so many krisoo feelings lately

[ariagrimalti]

Postée à l'origine par kenkabu sur so many krisoo feelings lately
Details: D.O/Kris; PG; 11,200 words.
Summary: Kyungsoo, navigating fears and fans and feelings.

Hat Trick

Chinese airports are the hardest to deal with. The fans are intense in a different way here, desperate after months of only Korean promotions, nursed greedy on fancams and fansubs and time zone differences. Sustenance without enough flavour. They fight like gladiators to touch them, hands grabbing tightly as if it were possible to root them there in China if they held on long enough. Worse is the language issue, because they don't understand when Kyungsoo says, "Please, let me through, please be careful, excuse me, please." Or maybe they do, but pretend not to? Possible. Kyungsoo's stopped being surprised at the extent fans are willing to go for what they want.

Being short makes navigating mobs like trying to wade through open ocean. He gets pushed and pulled with the sway of the crowd's current, too strong for him to swim through directly. He can barely see over the tops of the girls' heads, and he has to crane his neck up to search for the familiar heights of Chanyeol and Kris to make sure he's still walking in the right direction. A few metres ahead, there's Chanyeol's blue snapback peeking over the hill of his white hoodie; Kris has been diverted elsewhere. Behind Kyungsoo, he can just barely hear Lu Han's tired but incessant voice, saying the same thing in Mandarin over and over again as the fans shriek around him. Everyone else could have been eaten alive, for all Kyungsoo knows.

Out of the mashed sea of bodies, a strong hand darts out and grabs a hold of his jacket, and refuses to let go. Kyungsoo turns to say, "Excuse me," but he stops when he sees who it is.

This sasaeng is the bane of Kyungsoo's existence. She goes the extra mile and then some: stalking their dorms, following them in taxis, trying to sneak into men's bathrooms-the security guard of their dorm once caught her going through the building's trash. She tells him that she'll follow him forever, even into the afterlife. She shows off the bruises she gets for beating her way past other fans as if she wants him to be proud of her. The way she says his name makes him want to scrub at himself until he's raw and every cell she's touched is washed down the drain. Once Kyungsoo had a dream that she suffocated him in his sleep, scooped out his innards, and then wore his skin like a bodysuit.

"Kyungsoo-yah," she says, eyes glittering.

"I-stop," he says, trying to pull back against her tugging. She tightens her grip until it hurts.

"I missed you," she screams in his face. The swarm of fans around them heaves in reaction, like a lurching wave. He's going to get swept in; he's going to drown.

Another arm darts out and grabs his wrist, right beside the sasaeng's hand, anchoring him down.

"Let go of him," Kris says coldly. He pushes out of the crowd like it's nothing.

The sasaeng takes a step back. And maybe in surprise, she loosens the crushing ring of her fingers, enough for Kyungsoo to escape. Immediately Kris is sliding an arm around Kyungsoo's shoulders and leading him away. The crowd still is rallying around them, cameras clicking like mad insects, but they actually make way for Kris when he walks through. Kyungsoo keeps as close to him as possible, heart still pounding. When he looks backwards, he can't make out where the sasaeng had been.

"Almost there," says Kris, and it's like they break through the limit, because suddenly there are security guards and rope borders and their managers hustling them towards the blessedly empty space of the business class lounge. Kyungsoo sucks in a deep breath of cool air.

Kris' hand drops off Kyungsoo's shoulders. "You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," says Kyungsoo. The glass doors of the lounge swing shut behind them and the cheering of the crowd mutes to a dull ring. "Thanks for that."

"It's good to use my height for something," jokes Kris.

Kyungsoo looks up at him. "Are you saying it's my fault I got swamped, because I'm short?"

Kris stares, taken aback. "No, not at all-"

"I'm kidding," Kyungsoo says. Kris' lips push out a bit.

"You're funny," he says. He lays one huge hand on Kyungsoo's back, patting reassuringly, before heading over to where Zitao is sitting, waving his cell phone at Kris.

Kyungsoo watches him sit down, run his fingers through his blond hair, smile encouragingly at whatever Zitao is showing off. Kyungsoo shakes out his limbs, shedding off the lingering residue of sourness the fan mob left on him. Kris glances up, meets his eyes. He flashes a peace sign and a smirk. Something inside Kyungsoo drops, like a rock in a glass-smooth lake. His heart starts pounding again, for a different reason.

"You're my favourite in K," Kris said to him once. Kyungsoo knew not to take it personally. It'd been preceded by, "Chanyeol, stop biting my cap, I can feel it," and followed by, "Until Sehun gets back with my coffee." Being Kris' favourite in K was like winning five thousand won in a weekly lottery. You felt good for about two minutes, then you got over it. It wasn't any great feat because Kris' favourite rotated depending on who gave him the most sincere compliments in the morning; that was why Zitao oscillated so much between his top three and bottom three.

So when Chanyeol slides up behind Kyungsoo in the line for boarding and whispers, "So you and Kris," like he's passing on classified political secrets or something, Kyungsoo just raises his eyebrows.

"What about?" he says.

Chanyeol's grin necessitates sunglasses. "You guys are getting pretty cosy lately, don't you think?"

Kyungsoo squints at him. Usually he can tell where Chanyeol draws the line between teasing and taunting, but Kyungsoo's been wrong before. And this is Kris. Chanyeol actually cares about Kris. "If you're jealous-"

"Please," Chanyeol snorts, waving his hand. "If I was your competition for Kris, you'd have been eating my dust light years ago-like, predebut. Eating it and shitting it back out. As a fart cloud of loser dust."

"What vivid imagery," deadpans Kyungsoo.

"My point isn't about Kris here. Kris is obvious. I'm asking about you."

"Asking what about me?" Kyungsoo snaps.

"Don't play dumb," Chanyeol says, a smirk peeking out of his lips. "I saw you guys walking together through that crowd. You were looking up at him like he was Iron Man and you were that fan with the communications RV."

"He pried a sasaeng off me. I was grateful."

"I've pried sasaengs off you. So has Jongin. And so have manager hyungs, a million more times. But I've never seen you look up them like you were looking at Kris."

"Well, Kris is very tall," Kyungsoo says flatly.

"Come on, that's not what I-"

"And you are very jealous. Of Kris, it seems."

"Gross," Chanyeol laughs, finally leaning back and taking his cocky grin out of Kyungsoo's punching range. "All right, be like that. I'll just tell you that you guys looked really cute together, and send my well-wishes to you through prayer."

"Please save your efforts and pray for more sanity and a new pair of eyes instead," says Kyungsoo, turning around when the stewardess calls for the next person in line. Kyungsoo holds out his flight ticket but Chanyeol slides smoothly in front of him, grabbing Kyungsoo's ticket and switching it for his. He bows to the stewardess. "He wanted the window seat," he explains, then dashes down the jet bridge without looking back.

Kyungsoo chalks it up to Chanyeol just wanting to be pointlessly annoying until he boards the plane and finds his new seat.

"Oh, hey," says Kris, getting up so Kyungsoo can slide past him. He has to stoop an alarming amount to keep his head from bumping the overhead compartment bin. Kyungsoo barely needs to bend at all. Kris takes Kyungsoo's bag without asking and stows it away for him.

