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

[dashboarding]

five

Taecyeon doesn't stay too long, slave to his busy schedule as always, but leaves amidst promises to give Junsu's demo CD to a few of his producer friends. For a second, Junsu looks so thankful that he might break down crying. They agree to have another meeting next week, after Rain's talent competition, where Taecyeon had been planning to drop by. As soon as Taecyeon drives away, Nichkhun opens shop again, explaining hastily that he needed the revenue. Junsu seemed to accept this, but Wooyoung understands Nichkhun's real intentions: more customers mean more word-of-mouth about his shop, which will hopefully lead his friend back to his doorstep.

"Nichkhun told me you were planning to enter the talent search," Junsu says to Wooyoung, the two of them sitting on the staircase, absently watching Nichkhun attend to a rare Sunday shopper.

"Yeah," Wooyoung says. "You could too."

"Nah," Junsu waves his hand. "I can't dance for shit. And now that I've got Taecyeon helping me out, hopefully my career’ll get the boost it needs. I've wondered, man: you knew Nichkhun was friends with a superstar -- why didn't you think of asking him for a favour, like I did?"

Wooyoung has to consider that. The simple truth is that Wooyoung hadn't thought of it. He'd been hanging around Junho for so long, with his "let's not take advantage of fame that does not belong to us" mentality, that it hadn't occurred to Wooyoung to ask for Taecyeon's help to get exposure for his dancing.

But now that Wooyoung knows what he knows, he's not sure he wants to ask Nichkhun for anything, anymore. The Wooyoung who had been so eager to wish for Nichkhun to make him famous seems like a different person. Had it really only been a few days ago, when he was seriously considering on making a deal with Nichkhun that would change the rest of his life?

Except... Wooyoung still wants to be famous for his dancing. He still wants a better family life. He still wants a lot of things. But the difference now is that he is not willing to get these things through Nichkhun's shop. It would be easier and faster, probably, but for such a large return, what would Wooyoung have to give up? Nichkhun said that he might not have taken Wooyoung's heart, but heart or not, the price would still have been high.

How would Wooyoung have planned to live the rest of his life, knowing that he'd purchased his future?

"Do you think it's worth it?" Wooyoung asks Junsu. "Taking a shortcut."

Junsu steeples his fingers, leaning forward on his knees. "Actually. I've thought a lot about this, you know? Before I came here, to get Nichkhun's help -- I thought about this. If it was a good thing to do. Well, first of all, I had no guarantee that things would work out, so I was thinking, what the hell, might as well try, right? But then I started thinking, is this kind of like cheating, in a way? To get what I want?"

"Yeah, that's what I mean."

Junsu shakes his head. "I don't know, man. I mean, it's not like I haven't been working hard. I've tried pretty much everything I could to get my name out there. And all these older people I've talked to, they just tell me to keep on trying, you know? Takes time, they all said. But I'm an impatient kind of guy. I know I've got the talent, so why was it costing me so much time and effort? And here, with this favour, it's not like I'm forcing anyone to take me on as an artist, right? I just want people to take a listen of my music. That's all. No harm in that, that’s my opinion."

"Guess so," Wooyoung mutters. He wonders, if Junsu knew what Nichkhun was capable of doing, would Junsu be willing to give up his heart?

Junsu leaves at noon in order to catch his bus back home. Nichkhun even gives him a short hug, to thank him for his help. Junsu looks surprised, but appreciative, and the door bells jingle merrily as he lets himself out.

As soon as he's gone, Wooyoung asks, "Why didn't you offer to help him?"

"I thought I already did that," says Nichkhun mildly.

"You know what I mean. Make him an offer, or something? Like Taecyeon."

Nichkhun laughs once. "I don't make a habit of making those kinds of deals with just anybody, you know. It takes me a while to make sure they're a good candidate for it. It's--" he stops. "Never mind. It has to do with how the shop works," he explains, mouth curling wryly. "It'd take me years to explain it all."

Okay. Wooyoung can accept that. "Do you think Junsu would have said yes?"

"I don't know. I don't think so, though. His situation is different from Taec's. Junsu writes his own music. He wants to get known for his music and his voice. And I don't think he'd be able to write good music, without his heart. So I don't think he'd be willing to make the exchange and sacrifice his emotions and stuff -- it'd be worth too much to him."

Wooyoung blinks at him. "You've thought a lot about this, hyung."

Nichkhun grins. "Well. That's my job."

Spurred on by Nichkhun's genuine happiness, Wooyoung feels bold. "I could help you look for him," he says. "Your friend."

"Oh. Oh! You could," Nichkhun agrees, eyes widening.

"What does he look like?"

Nichkhun becomes flustered. "He's, um, short. Black hair. No glasses. Um, pale skin. Like yours. Pointy eyes like this," he tugs on the corners of his own eyes, but the effect doesn't work very well. "Looks like he's from Seattle? He's got arms like this," Nichkhun bends his elbows a bit and pulls in his shoulders.

"...right."

"I'm not good at describing people!" Nichkhun protests.

"So really, he just looks like any other Korean person, is what you're saying," Wooyoung mutters, annoyed. This wasn't going to be easy at all.

"Well, he's Korean! Why do you think he asked to come here?" Nichkhun's voice gentles. "I think he wanted to be as far away from his family as possible, but still be connected to them, somehow."

"What's his name?"

"Jay P--"

The door jangles open.

"Wooyoung."

Wooyoung turns. Freezes. Stares at a very familiar face and tries to keep from fleeing on the spot.

