Round 8: Your Every Desire (TEAM AU - Part 3/5)

[dashboarding]

three

Wooyoung surveys his room with an accomplished feeling. He doesn't know why it took him so long to unpack his duffel bag, but now that he has, the room Nichkhun's lent to him feels a lot more... personal. Comfortable. His few sets of clothes are folded neatly on a recently dusted bookshelf, his school uniform is pressed and hanging over the most straight-backed chair Wooyoung had been able to scrounge up. His books arranged on the bottom shelf, under his clothes, in order from largest to smallest. His threadbare novelettes stand at the very end of the line, their worn spines looking quite handsome in their new home.

Home. Hm.

He's been living in Nichkhun's shop for almost two weeks now and it's the first time that word has crossed Wooyoung's mind in this context. He still thinks of his own house as his home. He probably always will. But Wooyoung's not sure that he'd like to think of Nichkhun's place as "home." Home suggests something mundane, something plain, and during the last two weeks, if nothing else, Wooyoung's learned that Nichkhun's shop is anything but.

Chansung’s hunch about the shop is proven correct over and over: Nichkhun really does have the uncanny ability to bring forth any item that a customer may want. Even though Nichkhun has told Wooyoung that this is what his shop does, it’s a real spectacle to see him in action, following the truth of his own store slogan, finding even the most obscure of products to sell to even the most fussy of patrons.

Before he started working here, Wooyoung had no idea about the kind of hidden desires people were keeping quiet, within themselves. Customers have come into the shop to ask for rare playing cards, exotic spices, old sepia photographs of people they haven't seen for years and years, and even, on one memorable occasion, a ball gag tied with silk rope. Once Wooyoung had caught sight of that particular request, he hadn't been able to look at the middle-aged lady talking demurely to Nichkhun in quite the same way.

Wooyoung is coming to look at Nichkhun in a different way too. He is more appreciative of Nichkhun's skill as a salesman, now. Because Nichkhun always seemed to know the right price to ask, whether it is an item the customer had on their person, or money, or a favour. The customer might hem and haw and delay the transaction, but in the end, he always agreed to pay. Nichkhun never caved in to bartering, and Wooyoung, while skittering around the shop, sweeping and dusting and tidying, frequently overheard Nichkhun say to customers phrases like, "The price is fair," and "My offer stands. The only question is if you are willing to take it," and most regularly, "An equal trade. Thank you for your business." And what is most amazing about the prices Nichkhun sets is that whatever Nichkhun received during a transaction, he always inevitably made use of it sometime in the future. The five thousand won that a small girl had used to buy a sparkly, plastic fairy wand -- Nichkhun used the money to purchase a small fern that turned out to be the perfect decoration for a later customer's new office. The brooch that this office worker traded for the fern was then, a few days later, bought by an old woman who had been looking for a replacement for one that she'd lost -- apparently in a very similar size, shape and colour to the one now in Nichkhun's possession. The hairpin she had given up was then snatched away by an antique dealer who’d been scouring town for just such an ornament. And so it went, with one perfect sale leading to the next, each trade necessary for another customer in the future, coincidences piling on top of each other until Wooyoung stopped keeping track and had no choice but to accept what Nichkhun had told him from the very beginning: this was simply the way his shop functioned.

Nichkhun makes a point to refute all of Wooyoung's (admittedly sly) insinuations that Nichkhun is somehow magical, but he still gives out beatific smiles whenever Wooyoung voices his amazement at another "matching sale" (as Wooyoung has started to call them). Nichkhun also gives out exasperated eye-rolls whenever Wooyoung suggests he’s been setting up these situations just to fool him.

"I'm just an ordinary guy with a weird job," Nichkhun often reminds Wooyoung, and it makes Wooyoung scoff internally. Nichkhun is not ordinary. Nichkhun has weird powers. Subtle powers.

If this were another world like in Wooyoung's storybooks, it'd be easy to explain things. Nichkhun could be a fairy godmother (godfather?), or a genie, or a -- what was it that he'd thought of before? A witch? A warlock? Whatever. It’s fun to think about, but Nichkhun isn't some character in Wooyoung's book, and Wooyoung's life isn't a storybook. He wishes.

Although, getting to see the astounded smiles on people's faces when they find their perfect something among the treasure trove of Nichkhun's shop, Wooyoung sometimes really does feel like he's in a different world.

Wooyoung's days are made of a simple routine now: breakfast with Nichkhun, school, return to the shop to help keep the place clean, have dinner with Nichkhun, and dance practise four days a week, including both weekend evenings. Grocery shopping occasionally. Taking turns cooking disgusting dishes that don't have the right to be called food. Wooyoung’s getting used to it. Even though the shop is still strange to him, spending practically all of his time here no longer is. Plus, now that the store has been open for a while, the mob of girls who'd taken a daily pilgrimage to see Nichkhun has all but disappeared, probably moving to bigger and hipper pastures. Without them, the interior of the store is pleasant and relaxing all the time. Sometimes Junho and Chansung come by to hang out or do homework in Wooyoung's room. Nichkhun never minds; says he likes having a busy shop. (Wooyoung just thinks that Nichkhun likes the homemade baked goods Chansung always brings with him when he visits.) Junho actually tries to study, but Chansung likes ignoring his homework in lieu of watching Nichkhun work. Evidently, he's still caught on the so-called "Mystery of Dreamhouse" that lots of students still speculate about.

"Wooyoung, Wooyoung," he taps Wooyoung's shoulder during one day. They're sitting at the bottom of the stairway, listening to a set of Junho's newly bought CDs. Across the room, Nichkhun is wrapping up a complete set of chalice-shaped mugs for a beaming older man. Chansung leans closer to whisper, "Have you figured it out yet? How Nichkhun does that? There's got to be a trick to it."

"What kind of trick?" Wooyoung asks, curious. He's watched Nichkhun for hours at a time and still can't figure out a pattern Nichkhun uses to define "a fair price" or "an equal trade," much less how Nichkhun always has exactly whatever item the customer happens to be looking for.

"I don't know! You tell me. Does he have, like, ESP or something? What about a secret workroom, with a crystal ball inside?"

"He's not a gypsy," Junho says, flipping through the CD insert. He's the only one who's still listening to the music; Wooyoung and Chansung both prefer hip hop to ballads and got bored long ago. Wooyoung lets Chansung pull his hand over and fiddle with his fingers as he considers his answer. He's not good with gossip.

"He's got two offices," he says. "In the back, I mean, beside the kitchen. I've seen one of them, it's got a normal desk and stuff. But I've never went in the other one. I thought it was a supply closet at first, but it might not be. Who knows. You know, it's none of my business."

"But you work here, don't you?" Chansung says exasperatedly. "You should know the ins and outs of the store. Maybe you can sneak around -- like, have you ever been in his bedroom? Find a spell book or something! I bet he has one hidden around here somewhere."

"I'm not going to go around snooping!" Wooyoung hisses. "Nichkhun already has been very generous with me stayi-- with my job," oh shit, he'd almost slipped up. Wooyoung pulls his hand away from Chansung. "It's not my business," he says again, more quietly. "And I don't want to invade his privacy. I don’t - like that.”