"Are you and Chanyeol playing some sort of game?" he asks. "I thought he was supposed to sit beside me, but he's over there beside Jongdae. And when he was walking passed me he gave me a thumbs up and this demonic wink."

"Would you ever admit responsibility to anything Park Chanyeol does?" asks Kyungsoo.

"Nope," says Kris, and sits back down quietly.

The universe really screwed everyone over-especially Kyungsoo-by gifting Chanyeol with a brain that's half purposefully irritating and half irritatingly perceptive. As much as Kyungsoo doesn't like to admit that Chanyeol possesses a) reasonable levels of intelligence, and b) enough insight into Kyungsoo to fill in a pocket encyclopedia, it's hard to argue in face of facts. The facts being presented thus: Kris' sleeping body in the aisle seat, slouching left, five centimetres from toppling over onto Kyungsoo's shoulder, and Kyungsoo not moving away.

Push him back the other way, he tells himself. He's going to be heavy and his hair is going to itch your nose. His cologne is too thick.

Kris' head slides another centimetre closer. Kyungsoo is as tense as a live wire. He doesn't budge.

This somehow must be Chanyeol's fault. Kyungsoo had been perfectly content in his purgatorial state, neither admitting to nor avoiding the recent swells of stomach pain he's been getting when he looks at Kris' face for too long. He'd been trying to treat it like a hangnail: prodding it would hurt, ignoring it would allow faster healing. He thought he hadn't showed any indication that he might have thought of Kris as anything else but a casual friend and roommate. Then Chanyeol had to come along and point out his injury like he could see it from a mile away, his attention opening up that small wound like a splitting gash, and then proceeded to rub salt all over the cut. Now the thing's there, gaping; possibly it will scar when healed shut, if Kyungsoo doesn't take more care. He needs to take more care.

Step one would be not letting Kris drool on him. It can't even be comfortable for Kris, bending so low. He'll wake up with a crick in his neck. Kyungsoo should raise an emergency flag for a neck pillow.

In the twenty minutes between take-off and falling asleep, Kris and Kyungsoo had exchanged a total of maybe ten words between them. Nothing out of the ordinary. But Kyungsoo, usually a fan of unfettered quiet, had felt uncharacteristically fidgety next to the placid statue of Kris sitting, slumped, beside him. If Chanyeol had been able to detect something from Kyungsoo, what were the chances that Kris could too? Was it how Kyungsoo looked at Kris? Was it how they spoke? What about the two of them, both rather reserved individuals, gave Chanyeol the impression of being cozy?

Kyungsoo's anxiety organ is working overboard today. Feeling ridiculous would be putting it mildly. This nebulous thing inside him that he'd haphazardly labelled as "Kris" and filed under "figure it out later" a nameless while ago has thrived beneath his radar. Apparently it wasn't a hangnail, but a colony of bacteria. Now that Chanyeol has forced a spotlight on it, Kyungsoo can see that it's grown way out of hand, even exerting enough influence to make him tolerate clear violations of his personal bubble just because he wants to know what it feels like to have Kris' hair sweep his cheek. Coming from him, it's practically a confession.

He has no idea what to do. So he doesn't do anything.

It's like watching the collapse of a bridge. Kris' head slowly falls, falls more, until the dramatic touchdown: a soft bump of his left temple against the curve of Kyungsoo's right shoulder. Kris' eyes stay closed, his breaths stay even.

Kyungsoo stays still.

A few months ago, mired in daily torture sessions of choreography practise, Kyungsoo had caught himself looking at Kris with new perspective. Kris, who had a track record of being inoffensive and agreeable, who had never given Kyungsoo much cause to be mad at him before, was sending Kyungsoo's blood pressure sky high because of his inability to correctly lift a snapback off Kyungsoo's head. He either did it off-beat, too fast or too slow, or else he yanked crookedly and sent Kyungsoo's hair into disarray. It was frustrating to repeat the same five steps a million times, relegated as a mannequin in Kris' one-person clumsy routine, trying to keep quiet as Kris removed cap after successive cap from Kyungsoo. He finally got the hang of it after around thirty attempts, and by then Kyungsoo's fantasy of killing Kris and burying his remains had already reached part six, finding an alibi for the police investigation.

Afterwards, on the way home, Kris convinced their manager to drop them off at KFC, where he treated everyone to Kyungsoo's body weight in fried chicken. Unlike all the other bottomless, shameless pits in the group (aside from maybe Minseok hyung), Kyungsoo wasn't swayed by obvious bribery tactics, but with the extra pathetic kick of Kris saying, "Sorry for holding everyone back," as awkwardly as a new Korean speaker, Kyungsoo found himself deflating with a sudden feeling in his chest, like someone had spilled something warm inside his ribcage.

"Thanks for putting up with me," Kris said to Kyungsoo especially, and Kyungsoo nodded, taking the offered box of chicken wings. Kris sat across from Kyungsoo and Chanyeol, helping himself to his own serving, and lapsed into his usual silence while Kyungsoo paid loose attention to Chanyeol whining about who knows what. Mostly Kyungsoo was thinking about Kris.

Ever since MAMA promotions ended and their two sets of six returned to being a lump sum of twelve, everyone had to relearn how to live with each other without stepping on too many toes. The learning curve had been steep, but for the first two weeks of them all being back in the same dorm, every move like was navigating a minefield. Empty bags of snacks trailed after Chanyeol and Baekhyun like ducklings, which drove Minseok into scolding sprees. Yixing took showers throughout the day and refused to let other people use the toilet while he was inside. Lu Han actually kicked Sehun when he found a bunch of Sehun's dirty t-shirts lying on his bed. Jongin and Jongdae had joking arguments about Joonmyeon's bad habits, and it made Joonmyeon sulk for hours. Zitao paraded around naked and proud until the managers yelled at him to put on some underwear. But Kris was quiet, didn't argue, didn't mind sharing the washroom, hung up his clothes properly and kept the floor around his bed clean. He made Kyungsoo remember all over again that predebut image consulting session they'd had, where a director with a clipboard brimming with photos of the twelve of them had told Kris that he had to work harder to look like EXO-M's leader.

It wasn't that Kris wasn't leader-like. He possessed an undeniable gravity that pulled people's eyes and ears, most effective when he wasn't expected to sing or dance or rap, but his day-to-day personality was closer to bashful schoolboy than charismatic diplomat. The cold, stoic Duizhang whom K had monitored from their laptops in Seoul was built up for China and had evidently stayed in China. Kris in his natural state was a carpet to walk on-he spoiled the maknaes, supported all of Joonmyeon's decisions, obediently helped people reach things in the highest kitchen cupboards. He didn't even have enough language problems to cause any prickly misunderstandings. In the midst of the unexpected turbulence that pervaded their time at home, Kris was a calm patch of blue sky. They had multiple members who were the kind-hearted sort, but Kris was easy. Easy to deal with, easily accommodated, easy demeanor, even easily ignored, if it came to that. Kyungsoo had no idea how much he would end up appreciating those qualities in someone, especially in a hyung. He understood why, after a fight, Chanyeol would turn his back on Kyungsoo and go seek Kris out; why, after a few barbed exchanges with Kyungsoo, Baekhyun's flattened frown would twitch at the edges when he heard Kris humming to himself in the living room; why Jongdae made fun of Kris without the slightest hesitation. It was just-nice, to have a lame person like Kris to act as a buffer or a reprieve when needed, someone harmless and dependable to lean on when everything else seemed armed with spikes.

