Archive of Our Own

The arena is already alive before anything happens.

Not loud yet, just breathing.

A low, rising hum comes from thousands of people shifting in their seats. Phones light up the dark in scattered constellations. Somewhere near the barricade, someone screams his name once, sharp and uncontrollable, and it ripples through the crowd. Then more voices join in. The sound builds, not into chaos, but into anticipation so thick it feels physical. The entire room is leaning forward together.

The stage stays dark.

Waiting.

Jungwon stands near the sound booth, a fortress of mixing boards and monitors manned by technicians with headsets. His white button-down is immaculate despite the heat. The arena staff had given him special access, a laminate with "PRODUCTION" printed on it hangs from his neck. He'd insisted on paying for his own ticket initially, but Jongseong had just laughed and handed him the laminate.

"Can I get you anything, Mr. Yang?" A roadie with a clipboard pauses beside him. "Water? Something from hospitality?"

Jungwon shakes his head. "I'm good, thanks, Minho."

The roadie nods, eyes flicking toward the dark stage. "He's been looking forward to this one. Having you here means more than he lets on."

Jungwon’s chest tightens. Tonight, he’s working. Even at the start of tour, deadlines don’t loosen their grip. His laptop waits in the green room, a quarterly report half-finished, numbers and projections sitting open like they matter more than this moment.

But he couldn’t miss opening night, not when Jongseong had been counting down to it for weeks, restless in a way Jungwon knows too well. Not when this is the beginning of months apart, of time zones and late-night calls that never quite line up, of conversations cut short by rehearsals and early meetings.

If this is the starting point, then he wants to be here for it.

Wants to see the moment Jongseong steps into it fully, the version of him the world gets, before he has to let go of him again piece by piece.

Three years together, and Jungwon still hasn't gotten used to this version of his boyfriend. The one who commands arenas, who has fans who know his lyrics better than their own birthdays. The one who comes home after shows smelling of sweat and stage fog, who falls asleep on their couch with guitar-calloused fingers intertwined with Jungwon's own office-worn ones.

Their lives shouldn't fit together, the rockstar and the accountant. Jongseong's world of noise and Jungwon's world of quiet calculations. Jongseong's nights of performance and Jungwon's early mornings of spreadsheets. Yet somehow, they do. Like two parts that weren't designed for each other but fit anyway.

Their relationship exists in the quiet spaces between performances. Not for shame, never that, but for preservation. Something so real needs room to breathe away from cameras and speculation. Only close friends and family know, a carefully curated circle who understand that love doesn't require an audience.

Jungwon tries to make it to as many shows as he can, even if it means burning through vacation days, taking red-eye flights that leave him tired for days. He's seen Jongseong perform in Tokyo, Sydney, London, each time slipping in through back entrances, watching from the shadows, leaving after the crowds disperse. He remembers the stolen hours in Tokyo, the taste of ramen shared in a quiet back-alley shop after the city had gone to sleep. In Sydney, they managed a sunrise walk along an empty beach. London was rain and museum visits, their hands brushing together in the dim halls. Sometimes he manages a day, sometimes only a few hours, the frantic rearranging of schedules. It's never enough, but it's always something, and the memory of Jongseong's hand finding his in the dark before the show is what carries him through the months apart.

Earlier tonight, that same restlessness had been impossible to ignore.

The dressing room had been too full at first, the stylist going over final touches, someone from hair and makeup checking the last adjustments, his manager talking through timing one more time. Cables, cases, jackets draped over chairs. A quiet kind of organized chaos.

Jungwon had been there too, half-settled on the sofa with his laptop open, trying to finish a document he wasn’t really reading. Numbers on the screen blurred together while he listened more than he worked.

Jongseong hadn’t been sitting.

He never fully sat before shows.

His leg had been bouncing the entire time, sharp and constant, stopping only when he forced himself to still it, then starting again a second later. His fingers kept tapping against his thigh, then going still, then repeating. His body couldn’t seem to contain itself.

Jungwon noticed before anyone else said anything.

He always did.

A few more minutes passed like that, voices overlapping, someone asking about wardrobe, someone else confirming cue timing, until Jungwon finally closed his laptop with a soft click.

“Can we have the room for five minutes?” he said.

The room shifted slightly at that. Not uncomfortable, just surprised. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the noise cleanly enough that everyone paused for half a beat.

Jongseong glanced at him then.

Just once.

And Jungwon saw it clearly, the tension behind his expression, the way his jaw was set like he was holding something in place.

No one argued.

His manager gave a small nod. “Five minutes,” she said, already gathering her clipboard. “We’ll be just outside.”

One by one, they filtered out. The door clicked shut behind them, and the room changed immediately, quieter, smaller, heavier in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Jongseong started pacing again almost instantly.

Back and forth. A tighter loop now that there was less space to avoid the feeling.

Jungwon stayed where he was, watching for a moment before standing.

“You’re doing that thing again,” he said softly.

“I’m not doing anything,” Jongseong replied automatically, still walking.

“You are,” Jungwon said. “You’re thinking too much.”

That made Jongseong stop for half a second, just long enough to exhale through his nose before starting again.

Jungwon stepped in front of him gently this time, not blocking him, just slowing him down.

“Hey,” he said.

Jongseong’s eyes flicked to him, then away again.

“I’m fine,” he said, but it didn’t land convincingly.

Jungwon didn’t argue. He just reached out, catching his wrist lightly, not to stop him, just to anchor him for a second.

“Jongseong,” he said quietly.

Not Jay.

Not the name that belonged to the stage outside these walls.

Just him.

That did it.

The pacing stopped completely.

Jongseong looked at him properly then, like the sound of his name had pulled him back into the room.

Jungwon stepped closer, hand still there, softer now.

“You’re allowed to be nervous,” he said. “You’re also going to be fine.”

A beat.

Then Jongseong let out a quiet laugh that didn’t fully hide how tight his expression still was.

“I hate this part,” he admitted.

“I know,” Jungwon said.

Jongseong didn’t move for a second, just stood there like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, his energy, anything.

Then Jungwon reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair back from his face without thinking about it too much.

“You’re here,” he added. “That’s enough.”

Something in Jongseong’s expression softened at that, just slightly, but enough.

And then he pulled him in.

Not abrupt this time. Not frantic.

Just close.

Jungwon’s arms came up automatically around him, steadying him as Jongseong exhaled against his shoulder like he’d been holding his breath for too long.

When they pulled back slightly, it was Jongseong who leaned in first.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about anything except being there for a second without noise, without pressure, without anything waiting outside the door.

When they separated, Jungwon stayed close, forehead almost brushing his.

“You’re going to do great,” he said again, quieter now.

Jongseong gave a small nod, still not fully settled but no longer unraveling.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

Jungwon looked at him for a second longer, then added, almost lightly, “And you’re never pacing like that again.”

That finally got a real, faint smile out of him.

“Can’t promise that,” Jongseong said.

“Try,” Jungwon replied.

And just like that, the room started to feel like itself again, just a little steadier than before.

A soft knock broke the quiet, and the door opened just enough for the manager to peer inside. "Two minutes, Jay," she said, her voice professional, but her eyes held a hint of warmth as they flickered from Jongseong to Jungwon.

Jongseong nodded, the tension returning to his shoulders in a subtle way. "Got it."

As the door clicked shut again, Jungwon gave his hand a final squeeze. "Go out there and show them why they came."

Jongseong's gaze held his for a moment longer, a silent exchange of everything they couldn't say out loud in these final moments. Then, he turned and walked toward the door, his stride already changing, his posture straightening. By the time his hand touched the doorknob, he was no longer just Jongseong. He was Jay.

A single spotlight flickered on.

Then another.

Then darkness again.

The shift pulled Jungwon out of his thoughts. For a second, he was still back in the dressing room, watching Jongseong pace, hearing his voice drop when he'd said his name properly, feeling the moment settle when everything finally went quiet.

Then the arena came back into focus around him. Sound rising. Movement building. The crowd already reacting, their collective energy a palpable force. Jungwon exhaled once, steadying himself, and lifted his gaze fully to the stage.

Waiting.

The crowd reacted anyway. A ripple of sound moved through the arena, sharp, expectant, already on edge. The screen behind the stage lit up.

JAY.

Clean. Immediate. The letters burned for a moment before the bass hit. It was low and heavy, something felt more than heard. The floor hummed beneath Jungwon’s feet as the lights snapped on in sharp bursts across the stage.

And then he was there.

Center stage. Guitar slung low, fingers already resting near the strings like he’d been standing there longer than anyone realized. Black shirt, collar loose. A jacket that caught the light when he shifted. Hair pushed back, slightly undone. The mic stand waited beside him.

He didn't move right away. He just stood there, looking out at the crowd.

The reaction was instant. The arena broke, people shouting, standing, phones lifting into the air. The sound built fast, filling every corner until it became one continuous roar.

Jay tilted his head slightly.

A small smile.

It only made it worse.

The band came in gradually, drums first, then bass, then guitar. Jay joined without hesitation. His hands moved easily over the strings, each note landing clean, controlled. He didn't move much. He didn't have to.

He stepped closer to the mic but let the guitar lead. The sound carried, steady and full, filling the space without rushing it. The screens behind him shifted through simple visuals, light, movement, nothing that pulled attention away from him.

The crowd started singing before he did. They didn't wait. They already knew.

When he finally leaned in, his voice came through smooth and controlled, cutting clearly through the noise without fighting it. Something in the arena shifted. The energy didn't disappear, it settled. It focused. People leaned forward instead of shouting. Some kept singing, some just watched. A few held onto each other without thinking about it.

Jay stayed exactly where he was. Guitar steady against him. Light fixed on him.

He looked out over the crowd again, slower this time. Not rushing. Not searching. Just looking.

And somewhere past the reach of the lights, in the dimmer edge of the arena, Jungwon watched him the way he always does. Not like a fan. Just like someone who knows him.

The set continued, song after song building the arena's energy. Jungwon watched as Jongseong moved between guitars, as he spoke to the crowd between songs with an intimacy that made thousands feel like they were the only ones in the room. He saw the small tells, the way Jongseong's thumb brushed against his guitar pick when he was thinking, the slight pause before he spoke, the way his eyes scanned the crowd not for faces, but for feeling.

“You guys have been amazing tonight,” Jongseong says, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “This next one… it’s for someone special. Someone who probably should be working right now instead of watching me make noise.”

Jungwon’s breath catches.

In three years together, Jongseong has never said anything like that on stage. There have been rumors before, all shut down quickly, all handled by his company. They had agreed they would decide together if anything ever became public.

This feels close to that line.

“The kind of person who keeps everything organized when I’m… well, when I’m being me,” Jongseong continues. His eyes move across the crowd, but Jungwon knows where they settle. “I met them during a really difficult time in my life about three years ago. They helped me through it.”

The opening notes start, quieter than the previous songs, more restrained. Jungwon recognizes it immediately. He’d heard the early version weeks ago in their kitchen, Jongseong humming it while making coffee, guitar resting against the counter.

The lights dim, the stage shifting into something softer. Jongseong steps closer to the mic and finally wraps his hand around it.

“This song’s called ‘Anchor’,” he says. “We all need one. Something that keeps us steady when things get hard.”

When he sings, it’s different from before. Softer, more open. His voice doesn’t push through the noise this time, it sits in it, controlled, deliberate. The lyrics lean into distance, uncertainty, and something that holds.

Jungwon doesn’t move.

It feels personal in a way that isn’t obvious to everyone else, but clear enough to him. He keeps his eyes on the stage, even as a part of him wants to look away. Their agreement sits in the back of his mind, privacy, boundaries, the way they’ve kept this just theirs.

The crowd quiets, swaying slightly. No one is screaming now. They’re listening.

And Jungwon understands.

This isn’t an announcement. It’s a dedication. A way of saying something without saying it directly.

As the song builds, Jongseong opens his eyes again. This time, he doesn’t scan the crowd.

He looks straight at Jungwon.

Holds it.

And for a moment, everything else fades into the background.

The final note lingers, then falls away.

The arena stays quiet for a few seconds before the applause starts, loud, but heavier than before, more felt than explosive.

Jongseong stays at the mic, head bowed for a moment. When he looks up, the persona is back, but something has shifted. Something softer remains around the edges.

"Thank you," he says, and the words feel like they're meant for more than just the crowd.

The band kicks into the next song, the energy rising again, the moment passing. Jungwon lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He glances at his watch, thinking of the report waiting in the green room, of the early morning flight he's booked to get back to his desk by noon.

But he stays.

Just another song.

Just another moment of watching the man he loves transform the world around him, even as Jungwon's own world waits patiently in the wings.

After the final encore, when the lights come up and the crowd begins to file out, Jungwon makes his way backstage, nodding to the staff who know him by sight now. He finds Jongseong in his dressing room, already stripped of his stage clothes, towel-drying his hair, looking exhausted but exhilarated.

"You didn't have to do that," Jungwon says, leaning against the doorframe.

Jongseong looks up, a tired smile playing on his lips. "Didn't have to what?"

"The song. The dedication."

Jongseong tosses the towel aside and crosses the room, stopping in front of Jungwon. He smells of sweat and stage fog.

"I wanted to," he says, voice softer now, without the microphone. "They don't know it's you. They don't need to. But you needed to know. I needed you to know."

Jungwon reaches out, fingers tracing the line of Jongseong's jaw. "I've always known."

"Have you?" Jongseong's eyes search his. "Sometimes I worry... that you get lost in all this. That I ask too much."

Jungwon shakes his head. "You don't ask. I choose. Every time."

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Jongseong's lips, but the moment their mouths connect, something shifts. The adrenaline from the performance still thrums in Jongseong's veins, and the soft kiss deepens instantly, turning hungry and demanding. Jongseong walks Jungwon backward until his back hits the door with a soft thud, his hands tangling in Jungwon's hair as he swallows his gasp.

"Jongseong," Jungwon breathes out, his hands fisting in the thin t-shirt Jongseong wears. "We can't. Someone will, "

"Everyone's busy tearing down the stage," Jongseong cuts him off, his mouth moving to Jungwon's neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. "They won't notice one dressing room is occupied."

Jungwon tilts his head back, giving Jongseong better access even as his mind protests. "But the door..."

"Leave it," Jongseong growls, his hands already working on the buttons of Jungwon's immaculate shirt. "I need you now."

The shirt falls open, and Jongseong's palms flatten against Jungwon's chest, his thumbs brushing over his nipples. Jungwon whimpers, his resistance crumbling under the onslaught of pleasure. He's been without this for weeks as Jongseong was in preparation for this show, without the weight of Jongseong's body against his, without the desperate need that always surfaces after a performance.

"Please," Jungwon whispers, his hips rolling forward, seeking friction.

Jongseong smirks against his skin. "Please what?"

"Touch me," Jungwon begs, his hands sliding down to grip Jongseong's ass, pulling him closer. "Need you to touch me."

Jongseong's response is to spin Jungwon around, pressing his chest against the cool wood of the door. "Hands on the door," he commands, his voice low and authoritative.

Jungwon complies, his palms flat against the door, his body trembling with anticipation. Jongseong makes quick work of Jungwon's belt and trousers, pushing them down to his knees along with his underwear. The cool air hits Jungwon's exposed skin, making him shiver.

"Look at you," Jongseong murmurs, his hands gripping Jungwon's ass cheeks, spreading them open. "So fucking beautiful like this, all ready for me."

Jungwon whines, pushing back against Jongseong's hands. "Jongseong, please..."

"Soon," Jongseong promises, his fingers tracing circles around Jungwon's hole. "Gonna stretch you open right here against this door. Gonna make you take it where anyone could walk in."

He spits on his fingers, the sound lewd in the quiet room, and then presses one against Jungwon's entrance. Jungwon gasps, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing, allowing the intrusion. Jongseong works him open slowly, methodically, adding a second finger when Jungwon starts pushing back, trying to take more.

"More," Jungwon whimpers, his forehead pressed against the door. "Please, more."