At that, Chansung's mouth snaps shut.

"Wooyoung, I didn't mean--"

The bell above the front door jingles loudly. "YO, SHOPKEEPER."

All three of their heads swivel around at the sound of the new customer: a tall, well-dressed man, wearing a pair of designer sunglasses. They stare.

"Is that," Chansung starts.

"No way," Junho says. "What could he be doing here?"

Wooyoung startles as he glances outside. "The mob of girls is back," he says faintly.

"Nichkhun!" the man shouts. "Are you here?"

Nichkhun hurries out from the backroom, holding two octopus plush dolls under his arms. "Yes, I'm here, I'm here!" His gaze stops on his visitor, and he breaks into a huge grin. "Taec! Wow, how are you?"

Chansung's eyes are as wide as dinner plates. "Ok Taecyeon," he breathes.

All right, Wooyoung tells himself. All right, fine. So surreal things happen in Nichkhun's shop. Sure, he knew that. Knows that. But this is kind of taking the cake, right now. Ok Taecyeon, the Ok Taecyeon, teen idol extraordinaire, actor, model, rapper, and all around heartthrob for girls (and some guys) ages ten to seventy -- leaning casually on the register counter, talking to Nichkhun like a long lost friend.

Wooyoung hasn't been this star stuck since the first time he'd got to meet Junho's brother.

"--had no idea you had set up shop here; good for you, man! As soon as I heard I decided to drop by to see how you've been. It must have been, what, a year, since I've seen you last?"

"More like three," Nichkhun smiles.

"Wow, no kidding," Taecyeon says, baring his trademark teeth in a grin. "Time flies."

"Well you've been busy!"

"Like you're even surprised," Taecyeon teases. "I bet you knew all this was coming."

Nichkhun waves a hand modestly. "Aw, Taec, don't be silly. I'm not a fortune teller, you know that. You've worked hard to get where you are, I just gave you a little help there at the start."

"I should thank you for that, somehow," Taecyeon says.

"It's not like I worked for free," Nichkhun shakes his head, and abruptly, their conversation continues in English.

Junho and Chansung look at Wooyoung. "Did not know Nichkhun spoke English fluently," Junho says. "Did you?"

"He mentioned living in the States before coming here," Wooyoung recalls. Nichkhun speaking English shouldn't be news to Wooyoung; his Korean is pretty much grade-school level. But whenever Nichkhun talked about life before Seoul (not that often, actually), he always spoke of his family in Thailand.

Their unabashed staring finally catches Taecyeon's attention. His eyebrows rise as he takes in the faces of the three teenagers sitting across the room, and his mouth opens, stunned.

"Rain?" he calls out.

Beside Wooyoung, Junho jolts.

Nichkhun leans over the counter, following Taecyeon's eye. "Oh! Sorry, I should have introduced you guys." He leads Taecyeon over and sweeps his arm across the three of them, ending at Wooyoung. "This is my, um... employee... helper? Assistent?"

"Assistant," Taecyeon corrects.

"Yes!" Nichkhun brightens. "Assistant. This is Wooyoung. He helps me keep my stuff in order. And these are his friends, Chansung and Junho."

"Aah," Taecyeon says, understanding. "You're Rain's little brother. You look just like him, dude."

"I am, and I know," Junho stands up and shakes Taecyeon's hand, bowing slightly. "You're Ok Taecyeon. I've seen you occasionally, when I go to my brother's shows, but we've never spoken. It's an honour to meet you in person."

"You're pretty formal for a normal guy," Taecyeon grins. "It's cool, you know. I'm not as old as I look. We're probably close in age."

"You're only a year older than us!" Chansung blurts.

"That's fine then. Khun here's a bit older than me, and I've never treated him with anything close to respect."

"This is very true," Nichkhun nods, his face completely straight.

Taecyeon just claps his shoulder fondly. "He's a nice one, isn't he?" he says, directing his attention to Wooyoung. "You're lucky to have him for a boss. There aren't many people in the world who have an occupation like Khun's. He does great things with Dreamhouse." His eyebrows rise and lower dramatically. "Although I guess if you guys hang around here a lot, you already know that."

Nichkhun's expression morphs into one of annoyance. "Stop it, you're embarrassing me."

"I'm just saying," Taecyeon laughs. "I was a customer here myself, actually. When Khun had his shop in Boston. In the States."

"Taec--"

"Really!" Chansung says excitedly. "Is that how you guys met?"

"Yeah, for sure. Couldn't resist this guy's catchphrase. Are you still using it, by the way? 'Anything your heart desires?' It's so cheesy, man."

"It still works," Nichkhun pouts. "And it's to the point."

"I guess you're right about that. You should still change it though. You've been sticking to the same thing for way too long." Taecyeon glances down at his watch. "Look, sorry, I wanted to stay longer, but I have to go or I'll be late for my next appointment. But we should catch up sometime. Are you free next week?"

"I'm always here, Taec, you know that."

"Give me a call, then. I'll come if I can." He flips his sunglasses back on his face and his cheeky smile flattens -- it suddenly shifts him back to looking just like his magazine photoshoots and movie posters: cool, collected, and larger than life. A celebrity. He takes Nichkhun's hand. "It was good to see you, Khun. I'm glad you're still in business."

"I'll bet," Nichkhun says wryly.

Taec grins again. "Well, you never know. I might need your help again sometime." He turns to go, but stops, as if just remembering something. "By the way," he says quietly, his expression unreadable under his sunglasses, "I was wondering. Are you taking good care of it?"

Nichkhun blinks, caught off guard, but then nods once. "Yeah. Of course. I'm -- I'm sorry you --"

"No." Taec shrugs, then straightens his back. "It's fine. It was my price to pay, right?" Before Nichkhun can answer, he waves and heads out. "See you around, Khun." The bell jingles as the front door opens, and for a short while, Wooyoung can hear a crescendo of high-pitched girlish screaming, but then the door shuts and the outside noise is dampened. Through the window, Wooyoung watches Taecyeon get into the passenger seat of a shiny black sedan, and drive away.

"Wow, hyung." Chansung enthuses, throwing his arm around Nichkhun's shoulders. "I had no idea you were friends with Ok Taecyeon."

Nichkhun actually looks a bit chagrined. "Well, we haven't talked in a long time. But we knew each other in the US. He was the first one who taught me Korean, actually. He -- he helped a lot, with my store. Back then." He sighs. "I'm sorry that he was kind of brash. I think the fame has gone a little bit to his head, although he's always been pretty obnoxious... that's just my opinion," he finishes hastily.

"Do you know if the rumours regarding him are true, then?" Chansung asks. "Like, all the drunken parties and going out with three girls at the same time, and all that stuff? I told Junho to ask his brother for details but he's always saying it's not respectful or whatever."

"I don't say it like that," Junho snaps. "I just don't want to use my brother like that."

"What's the point of having a famous brother if you can't take advantage of his fame once in a while?" Chansung asks irritably. Junho turns away, frowning. Wooyoung bites back a sigh; the two of them have had this argument so many times before Wooyoung has the whole thing memorized.

