffs angrily, rubbing his forehead. "He didn't deserve that. I'm the one causing all these problems in the first place."

"Hm." Jaebeom says, glancing at him calmly. He leans back in his chair, one foot tapping restlessly on the floor. "You should probably say you're sorry then."

Wooyoung's pessimism flares. "...What if he won't forgive me?"

Quick as a flash, Jaebeom reaches up and pinches Wooyoung's cheek. Wooyoung squeaks, flailing. "Ow! What are you doing!"

"Not forgive you?" Jaebeom says hotly. "Cute little Wooyoungie? He'd have to be a total asshole, for real. Is this guy a total asshole, Wooyoung?"

Wooyoung cups his cheek, blinking. Unwillingly, a small smile forms on his lips and he looks away as his cheeks flush. "No," he admits softly, the ghost of Nichkhun's soft kiss floating through his mind. "He's not."

Before they leave, Wooyoung has to face utter humiliation by returning Jaebeom's t-shirt, now soggy with who-knows-what, but Jaebeom tells him not to worry about it. "That's what washing machines are for, man," he grins, and Wooyoung feels better. Actually, he feels a lot better in general, after talking with Jaebeom, and Wooyoung's respect for the other boy grows even more. The lingering warmth from Jaebeom's parting clasp of the back carries with him on Wooyoung's walk back to Nichkhun's shop.

It's past one am, the lights are darkened, but Wooyoung's key slips in the lock, smooth as butter, just like it always does. The bells clang ominously as Wooyoung pushes the door open, and as soon as he steps inside, Nichkhun's slamming out of the back room, half of his hair sticking up from his forehead, his apron messily hanging off his shoulders. Wooyoung stares back. With the light framing him from behind, his large eyes luminescent in the darkness, Nichkhun almost looks ethereal, but the effect is completely ruined by the expression of pure shock on his face.

"Wooyoung," Nichkhun says, then again. "Wooyoung! You. Came back." His voice is hoarse and scratchy, and Wooyoung thinks it's probably because of the yelling they did -- Nichkhun doesn't seem to have much practise with it.

"Hyung," he nods warily, and walks a few steps closer. Stops.

Nichkhun half-raises an arm, as if about to reach for Wooyoung. His hand hovers in the air for a second, then drops back to his side limply. Wooyoung can't help the stab of disappointment, seeing that. "Where," Nichkhun gnaws his bottom lip. "Where did you go? I was -- worried."

"I went to the community centre," Wooyoung says. "One of my dancing friends was there, and we talked a bit." He takes a deep breath. "I wanted to apologize, for earlier."

At that, the confliction marring Nichkhun's normally smooth face melts away, leaving behind something gentle and tender and much more than Wooyoung thinks he deserves.

"I should be the one saying that," Nichkhun says, striding forward. "I didn't mean to yell at you before. It isn't at all my place to say--"

"No, but I'm glad you did, because you were right, I--"

"Wooyoung, you shouldn't listen to me when I talk like that; it's just because I've seen a lot of people become unsatisfied by things they hope will bring them happiness, and I didn't want that to happen to you. Of course you'll be happy if you become a dancer, I know how much you love it--"

"But there are bad aspects to it, I know--"

"Yeah, but still."

"But still."

"Anyway, I shouldn't have--"

"It's okay. I get it."

"Oh. All right."

"Yeah. Um."

Suddenly things couldn't be more awkward. Nichkhun is just close enough for Wooyoung to touch, if he wants to, and he's not sure he does. Things between them are different, now. There was the kiss, and then the yelling, and the fact that Nichkhun likes Wooyoung, apparently -- Wooyoung doesn't really know how he should deal with all this. If he's being honest with himself then he can say that he likes Nichkhun too, a lot, even, and finds Nichkhun attractive (because it isn't as if Wooyoung is blind or anything) -- but even though he's lived in this shop for weeks and has watched Nichkhun for weeks, he's not once thought of kissing Nichkhun. At least not until Nichkhun had kissed him. But it's not like Wooyoung is disgusted by it, far from it; Nichkhun's lips had been soft and giving, and he didn't force Wooyoung to kiss back -- Wooyoung is just surprised by the implications of it. No one had liked him like that before, and definitely no one like Nichkhun. Nichkhun isn't just some ordinary kid from school, he is the owner of this crazy store and has these weird-ass powers that Wooyoung can't understand and is not sure if he wants to. But the way that Nichkhun had lit up, after Wooyoung had told him the kiss had been okay... Wooyoung had never affected anyone to that extent before. Nichkhun had looked at Wooyoung like Wooyoung was the only magical thing in his shop.