Increased exposure changed Kyungsoo's opinion of everyone, but he surprised himself with how much he approved of Kris. He liked that Kris wasn't fussy, was goofy when he felt he could get away with it. Did dumb things like stubbornly fail at a simple choreo move but then try to make up for it by feeding everyone chicken. It was kind of endearing, and Kyungsoo had never associated that word with anyone other than Jongin.

The next day at SM, Kris pulled off the snapback well enough; Jaewon hyung clapped and said, "Keep it up!" In the wall-length mirror, Kris caught sight of Kyungsoo's unwitting grin, and a small smile burst across his face too, shyly pleased. Kyungsoo had been slammed with abrupt acknowledgement of Kris' cuteness.

They finally completed a perfect run of the song. Kris went for a high-five afterwards and the size of his hand completely eclipsed Kyungsoo's. The grip was warm, a little tacky from sweat, his fingers wrapping around Kyungsoo's for a brief instant, gentle.

He doesn't really think about Kris like that, most days. Kyungsoo's got other things to worry about. Being an idol leeches into every part of a person's life, not just because of obsessive sasaengs. The limited free time they have isn't always theirs to waste. They have to prepare segments for their next appearances, song covers and dance medleys, Tao with his wushu, Chanyeol and Yixing with their instruments, Jongin with his solo routines. For their next guest spot on Sukira, Chanyeol has roped Kris and Kyungsoo into doing a cover of Dynamic Duo's Guilty, and for two days, they spend all their travel time between schedules practising it, accumulating to a late night rehearsal session the day before the show.

Around eleven at night in the SM building, Kris goes for a Starbucks run, cramming his hat low over his eyes, leaving his rings on the desk littered with their lyric sheets. Chanyeol stretches out his long limbs and sighs, scratching at his neck. "I'm wiped," he says, closing his eyes. Kyungsoo pillows his head onto his arms, poking a wary finger at Kris' rings. He doesn't need to mention his agreement.

"But we'll sound good tomorrow," Chanyeol adds dreamily. "Kris' raps are getting much better."

"Mmh," says Kyungsoo. It's true. He no longer feels like cringing in anticipation every time Kris opens his mouth.

"Your voice sounds really good with Kris," Chanyeol mumbles around a yawn. He cracks open an eye. "You still considering the pros and cons of asking him out, or what."

"What," Kyungsoo says.

"I said, are you still considering-"

"No, I heard. I meant, what. I don't want to ask Kris out."

Chanyeol blows a raspberry. "Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that."

"You're delusional."

"And you can't admit you're in denial."

Kyungsoo can admit to plenty. He won't be doing it to Chanyeol. "I don't want to ask Kris out," he says again. "Stop asking for a punch."

"Fiiiine," groans Chanyeol. "I'll just place bets on when you two will get together behind your back, okay? I could have rigged the game with you guys and pulled in a bucket load, but nope. No cuts for you."

"Kris doesn't want to go out with me," Kyungsoo says. Firmly, as if Kris has already proclaimed it from the rooftops. Written an official decree. Read Kyungsoo's mind and admitted it with soft words and a regretful incline of his brow.

Chanyeol fakes a snore. "Your denial is getting boring now. Let's talk about something else, if you're going to be lame about everything."

Kyungsoo isn't sure how to ask further, anyway. At the airport he thought that Chanyeol was just fooling around, trying to rile Kyungsoo up, because Chanyeol pulled shit like that all the time. But for him to bring it up again-either Chanyeol was bitter that his ploy to push Kyungsoo into a humiliating confession didn't work the first time around and wanted to try again, or-or?

Kyungsoo doesn't even take his own feelings seriously. He's never considered what Kris might think about him.

When Kris comes back with three iced coffees, Kyungsoo assesses him with curious side-gazes until Kris tells him to stop staring. Chanyeol snickers and gets coffee down his front. They go back to work, running through the song a few more times until their caffeine boost wears out, and they decide to call it a night.

In the car ride on the way back to the dorm, Kyungsoo falls asleep listening to Kris and Chanyeol talk to each other in low, tired voices. He's woken up later by Kris shaking his shoulder. He's already out of the van, both his and Kyungsoo's bags hanging from one shoulder, their building lit fluorescent white behind him. Their manager is having a smoke by the driver's seat. Chanyeol's gone.

"He had to go to the washroom, so I told him to go ahead inside," says Kris wryly. "He wanted to carry you upstairs bridal-style."

Kyungsoo lets Kris pull him out of his seat. "You're a hero for stopping him."

"He should know better, after Happy Camp. You're heavier than you look," says Kris, and grunts a little when Kyungsoo swings out an elbow.

It could be that Chanyeol is jumping to conclusions. Kyungsoo and Kris have been hanging around each other a lot more lately for events, so maybe they look like they're getting closer when it's more just coincidental seating arrangement. And they do cook together sometimes, but it's because Kyungsoo is a good cook, and Kris' natural obedience and long reach make him a good helper. Mainly Kyungsoo doesn't think Kris treats Kyungsoo any differently than he's treated him in the past. Kyungsoo would have noticed that.

The radio show goes smoothly. Kyungsoo's voice doesn't crack. Ryeowook gives Kyungsoo a tight hug afterwards, congratulating him on doing a good job. Then he congratulates Kris too, smiling up at him with the benevolent goodwill that Ryeowook has in spades, and Kris bows, gums peeking out from his smile. "You guys should do more covers together with Chanyeol-sshi," Ryeowook says. "Your voices fit together nicely."

"See," Chanyeol says, when Kyungsoo relays the compliment. "What did I tell you? We should start our own subunit. Park Chanyeol and the Shorties."

"Kris a shorty? Good luck convincing him."

"Aw, how hard can that be?"

Throughout the Sukira broadcast, Zitao had made Kris switch hats with him, dropped Kris' hat onto Kris' face, egged Kris to pull stupid expressions for the bora camera. Kris had taken it all with long-suffering nonchalance. Kyungsoo doesn't understand where his patience comes from. "He's too good-tempered."

"Lucky for us," Chanyeol grins. He pauses, tilting his head. "Hey, woah. You've never seen Kris get really angry, have you?"

"Have you?"

The amusement edges off Chanyeol's smile, like a slow-mo capture. "I actually have." He licks his lips, then glances around to make sure Kris isn't listening before continuing, "My first year in SM. Kris was coming off of a really tough year. We would go out to eat and people would make fun of me for hanging around him. It was mostly behind our backs-I didn't even think that Kris understood. Anyway, those trainees are long gone now, but once I got called a-a chink-lover, right as we were walking by, and Kris just turned around and-" Chanyeol swallows. He gives a little shudder.

"Did he start a fight?" Kyungsoo asks, amazed.

"No. He just sort of-took this really menacing step towards the guy, with his fist half-raised, and was like, in really good Korean, 'If you have a problem with my nationality, say it straight to my face and we'll resolve it from there,' something like that. It was more about how he looked. He towered over the other guy and, like, bore down on him. I'd never seen him so intense. His face was really scary."

"And then what?"

"Nothing much?" Chanyeol shrugs. "The guy left, looking pissed and a little scared, and Kris and I went to eat. He was in a really bad mood for the rest of the day. He really hates losing his temper."