"Really, I'm not sure about the rumours," Nichkhun interjects smoothly, eager to keep the peace. "His private life is his own. But I don't remember him being involved in any scandalous stuff back in the States... well, he wasn't famous back then, so maybe that accounts for it. I can tell you that he's probably going to be breaking girls' hearts for years to come, though."

Chansung laughs. "Ooh! A playboy, right? He totally looks it though. Lucky guy, to have all the girls he could ever want." His voice trails off dreamily. "What a life, to be rich and famous."

"It's a different world, though, being famous," Nichkhun says. "It's not like normal life. You have to sacrifice a lot, to be able to keep up that kind of demanding lifestyle."

Junho's eyes widen a bit at this. "That's the kind of thing my brother says all the time. Do you have some kind of experience with that, hyung?"

"Of course not! I just know a lot about give and take relationships, that's all." Nichkhun's gives a small smile, but to Wooyoung, it looks a little strained. "It's my job to know about what people are willing to sacrifice to get what they want."

Wooyoung can't help a shiver at those words. He's never heard Nichkhun describe his position at Dreamhouse like that before. He wonders what it was that Ok Taecyeon bought from here, years ago.

"Do you have any other famous friends I should know about?" Wooyoung asks Nichkhun at dinner. "How many languages can you speak? Are you an alien?"

Nichkhun laughs so hard he nearly chokes on his rice. "Do I look like an alien to you?"

Wooyoung decides not to answer that.

"I do not look like an alien!" Nichkhun says.

"I didn't say you did," Wooyoung returns lightly.

"And no, I don't have other famous friends," Nichkhun grins. "Not yet, anyway. Hurry up and get famous, Wooyoungie. You and Chansung and Junho."

"Famous? Us?" Wooyoung asks, shocked. "For what?"

Nichkhun gives him a weird look. "For dancing, right? Isn't that what you want?"

Funny, how Nichkhun realized that without Wooyoung telling him. Because Wooyoung does want to be famous for his dancing. He wants to be known, to be leave his normal life behind and enter a new world where he is lauded for his talent, not punished for it. Wooyoung wants to live his life doing what he loves. He wonders if it shows on his face, just how badly he wants that.

His silence must have given something away, because Nichkhun's features shift: his smile lowers, and his eyebrows knit together slightly. He suddenly looks hesitant, maybe a little scared. For what feels like a long time, neither of them say anything, with Nichkhun presumably gathering his words and Wooyoung waiting for him to speak. Eventually, Nichkhun lets out a long breath and opens his mouth. "I -- Wooyoung, if you want that--" he says slowly. "If you really, really want it. I can help."

Wooyoung stares at him, perplexed. "What? How?"

"You -- you have to tell me something first," Nichkhun says. "You have to tell me why you came to my shop, that night. When you left your house."

What?

"Are you kidding me?" Wooyoung cries, shoving himself out of his chair. "I don't have to tell you that! You never asked before. And it's not like it concerns you." He’s reacting badly and he knows it, but he can’t help it. Nichkhun has breached the one topic Wooyoung wanted to avoid most of all. He feels his throat close as Nichkhun reaches over and grabs his wrist, gripping hard.

Nichkhun's eyes are pleading. "Wooyoung, I can tell you something about me, about my store, but it can't be for free, otherwise it won't work. I need an equal exchange. I can't bend the rules of the shop. You have to tell me something in return. And -- and I could help you --"

His grip turns just shy of painful.

"You're not making any sense," Wooyoung says brusquely, pulling away. "What do you mean, it can't be for free? They're just words! This isn't one of your sales. How is this going to help me? You barely know me, you know. How do you know if I even want your help?"

"Taec did," Nichkhun says, very softly, and lowers his eyes to the table. “Don’t you want to be well-known like Taec, Wooyoung?”

All of the air deflates out of Wooyoung like a loose balloon, and he falls dumbly back into his chair.

"What... what are you saying, hyung?" he asks. "You're saying that you made Taecyeon famous?"

Nichkhun doesn't meet his eyes. "You know his debut story, right? He talks about it all the time on TV. There were auditions in New York to find new Asian models, and he went just for the hell of it. He got in, and flew to Seoul, where he entered a televised talent competition and won that. That’s how he got his idol contract. It was so easy for him, each event leading naturally to the next one, like it was meant to all be. Like it was fate." When Nichkhun finally looks up, his eyes are very dark, his face very conflicted. "Funny thing about fate..."

Wooyoung feels his chest seize up.

Fate.

That's it, that’s what it feels like, when Nichkhun makes his sales. The endless row of coincidences, of crazily perfect chain of circumstances, of Nichkhun saying, "yes, I think I have just what you need," and, "Oh, someone exchanged this last week, but I think it'll be perfect for you," and, "Ah, I wonder if I could have this from you, instead? I think I could give it a very happy home." Each perfect item suited for each customer, traded for something of equal value, and that new item in turn ending up as a perfect item for a future customer. A never ending cycle of give and take with Nichkhun as the middle-man, reading everyone's desires.

What other explanation for this, other than magic? But that’s impossible.

Except... Wooyoung's seen it. He knows this is what Nichkhun does -- but it doesn't make sense.

There is a part of his mind that asks, does it need to?

"You said," Wooyoung says, "you were talking to Taecyeon before, and you said that you weren't a fortune teller. So you couldn't have known--"

"Everything has a price, Wooyoung," Nichkhun says. "All I have to do is read the price. I put my trust in time, that eventually whatever I get in the transaction will benefit another customer. This is the way my store works."

Magic, Wooyoung thinks weakly. He wishes he were lying down for this conversation.

Nichkhun's still talking. "In interviews, right? Taec always says he was lucky, to get accepted into the company. But it wasn't luck, or talent -- he wasn't the most talented contestant. He had the potential, but back then, he didn't have any experience with professional singing or dancing. He couldn't have won on his own merit. But he wanted to. He really, really wanted to win. You didn't know Taec back then, Wooyoung," Nichkhun’s voice lowers. "He was a good guy, but he wanted something more than the life he had. He got so caught up on the thought of being famous -- he was willing to sacrifice anything for it.

“No one knows this part of the story, but Taecyeon got eliminated from that talent competition. He was actually the first one cut. He flew back home to Boston the next day. And he came to me. And he told me what he wanted."

Oh God, Wooyoung thinks.

"So I made him an offer."

Oh shit.

"When he flew back to Korea, he met the producers of the show, they gave him another chance. The competition was still going. It was like he was never eliminated at all. And in the end, he won."

There is no possible way--

"I told you right from the start, do you remember?" Nichkhun's hand touches his wrist again, lightly this time, and Wooyoung doesn’t move away. His voice is very steady as he repeats the words Wooyoung has heard so many times before, said to every customer who comes through this eclectic and unbelievable shop: "I sell anything and everything. Your heart's desire. If you can pay for it, it's yours."

It's suddenly so quiet that Wooyoung can hear the clock ticking, his own strained breaths.

"I ran away from home because my father hit me and destroyed my room after he caught me coming back from dance practise," Wooyoung hears himself say. "He hates me dancing."