It's sort of the look that he's wearing right now.

As if coming to a decision, Nichkhun nods and moves closer. Wooyoung automatically stiffens, steeling himself for -- for what? -- but his eyes slip shut without his consent, and the next instant, he feels Nichkhun's arms wrapping around him, engulfing Wooyoung in a comfortable heat.

A hug. It's just a hug.

"I'm really glad you came back, Wooyoungie," Nichkhun whispers, and Wooyoung shivers as Nichkhun's breath rustles by his ear. Nichkhun's grip tightens minutely.

Slowly, tentatively, Wooyoung brings his arms up too, drifting up Nichkhun's back, and palming Nichkhun's thin shirt, right below his shoulders.

"Thanks for letting me," Wooyoung murmurs, and is rewarded by an amazed chuckle, chuffed out right by Wooyoung's neck. When Nichkhun finally pulls back, his grin is dazzling.

"You're--" Nichkhun shakes his head in disbelief, still smiling. "You really make me wonder, Wooyoung."

"Me?! Make you wonder?"

Nichkhun laughs. "You really have no idea how special you are, do you? There's just something about you..." His hand brushes Wooyoung's cheek, sweeps some hair behind Wooyoung's ear. Wooyoung blushes horribly, but it only makes Nichkhun look more pleased with himself. "It's been a long time since I liked someone as much as you, Wooyoung. I don't even know how it's happening, but it is."

"What are you ta--" He stops, remembering: Nichkhun's heart -- whatever Nichkhun took to mean ‘heart’ in terms of his shop -- is in one of those jars. Meaning that he can't -- can't what?

Wooyoung doesn't realize he's spoken aloud until he hears Nichkhun whisper, "I can't fall in love."

"...Oh."

Nichkhun's responding smile is sad, lonely, and it looks wrong on Nichkhun's face. When Nichkhun reluctantly lets go of Wooyoung to take a long step backwards, Wooyoung shivers again. He feels colder.

"Sometimes I think," Nichkhun says, eyelashes lowering slightly, "that you were meant to come to my shop."

Wooyoung's breath catches.

Nichkhun continues, suddenly letting out a torrent poorly-pronounced Korean words. "Because, like -- I came to Seoul out of the blue. To find my friend. And, my shop didn't handle the abrupt change in location very well. Plus this building is really a lot smaller than what I'm used to working in, and it was so messy -- that was okay at first but then I started getting fed up with it. But then you came! You came by and cleaned up everything and now my shop is in better condition than it's ever been. And I liked that, Wooyoung. I liked your smile and making you laugh and taking care of you, and it's been so long since I got to care for anyone. But you broke my CD and I thought that was a sign, my punishment for letting another person come so close to me, when my heart belongs to the shop, and I felt horrible afterwards. Sick to my stomach. I couldn't sleep all night, you know? I bet you could tell, because you kept on looking at me that morning like I'd claw your face off if I had the chance. So I wondered, should I really kick you out, after making the CD? And I felt awful with how much I didn't want to do that, it was--" Nichkhun frowns sharply. "Anyway, then Junsu came and he was a singer and exactly what I needed. I was just... it was like a miracle." He looks at Wooyoung, eyes shining with an emotion Wooyoung doesn't immediately recognize, and when he does, he has to look away, overwhelmed.

"I thought stuff like that went on in your shop all the time," Wooyoung says, trying to keep his voice even. "You make a sale to make another sale to make another sale, and what you need just comes to you. In that case, those are all miracles. Isn't that how it works?"

"It does. It is. But that means -- don't you get it, Wooyoung? It means that you were somehow meant to break my CD."

