For You I’d Write A Symphony for morago
Title: For You I’d Write A Symphony
Recipient: morago
Pairing: Doojoon/Yoseob
Word count: ~8,000
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Summary: Doojoon slowly comes to realize how he feels about Yoseob after ten years of being friends. And so he makes him a Mix of Love to woo him.
Notes: set in the seautiful mv universe, though it picks up around when the mv ends. also kind of a high school au. to my secret santa: i hope this is what you were looking for, and i hope you like it! ♥
Junhyung breaks his arm during practice. One second he’s messing around, pushing Yoseob back and throwing himself at the floor, and suddenly he’s curled up on the ground, clutching his elbow and forearm. Doojoon rushes over from behind his turntables and pushes Yoseob’s hand back when he reaches tentatively for Junhyung.
“Don’t touch him,” Doojoon snaps, holding a cautionary hand out, and Yoseob’s eyes widen.
“Fuck you, it’s not like I broke it or anything.”
Dongwoon holds his hands up, placating. “Calm down, guys.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Junhyung says through gritted teeth. “Can someone just call a hospital?”
Dongwoon pulls his phone out and dials, speaking softly as he paces back and forth. Junhyung retreats to the couch, sitting down gingerly and clutching his arm, and Doojoon and Yoseob watch him go.
“I didn’t mean it was your fault,” Doojoon says quietly, staring at Yoseob’s shoes. They’re clean white Adidas high tops, and Doojoon had been with him when he got them.
Yoseob’s expression softens immediately, and he shrugs. “It’s fine.”
Doojoon likes that he always knows where he stands with Yoseob. He stands up, and as he walks past to sit next to Junhyung, quickly ruffles Yoseob’s hair. Yoseob leans into his touch with a grin, and then pushes him away.
Junhyung looks at Doojoon when he falls into the sofa beside him, then at Yoseob, and then back at Doojoon.
“What?” Doojoon nudges his knee, and Junhyung shifts out of reach.
“Nothing,” he says with a snort. He leans his head back and closes his eyes. “Wake me up when the ambulance gets here.”
Yoseob’s the real reason that Doojoon starts DJing for the club. Junhyung’s the one who recommends him to Prepix, and Dongwoon wheedles a little when he finds out Doojoon’s considering it, but in the end, it’s Yoseob who convinces him.
“Junhyung told me,” he says when he bounces in Doojoon’s classroom for lunch. He waves cheerfully to Hyunseung, and then turns the empty chair in front of Doojoon’s desk around and plops down.
Doojoon blinks. “What?”
“DJing. At the club,” Yoseob says. He raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to do it, right?”
“Oh.” Doojoon pushes his calculus workbook to the side to make room for the contents of Yoseob’s lunch bag. “I’m not sure.”
Yoseob pauses halfway through pulling the lid off a container of kimchi. “Why?”
Doojoon doesn’t have a real reason. “It’s on school nights?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Yoseob snorts. “It’s not like you do homework.”
“Hey,” Doojoon says, affronted. He steals Yoseob’s chopsticks and rice as retaliation. “I’m a diligent student.”
Yoseob grabs his chopsticks back. “Quit it; I brought you a pair, too.” He pulls it out of the bag and hands them to Doojoon. “You sleep through cram school all the time. And weren’t you saying you wanted to break into the underground scene? Or any scene that isn’t your bedroom?”
“Ha, ha,” Doojoon retorts, but he considers what Yoseob’s saying as he eats a dumpling. “What time do you normally get home?”
Yoseob squints up at the ceiling. “We go there right after cram school, and I normally get home around twelve or one?”
“Don’t your parents get mad?”
“They’ve been staying at the restaurant later. Drunken old men are a good source of income,” Yoseob says, grinning around his water bottle. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Prepix’ll let you do pretty much whatever you want, and you’re good so you might as well put yourself out there. There’s money involved, too. Lots, depending on how many people show up and bet. I’m assuming you’ll get a cut.”
Doojoon purses his lips.
“Plus, it’ll be more fun with you there.”
“Fine,” Doojoon says, finally. “I’ll tell Junhyung yes.”
“Because of me, right?” Yoseob leans forward, grin widening. “You’re so sweet, aw.”
“Shut up.” Doojoon presses a palm against Yoseob’s cheek to push him away, but Yoseob turns his head at the last second and licks a wet stripe across it. Doojoon yells, recoiling and wiping his hand furiously on his uniform pants. Yoseob cackles, and then stuffs a clump of rice in Doojoon’s mouth.
“I know you love me,” he says smugly. “No words necessary.”
Doojoon chews and glares mutinously in response.
He texts Junhyung when Yoseob leaves twenty minutes later. i’m in
i already told them yes, but thanks for the notice
what if i’d said no T__T
kryptonite. see you friday ^__^
Doojoon rolls his eyes and puts his phone away.
The doctor tells Junhyung that it’s a closed fracture, and it’ll take six weeks in a cast for his arm to fully heal.
They start losing after that. It’s not to say that Junhyung was the reason for their fourteen-week winning streak, but their choreography is for three people, and looks best when three people perform it at full energy. Yoseob rubs the back of his head sheepishly the first week they perform after the accident, and Junhyung stands next to Doojoon’s mixing table and glowers at the crowd. Lee Kikwang wins.
“This is bullshit,” Yoseob says later. He stabs his spoon in the ice cream he and Doojoon are sharing, and Doojoon winces when flecks of chocolate land on his vest. Junhyung had left before Doojoon’s shift was over, and Dongwoon had a piano recital the next morning and begged off.
“No one ever bet that much money on us,” he says, sucking on his spoon petulantly. He pulls it out of his mouth, stares at it, and then tosses it into the nearest trashcan. “You eat it. I don’t want anymore.”
Doojoon stares at the cup. “But we got Oreos because you like it.”
“I thought you like it.” Yoseob blinks in confusion. “That’s why I always get it.”
“I hate Oreos.” Doojoon throws the ice cream out. “Let’s get ddukbokki.”
They find a cart on the street, and stand there stabbing at the dduk with the toothpicks the vendor gives them. Around them, the street is bustling and noisy with activity, and Doojoon struggles to keep their spot near the window of the cart. The vendor smiles at them, and ladles more food into their bowl.
Yoseob pokes at a piece of fishcake disconsolately. “He totally upstaged us.” He impales it angrily and stuffs it in his mouth. “I mean, he was good, but he was basically a solo act with some really good backup dancers. We have to work hard to coordinate with each other.”
“He had a lot of stage presence, though,” Doojoon says. There’s a smear of chili sauce on Yoseob’s cheek, and Doojoon wipes it away with his thumb. “And you guys were at an obvious disadvantage.”
Yoseob eats quietly, then throws his toothpick out and hands the vendor some change. “No one’s ever bet that much on us,” he says again, as he walks away.
Doojoon stabs as much as he can onto his toothpick, then hastily pays the vendor, bows, and runs after Yoseob. He slings an arm around his shoulder when he catches up. Yoseob leans into him easily. “Wasn’t that the new kid from your class? The one that Junhyung’s all pissy at?”
“The one with the glasses?” Yoseob bites his lower lip. “He sits next to Ara.” He rolls his eyes. “Junhyung still has a picture of her in his wallet. Dumb, if you ask me.”
Doojoon eats the last of his dduk and chews slowly. “Yeah, I guess.”
The thing is, Doojoon still has a picture of his last girlfriend in his wallet. They broke up a year and a half ago, and had only gone out for a couple of months, but it’s nice to have a face in that space. Doojoon had considered putting a picture of himself with Yoseob in there as a replacement, but that was a little weird, and he couldn’t find a picture of the four of them together. So the girl’s picture stayed, and he simply avoids looking at it.
There’s a lull, in which Yoseob stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts humming the tune of the song that Doojoon’s been mixing for their next competition, and Doojoon considers how warm Yoseob is next to him. Yoseob’s shorter than him, but Doojoon’s arm over his shoulders isn’t a perfect fit. It’s nice anyway.
“Doojoon. Doojoon!”
He blinks. “Huh?”
Yoseob shrugs. “Nothing. You zoned out.”
“Oh.” Doojoon lets his arm fall back to his side, then shoves his hands in his pockets. “Throw paper at him and see if he notices.”
“Kikwang or Junhyung?” Yoseob laughs. “I threw paper at Junhyung a while ago and some of it got stuck in his hair. He didn’t notice and it was there all day. It was pretty great. Maybe I’ll stick a ‘kick me’ sign on his back tomorrow and see if he notices.” His grin widens. “Or if anyone actually kicks him. Good idea, right?”
“Right,” Doojoon says. “Absolutely.”
Yoseob beams. “I love when you agree with me.”
Doojoon readily admits that he has a soft spot for Yoseob. It’s been there since they first met in second grade, when Yoseob was the new kid. He was on the small side then, and the two biggest kids in the class, both boys, had taken it upon themselves to tease him until he cried.
Yoseob never cried, but Doojoon took it upon himself to defend him anyway. It turned out that punching kids in the face was frowned upon, even if it was a first time offense, and Doojoon was told to sit in the hall with his hands raised over his head for an hour.
Yoseob wanders out into the hall what feels like halfway through his punishment, stands in front of Doojoon, and frowns down at him.
“What?” Doojoon shifts, and slowly lowers his arms, wincing at the feeling of pinpricks in his fingers as the blood rushes back down to them.
Yoseob’s frown deepens, and Doojoon has this weird urge to poke his cheek, because he looks cute, even when he’s frowning. “You didn’t need to hit them,” Yoseob says. “I wasn’t going to cry.”
Doojoon wants to say that Yoseob’s quivering lower lip and glassy eyes had said otherwise, but doesn’t. “But they were being mean to you,” he says. “They were asking for it.”
Yoseob’s glower gives way to a small smile. “Oh. Okay.”
“I don’t hit people all the time,” Doojoon says, slowly rubbing his forearms now. “I don’t like doing it or anything.”
“Okay.” Yoseob’s smile grows, and he kneels down begins rubbing one of Doojoon’s hands. He looks up at him quickly, and then down back at his hand. “Thanks.”
It feels like something warm bursts in Doojoon’s chest, and he smiles back. “No problem. But I’m not going to hit anyone for you again.”
“I won’t need you to,” Yoseob says. “Don’t worry.”
Doojoon doesn’t hit anyone for Yoseob again, as promised, but no one bothers Yoseob after that, either.
The soft spot stays. Yoseob’s the only person who can grab Doojoon’s arm during a scary movie, or steal food from his plate, or drape himself over Doojoon when he’s bored and wants attention, or drag Doojoon out shopping when all Doojoon really wants to do is sleep. He’s the only one who can sit around in Doojoon’s room while Doojoon experiments with mixing and beat matching.
Doojoon doesn’t get this close or comfortable with anyone else in his life, but he figures your best friend is the person you make all exceptions for, and for him, that’s Yoseob.