Jongseong scissors his fingers, stretching Jungwon wider. "Greedy little thing," he teases, his thumb brushing over Jungwon's perineum. "Can't even wait to get to the couch."

Just as Jongseong adds a third finger, a sharp knock echoes through the room.

"Jay? You in there?" It's his manager, voice muffled but unmistakable. "Five minutes until the meet and greet."

Jungwon freezes, his eyes widening in panic. He's plastered against the door, completely exposed, with Jongseong's fingers still buried inside him.

"Just a minute!" Jongseong calls out, his voice impressively steady. "Finishing up a call."

The manager hesitates for a moment. "Don't be late. The fans are waiting."

"Got it," Jongseong replies, his breath warm against Jungwon's ear. "I'll be right out."

Footsteps retreat, and Jungwon lets out a shaky breath. "We can't," he whispers, trying to pull away. "He'll be back."

"That's what makes it so fucking hot," Jongseong murmurs, his fingers resuming their movements, curling to brush against Jungwon's prostate. "The thrill of almost getting caught. Knowing someone was just on the other side of this door while I had you like this."

Jungwon whines, his body betraying him as pleasure shoots through him. "Jongseong..."

"Imagine if he'd just walked in," Jongseong continues, his voice a low, dirty whisper in Jungwon's ear. "Imagine him seeing you like this, pressed against the door, taking my fingers so beautifully. All desperate and whiny for my cock."

"Stop," Jungwon begs, though he doesn't mean it. "Please, stop talking."

"Or what?" Jongseong challenges, adding a fourth finger, stretching Jungwon almost to his limit. "You'll make me stop? You'll make me leave you here all needy and wanting?"

Jungwon shakes his head, his hips rocking back against Jongseong's hand. "No," he whimpers. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

"Good boy," Jongseong praises, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with the head of his cock. "Gonna fuck you right here against this door. Gonna make you scream my name and hope no one hears."

He pushes in slowly, giving Jungwon time to adjust, but the stretch is still overwhelming. Jungwon gasps, his hands clenching into fists against the door as Jongseong buries himself to the hilt.

"Fuck," Jongseong groans, his hands gripping Jungwon's hips. "Always so fucking tight."

He doesn't wait long before starting to move, his strokes deep and powerful. Jungwon tries to stifle his moans, pressing his face against his arm, but Jongseong is having none of it.

"None of that," he says, his hand wrapping around Jungwon's hair and pulling his head back. "I want to hear you. Want to hear how good I make you feel."

Jungwon tries to keep quiet, but the pleasure is too much. "Jongseong! Oh god, right there!" he whispers-yells, the sound a strained, desperate hiss that barely contains his ecstasy.

"Louder," Jongseong grunts, his hips snapping forward. "Gonna come for me like this? With my manager waiting just outside?"

Jungwon nods frantically, his body trembling with the force of his impending orgasm. "YES! Right there! Please, please, please!"

As he's about to come, Jongseong pulls out suddenly, leaving Jungwon empty and whining. "Not yet," he growls, gripping Jungwon's arm and pulling him away from the door. "Want to see your face when you fall apart."

He manhandles Jungwon across the room, pushing him down over the makeup table. The edge digs sharply into Jungwon's hips as Jongseong presses him forward, his chest flush against the cool surface. Bottles and palettes clatter to the floor, the noise echoing in the small room. Jungwon's face is inches from the mirror, his reflection flushed and desperate.

"Look at you," Jongseong murmurs, his hands spreading Jungwon's ass cheeks again. "So pretty spread out like this. Gonna fuck you over this table while you watch yourself take it."

He pushes back in with one smooth thrust, and Jungwon cries out, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the slippery surface. "Jongseong!"

"Watch yourself," Jongseong commands, his hand wrapping around Jungwon's hair and forcing his head up. "Watch how I split you open. See how much you love taking my cock."

Jungwon's eyes meet his own reflection, blown wide with pleasure. He looks debauched, his hair mussed, his mouth hanging open, his body flushed. It's intoxicating.

"Jongseong!" he whisper-yells again, the sound strained as Jongseong picks up the pace, his hips slamming against Jungwon's ass. "More! Please, more!"

Jongseong reaches around, his hand wrapping around Jungwon's leaking cock. "Come on then," he growls, his strokes matching the rhythm of his hips. "Come for me. Let me feel you. Let me hear you."

It only takes a few strokes before Jungwon is spilling over the edge, his orgasm ripping through him with an intensity that leaves him gasping. His release splatters against the edge of the makeup table, his body trembling uncontrollably as Jongseong continues to pound into him.

"JONGSEONG!" he whisper-yells, his voice cracking as pleasure overwhelms him. "YES! RIGHT THERE! DON'T STOP!"

Jongseong follows moments later, his hips stuttering as he fills Jungwon with his release, his face buried in Jungwon's neck. For a moment, they just stand there, both trying to catch their breath, their bodies still connected.

"Fuck," Jongseong groans, pulling out slowly. "Look at the mess you made."

Jungwon can only whimper in response, his body still trembling with aftershocks. He watches in the mirror as Jongseong reaches for a tissue, cleaning himself up before turning his attention back to Jungwon.

"Come here," Jongseong murmurs, gently turning Jungwon around and pulling him into his arms. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Jungwon leans against him, his legs feeling like jelly as Jongseong wets a cloth and gently wipes away the evidence of their encounter. The cool fabric feels soothing against his sensitive skin, and he sighs contentedly.

"You're going to be the death of me," Jungwon murmurs, his head resting on Jongseong's shoulder.

Jongseong chuckles, pressing a kiss to Jungwon's forehead. "But what a way to go, right?"

Once they're both decent, Jongseong checks his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "I have to go," he says, turning to Jungwon. "But I'll be back as soon as I can. Wait for me?"

Jungwon nods, leaning in for one more kiss. "Always."

As Jongseong heads for the door, Jungwon catches his arm. "Hey," he says softly. "Lock it on your way out?"

Jongseong smirks. "Where's the fun in that?"

But he locks it anyway, giving Jungwon one last heated look before disappearing into the hallway. Jungwon sinks onto the couch, his body still humming with pleasure as he thinks about what just happened.

The adrenaline, the risk, the pleasure, it all combines to create an experience that's uniquely theirs. He knows he'll be sore tomorrow, the edge of the makeup table having left its mark, but it's a small price to pay for moments like these.

♬⋆.˚

The air itself feels thinner, stripped of its usual casual hum. Even the fluorescent lights seem to buzz with a higher, more anxious frequency. The scent of stale coffee and desperation hangs in the air, a familiar perfume during crunch time. Someone coughs two cubicles over, the sound sharp and intrusive in the unnatural stillness. A printer whirs to life, spitting out pages with a frantic urgency that matches the mood of the room.

Jungwon sits at his desk with a report open in front of him.
He's been on the same section for a while without really moving forward.
His glasses are on. His eyes stay fixed on the screen, but his focus slips in and out between lines of data.
His phone rests beside the keyboard.

The numbers on his screen swim together, meaningless symbols in a sea of digital noise. He's read the same paragraph three times, each word familiar yet somehow failing to connect in his mind. His fingers hover over the keyboard, poised to type, but nothing comes. The cursor blinks at him, a tiny, mocking heartbeat in the vast white expanse of the document. Outside his cubicle, he can hear the muffled sound of someone's keyboard clicking with relentless speed, a percussive reminder of his own stagnation.

It vibrates once.
He doesn't look at it.
A second buzz follows.
Then another.

Each buzz sends a tiny jolt through the surface of his desk, a tremor he feels in his bones. He knows who it is without looking. The timing is too deliberate, the pattern too familiar. It's her, and she's persistent. He can almost feel the weight of her words before he's even read them, a heaviness that settles in his chest like a stone.

He exhales quietly through his nose and finally reaches for it.
He leans back slightly, sliding his glasses off with one hand. His other hand presses briefly into his face, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before he even looks at the screen.

The world goes blurry without his glasses, a soft-focus version of the harsh office reality. He presses harder, trying to massage away the tension that's been building behind his eyes for hours. The skin there feels thin, sensitive. When he finally opens his eyes again, the phone screen seems impossibly bright, a portal to another world that he's not sure he wants to enter right now.

Then he opens the messages.

meowrockstar: are you alive or has the spreadsheet taken custody of you

Jungwon looks at the report still open on his screen.

"I'm working," he types. "You should try it."

meowrockstar: i am working. i'm currently providing emotional support to the music industry

He exhales through his nose, not quite a laugh.

"You're at rehearsal."

meowrockstar: technically yes. spiritually i am distracting you

Jungwon pauses for a second before replying.

"That's not a job."

meowrockstar: it is if i'm good at it

He leans back slightly in his chair, glasses still in his hand, eyes flicking briefly between the report and the messages.

"You should focus," he types. "You have a show."

meowrockstar: i am focused. on you being stressed

That gets a small pause from him.
Not much changes in his expression, but his shoulders loosen slightly before he realizes it.

"You don't know that," he replies.

meowrockstar: i absolutely do. i can feel it through the phone

Jungwon shakes his head faintly.

"You can't feel anything through a phone."

meowrockstar: watch me

A second later,

meowrockstar: also your tone says everything. you're doing the thing where you pretend you're fine but you're not

Jungwon looks at the screen for a moment longer than necessary.

Then types:

"I'm fine."

meowrockstar: that's what people who are not fine always say

That pulls the faintest hint of a reaction from him, almost a smile, quickly suppressed.

Around him, the office stays steady. Controlled. Everyone still locked into their own work.

He glances down again.

"You're distracting," he types.

meowrockstar: no, your job is just boring

Jungwon sets his glasses back on properly this time, exhaling quietly as he straightens.

"You're supposed to be rehearsing," he repeats.

meowrockstar: and you're supposed to be taking breaks. neither of us is perfect

A pause.

Then another message follows immediately.

meowrockstar: eat lunch later. don't disappear into spreadsheets again

Jungwon looks at that for a second.

Then locks his phone.

The screen goes dark.

He stares at his report again for a moment before finally pushing his chair back slightly, like he's resetting himself.

Around him, the office is still focused, but the energy is starting to shift, people slowly reaching the point where work stops being productive and starts becoming endurance.

A chair scrapes nearby.

"Okay," someone says, leaning back and stretching. "I'm done. Let's go eat before I start making mistakes I can't fix."

The elevator glides to a stop with a muted chime, and the office crowd piles in like sardines. Personal space becomes a luxury as shoulders bump and elbows compete for room. The air fills with a chaotic symphony of conversations, work deadlines, lunch plans, and the occasional distracted scroll through social media.

Jungwon finds himself pressed against the back wall, his shoulders finally relaxing after hours hunched over his keyboard. He drags a hand across his face, rubbing the exhaustion from under his eyes, then across his mouth as if trying to jump-start his senses.

His phone vibrates in his pocket once. Twice. A third time, spaced with deliberate familiarity.

With a soft sigh, Jungwon fishes it out. The screen illuminates his face with messages from "meowrockstar":

"I'm being professionally ignored at rehearsal."
"This is damaging to my artistic process."
"You should care more."

A hint of amusement softens Jungwon's tired features as he types with one thumb.
"you'll survive"

The reply comes instantly: "barely"

His coworker beside him peeks over. "You're always texting that person," they comment lightly. "At this point, I'm convinced they're real."

A few chuckles ripple through the elevator.

"They are, unfortunately," Jungwon replies without looking up.

"Unfortunate?" another coworker chimes in. "That's harsh."

Jungwon shrugs, lowering his phone slightly. "Depends how many messages I get in a row."

"Ah," someone else says with a grin. "So they are someone, then."

The observation lands with more weight than intended, not prying, but observant.

Jungwon pauses for half a beat before responding casually, as if it means nothing. "Yeah."

Silence stretches for a moment. That's all he gives them.

It's enough. Small smiles and knowing glances pass between coworkers, nothing invasive, just confirmation of something they'd already suspected.

"Okay," one nods. "That makes more sense."

"Explains a lot, actually," another adds under their breath.

Jungwon lets out a quiet huff that might be a laugh. "Don't start," he warns, shaking his head slightly.

The elevator doors slide open, spilling them into the ground floor lobby where street noise immediately engulfs them, cars honking, people talking, the aroma of food trucks wafting through the air.

The group fragments as they head outside, reforming into smaller clusters near the food trucks. Jungwon trails slightly behind, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Someone nudges him playfully as they step onto the sidewalk. "So," they say casually. "You gonna tell us about your mysterious texter someday, or are you keeping that under lock and key too?"

Jungwon gives them a flat but friendly look. "There's nothing to tell."

"That also sounds like there's something to tell," another coworker points out.

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head once. "It's not that serious," he says, brushing it off without completely shutting them down.

"Sure," someone replies, clearly not convinced but letting it go.

They join the food line, conversations shifting to orders and wait times. Jungwon stands with them, hands in pockets, weight settled on one leg.

His phone buzzes. Again. He starts to pull it out,

"Did you see that post from Jay earlier?"

The name cuts through everything else. Jungwon's movement pauses mid-motion. His phone is halfway out before he slides it back in as if the action never happened.

Around him, the conversation continues easily.

"Yeah," another coworker says. "The teaser for his new single? That MV looks insane."

"I didn't even know he was still in town," someone else adds. "I thought he left after the tour started."

"He's been back and forth," another explains. "Press, rehearsals, all that. The tour's been huge lately."

Jungwon keeps his expression neutral, gaze forward like he's only half-listening. But now he's tuned in completely.

"I've seen clips from the shows," someone continues. "It's kind of crazy how big it's gotten. Like, he's everywhere right now."

"Yeah, he's making waves for sure," another agrees. "Every time he drops something, it blows up."

Jungwon shifts slightly, like he's just now tuning in. "Who?" he asks, as if he missed the beginning.

A coworker glances at him. "Jay. You know, rockstar, guitar, dramatic lighting, all that."

A few chuckles follow.

Jungwon hums like that rings a vague bell. "Oh. I think I've heard the name."

This gets a reaction, but nothing sharp, just amusement.

"You've definitely heard the name," someone says.

Jungwon shrugs lightly. "I don't really follow that stuff."

"Fair," another coworker replies easily. "But yeah, he's everywhere right now."

They move forward in line, placing orders and collecting food. By the time they settle at a metal table, the conversation has shifted with them.

Jungwon sets his tray down, unwrapping his food slowly as he listens.

"That post though," one coworker picks up. "The teaser looked expensive."

"Everything he does looks expensive," another replies.

"He produces a lot of his own stuff too," someone adds. "Not just a performer."

Jungwon nods slightly, like he's taking it in for the first time. "So he's big, then," he says.

This earns a small laugh, light, not mocking. "Very," someone says. "Like… very."

Jungwon hums, taking a bite.

His phone buzzes against the table. Once. Twice. Three times.

He glances down this time, unlocking it discreetly under the table.

meowrockstar: i know you saw my messages
meowrockstar: don't ignore me
meowrockstar: this is targeted behavior

Jungwon scrolls slightly, more messages stacked above.

meowrockstar: hello???
meowrockstar: wow
meowrockstar: okay

His mouth twitches as he types quickly. "hold on"

Almost instantly,

meowrockstar: wow
meowrockstar: i see how it is

A second later, a gif appears, a small, angry cat puffed up and glaring.

Jungwon lets out a quiet laugh, locking his phone and setting it face down on the table.

"What?" someone across from him asks.

"Nothing," Jungwon says easily. "They're being annoying."

"That tracks," a coworker says. "You've been getting spammed all day."

Jungwon just shrugs. "So what kind of music does he make?" he asks, steering the conversation back.

That's enough to keep them going.

"Rock, mostly," someone says. "But not just that. It's kind of mixed."

"Here," another adds, already pulling out their phone. "I'll show you."

They turn the screen toward him. A clip plays, stage lights, a crowd, Jongseong at the center, guitar low, moving with that same steady control Jungwon knows by heart.

Jungwon leans in slightly, like he's seeing it for the first time. "Yeah," he says after a second. "Okay, I get it."