It's news to Kyungsoo that Kris can even get that angry, though of course he can. Kris isn't a robot. It's just a side of Kris Kyungsoo hasn't had any experience with-but a brief flare of satisfaction rises in him when he realizes that yes, he has, in a way. Back in Incheon airport, there had been the shockingly cold glare Kris had given to the sasaeng, the steely flint in his voice as he ordered her to let Kyungsoo go. Kyungsoo remembers the firm grip that Kris had around his wrist-secure, but not nearly as painful as the sasaeng's grip had been. There had been strength in those hands, tightly controlled.

Chanyeol is considering him with a soft look. Kyungsoo realizes that he's drifted away, and he jolts in embarrassment. "Shut up," he blurts, eyes wide. "Don't say anything."

Chanyeol bursts out laughing. "You're adorable," he says. He cuffs Kyungsoo's neck and leads them out of the studio. Baekhyun's waiting for them outside, and he looks at them teasingly. For a second, Kyungsoo freezes up in fear, thinking that Baekhyun's seen through him too, the same way that Chanyeol has. Kyungsoo would never hear the end of it.

"You never let me hug you like that," Baekhyun whines. "And when you hug me it's because you're actually trying to choke me."

"It's the same reason for both," Kyungsoo says, shoving Chanyeol's arm off him, inexplicably relieved.

Late night dinners are Kyungsoo's specialty. He's still feeling pretty good about performing well on Sukira, so at home, when Jongin shuffles up to him with his puppy-dog eyes, asking for food, Kyungsoo agrees without too much fuss. There's still some leftover veggies (no meat, of course) from yesterday's take-out, so Kyungsoo decides to whip up some fried rice. It's purely a coincidence that Kris really likes fried rice. Kyungsoo's cooking for Jongin.

Joonmyeon comes in to steal a nibble and Kyungsoo slaps his hand away with the wooden spoon.

"You spoil Jonginnie," Joonmyeon sighs. "The rest of us get hungry too."

"Jongin's waiting for his food, so can you," says Kyungsoo. "Go set the table if you want to pass the time."

Joonmyeon does, grabbing three bowls from the cupboard, then pokes his head back in the kitchen five minutes later, looking guilty. "Uh, so now everyone wants some. Do we have enough for a few more servings?"

The frying pan only holds about enough rice for four people, max. Kyungsoo checks the fridge. There are no more leftovers to convert, but they have some fresh vegetables that Kyungsoo can prepare. "Sure," he calls back. "But no meat left."

"Eggs then!" yells Lu Han's voice. Kyungsoo takes out the carton of eggs, along with red peppers, onions, zucchini, some garlic. There's a bag of frozen peas from the freezer that he tosses into a bowl of hot water. Yixing comes by asking if Kyungsoo needs help and Kyungsoo hands him a knife with a grateful nod. For a while, they chop vegetables in companionable silence, speaking only when they need something handed over.

"We'll be okay on Immortal Song when it's our turn, won't we?" Yixing asks, apropos of nothing. Knowing Yixing, it's probably been on his mind all day.

"Um," says Kyungsoo. "Yes, probably." Actually, he's not sure. Baekhyun and Jongdae had practised long and hard for their song, and with Kyungsoo's track record of live performances-well, he thinks he's justified in his nervousness. "The show will definitely make us sound good." Worst case scenario, it'll cost them multiple takes.

Yixing replies with, "When we start Chinese promotions, Jongdae will miss getting to sing with you guys."

"You won't?" Kyungsoo asks, smiling. Yixing, always mentioning the needs of others first.

"Of course I will."

"We'll miss you guys too," says Kyungsoo.

"It's been a lot of fun promoting as the whole group," agrees Yixing softly. "Even if it means we have to cook twice as long to feed everyone."

"Hm. We should probably be glad for the time we have left together," Kyungsoo says, then winces at how dry that sounded. But he does mean it. It's been a new kind of stress, fitting 12 sets of bodies back together into a working mechanism, but it's been rewarding, and now Kyungsoo can barely remember how it'd once been in groups of six. Once M leaves, he expects the dorm will get a lot emptier, but a lot more unruly. Having calm, patient people like Yixing and Minseok and Kris really helped dampen the sometimes frayed energy of the rest of the group. They acted like lightning grounders, and could diffuse group tension in ways that Joonmyeon couldn't. Even Zitao's over the top affection plays a role in improving the group's balance-Sehun and Joonmyeon have certainly been a lot happier with him around. Now that they've all grown used to each other, they'll have to conform again to fill in the missing gaps of personality: Baekhyun and Chanyeol without their co-conspirator Jongdae, Sehun without his cuddle buddy Tao, Jongin without his mutual punching bag Lu Han, Kyungsoo without-

Out of M, Kyungsoo's closest to Jongdae. Of course. But recently, honestly, he's been spending so much time with Kris that when M jets off to China, Kyungsoo will probably have to train himself out of automatically craning his neck up when he turns around, expecting Kris to be right behind him, Kyungsoo's snapback in one gigantic hand.

Yixing's smiling absently at the cutting board, his dimple shallow. Suddenly his head shoots up, as if hit by a thought. "Excuse me," he says. He puts down his knife and hurries out of the kitchen. Moments pass, Kyungsoo frying the rice alone, and then Kris comes in. He looks a bit flustered.

"Uh, Yixing sent me over to help you out," he says.

Kyungsoo stiffens, then forces himself to relax.

So Yixing had picked up on it too? Or-maybe-after the airport incident, didn't Chanyeol say that Kris was the obvious one? And who in EXO knew Kris better than Yixing?

"Finish chopping those peppers, please," says Kyungsoo, in lieu of something else that would be horrendously more embarrassing. "And wash your hands first."

Kris washes his hands. "It smells good," he says, huddling close to the stove and taking in long breaths of the steam. The slouch of his body curves along Kyungsoo's, but doesn't touch. The heat from the stovetop suddenly seems negligible to the warmth of Kris, blanketing Kyungsoo's entire back.

Kyungsoo holds up a spoonful of rice and practically shoves it into Kris' mouth, just to get some distance between them.

Kris coughs, his hand coming up to cup his mouth. "Hot," he slurs, and swallows with effort. "But delicious." He wiggles his eyebrows at Kyungsoo. "You should cook us fried rice all the time."

"How about you be thankful for when I cook at all," Kyungsoo gripes, but he's appeased. He knew Kris would like the food.

"I'm thankful," says Kris quickly. "Super thankful. Thanks for the meal, Kyungsoo-yah."

"It's fine. You're welcome," Kyungsoo mumbles, and turns away from Kris' smile. His cheeks are burning. It's not from the stove.

He liked to think himself as realistic. EXO finished one difficult year together, the next one wasn't promising to be any easier. They were all of them still growing boys, and people changed as their lives did. Re-evaluation was inevitable; Kris was just the foremost example. Kyungsoo could name, for instance, a full list of his own strengths and weaknesses, the distance of separation between the two, and the trajectory of his personal development. He could sing, and sing well, but he had inconsistencies. Sometimes, when he sang, despite his best attempts against it, his confidence would flicker, and then his voice would too. He hated it when his voice cracked. It was like building himself a pyramid, layer by layer, peaking with every good note he sang, and then, out of nowhere-a break. A tap on his Achilles' heel, sending the entire structure of his ego crumbling to rubble.