Wooyoung's gaze turns back to Nichkhun, startled, and Nichkhun is reflecting his own confusion right back at him.

"And that," Nichkhun says, expression troubled, "I have no idea why."

The next morning, Sunday, Nichkhun decides to close the shop again. He makes a phone call while Wooyoung slowly finishes his breakfast, and not too long afterwards, Ok Taecyeon is once again stepping out of a posh black sedan and through the doors of Dreamhouse. He has a different pair of sunglasses today, Wooyoung notes. They look even more expensive than the last set.

"Khun," Ok Taecyeon says, clapping Nichkhun's hand. "Knew you'd miss my handsome face before too long."

"Yeah, because I don't see it enough plastered all over the products you endorse," Nichkhun grins back.

"You love me."

"It's a curse," Nichkhun agrees, nodding. "Thanks for coming on such short notice, Taec."

Taecyeon waves his hand airily. "No problem. Always happy to help out an old friend." He sounds perfectly genuine, but to Wooyoung, his smile looks a little forced. If Nichkhun notices too, he doesn't let on. He takes Wooyoung's arm and pulls him forward.

"You remember Wooyoung?" he says, and pauses as Wooyoung bows slightly. Taecyeon inclines his head. "I just want to give Junsu a call to make sure he's on his way, so I'll be right back. Can I borrow your cell phone, Wooyoung?" Wooyoung fishes it out of his pocket and hands it over. "Thanks! You guys have fun talking, okay?"

Nichkhun wanders into his office, and Taecyeon turns to Wooyoung.

"So."

Wooyoung waits.

"You're Nichkhun's assistant."

"I help out," Wooyoung says. He's looking at Taecyeon, but he's trying not to stare too intensely. He can't really help it, though. Taecyeon is looking like his usual, tall, handsome self, swathed in designer clothes no doubt handpicked for him by professional stylists, and every breath he takes seems to radiate charisma -- except Wooyoung is looking at him and all he can think about is how last night, he'd seen this guy's heart.

"Does Khun let you in on the secrets of his trade?" Taecyeon asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"What? No."

"Not anything?"

"I clean, mostly," Wooyoung shrugs.

Taecyeon seems to process that carefully. With his shades on, Wooyoung has no idea what he could be thinking. Wooyoung has the queasy feeling that he's being assessed.

"Huh," Taecyeon says at last. "I guess I assumed you were inheriting the shop or something."

Wow, what. "I'm not!" Wooyoung squeaks. "Nichkhun doesn't--"

"Right, I get that now," Taecyeon says, taking off his sunglasses. He twirls them absently with the end of one long finger. "Why are you working here, man? Do you owe Khun or something?"

"Owe?"

"You know," Taecyeon says impatiently. "Owe him."

Wooyoung doesn't know what to say to that. He broke Nichkhun's CD, after all, and Nichkhun is still providing room and board for him even though Wooyoung hasn't really done much work at all lately. And Nichkhun gives Wooyoung support, and affection, and trust -- yes, Wooyoung supposes he owes Nichkhun a lot. Funny how he didn't realize this earlier. Nichkhun had never made Wooyoung feel like he owed him anything.

Taecyeon must have taken Wooyoung's silence as caution, because he snaps his sunglasses into his palm and straightens to his full height. "Look, I'm not stupid. If you've been working with Khun, then you must know about me and know what he's done for me. What I want to know is, do you owe Khun anything."

"Why does that matter?" Wooyoung asks, unsure if he should be suspicious or surprised at the acerbic nature of Taecyeon's voice.

"Because," Taecyeon hisses, making sure to enunciate every syllable. "If you're actually working here just for money, like a normal employee, then I can offer you more money in exchange for your help in something."

"In what?" Nervous, now. Taecyeon looks kind of... predatory. Wooyoung watches warily as Taecyeon cranes his head sideways to check that the door to Nichkhun's office is still closed, and then he turns back to Wooyoung, jaw tight.

"There's something in this shop that belongs to me," he says, words pitched deliberately low. Wooyoung goes cold.

Something must have shown on his face, because Taecyeon's expression smoothes and he half-smiles. "Ah. So you know what I'm talking about."