Nichkhun's pretty face tightens briefly, as if weighing Wooyoung's words, but then he nods.

"I can make you famous for your dancing," he states, and in that moment, under Nichkhun's unflinching gaze, Wooyoung believes him. Desperately, achingly believes him, so much so that he can feel the strength of his conviction throbbing through his body. "If you want it enough to pay the price."

Wooyoung asks, hushed, "What's the price?"

There’s no mistaking the darkness in Nichkhun's eyes now. He's never looked this serious before, this intense. There is not a trace of kindness on his face, and Wooyoung barely even recognizes him.

'What are you willing to offer?" Nichkhun replies.

Wooyoung doesn't have an answer to that. They stare at each other in an unsure silence until Nichkhun lets go of Wooyoung's wrist and smiles -- his entire face brightens as a result; the illusion breaks and it feels like a heavy weight is lifted off Wooyoung's chest. He can breathe normally again. He's sitting in Nichkhun's small kitchen, finishing his dinner, and everything is fine.

Except his body is drenched in a cold sweat.

"Finish eating and go to practise, Wooyoung," Nichkhun grins, pointing to Wooyoung's bowl of rice. "We can talk when you come back."

"Wooyoung, hey, are you okay?" Chansung asks, while the two of them sit on the ground, watching, while in the centre of the floor, Jaebeom give pointers on Junho's technique. "You've been kinda out of it tonight. Hey," he says, startled. "It's not about your family is--"

"I've just been thinking," Wooyoung interrupts. "About how Ok Taecyeon is basically our age, and yet he's so famous."

"Yeah," Chansung sighs longingly. "He's a lucky bastard."

Wooyoung glances sideways at him, considering. "Would you want to be like him, if you could?"

"Of course!" There's no hesitation in Chansung's answer. "He's rich and everyone knows his name and there are millions of girls falling at his feet."

"But it's not like your life is bad, as it is right now," Wooyoung reasons.

Chansung stares at him like he's crazy. "What does my life right now have to do with anything? Rich and famous! That's the way to be. Normalness is boring." A few paces away from them, Junho tries to spin into a backflip and trips. Jaebeom laughs and helps him up, but Junho seems less than pleased about his mistake. His face is red and thunderous.

"Again please," he says fiercely, and gets into position for Jaebeom to spot.

"He's been crazy since this afternoon at the shop," Chansung explains. "We were heading home and he told me to go ahead, that he was going to go to the grocery store for something. But I think he came straight here to practise."

"He didn't eat dinner then?" Wooyoung asks.

"Guess not." Chansung folds his arms. "He's been working hard lately, with Jaebeom hyung's help, and then today, when Taecyeon had called him Rain... Junho hates it when people mistake him for his brother, you know?"

"Yeah," Wooyoung says, watching Junho fall and get up again without rest. "I know."

Jaebeom has to take a break before Junho does, even though Junho is the one who's been jumping around tirelessly for the past ten minutes. Chansung and Jaebeom swap places, Jaebeom coming by to get a drink of water and Chansung going over to make sure Junho doesn't break a bone in his eagerness to challenge himself.

"Hey," Jaebeom nudges Wooyoung. "Is Junho upset about something? He seems like he's got a lot of steam to let off, I dunno."

"He got kind of riled up today," Wooyoung tells him. "He got mistaken for his famous brother again. He's... he's never really liked it, being compared to him. Something about not being able to pull himself from his brother's shadow?" Wooyoung's not sure how that saying goes; he's an only child.

"Oh, okay, I get it," Jaebeom says. Then, abruptly, "Who's his brother?"

"You don't know?" Wooyoung asks, eyebrows rising nearly to his hairline. "He's super famous." At Jaebeom's continued blank look, Wooyoung sighs. "You're so American, hyung. Why did you come to Korea, anyway? Junho's brother is Rain. The pop star."

"Oh, what? No way!" Jaebeom's head whips around to Junho and takes him in like he's never seen the guy before. "Oh, shit, they do look a lot alike. Rain, wow." He lets out an impressed whistle. Then his eyes widen. "Ah, fuck," he breathes. "Rain,” and he gets caught up in another bout of coughs. Wooyoung grimaces; Jaebeom’s coughing fits have become more frequent lately.

He rubs Jaebeom's back a few times while the other boy struggles to catch his breath. “Why aren't you taking medication for your cough and stuff? You've been sick for a while."

"It's not that bad," Jaebeom grouses. "Maybe I'm just not getting enough sleep lately. Whatever, I'm cool. Listen, about Rain. Does Junho ever say anything about... concerts and stuff? Like, does he know a lot about Rain's schedules and jobs?"

"Not really," Wooyoung says. "Sometimes, maybe. But they don't actually see each other that often. He gets kind of annoyed when Chansung pries too much, says it's not his job to be a gossip blog." He scratches his nose absently. "Why, what's up?"

Jaebeom shakes his head quickly. "Nothing, it's nothing."

Wooyoung can feel a smirk start to form on his lips. "Oh, don't worry, everyone gets sort of amazed whenever Rain is mentioned. He's very famous."

"It's not that," Jaebeom says. "It's -- I was just surprised, that's all. I didn't know Rain had a little brother."

"He does," Wooyoung raises a shoulder slightly. "They don't actually talk a lot, since Rain is always working. And Junho hates taking advantage of his brother's fame. Despises it. He's always saying that he wants to become known based on his own talents. But really, he has that drive to be better than his brother. He doesn't mention it, but it's pretty obvious. That's why he practises so hard." Wooyoung probably shouldn't be revealing all of this stuff about Junho, but Jaebeom's been really helpful and patient with all three of them the past few practises -- especially Junho. They've learned a lot from Jaebeom; it wouldn't be so bad to tell him things about them in return.

Jaebeom licks his lips thoughtfully. "He wants to be world famous, eh?"

"I think he just wants to have recognition for his own talents," Wooyoung says. "And since his brother is recognized all over, Junho has to aim for that too. He's joked around it before, says he's going to cut off all contact with family so no one will ever compare him to his brother again, and--" Wooyoung quickly amends himself. "He loves his brother though. I didn't mean anything bad. It's not like he's jealous, he just gets frustrated--"

"No, I get it," Jaebeom reassures him, mouth quirking. He says, "You're a pretty nice guy, Wooyoung, you know?"

"Me?" Wooyoung squeaks. He would never have used that word to describe himself. Neither would Junho or Chansung, probably. Nichkhun is a good example of a nice person. Wooyoung is not a nice person.

"Yeah, you are," Jaebeom says firmly. "You've got a good heart."

Wooyoung has no idea where Jaebeom is pulling this bullshit from.

"Anyway," Jaebeom flushes a bit, turning away. "Good to know why Junho's so practise-crazy. I thought he was trying to impress a girl or something."

"Hey, maybe that too!"

Jaebeom laughs. He takes another pull of his water bottle, attention going back to Junho trying to do a jump off of Chansung's back. "Junho's lucky," he mutters, almost to himself. "He doesn't have to choose between his family and his dream. So lucky." He sounds... angry. Pained. Tired.