"Told you," the coworker replies.

Another scrolls through photos, press shots, behind-the-scenes clips, fan videos. "He posted this earlier," they say, showing the teaser again.

Jungwon watches just long enough. Not too much.

"You follow him?" someone asks.

Jungwon shakes his head. "No."

Which is true, just not the whole truth.

"Figures," someone says lightly. "He's hard to miss though."

"Yeah," Jungwon agrees.

Across the table, someone scrolls again. "People are obsessed with him right now."

"I mean, it makes sense," another says. "He's good."

Jungwon leans back slightly, settling. He reaches for his drink, taking a small sip as the conversation drifts past him.

His phone buzzes against the table. This time, he picks it up.

"are your ears burning," he types, thumb moving easily now.

The reply comes almost immediately.

meowrockstar: why

Jungwon glances up briefly, his coworkers are still mid-conversation, half about food, half about nothing, before looking back down.

"you're being discussed at the lunch table"

There's a short pause.

Then,

meowrockstar: i knew it
meowrockstar: say something nice at least

A quiet breath of amusement leaves Jungwon as he taps his screen.

"debating it"

Another message pops in, faster this time.

meowrockstar: unbelievable
meowrockstar: i am at rehearsal suffering and this is the support i get
meowrockstar: and here i thought you loved me

Jungwon huffs softly, the corner of his mouth lifting as his thumb hovers like he's about to reply,

"And get this, " one of his coworkers says, cutting through just enough to pull his attention.

His thumb stills. The message half-formed on his screen doesn't get sent. He lowers his phone slightly, eyes lifting.

"There was this clip going around from one of his shows a few weeks ago," a coworker continues, leaning in like they're sharing something mildly scandalous. "Right before one of the slower songs."

Jungwon doesn't interrupt. Just listens.

"He actually stopped talking for a second," another adds. "Not scripted or anything. Just… spoke."

"Which he doesn't really do," someone else says. "He's pretty private."

Jungwon's phone rests loosely in his hand now, forgotten for the moment.

"And then he says something about someone," the first coworker continues. "Doesn't name them. Just 'someone special.'"

A few small reactions ripple through the table.

"Yeah," another nods. "That's the part everyone latched onto."

"And that song they're using for the music video?" someone adds, pointing vaguely like it's obvious. "It's the same one he teased at that concert."

"That's why people are connecting it," another says. "They've been trying to piece clips together, like who he was looking at when he said it, what direction he turned, all of that."

"People are basically building timelines off a few seconds of footage," someone else adds with a small laugh. "Slowing it down, zooming in, everything."

Jungwon leans back slightly, expression unreadable.

"That's it?" he asks. "He just said that and moved on?"

"Pretty much," one coworker says. "Went straight into the song after."

"Which made it worse," another adds with a short laugh. "Now everyone's trying to decode it."

"I saw people breaking down the clip like it was evidence," someone else says. "Tone, pause, where he looked, everything."

Jungwon exhales lightly through his nose. "That's kind of insane," he says.

"It is," a coworker agrees easily. "But also… it didn't feel random."

"He's not really the type to just say stuff like that," another adds. "If he said it, there's probably a reason."

Jungwon tilts his head slightly. "So people think there's actually someone?" he asks.

"Most people do," one replies. "Or at least that there was."

"And he hasn't addressed it since?" Jungwon continues, still casual.

A few heads shake. "Nope," someone says. "Just left it there."

"Which is kind of the point," another adds. "Now everything he does gets tied back to it."

Jungwon hums under his breath, like he's weighing that. "Suspicious," he mutters.

He just sits with it for a second, half listening, half distracted, before finally locking his phone and setting it down beside his tray.

But the conversation at the table keeps going. And now, so does the name he's pretending not to care about.

"They've been analyzing his recent interviews too," someone adds, scrolling through their phone. "Every time someone asks about his inspiration, he gets this look."

"What look?" another asks, leaning in.

"You know," the first says, squinting at their screen. "Like he's somewhere else for a second. Then he gives some generic answer about 'life experiences' or 'personal growth.'"

Jungwon takes another bite of his food, chewing slowly as he listens.

"And remember that awards show last month?" another coworker chimes in. "When he won that award? He thanked everyone, his team, his fans, his family. Then he paused and just... smiled. Like really smiled, before walking off stage."

"Oh yeah," someone else nods. "I remember that. People went wild trying to figure out who he was thinking about."

"They even analyzed the direction he was looking," the first coworker adds with a laugh. "Like he was looking at a specific section of the audience."

Jungwon's phone buzzes again. He ignores it this time, focusing on his coworkers' conversation.

"It's kind of sweet, actually," one of them says. "Even if we don't know who it is."

"Yeah," another agrees. "It's nice to see someone that famous still have something private, something real."

Jungwon shifts slightly in his seat. "Maybe he's just messing with people," he suggests, keeping his tone casual.

A few coworkers look at him.

"Nah," one shakes their head. "Not his style. He's never been one for publicity stunts."

"Yeah," another agrees. "He's always been pretty genuine. That's why fans are so obsessed with figuring this out."

Jungwon nods slowly, like he's considering this. "I guess," he says noncommittally.

The conversation drifts to other topics, weekend plans, office gossip, complaints about a new software update. But Jungwon finds himself only half-listening now, his mind elsewhere.

He picks up his phone, finally checking the new messages.

meowrockstar: you're not even going to defend my honor?
meowrockstar: after everything we've been through?
meowrockstar: i'm hurt. deeply hurt.

Jungwon's lips curve into a small smile as he types back.

"they're speculating about your mysterious someone special"

The reply comes almost instantly.

meowrockstar: oh really?
meowrockstar: what are they saying?
meowrockstar: tell me everything

Jungwon glances up, his coworkers are now arguing about the best coffee shop near the office. He looks back down.

"that you're hopelessly in love with someone you won't name"

meowrockstar: well
meowrockstar: they're not wrong
meowrockstar: but also not entirely right

Jungwon's eyebrows raise slightly.

"how so?"

meowrockstar: it's not someone i won't name
meowrockstar: it's someone i can't name
meowrockstar: professional discretion and all that

Chuckling quietly, Jungwon draws a brief glance from a coworker before they return to their argument.

"so there is someone?"

meowrockstar: there might be
meowrockstar: or there might not be
meowrockstar: the mystery is part of the appeal

Jungwon shakes his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips.

"you're impossible"

Jungwon's phone buzzes again, and he glances down at the new message from Jongseong.

meowrockstar: which reminds me
meowrockstar: what time do you get off work?
meowrockstar: are you busy tonight?

Jungwon types back quickly. "probably late. why?"

meowrockstar: to know what time i can call you later
meowrockstar: i miss seeing your face

A soft warmth spreads through Jungwon's chest, and he finds himself cooing quietly at the message before catching himself. He quickly types back.

"you're so cheesy"

meowrockstar: and yet you put up with me

Jungwon hesitates, thumbs hovering over the screen.

"might be busy"

meowrockstar: might be?
meowrockstar: that's not an answer
meowrockstar: i have something i want to show you

Jungwon's smile widens slightly.

"show me now"

meowrockstar: can't
meowrockstar: it's a surprise
meowrockstar: and it requires your full attention
meowrockstar: no coworkers or distractions allowed

Jungwon glances up again. The lunch break is winding down; people are starting to gather their trash.

"i'll think about it"

meowrockstar: don't think too long
meowrockstar: surprises have expiration dates

Jungwon locks his phone, setting it down as he stands to clear his tray. As he's disposing of his trash, one of his coworkers approaches him.

"You were quiet after we talked about Jay," they say casually. "Got any theories about his mystery person?"

Jungwon shrugs, keeping his expression neutral. "Not really. It's his business, not mine."

"Fair enough," the coworker says. "But you've got to admit, it's intriguing."

"I guess," Jungwon replies, not entirely convincing.

The coworker eyes him for a moment. "You know," they say thoughtfully, "for someone who doesn't follow that stuff, you seem to know an awful lot about it."

Jungwon's heart skips a beat, but his expression doesn't change. "I just heard what you guys were saying," he says smoothly. "That's all."

"Right," the coworker says, though they don't look entirely convinced. "Well, if you ever do want to share your theories..."

Jungwon just shrugs again as they head back toward the office building. "I'll keep that in mind."

As they re-enter the lobby and wait for the elevator, Jungwon feels his phone buzz once more. He pulls it out discreetly.

meowrockstar: so?
meowrockstar: tonight?
meowrockstar: yes or no

Jungwon types back quickly as the elevator doors open.

"yes"

meowrockstar: :D
meowrockstar: you won't regret it

Jungwon smiles to himself as he steps into the elevator with his coworkers, his phone now tucked safely away in his pocket. The mystery of Jay's "someone special" continues to swirl around him, but he's the only one who knows he's holding a piece of the puzzle right in his hand.

The office had surrendered to the evening hours, productivity giving way to exhaustion. Fluorescent lights hummed at half-strength, casting long shadows across abandoned workspaces. Chairs sat askew, monitors glowed with unsaved documents, half-empty coffee cups marked the day's casualties.

Jungwon's fingers flew across the keyboard, completing the final paragraph before hitting save with a decisive click. He leaned back, vertebrae popping as tension drained from his shoulders. His eyes burned from hours of screen-staring.

"Finally," someone groaned nearby, zipping a backpack with unnecessary force. "I thought that report would never end."

"It's done," Jungwon replied, pushing his chair back and rising. "At least until tomorrow."

Tired laughter rippled through the space. Someone stretched with a theatrical groan. Another was already complaining about tomorrow's meetings as if they'd personally offended them.

They migrated toward the elevators in the familiar end-of-day ritual. By the lobby, the atmosphere shifted to small, familiar noises, keys jangling, phones lighting up, fragmented conversations about dinner plans and traffic merging into a single hum.

Outside, cool air kissed overheated skin. The building's drop-off lane sat nearly empty, just a few cars idling under streetlights, their reflections stretching across the glass facade.

Jungwon stepped out with the others, already pulling his phone from his pocket.

meowrockstar: rehearsal ran long. i am suffering

His mouth curved into a smile.

you say that every time you're at practice too long

meowrockstar: because it becomes true every time

A quiet huff escaped him.

They lingered near the entrance, the group naturally clustering before dispersing.

"Hey, we're grabbing dinner," one said, nudging another. "That place down the street, wanna come?"

"Yeah, come with us," another added. "You look like you haven't eaten in twelve hours."

Jungwon opened his mouth, then paused. Jongseong had mentioned calling. Probably already waiting.

He shook his head lightly. "Raincheck. I've got something."

"A secret something?" someone teased.

Jungwon chuckled, glancing down as if giving himself away.

"Wow, okay," another chimed in, grinning. "He's busy, leave him alone."

Jungwon just smiled, small and noncommittal. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Tell your mystery person goodnight from us," someone called as they started toward the restaurants.

Jungwon's smile lingered, softer this time. "I will."

And then, a black SUV pulled up to the curb.

The driver's door opened. The man stepped out, straightening his jacket before looking directly at Jungwon.

"Mr. Yang?"

Jungwon paused mid-step. "Yeah?"

The driver nodded, gesturing toward the back. "He's inside. Waiting for you."

"I'm, sorry?" Jungwon started, brows pulling together,

, and then recognition struck.

The face. The voice. The stance.

Jongseong's driver.

Surprise flickered across Jungwon's expression. Jongseong wasn't supposed to be here, he should be on tour, somewhere far from this street, from this moment.

Behind him, one of his coworkers slowed, glancing between Jungwon and the SUV. "Wait… what's going, "

Jungwon didn't let them finish. "I'll call you tomorrow," he said quickly, already moving toward the SUV before questions could form.

He slipped past the driver, pulling the door open himself. Warm air rushed out as he ducked inside without looking back.

The door shut with a soft thud.

Before he could fully turn, a hand caught his wrist. Another slid to his shoulder, pulling him forward, closer.

He ended up half-slouched against the door as Jongseong leaned over him, one hand firm at his wrist, the other braced at his shoulder.

And then, the kiss.

Immediate. Warm. Overwhelming in a way that knocked everything else out.

Jungwon froze for a split second, then melted.

Weeks of late-night calls, rushed messages, "I'll see you soon" that kept getting pushed back. Weeks since he'd last seen him in person.

His hands slid up without thinking, settling against Jongseong's chest, then higher, fingers curling into the fabric like he needed something to hold onto.

Outside, the driver's door shut. The engine shifted. The SUV started moving.

Jungwon barely noticed.

When they finally pulled apart, it wasn't far. Just enough for their foreheads to nearly brush.

Jongseong exhaled softly. "Hi," he murmured.

Jungwon blinked up at him, dazed for half a second, then softer. "Hi."

They lingered, looking at each other. Jungwon's cheeks were flushed, lips slightly parted, eyes bright in the low light.

Jongseong looked at him the same way, like he'd been waiting for this exact moment.

Jungwon swallowed.

Reality snapped back in.

"…Wait." He lifted his hand, and thumped Jongseong's shoulder. Not hard. Just enough.

"What the hell, " Jungwon started, voice pitching higher. "Why are you here?"

Another thump. "You have a show tomorrow."

Another. "How are you here right now?"

He kept hitting him lightly between words, brows drawn together. "You're supposed to be on tour. What if someone saw you? What if, "

Another soft hit.

Jongseong let out a quiet laugh. "You're crazy," Jungwon muttered, one last thump for emphasis.

Jongseong tilted his head slightly. "Crazy over you."

Jungwon rolled his eyes, even as the corners of his mouth betrayed him. "Shut up."

There was no bite to it. Only warmth.

"It's going to happen eventually," Jongseong said.

Jungwon stilled. The shift was subtle but there.

"…What?" He studied him now, confusion flickering across his face. This was the second time Jongseong had said something like this. Like it had been sitting with him longer than Jungwon realized.

Jungwon's brows knit slightly. "What do you mean…?"

Jongseong exhaled, leaning back just enough to look at him fully. The partition hummed softly as it rose, sealing them off in privacy.

"I just…" he started, then paused. "It's not that I want to rush anything. I don't."

His fingers tapped lightly against his thigh. "But I've been thinking about it. A lot."

Jungwon didn't interrupt. Just watched.

"Being away like that, on tour, it messes with your head," Jongseong admitted. "Everything's loud all the time. People everywhere. Cameras, fans, schedules… it's constant."

He shook his head slightly. "And then I go back to my hotel, and it's quiet. And you're not there."

That landed softer.

"I'm talking to you through a screen," he continued, voice steadier now, "and it just… doesn't feel like enough."

Jungwon's expression shifted.

"I don't like pretending you're not part of my life when you are," Jongseong said. "I don't like having to think about who's around before I call you, or what I say, or where I am."

His gaze held Jungwon's now. "I don't like that I can't just… show up for you like this whenever I want."

A small pause. Then, softer, "I don't like hiding you."

The words sat between them. Honest. Bare.

Jongseong exhaled. "But I know it's not just me. I know it affects you too. Your job, your life, everything. I'm not ignoring that."

He shook his head slightly. "I'm not saying we have to tell the world tomorrow. I'm not saying we rush into anything you're not ready for."

His voice lowered. "I just… don't want hiding to be the default forever."

A beat. Then quieter, "But if you don't want that, if you're not ready, then that's okay too."

He looked away for half a second, jaw tightening slightly. "I'll wait."

Silence settled. The hum of the road filled the space.

Jongseong seemed to realize what he'd just said. He shifted slightly, a faint flush creeping up his neck.

"…That sounded a lot cooler in my head," he muttered.

Jungwon was staring at him. Not tense. Not overwhelmed. Just, bright.

Something giddy flickered across his face, like he was trying not to smile and failing.

Jongseong glanced at him. "What?"

Jungwon leaned in, lifting a hand, and gently flicked at Jongseong's ear.

"Oh my god," Jungwon murmured, grin breaking through. "You're blushing."