Doojoon isn’t exactly sure how it happens, but when he and Yoseob walk into Yoseob’s classroom the next morning, Junhyung is walking over to where Kikwang is sitting, looking sleepily murderous.
“Uh….” Yoseob looks at Dongwoon, who rolls his eyes, and they’re all ready to not take it seriously when Junhyung grabs Kikwang by the lapels of his blazer and hauls him out of his seat. Ara looks up in surprise, then horror, and stands to do something.
Yoseob rushes over to pull Junhyung back, prying his fingers from Kikwang’s lapels one by one, and Doojoon goes in to push Junhyung back. Junhyung glares at him mutinously, but allows himself to be guided back to his seat, where he sits down heavily and drops his head to the table with a heavy thunk. Doojoon winces.
Dongwoon and Yoseob are apologizing to Kikwang, who accepts their apology with a cheery smile, followed by a wary look in Junhyung’s direction.
“You need to chill out,” Yoseob says, when he walks over. He drops his backpack by his seat, and then reaches out and ruffles Junhyung’s hair. Junhyung grunts in response.
Ara walks over then, and taps Junhyung on the shoulder. He looks up at her, and Doojoon is surprised by how tired he looks. “What?”
“Fuck you,” Ara says, loudly and clearly. Everyone in the classroom goes silent, and Kikwang gets up, hovering awkwardly by his desk.
Junhyung shrugs. “Fuck you, too.”
Ara shoves his shoulder. “No, I mean it. Take my fucking picture out of your wallet, rip it up, and throw it out. We’ve been over for three weeks now, so just get over it. I’m not coming back to you, no matter how many times you win that stupid dance competition-”
Junhyung’s eyes narrow. “I’m not fucking winning it for you-”
“Bullshit.”
“Fuck you.”
Doojoon steps between them. “Okay. Can we just-”
Ara shakes her head and walks away. Junhyung drops his head back on the desk, and doesn’t look up again.
“We should cheer him up,” Yoseob says quietly at lunch. Doojoon goes to their classroom that day, and he, Yoseob, and Dongwoon are crowded around a table, whispering quietly and throwing Junhyung furtive looks every so often. “He looks like shit.”
“He’s not going to go for it,” Doojoon says. Dongwoon nods.
Yoseob looks over at Junhyung and frowns. “I feel bad for him. I don’t think he’s ever taken a break-up so badly.”
“Badly enough to beat up the girl’s next guy,” Doojoon says. Junhyung shifts in his seat and raises his head, looking at them. He catches Yoseob’s eye, smiles briefly, and then puts his head down again. Doojoon looks between them, and feels something roll in the pit of his stomach. He eats some rice to make it go away.
“We’ll get him some soju and a pillow,” Yoseob says brightly. “So he can drink his sorrows away and then sleep. Two of his favorite activities.”
Dongwoon laughs, and Doojoon can’t help but snort.
“Where, though?” Dongwoon says. “Our houses are out.”
“A noraebang. The one down the street from the practice studio. We can sleep there after,” Doojoon says.
Yoseob frowns. “What about your equipment?”
Doojoon shrugs. “I’ll just make sure it’s off.”
“Cool.” Yoseob smiles, wide and familiar. “I’ll get the soju from the restaurant, you guys take care of the pillow.”
The teacher walks into the classroom then, signaling the end of their lunch period. “Wait, are you serious about the pillow,” Dongwoon says. “We’ve got tons in the studio, with the couch, and-”
“I’ll get it,” Doojoon interjects. “Don’t worry about it.”
Yoseob smiles at him again, and Doojoon feels that same burst in his chest that he felt in second grade. The teacher shoos him out of the room, and he goes back to his class feeling remarkably lighthearted.
The thing is, Yoseob didn’t do anything when Doojoon broke up with his girlfriend. Maybe it’s not the same thing, because Doojoon was never as emotionally attached to any of his girlfriends as Junhyung was to even his most insignificant of flings. But when Doojoon broke up with his girlfriend (the one whose picture he still carries), all Yoseob had done was smile and pat him on the back. Doojoon hadn’t known what to make of that then, and still doesn’t know what to make of it now.
It’s stupid that it still bothers him, but it does.
Getting drunk at a noraebang is the best idea Doojoon feels he’s ever had. Because 1) he’s drunk and 2) it’s at a noraebang. Junhyung is one of the best people to be drunk with (at a noraebang), because when he drinks, he’s like a derailed train. As in, he doesn’t stop until some external force (normally Dongwoon or Yoseob) stops him.
Junhyung falls into the couch, laughing maniacally with his shot glass held up. “Pour me one more,” he demands, rolling into Yoseob’s lap. “Just one more. A small one.” He holds his other hand up, index finger and thumb spaced about an inch apart, to demonstrate. “Just thiiiis much, really. I won’t drink anymore.”
Yoseob snorts. “You said that five shots ago.”
Junhyung’s eyes widen. “I did?” He buries his face in Yoseob’s neck, and Yoseob pets his hair accommodatingly. “I’m sorry I lied, Yoseobie. I’ll never do it again.” Yoseob looks at Doojoon and rolls his eyes, but Doojoon’s too busy staring at the way Junhyung is affectionately nuzzling Yoseob’s neck to notice.
Dongwoon’s sitting with the binder of songs, looking bored. “Are we singing anymore?”
“I want to sing,” Yoseob says, while pouring Junhyung another shot. His tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth like it always does when he’s concentrating, which Doojoon has always found cute. “After I take care of this mess.”
“I’m not a mess,” Junhyung indignantly slurs, and Yoseob bursts into laughter, spilling half the soju on his jeans. “I’m not,” Junhyung says, pulling his face out of Yoseob’s neck. “You’re so mean to me, even when I don’t do anything to you.”
Yoseob pulls a face. “I guess I’m taking this shot, then.”
“Fine.” Junhyung stands up unsteadily, yanks at the hem of his shirt, and takes two steps to the right, where Doojoon’s sitting. “I like Doojoon better. He’s quiet. And strong.”
“I’m drunk,” Doojoon declares, throwing his arms out. Junhyung falls into them, mumbling happily, and then attempts to arrange himself in a way that’s less intrusive to Doojoon’s personal space. He settles on resting his head on Doojoon’s shoulder (but not nuzzling), his right leg thrown over Doojoon’s left.
“Me too,” he says cheerfully. “I don’t like Yoseob.”
“You seemed to like him fine when you were violating his neck,” is what Doojoon wants to say, but he can’t get his tongue to work like it should. He settles for growling, and Junhyung makes what sounds suspiciously like a purring noise in response.
Yoseob’s still laughing, but he manages to scoot over to where Dongwoon is sitting to choose a song. He points at the page, and Dongwoon sighs but obediently puts the song up on the screen. Doojoon winces when the opening notes of Gee filter through the speakers, and Junhyung makes a strangled noise, either of great joy or great pain.
“Make it stop,” Doojoon says, covering his ears.
“It’s my favorite song,” Yoseob yells, bouncing cheerfully in place. He stumbles a little, then rights himself, giggling.
Junhyung perks up, and jerks forward in a pathetic attempt to get up. “I like it too,” he yells, struggling. “Wait, I want to sing.”
“You can’t even sit up,” Doojoon says, trying to restrain him. Junhyung goes limp, and then begins squirming.
“I like Yoseob better,” he says pathetically.
“You’re very fickle,” Dongwoon observes. For a second, Doojoon is irrationally jealous of his sobriety.
“I like people who’re nice to me,” Junhyung declares. He’s slurring so badly Doojoon can barely understand him, and he idly wonders when exactly Junhyung is going to pass out.
“Never,” Junhyung says cheerfully.
Doojoon blinks. “Can you read my mind?”
“You’re thinking out loud,” Dongwoon says helpfully.
“Oh.” While Doojoon is busy wondering about the connection between his brain and mouth, Junhyung makes a break for it. He’s successful, flopping over on the floor and crawling over to where Yoseob is bopping around, microphone in hand.
“I like you,” he says, while tugging at the hems of Yoseob’s jeans.
Doojoon dislikes this greatly.
“You’re thinking out loud again,” Dongwoon says, rolling his eyes.
Junhyung has somehow managed to get up and find the other mic, and has enthusiastically joined Yoseob in an interpretive dance that involves a lot of dramatic arm-flailing and hip-bumping. Doojoon decides that closing his eyes is, at that point, the best option.
The five minute walk to the practice studio is the longest five minutes of Doojoon’s life. He clings to Dongwoon’s neck for dear life and takes slow, stumbling steps.
“Don’t throw up, don’t throw up,” Dongwoon chants in his ear, as they walk. Doojoon scrapes his elbow on the brick wall, and he winces.
“Dongwoon-ah,” he says. “I think I-”
“Please don’t say you think you’re going to throw up.”
Doojoon shakes his head, and holds his elbow up. “I cut myself. It hurts.”
“There’s a first aid kit at the studio,” Dongwoon says, hauling Doojoon up with a grunt. “You’ll be fine.”
Doojoon cranes his head over to where Yoseob is carrying a completely incapacitated Junhyung on his back with a patient smile on his face. Junhyung has his face buried in Yoseob’s neck, and he’s murmuring incoherently as Yoseob makes soft assenting noises.
“Why can’t you carry me,” Doojoon says, leaning even more heavily against Dongwoon.
“Because you only had seven shots, and not…thirteen.” Dongwoon props Doojoon against the wall behind him and pats his pockets down. “Where are the keys?”
“I have them,” Yoseob says. “Left pocket, if you can reach them. I don’t want to drop him.”
Dongwoon makes a face and reaches in Yoseob’s pocket, gingerly pulling the key out and opening the door to the practice studio. Yoseob rushes in with a happy yelp, and dumps Junhyung on the couch. Dongwoon and Doojoon stumble in behind him, and Dongwoon closes and locks the door behind them.
“We bought you a pillow,” Yoseob says, handing it to Junhyung. Junhyung makes a pleased noise, and grabs at it, hugging it to his chest.
“I love you, Yoseobie.”
Yoseob beams. “I love you, too. Now to go sleep.” He turns to Dongwoon. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll just dump him here,” Dongwoon says with a shrug.
“Excuse you. I’m not garbage. You can’t just dump me somewhere.” Doojoon sits down on the couch next to Junhyung. “Look. I sat down by myself.”
Dongwoon laughs. “Good job, hyung.” He tosses him a blanket and another pillow. “Hey, hyung, where’re the other blankets?”
Yoseob scratches the back of his head. “Maybe they’re back here. Come help me look.” Dongwoon follows him away from the couch, and Doojoon blearily watches them go before turning to Junhyung.
“Hey,” he says, tugging on Junhyung’s sleeve. “Hey, wake up.”
Junhyung grunts in response, and peers at him over the pillow. “What?”