Wooyoung politely pretends he doesn't hear.

Nichkhun is nowhere to be found when Wooyoung returns to Dreamhouse, and frankly, Wooyoung's thankful. He’d left dance practise much earlier than he usually did tonight, claiming a headache, but in truth, he had been too distracted by his earlier conversation with Nichkhun to focus well on his dancing. Wooyoung doesn't have an answer for Nichkhun’s question. Wooyoung wants a lot of things, so many things, but he has always been a conservative, slightly selfish person. There's not much that Wooyoung has in his life that is valuable; he doesn't know if he'd be willing to part with any of it.

But... the opportunity to dance as much as he wants is so tempting.

Oh, but to simply agree to Nichkhun's deal, just like that? Wooyoung's not that stupid. He's read enough fables to know that he shouldn't let his own desires overwhelm him from looking at the situation objectively. He's having enough trouble trying to reconcile the fact that Nichkhun -- silly, goofy, not-too-bright Nichkhun -- had sold Ok Taecyeon his fame and fortune. How did he even do that? That’s what Wooyoung should ask. In fact, Wooyoung will ask. And then Wooyoung can decide if he wants that too.

He's afraid, though, that he already does.

"Hyung," Wooyoung calls, once inside the store. He stops dead in his tracks when his ears pick up the faint tune of a familiar song. It's the same song that he'd heard Nichkhun playing the first night they'd met, out at front of the store. It was the song that had made Wooyoung late for his curfew (not that it mattered that much, in the end). Wooyoung, already caught in the melody, follows the song to the Employees Only door and lets himself inside the interior hall. The alcove is awash with white light, beaming out from the room beside Nichkhun's office -- the one room Wooyoung had never seen inside before. Right now, the door is wide open. And the music is coming from inside it.

Wooyoung tentatively walks inside, blinking harshly against the brightness. The room looks nothing at all like the rest of the shop. The walls are circular and painted a perfectly serene white. There are no chairs or cupboards or wooden shelves; in fact, the room seems remarkably hollow, save for a line of thick white rods edging along each wall, emerging vertically from the ground and converging smoothly together right at the top of the room, where they touch the ceiling. And in the centre of the room sits a small white table supporting three transparent glass jars, each containing a luminous red liquid. As Wooyoung stares at them, he notices that their red light is pulsing softly. One of the jars throbs at a rate that mismatches the other two, and it is beside this one where Nichkhun's tiny boombox sits.

Wooyoung slowly approaches the table, eyes caught on the three red jars. They're oddly beautiful, and as Wooyoung walks closer, he realizes they're emitting heat, not just light. He can't take his eyes off of them. He squints as he examines them closer, and he notes that none of the jars have any lids. How did the liquid get inside? Wooyoung places his hands carefully around the middle jar -- the glass is so warm -- to lift it up, but it doesn't budge. He tugs a little harder. The glass stays glued to the table. The table, too, is stuck firmly in place, and seems to be anchored to the white floor of the room.

How strange. How did Nichkhun make this room? It couldn't have come with the building. Is this where he's been hanging out, every time Wooyoung goes to dance practise? Wooyoung's seem him emerge from it plenty of times -- but that doesn't make sense. There's nothing here, except these jars and the boombox, and the weird row of poles lining circumference of the room, curving towards each other at the tips. Their pattern sort of reminds Wooyoung of a bird cage.

Wooyoung pinches himself just to make sure he's not hallucinating. This area certainly seems like a scene straight out of one of his fantasy novels.

The song playing from the boombox comes to a stop, then a second later, starts up again from the beginning. That voice... Wooyoung's sure he's heard it before -- even prior to the time Nichkhun had been playing the CD outside... Wooyoung reaches out and presses the stop button, and the music stops. At once, the entire room is bathed in a stifling silence. Wooyoung holds his breath. Now, he can hear the three jars pulsing simultaneously: the two filled jars go ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump, and the half-filled one follows at a more irregular pace. There's an additional uncoordinated beating sound echoing within his ears, and it takes a moment for Wooyoung to place the source. It's his own heartbeat.

Weirder and weirder.

Wooyoung turns his attention back to the boombox and pops open the lid. The disk inside is a generic store-bought CD, with a handwritten inscription scrawled across it in black ink. It's in English.

Nichkhun, please find Jay.

What is that supposed to mean, Wooyoung wonders, taking out the CD for a closer look at the message.

Something cracks. Loudly. Wooyoung looks down, panicking, but it's not the boombox. It's the third jar, the one half-filled. There is a huge, thick crack down the centre of the glass, from the very top to about a third of the height. Wooyoung sucks in a shocked breath. Shit, how did that happen? He hadn't even touched it and it just broke? Luckily the liquid's not going to spill out, but still, the jar will probably have to be replaced. Shoot, what is Wooyoung going to tell--

"What are you doing?!" Nichkhun's voice screams out from behind him.

Wooyoung whips around. Nichkhun's at the door, nearly as white as the walls on either side of him. He's staring at Wooyoung like he's done something terrible.

"I'm sorry," Wooyoung stutters. "I'm sorry, I just saw the door open, and I wanted to know the name of the song," he waves the CD in his hand to show Nichkhun--

"PUT THE CD BACK IN!" Nichkhun yells, marching towards him, eye wild. Wooyoung hurriedly does, alarmed at the urgency and outright fear that is thickening Nichkhun's voice. In his haste, he pushes the CD in a little too forcefully, and the plastic tenses, squeaks, then splits, right down the middle.

Oh, shit.

Wooyoung raises his eyes to meet Nichkhun's in dread. "Sorry, I--" He chokes. Nichkhun's entire face has frozen at the sight of the broken CD, his cheeks stiff with horror, his lips thin and bloodless, his eyes wide, desperate, almost manic -- he looks like he's about to die. Or he looks like he's about to kill Wooyoung. Wooyoung's not sure which. A mix of both, he thinks hysterically.

It occurs to Wooyoung that he's never seen Nichkhun angry before. It's terrifying.

"Get out of here," Nichkhun rasps, yanking Wooyoung's hands away from his boombox and shoving him towards the direction of the door. "Get out, get out, please, get out now."

Wooyoung flees. The door to the white room slams shut behind him.

He's managed to get most of his belongings packed into his duffel bag when Nichkhun knocks and lets himself into Wooyoung's room. His skin shines grey in the dim light. The edges of his hair are damp with sweat. His eyes slowly take in Wooyoung's things, the cell phone clutched in Wooyoung's hand, the jacket half shrugged onto Wooyoung's shoulders, and what must be an amazing deer-in-headlights expression on Wooyoung's face, before he lets out a very long, very weary sigh, and flops face first on Wooyoung's futon.

A few minutes pass during which Wooyoung has never felt so anxious in his life. Nichkhun isn’t saying anything, isn't moving, and Wooyoung thinks he should really make his escape now and save Nichkhun the trouble of kicking him out later. And okay, Wooyoung doesn't really know where's he's planning to go, but he hadn't known where to go when he'd first ran away from home and that had turned out all right. Only not, because he'd come here. And he’d had a few good days before he’d let things fall apart. He'd obviously trespassed into an area he shouldn't have and had broken two things of Nichkhun's that obviously he shouldn't have, and -- and was Nichkhun even breathing anymore?