Once upon a time Kyungsoo might have given fewer fucks about a mistake here or there, but his priorities shifted after he debuted. In EXO-any idol group, really-everyone had their roles within the group: leader, rapper, dancer, singer, maknae. Some members blurred the lines a little, like Lu Han and Yixing, even Sehun who had been known to carry a decent tune if the register was within limit, but Kyungsoo sat firmly under the category of singer. If you take the voice out of the vocalist, and what would be left? A replaceable body-a tiny one, at that.

Sometimes he had nightmares of hands reaching for his throat, squeezing. The strangling made his vocal chords shrivel up, his tongue flop uselessly in his mouth, nothing more than a piece of meat. When he tried to yell for help, only a thin, wavering squeak came out of him, like a mouse caught in a trap. Sometimes the hands were attached to arms, attached to bodies, wearing the faces of the girls he saw at venues, or outside restaurants, or sleeping outside their dorms, waiting for him. Fears aligning, melding into each other like oil spills.

He talked to Joonmyeon about it a few times. Joonmyeon gave safe, bland advice, nothing a person couldn't think of himself, but it was nice that he was so sincere about it. He told Kyungsoo that the best thing to do was to just ignore the sasaengs. Even if they cursed, even if they tried to be physical. Giving them attention was exactly what they wanted, so the only way to punish them was to pretend they didn't exist. And as for Kyungsoo's singing blips: maybe ignore them too, if they got his confidence down. Focus only on things that boosted up his spirits and made him sing better.

"I can't just forget about them," Kyungsoo said. Every new mistake he made would trigger a rehash of all his previous ones, courtesy of sharp-eyed fans and internet connections.

"You don't have to forget," Joonmyeon said. "You can accept them. Just don't let them hurt you. You know what you're capable of, Kyungsoo-yah."

Jongdae, too, was always telling Kyungsoo that self-confidence went a long way to make someone look good. "Don't let mistakes bring you down," he said sometimes, when Kyungsoo was in another grey funk about his voice cracking. "Look at Kris hyung. He fucks up all the time, and he's still out there, making an ass of himself every other day."

"No one expects Kris to be a great singer or rapper though," Kyungsoo had replied. He'd been in a particularly vicious mood after their stint on 1000 Song Challenge. "It doesn't matter so much if he screws up."

"Yeah, because he loves screwing up so much," Jongdae said sarcastically. "We're all in the same boat. The only one expecting too much out of you is you." He flicked Kyungsoo on the forehead. "Get over yourself."

Easier said than done. Kyungsoo considered asking Kris. How had he done it? Kris' rapping used to be auditory embarrassment despite his years of training, and for a long time, his self-confidence had been crippled by his awareness of that. Recently though, under the momentum of their comeback, he had a change of face-he sang at every opportunity he got, boasted jokingly about his dance skill, and spewed out raps though he still had the tendency to slur his pronunciation. There was no way that he didn't realize how much he lacked in talent, but he stood tall with good humour and self-deprecating smiles. Whatever magic was encouraging him to practise his music, it evidently served to protect his ego too. Kyungsoo admired that, but couldn't manage it himself. There was this kernel of tension forever lodged inside him that would act up when he was on stage, keeping his posture rigid and expression fixed-be perfect, be perfect, be perfect. You could smile after you did the job well. Show off your best face like it was your only face, even when it wasn't, not nearly. It got worse every time he messed up live.

When had Kris become so comfortable with himself?

In the end, he didn't broach the topic. He and Kris were just starting to be familiar with each other beyond the veneer of coworkers, and Kyungsoo didn't want to rock the boat. Maybe there was a bit of pride, too, swaying his decision. Maybe also a little bit of shyness. He didn't care to analyze it. But he kept his eyes and ears open, watching with interest whenever Kris stepped up to the mic, sometimes doing really well, more frequently making a fool of himself, but not taking either to heart. Often Kyungsoo found himself laughing along, the straight lines of his body mellowing out for a brief, careless moment, his cheeks scrunching up in that way he hated but couldn't control. Often Kris caught him giggling. One time, close to their comeback, after Kris nearly killed himself trying a handstand, Kyungsoo had laughed so hard he snorted-Kris' eyes had widened at him before he looked away, rubbing his neck. Kyungsoo saw him nod slightly, like he was congratulating himself.

The trend of interactions between them continues. They smile at each other across conference tables, poke fun of each other on shows (Kyungsoo maintaining a straight face, Kris not so much), and Kris picks him for partner on their next recording for Shimshimtapa, which Kyungsoo enjoys. He's almost tempted to accuse Kris of flirting except for the fact that Kris' flirting repertoire consists of greasy winks and hooded glares, both cringe-worthy, stuff Kyungsoo would never in a million years take passively. Kris isn't flirting with Kyungsoo. Kris is-Kris is being happy around Kyungsoo, and it's affecting Kyungsoo way more than he would like.

Baekhyun sends him inscrutable glances sometimes, when he thinks Kyungsoo can't see. It's like he's not sure if he should be jealous or not, or if there's even something worth being jealous of. It's probably that he's not used to Kyungsoo humouring anyone besides Jongin, and keeps expecting Kyungsoo to pull the rug from under Kris' feet, to look up at Kris seriously and say, flat out, "No, you actually suck at singing. Your Korean jokes are lame. Please stop embarrassing yourself."

He's got the wrong idea. Kyungsoo has been saying those things all along. In small whispers, when the camera's averted and their mics are off, smiling because he's still endeared by Kris regardless, and from Kris' returning chuckles, Kyungsoo knows he understands.

But the ribbing goes both ways. Later in August, when they have to fly to Los Angeles for KCON, they're standing in front of the airport, waiting for everyone to get out of the vans, all phones and backpacks and earphones accounted for. Kris nudges Kyungsoo and says, smirking, "Don't worry about the crowd. I'll protect you."

Kyungsoo blinks up at him, unimpressed. "Please. Joonmyeon already is overplaying that shtick about being EXO's guardian. I'll be fine. You walk, and I'll-stick close."

"How close?" asks Kris, starting to grin.

"Close," says Kyungsoo hastily.

Kris lets it drop. They head inside; Kyungsoo tries not to mind the whispers about his and Joonmyeon's outfits. Kris, atypical of his long stride, walks pretty slowly, sticking within arm's reach, and Kyungsoo tries not to over think it. When they get to the open hall area, the energy of the fans rises in fervor, screams rebounding off each other, amplifying like sirens. The mob swells around them, jockeying for attention, and Kyungsoo's arm shoots out unconsciously, grabbing for Kris' elbow. Kris darts a glance back at him, offering a flash of a smile, and Kyungsoo lets out a breath. He drops his hand, but hurries to match his pace with Kris', letting him lead the rest of the way.

Everything is fine until they board the plane. They're in executive class, so they get their own individual seats this time, but Kyungsoo stops short as soon as he sees who takes the chair across the aisle from him. His blood goes cold.

"Kyungsoo-yah," says his sasaeng. "Did you miss me?"

Kyungsoo jumps to his feet and runs to their manager sitting at the other end of the section. "Hyung," he says. "It's that creepy girl. She got a seat next to me."

Sunghwan looks over to where Kyungsoo is pointing. "If she bought that ticket, we can't get her removed from the flight. Do you want me to switch seats with you?"