“I love Yoseob more,” Doojoon says, trying to be as clear as possible. “More then you, okay. A lot more than you.”
Junhyung’s eyes soften, and crinkle up at the corners as he smiles. “Okay, Doojoonie. I love you, too.”
Doojoon rests his back, and pulls his blanket up to his chin. “I guess I like you, too, Junhyungie.”
Junhyung’s only response is a soft snore. Doojoon falls asleep after that.
“Wake up.”
Doojoon opens his eyes, and immediately closes them again. “Light.”
“Shouldn’t have fallen asleep by a window,” Junhyung says matter-of-factly. Doojoon takes a chance opening his eyes again, and Junhyung pauses his meticulous blanket folding to look at him smugly.
“Why are you looking at me like that.” Doojoon throws his arm over his eyes, and slowly sits up. His head is throbbing. His brain feels like it’s been through a blender. He wants to go back to sleep and not wake up for another three days.
“I know something you…well I guess you know it. But you weren’t fully cognizant of it until it came to you last night, probably because of the way I was acting. So I guess you should be thanking me-”
“Why are you talking,” Doojoon moans. “Why are you so happy.”
Junhyung shrugs. “I don’t get hangovers. No consequences to my bad choices.”
“I hate you.”
A slow smile spreads across Junhyung’s face, and Doojoon decides he hates that too. “You said you like me last night,” Junhyung says. “I’m going to cherish that forever.”
“Ugh.”
“You know what else you said?” Doojoon hears the creak of springs as Junhyung sits down next to him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him.
“What.”
“That you love Yoseob. More than I ever could.” Junhyung’s smile has too much smugness in it to even be considered a smile, and Doojoon kind of wants to punch it off his face. He would, if moving didn’t hurt so much.
He sits up slowly, and gingerly cracks his neck. Pain pulses down his back. “I’m not even addressing that,” he says, reaching up to massage his shoulders. Junhyung shoves his hands out of the way and begins working his fingers over Doojoon’s neck and upper back, and Doojoon almost purrs with pleasure.
“Well, for the record,” Junhyung says, “I believe you.”
“About what.”
“That you love him way more than I ever could.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Junhyung sighs. “He likes you, too. I’m pretty sure.”
“Bullshit.” Doojoon moves away, and slowly stands up to fold his blanket. “I’m pretty sure he likes you.”
Junhyung stares up at him, and then explodes into loud, obnoxious laughter. Doojoon drops the blanket to clamp his hands over his ears, and Junhyung falls back in the couch, clutching at his stomach and kicking his legs up. “That’s hilarious,” he gasps, wiping his eyes.
Doojoon feels the petulant pout forming on his lips, but doesn’t do anything to stop it. “Why.”
“Because you’re such an idiot,” Junhyung says. “He’s liked you for ages, you’ve just been totally clueless.”
“I haven’t,” Doojoon says indignantly. “I just didn’t know how much I liked him until you guys started hanging out more for choreographing and I didn’t get to see him as often, and then you broke your arm and he was all concerned about that and your girlfriend problems, and….” He trails off, and stares up at Junhyung, who is looking at him pityingly.
“You were jealous of me.”
“I’m an idiot,” Doojoon concedes.
“Yes.” Junhyung grabs his wrist and pulls him down on the couch. “I’ll help you woo him, if you want.”
“Ew, did you really just call it wooing.” Doojoon yanks his arm out of Junhyung’s grip. “I don’t want to woo him.”
“So you’re just going to go up to him today and tell him you like him out of the blue, then?” Junhyung’s gaze is stubborn and challenging. Doojoon hates when he looks like that.
“No,” he says reluctantly.
“Okay,” Junhyung says. “So I think we’ve established that I need something to distract myself that doesn’t involve destroying my liver or possibly re-breaking my arm-”
Doojoon peers at his cast. “Did you break it again?”
Junhyung shrugs. “I think I hit it on the door when we were leaving. My head hurts a little, too.” He rubs his forehead experimentally.
“Yoseob hit your head on the door,” Doojoon says.
“Oh. Anyway,” Junhyung pauses and looks at Doojoon magnanimously. “I’m going to help you.”
“Do what?” Doojoon says warily.
“Woo Yoseob.”
“Because you have such a great track record with relationships,” Doojoon says reflexively. He kicks himself when Junhyung’s expression flattens out and darkens. “Shit. I mean, I just don’t want this to get all involved and stuff. I’ll do something nice for him, like, one thing, and hopefully he’ll like it enough to admit that he likes me and we’ll…be happy.” He looks up sheepishly. “Sorry.”
Junhyung shrugs. “It’s fine.”
They sit in an awkward silence, during which Doojoon wills away his hangover and stupid tongue, and Junhyung pokes a pencil inside his cast to scratch an itch.
“So what’re you going to do?” Junhyung tosses the pencil to the side, folds his legs under him, and leans forward.
“I don’t know,” Doojoon says miserably. “Do I have to think of it now.”
“We’ll get you some aspirin and coffee,” Junhyung says. He stands and pulls Doojoon up with him. “And then we’ll talk.”
The thing is, it’s true that Yoseob starts spending more time with Junhyung and Dongwoon and less time with Doojoon when he starts dancing and competing at the club. They spend long hours together, watching videos and coming up with choreography and perfecting routines, and though Doojoon’s never really been jealous of Dongwoon, who they all treat like a little brother, it’s different with Junhyung. It’s that small, fond smile that he reserves only for Yoseob that bothers Doojoon the most, because it’s affectionate and open in a way that Junhyung never is with anyone else.
Doojoon doesn’t like that Yoseob is someone else’s exception.
He knows in the back of his mind that he took the DJing gig just so he could spend more time with Yoseob, and maybe do something that is more relevant to both their interests. Music and dancing go hand in hand, after all.
Junhyung doesn’t force Doojoon to face sunlight without shades, and instead brings four huge cups of coffee from Starbucks, a box of crackers, and produces a bottle of aspirin from the first aid kit. He waits until Doojoon finishes the first coffee and some crackers, then hands him a couple of aspirin.
“I didn’t know you were this much of a lightweight,” he says cheerfully, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen and sitting down next to Doojoon. “How much did you drink?”
Doojoon grumbles. “I don’t remember.”
Junhyung shrugs. “Okay. So what do you want to do?”
“Where’d Yoseob and Dongwoon go?”
“Yoseob had go help his parents and Dongwoon’s at a piano recital. We didn’t make him late or anything, don’t worry,” Junhyung adds. “Let’s get to it.”
“I don’t know,” Doojoon says. He wants an ice pack to put on his forehead.
“Well, since you’re out of commission.” Junhyung looks at him pointedly. “I did some thinking while I was out, and I figured you should stick to your strengths.”
Doojoon looks at him, confused. “Soccer?”
“That other thing you do,” Junhyung says, staring at him flatly. “DJing. Make him a specialized mix.”
“Like a mix of love?”
“Don’t call it that.”
Doojoon raises his eyebrows. “A mix of very special feelings? Great affection?”
Junhyung stares at him. “…Tell him it’s for dancing, okay. With songs that send a message of great affection. I’ll help you come up with the tracklist, if you want, but mixing and stuff is obviously all on you.”
Doojoon sighs. “Yeah. Thanks.” He pauses, and watches as Junhyung begins scribbling on the pad. “Hey, you’re all right, right? Last night was supposed to be for you, with the soju and the pillow, so…”
“Yeah.” Junhyung looks up and gives him a small smile. “I’m better now. Thanks.”
Doojoon shrugs. “What’re friends for?”
Junhyung rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling when he goes back to writing.
“Sorry I ditched you,” Yoseob says, the following Monday. He pounces on Doojoon and hangs off his back for a second, then hops off and grabs his arm. “My mom called and was yelling about missing alcohol, so I had to go and pretend to look for it.”
Doojoon snorts. “You didn’t ask to take any? Or leave money at the register?”
“They don’t pay me when I work there anyway,” Yoseob says. “And seriously, would you tell your parents you’re taking alcohol from their shop?”
Doojoon considers this. “Guess not.”
“Yeah.” Yoseob lets go of his arm, and walks jauntily with him. “Were you okay when you woke up?”
“I felt like shit,” Doojoon says. “Junhyung got me coffee and nursed me back to health, though.”
“You wouldn’t be the man you are today without Junhyung,” Yoseob says solemnly. He cracks up, and Doojoon rolls his eyes. “Are you coming to our class for lunch today or should we come to yours?”
“I think I’m going to eat with Hyunseung today, actually,” Doojoon says, trying not to stutter. “I haven’t hung out with him since I started DJing and I feel kind of bad.”
Yoseob looks at him, scrutinizing, but he shrugs. “Cool. I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Doojoon says. “Definitely.”
Doojoon isn’t used to being awkward with Yoseob. It’s only happened twice before: when Doojoon caught Yoseob crying after he broke his leg when they were thirteen, and when Yoseob walked into Doojoon’s room unannounced to catch him singing an enthusiastic rendition of some g.o.d. song to his collection of stuffed animals. The latter was embarrassing for the obvious reasons, but the former was only because Doojoon had never really seen Yoseob cry before that. He’d seen Yoseob get mad, throw temper tantrums, and be sad in that quiet way of his, but he’d never seen Yoseob shed a tear for anything. He remembers being overwhelmed by that need to protect him, like he had been in second grade with the bullies, and that’s what makes it awkward.
Yoseob’s shown plenty of times that he's the last person to need protecting, but Doojoon just can’t kick the urge. And that’s what really makes that situation awkward.
“I’m not putting Juliette on this mix,” Doojoon says. “It’s a dumb pop song, and Juliette isn’t even spelled right, and I know that Yoseob’s made fun of that before, so-”
“It has a good beat,” Junhyung argues. “And if this mix is for dancing, which it is-”
“Supposedly,” Doojoon mutters.
“Then you need have songs with good beats,” Junhyung continues, ignoring him.
“Okay, but I’m not putting Hero on here.”
Junhyung angles his head to look at the list. “That’s your handwriting.”
Doojoon flushes. “Take it off.”
Junhyung crosses it off with a flourish.
“Let’s go to the mall,” Yoseob says, falling into the empty seat next to Doojoon. Doojoon jumps; the teacher had dismissed them at four, but he’d stayed behind to organize his bag and avoid running into Yoseob in the hall.
“I thought you left,” he mutters, shoving pencils into a side pocket and zipping it shut.
Yoseob frowns. “I didn’t see you in the hall so I came looking. Come on, you’ve been working on mixing with Junhyung all week and we haven’t hung out at all. Let’s go somewhere and do something. I’ll buy you ice cream. We can get cookie dough instead of Oreos. It’ll be great.”
Doojoon stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder, and Yoseob stands too, looking at him expectantly. “I was thinking of just going back and doing some more mixing. Junhyung says he wants to choreograph something new, so I’m working on new stuff for you guys.”