"Are you dead?" Wooyoung asks, and Nichkhun pushes himself onto his back, then sits up, staring blankly back at Wooyoung.

"No."

"Oh," Wooyoung says. "Right. Um. I'm sorry I broke your CD."

"Yes," Nichkhun says.

"And the jar."

"Yes."

"And I shouldn't have gone into that room without your permission, since this is your shop and everything."

"Yeah."

"Maybe you shouldn't have left that door open."

Nichkhun closes his eyes with what looks like a supreme effort. Wooyoung bites his tongue sharply. Shit. When is he ever going to get the hang of curbing his mouth? He's making things worse. But Nichkhun doesn't say anything in response; he just sits, and Wooyoung feels himself, impossibly, just a bit more frightened.

"I'm really very sorry."

"Okay."

"Can you -- can you maybe say something more than one word answers?"

Nichkhun covers his face with his hands, kneading his eye sockets. "I'm extremely pissed off right now," he manages eventually, when he lowers his hands. His voice is very level.

"I... understand," says Wooyoung, gingerly, testing the words on his lips. "It was an accident, I didn't mean to. It wasn't like I -- I just wanted to know the name of the song, because I remembered it playing the first time we talked. I liked the song."

"That CD was very important to me."

"I... realized that."

"I don't have another copy."

"I'm sorry," Wooyoung says again. He's never seen Nichkhun this expressionless before. To his own mortification, Wooyoung feels tears start to prick at the back of his eyes. He doesn't think apologies will be enough to fix what he's done. The more he thinks about it, the more certain he is of the fact. He screwed up something very badly tonight. "If you want," he offers, "I can help you look for another copy, or get you another jar--"

"There aren't any other copies."

"--or whatever else you might need," Wooyoung finishes.

Nichkhun's eyes are large and unblinking as they track Wooyoung's face, assessing. He asks, "Are you going back home?" with absolutely no inflection.

"I--" Wooyoung hadn't had a destination in mind. "I wasn't," he admits. "I was being impulsive; I thought you'd kick me out."

"I'm thinking about it," Nichkhun says flippantly, and Wooyoung's stomach gives a very nauseous roll, "but I really need that CD back, and you're one of the few people on this planet who have heard that song."

"What are you saying?"

Nichkhun asks, "How well can you sing?”

"I don't even speak English," Wooyoung says morosely, the next morning at breakfast.

"I've written out the phonetics for you in Hangul." Nichkhun slides over a piece of paper, covered with his large, messy handwriting. "I need the song back as soon as possible, so we'll start practising this morning. Is that okay?"

Wooyoung doesn't think that's okay at all, for any number of reasons, the least of which is that a few hours of practise is not going to give the fluent English accent needed for the song. But he's doing this to repay Nichkhun, so he keeps silent.

Last night, Nichkhun had had the idea of remaking a CD to replace the one Wooyoung broke, and had convinced Wooyoung to do the singing, since Nichkhun’s voice was apparently “pretty bad” (his own words, not Wooyoung’s). After Wooyoung had agreed to help, Nichkhun had gone back downstairs and left Wooyoung to a restless, guilt-plagued sleep. He probably slept a cumulative total of three hours, max, but Wooyoung was just so relieved that Nichkhun hadn't kicked him out of the store that it didn't matter. When Wooyoung had woken up and trudged to the kitchen for breakfast this morning, Nichkhun was already there waiting for him, with a sheet of lyrics and an expectant look in his eyes. His hair was a mess and he had dark smudges under his lower eyelashes - it was clear he hadn't slept at all, and Wooyoung had winced as another wave of guilt swept through him. But the impassive, emotionless face Nichkhun had worn last night had been shed, at least, and he had returned to his immaculately-mannered self. That was a boon Wooyoung hadn't been expecting.

The only unnerving thing is that Nichkhun hasn't smiled all morning, but under the circumstances, Wooyoung can't really blame him. Wooyoung is grateful though, preferring this weary Nichkhun much more to the one who'd caught him in the white room; Wooyoung would be happy if he never saw Nichkhun that upset, ever again. Fucking scary.

"How are we recording this, by the way?" Wooyoung asks. "Don't tell me you have recording equipment lying around somewhere in this store?"

"I might," Nichkhun says. "I'll have to look for it though... anyway, you just concentrate on your singing. I'll handle the rest."

He looks away then, lost in thought, giving Wooyoung more opportunity to examine him. The guy really did look awful. Sickly, almost. Wooyoung wonders, not for the first time, what the purpose of that white room was. The jars, the glowing red liquid. Why was that CD so important?

Wooyoung shakes his head. He'd poked his head into enough trouble already. The answer obviously is that the room has something to do with workings of the shop -- and how likely would it be for Nichkhun to reveal the secrets of that? Wooyoung will keep quiet. He thinks he owes Nichkhun this, at least.

Their Saturday morning passes by quickly, with Wooyoung giving his attempts at English phonemes, and trying to remember the lost tune the best he can, with Nichkhun patiently correcting him every step of the way. It's tiresome and irritating, but Wooyoung takes pride in the fact that his own singing voice is indeed much better than Nichkhun's, and Nichkhun seems strangely gratified by it too. Nichkhun closes the shop for the day so they can work together on rebuilding the song, and it's not long before Wooyoung realizes that he's shamelessly enjoying having all of Nichkhun's attention directed on him. Usually, when they spend time together during the day, they're always interrupted every so often by a customer; and the evenings are spent quietly, with Wooyoung doing his homework or studying dance moves or reading, and Nichkhun in his office, tallying up the day's sales. Sometimes they watch TV together, on a dusty television set up in Nichkhun's tiny bedroom, shoulders brushing as they sat beside each other, making fun of the show's plots and characters. This current situation is new, though. They've been roommates for a while, but this is the first time that they've actively worked together on something, and it's... nice. Wooyoung likes it. Wooyoung likes Nichkhun.

He'd feel a lot better if Nichkhun could manage a smile sometime today though.

They're so caught up with trying to piece back the song that they're both startled by the loud knocking that comes from the front door. Nichkhun whips around, eyebrows furrowing. "What on earth," he says, getting up to answer the knock. "We're closed!" he shouts through the door. "I'm sorry!"

"Man, but I came all the way from Daegu!" comes the answer.

Nichkhun puts a hand on the door and goes very still. Wooyoung watches, confused, as he lowers his head and takes several long, deep breaths, tilting his head this way and that. Curiously, when he lifts up his head, he turns around to Wooyoung, wearing a very puzzled look, as if he thought that Wooyoung were the one who brought this person to his doorstep. But then he turns back to the door, straightening his spine; it shifts his posture from one of fatigue to one of determination. Nichkhun unlatches the locks on the door.

"Come in," he says politely, waving the customer inside. "Thanks for coming so far to visit my shop."

"No, no, it's cool. You won't believe the stuff I've heard about this store, dude." A teenager in a red hat comes through the door, grinning at his surroundings. "Guess I've come to the right place. Are you Nichkhun? The shopkeeper?"