"I'm not, "

"You really love me," Jungwon cut in softly, almost in awe. "Like… really love me."

His thumb brushed lightly over the edge of Jongseong's ear, still pink. "I don't think anyone's ever said something like that to me before. Not like that."

A small pause. Then, softer, "It's cute."

Jongseong recoiled slightly. "I'm not cute. I'm hot. And hardcore. I'm a rockstar."

Jungwon hummed, completely unconvinced. "Mm. Yeah. But you're my rockstar."

A beat. Then, with a teasing tilt, "My catstar."

Jongseong made a face, pushing himself up slightly. "Absolutely not."

Jungwon laughed under his breath as he finally sat up properly too, the two of them shifting back into their seats. Their hands found each other anyway. Naturally. Fingers laced together, resting on the leather seat between them like they'd always been there.

The SUV continued moving, smooth and steady through the city's evening arteries. A quiet moment passed, filled only by the soft hum of the engine and the distant wail of a siren.

Jungwon scooted a little closer, shoulder brushing Jongseong's arm. "I still can't believe you're here," he said, softer now.

Jongseong glanced at him, a small smile returning. "The perks of having a rockstar boyfriend."

"That's not a thing."

"It is for you."

He leaned in, pressing a light kiss to Jungwon's temple.

Jungwon huffed quietly. "You're impossible."

"And yet," Jongseong said, pulling back slightly, "you still got in the car."

Jungwon snorted softly. "Yeah, because knowing you, you would've gotten out and given my coworkers a heart attack. We would've been on the front page by midnight."

Jongseong let out a quiet laugh at that.

Jungwon's smile softened as he looked at him again, really looked this time. "You look tired," he murmured. "Is it the tour?"

Jongseong huffed lightly. "I always look tired to you."

A small pause. Then, "But I could say the same about you."

Jungwon raised a brow slightly. "Oh?"

A beat. Then, lightly, "Well… I know a few ways to fix that."

Jongseong's gaze flickered, something shifting there, tired, yeah, but something else underneath it now.

"Yeah?" he murmured.

Jungwon didn't answer. Not with words.

He leaned in instead. Slow this time. Giving Jongseong the chance to meet him halfway, which he did. Immediately.

The kiss was different now. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just… lingering. Familiar.

Jungwon's hand came up, sliding along the side of Jongseong's neck, thumb brushing just under his ear as their lips moved together, softer, deeper.

Jongseong exhaled against him, one hand settling at Jungwon's waist, pulling him closer like he didn't want any space left between them.

The car hummed quietly around them, city lights flickering past unseen. It was easier this time. Like they were remembering the rhythm instead of chasing it.

Jungwon tilted his head slightly, deepening it just a little, then pulled back, barely. Just enough that their lips still brushed when he spoke.

"How long do we have?" he murmured against Jongseong's mouth.

Jongseong let out a quiet breath, like he didn't want to answer at all. But he reached up anyway, tapping the intercom.

"Hey," he said, voice steadier than he felt. "How far out?"

There was a brief crackle. "About twenty minutes, sir."

Jongseong glanced back at Jungwon. Then, "Take the long way."

A small pause. "…Yes, sir."

The line clicked off.

Jongseong didn't move far. Didn't need to. "Better," he murmured.

Jungwon's lips curved slightly. "Much."

And then they were leaning in again, this time without interruption.

The kiss deepened, Jungwon's fingers tangling in Jongseong's hair as Jongseong's hand slid from Jungwon's waist to his back, pressing him closer. The city outside became a blur of lights and shadows, distant and irrelevant.

Jungwon shifted, swinging a leg over Jongseong's lap without breaking the kiss, settling astride him. The new position sent a jolt through them both, a sudden, delicious friction that made Jongseong groan into Jungwon's mouth. The car's confines became a cocoon, a private world where nothing existed outside of this moment.

Their kisses grew messy, desperate. Tongues slid together, slick and hot, as weeks of separation melted away in a flurry of harsh breaths and wandering hands. Jongseong's hands roamed down Jungwon's back, gripping his ass through his dress slacks and pulling him impossibly closer. Jungwon's fingers tangled in Jongseong's hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp, giving Jungwon the opening to deepen the kiss further. It was frantic, clumsy, perfect, like two teenagers discovering each other for the first time, all consuming need and no room for thought.

"Lay down," Jungwon muttered against Jongseong's swollen lips, the words barely coherent.

They made do with the limited space, a tangle of limbs as Jongseong maneuvered them, stretching across the leather seats with Jungwon following him down, blanketing his body. The change in angle was electric. Jungwon finally detached their mouths, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along Jongseong's jaw. He could feel the frantic pulse beating beneath the skin there.

He moved lower, nipping at the sensitive skin of Jongseong's neck. His fingers hooked into the collar of the plain black t-shirt, pulling the fabric taut. He bit down, hard, right over the sharp line of Jongseong's collarbone. A possessive thrill shot through him. If he wants to show off he has someone, then so be it, Jungwon thought with a fierce satisfaction. Have a nice time trying to cover these tomorrow. Knowing you, you won't even try. You'll wear them like a fucking medal at your concert. He soothed the mark with his tongue, then created another on the opposite side, a matching set of claims.

Jungwon shifted lower, his knees pressing into the plush carpeting on the floor of the SUV. His gaze dropped to the noticeable bulge straining against the soft fabric of Jongseong's grey sweatpants. He looked up, meeting Jongseong's dark eyes from under his lashes, letting that feline glint he knew drove his boyfriend crazy shine through. He slowly, deliberately, palmed the rigid length of Jongseong's erection, feeling it twitch and harden further under his touch.

Jongseong's breath hitched. One hand came down to card through Jungwon's soft, chocolate-brown locks, while the other came to rest gently against his jaw, thumb stroking his cheekbone. The contrast between his gentle touch and the raw hunger in his eyes was intoxicating.

"Look at you," Jungwon murmured, his voice a low, teasing purr. "All dressed down in your rockstar sweats, but you're still so desperate for it, aren't you? So hard already just from a little kissing."

He rubbed his thumb over the damp spot forming at the head of Jongseong's cock, smearing the pre-come through the thin fabric. Jongseong's hips jerked up, a choked sound escaping his throat.

"God, Jungwon..."

"No," Jungwon corrected softly, leaning in to press a wet kiss to the fabric-covered head. "Not God. Just me." He hooked his fingers into the waistband of the sweatpants and boxers, pulling them down in one smooth motion. Jongseong's cock sprang free, flushed and curving up toward his stomach, already beading with moisture.

Jungwon didn't waste time. He wrapped his hand around the thick base, giving it a slow, firm pump that had Jongseong arching his back. He leaned in, flattening his tongue and licking a broad stripe from base to tip, tasting the salty pre-come. Jongseong's hand tightened in his hair.

"Fuck," Jongseong breathed, his eyes locked on Jungwon's mouth. "Don't tease."

Jungwon just smirked, his breath ghosting over the wet head. "But that's my favorite part." He parted his lips and took just the tip into his mouth, sucking gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge. He watched Jongseong's face as he did it, watched the way his boyfriend's composure crumbled, his mouth falling open, his chest heaving.

He sank down lower, taking more of him in, inch by agonizing inch. His mouth was hot and wet, and he hollowed his cheeks, creating a suction that made Jongseong's toes curl. He set a slow, torturous rhythm, bobbing his head, his hand working what his mouth couldn't yet take. The sounds were filthy, wet, slick noises punctuated by Jongseong's ragged groans and the soft hum of the car's engine.

"Jungwon... please," Jongseong begged, his voice wrecked. "Faster."

Jungwon pulled off with an obscene pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Jongseong's cock. "What's the magic word?" he teased, his voice husky.

"Please," Jongseong gritted out, his hips thrusting up uselessly. "Please, baby. Let me fuck your mouth."

A dark thrill went through Jungwon at the raw need in his voice. "Since you asked so nicely." He dove back down, taking him deeper this time, relaxing his throat until his nose was buried in the coarse hair at Jongseong's base. He swallowed around him, and Jongseong cried out, his entire body tensing.

Jungwon set a punishing pace then, his head bobbing furiously, his hand massaging Jongseong's balls. He could feel Jongseong's thighs trembling, could hear his breath coming in harsh, desperate pants. The car windows were fogged up, completely obscuring the world outside. It was just them, just this raw, desperate act of reclaiming each other.

"Fuck, I'm close," Jongseong warned, his voice strained.

Jungwon didn't stop. If anything, he went faster, his tongue working frantically, his hand gripping Jongseong's hip to hold him down. He wanted it, wanted to taste him, to take everything he had to give.

With a guttural cry, Jongseong came, pulsing hot and bitter down Jungwon's throat. Jungwon swallowed it all, milking him through his orgasm until he was spent and trembling.

He slowly pulled off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He crawled back up Jongseong's body, kissing him deeply, letting him taste himself on his tongue.

Jongseong wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight, his heart hammering against Jungwon's chest. "Holy shit," he breathed against Jungwon's hair. "You're trying to kill me."

Jungwon chuckled, nuzzling into his neck. "Just giving you something to remember me by tomorrow." He traced one of the dark hickeys he'd left earlier. "And something to show off."

Jongseong laughed, a low, contented sound. "You're evil."

"You love it," Jungwon replied, and it wasn't a question.

"I do," Jongseong agreed, kissing the top of his head. "God, I do."

♬⋆.˚

Three years ago,
It's a different city.

Foreign in a way that never settles in his bones. Street names he can read but don't anchor him to anything. Voices that blur the longer he listens. A place where he's always slightly out of sync.

The bar is small, tucked down a narrow street that looks quieter than it feels. Earlier rain left the pavement slick, neon lights stretched thin across the ground, broken into color with every passing car.

Inside, it's dim. Low ceiling. Warm air. Music humming instead of demanding attention, as if even sound here is trying not to be too much.

Jongseong sits at the far end of the counter. Alone. A drink in front of him he hasn't touched in a while.

His phone won't stop buzzing.

He already knows before he looks. Knows all of them. Still, he flips it over. The screen lights up too bright against the dark.

Missed calls. Messages stacked in layers he doesn't want to read too closely.

Manager. Security Lead. Mom.

Names repeating. Overlapping. Filling the silence like they're trying to pull him back into something he can't stand up in right now.

He stares without really reading. Just absorbing the shape of it. Work. Schedule. Where are you. We need you back. We're holding things together. Just answer.

And underneath it all, something unspoken.

You're not supposed to be like this.

Because even he knows it. Knows he hasn't been himself. Not really. Not even during the short pause the label gave him after the "accident."

That's what they called it. That's what they told him to call it. An accident. Like it was something that just happened to happen. Like it didn't take anything from him. Like it didn't rip someone out of the world in a single moment and leave everything else standing there pretending it was still whole.

His father.

Gone.

Just like that.

The man who taught him how to hold a guitar properly before he ever thought about stages or crowds. The one who would sit beside him when he got it wrong and just laugh softly instead of correcting him too harshly. The one who somehow made music feel like something you could live inside instead of just perform.

Now, there's just absence where he used to be.

Jongseong is still trying to understand how someone can exist everywhere in your life one day and nowhere at all the next.

His thumb hovers over the screen. Doesn't answer. Doesn't call back. Just locks it. Flips it face down.

The silence that follows is heavier than the buzzing ever was.

The bartender sets a drink in front of him without asking anything, like he's decided Jongseong is the kind of person who doesn't want conversation attached to survival.

He isn't wrong.

"Thanks," Jongseong mutters. His voice sounds far away, like it belongs to someone watching him from a distance.

He shouldn't be here. There's a show tonight. People waiting for him to step on stage like nothing in his life has split open. Like he didn't just stop being able to carry things the same way.

But he did.

And he doesn't know how to explain that to anyone in a way that won't sound like failure. So he didn't. He just… left.

Now he sits in a bar in a city that doesn't know his name, staring at a drink he doesn't touch, while his phone keeps trying to drag him back into a version of himself he can't fully reach right now.

It buzzes again. Mom. Again. Manager. Security. Again. Again.

He doesn't pick it up. Just stares forward. The grain of the wood. The condensation sliding down the glass. The way the music folds into everything without demanding to be noticed.

Someone laughs behind him. A chair scrapes. Life continues without waiting for him to catch up.

His fingers tighten slightly around the glass. But he still doesn't drink. Because if he does, it means staying. And he isn't ready to stay anywhere yet.

The phone buzzes again. And Jongseong finally exhales, slow, uneven, and lets it sit face down like the rest.

The bar stays the same for a while. Dim. Warm. Quiet in a way that doesn't feel peaceful, just muted, like everything has been turned down but never actually off.

Jongseong doesn't move. Phone face down. Drink untouched. Thoughts too loud even without sound.

Then, A chair scrapes beside him. Not behind him. Not passing through. Stopping. Right next to him.

A bar stool slides in, and someone sits down like they belong there.

Jongseong turns slightly on instinct, sharp and immediate, Because for a split second, his mind jumps. Someone noticed. Someone recognized him. Time to leave.

He's already calculating exits before he even fully looks at the person.

But then he does. And nothing makes sense.

No reaction. No shock. No stare. No flicker of recognition. Just… a stranger. The kind that looks entirely too calm to be sitting next to him right now.

Jongseong blinks once, caught off guard in a way he hasn't been all night.

"...Can I help you?" he asks, careful, guarded. Already halfway out of the seat in his head.

Because this is how it starts. Always.

But the guy doesn't flinch. Doesn't even look like he's trying to. Instead, he signals the bartender casually.

"I'll have whatever he's having," he says, like it's nothing.

Then he turns back to Jongseong. And smiles. It's not cautious. Not impressed. Not anything that makes sense in Jongseong's world right now. Just… easy.

"You look like you could use a friend."

Jongseong stares at him. A beat. Then, flatly, "I'm good, thanks."

He turns away immediately, like that should end it. Like that should reset the space back to how it was before.

But the guy doesn't leave. Doesn't even hesitate.

"Oh, really?" he says lightly.

Jongseong exhales through his nose, already tired of this interaction in a way he can't explain.

The guy leans back slightly, like he's getting comfortable. "I've been sitting at that booth over there for hours," he continues, gesturing loosely toward the back of the bar. "Trying to get some work done in this fine establishment."

There's a clear, playful emphasis on fine establishment, like he's insulting it and praising it at the same time.

Then his hand sweeps around the room. "And then you walked in," he adds, glancing at Jongseong, "with your very dramatic grey storm cloud situation."

Jongseong pauses.

The guy continues anyway, completely unbothered. "And you kind of just… dampened the whole mood."

There's no malice in it. No judgment. Just observation delivered like it's obvious. Like it's not a problem, just a fact.

That lands differently.

Jongseong finally looks at him again. Really looks this time. The guy is still smiling slightly, like he's not afraid of the silence between them. Like he doesn't need Jongseong to respond the way people usually do.

It's disarming. Annoyingly so.

"...I didn't ask for company," Jongseong says.

The guy nods like he expected that. "Yeah," he replies. "You look like someone who wouldn't."

A beat. Then, softer, but still teasing, "Doesn't mean you shouldn't have it."

Jongseong doesn't respond right away. Just looks at him. Really looks. Because there's something unsettling about how normal the guy is acting. Not in a loud, intrusive way. Not trying to get anything out of him. Just… there. Like he's decided Jongseong is not a problem to be solved or avoided, just a person sitting too still in a chair.

Which somehow makes it worse.

"I'm not in the mood," Jongseong says finally, quieter now. Tired in a way that leaks through even when he tries to keep it contained.

The guy hums like he's considering that. Then takes a sip of his drink when it arrives, like he already belongs here too.

"Okay," he says simply.

That's it. No pushback. No argument. Just acceptance.

Jongseong blinks slightly, thrown off by that more than anything else.

A beat passes. The guy glances at him again, head tilting a little.

"But I am in the mood," he adds, like it's a continuation of the same thought, "to not sit next to someone who looks like they're one bad thought away from dissolving into the counter."