“Oh.” Yoseob looks down at his shoes, and kicks a chair leg. “So nothing else is going on?”
“No. Why?”
Yoseob shrugs. “It just feels like you’ve been avoiding me, but I can’t figure out if I’ve done anything to piss you off, or if there’s another reason.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and scuffs his shoes against the floor. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Junhyung.”
“I’m not mad at you,” Doojoon says. He feels a bit desperate to make Yoseob understand that, and he hopes it doesn’t show in his voice. “I swear. I’m just trying to make this mix as good as Junhyung says the choreo is going to be, and you know that takes a lot of time.”
“Sure.” Yoseob nods, but it doesn’t sound like he really understands. He turns and begins walking away, and Doojoon rushes to catch up to him.
“Let’s go to the mall.”
Yoseob beams. “Ha! Dongwoon told me to kick the chair like that; I knew it’d make you feel bad. No, no, no, wait, where are you going.” He’s laughing as he tugs Doojoon back into the classroom, and wraps his arms around Doojoon’s waist, from the side. “I’m still buying ice cream.”
Doojoon wriggles out of Yoseob’s grasp and pulls him into a headlock. “With tons of mix-ins.”
“At least five,” Yoseob chokes out amenably. Doojoon slowly lets him go, and Yoseob bounces out of reach. “Let’s go.”
Doojoon follows him out, and throws an arm across his shoulders as they walk down the hall.
“I really was bummed that I hadn’t seen you all week,” Yoseob says, when they walk through the doors. “Since you normally let me sit there when you mix.”
Doojoon pulls him in closer. “I wanted it to be a surprise. If I finish it by this weekend I’ll give it to you.”
“Awesome.”
“That was stupid,” Junhyung says. He spins a CD around his finger, and Doojoon grabs it and slams it down on one of the turntables.
“I can finish it by tomorrow,” Doojoon says. He fiddles with the gain, then turns one of the equalizer buttons. “We have all the songs, and I only need to mix a couple of them, since all the beats are already there. And I basically told him I’d finish it by the weekend, so I kind of have to. Here, should I add a reverb here, or do you think it sounds too dense?”
Junhyung stares at him. “If you like him so much, why didn’t you ever tell him before?”
“I don’t like him that much,” Doojoon says. He doesn’t convince either of them.
“You never rush your mixing. I remember Yoseob complaining about how you kept bugging him about the beat mixing you were doing a while back, and how the two options you were telling him to choose from sounded the exact same.”
“They didn’t,” Doojoon says defensively. “The syncing on one was completely different-”
Junhyung gives him a look that clearly tells him he’s missing the point.
“I didn’t know I liked him until now,” Doojoon says, finally. “It’s just one of those things that comes to you, I guess.”
Junhyung smiles. “Glad you figured it out.”
Doojoon isn’t used to being awkward with people in general. He’s been told his entire life that he’s a people person, and has the hoards of friends and acquaintances to prove it. He’s awkward when relationships end, though. It’s an unfamiliar and unsettling feeling, and he first experienced it when he had a fight with his friend in first grade. It was over a pencil sharpener, or over who got to tug on Soomi’s long, perfect braid, or something equally stupid, but the boy-Doojoon doesn’t remember his name-kicked Doojoon in the shins and ran off crying, and Doojoon didn’t know how to respond when the teacher forced them to make up. They didn’t make up, of course, because tugging a girl’s braid when you’ve told your friend that he can do it is unforgiveable, and Doojoon suffered through the rest of the year trying to avoid the boy’s gaze and shuffling around him during free time.
He becomes used to it later on, when he breaks up with his first girlfriend at thirteen, his second at fifteen, his third at sixteen, and his fourth (the one whose picture is still in his wallet) at seventeen, four months ago, but it’s still an unsettling feeling. He doesn’t like seeing any of them in the halls, but especially the last one, because he never knows what to say, and the weight of his wallet in his back pocket becomes even more pronounced when he sees her.
Doojoon’s fine feeling that way with them, though. The relationships are over, and though he’s good at being friends with girls, he’s willing to cut his losses.
He’s not fine with feeling that way around Yoseob, even if it’s fleeting or temporary. There’s too much between them. Much more than four failed year-long relationships with girls who have long moved on.
Junhyung informs them that the club is having another competition night on Saturday. Doojoon gets the text when he’s putting his finishing touches on the mix, and he slaps the CD into a case and stuffs it into his bag.
“I’ll give it to him after tonight’s over,” he says to Junhyung when they’re waiting in line outside the warehouse where the club is.
Junhyung shrugs. “Just make sure he’s not in a bad mood.”
“Why would he be?” Doojoon hands his bag to the bouncer to search, and walks through the metal detector.
“If we lose again.” Junhyung passes through after him, and then walks ahead. “I have to go talk to Haw; I’ll see you guys in a couple of minutes.”
Doojoon walks to the back of warehouse to where the turntables are, and drops his bag under the table. Someone comes up to him with a basket of CDs-the music different groups want him to play, and he takes them, stacks them according to the list that comes with the CDs, and gets ready with the first one.
It’s easy to get caught up in the theatricality of it all. Doojoon spins CDs and messes with balance and the equalizer, and rocks back and forth between the two turntables, one hand always on his headphones, the other always on the deck. He doesn’t really have to do much, most of the time, but it’s enough of a distraction that he doesn’t have to think about what he should say to Yoseob.
“You look bored,” Yoseob says, popping up behind Doojoon during a break. He slurps noisily from his bottled water, and gives the CD on the turntable an experimental spin.
Doojoon stops it with his index finger. “All the groups gave me CDs tonight.”
Yoseob gives him a quick onceover, then smiles. “You can mess with ours if you want. I can break it down if you give me a good beat.”
Doojoon bursts into laughter. “Break it down?”
“I could,” Yoseob protests. He flicks some water at Doojoon, then dances out of reach when Doojoon grabs for him threateningly. “Or don’t,” he says. “Just stand here, looking catatonic.”
“I’m doing deep thinking,” Doojoon says.
“I guess that explains why you look so tired,” Yoseob chirps. He scampers out of the way again, then grabs Dongwoon and uses him as a human shield.
“I was just coming to tell you that we’re up,” Dongwoon says. “Please don’t pull me into the crossfire.”
“Okay,” Yoseob says cheerfully. He grabs Dongwoon by the wrist and tugs him away.
They don’t win that night, but Junhyung is still in a good mood when they leave the club. “He got some girl’s number,” Dongwoon says loudly, and Junhyung clamps a hand over his mouth. “Gina,” Dongwoon says, struggling against him. “He kept staring at her the entire night.”
“The solo act? With the hair?” Yoseob makes some vague gesture around his head, and Dongwoon nods. “Good,” Yoseob says. “She looked nice.”
“She looked older” Dongwoon singsongs. Yoseob wiggles his eyebrows, and Doojoon laughs when Junhyung jams his hands into his pockets and scowls.
They make their way back home slowly, dropping Dongwoon off at home and then abandoning Junhyung in a convenience store when he stops to get a soda. It’s mostly Yoseob who does the abandoning, and Doojoon follows to make sure that he doesn’t get hit by a car in his euphoria.
It’s only when they’re alone that Doojoon becomes conscious of the weight of the CD in his bag. Which is stupid because CDs don’t weigh anything and it’s really all in his head, but it’s enough for Yoseob to abruptly stop walking and stare at him, head cocked. Doojoon almost walks past him.
“What?”
“You’re being weird.” Yoseob frowns. “Again. Seriously, if something’s wrong, or if I’ve done something wrong, just tell me.”
Doojoon flounders mentally. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Yoseob shrugs. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“No. Look.” Doojoon reaches into his bag and pulls out the CD case, and thrusts it at Yoseob. “I finished the mix.”
Yoseob lights up. “Cool! Wait, can I listen to it now? Do you have the tracklist? We’re only a couple blocks away from the studio, right? Let’s go.”
Doojoon starts pacing when Yoseob pops the CD into the player, then sits down and buries his face in his hands when the modified first beats of Somebody to Love pulse through the speakers. He sneaks a peek at Yoseob, who looks politely puzzled but still delighted, and watches as he begins to move to the music. Arms first, then minute movements with his feet, then his legs. He stops when he realizes Doojoon is looking, and beams.
“I like what you’ve done with it,” he says, bounding over. “I don’t get why it was a huge secret, but whatever. Where’s the tracklist?”
“On the table,” Doojoon says, trying to keep his voice steady.
Yoseob retrieves the list, still smiling, and reads it as he walks back over to Doojoon. His smile slowly gives way to a puzzled frown, and when he’s made it over to Doojoon, he’s just frowning. “What was this for again?”
Doojoon clears his throat. “Choreography?” Yoseob stares at him unconvinced, and he tries again. “Dancing? For you? Which is why I didn’t show you until now?”
“Then why’s Juliette on here?”
“It has…a good beat?” Doojoon offers tentatively.
“Love in this Club?”
Doojoon sinks lower in his seat. “Also a good beat.”
Yoseob peers at him over the sheet. “Sexy Love?”
“It’s for you,” Doojoon squeaks.
Yoseob freezes. “Like, for me for dancing, or for me for me?”
“For you for you,” Doojoon says, even though he’s not really sure what that means. “I mean, it’s supposed to mean I like you. Like a mix of love. Or great affection. Even though Junhyung told me not to call it that.”
“You made me a mix of love?” Yoseob’s expression is unreadable.
“I’m wooing you?” Doojoon stands up slowly. “Junhyung said it was a good idea. I don’t know. Clearly it was a bad idea, so-”
“Does this mean you want to bag me like some groceries?” Yoseob’s tone is teasing. “Does everything I do keep you strung?”
Doojoon’s mind stutters to a halt. “Yes? I mean, yes.”
Yoseob falls into the couch, laughing uncontrollably.
“It means I like you,” Doojoon says indignantly. “I don’t know about bagging you like some groceries, because that’s kind of weird, but you’re my best friend and I like you. A lot.”
“You just need somebody to love,” Yoseob says, body convulsing with giggles. He rolls off the couch, and at the last second grabs Doojoon and pulls him down too. “You like the way I move on the floor.”
“I do,” Doojoon says pathetically. “You look…very nice.” Yoseob falls into his lap, laughing louder than ever, and Doojoon pushes him away.
“For the record,” Yoseob says, straightening up, “I like you, too.” And then he leans in.
Doojoon meets him halfway. Yoseob’s lips are warm and soft and smooth against his, and Yoseob makes a soft noise of pleasure before moving closer, sitting up slowly and pushing his fingers through Doojoon’s hair. He moves slowly, straddling Doojoon and pushing him back against the couch, and even though it’s been a week since Doojoon realized how he feels, this feels like enough gratification for the last ten years of knowing him.
Confessing to anyone has never been so roundabout for Doojoon, but Yoseob’s always the exception.
Doojoon throws out the picture of his ex-girlfriend and replaces it with a picture of Yoseob.