"Yes, that's me."

"I'm Kim Junsu," the new guy says. "And I have something I really, really want."

"Good," Nichkhun smiles, and Wooyoung nearly sighs in relief at the sight of it. "Because I think we can help each other."

Junsu's English accent is much better than Wooyoung's. In fact, his singing voice is much better than Wooyoung's. Much, much, much better.

Wooyoung tries not to resent that too much. Junsu had come here, after all, to get help launching his singing career.

"Who recommended my shop to you?" Nichkhun had asked sharply, once Junsu had explained what it was he wanted to accomplish.

"It wasn't like that," Junsu had said. "I was on the internet and saw pictures of Ok Taecyeon coming into your store. People were wondering what it was he wanted here, how he knew you, stuff like that. Taecyeon's pretty well connected, you know? In the industry."

"I know," Nichkhun had nodded. Once again, he'd spared a short glance at Wooyoung, only Wooyoung understood the meaning of this one: don't reveal anything. Those things that Nichkhun had told Wooyoung about his store -- they weren't meant to be public knowledge, that much was apparent. Wooyoung had to stifle a little shiver of delight; it almost felt like he was in a spy thriller, being privy to confidential information that could possibly destroy humankind -- okay, maybe that was going a bit overboard. Still, it was exciting.

His mind had been eager to remind him that even though Wooyoung had bartered his own secrets for Nichkhun's, it had been Nichkhun who'd offered to share first -- he really seemed to care about Wooyoung.

"So, yeah," Junsu had continued, "I thought you'd give my demo tape to him, get him to play it to a few choice people, they like it, call me up, and ba da bing, done."

Nichkhun had rubbed his chin. "What makes you think Taecyeon would listen to anything I asked of him? He doesn't owe me."

Junsu had shrugged. "It was worth a shot. You have no idea how hard I've tried to get my music out there. There's basically nothing else I want in this whole world. I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

And motives like that, Nichkhun could understand.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do," Nichkhun had agreed, shaking Junsu's hand. "An equal transaction: a favour for a favour."

"What--"

"I need you to sing a song for me."

And it's just fucking insane, how things work out like this in Nichkhun's shop. A singer arriving in need of Nichkhun's help, right when Nichkhun needs a singer. What was it that Nichkhun had told him yesterday? Something about trusting the shop to lead him in the right direction. It’s mad, Wooyoung can’t help thinking.

So here they are now, with Nichkhun playing the melody of the lost song on a dirty old keyboard he’d pulled from his bedroom, and Junsu reading the lyrics off Nichkhun's sheet of paper. It’s working well -- already, in the past hour or so, Junsu's done a better job than Wooyoung had done all morning. That’s a bit annoying, actually. Wooyoung is glad that Junsu's talented, but did he really have to be that talented? Now Nichkhun has absolutely no use for Wooyoung at all.

"This is a good song, man," Junsu mentions, accepting the glass of water Nichkhun fetches for him. He shakes the page of lyrics in his hand. "Good lyrics too. Did you write this?"

Nichkhun smiles slightly. "No, a friend of mine wrote it. It's the only thing I have to remember him by."

Junsu's eyes widen briefly, and he tsks. "Hey, sorry to hear that. I'm sure he was a great person."

"Oh!" Nichkhun shakes his head. "He's not dead! No no! He's just... away. I haven't seen him for a long time. Actually... to tell the truth, I came to Korea hoping to fi-- to see him again."

Wooyoung thinks back to the inscription he'd found on the CD, the night before. He's already forgotten the unfamiliar foreign phrase, but he vaguely recalls the first word being Nichkhun's name. Maybe the song was dedicated to him, then. A gift. For some reason, that makes Wooyoung's throat feel tight. The song had been sung by a distinctly male voice, soft and warm, and Wooyoung wonders -- was that guy -- with Nichkhun -- were they --

"Is he the person who wrote that message to you? On the CD?" Wooyoung asks, and Nichkhun turns huge, dark eyes towards him, his expression hard as steel. For a moment, Wooyoung has a flashback of Nichkhun's expression when Wooyoung had broken the CD: there had been so many feelings swirling through Nichkhun's eyes that Wooyoung thought the other man would explode from it.

Wooyoung has read, in his storybooks, about looks of despair, but seeing Nichkhun like that, just like now, it's the first time he has seen that description in real life.

"No," Nichkhun says shortly. "That was his mother." He turns away from Wooyoung to face Junsu. "Let's get back to work now, please."

Wooyoung, curiosity quailed, very quietly leaves the room to go back upstairs. He doesn't think he'll be missed.

He's been reading for a few hours when Nichkhun bursts into his room, practically glowing with relief and pleasure.

"Wooyoung!" he exclaims, plopping down beside Wooyoung on the futon. "Junsu got it! He got the song! We played it straight through once, without any mistakes!"

"I know," Wooyoung croaks, then clears his throat. "I know," he says again. "I heard from up here."

Nichkhun beams. "Isn't this fantastic? Junsu says he's got a recording studio at home, and he can record a good quality CD for us! I'm going to write down the piano music for him. I think this can turn out well! It won't be the same voice, but if the song is the same -- it really might work."

"What will?"

Nichkhun jumps up off the bed. "The CD, I mean. I was so afraid, last night, that I'd never have the song again -- you have no idea, Wooyoung--"

Wooyoung's mouth goes very dry. "Yeah," he whispers. "I could tell that you -- you really loved that song. That guy must have meant a lot to you."

Nichkhun stares, surprised. "Wooyoung--"

"It's true though, isn't it?" Wooyoung says callously, daring Nichkhun to defend himself, but Nichkhun purses his lips, neither affirming nor denying anything. "You said you came all the way to Korea for him. Is he -- was he --" oh God, what is he saying, what is he asking? Wooyoung's brain desperately calls out for his mouth to shut up but it doesn't listen. Why is it that he is so good at keeping his mouth under control when he's minding his own business, but not when he's the slightest bit emotional?

"Wooyoung, Wooyoung," Nichkhun says. In two strides he's come back across the room and has knelt in front of Wooyoung. He puts a hand on either side of Wooyoung's face, covering his ears, his fingertips brushing lightly on the back of Wooyoung's skull. His eyes are so large, Wooyoung thinks. They're a very pretty shade of brown. Wooyoung watches, mind suddenly blanking on him, as Nichkhun's pretty eyes grow in size, until Wooyoung can clearly distinguish every separate eyelash, and -- oh, he's moving closer.

Oh, he's kissing Wooyoung.

The press of lips is very, very gentle; it's not much of anything other than an innocent touch of mouth to mouth -- there's no shared wetness or fierce heat or feelings of drowning passion, which is what all of Wooyoung's novels said kissing would be like. And yet Wooyoung can feel his body thrum with energy, abruptly, heat shooting through his core. It's not a... bad feeling. Wooyoung's eyes flutter shut.

Until his brain finally kicks in again and Wooyoung jerks back in shock. What is Nichkhun doing? Wooyoung isn't gay. And shouldn't Nichkhun ask before going around kissing people, just like that? Where was the courtesy? Oh God, he'd kissed Wooyoung. Wooyoung had gotten kissed by Nichkhun.