"I can't," Wooyoung says immediately. "I don't have the key to that--"

"If Nichkhun lets you work with him, then it must means he trusts you," Taecyeon says. "He chose you as an employee, didn't he?"

"It wasn't like that; I came to him for help--" Wooyoung's lips flatten. "It's complicated. And anyway, I do owe him. He's done a lot for me. More than I probably deserve."

Taecyeon clucks his tongue, his white teeth flashing. "Ah." He leans heavily against a shelf, looking out the windows. He tsks again. "Kind of a shame. I was really hoping..." he trails off, not saying anything more.

When it's apparent that Taecyeon isn't going to elaborate, Wooyoung ventures to ask, "Is it hard? Your lifestyle?"

Taecyeon scratches his neck. "It's demanding. I enjoy it though. I like the camera on me," he teases, grinning. "And I'm earning good money. Sometimes the fangirls get to be a bit much, but mostly they're quite supportive."

"So you're happy?"

"I'm content," Taecyeon says succinctly. "I'd like to be happier... but." He spreads out his hands, palms up. "Can't get everything we want, now can we? It's probably my cross to bear, anyway, for taking a shortcut. No reason a person can't get to where I am now through hard work and perseverance, right? In retrospect, I can see why success would feel better that way."

"But you're already at the top, and at such a young age."

Taecyeon's grin twists. "Just means I've got more years ahead of me of the same thing. It wears on you, after a while. Like any job."

"Oh." Wooyoung thinks, for a minute. "If I got you your heart back, would you feel--"

"Forget it," Taecyeon interrupts, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It'd probably cause more trouble than it's worth. I can get it back eventually, if I keep in Nichkhun's good books." He closes his eyes, and relaxes his face -- abruptly, he looks older than Wooyoung recognizes, and very exhausted. "The shop needs three hearts, after all," Taecyeon mutters, eyes still closed. "Don't even know what would happen if one of them died. The shop would disappear, I guess. Honestly, I feel bad for Khun sometimes, being stuck here."

"What?" Wooyoung asks, stilling.

Taecyeon opens his eyes. "You know. He's tied to this shop. Have you ever seen him leave the building?"

No, Wooyoung realizes, startled. "I've seen him on... the front steps..."

"Still a part of the building."

"But why would he be stuck here? What's the point?"

"You're asking me? You're the one working here, dude. I don't get this place any more than you do."

"If one of the hearts dies," Wooyoung says, mind whirring as he takes in the new information, "you said the shop would die? Then what would happen to the shopkeeper?"

Taecyeon coughs pointedly. "What do you think?"

Something very powerful explodes inside Wooyoung's mind. No, he wants to say. You're lying. Nichkhun can't -- he wouldn't --

Nichkhun's office door bangs open, nearly making him jump. Nichkhun comes out, beaming and clapping his hands together. "Junsu will be here soon! Sorry it took me so long, I was trying to see if Junsu could send the song via cell phone, since we don't have a computer set up, but the file ended up being too large, I think, I didn't really understand Junsu's electronic talk. Anyway, he's on his way now. Come in then, Taec, I'll make you something to eat."

"Uh," Taec says.

"I've improved since the last time I cooked for you! Tell him, Wooyoung."

"You're mad," Wooyoung says, just to get another indulgent smile from Nichkhun. And to reassure himself. Taecyeon was probably just throwing out speculation. Wooyoung doesn’t like the thought of Nichkhun somehow disappearing along with the shop. He doesn't like the thought of Nichkhun leaving him. Nichkhun is right here, and as long as Wooyoung's working in Dreamhouse, he's not going to be going anywhere. He quickly follows Nichkhun to the kitchen, pushing the worrisome thoughts from his mind.

"Ah, Ok Taecyeon, Ok Taecyeon," Junsu says excitedly, shaking Taec's hand. "Wow, really you, huh? Look just like your photos, man, although I guess you know that. Love your outfit, are those jeans Calvin Klein?"

"I don't know," Taecyeon says, turning around and trying to read the label on his back pocket. "Maybe. Someone else picks my clothes for me. I have the worst fashion sense."

"But you get to go to all these fantastic fashion shows, man! What do you there, then?"