Recipient: morago
Pairing: Doojoon/Yoseob
Word count: ~8,000
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Summary: Doojoon slowly comes to realize how he feels about Yoseob after ten years of being friends. And so he makes him a Mix of Love to woo him.
Notes: set in the seautiful mv universe, though it picks up around when the mv ends. also kind of a high school au. to my secret santa: i hope this is what you were looking for, and i hope you like it! ♥
Junhyung breaks his arm during practice. One second he’s messing around, pushing Yoseob back and throwing himself at the floor, and suddenly he’s curled up on the ground, clutching his elbow and forearm. Doojoon rushes over from behind his turntables and pushes Yoseob’s hand back when he reaches tentatively for Junhyung.
“Don’t touch him,” Doojoon snaps, holding a cautionary hand out, and Yoseob’s eyes widen.
“Fuck you, it’s not like I broke it or anything.”
Dongwoon holds his hands up, placating. “Calm down, guys.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Junhyung says through gritted teeth. “Can someone just call a hospital?”
Dongwoon pulls his phone out and dials, speaking softly as he paces back and forth. Junhyung retreats to the couch, sitting down gingerly and clutching his arm, and Doojoon and Yoseob watch him go.
“I didn’t mean it was your fault,” Doojoon says quietly, staring at Yoseob’s shoes. They’re clean white Adidas high tops, and Doojoon had been with him when he got them.
Yoseob’s expression softens immediately, and he shrugs. “It’s fine.”
Doojoon likes that he always knows where he stands with Yoseob. He stands up, and as he walks past to sit next to Junhyung, quickly ruffles Yoseob’s hair. Yoseob leans into his touch with a grin, and then pushes him away.
Junhyung looks at Doojoon when he falls into the sofa beside him, then at Yoseob, and then back at Doojoon.
“What?” Doojoon nudges his knee, and Junhyung shifts out of reach.
“Nothing,” he says with a snort. He leans his head back and closes his eyes. “Wake me up when the ambulance gets here.”
Yoseob’s the real reason that Doojoon starts DJing for the club. Junhyung’s the one who recommends him to Prepix, and Dongwoon wheedles a little when he finds out Doojoon’s considering it, but in the end, it’s Yoseob who convinces him.
“Junhyung told me,” he says when he bounces in Doojoon’s classroom for lunch. He waves cheerfully to Hyunseung, and then turns the empty chair in front of Doojoon’s desk around and plops down.
Doojoon blinks. “What?”
“DJing. At the club,” Yoseob says. He raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to do it, right?”
“Oh.” Doojoon pushes his calculus workbook to the side to make room for the contents of Yoseob’s lunch bag. “I’m not sure.”
Yoseob pauses halfway through pulling the lid off a container of kimchi. “Why?”
Doojoon doesn’t have a real reason. “It’s on school nights?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Yoseob snorts. “It’s not like you do homework.”
“Hey,” Doojoon says, affronted. He steals Yoseob’s chopsticks and rice as retaliation. “I’m a diligent student.”
Yoseob grabs his chopsticks back. “Quit it; I brought you a pair, too.” He pulls it out of the bag and hands them to Doojoon. “You sleep through cram school all the time. And weren’t you saying you wanted to break into the underground scene? Or any scene that isn’t your bedroom?”
“Ha, ha,” Doojoon retorts, but he considers what Yoseob’s saying as he eats a dumpling. “What time do you normally get home?”
Yoseob squints up at the ceiling. “We go there right after cram school, and I normally get home around twelve or one?”
“Don’t your parents get mad?”
“They’ve been staying at the restaurant later. Drunken old men are a good source of income,” Yoseob says, grinning around his water bottle. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Prepix’ll let you do pretty much whatever you want, and you’re good so you might as well put yourself out there. There’s money involved, too. Lots, depending on how many people show up and bet. I’m assuming you’ll get a cut.”
Doojoon purses his lips.
“Plus, it’ll be more fun with you there.”
“Fine,” Doojoon says, finally. “I’ll tell Junhyung yes.”
“Because of me, right?” Yoseob leans forward, grin widening. “You’re so sweet, aw.”
“Shut up.” Doojoon presses a palm against Yoseob’s cheek to push him away, but Yoseob turns his head at the last second and licks a wet stripe across it. Doojoon yells, recoiling and wiping his hand furiously on his uniform pants. Yoseob cackles, and then stuffs a clump of rice in Doojoon’s mouth.
“I know you love me,” he says smugly. “No words necessary.”
Doojoon chews and glares mutinously in response.
He texts Junhyung when Yoseob leaves twenty minutes later. i’m in
i already told them yes, but thanks for the notice
what if i’d said no T__T
kryptonite. see you friday ^__^
Doojoon rolls his eyes and puts his phone away.
The doctor tells Junhyung that it’s a closed fracture, and it’ll take six weeks in a cast for his arm to fully heal.
They start losing after that. It’s not to say that Junhyung was the reason for their fourteen-week winning streak, but their choreography is for three people, and looks best when three people perform it at full energy. Yoseob rubs the back of his head sheepishly the first week they perform after the accident, and Junhyung stands next to Doojoon’s mixing table and glowers at the crowd. Lee Kikwang wins.
“This is bullshit,” Yoseob says later. He stabs his spoon in the ice cream he and Doojoon are sharing, and Doojoon winces when flecks of chocolate land on his vest. Junhyung had left before Doojoon’s shift was over, and Dongwoon had a piano recital the next morning and begged off.
“No one ever bet that much money on us,” he says, sucking on his spoon petulantly. He pulls it out of his mouth, stares at it, and then tosses it into the nearest trashcan. “You eat it. I don’t want anymore.”
Doojoon stares at the cup. “But we got Oreos because you like it.”
“I thought you like it.” Yoseob blinks in confusion. “That’s why I always get it.”
“I hate Oreos.” Doojoon throws the ice cream out. “Let’s get ddukbokki.”
They find a cart on the street, and stand there stabbing at the dduk with the toothpicks the vendor gives them. Around them, the street is bustling and noisy with activity, and Doojoon struggles to keep their spot near the window of the cart. The vendor smiles at them, and ladles more food into their bowl.
Yoseob pokes at a piece of fishcake disconsolately. “He totally upstaged us.” He impales it angrily and stuffs it in his mouth. “I mean, he was good, but he was basically a solo act with some really good backup dancers. We have to work hard to coordinate with each other.”
“He had a lot of stage presence, though,” Doojoon says. There’s a smear of chili sauce on Yoseob’s cheek, and Doojoon wipes it away with his thumb. “And you guys were at an obvious disadvantage.”
Yoseob eats quietly, then throws his toothpick out and hands the vendor some change. “No one’s ever bet that much on us,” he says again, as he walks away.
Doojoon stabs as much as he can onto his toothpick, then hastily pays the vendor, bows, and runs after Yoseob. He slings an arm around his shoulder when he catches up. Yoseob leans into him easily. “Wasn’t that the new kid from your class? The one that Junhyung’s all pissy at?”
“The one with the glasses?” Yoseob bites his lower lip. “He sits next to Ara.” He rolls his eyes. “Junhyung still has a picture of her in his wallet. Dumb, if you ask me.”
Doojoon eats the last of his dduk and chews slowly. “Yeah, I guess.”
The thing is, Doojoon still has a picture of his last girlfriend in his wallet. They broke up a year and a half ago, and had only gone out for a couple of months, but it’s nice to have a face in that space. Doojoon had considered putting a picture of himself with Yoseob in there as a replacement, but that was a little weird, and he couldn’t find a picture of the four of them together. So the girl’s picture stayed, and he simply avoids looking at it.
There’s a lull, in which Yoseob stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts humming the tune of the song that Doojoon’s been mixing for their next competition, and Doojoon considers how warm Yoseob is next to him. Yoseob’s shorter than him, but Doojoon’s arm over his shoulders isn’t a perfect fit. It’s nice anyway.
“Doojoon. Doojoon!”
He blinks. “Huh?”
Yoseob shrugs. “Nothing. You zoned out.”
“Oh.” Doojoon lets his arm fall back to his side, then shoves his hands in his pockets. “Throw paper at him and see if he notices.”
“Kikwang or Junhyung?” Yoseob laughs. “I threw paper at Junhyung a while ago and some of it got stuck in his hair. He didn’t notice and it was there all day. It was pretty great. Maybe I’ll stick a ‘kick me’ sign on his back tomorrow and see if he notices.” His grin widens. “Or if anyone actually kicks him. Good idea, right?”
“Right,” Doojoon says. “Absolutely.”
Yoseob beams. “I love when you agree with me.”
Doojoon readily admits that he has a soft spot for Yoseob. It’s been there since they first met in second grade, when Yoseob was the new kid. He was on the small side then, and the two biggest kids in the class, both boys, had taken it upon themselves to tease him until he cried.
Yoseob never cried, but Doojoon took it upon himself to defend him anyway. It turned out that punching kids in the face was frowned upon, even if it was a first time offense, and Doojoon was told to sit in the hall with his hands raised over his head for an hour.
Yoseob wanders out into the hall what feels like halfway through his punishment, stands in front of Doojoon, and frowns down at him.
“What?” Doojoon shifts, and slowly lowers his arms, wincing at the feeling of pinpricks in his fingers as the blood rushes back down to them.
Yoseob’s frown deepens, and Doojoon has this weird urge to poke his cheek, because he looks cute, even when he’s frowning. “You didn’t need to hit them,” Yoseob says. “I wasn’t going to cry.”
Doojoon wants to say that Yoseob’s quivering lower lip and glassy eyes had said otherwise, but doesn’t. “But they were being mean to you,” he says. “They were asking for it.”
Yoseob’s glower gives way to a small smile. “Oh. Okay.”
“I don’t hit people all the time,” Doojoon says, slowly rubbing his forearms now. “I don’t like doing it or anything.”
“Okay.” Yoseob’s smile grows, and he kneels down begins rubbing one of Doojoon’s hands. He looks up at him quickly, and then down back at his hand. “Thanks.”
It feels like something warm bursts in Doojoon’s chest, and he smiles back. “No problem. But I’m not going to hit anyone for you again.”
“I won’t need you to,” Yoseob says. “Don’t worry.”
Doojoon doesn’t hit anyone for Yoseob again, as promised, but no one bothers Yoseob after that, either.
The soft spot stays. Yoseob’s the only person who can grab Doojoon’s arm during a scary movie, or steal food from his plate, or drape himself over Doojoon when he’s bored and wants attention, or drag Doojoon out shopping when all Doojoon really wants to do is sleep. He’s the only one who can sit around in Doojoon’s room while Doojoon experiments with mixing and beat matching.
Doojoon doesn’t get this close or comfortable with anyone else in his life, but he figures your best friend is the person you make all exceptions for, and for him, that’s Yoseob.