He half expects the world to implode, but it doesn’t. Nothing happens at all, actually. The only things Wooyoung are aware of right now is the accelerated rate of his own breathing, and the very calm, very guarded look in Nichkhun's eyes.

"Was that--" he starts, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to catch you like that, I just--"

"No, it's fine," Wooyoung cuts him off. He doesn't want to hear an explanation. It wasn't anything, it couldn't be anything. Nichkhun was just caught up in his happiness about getting his song back, and it kind of manifested in a weird way, that’s all. Nichkhun is just a weird person and Wooyoung knows all about over spilling emotions, so he understands it's okay. It didn't mean anything. Because if it did, if Nichkhun felt like - felt something, and Wooyoung hadn’t hated the kiss, then that would mean --

"Wooyoung," Nichkhun says softly. His hands are still framing Wooyoung's face. The skin of his palms is much rougher than Wooyoung had expected. "I like you, Wooyoung," he says, and Wooyoung forgets how to breathe. "I really like you. I know you're still packed to go home, but... you don't have to go. I want you to stay. I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" And now, Nichkhun only looks anxious, maybe a little longingly, as if he's waiting for Wooyoung's reaction and is expecting the worst.

But hoping for the best.

Seems like all his life, Wooyoung's been assured that his parents love him more than anything else in the word. They always say they mean best, that they don't mean to hurt Wooyoung. Except they do.

Nichkhun might hurt him too, Wooyoung thinks. Nichkhun is powerful in ways Wooyoung doesn't understand, Nichkhun confuses Wooyoung, Nichkhun angry is a nightmare; but Nichkhun had opened his doors to Wooyoung from the very start, trusting Wooyoung, sharing with Wooyoung, taking care of Wooyoung. He hadn't kicked Wooyoung out, last night, and it doesn't seem like he will anytime soon. Wooyoung had broken something very precious to Nichkhun and Nichkhun still likes him. Doesn't want Wooyoung to go away.

This is forgiveness, Wooyoung realizes. This is how to do it.

Wooyoung feels something very deep inside himself surge up and spread through his chest, warming it up, driving upwards and making his ears and face flame -- Nichkhun had kissed him, Wooyoung's first kiss, and it wasn't that bad, it had been nice and safe and warm -- and Nichkhun's hands are stroking the edges of his hair very shallowly, just shy of brushing his neck, and it feels good. Nichkhun feels good.

It takes ages for Wooyoung to dredge up enough courage to respond to Nichkhun's question, but eventually, he does.

"Okay," he whispers. "I know you won't."

Nichkhun spends the rest of the day with Junsu, perfecting the song, so Junsu won't make any mistakes recording it. Junsu stays for dinner and complains about the food, even though he asks for a second serving. Wooyoung had cooked, but his mind kept drifting off to think about Nichkhun and Nichkhun's mouth and Nichkhun's kiss, and sometimes his own conflicted feelings had surged up so strongly that he had wanted to vomit. He'd nearly burnt the rice and had added too much salt in the soup and the meat is a little undercooked, but Nichkhun eats it up eagerly like he's been starving in the desert for years. Even though he's in a much better mood, he still has smears of dark colour under his eyes, and his skin is an off-putting shade of pale. Wooyoung worries, then berates himself for staring at Nichkhun too much. He's still not quite sure what to do now, since he knows Nichkhun feels like that. Should he still stay in the store? Because if Wooyoung's not sure how he feels in return, would that be like taking advantage of Nichkhun? And what about the deal he was supposed to make with Nichkhun? Is that still possible? That evening, Wooyoung goes off to dance practise with a huge headache, knots in his stomach, and a deep desire to just go to sleep and never wake up. Underneath all that though, there is a very small part of him that is still singing from Nichkhun's earlier kiss. Throughout practise, Wooyoung catches himself pressing his fingertips to his lips more times than is strictly sane.

Jaebeom isn't here today and it makes Junho irritable. Since Jaebeom's started training them, the three of them have improved leagues beyond the other young dancers they practised with, Junho most of all. Today he'd come with the exciting news that because of the scandal in Seattle, his brother had arranged for a last minute talent search in Seoul to open for his show in Seattle The competition is scheduled to happen in a little more than a week. It turns out that while the contract for the previous dance crew could not be revoked, Rain had managed to convince his concert managers to extend the opening show by ten minutes, enough for a second act. If he couldn't show his disapproval of the dance crew’s sudden amnesia about their best member by voiding their performance, then at least he could share their spotlight.

"We should enter," Chansung had said, eyes comically wide.

"Yes we should," Junho had agreed grimly.

Wooyoung had nodded fervently. He'd looked forward to Jaebeom arriving, so they could pressure him into entering as well. He thinks Jaebeom would have fun there. Wooyoung had noticed, as he'd spent more time with Jaebeom, that the other boy was ridiculously hesitant in doing activities with them other than dancing. At first, Wooyoung had thought Jaebeom had just been shy, but he'd gradually realized that Jaebeom was just completely uncomfortable with Korea. But he never talked to them about it. Maybe he didn't like being reminded of his life in the States because it made him feel too homesick.

"Will your -- your brother won't mind, will he?" Chansung had asked. "You entering?"

"Why would he?" Junho had replied waspishly. "I have a right, just like anyone else."

"I just thought that, I dunno," Chansung shrugged, awkward, "you're always mad when people mistake you for your brother. Isn't this, like... making it worse?"

Junho had sighed very deeply. "I'm starting to realize that it can't be helped. Can't fight against family, after all. You're stuck with what you've got."

And that had just sent Wooyoung through another mad torrent of thoughts. Family, obligations, hopes, goals, desires, Nichkhun. Everything always seems to end at Nichkhun.

Wait.

The sudden idea strikes him with all the force of a hammer to the head: Wooyoung could wish for something to solve his -- his problem at home. Make his father more lenient, more understanding; make his parents love each other again; make their shop flourish with sales; make his grandmother healthy -- Wooyoung could do it. Or, rather, Nichkhun could do it. Wooyoung could tell Nichkhun that he wanted this, and Nichkhun could make it happen. Anything and everything, that's what he had said, right?

But why limit himself to that? Wooyoung could wish for fame too, like Ok Taecyeon had. Wooyoung could wish for all of them, him and Junho and Chansung and even Jaebeom, to become famous, to live their dream for the rest of their lives. Wooyoung could wish for anything. Happiness, just a few words away. And Wooyoung knows that Nichkhun would help him, because Nichkhun has helped Wooyoung with everything so far, and Nichkhun likes Wooyoung. He'd said he wouldn't hurt Wooyoung.

He hadn't considered all the possibilities when Nichkhun had first revealed the truth of what his shop could do, but the immensity of just what Dreamhouse can accomplish is unexpectedly overwhelming. Wooyoung could fix everything. Make everything better. Create his own happy ending.

Yes, Wooyoung thinks, picturing himself in future: smiling, strong, making his parents proud. Yes, this is what Wooyoung wants.

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