"I sleep with my eyes open. All celebrities can do that."

"You're joking."

"Just a little," says Taecyeon, flashing his signature grin.

Wooyoung turns away from their conversation, satisfied to leave the two of them to their own introductions. He follows Nichkhun to the back of the store, and waits as Nichkhun unlocks the door to the white room. Nichkhun approaches the centre table, and with trembling fingers, takes Junsu's CD out from its case and presses it inside the slot in his boombox. He presses play. Junsu's strong voice comes floating out of the speakers, accompanied by a simple keyboard melody, once again filling the air with a familiar song. Wooyoung holds his breath.

Nothing happens. The half-filled red jar beside the boombox continues to pulse weakly, without change. Wooyoung wonders if he should say something, but Nichkhun continues to stare at the jar, as if trying to will something to happen just by thinking it.

The crack across the jar has grown larger again, since the last time Wooyoung saw it. The jagged tip of it has nearly reached the line of liquid inside. The red light flickers briefly, ominously.

Another extended moment passes, and the song ends; the CD whirs and replays. Nichkhun lightly trails his fingers across the top of the jar.

"It helps a little," he says, almost too quietly to hear. There is relief colouring his tone, but also worry. "I think it'll stop the crack from getting worse for a while. But it won't last." He lifts his head, straightening his back. "Have to find him soon."

Wooyoung feels pressured to ask. "Hyung. Taecyeon said that you can't leave the shop."

"Taecyeon needs to learn to keep his mouth shut," Nichkhun says lightly. He doesn't turn around. "He's right, though. I can't."

"But then how were you planning to--"

Nichkhun's shoulders are stiff as he answers, "He has to come here, somehow. Even if I were to look for him, I personally can't influence him to come here. My store is all about choices, Wooyoung."

He's tied to the shop, Ok Taecyeon had said. Honestly, I feel bad for Khun sometimes, being stuck here.

I can't bend the rules of the shop, Nichkhun had said, what feels like a very long time ago.

My punishment for letting another person come so close to me, Nichkhun had said, when my heart belongs to the shop.

This is just the way my shop works.

I can't fall in love.

"Everyone except yours," Wooyoung hears himself say, and Nichkhun finally turns around to meet his gaze. His face is blank, but his eyes catch the light glowing from the red jars, and flash a sharp, molten amber.

"Yes," Nichkhun says. "But the shop is my responsibility to manage. This is my own price to pay."

Wooyoung doesn't have anything to say to that. Together, they return their attention to the half-filled jar, with its red liquid and zigzagged crack. Wooyoung will never not feel guilty for creating that. Nichkhun is wrong. There is no way that Wooyoung could have been meant to create that crack, because that jar is connected to Nichkhun’s shop there's no way that Wooyoung would have had anything to do with endangering Nichkhun. That's just not conceivable, and Wooyoung doesn't even want to consider the thought seriously. It had been an accident, nothing more. And now that Wooyoung understands a little more about how the shop works, he resolves to do whatever it takes to help Nichkhun find his friend.

Time passes; whether seconds or minutes, Wooyoung's not sure. The pulsing of the three jars, Wooyoung realizes, is more than a little hypnotic. Junsu's smooth voice lulls Wooyoung further deeper into the moment, until Wooyoung's entire world narrows down to the image of Nichkhun's weary back, his slightly slumped shoulders, the dip of his head, his fisted hands, and the sound of his even breaths, matching the rhythm of the heartbeats emitting from the dusty jar at the other end of the table.

It occurs to Wooyoung, much later, while he's listening to Nichkhun laugh with Taec and Junsu over some tea, that Nichkhun's small fridge and pantry had been almost empty when Wooyoung had first started working at Dreamhouse. What would he have done, if Wooyoung hadn't come and started buying groceries? Would he have had customers who exchanged goods for food? Would he have hired someone else to run for groceries? Would he have starved?

It occurs to Wooyoung that Nichkhun has travelled the world, met countless numbers of people, made who knows how many dreams come true, but through all that, he has been alone, for a very long time.

Wooyoung wonders how, as a child, Nichkhun had pictured his future.

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