Doojoon isn’t exactly sure how it happens, but when he and Yoseob walk into Yoseob’s classroom the next morning, Junhyung is walking over to where Kikwang is sitting, looking sleepily murderous.
“Uh….” Yoseob looks at Dongwoon, who rolls his eyes, and they’re all ready to not take it seriously when Junhyung grabs Kikwang by the lapels of his blazer and hauls him out of his seat. Ara looks up in surprise, then horror, and stands to do something.
Yoseob rushes over to pull Junhyung back, prying his fingers from Kikwang’s lapels one by one, and Doojoon goes in to push Junhyung back. Junhyung glares at him mutinously, but allows himself to be guided back to his seat, where he sits down heavily and drops his head to the table with a heavy thunk. Doojoon winces.
Dongwoon and Yoseob are apologizing to Kikwang, who accepts their apology with a cheery smile, followed by a wary look in Junhyung’s direction.
“You need to chill out,” Yoseob says, when he walks over. He drops his backpack by his seat, and then reaches out and ruffles Junhyung’s hair. Junhyung grunts in response.
Ara walks over then, and taps Junhyung on the shoulder. He looks up at her, and Doojoon is surprised by how tired he looks. “What?”
“Fuck you,” Ara says, loudly and clearly. Everyone in the classroom goes silent, and Kikwang gets up, hovering awkwardly by his desk.
Junhyung shrugs. “Fuck you, too.”
Ara shoves his shoulder. “No, I mean it. Take my fucking picture out of your wallet, rip it up, and throw it out. We’ve been over for three weeks now, so just get over it. I’m not coming back to you, no matter how many times you win that stupid dance competition-”
Junhyung’s eyes narrow. “I’m not fucking winning it for you-”
“Bullshit.”
“Fuck you.”
Doojoon steps between them. “Okay. Can we just-”
Ara shakes her head and walks away. Junhyung drops his head back on the desk, and doesn’t look up again.
“We should cheer him up,” Yoseob says quietly at lunch. Doojoon goes to their classroom that day, and he, Yoseob, and Dongwoon are crowded around a table, whispering quietly and throwing Junhyung furtive looks every so often. “He looks like shit.”
“He’s not going to go for it,” Doojoon says. Dongwoon nods.
Yoseob looks over at Junhyung and frowns. “I feel bad for him. I don’t think he’s ever taken a break-up so badly.”
“Badly enough to beat up the girl’s next guy,” Doojoon says. Junhyung shifts in his seat and raises his head, looking at them. He catches Yoseob’s eye, smiles briefly, and then puts his head down again. Doojoon looks between them, and feels something roll in the pit of his stomach. He eats some rice to make it go away.
“We’ll get him some soju and a pillow,” Yoseob says brightly. “So he can drink his sorrows away and then sleep. Two of his favorite activities.”
Dongwoon laughs, and Doojoon can’t help but snort.
“Where, though?” Dongwoon says. “Our houses are out.”
“A noraebang. The one down the street from the practice studio. We can sleep there after,” Doojoon says.
Yoseob frowns. “What about your equipment?”
Doojoon shrugs. “I’ll just make sure it’s off.”
“Cool.” Yoseob smiles, wide and familiar. “I’ll get the soju from the restaurant, you guys take care of the pillow.”
The teacher walks into the classroom then, signaling the end of their lunch period. “Wait, are you serious about the pillow,” Dongwoon says. “We’ve got tons in the studio, with the couch, and-”
“I’ll get it,” Doojoon interjects. “Don’t worry about it.”
Yoseob smiles at him again, and Doojoon feels that same burst in his chest that he felt in second grade. The teacher shoos him out of the room, and he goes back to his class feeling remarkably lighthearted.
The thing is, Yoseob didn’t do anything when Doojoon broke up with his girlfriend. Maybe it’s not the same thing, because Doojoon was never as emotionally attached to any of his girlfriends as Junhyung was to even his most insignificant of flings. But when Doojoon broke up with his girlfriend (the one whose picture he still carries), all Yoseob had done was smile and pat him on the back. Doojoon hadn’t known what to make of that then, and still doesn’t know what to make of it now.
It’s stupid that it still bothers him, but it does.
Getting drunk at a noraebang is the best idea Doojoon feels he’s ever had. Because 1) he’s drunk and 2) it’s at a noraebang. Junhyung is one of the best people to be drunk with (at a noraebang), because when he drinks, he’s like a derailed train. As in, he doesn’t stop until some external force (normally Dongwoon or Yoseob) stops him.
Junhyung falls into the couch, laughing maniacally with his shot glass held up. “Pour me one more,” he demands, rolling into Yoseob’s lap. “Just one more. A small one.” He holds his other hand up, index finger and thumb spaced about an inch apart, to demonstrate. “Just thiiiis much, really. I won’t drink anymore.”
Yoseob snorts. “You said that five shots ago.”
Junhyung’s eyes widen. “I did?” He buries his face in Yoseob’s neck, and Yoseob pets his hair accommodatingly. “I’m sorry I lied, Yoseobie. I’ll never do it again.” Yoseob looks at Doojoon and rolls his eyes, but Doojoon’s too busy staring at the way Junhyung is affectionately nuzzling Yoseob’s neck to notice.
Dongwoon’s sitting with the binder of songs, looking bored. “Are we singing anymore?”
“I want to sing,” Yoseob says, while pouring Junhyung another shot. His tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth like it always does when he’s concentrating, which Doojoon has always found cute. “After I take care of this mess.”
“I’m not a mess,” Junhyung indignantly slurs, and Yoseob bursts into laughter, spilling half the soju on his jeans. “I’m not,” Junhyung says, pulling his face out of Yoseob’s neck. “You’re so mean to me, even when I don’t do anything to you.”
Yoseob pulls a face. “I guess I’m taking this shot, then.”
“Fine.” Junhyung stands up unsteadily, yanks at the hem of his shirt, and takes two steps to the right, where Doojoon’s sitting. “I like Doojoon better. He’s quiet. And strong.”
“I’m drunk,” Doojoon declares, throwing his arms out. Junhyung falls into them, mumbling happily, and then attempts to arrange himself in a way that’s less intrusive to Doojoon’s personal space. He settles on resting his head on Doojoon’s shoulder (but not nuzzling), his right leg thrown over Doojoon’s left.
“Me too,” he says cheerfully. “I don’t like Yoseob.”
“You seemed to like him fine when you were violating his neck,” is what Doojoon wants to say, but he can’t get his tongue to work like it should. He settles for growling, and Junhyung makes what sounds suspiciously like a purring noise in response.
Yoseob’s still laughing, but he manages to scoot over to where Dongwoon is sitting to choose a song. He points at the page, and Dongwoon sighs but obediently puts the song up on the screen. Doojoon winces when the opening notes of Gee filter through the speakers, and Junhyung makes a strangled noise, either of great joy or great pain.
“Make it stop,” Doojoon says, covering his ears.
“It’s my favorite song,” Yoseob yells, bouncing cheerfully in place. He stumbles a little, then rights himself, giggling.
Junhyung perks up, and jerks forward in a pathetic attempt to get up. “I like it too,” he yells, struggling. “Wait, I want to sing.”
“You can’t even sit up,” Doojoon says, trying to restrain him. Junhyung goes limp, and then begins squirming.
“I like Yoseob better,” he says pathetically.
“You’re very fickle,” Dongwoon observes. For a second, Doojoon is irrationally jealous of his sobriety.
“I like people who’re nice to me,” Junhyung declares. He’s slurring so badly Doojoon can barely understand him, and he idly wonders when exactly Junhyung is going to pass out.
“Never,” Junhyung says cheerfully.
Doojoon blinks. “Can you read my mind?”
“You’re thinking out loud,” Dongwoon says helpfully.
“Oh.” While Doojoon is busy wondering about the connection between his brain and mouth, Junhyung makes a break for it. He’s successful, flopping over on the floor and crawling over to where Yoseob is bopping around, microphone in hand.
“I like you,” he says, while tugging at the hems of Yoseob’s jeans.
Doojoon dislikes this greatly.
“You’re thinking out loud again,” Dongwoon says, rolling his eyes.
Junhyung has somehow managed to get up and find the other mic, and has enthusiastically joined Yoseob in an interpretive dance that involves a lot of dramatic arm-flailing and hip-bumping. Doojoon decides that closing his eyes is, at that point, the best option.
The five minute walk to the practice studio is the longest five minutes of Doojoon’s life. He clings to Dongwoon’s neck for dear life and takes slow, stumbling steps.
“Don’t throw up, don’t throw up,” Dongwoon chants in his ear, as they walk. Doojoon scrapes his elbow on the brick wall, and he winces.
“Dongwoon-ah,” he says. “I think I-”
“Please don’t say you think you’re going to throw up.”
Doojoon shakes his head, and holds his elbow up. “I cut myself. It hurts.”
“There’s a first aid kit at the studio,” Dongwoon says, hauling Doojoon up with a grunt. “You’ll be fine.”
Doojoon cranes his head over to where Yoseob is carrying a completely incapacitated Junhyung on his back with a patient smile on his face. Junhyung has his face buried in Yoseob’s neck, and he’s murmuring incoherently as Yoseob makes soft assenting noises.
“Why can’t you carry me,” Doojoon says, leaning even more heavily against Dongwoon.
“Because you only had seven shots, and not…thirteen.” Dongwoon props Doojoon against the wall behind him and pats his pockets down. “Where are the keys?”
“I have them,” Yoseob says. “Left pocket, if you can reach them. I don’t want to drop him.”
Dongwoon makes a face and reaches in Yoseob’s pocket, gingerly pulling the key out and opening the door to the practice studio. Yoseob rushes in with a happy yelp, and dumps Junhyung on the couch. Dongwoon and Doojoon stumble in behind him, and Dongwoon closes and locks the door behind them.
“We bought you a pillow,” Yoseob says, handing it to Junhyung. Junhyung makes a pleased noise, and grabs at it, hugging it to his chest.
“I love you, Yoseobie.”
Yoseob beams. “I love you, too. Now to go sleep.” He turns to Dongwoon. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll just dump him here,” Dongwoon says with a shrug.
“Excuse you. I’m not garbage. You can’t just dump me somewhere.” Doojoon sits down on the couch next to Junhyung. “Look. I sat down by myself.”
Dongwoon laughs. “Good job, hyung.” He tosses him a blanket and another pillow. “Hey, hyung, where’re the other blankets?”
Yoseob scratches the back of his head. “Maybe they’re back here. Come help me look.” Dongwoon follows him away from the couch, and Doojoon blearily watches them go before turning to Junhyung.
“Hey,” he says, tugging on Junhyung’s sleeve. “Hey, wake up.”
Junhyung grunts in response, and peers at him over the pillow. “What?”
“I love Yoseob more,” Doojoon says, trying to be as clear as possible. “More then you, okay. A lot more than you.”