Jongseong lets out a short breath through his nose. Not quite a laugh. Not quite nothing.

"I'm fine," he says again, but it comes out flatter this time.

The guy nods like he hears him, even if he doesn't fully believe him. "Mm," he replies. "That's usually what people say right before they stop being fine."

Jongseong's jaw tightens slightly. There it is. The shift. The part where people usually start asking questions that feel too close.

He looks away. Back to the counter. Back to his drink. Back to the phone he hasn't touched.

"I don't need a lecture," he mutters.

"Good," the guy says immediately. "Because I'm not qualified."

That pulls Jongseong's attention back again despite himself.

The guy is still smiling faintly, but it's softer now. Less teasing at the edges. More… present.

"I'm Jungwon, by the way," he adds, like it matters and like it doesn't at the same time.

Jongseong hesitates. Then, after a beat, "...Jongseong."

"Cool," Jungwon says, like he's just learned a fun fact about a stranger at a bus stop. "Hi, Jongseong."

A pause. Then, lightly, "You always sit in bars looking like that, or is today a special occasion?"

Jongseong exhales, sharper this time. Almost annoyed. "You talk a lot."

"I've been told," Jungwon agrees easily.

That earns the faintest twitch at the corner of Jongseong's mouth before he can stop it. He notices immediately. Looks away again.

Jungwon does too, but not in retreat. More like he's giving him space while refusing to disappear from it.

"You don't have to stay," Jongseong says after a moment, quieter now. "Seriously."

Jungwon nods once. "I know."

Beat. Then, "But I am staying."

Jongseong looks at him again, wary.

Jungwon just shrugs slightly. "I was here first," he says. "And also, " A small gesture toward Jongseong's untouched drink. "You still haven't even touched that. That feels like a waste of a perfectly bad night."

That gets him. Not a full reaction. But something cracks, just slightly, at the edge of Jongseong's expression.

"...It's not a bad night," he says automatically.

Jungwon tilts his head. "You sure?"

Jongseong doesn't answer. Because he isn't. Not really. And that silence is enough.

Jungwon leans back a little, giving him space again, but not leaving. "Okay," he says gently. "Then it's just a heavy one."

That word sits differently. Heavy. Not broken. Not wrong. Just… heavy.

Jongseong stares at his glass. Then finally lifts it. Doesn't drink yet. Just holds it.

"...You don't know me," he says quietly.

Jungwon hums. "Nope."

A pause. Then, softer, "But I think I get the vibe."

That should annoy him. It should. But instead, Jongseong just sits there. And for the first time all night, the silence doesn't feel like it's swallowing him whole.

Jongseong doesn't answer right away. Just sits there with his glass, turning it slightly in his hand like the motion gives him something to focus on that isn't this conversation.

"You talk a lot," he says again eventually, quieter now. Less sharp. More observation than rejection.

Jungwon nods without hesitation. "Yeah, I've been told that too," he says. Then, like it's completely unrelated, he adds, "I think it's because I work in a place where silence means someone forgot to email something important."

Jongseong glances at him.

Jungwon continues anyway, unfazed. "I'm here for work, actually," he says, gesturing vaguely with his drink. "Conference thing. Chicago. Very serious. Lots of people in suits pretending they understand what they're talking about."

A pause. Then, thoughtfully, "I understand about maybe forty percent of it. On a good day."

Nothing from Jongseong. So Jungwon just keeps going.

"And then I got out early because one of the speakers talked for too long about synergy, and I think I physically felt my brain leave my body for a second."

Still nothing. But Jongseong hasn't told him to leave again either.

Jungwon notices that. Leans slightly into the stool, glancing at him sideways. "What about you?" he asks casually. "You from here?"

A beat. Jongseong hesitates. "Not really," he says.

Jungwon hums. "That sounded very emotionally complicated for two words."

"It's not."

"Mm," Jungwon replies. "That's also what emotionally complicated people say."

Jongseong exhales through his nose, faintly tired, but not pushing him away. "I'm just passing through," he says finally.

"Same," Jungwon says. "Well. Kind of. Except I'm passing through aggressively, like I'm personally offended by how many airports exist in my life."

That earns him a look. Jongseong watches him for a second longer than before.

"...You always talk like this?" he asks.

"Like what?"

"Like you're avoiding saying anything specific."

Jungwon pauses. Then laughs softly. "No," he says honestly. "I just don't like making things heavier than they already are."

Something shifts in Jongseong's expression at that, subtle, almost imperceptible. Recognition, maybe. Or something close to it.

He looks down at his drink. "...I'm just passing through," he repeats again, quieter.

Jungwon nods like he hears what's not being said. "So am I," he says gently.

A small beat of silence passes. Then Jungwon tilts his head. "You're from Chicago?"

"No."

"Nearby?"

Another pause. "...Not really."

Jungwon nods slowly, like he's compiling a very important report. "So you're just mysteriously existing here in this bar with the emotional ambiance of a rain cloud."

That earns it. A flicker at the corner of Jongseong's mouth. Barely there. Almost like it didn't mean to happen. But it does.

And Jungwon sees it immediately.

"Oh," he says softly, like he's surprised it worked. "There it is."

Jongseong looks away a fraction too late. "...There what is."

"That," Jungwon says, pointing faintly at him with his glass. "That thing you just did."

Jongseong's expression tightens like he's trying to undo it. "It wasn't anything."

"It was definitely something."

A beat. Then Jungwon leans back slightly, satisfied in a way that feels too casual to be calculated.

"I'm counting that as progress," he says.

Jongseong finally looks at him again. "...Progress," he repeats flatly.

"Yeah," Jungwon nods. "From 'leave me alone' to 'mild emotional engagement.' That's growth."

Jongseong exhales, shaking his head slightly. "You're impossible."

Jungwon grins. "And yet," he says, easy, "you haven't told me to leave in a while."

A pause. Then, quieter, almost like Jongseong doesn't mean to say it out loud: "...Don't push it."

Jungwon's smile softens. "Okay," he says simply. "I won't."

And for some reason, that makes the silence between them feel less like absence.

They sit like that for a while. Long enough that the drinks settle. Long enough that the noise of the bar fades into something distant and unimportant.

At some point, Jungwon slides off his stool. Not leaving, just relocating.

He gestures across the bar. "I was over there," he says, nodding toward a booth tucked along the opposite wall.

Then he grabs his bag, brings it over, and pulls his stool in closer, close enough that their shoulders press together.

Jongseong feels it. Doesn't move away.

"...What are you doing?" he asks.

"Multitasking," Jungwon says, already opening his laptop. "You don't look like you're going anywhere, and I have to present tomorrow."

The screen lights up between them. Spreadsheets. Slides. Too many numbers.

Jongseong glances over despite himself. "You're in finance?"

"Accounting," Jungwon corrects. "Which means I stare at numbers all day and hope they don't fight back."

A small flicker at the corner of Jongseong's mouth.

Jungwon notices. Keeps going.

"I have to present this tomorrow," he says, clicking through slides. "And I hate public speaking."

"You'll be fine," Jongseong says.

"That's what everyone says."

"Don't pay attention to them."

Jungwon turns slightly. Their shoulders brush again. "That's easier said than done."

Jongseong shrugs. "Half of them won't even be listening."

"That's not comforting."

"It should be."

A beat. Then, "Pick a point on the wall," Jongseong says, like it's obvious. "Exit sign, clock, whatever. Just focus on that instead of people."

He grabs a fry from the plate, cold now, and eats it.

Jungwon doesn't answer right away. Just watches him.

Then, "Who are you?" he asks.

Jongseong pauses. "...What?"

"Have you done public speaking before?"

There's a beat. Jongseong looks down, brushing salt from his fingers.

"My dad taught me that," he says finally. "For talent shows. Back in school."

A pause. Jungwon's expression softens.

"He sounds like a great person."

Jongseong nods faintly. "Yeah," he says. A beat. "...He is, "

It stops there. Something shifts.

"...was."

The word lands heavier than anything else tonight. You can see it. The way his shoulders drop just slightly. The way his gaze loses focus for a second.

Jungwon notices immediately. "Oh, " he starts, wincing, already pulling back. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, I, "

"No, it's fine," Jongseong cuts in gently. He exhales, shaking his head a little. "It's just..." he trails off, then shrugs lightly. "He passed away not that long ago. It's still... fresh."

A small pause. Then, with a faint, almost self-aware smirk, he gestures vaguely around himself. "...H ence the grey cloud thing," he adds. "I think those were your words."

Jungwon groans immediately. "Oh my god," he mutters, dragging a hand over his face. "I'm actually the worst. I've been sitting here making jokes, "

Jongseong laughs. It's quiet. Soft. But real. "It's okay," he says. "Seriously."

Jungwon looks unconvinced.

Jongseong shakes his head, a little more certain this time. "I didn't expect tonight to turn out like this," he admits. "But... I'm glad it did."

A small pause. "I've been kind of... down since it happened," he adds. "So your presence was... needed."

He glances at him. "Thank you."

Jungwon presses his lips together, still pouting slightly, clearly not over the fact that he might've said something wrong.

"...Okay," he mutters reluctantly. "If you say so."

A beat. Then, like he needs to fix something, "I'll make it up to you. I'll get you another drink."

Jongseong shakes his head immediately. "No, no, it's okay. I'm actually cutting myself off for the night."

Jungwon nods slowly. "Oh... okay."

Jongseong reaches for his jacket, pulling it closer, and his phone slides out with it. He picks it up. The screen lights up. Missed calls. Messages. So many. The time.

His expression changes instantly.

"Holy shit," Jungwon blurts, leaning slightly to see.

Jongseong exhales sharply. "Yeah," he mutters, already standing. "I actually need to go."

He grabs his jacket, pulling it on, tugging a baseball cap low over his face. Then he pauses, looking back at Jungwon.

"...It was nice meeting you," he says. "And, thanks. For not taking no for an answer."

Jungwon huffs a small laugh. "Yeah. Of course."

Then, softer, "I hope everything works out for you," he adds. "And... I think your dad would want you to be happy. Or at least... not sitting in a bar by yourself pretending you're fine."

A small pause. "You're allowed to take your time," he continues. "But you don't have to go through it alone."

That lands. They look at each other for a second. Like there's more to say. Something unfinished.

Then, Jongseong's phone vibrates again in his hand. Reality cuts back in.

He exhales. "I have to go."

Jungwon nods. "...See you soon."

Jongseong frowns slightly. "Soon?" he repeats. "How are you so sure?"

Jungwon shrugs, a small, easy smile pulling at his lips. "I don't know," he says. "If it's meant to happen, we'll run into each other again. Somehow."

A beat. Then, a little lighter, "I'm optimistic like that."

Jongseong lets out a quiet breath. Shakes his head slightly. Then he turns, and he's gone. Out into the night. Catching a cab just outside, the neon lights reflecting off the window as it pulls away.

Jungwon watches it disappear down the street. Stays there for a second longer than he should. Then turns back to his laptop.

The bar feels quieter now. Different.

The bartender approaches, holding out a few bills. "Did that guy leave?" he asks.

Jungwon looks up. "...Yeah."

The bartender frowns slightly, holding the money out. "He left this. Didn't even take his change."

Jungwon blinks. "...What?"

"He paid a hundred," the bartender says. "Bill wasn't even close to that."

He shrugs, setting the money down before walking off.

Jungwon just stares at it. Then back toward the door. Confused. A little stunned. And somehow, not entirely surprised.

Jungwon's gaze lingers on the money, the crisp bills blurring as the bar's neon lights smear across his vision. The noise fades to a dull hum, and the memory, not a dream, but something more tangible, begins to dissolve.

"Jungwon?"

His name cuts through, distant at first, as though it belongs to someone else.

"Jungwon, baby. Hey. Jungwon."

Closer now. Too close. A gentle but persistent nudge against his shoulder.

Jungwon frowns, struggling to remain suspended between the dim bar and whatever lies beyond, but the scene dissolves anyway.

"…mm."

Everything feels wrong when he surfaces. Heavy. His head throbs immediately, a dull ache behind his eyes. His nose is completely blocked, throat dry, body too warm under the blanket like heat trapped beneath his skin.

"Jungwon."

A warm hand grips his arm. Real.

He forces his eyes open. The light hurts.

"…ow," he mumbles, voice thick and wrecked. He squints, then freezes.

", no," he whispers. Jongseong is there. Right there. Leaning over him, brows drawn together, eyes scanning his face with quiet worry. Too real.

"You're not real," Jungwon says, squinting harder. "You're in Canada."

Jongseong blinks. "What?"

"Tour," Jungwon continues, slow and certain. "Snow. Fans. Probably wearing something dramatic."

A beat. "…I'm dreaming."

Jongseong exhales softly, something in his shoulders loosening like he's relieved Jungwon is at least talking. "Baby," he says gently, "you're not dreaming."

Jungwon hums weakly. "That's exactly what dream-you would say."

He shifts slightly, immediately regretting it when his head pulses harder. "Also," he mutters, eyes slipping half shut, "this is very on brand for my brain. Fever dream. Of you."

"Jungwon."

A hand presses to his forehead. Cool. Grounding.

Jungwon frowns at the contact, blinking up at him again. "…wow," he whispers. "This is high quality. You even feel real."

Jongseong huffs a quiet, disbelieving breath. "You have a fever," he says.

"No," Jungwon murmurs. "You're in Canada."

"I'm not in Canada."

Jungwon stares at him. "…you're not in Canada," he repeats slowly.

"No."

"…then why are you here," Jungwon mumbles, confusion bleeding into his voice, "you need to be in Canada, not here…"

Jongseong's expression softens even more at that. He brushes his thumb lightly along Jungwon's temple. "Well," he says quietly, "when your boyfriend tells you he feels sick and then doesn't answer his phone for half a day… you can't really help but worry."

Jungwon's eyes flutter. He leans into the cool touch without thinking, pressing faintly into Jongseong's hand. "…I didn't mean to," he murmurs.

"I know, baby."

A pause. Jungwon's gaze drifts over his face again, slower this time. Still trying to piece it together. "…you look tired," he says softly.

Jongseong lets out a small breath of a laugh. "I just flew in this morning."

"That's stupid," Jungwon mumbles immediately.

"I know."

Another pause. Jungwon shifts, weakly pushing himself closer, until he's half tucked into Jongseong's chest, forehead resting against him like he doesn't have the energy to hold himself up. "…your tour," he murmurs, voice catching slightly. "Your fans…"

Jongseong's hand moves to the back of his head, steadying him there. "Don't worry about that," he says gently. "The next show isn't for another two days."

Jungwon shakes his head weakly against him. "No…"

"I'll be out of here before then," Jongseong continues. "As soon as you're better."

"And if I'm not…" Jungwon's voice wavers, small and miserable.

Jongseong doesn't hesitate. "Then I'll postpone."

Jungwon immediately shakes his head harder, a soft, strained protest. "No, you can't," he mumbles into his shirt. "You can't do that to your fans…" His voice cracks slightly, whether from the fever, the headache, or the weight of it, it's hard to tell.

Jongseong pulls back just enough to look at him. Then cups his face, carefully, thumbs brushing against his flushed cheeks, not even flinching at the mess of it. "Hey," he says softly. "Look at me."

Jungwon's eyes lift, glassy and unfocused. "You come before anything else, okay?"

Jungwon blinks. "…no," he whispers, shaking his head weakly. "I don't."

"You do," Jongseong says, firmer now, but still gentle. A pause. Then, softer, "Always."

Jungwon just stares at him. Eyes stinging. Overwhelmed in that quiet, feverish way where everything feels too much all at once. "…I feel like the worst boyfriend," he mumbles.

Jongseong's expression softens instantly. "You're not," he says.

Jungwon exhales shakily, leaning back into him again like it's the only thing keeping him steady. "…I thought I made you up," he murmurs, voice fading.

Jongseong lets out a quiet breath, hand smoothing lightly through his hair. "You didn't, baby."

A pause. Jungwon's eyes slip closed again. But this time, he doesn't fight it.