"But she'll just follow me. She'll cause trouble for the other passengers. I've seen her harassing people before."

"We don't really have a lot of options here," Sunghwan says tiredly. "It's going to be a long flight. If you can find a better solution-by all means. Otherwise you'll just have to ignore her."

Everyone tells him to ignore them. But it's not in Kyungsoo's nature to stamp down his anger. He can only keep his temper for so long. All it does is set him on track to reach his boiling point faster.

The girl is staring at him, face bright with expectation. Waiting for him to sit back down beside her. Kyungsoo's chest feels tight. His fingers clench on the headrest of Sunghwan's seat. He can't sit by her. Even if he can convince her not to touch him, he can't stop her from looking at him. Just the thought of her eyes raking over his body with impunity makes him nauseated. Her gaze would feel like a knife scraping down his skin. It would be even worse if he put on an eye mask or something, because that would be as good as giving her permission to stare to her heart's content.

"Let's switch," says Kyungsoo. "Thanks."

The disappointment that smacks across the sasaeng's face when Sunghwan gathers up his stuff and makes his way over to Kyungsoo's old seat is nearly comical, except Kyungsoo isn't laughing-two seconds later, her indignation has been replaced by fury. Kyungsoo quickly sits down and buckles his seatbelt before the stewardess comes to nag at him.

Someone taps on his shoulder. Kyungsoo turns around; Kris is sitting behind him. He looks worried.

"I'm fine," Kyungsoo says immediately. "Preventative measures."

"Ah. Gotcha," says Kris, leaning back. He holds out a small bag of lollipops that Kyungsoo's pretty sure he snagged from Zitao. Kyungsoo takes one gratefully. It's dumb, but he feels better by sitting further away, when really a few metres of distance isn't really much protection. But Kyungsoo will take what advantages he can. And Kris' presence at his back, tunelessly humming some Chinese song, is reassuring too. The vibrating seed of anxiety inside Kyungsoo calms into a lazy buzz, then, when he crams the lollipop into his mouth, settles entirely.

He's pulled out of a dream by a hand shaking his wrist, and at first, he's not sure where he is. The cabin lights are off, there's the roar of the airplane engines in his ears and someone he doesn't recognize leaning in close, too close. He focuses, then nearly leaps out of his chair, but his seatbelt is pinning him down.

"Shh, Kyungsoo-yah," whispers the sasaeng. "Everyone's asleep, so let's be quiet, okay?"

"What are you doing?" he hisses, as she crouches down beside him, right in the middle of the aisle. "Go back to your seat!"

"But it's boring there without you," she whines, still latched onto him. She swings his hand around like a doll, and he clenches his fist, pulling his arm towards himself. "No, no," she protests, holding fast. "Let's just have fun, like this, okay? If you're mad, you can hit me." She taps his knuckles against her own cheekbone, smiling broadly. Kyungsoo flinches.

"What are you even talking about," Kyungsoo snaps. "You need to go back to your seat and leave me the hell alone."

"You're so mean," she giggles. "But I really like that. You can be more mean! Then the entire world can see how much you care about me."

"No."

She pauses, frowning. "You don't want to? But you hit Baekhyun and Chanyeol and Sehunnie all the time. I see you do it. I know you can do it. Something like this." And she reaches over him, placing both her palms around Kyungsoo's gulping throat. She doesn't blink as she starts pressing down.

Kyungsoo shoves her away. "Get away from me," he whispers hoarsely, but she only rebounds back, face lit up with excitement that he's finally touched her willingly, and Kyungsoo shrinks backwards into his seat, with no idea of how to stop her without waking up the entire cabin-

"Excuse me," says Kris' voice. "What do you think you're doing?" He's standing behind the girl, his face dimly outlined by the thin strips of light lining the aisle. With his height, he overshadows the sasaeng like something superhuman, and his face is-a storm. His brows are pulled sharp, low, and his lips are pressed tight over his teeth, close to a snarl. Kyungsoo's heart gives a lurch-not happily.

The sasaeng stares up at him. "Nothing," she says, wary.

Kris looks at Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo shakes his head, wincing.

"You're the worst kind of fan," Kris says to the girl. He bends down and grabs her sleeve, practically yanking her to her feet. She cries out, alarmed, but he's already marching her down the aisle then up the next row, back to her seat. Kyungsoo can see several other passengers peeking at the spectacle, and he kind of wants to throw himself through the emergency exit window. But no one stops Kris, despite the girl's increasingly loud protests, and by the time he's directed the girl back to her chair, the stewardess shows up.

"She was violating safety regulations by blocking the aisle," Kris says firmly. "As well as disturbing other people on the flight. Please keep an eye on her."

His tone is so no-nonsense that it makes the sasaeng's complaints sound like a joke in comparison. The stewardess apologizes to Kris and bows, turning around to placate the girl. Kris returns to his own seat.

"Sorry," he tells Kyungsoo, having the gall to look sheepish. "I was in the washroom, otherwise I would have stopped her before."

Kyungsoo places his palms over his own neck and holds them there for a few seconds, testing. He's fine. He's absolutely fine.

"Are you okay?" Kris asks worriedly.

"Yeah," Kyungsoo says. It takes until the end of the flight, after no more incidents with the sasaeng, for him to mean it.

"You don't need to think of yourself as my protector," is what Kyungsoo says in a bathroom of an LA restaurant with a name he can't read.

Kris shifts uncomfortably as he tries to lean against a sink that's too low for him. "I don't," he says. "I don't think of myself as anything."

"You protected me from that girl-"

"She was upsetting you, she touched you-"

"I know that, and I appreciate what you did, but she isn't your responsibility, so-"

"Wait-"

"I'm saying that you don't need to put yourself out like that for my sake."

"What? You're the one who told me to be less nice to those type of fans."

Kyungsoo sucks in his lips. "That was-I don't want you to think of me as weak."

This seems to startle Kris a lot. "Weak?" he repeats, confused. "Why would I think that?"

Kyungsoo shrugs. He can see his face reflected in the mirror behind Kris, this tiny person with narrow shoulders and a huge head, and he looks blank. Cold. No wonder Kris is panicking. Too bad Kyungsoo doesn't know how else to present himself. Inside, he's already berating himself for trying to ruin a good thing. His heart is thumping unpleasantly. It's not that he begrudges Kris for standing up for him. Of course Kyungsoo liked that. But Kyungsoo doesn't want Kris to take it upon himself to be Kyungsoo's knight in shining armour every time Kyungsoo might be in a bad situation. There's a huge difference between pulling him away from a sasaeng and forcing a sasaeng off him. They're idols, every move they make is watched and scrutinized. They were lucky that the girl really was violating safety regulations, that most other passengers had been asleep. Had it been an open event where Kris had deliberately intimidated a much smaller fan, the backlash would be immense.

Kris doesn't even treat his own sasaengs like that.

And it's Kyungsoo's fear. Just his. It's not Kris' to handle.

"You're so," Kris starts, unsure of his words for once. "-I don't know. Are you pissed because I just grabbed her like that? Like, maybe I wasn't thinking, but-I only acted because I was angry."