Junhyung’s eyes soften, and crinkle up at the corners as he smiles. “Okay, Doojoonie. I love you, too.”
Doojoon rests his back, and pulls his blanket up to his chin. “I guess I like you, too, Junhyungie.”
Junhyung’s only response is a soft snore. Doojoon falls asleep after that.
“Wake up.”
Doojoon opens his eyes, and immediately closes them again. “Light.”
“Shouldn’t have fallen asleep by a window,” Junhyung says matter-of-factly. Doojoon takes a chance opening his eyes again, and Junhyung pauses his meticulous blanket folding to look at him smugly.
“Why are you looking at me like that.” Doojoon throws his arm over his eyes, and slowly sits up. His head is throbbing. His brain feels like it’s been through a blender. He wants to go back to sleep and not wake up for another three days.
“I know something you…well I guess you know it. But you weren’t fully cognizant of it until it came to you last night, probably because of the way I was acting. So I guess you should be thanking me-”
“Why are you talking,” Doojoon moans. “Why are you so happy.”
Junhyung shrugs. “I don’t get hangovers. No consequences to my bad choices.”
“I hate you.”
A slow smile spreads across Junhyung’s face, and Doojoon decides he hates that too. “You said you like me last night,” Junhyung says. “I’m going to cherish that forever.”
“Ugh.”
“You know what else you said?” Doojoon hears the creak of springs as Junhyung sits down next to him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him.
“What.”
“That you love Yoseob. More than I ever could.” Junhyung’s smile has too much smugness in it to even be considered a smile, and Doojoon kind of wants to punch it off his face. He would, if moving didn’t hurt so much.
He sits up slowly, and gingerly cracks his neck. Pain pulses down his back. “I’m not even addressing that,” he says, reaching up to massage his shoulders. Junhyung shoves his hands out of the way and begins working his fingers over Doojoon’s neck and upper back, and Doojoon almost purrs with pleasure.
“Well, for the record,” Junhyung says, “I believe you.”
“About what.”
“That you love him way more than I ever could.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Junhyung sighs. “He likes you, too. I’m pretty sure.”
“Bullshit.” Doojoon moves away, and slowly stands up to fold his blanket. “I’m pretty sure he likes you.”
Junhyung stares up at him, and then explodes into loud, obnoxious laughter. Doojoon drops the blanket to clamp his hands over his ears, and Junhyung falls back in the couch, clutching at his stomach and kicking his legs up. “That’s hilarious,” he gasps, wiping his eyes.
Doojoon feels the petulant pout forming on his lips, but doesn’t do anything to stop it. “Why.”
“Because you’re such an idiot,” Junhyung says. “He’s liked you for ages, you’ve just been totally clueless.”
“I haven’t,” Doojoon says indignantly. “I just didn’t know how much I liked him until you guys started hanging out more for choreographing and I didn’t get to see him as often, and then you broke your arm and he was all concerned about that and your girlfriend problems, and….” He trails off, and stares up at Junhyung, who is looking at him pityingly.
“You were jealous of me.”
“I’m an idiot,” Doojoon concedes.
“Yes.” Junhyung grabs his wrist and pulls him down on the couch. “I’ll help you woo him, if you want.”
“Ew, did you really just call it wooing.” Doojoon yanks his arm out of Junhyung’s grip. “I don’t want to woo him.”
“So you’re just going to go up to him today and tell him you like him out of the blue, then?” Junhyung’s gaze is stubborn and challenging. Doojoon hates when he looks like that.
“No,” he says reluctantly.
“Okay,” Junhyung says. “So I think we’ve established that I need something to distract myself that doesn’t involve destroying my liver or possibly re-breaking my arm-”
Doojoon peers at his cast. “Did you break it again?”
Junhyung shrugs. “I think I hit it on the door when we were leaving. My head hurts a little, too.” He rubs his forehead experimentally.
“Yoseob hit your head on the door,” Doojoon says.
“Oh. Anyway,” Junhyung pauses and looks at Doojoon magnanimously. “I’m going to help you.”
“Do what?” Doojoon says warily.
“Woo Yoseob.”
“Because you have such a great track record with relationships,” Doojoon says reflexively. He kicks himself when Junhyung’s expression flattens out and darkens. “Shit. I mean, I just don’t want this to get all involved and stuff. I’ll do something nice for him, like, one thing, and hopefully he’ll like it enough to admit that he likes me and we’ll…be happy.” He looks up sheepishly. “Sorry.”
Junhyung shrugs. “It’s fine.”
They sit in an awkward silence, during which Doojoon wills away his hangover and stupid tongue, and Junhyung pokes a pencil inside his cast to scratch an itch.
“So what’re you going to do?” Junhyung tosses the pencil to the side, folds his legs under him, and leans forward.
“I don’t know,” Doojoon says miserably. “Do I have to think of it now.”
“We’ll get you some aspirin and coffee,” Junhyung says. He stands and pulls Doojoon up with him. “And then we’ll talk.”
The thing is, it’s true that Yoseob starts spending more time with Junhyung and Dongwoon and less time with Doojoon when he starts dancing and competing at the club. They spend long hours together, watching videos and coming up with choreography and perfecting routines, and though Doojoon’s never really been jealous of Dongwoon, who they all treat like a little brother, it’s different with Junhyung. It’s that small, fond smile that he reserves only for Yoseob that bothers Doojoon the most, because it’s affectionate and open in a way that Junhyung never is with anyone else.
Doojoon doesn’t like that Yoseob is someone else’s exception.
He knows in the back of his mind that he took the DJing gig just so he could spend more time with Yoseob, and maybe do something that is more relevant to both their interests. Music and dancing go hand in hand, after all.
Junhyung doesn’t force Doojoon to face sunlight without shades, and instead brings four huge cups of coffee from Starbucks, a box of crackers, and produces a bottle of aspirin from the first aid kit. He waits until Doojoon finishes the first coffee and some crackers, then hands him a couple of aspirin.
“I didn’t know you were this much of a lightweight,” he says cheerfully, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen and sitting down next to Doojoon. “How much did you drink?”
Doojoon grumbles. “I don’t remember.”
Junhyung shrugs. “Okay. So what do you want to do?”
“Where’d Yoseob and Dongwoon go?”
“Yoseob had go help his parents and Dongwoon’s at a piano recital. We didn’t make him late or anything, don’t worry,” Junhyung adds. “Let’s get to it.”
“I don’t know,” Doojoon says. He wants an ice pack to put on his forehead.
“Well, since you’re out of commission.” Junhyung looks at him pointedly. “I did some thinking while I was out, and I figured you should stick to your strengths.”
Doojoon looks at him, confused. “Soccer?”
“That other thing you do,” Junhyung says, staring at him flatly. “DJing. Make him a specialized mix.”
“Like a mix of love?”
“Don’t call it that.”
Doojoon raises his eyebrows. “A mix of very special feelings? Great affection?”
Junhyung stares at him. “…Tell him it’s for dancing, okay. With songs that send a message of great affection. I’ll help you come up with the tracklist, if you want, but mixing and stuff is obviously all on you.”
Doojoon sighs. “Yeah. Thanks.” He pauses, and watches as Junhyung begins scribbling on the pad. “Hey, you’re all right, right? Last night was supposed to be for you, with the soju and the pillow, so…”
“Yeah.” Junhyung looks up and gives him a small smile. “I’m better now. Thanks.”
Doojoon shrugs. “What’re friends for?”
Junhyung rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling when he goes back to writing.
“Sorry I ditched you,” Yoseob says, the following Monday. He pounces on Doojoon and hangs off his back for a second, then hops off and grabs his arm. “My mom called and was yelling about missing alcohol, so I had to go and pretend to look for it.”
Doojoon snorts. “You didn’t ask to take any? Or leave money at the register?”
“They don’t pay me when I work there anyway,” Yoseob says. “And seriously, would you tell your parents you’re taking alcohol from their shop?”
Doojoon considers this. “Guess not.”
“Yeah.” Yoseob lets go of his arm, and walks jauntily with him. “Were you okay when you woke up?”
“I felt like shit,” Doojoon says. “Junhyung got me coffee and nursed me back to health, though.”
“You wouldn’t be the man you are today without Junhyung,” Yoseob says solemnly. He cracks up, and Doojoon rolls his eyes. “Are you coming to our class for lunch today or should we come to yours?”
“I think I’m going to eat with Hyunseung today, actually,” Doojoon says, trying not to stutter. “I haven’t hung out with him since I started DJing and I feel kind of bad.”
Yoseob looks at him, scrutinizing, but he shrugs. “Cool. I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Doojoon says. “Definitely.”
Doojoon isn’t used to being awkward with Yoseob. It’s only happened twice before: when Doojoon caught Yoseob crying after he broke his leg when they were thirteen, and when Yoseob walked into Doojoon’s room unannounced to catch him singing an enthusiastic rendition of some g.o.d. song to his collection of stuffed animals. The latter was embarrassing for the obvious reasons, but the former was only because Doojoon had never really seen Yoseob cry before that. He’d seen Yoseob get mad, throw temper tantrums, and be sad in that quiet way of his, but he’d never seen Yoseob shed a tear for anything. He remembers being overwhelmed by that need to protect him, like he had been in second grade with the bullies, and that’s what makes it awkward.
Yoseob’s shown plenty of times that he's the last person to need protecting, but Doojoon just can’t kick the urge. And that’s what really makes that situation awkward.
“I’m not putting Juliette on this mix,” Doojoon says. “It’s a dumb pop song, and Juliette isn’t even spelled right, and I know that Yoseob’s made fun of that before, so-”
“It has a good beat,” Junhyung argues. “And if this mix is for dancing, which it is-”
“Supposedly,” Doojoon mutters.
“Then you need have songs with good beats,” Junhyung continues, ignoring him.
“Okay, but I’m not putting Hero on here.”
Junhyung angles his head to look at the list. “That’s your handwriting.”
Doojoon flushes. “Take it off.”
Junhyung crosses it off with a flourish.
“Let’s go to the mall,” Yoseob says, falling into the empty seat next to Doojoon. Doojoon jumps; the teacher had dismissed them at four, but he’d stayed behind to organize his bag and avoid running into Yoseob in the hall.
“I thought you left,” he mutters, shoving pencils into a side pocket and zipping it shut.
Yoseob frowns. “I didn’t see you in the hall so I came looking. Come on, you’ve been working on mixing with Junhyung all week and we haven’t hung out at all. Let’s go somewhere and do something. I’ll buy you ice cream. We can get cookie dough instead of Oreos. It’ll be great.”
Doojoon stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder, and Yoseob stands too, looking at him expectantly. “I was thinking of just going back and doing some more mixing. Junhyung says he wants to choreograph something new, so I’m working on new stuff for you guys.”
“Oh.” Yoseob looks down at his shoes, and kicks a chair leg. “So nothing else is going on?”