"…okay," he mumbles.

Then, barely audible, "…stay."

Jongseong presses his cheek lightly against the top of his head. "I'm not going anywhere."

The next time Jungwon wakes, it's quieter. Not the heavy, disorienting kind of quiet from before, just… soft. His body still feels off, but not as bad. The pounding in his head has dulled to a low ache instead of something splitting him open. His skin isn't burning the same way either, just warm now, manageable.

He blinks slowly. Takes a second to figure out where he is. His couch. His apartment. And, He shifts slightly. Clean clothes. Different from before. His hair still faintly damp at the ends.

Jungwon frowns a little, trying to piece it together, Then it clicks. "…you made me shower," he mumbles, voice still rough but less wrecked.

There's a quiet huff of a laugh above him. "You were half asleep," Jongseong says. "It barely counts."

Jungwon squints up at him. "You bribed me."

"I incentivized you," Jongseong corrects easily.

Jungwon exhales, too tired to argue, and lets his head fall back against his shoulder. The movement is easy now. Natural. Like it belongs there.

The TV hums quietly in front of them, some rerun of Jungwon's favorite sitcom playing, laugh track soft in the background. He remembers now. The porridge. Warm. Bland. Exactly what he needed even if he didn't want it. Jongseong sitting in front of him, patient, coaxing, "Just a few more bites, baby."

"I'm not hungry."

"And I'm not asking."

And then, "We can cuddle after."

That's what got him.

Jungwon huffs faintly at the memory, shifting closer without thinking, tucking into Jongseong's side. "…you manipulated me," he murmurs.

Jongseong hums. "And it worked."

Jungwon doesn't argue that. He just leans there, eyes half-lidded, listening as Jongseong talks. "…and the crowd was insane," he's saying. "Montreal's always like that, but last night, "

Jungwon hums softly, listening more to the sound of his voice than the words themselves. "…you did good?" he asks quietly.

Jongseong glances down at him. "Yeah," he says. "It was a good show."

Jungwon nods faintly. "…knew it."

A small pause settles between them, comfortable. Jongseong keeps talking, softer now, filling in little details, things Jungwon usually asks about when he's not half asleep. Jungwon listens. Really listens this time. Not through a phone. Not through broken connections or rushed calls between schedules. Here. Like this.

He shifts slightly closer, pressing into him just a little more. Jongseong's arm tightens around him instinctively. Everything feels… steady.

Then, The doorbell rings. Sharp. Sudden.

They both freeze. Jungwon shifts slightly against Jongseong's side, the warmth of him suddenly feeling… very noticeable. Jongseong's arm tightens instinctively around him before he stills, listening.

Another ring. Jongseong glances toward the door, then back down at Jungwon. "…are you expecting someone?" he asks quietly.

Jungwon blinks, still a little foggy but fully alert now. "No," he says. A beat. Then, slower, "…do you think it's Michael?"

Jongseong frowns slightly. "My driver? No," he says. "I told him he didn't have to stick around. I said I was spending the night with you."

Jungwon's stomach drops. The doorbell rings again. This time, a knock follows. Louder. More insistent.

They both stare at each other. "…you don't think it's my mom, right?" Jungwon whispers.

Jongseong shakes his head quickly. "No. I told her there wasn't any need to come check on you. I said I was here."

That does not help. At all.

Jungwon opens his mouth, But his phone starts ringing. They both flinch. Jungwon grabs it quickly, glancing at the screen. Coworker. He turns it slightly toward Jongseong. Jongseong's eyes widen just a fraction.

Jungwon swallows, then answers, voice small. "...hello?"

Jongseong leans in close without thinking, listening.

"Hey, Jungwon!" a familiar voice comes through, bright, warm. "It's Emily."

Jungwon's stomach drops further.

"Come open the door," she continues. "Me, Minji, and Daniel are here."

Both of them go still. Completely still.

"...what?" Jungwon breathes.

"We wanted to check on you," Emily says, softer now. "You said you weren't feeling well yesterday, and then you didn't show up today. We got worried."

Jungwon squeezes his eyes shut briefly. "No, you guys don't have to, " he starts quickly. "I don't want you getting sick too, it's fine, I'm okay, "

"We won't be long," Emily says gently. "We brought you some stuff, soup, medicine, all that. Just open the door, okay?"

Jungwon looks at Jongseong. Jongseong looks right back. Panic. Immediate. Mutual.

"I really think, " Jungwon tries again.

Another knock sounds through the door. "Jungwon?" Minji's voice calls this time, softer but concerned. "Please open up," Daniel adds.

The call ends. Silence. For exactly one second. Then, "Oh my god," Jungwon hisses.

"What do we do?" Jongseong shoots back in a whisper.

Jungwon looks around like the walls are closing in. "Okay, okay, you need to leave," he says quickly.

Jongseong stares at him. "Where am I gonna go?" he whisper-yells. "We're on the fifth floor, Jungwon!"

Jungwon freezes. "...okay," he says, thinking fast. "Then you need to hide."

"Hide?"

"In the bedroom," Jungwon says, already moving. "I'll try to get them to leave. Just, go. Be quiet."

He grabs Jongseong's wrist, pulling him toward the hallway. They move quickly, trying not to make noise but somehow making more of it.

Then, Jongseong stops. Jungwon nearly runs into him.

"What, what are you doing?" Jungwon whispers urgently.

Jongseong turns back to him. "What if we don't?" he says.

Jungwon blinks. "...what?"

"What if we don't hide?" Jongseong repeats, quieter but steady. "What if we just say I'm here."

Jungwon stares at him like he's lost it. "Now is not the time, "

"I'm serious," Jongseong presses. "Why do you have to hide me from your friends? At this point, "

"Jongseong," Jungwon cuts in, panic rising, "now is really not the time for this conversation."

Another knock echoes. Louder this time.

"We'll talk about it later," Jungwon insists, pushing him again. "Just, please. Go."

"But baby, what about, "

The bedroom door opens. Jungwon ushers him inside quickly. "Later," he says.

And shuts the door.

Jongseong's voice cuts off behind it.

Jungwon leans back against the door for a second, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to steady himself. Another knock.

"Jungwon?" Emily calls, gentle but worried.

He exhales. Pushes off the door. Walks to the front. Each step feels too loud. Too slow. He reaches for the handle. Hesitates.

Jungwon opens the door to find Emily, Minji, and Daniel standing there, a tableau of concern with plastic bags full of what looks like medicine and soup containers.

"Hey," Jungwon says, his voice coming out rough and thin. He leans against the doorframe, trying to look convincingly sick. "You guys really didn't have to."

"We were worried," Emily says, her eyes softening as she takes in his appearance. "You look awful."

"Thanks," Jungwon mumbles, stepping aside. "Come in, I guess."

As they file past him into the entryway, he busies himself with grabbing the house slippers he keeps for guests, his heart already thumping a nervous rhythm against his ribs. They toe off their shoes, and as Minji slips her feet into the fuzzy slippers, she pauses, her gaze fixed on the shoe rack.

"Jungwon," she says slowly, pointing with a slippered toe at a pair of black leather sneakers that are decidedly not his. They're expensive, sleek, and about two sizes too big for him. "Whose are those?"

Jungwon freezes. Every muscle in his body tenses. "Oh, um, they're, "

"Your mystery person's, I assume?" Emily finishes for him, a knowing look in her eyes.

Honestly, at this point, Jungwon is too tired and too feverish to come up with a convincing lie. He just nods, defeated. "Yeah, clearly."

He gives into the fact that he has someone here. It's not like he can deny it anymore, even if said person is currently hiding in his bedroom like a fugitive.

They move towards the living room, and Jungwon's stomach sinks further as he sees the evidence left on the coffee table: two mugs, one still with a faint ring of tea, and an extra set of plate and cutlery he'd used for the porridge.

"Oh, is he here?" Daniel asks, nodding toward the dishes.

Jungwon's mouth falls open. "No! He just left. Let me just… clean this up a bit."

He practically flees to the kitchen, grabbing the dishes and rinsing them with shaking hands. His back is to them, a flimsy shield, as they begin giving him the rundown of work and what he's missed today. He leans into the conversation, making the appropriate noises of agreement and surprise, all while his mind races.

"...and then Henderson wanted the reports by five, but we told him you were out sick so he's given you an extension," Emily is saying as Jungwon dries his hands and walks back into the living room.

"Thanks, guys," he says, genuinely touched as they hand him the bags of soup and medicine. "I really appreciate this."

He's setting the bags down when Daniel points toward the corner of the living room. "I didn't know you played guitar."

Jungwon literally pales. He knows he pales because he feels all the blood rush out of his face. If you were to look at him right now, he would be the same color as a sheet of paper. "How do you, ?"

Daniel is already gesturing. "That's a guitar case, right?" He's pointing at Jongseong's black, hardshell case leaning against the wall by Jungwon's seat.

Jungwon's mind goes blank. "Oh, um, "

Daniel, ever the curious one, is already making his way over to it. Inside Jungwon's head, a miniature version of himself starts running around in frantic circles as the building burns around him. Sirens are wailing. Tiny Jungwon is screaming. It's an utter disaster.

Daniel's hand reaches out, his fingers wrapping around the handle of the case.

"No, stop!" Jungwon rushes over, his voice sharp and panicked.

They all look at him, bewildered by his outburst. He has to physically calm himself, taking a deep breath to slow his racing heart.

"I'll show you," he says, trying for a casual tone that comes out strained. "It's just… it's precious to me. I don't let people hold it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Daniel says, immediately releasing his hold. "I should have asked before."

Jungwon carefully picks up the case, his movements deliberate as he places it down on the coffee table. In his head, he's thinking about how Jongseong really only lets him touch it. Because according to Jongseong, Jungwon is his baby, the love of his life, his lifeline, whatever you wanna call him, as Jongseong likes to let him know time and time again. He can do whatever he wants and Jongseong would just smile at him. But regardless of that, Jungwon likes to be careful, really only touching it if his boyfriend is around, not wanting something to happen to it.

He opens the latches slowly, his fingers fumbling slightly. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the guitar inside. He thanks whatever deity is listening that the guitar in front of him is Jongseong's Fender Eric Clapton Stratocaster Electric Guitar, aka Jane. Honestly, yes, it's an expensive guitar, but not as memorable or recognizable as Jongseong’s Duesenberg Johnny Depp Signature Series Electric Guitar, aka Jack, which his boyfriend opens each show with. Especially since all three of Jungwon's coworkers are massive fans of his boyfriend.

"Ooh, that's so cool," Minji says, leaning in closer. "The finish on it is beautiful."

"Yeah, it's a beauty," Daniel agrees. "What kind is it?"

Jungwon's mind scrambles for the answer Jongseong once gave him. "It's a Fender. A Stratocaster."

They're all "ohing" and "ahing" at it, asking him questions about it that he tries to answer the best he can with his limited knowledge and fever-addled brain.

"Can you play something for us?" Minji asks.

Jungwon once again feels like he could pass out right then and there. "Um, "

"It doesn't have to be anything crazy," she adds quickly. "Just something small, so we can hear it."

"Sure," Jungwon says, his voice barely a whisper. He slowly takes the guitar out of its case, the weight of it familiar yet terrifying. He tries to remember the chords Jongseong taught him, but of course, his brain has decided to cease all function. He makes a comment, "I'm still learning, so please don't judge me too hard."

They laugh with him as he positions his fingers on the fretboard. He takes a breath and strums. The sound that comes out is a slightly off-key, plodding version of what he thinks is "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

They clap for him when the last note is played, and Jungwon smiles sheepishly, a wave of relief washing over him.

A moment passes.

THUMP.

The sound of something falling comes from the bedroom.

They all look at each other, then at Jungwon.

"Are you sure your mystery person isn't still here?" Emily asks, a smirk playing on her lips.

Jungwon nods, his voice apprehensive. "Yeah, totally." He clears his throat. "Must have been my cat. Let me go check."

He doesn't have a cat.

As he's walking away, Jungwon swears he hears one of them say, “I didn’t know he had a cat,” and Jungwon wishes the ground would swallow him up right now. He looks back once to make sure none of them have followed him as he opens the door to the bedroom slowly and slips in, letting it click shut behind him.

No signs of his boyfriend are anywhere to be seen.

“Jong?” he whispers.

Then again, “Jongseong?” a little more fiercely this time.

Said boyfriend’s head pops out from underneath the bed, scaring Jungwon who lets out a welp and immediately shushes himself, holding his breath and listening for sounds from the living room.

“Everything okay, Jungwon?” Emily’s voice floats in.

“Yeah, just a bug! I’ll be right out,” he calls back, his heart hammering against his ribs.

He looks back at Jongseong, who is now crawling out from under the bed.

“Why are you under the bed?” Jungwon hisses.

“I thought you had brought them in here! It’s the only place I could think of,” Jongseong says, raising his hands in mock surrender, making a face.

A second passes, and Jongseong’s expression shifts to one of amusement.

“Was that you playing?” he asks, smirking at his boyfriend.

Jungwon flushes red, and this time it’s not from the fever.

“Maybe.”

“Like, with how many times I try and teach you, you would think you would sound better,” Jongseong teases.

At that, Jungwon hits him with the pillow.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Rockstar, I’m not as good as you! I have the attention span of a fish, you know this.”

Jongseong easily takes the pillow from his boyfriend, tugging it hard and pulling Jungwon towards him to stand between his open legs as he sits on the edge of the bed. He holds Jungwon’s hands in his.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes,” Jungwon says, “but I would be feeling a whole lot better once they leave.”

“Let me come out,” Jongseong says, tugging at Jungwon’s arms. Jungwon just shakes his head.

“Again with this? Why?” Jungwon asks, exasperated.

“Because I feel like we’re both living double lives,” Jongseong says, his voice suddenly serious. “And at first, I was fine with it. But I’m at the point in my career and my life where I want to show you off. I want to make out with you in public. I want to be on the front page of every magazine talking about how good-looking of a couple we are and how I’m so lucky to have found someone like you. I want everyone to know how much I love you and am obsessed with you.”

Jungwon listens to him, his anger melting away. He grips Jongseong’s hair, not hard, but holds his forehead against his own, breathing deeply. His other hand plays with Jongseong’s silver chain that he never takes off since Jungwon had given it to him last year as a gift. Jungwon shuts his eyes, taking in all his words. Before he can make up his mind and voice his decision, there’s a knock on the bedroom door and his name being called out.

Jungwon releases Jongseong and faces the door as Jongseong stands and stares at the door too.

“Jungwon, can you come out here for a second?”

Jungwon mouths “be quiet” to Jongseong, who follows him footstep by footstep to the door. Jungwon slides out, pasting a shy smile on his face as he comes face to face with the three of them, Emily, Minji, and Daniel.

“Hi,” he says.

They give him a look.

“He’s still here, isn’t he?” Emily says. “We heard you talking to someone.”

Before he’s able to answer, Minji adds, “Your mystery person, boyfriend, or whoever…”

And again he’s cut off before he’s able to respond.

“Just bring him out, it’s fine,” Daniel says.

Just then, Jungwon hears another thump from behind him in the bedroom, knowing Jongseong probably did it on purpose.

Jungwon relents and sighs.

“Fine. Just go wait in the living room, please. We’ll be right there.”

As they leave, the door cracks open behind him. Jungwon glares at his boyfriend, who smiles sweetly, as if he’s innocent.

“I love you,” he whispers.

Jungwon mumbles, “Yeah, yeah, just wait behind the wall. Let me talk to them first.”

As they head towards the upcoming slaughter, Jungwon thinks to himself.

“Okay, before anything, please know it’s not like I didn’t want to ever tell you guys. It’s just… the situation is complicated.”

One of them goes, “He’s not a murderer or anything, are you being held against your will?”

And Jungwon is like, “No, nothing like that. Just promise me not to freak out.”

“OMG, is it an actor? Is it a famous person?” Emily says. “Is it Henderson?”

“What? No! Eww, Henderson is our boss and he’s like 80, please. I have more respect than that.”