"I don't want you to get angry on my behalf," says Kyungsoo. That's another thing. He's seen that side of Kris now, for real, and he can understand why Chanyeol doesn't use it as a bragging point. The expression was foreign, but it wasn't completely unfit for Kris' face. That was the frightening part. Kyungsoo doesn't remember what it was he'd hoped to gain from an angry Kris, but it didn't happen. Kyungsoo had felt awful afterwards knowing that Kris had been pushed to that state because of him. It's not an expression that Kyungsoo wants to see him wear again.

Kris asks, "Then what do you want? Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"No," Kyungsoo says, shocked.

The tension holding up Kris' shoulders relaxes a bit. "Then..."

Kyungsoo's eyelids lower. He licks his lips. "I-just take it easy. I know she's a problem, but I need to handle her myself. I can't depend on other people to bail me out all the time."

"You realize that you handle yourself amazingly, like, 95 percent of the time, right?" Kris says, incredulous. "You could glare anyone into submission. It's just that leftover five percent that-not like you need the help, but I would feel better if I could give it." He wipes his palms on his pants, as if nervous. "I hope that makes sense. Honestly, I don't even know how you deal with it. My sasaengs are pretty relentless, but they don't try to hurt me like yours did. And yet you're so put together all the time."

Kyungsoo has to laugh. "Me? Put together?"

"Yeah," says Kris.

Kris needs to get his vision checked. Kyungsoo may have a cool outer shell, but it's easily penetrable with the right tools or weapons. Things like the opinions of strangers, or the intentions of overzealous fans, they dig in deep. Kris might be scared of loud noises and miniature projectiles, but he isn't scared of people. He isn't scared of failure. Whereas Kyungsoo's dislike of the sasaengs has birthed a new type of unique paranoia within him: like they're the worst parts of his own weaknesses, personified and given flesh. His insecurities are reflected back in how they keep coming back to him, no matter how hard he tries to push them away.

And it makes him feel so damn small.

"You're fucking dumb," Kyungsoo says. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing half the time."

Kris' left eyebrow quirks. "Uh, I-join the club? I mean, idol groups are fucking messes."

"Next time," Kyungsoo blurts out, "you should let me handle that girl on my own."

"What if I can't help myself?" There's an intensity in those words that makes a rock lodge in Kyungsoo's throat.

"Don't," Kyungsoo says. "I've let you do your thing. Let me do mine."

"Ah," says Kris, blinking. He nods stiffly. "I... okay."

"And I was grateful for you-uh, stepping in," Kyungsoo says, feeling compelled to make sure Kris knows. "I just have to get over my own-issues."

"Sure."

"Don't think that I don't appreciate you," Kyungsoo adds awkwardly.

"Kinda too late," Kris jokes, but he can't remove the trace of unease from his voice.

Kyungsoo pushes back a smile. "One day when I pull you out of sasaeng fire a few consecutive times, you'll get where I'm coming from, maybe."

"Then I look forward to it," says Kris. He squeezes Kyungsoo's shoulder and when his hand slides off, Kyungsoo impulsively grabs it and tucks himself underneath Kris' arm, going in for a one-second hug. Kris' hand in Kyungsoo's is lighter than it looks. Kyungsoo steps back, sheepish, to see Kris trying valiantly to control his face with little success. He scratches his neck timidly, the line of his lips stretching out and back in.

"It was just a hug," Kyungsoo says waspishly. "To soothe your ego a bit. The way you spoke to the stewardess was surprisingly cool-what? What's wrong?"

"You're really cute sometimes," Kris stammers, like he can't help saying it, and his gaze drops down to his feet in embarrassment. If he were a high schooler, this is probably where he'd start shuffling his feet.

Kyungsoo decides to let him off easy. "I know," he says, and ushers them out of the washroom, back to where their dinner has hopefully arrived. Kyungsoo's ordered steak, and it's delicious. He cuts a nice chunk and holds it up on his fork while nudging Kris with an elbow. Kris looks over, raises his eyebrows, and lets Kyungsoo feed him. Kyungsoo lets his eyes linger on Kris' face as Kris chews happily, his eyes curving and a hand cupping the air over his mouth.

"Really good," he mumbles around the meat.

"Yup," says Kyungsoo, more than satisfied.

The very first time Kyungsoo thought of Kris in a romantic way, Kyungsoo had been a little drunk.

They'd just come off their first miraculous win for Wolf, and had been rewarded with a dinner of good beef and good alcohol. It was fifteen minutes into the meal and already there was a stack of empty ingredient plates at the far end of the table. The noise levels were deafening, punctuated by half-hearted wolf howls every time someone chugged down a drink. Chanyeol was cheering for shots, Zitao was stuffing his face with enough meat to feed three men, Lu Han was trying to make Minseok eat hot peppers dry, Sehun was stealing vegetables off Yixing's plate when Yixing was adding more food onto everyone else's-it was a pretty typical dinner situation for them, except for the part where literally everyone was in a good mood. The comeback had gone better than their wildest hopes, because no one except Zitao and Jongin had believed Wolf would actually win anything.

The sheer number of fans that had flocked to their first performance at M!Countdown had been overwhelming. Humbling. Post-performance, as they'd stood outside waving at the immense sea of people, Kyungsoo had been struck that these were the fans that he'd wanted when he decided to become a singer. He'd been exposed to too many of the nastier ones during their hiatus, because of course there were a higher percentage of those fans who were willing to stake out the SM building day in and day out, frantic for any glimpse of them during half a year of no promotional activities. After so many months of dealing with stalkers, hackers, and bored antis, he'd let it sour his own image of the rest of their fans, when the vast majority of them were nothing like that dark side of fandom. Of course they weren't.

So when he'd gone for a washroom break and saw Kris cornered by two girls by an ATM machine, his first reaction had been, "Must be some fans asking for an autograph," and not, as it was seconds later, when one of the girls slithered a hand up Kris' arm, "Shit, sasaengs."

But Kris didn't seem terribly bothered. He shrugged off the girl's hand, and pointed both of them back to the direction they presumably came from. When they whined, wanting to stay near him, he said, "No, that's not possible. Please don't make this hard for me to deal with. Go enjoy your meal," and his voice was commanding enough that the girls did leave, albeit hesitantly. Kris watched them, unmoving, until they were sitting back down at their table, and then he let out a long sigh, shoulders dropping.

"That was smooth," Kyungsoo said, walking up behind him.

Kris startled. "Oh," he said. "No, they were reasonable this time. I got lucky."

Lucky or not, this wasn't the first time Kyungsoo saw Kris be polite to his sasaengs. "You're going to give them a complex, if you always treat them so kindly." The buzz from the soju was making him a little bolder and more scolding than he would usually dare to be around Kris. The sum of his repressed negativity for the sasaengs came boiling up within him-he suddenly wanted nothing more than for Kris to admit that he hated them too. "They're poison. You're digging your own grave."

Kris raised his chin curiously. "You dislike them that much? They're still fans."

"We don't need fans like them."

"I guess," Kris allowed, looking annoyed. Kyungsoo wasn't sure about what. If Kris was going to come out with a lame excuse like how he didn't have many fans when he first moved to Korea, or how, as a Chinese member he'd never reach the popularity levels of a Korean member, and it moved him to care about every fan, sasaeng or not, then Kyungsoo was going to hit him. As EXO became more well-known, their number of sasaengs was going to increase. A subset of their fans already had a reputation for being rude and obnoxious. They'd completely demolished Kyungsoo's concept of privacy. And the special treatment that Kris gave was only going to encourage them. He was, at the very minimum, putting himself in danger. If Kris couldn't see that, then-

"They'll suck you dry," Kyungsoo said. "You want that?"