“No. Why?”
Yoseob shrugs. “It just feels like you’ve been avoiding me, but I can’t figure out if I’ve done anything to piss you off, or if there’s another reason.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and scuffs his shoes against the floor. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Junhyung.”
“I’m not mad at you,” Doojoon says. He feels a bit desperate to make Yoseob understand that, and he hopes it doesn’t show in his voice. “I swear. I’m just trying to make this mix as good as Junhyung says the choreo is going to be, and you know that takes a lot of time.”
“Sure.” Yoseob nods, but it doesn’t sound like he really understands. He turns and begins walking away, and Doojoon rushes to catch up to him.
“Let’s go to the mall.”
Yoseob beams. “Ha! Dongwoon told me to kick the chair like that; I knew it’d make you feel bad. No, no, no, wait, where are you going.” He’s laughing as he tugs Doojoon back into the classroom, and wraps his arms around Doojoon’s waist, from the side. “I’m still buying ice cream.”
Doojoon wriggles out of Yoseob’s grasp and pulls him into a headlock. “With tons of mix-ins.”
“At least five,” Yoseob chokes out amenably. Doojoon slowly lets him go, and Yoseob bounces out of reach. “Let’s go.”
Doojoon follows him out, and throws an arm across his shoulders as they walk down the hall.
“I really was bummed that I hadn’t seen you all week,” Yoseob says, when they walk through the doors. “Since you normally let me sit there when you mix.”
Doojoon pulls him in closer. “I wanted it to be a surprise. If I finish it by this weekend I’ll give it to you.”
“Awesome.”
“That was stupid,” Junhyung says. He spins a CD around his finger, and Doojoon grabs it and slams it down on one of the turntables.
“I can finish it by tomorrow,” Doojoon says. He fiddles with the gain, then turns one of the equalizer buttons. “We have all the songs, and I only need to mix a couple of them, since all the beats are already there. And I basically told him I’d finish it by the weekend, so I kind of have to. Here, should I add a reverb here, or do you think it sounds too dense?”
Junhyung stares at him. “If you like him so much, why didn’t you ever tell him before?”
“I don’t like him that much,” Doojoon says. He doesn’t convince either of them.
“You never rush your mixing. I remember Yoseob complaining about how you kept bugging him about the beat mixing you were doing a while back, and how the two options you were telling him to choose from sounded the exact same.”
“They didn’t,” Doojoon says defensively. “The syncing on one was completely different-”
Junhyung gives him a look that clearly tells him he’s missing the point.
“I didn’t know I liked him until now,” Doojoon says, finally. “It’s just one of those things that comes to you, I guess.”
Junhyung smiles. “Glad you figured it out.”
Doojoon isn’t used to being awkward with people in general. He’s been told his entire life that he’s a people person, and has the hoards of friends and acquaintances to prove it. He’s awkward when relationships end, though. It’s an unfamiliar and unsettling feeling, and he first experienced it when he had a fight with his friend in first grade. It was over a pencil sharpener, or over who got to tug on Soomi’s long, perfect braid, or something equally stupid, but the boy-Doojoon doesn’t remember his name-kicked Doojoon in the shins and ran off crying, and Doojoon didn’t know how to respond when the teacher forced them to make up. They didn’t make up, of course, because tugging a girl’s braid when you’ve told your friend that he can do it is unforgiveable, and Doojoon suffered through the rest of the year trying to avoid the boy’s gaze and shuffling around him during free time.
He becomes used to it later on, when he breaks up with his first girlfriend at thirteen, his second at fifteen, his third at sixteen, and his fourth (the one whose picture is still in his wallet) at seventeen, four months ago, but it’s still an unsettling feeling. He doesn’t like seeing any of them in the halls, but especially the last one, because he never knows what to say, and the weight of his wallet in his back pocket becomes even more pronounced when he sees her.
Doojoon’s fine feeling that way with them, though. The relationships are over, and though he’s good at being friends with girls, he’s willing to cut his losses.
He’s not fine with feeling that way around Yoseob, even if it’s fleeting or temporary. There’s too much between them. Much more than four failed year-long relationships with girls who have long moved on.
Junhyung informs them that the club is having another competition night on Saturday. Doojoon gets the text when he’s putting his finishing touches on the mix, and he slaps the CD into a case and stuffs it into his bag.
“I’ll give it to him after tonight’s over,” he says to Junhyung when they’re waiting in line outside the warehouse where the club is.
Junhyung shrugs. “Just make sure he’s not in a bad mood.”
“Why would he be?” Doojoon hands his bag to the bouncer to search, and walks through the metal detector.
“If we lose again.” Junhyung passes through after him, and then walks ahead. “I have to go talk to Haw; I’ll see you guys in a couple of minutes.”
Doojoon walks to the back of warehouse to where the turntables are, and drops his bag under the table. Someone comes up to him with a basket of CDs-the music different groups want him to play, and he takes them, stacks them according to the list that comes with the CDs, and gets ready with the first one.
It’s easy to get caught up in the theatricality of it all. Doojoon spins CDs and messes with balance and the equalizer, and rocks back and forth between the two turntables, one hand always on his headphones, the other always on the deck. He doesn’t really have to do much, most of the time, but it’s enough of a distraction that he doesn’t have to think about what he should say to Yoseob.
“You look bored,” Yoseob says, popping up behind Doojoon during a break. He slurps noisily from his bottled water, and gives the CD on the turntable an experimental spin.
Doojoon stops it with his index finger. “All the groups gave me CDs tonight.”
Yoseob gives him a quick onceover, then smiles. “You can mess with ours if you want. I can break it down if you give me a good beat.”
Doojoon bursts into laughter. “Break it down?”
“I could,” Yoseob protests. He flicks some water at Doojoon, then dances out of reach when Doojoon grabs for him threateningly. “Or don’t,” he says. “Just stand here, looking catatonic.”
“I’m doing deep thinking,” Doojoon says.
“I guess that explains why you look so tired,” Yoseob chirps. He scampers out of the way again, then grabs Dongwoon and uses him as a human shield.
“I was just coming to tell you that we’re up,” Dongwoon says. “Please don’t pull me into the crossfire.”
“Okay,” Yoseob says cheerfully. He grabs Dongwoon by the wrist and tugs him away.
They don’t win that night, but Junhyung is still in a good mood when they leave the club. “He got some girl’s number,” Dongwoon says loudly, and Junhyung clamps a hand over his mouth. “Gina,” Dongwoon says, struggling against him. “He kept staring at her the entire night.”
“The solo act? With the hair?” Yoseob makes some vague gesture around his head, and Dongwoon nods. “Good,” Yoseob says. “She looked nice.”
“She looked older” Dongwoon singsongs. Yoseob wiggles his eyebrows, and Doojoon laughs when Junhyung jams his hands into his pockets and scowls.
They make their way back home slowly, dropping Dongwoon off at home and then abandoning Junhyung in a convenience store when he stops to get a soda. It’s mostly Yoseob who does the abandoning, and Doojoon follows to make sure that he doesn’t get hit by a car in his euphoria.
It’s only when they’re alone that Doojoon becomes conscious of the weight of the CD in his bag. Which is stupid because CDs don’t weigh anything and it’s really all in his head, but it’s enough for Yoseob to abruptly stop walking and stare at him, head cocked. Doojoon almost walks past him.
“What?”
“You’re being weird.” Yoseob frowns. “Again. Seriously, if something’s wrong, or if I’ve done something wrong, just tell me.”
Doojoon flounders mentally. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Yoseob shrugs. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“No. Look.” Doojoon reaches into his bag and pulls out the CD case, and thrusts it at Yoseob. “I finished the mix.”
Yoseob lights up. “Cool! Wait, can I listen to it now? Do you have the tracklist? We’re only a couple blocks away from the studio, right? Let’s go.”
Doojoon starts pacing when Yoseob pops the CD into the player, then sits down and buries his face in his hands when the modified first beats of Somebody to Love pulse through the speakers. He sneaks a peek at Yoseob, who looks politely puzzled but still delighted, and watches as he begins to move to the music. Arms first, then minute movements with his feet, then his legs. He stops when he realizes Doojoon is looking, and beams.
“I like what you’ve done with it,” he says, bounding over. “I don’t get why it was a huge secret, but whatever. Where’s the tracklist?”
“On the table,” Doojoon says, trying to keep his voice steady.
Yoseob retrieves the list, still smiling, and reads it as he walks back over to Doojoon. His smile slowly gives way to a puzzled frown, and when he’s made it over to Doojoon, he’s just frowning. “What was this for again?”
Doojoon clears his throat. “Choreography?” Yoseob stares at him unconvinced, and he tries again. “Dancing? For you? Which is why I didn’t show you until now?”
“Then why’s Juliette on here?”
“It has…a good beat?” Doojoon offers tentatively.
“Love in this Club?”
Doojoon sinks lower in his seat. “Also a good beat.”
Yoseob peers at him over the sheet. “Sexy Love?”
“It’s for you,” Doojoon squeaks.
Yoseob freezes. “Like, for me for dancing, or for me for me?”
“For you for you,” Doojoon says, even though he’s not really sure what that means. “I mean, it’s supposed to mean I like you. Like a mix of love. Or great affection. Even though Junhyung told me not to call it that.”
“You made me a mix of love?” Yoseob’s expression is unreadable.
“I’m wooing you?” Doojoon stands up slowly. “Junhyung said it was a good idea. I don’t know. Clearly it was a bad idea, so-”
“Does this mean you want to bag me like some groceries?” Yoseob’s tone is teasing. “Does everything I do keep you strung?”
Doojoon’s mind stutters to a halt. “Yes? I mean, yes.”
Yoseob falls into the couch, laughing uncontrollably.
“It means I like you,” Doojoon says indignantly. “I don’t know about bagging you like some groceries, because that’s kind of weird, but you’re my best friend and I like you. A lot.”
“You just need somebody to love,” Yoseob says, body convulsing with giggles. He rolls off the couch, and at the last second grabs Doojoon and pulls him down too. “You like the way I move on the floor.”
“I do,” Doojoon says pathetically. “You look…very nice.” Yoseob falls into his lap, laughing louder than ever, and Doojoon pushes him away.
“For the record,” Yoseob says, straightening up, “I like you, too.” And then he leans in.
Doojoon meets him halfway. Yoseob’s lips are warm and soft and smooth against his, and Yoseob makes a soft noise of pleasure before moving closer, sitting up slowly and pushing his fingers through Doojoon’s hair. He moves slowly, straddling Doojoon and pushing him back against the couch, and even though it’s been a week since Doojoon realized how he feels, this feels like enough gratification for the last ten years of knowing him.
Confessing to anyone has never been so roundabout for Doojoon, but Yoseob’s always the exception.
Doojoon throws out the picture of his ex-girlfriend and replaces it with a picture of Yoseob.