“Just… okay… fuck my life.”

Jungwon looks over to where Jongseong is behind the wall and extends his hand out to him. Slowly, Jongseong extends his arm out, hand reaching, interlacing fingers with Jungwon’s as he makes his way from behind the wall, coming into view. Granted, he’s not in the most rockstar-worthy outfit, black hoodie with grey basketball shorts and his Seattle Mariners baseball cap backwards in Jungwon’s cat house slippers, but who’s judging.

He stands next to Jungwon, and it’s quiet for a whole minute. The couple looking at the rest, waiting for expressions, shouting, jumping, anything. But nothing comes.

Then Minji stands and turns to face the other two, extending her hands out to them, and says, “That’ll be $10, please and thank you.”

And at that, the couple is taken by surprise. “Wait, what?”

Minji turns around. “I knew it was gonna be Jay.”

Emily goes, “I had money on it. I thought it was on that hot actor from the Love Lies Within drama.”

And Daniel is like, “I thought it was gonna be a normal person. No offense, Jay.”

Jongseong is like, “None taken.”

And Jungwon is still in disbelief and literally is like, “Wait, what the fuck? I’m lost.”

Minji explains how she’d suspected for a while now.

“The Michael being his driver, I knew I recognized him the day he picked you up. The way he’s saved in your phone as ‘meowrockstar.’ You left your computer open at work one day and I saw the flight confirmation for London the same week he was performing there. Plus, when I came over a few weeks ago, I saw the photo on your bookshelf of the two of you together, and I found it odd since you said you didn’t know him. And the guitar, aka Jane, kinda sealed the deal for me.”

Once the shenanigans are explained, the atmosphere in the room shifts from stunned silence to genuine curiosity.

"So, why all the secrecy?" Daniel asks, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

Jungwon sighs, leaning into Jongseong's side. "It was just... easier. Complicated."

"How did you guys even meet?" Emily pipes up.

Jungwon briefly mentions, "In Chicago. For that panel that we spoke at three years ago. I was at a bar and he walked in."

"All grey cloud and moody, as I recall you saying," Jongseong adds, a smirk playing on his lips, making them and Jungwon laugh as Jungwon playfully whacks his boyfriend's arm.

"Yes, I called him that with reason," Jungwon says, trying to sound stern. "And he parted ways. I had a concert that night, but he didn't know who I was till many months later in the relationship."

"Then to my surprise, days after the conference, I get this email from this random person," Jungwon continues, rolling his eyes at the memory. "It's like, 'You did well in your presentation.' Low and behold, he somehow managed to sneak into the panel, watch us present, found out the company I work for, and sent me the email like a stalker."

"Hey, you were the one that said we were going to meet again one way or another," Jongseong defends himself, holding his hands up.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Jungwon mumbles, then adds for the benefit of his friends, "But I wasn't lying when I told you all I don't really listen to that music. Even back then, I didn't. I only really know now because of Jongseong."

One of them, Emily, of course, coos. "Aww, so cute. You call him Jongseong instead of Jay."

The couple laughs and blushes in unison.

"We try to be as normal as we possibly can be, even though it's hard," Jongseong says, his tone sincere as he looks at Jungwon's coworkers. "But I'm glad I'm able to widen the circle of people that know we're together. If not for my sake, then for Jungwon's. And please don't hate him for not saying anything. It was mutual on both our ends to not reveal anything."

"You say that now," Jungwon says, looking up at him, "as if you haven't been wanting to officially go public within the last few months."

Jongseong laughs, a soft, genuine sound. "Okay, fair point. But at least now you have people you can discuss this with and complain about me when I bother you."

"Please, you can never do that," Jungwon says, his voice soft as he instinctively reaches up to caress his boyfriend's jaw, forgetting for a moment they aren't alone. He blushes hard when he realizes what he's done, snatching his hand back.

"Oh please," he says, gently cupping Jongseong's jaw without thinking, thumb brushing his cheek. "You could never be annoying."

He freezes a second later. Realizing. The room. The audience. His coworkers. His hand drops like it's on fire.

"…I forgot people are here," he mumbles.

Emily looks like she's trying not to scream. "This is unreal."

Minji is already grinning. "I'm never letting this go."

Daniel, quietly: "Jay Park is your boyfriend."

Jongseong just waves it off like it's nothing. "Yeah," he says simply. "Hi."

And that somehow makes it worse.

After that, it breaks. All at once. Questions, laughter, disbelief.

Emily is fully leaning forward now. "Wait, wait, like Jay Park Jay Park?"

Minji is nodding rapidly. "THE Jay Park?"

Daniel looks like he's malfunctioning. "I listened to him on the way here, what do you mean he was under your bed five minutes ago?"

Jongseong shrugs. "Accurate."

Jungwon groans into his hands. "This is my life now," he mutters.

But despite everything, he's smiling.

Because Jongseong, still sitting there like he belongs in the middle of all of it, eventually picks up the guitar case again. "Jane," he says casually, like he's introducing a friend.

And when he starts playing, it's effortless. Easy. Like breathing. The room goes quiet again, but this time in a different way. Emily stops mid-sentence. Daniel leans back, stunned. Minji just murmurs, "Oh my god."

And Jungwon, Jungwon doesn't even pretend anymore. He just watches. Like an idiot in love. Completely obvious. Completely gone for him.

♬⋆.˚

Time passes, and Jungwon is in his newly appointed office, actually after his promotion to team lead after his old team lead stepped down and retired. He's busier than ever, but contrary to what his boyfriend sometimes thinks, Jungwon loves his job. Jongseong is back in town for a short while, recording and filming content, at least that's what he tells Jungwon as they spend time together back and forth from their apartments. And one might think, if they've been together for so long, why don't they just move in together? Well, with wanting to keep their privacy, it wouldn't make sense for Jungwon to be living in Jongseong's high-end penthouse... yet, anyways, he thinks, by the way Jongseong keeps wanting to go public, but they haven't really talked about doing it yet, still up in the air.

Jungwon's at work, looking over the latest report that was given to him this morning, when there's a knock on his door. "Come in," he calls out.

It's Emily, popping her head in. "Hey, you have a visitor."

Jungwon is confused. "Who is it? Not like I was expecting anyone."

Emily smiles. "I think you'll be happy once you see who it is."

The lightbulb in Jungwon's head goes off as he looks at Emily. "No... don't tell me he's actually here." He says and rushes to stand, following her out as they head towards reception. "He is? I couldn't believe it when I saw him, I swear I looked like a cartoon character. I'm assuming you didn't know he was coming by your facial expression."

"No, I certainly did not," Jungwon says, his mind racing. "Who's up there?"

"Sooha."

Okay, good, Jungwon thinks. Sooha is an older lady they have as the receptionist, so she wouldn't be able to tell who Jongseong is. And thankfully, Emily came and got him instead of anyone else.

They reach the reception area and find his boyfriend sitting next to Sooha as she proceeds to show him pictures of her grandchildren on her phone.

"Thanks, Emily," Jungwon says quickly. "You can go. Actually, can you send everyone to lunch and move my meeting to later?" he says as he notices the time. She nods, going to get Sooha and explaining they're headed to lunch as Sooha and Jongseong say their goodbyes.

Jongseong looks over at his boyfriend, who is looking like an angry cat. "Baby," he calls out to Jungwon.

"No," Jungwon says. "You don't get to 'baby' me," he mocks his boyfriend. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought you lunch," Jongseong replies with a grin. "I figured I was around, might as well come say hello to my boyfriend." He hides his head down as Jungwon's coworkers start filing out, and Jungwon hauls him to follow him to his office.

Thankfully, his office isn't glass to see through, because once the door is shut, Jongseong removes his hat and mask as he goes to kiss Jungwon. And regardless of trying and failing to be upset with him, Jungwon kisses him back, feeling the slight stubble bite against his skin. He pulls away, muttering, "You need to shave," as he makes his way towards the takeout bag Jongseong brought with him.

They proceed to eat, talking about their day, complaints and all, whether it be about numbers or lyrics not sitting right. Once they're done, Jungwon goes to throw the trash out, not wanting it to stink up his office, and comes back to find Jongseong sitting in his big, leather desk chair.

"Find a comfortable spot?" Jungwon jokes.

Jongseong leans back, spinning slightly. "You know, it feels good to be in charge."

Jungwon saunters over, not really intending to saunter, but it happens, and pulls himself up onto his desk, sitting right in front of Jongseong. "Oh yeah?" he says, his voice dropping. "How good does it feel?"

The energy in the room shifts, charging the air between them. They stare at each other, hungrily, even though they just ate. "I haven't had my dessert yet," Jongseong says, his eyes dark.

"You didn't bring any," Jungwon replies, playing along.

Jongseong's gaze is intense. "I'm staring right at it."

Jungwon leans down to kiss him, and Jongseong meets him halfway, his hands immediately running up and down Jungwon's thighs, squeezing them, then grabbing his ass and pulling him closer.

"Have I told you how good you look today?" Jongseong murmurs against his lips.

"Hmm, no, not really," Jungwon says, breathless.

"Well, you know you always do," Jongseong says, his hands sliding under Jungwon's turtleneck. "But the all-black outfit is really something. And the turtleneck... let me guess, are you hiding the marks I gave you last night? I love knowing one slip and someone is bound to notice." He smirks. "But you know, your hair this length has been driving me crazy. I hope you never cut it." Jongseong's voice is a deep murmur that strikes a chord within Jungwon. He strokes Jungwon's long dark hair.

"I need to cut it," Jungwon says, blowing said bangs out of his way. "The bangs are driving me insane."

"I love holding onto it, though," Jongseong says with a smirk.

"Oh yeah? Why don't you show me then how you like to hold it."

Their kiss turns frantic, a messy, desperate making out session. Jongseong stands between Jungwon's open legs, kissing him deeply before proceeding to lean him back on the desk. He pulls away as Jungwon gasps, "We don't have much time."

"Baby, you know I'm a master at making you fall apart on a crunched time," Jongseong says with a wicked grin.

"I don't have lube," Jungwon tells him, "but there's lotion in my drawer."

Jongseong pulls a small packet of lube from his jacket pocket, smiling. Jungwon groans. "Of course, you came with an ulterior motive. Why am I not surprised?"

They continue making out, Jungwon needy and handsy, Jay opening him up best he can under the circumstances. His fingers are slick and precise, scissoring inside Jungwon, stretching him just enough. Then, Jongseong flips Jungwon over to lean over his desk. The cool wood presses against Jungwon's heated chest as Jay enters him, slow at first.

They go at it soft at first, but Jungwon pushes back against Jay, needing more, to feel him hard and fast, so he remembers Jay between his legs for the rest of the day, every time he moves and sits. "Make me remember you," Jungwon says to him, and that triggers Jay.

He fucks Jungwon hard, and it's loud and noisy from both of them, groaning and grunting and whimpers and the slick, filthy sound of flesh meeting flesh. Jongseong grips Jungwon's hair, pulling on it, pulling him back at times, showing Jungwon just how much he loves him with every deep, punishing thrust. The office fills with the scent of sex and sweat, the creak of the desk a steady rhythm to their frantic pace. Jungwon is a mess, drooling slightly onto the polished wood, his moans muffled by his own arm. Jongseong leans over him, his chest to Jungwon's back, his breath hot against his ear.

"Look at you," Jongseong growls, his voice a low rumble. "Taking my cock so well in your fancy office. My pretty team lead."

Jungwon can only whine in response, pushing back to meet his thrusts, wanting more, wanting all of him. Jongseong reaches around to wrap a hand around Jungwon's leaking cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. It's too much, too perfect, and with a final, sharp cry, Jungwon comes all over his desk and his own stomach. The clenching of his muscles around Jongseong sends him over the edge, and with a deep guttural groan, Jongseong follows, filling him up, his hips stuttering to a halt.

They stay like that for a moment, panting, a tangle of limbs and sweaty clothes, the smell of their sex hanging heavy in the air. Jongseong presses a soft kiss to Jungwon's shoulder, a stark contrast to the roughness of moments before.

"God, I love you," he whispers, and Jungwon can only hum in agreement, too spent to form words.

Jongseong stays draped over him for another long moment, his weight a comforting, grounding pressure. Jungwon can feel his heartbeat, a frantic drum against his back that's slowly starting to match the rhythm of his own. He’s sticky, sweaty, and his desk is a mess, but a profound sense of satisfaction settles deep in his bones.

Finally, with a reluctant groan, Jongseong straightens up, carefully pulling out. The sudden emptiness makes Jungwon shiver, and he feels the slick, warm trickle of Jongseong's release start to slide down his thigh. He makes a soft, undignified sound.

"Stay there," Jongseong murmurs, his voice raspy. He disappears for a second, returning with a wad of tissues from the box on Jungwon's shelf. He's gentle as he cleans Jungwon up, his touch reverent. It's so at odds with the feral way he'd just been fucking him that it makes Jungwon's chest ache.

"You're insane," Jungwon mumbles into his arm, his voice muffled and hoarse. "Absolutely insane. My staff is going to be back in less than an hour."

"Plenty of time," Jongseong says, tossing the soiled tissues in the small bin by the desk. He helps Jungwon stand, his hands firm on Jungwon's waist. Jungwon's legs feel like jelly, and he wobbles slightly, leaning into him.

He looks down at his desk. Oh, it's a wreck. There's a smear of something he really hopes is just sweat on the quarterly report he'd been annotating, and a definite puddle of semen right next to his keyboard. He groans again, this time in dismay. "I'm going to have to disinfect my entire office."

Jongseong just laughs, a low, carefree sound that makes Jungwon's irritation melt away. He starts tucking himself back into his jeans, then pauses to help Jungwon pull up his pants. The turtleneck is askew, twisted around his torso, and when Jongseong smooths it down, his fingers linger on the dark mark peeking out from the collar.

"Told you," he says smugly, tracing the hickey with his thumb. "One slip."

Jungwon bats his hand away, but there's no heat in it. "Yeah, well, if someone hadn't ambushed me at my place of business, this wouldn't be an issue."

"Best surprise lunch ever," Jongseong counters, leaning in to steal another kiss. This one is slow and deep, a lazy exploration that leaves Jungwon breathless all over again. He tastes himself on Jongseong's tongue, and it sends a fresh jolt of arousal through him, a faint echo of what they just did. He pulls back before it can start up again.

"Go," Jungwon says, pushing lightly at his chest. "You need to get out of here before someone sees you."

"Fine, fine," Jongseong says, grabbing his hat and mask from the desk. He puts them on, once again becoming the anonymous stranger. But his eyes, visible above the mask, are soft and full of affection. "I'll call you later."

"Okay," Jungwon says. He walks him to the door, feeling a strange pang of reluctance. He wants to pull him back in and lock the door for the rest of the afternoon.

Jongseong pauses with his hand on the doorknob. "Hey," he says quietly. "You really do look good in charge."

Jungwon feels a blush creep up his neck. "Just go, you menace."

Jongseong's eyes crinkle into a smile. "Love you too, baby."

And then he's gone, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

♬⋆.˚

Another day, further down the line, Jungwon finds himself pulling up to a sleek, unassuming building. He texts Jongseong, I'm here pulling up now. A moment later, the familiar black town car door opens, and Michael, Jongseong's long-time driver and security, gives him a respectful nod.

"Jungwon." He escorts him inside the recording studio where Jongseong told him to meet him. Jungwon says hello to a few people who have seen him before, producers, assistants who know him by name. To others he hasn't, he keeps his head down, a practiced anonymity.

"Just through here," Michael tells him, leading him toward the main recording room.

Jungwon enters as Jongseong is in the recording booth, headphones on, his eyes closed in concentration as he listens to a playback. The sound engineer, a guy named Robert, notices Jungwon first and gives him a subtle nod. He presses a button on the intercom. "Jay, take five."

Jongseong's eyes open, immediately finding Jungwon. A smile breaks across his face as he sets his headphones down and comes out of the booth. Robert, sensing the need for privacy, tells them, "I'm gonna go find something to eat," before slipping out.