"Of course not. But it's easier for me to deal with them face first. That's just me though."

"Are you an idiot, or are you trying to be brave?" snapped Kyungsoo.

Kris' eyes flickered. He hadn't liked that. "They're not bothering you. What do you care?"

"Because if you've got that much energy to spare, you should spend it on the group."

And in his head, he'd thought: You should spend it paying more attention to me, too.

What was the most frustrating about the sasaengs was that they ruined how Kyungsoo used to think of intimacy: a private moment under the shadowed cloak of an awning; a shared look between two people, the rest of the world fading away; hands grabbing onto each other and not letting go; the whispers of a lover's name, with so much depth you could feel it. A lot of his connotations of love had darkened, maybe permanently. Their warped view of love tainted so much of Kyungsoo that when he was met by someone like Kris, who dealt with his sasaengs as respectfully as he could, he automatically dismissed them as foolish.

Kyungsoo didn't think he would be so bitter at such a young age.

He didn't exactly admire Kris for being so accommodating, but he was a little jealous that Kris hadn't let the bad fan experiences get to him yet. He wanted Kris' resilience to rub off on him. Those fans didn't deserve his kindness, but still they got it. They probably took it for granted, too. If Kris insisted on giving the world so much of him, then Kyungsoo wanted that care directed to those who could value it properly. He abruptly needed differentiation, a demarcation of us versus them based on Kris' favour, proof that Kyungsoo was on Kris' good side.

"Do you want me to apologize?" Kris asked, confused. "...To you?"

Shit. Busted.

"I don't want anything," Kyungsoo said brashly, ashamed of his own transparency. It was a lie, and it was a bigger miracle than Wolf's win that he managed to get it out without his fear cracking through him. "Excuse me." He wove around Kris to reach the washroom.

Kris grabbed his elbow. "Hey," he said, leaning down a bit, so they were more on eye level. "You can trust me. Maybe I am an idiot, but I would never let it get so out of hand that you guys would be hurt. The only reason I can face them like that is because I know you guys have my back. Isn't that what a team is for?"

His fingers wrapped around the full circumference of Kyungsoo's arm, but Kyungsoo didn't feel restricted at all. It actually felt really-safe. His body knew implicitly, after years together, that Kris would never injure him. Kris was protection. Kris was support. Kyungsoo's mind stopped fretting, lapsing instead into a calm sense of reassurance, and inside his chest, he felt something unfurl, like a new leaf under sunlight.

What it maybe comes down to is that Kyungsoo wants to be better. For himself, mostly, but also for the group, also for Kris. The fans holds high expectations for them, and it's maybe okay that they don't match up right now, but there's a reason their go-to line is a promise to work harder and show off stronger sides of themselves. He knows that's the proper way to think of fans: use their affection as encouragement to grow, not as a hindrance, not as a demotivator. Definitely not as a trigger for fear and anger. Kris seemed to have figured that out long ago; Kyungsoo's still catching up.

Kyungsoo thinks he can do it. It's still early days yet, their career has barely started. He has plenty of time to come into himself. He can use Kris as a model.

And maybe soon he'll be brave enough to properly talk about whatever he feels for Kris that makes him swell with warmth whenever Kris smiled at him, complimented his voice, called his name. If Chanyeol is to believed, the attraction isn't totally one-sided, so-so that's something. Something good to keep in his sights, like a nightlight in a pitch black room. Kris as the method, and the reward.

Honestly, Kyungsoo could do a lot worse.

It's a few weeks later. They're back in Korea. There's a red carpet event and everyone is decked out to the nines. In the living room, everyone is bustling in a flurry of cufflinks and hairspray; Kyungsoo looks around and notices that the tallest person in the room is Chanyeol. He checks his watch and goes to investigate.

Kris is in his room, warring with a bowtie. In the mirror, his expression is ten shades of infuriated, and he scoffs at his reflection as his hands once again fumble around the cloth.

"You should just get a coordi noona to do it for you," Kyungsoo says, not bothering to knock.

Kris sighs, and lets his arms drop. "We've done this enough now that I should be able to tie my own bowtie, shouldn't I?"

"Half of the group can't do it."

"But I'm a hyung."

"You're responsible for looking good, you don't need to worry about the prep work." Kyungsoo pulls over a chair and steps onto it. Kris turns and faces him, and Kyungsoo feels himself smiling softly as he pulls out the knots in the tie and starts afresh. His fingers work nimbly, tucking end into end and weaving through, tugging the newly formed bows, fitting it tight under Kris' collar. He gives it a tweak when he's done. "There. Now you're almost as handsome as me."

He expects Kris to turn back to the mirror to inspect Kyungsoo's handiwork. But Kris doesn't move. Standing on the chair, Kyungsoo is actually a little taller than him, and so he notices when Kris' gaze drops, rather obviously, to Kyungsoo's lips. Kyungsoo feels a rocket shoot off in his head.

"What is it?" he whispers. His hands have come to rest of their own accord on Kris' broad shoulders. He thinks he was intending to dust them off, but they're glued down now, except for an almost indistinguishable tremor that Kyungsoo hopes to god Kris can't feel through his jacket.

"I'm wondering something," Kris returns, equally quietly. He doesn't pull back. His breath is sweeping Kyungsoo's chin. It smells like toothpaste.

"What?"

"You always pick Joonmyeon as the person you'd want to date if you were a girl."

Kyungsoo feels a snort of laughter bubble up out of him. "I-yeah, if I was a girl. But I'm not a girl."

"You're not," Kris agrees, his face lighting up. He blinks, then leans in suddenly, and Kyungsoo's eyes widen hugely. Kris freezes, as if struck.

"Oh," he mutters. He's so close. "Sorry, I-"

"No, it's-it's okay." And when Kris' eyes drift down again, guiltily, as if magnetized to Kyungsoo's lips, Kyungsoo's gut lurches, pushing him through that last inch of space between them. He presses his mouth to Kris', his eyelids squeeze shut.

Kris' lips match the rest of Kris' personality-so much softer than they first appear.

A hand rises up and cups Kyungsoo's cheek, gently, so gently. Kyungsoo wonders if Kris is holding himself back. Like maybe he's afraid to let go, but not enough to stop. Like-whatever reservations he has, he thinks Kyungsoo is worth it.

Kyungsoo gets it.

He breathes in deeply and thinks, Yeah, okay. This is-this is fine. This is better than fine. You can do this.

He threads his arms around Kris' neck, pulling him closer, and Kris makes a surprised sound against him. Not displeased. Kyungsoo can feel the curve of Kris' smile against his mouth, the blush on his cheeks, and, this close, the light scent of Kris' makeup tickles his nose. When they pull apart, breathing hard, Kris' grin is wobbling between shy and amazed.

"Guess you're braver than me," he laughs.

"You've got some other good points," Kyungsoo says. From the side, he can see himself in Kris' mirror. His hands are laughably small against the expanse of Kris' back, but Kyungsoo isn't bothered. His chest feels huge, like a sun's caught inside his ribcage-iridescent, indomitable, steady.