Jongseong immediately pulls Jungwon into a hug, burying his face in his neck. "Hey, you."

"Hey, yourself," Jungwon laughs, hugging him back. They sit next to each other on the worn leather couch. "What are you recording? How's the new album going?"

"It's coming along. This one's a little more… acoustic. Stripped back," Jongseong says, his thumb stroking Jungwon's knee. "What's up with you? You look like you have something on your mind."

"My mom called," Jungwon says. "Your mom called her. They met up for coffee. And now they want to come visit us. To have dinner together. Before the final shows of your tour."

Jongseong's face lights up. "That's amazing! I want you there for all of the shows, you know. Not just the last one."

Jungwon makes fun of him, a playful smirk on his lips. "What, you can't survive without me for a few days?"

"Of course not," Jongseong says, dead serious. "I thought you knew that." He leans in and captures Jungwon's lips in a sweet, lingering kiss.

As they sit there, Jongseong pulls out his phone and proceeds to take pictures of the two of them, then some solely of Jungwon, who is mid-laugh. Jungwon gets shy and embarrassed. "What are you doing?"

"I need to add to my folder of you," Jongseong says, completely unashamed.

Jungwon gives him a face. "What are you talking about?" He gets up and walks over to the soundboard, looking at all the complicated knobs and sliders.

Jongseong films him from behind, his voice a low murmur. "Look at him, so professional not knowing what anything means."

Jungwon pays no mind to him. "You're such a goofball. Why am I with you?"

"Because you love me," Jongseong replies instantly.

Jungwon turns and smiles at him, all 32 teeth showing, dimples caving into his cheeks, knowing he's not wrong.

After the recording session, during which Jongseong took even more pictures and videos of Jungwon just existing, the two leave hand in hand and end up at a rooftop restaurant where they frequently go. The staff is discreet enough that they don't have to hide, a luxury they've carefully cultivated over months of visits.

Jongseong sets his wine down as Jungwon proceeds to sip from his. He looks at Jungwon, his expression serious. "So, how about after the final shows… we go public."

Jungwon snorts. Literally snorts into his wine, making a mess all over himself. "I'm sorry, what?" he says, trying to clean himself up as Jongseong helps him with a napkin.

"Yeah, I think it's about time," Jongseong continues, his tone earnest. "This whole year, I feel like we've been talking and walking around the subject. But I think it's time. Wouldn't you say?"

Jungwon looks at him, searching his face. "Are you really ready for all that, though? The interviews, the speculation, your fans..."

"Honestly, yes," Jongseong says, his gaze unwavering. "You know where I stand and how I feel about you. I'm tired of hiding something that makes me this happy." He holds Jungwon's hand across the table. "Besides, I wrote three songs about you on this album alone. It's getting pretty obvious."

Jungwon thinks it over, the weight of the decision settling comfortably on his shoulders. He finally nods. "Okay. Let's do it." He smiles at his boyfriend and leans in to kiss him softly.

"Then we can move in together!" Jongseong says loudly and proudly.

Jungwon laughs at him. "One hurdle at a time, please! How about we get through your final shows first?" He pats his boyfriend's arm. "Hey, speaking of… do you think it's possible to get extra tickets for Emily, Daniel, and Minji? I know they tried getting tickets before they knew we were together and couldn't get any, but I feel like I need to repay them somehow for sticking with me through everything and even now, not saying anything."

"Sure, I don't see why not," Jongseong says easily. "Just get Michael a copy of their IDs and they'll be on the VIP list."

"VIP? Wait, what? I didn't think that far," Jungwon says, his eyes wide.

"I don't see why not," Jongseong says with a grin. "They're good people and they deserve this. And knowing them, they would have priceless reactions. I'm personally wanting to see it."

Jongseong laughs, and Jungwon can't help but laugh with him, the sound light and free, echoing against the city skyline. For the first time, the future doesn't feel like something to be hidden, but something to be shared.

♬⋆.˚

The final week of shows kicked off with a buzz of electric anticipation. Jungwon was there for all of them at the start of the week, a constant, calming presence backstage. He'd learned the rhythm of it all: the pre-show jitters, the post-show adrenaline, the quiet moments in between. The day before the final show, he gathered his three best friends.

"I have something to tell you," he said, trying and failing to keep a straight face as they sat in his living room.

Emily, Daniel, and Minji leaned in, their expressions curious. "Spill," Minji demanded.

"You're all invited to the final show," Jungwon said casually. "And you're on the VIP list."

The silence lasted for approximately half a second before it was shattered. Jungwon swore he went practically deaf with how high the three of them screamed. They launched themselves at him, a tangled mess of limbs and excited shouts, hugging him so tightly he could barely breathe.

"No way! No freaking way!" Daniel yelled, shaking Jungwon by the shoulders. "VIP? Jungwon, what did you do?!"

"Jongseong insisted," Jungwon laughed, trying to pry them off him. "He said you deserve it. And he wants a front-row seat to your reactions."

The next afternoon, a sleek black car, identical to the one Michael drove, pulled up to Jungwon's building. His friends were already waiting, practically vibrating with excitement. As Jungwon stepped out to greet them, another wave of squeals hit him.

"This has to be a dream," Emily whispered, her eyes wide as she stared at the town car. "Someone pinch me. Are we really about to go backstage at a Jay concert?"

"Pinch yourself all you want, it's happening," Jungwon grinned, ushering them inside. "We're getting there before soundcheck, so you'll get to see how it all comes together."

As they were escorted through the maze of backstage corridors, his friends couldn't contain themselves. "I still can't believe you're dating the infamous rockstar Jay," Minji said, nudging Jungwon. "Like, our Jungwon. The guy who once cried because he spilled ramen on his favorite hoodie."

"And you're just... okay with all this?" Daniel asked, his voice full of awe. "The secrecy, the crazy schedule?"

Jungwon smiled softly. "It's worth it. He's worth it."

They met up with Jongseong in a private lounge area. To Jungwon's surprise, Jongseong's mom was there, and so were his own parents, who had flown in for the final shows. The sight of his two families mingling, his mom already deep in conversation with Jongseong's, made his heart swell.

His friends, however, were having a moment. "Oh my god, it's his mom," Emily whispered, her eyes glued to the elegant woman. "And your parents! Jungwon, this is a family affair!"

Jongseong just laughed, wrapping an arm around Jungwon's waist and pulling him close. "Glad you could all make it," he said, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Ready for the tour?"

They were treated like royalty as they were led to a special VIP area by the side of the stage, just as the band began to filter out for soundcheck. It was then they watched the transformation. Jongseong, the warm, laughing boyfriend, stepped onto the stage, picked up his guitar, and became Jay. Even in a casual t-shirt and jeans, with the house lights still on, he commanded the space. He was focused, professional, calling out notes to the sound engineer, his voice carrying an authority that was captivating. A handful of lucky fans who had won soundcheck passes watched with rapt attention, and Jungwon's friends were right there with them, completely starstruck.

"He's... different," Daniel murmured, watching as Jay flawlessly nailed a complicated riff.

"That's Jay," Jungwon explained, his voice low. "Jongseong is the guy who buys me groceries and forgets where he put his keys. Jay is the performer."

As soundcheck continued, Jungwon did his best to explain what was happening. "See, they're adjusting the lighting for the third song," he'd point out. "And tonight's show has a few special changes compared to the others, but you'll have to wait and see." He was careful not to reveal too much, the secret of Jongseong's plan burning a hole in his pocket.

True to his word, Jongseong found them after soundcheck, armed with a stack of merchandise. He personally signed a poster for each of them, along with a tour t-shirt, and then insisted on taking photos with them in his full "Jay" attire, leather jacket, dark jeans, and the confident smirk that drove thousands of fans wild.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Emily kept repeating, clutching her signed poster to her chest.

As the venue filled, the energy shifted. The low hum of thousands of conversations, the thumping bass from the speakers, the collective anticipation, it was a living, breathing entity. When the lights finally went down, the arena erupted. A single spotlight hit the stage, and there he was. Jay.

The opening chords ripped through the darkness, and the crowd became a seething ocean of light and sound. From his spot at the soundbooth, Jungwon watched, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and adoration. On stage, Jongseong was magnetic. He didn't just play the music; he embodied it. His fingers flew across the fretboard of his guitar, shredding through solos with an effortless ferocity that left the crowd breathless. He moved with a raw, untamed energy, dancing and singing his heart out, his voice a powerful, emotive force that soared over the screaming fans. He was a rock god, a performer in his absolute element, and he was loving every single minute of it.

The show flowed seamlessly from high-octane rock anthems to soulful ballads. Then, during the slower portion of the set, the mood shifted. The stage lights dimmed to a soft blue, and Jongseong sat on a stool at the front of the stage, acoustic guitar in hand.

"What an insane tour this has been," he began, his voice echoing through the hushed arena. "Thank you. Thank you to every single one of you for coming out, whether this is your first show or your tenth. Your energy has been everything."

A warm wave of applause washed over him. "If many of you remember at the start of the tour," he continued, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips, "I may have said some things that surprised some people."

At those words, Jungwon tensed. He didn't know where this was going. He could feel the eyes of his friends and family, standing right beside him, suddenly shift to him. A knot of anxiety formed in his stomach.

"Well, I teased a song," Jongseong said, and the crowd cheered. "And it's actually gonna be coming out on the album at the end of this month."

The roar was deafening. An unexpected album announcement. "And I thought," Jongseong shouted over the noise, "what better way to celebrate the final show of this tour than by playing it for you all live, for the very first time."

He began to strum a gentle, heartfelt melody as his band kicked in softly behind him. Jungwon was still frozen, wide-eyed, trying to process. Minji leaned over, her voice a frantic whisper. "Did you know this was gonna happen?!"

Jongseong's voice, soft and intimate, cut through the music. "As many of you know, I lost my dad a few years ago. And in the middle of all that grief, this person... this loud, bratty, mouthy, doesn't-take-no-for-an-answer person sat down next to me in a bar all those years ago and turned my life completely upside down. To the point that I just had to track them down the next day."

He paused, his eyes scanning the crowd, a tender smile on his face. "Now, he doesn't know this was happening tonight, and I'm sure he's as surprised as the rest of you. But Jungwon baby," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "I've loved you from the moment we met, and I'm gonna continue loving you till the day I die."

And just like that, his gaze found Jungwon, standing exactly where he always was, by the soundbooth. A single, bright spotlight snapped on, pinning him in place. His face, shocked and frozen, appeared on the massive screens on either side of the stage for everyone in the arena to see. He felt a sharp pinch on his arm, Minji, waking him from his stupor. As the reality of Jongseong's words crashed over him, a slow smile spread across his face, one of those giant, toothy, dimpled smiles that Jongseong loved so dearly. He processed the words, the public declaration, the love, and sent a flying kiss back towards his boyfriend on stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Jongseong's voice rang out, clear and proud. "This one is called 'Anchor'."

As he began to sing, the screens behind him transformed. They filled with photos and videos. All the pictures Jongseong had secretly taken of him. Them. Throughout the years. A candid shot of Jungwon laughing in the recording studio. A video of him trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue during their first anniversary trip in the mountains. A blurry photo from a birthday dinner, Jungwon's face illuminated by candlelight. A clip of them curled up on the couch, fast asleep during a movie marathon. There were moments of pure, unadulterated joy, Jungwon cheering wildly at a soccer game, his face painted in team colors. There were quiet, tender moments, Jungwon reading a book, his brow furrowed in concentration, with Jongseong's hand resting possessively on his knee. The montage was a love letter, a visual diary of their private world, now shared with thousands. Jungwon realized with a jolt that this was what Jongseong meant by his "folder of him." It wasn't just a collection of photos; it was an archive of their entire relationship, the foundation of their life together.

He stood there, bathed in the spotlight, watching their life flash before his eyes. The initial shock melted away, replaced by a profound, overwhelming warmth. He glanced over at his parents, who had tears in their eyes, and then at his friends, who were openly sobbing and hugging each other. He looked back at the stage, at Jongseong, who was pouring every ounce of his soul into the song, his eyes never leaving Jungwon's. And in that moment, Jungwon thought to himself that honestly, this wasn't such a bad way to go public. It was chaotic, it was terrifying, and it was utterly, completely them. He was happy Jongseong did it this way.

The song ended, and for a moment, there was a stunned, reverent silence before the arena exploded into the loudest ovation of the night. The love and support from the crowd was a tangible force, a wave of acceptance that washed over Jungwon, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in years. Jongseong gave him a final, private smile from the stage before launching back into the high-energy finale, his performance even more electrified than before, fueled by the freedom of his truth.

After the show, the backstage area was a whirlwind of controlled chaos. Jungwon was immediately mobbed by his friends and family, all talking at once.

"I can't believe it!" Minji cried, wiping tears from her eyes. "A song! A whole song! And the pictures! I'm never going to be normal again!"

"Did you see the crowd's reaction?" Daniel added, his face flushed with excitement. "They love you, man! They love you guys!"

His mom just hugged him tight, whispering, "We're so proud of you, sweetheart."

Through it all, Jungwon kept his eyes on the corridor where the band would emerge. When Jongseong finally appeared, sweat-soaked and glowing, the crowd parted for him. He didn't go to his manager or his bandmates first. He made a beeline straight for Jungwon, pulling him into a fierce hug right there in the middle of everyone.

"You," Jongseong murmured into his hair, his voice hoarse from singing. "You're my anchor."

Jungwon buried his face in his boyfriend's neck, breathing in his familiar scent of sweat, cologne, and home. "You're completely insane," he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. "But I love you so much."

♬⋆.˚

The next morning, the world felt different. Jungwon woke up tangled in Jongseong's arms, the morning light filtering through the curtains of Jongseong’s penthouse. Jongseong was already awake, watching him with a soft smile.

"Morning, rockstar," Jungwon mumbled, his voice raspy. A faint, pleasant ache settled in his muscles as he shifted, a subtle reminder of how late they'd gotten in after the show, and how many times they'd celebrated their new freedom before finally collapsing from exhaustion. He was acutely aware of the constellation of love marks blooming along his collarbone and down his chest, a secret map of the previous night's passion hidden beneath the sheets.

"Morning, public figure," Jongseong teased, leaning in to kiss him. "You ready to see what we've done?"

Jongseong handed him his phone. The screen was a blur of notifications. Twitter, Instagram, news alerts. The headlines were everywhere: "JAY OF JAY AND THE RIFFS COMES OUT AT FINAL TOUR SHOW," "Rockstar Jay Dedicates Love Song 'Anchor' to Mystery Boyfriend Jungwon," "Fans Rally Behind Jay and His Anchor in Heartwarming Coming Out."

He scrolled through photos taken by fans in the crowd, the moment the spotlight hit him, the flying kiss, the tears on his parents' faces. There were clips of the song, the audio already clear and powerful. He found threads of fans dissecting every lyric, every picture from the montage, celebrating their idol's happiness. It was overwhelming, but it wasn't scary. It was… beautiful.

"They're calling you 'The Anchor,'" Jungwon said, looking up at Jongseong, his eyes shining.

"Only because I'm tethered to you," Jongseong replied softly. "How are you feeling? Honestly?"

"Honestly?" Jungwon set the phone down, snuggling closer, the sheets pooling around his waist. "I feel... free. And really, really hungry. Can we order food and just hide from the world for, like, a day?"

Jongseong laughed, a deep, happy sound. "We can do whatever you want. The world can wait." He leaned in, capturing Jungwon's lips in a slow, deliberate kiss that was anything but chaste. It was a kiss that spoke of lazy mornings and no obligations, of rediscovering each other without the weight of a secret. Jungwon's hand came up to cup the back of Jongseong's neck, his fingers tangling in the hair there as he deepened the kiss, the rumble in his stomach momentarily forgotten. The hunger for food could wait; the hunger for his boyfriend, however, was making a very compelling, and very immediate, comeback.

♬⋆.˚