"Dad," Wooyoung breathes.

"So," his father says carefully, glancing left and right, taking in Nichkhun's eclectic store with not much more than a cursory boredom. "This is where you've been spending your time." His tight smile can't quite cover the disdain in his voice. He's not happy, Wooyoung thinks. He's not happy having to come drag his wayward son back home. "Good choice. I didn't think to look here."

Wooyoung is sure that he meant to say something sharp back as a retort, but he finds that his brain has deserted him, leaving him helpless in a wave of full-fledged panic. How had his dad found him?

The bells above the front door jingle again, loudly, and two more people barrel inside. Oh, no, Wooyoung thinks. This can't be happening. This cannot be happening to him.

"Wooyoung!" Chansung says. "You're here!"

Junho elbows him out of the way. "Wooyoung, you haven't been picking up your phone. We wanted to discuss the competition next weekend, so we went to your house. Your dad said you haven't been home in weeks."

"I haven't," Wooyoung mumbles, edging backwards. "I've been here." Shit, his phone is still probably sitting on Nichkhun's desk, since Nichkhun had borrowed it that morning. And now Wooyoung is caught. Completely caught. Fuck.

"You--" Junho goes red. "Why didn't you tell us, Wooyoung! Your dad had no idea where you were and he told us that you ran away from home, of all things! And when I asked why you were working in this shop, he said that he didn't know anything about it!"

"Junho," Chansung whispers loudly, tugging on Junho's arm. He points to Wooyoung's dad. Junho eyes widen and he snaps his mouth shut.

"Oh, sorry sir," Junho says, bowing stiffly. "I didn't see you. I apologize for yelling at your son."

"It's fine," Wooyoung's father says. "I should thank you, Junho, for telling me about this place. Wooyoung, you should take a lesson from Junho's honesty and respect for elders."

"Excuse me," Nichkhun interrupts, subtly moving to stand beside Wooyoung, "I'm the shopkeeper here; is there something that you needed, sir? Wooyoung's been helping me manage my shop, and technically he's still on work hours."

"I'd hope it was obvious what I came here for," his father barks. He turns to Wooyoung. "Wooyoung, I've had enough of your games. It's time you came home."

"I don't think--" Nichkhun starts, taking a step forward.

"I beg your pardon, but I think I know what is best for my son."

"I didn't mean to imply that--"

"Just how long were you planning to keep him from his family?"

"I definitely was not--"

"Never mind," his father snaps, ignoring Nichkhun. "Wooyoung. Hurry up."

Wooyoung doesn't move. Junho and Chansung's gaze flitted in between the three of them, Junho confused, Chansung scared, neither sure of what to do.

"Wooyoung!" Angrier, now. "This instant."

"I don't -- my stuff--" Wooyoung stutters.

His father nods. "Go get it sorted, then. I'll wait."

Numbly, Wooyoung feels himself walk away and ascend the staircase to the room that has housed him for the past three weeks. He bends to pull his folded duffel bag out from under his futon, and opens it perfunctorily; on autopilot he crosses the floor to the bookshelf and neatly starts packing his clothes.

"Wooyoung, you don't have to do this." Nichkhun's mild voice slices through Wooyoung's silence, not entirely unexpected.

Wooyoung shrugs, grabbing his school uniform and adding it in his bag.

"I understand that you might feel some moral obligation to listen to your father, but you should think of yourself. If your home isn't a safe environment, then you're more than welcome to keep on staying here."

Clothes, textbooks, wallet -- oh, his toothbrush. Quickly, he heads to the washroom down the hall; his shoulder brushes Nichkhun's as he passes.

Nichkhun reaches out and grabs his wrist. "Wooyoung," he says, pleading.

"It's too late!" Wooyoung shouts, throwing off Nichkhun's hand. Nichkhun flinches. And from that, the severity of the situation comes crashing down on Wooyoung like a ton of bricks. His throat closes up, choking him and robbing him of breath. It’s over: his father is here to bring him home. Wooyoung has to leave Nichkhun's shop. Go back to his old life. Go back to that stifling environment, which will be a million times worse now, since Wooyoung had already proven himself willing to defy his father's authority to such an extent -- he can only imagine how long he's going to be grounded as penalty for this stunt.

"I knew that I'd have to go home eventually," Wooyoung says, unwilling to meet Nichkhun's eyes and the hurt he knows he will see there. "I knew, and it wasn't like I had been planning to stay away for very long, even at the beginning. I just wanted to... take a break, for a while. Think about things." He resignedly rubs his cheeks. "I didn't really think of any solutions, though, while I was here. When I first came, I'd decided to go home once I figured out what I wanted to say to my father, but afterwards, I just kept on putting it off. It -- I liked it here." He takes a deep, steadying breath, and plunges on. "I liked the way you treated me. I got to go dancing whenever I wanted. And you trusted me. So. It was good. But I have to go back, it was bound to happen eventually, and I knew it, so it's -- it's okay. It might as well be now, since my dad's already here. My dad -- he's got a temper."

When he finally looks up at Nichkhun, the other boy's face looks pinched and discouraged. And worried, still. Wooyoung swallows. He tries for a smile, but he can't quite make it.

"You were frustrated with your dad, before," Nichkhun says. "What changed?"

Wooyoung thinks of Jaebeom, thousands of kilometres from home and unable to go back. Wooyoung thinks of Junho, trying his best to be recognized for his own talent while still respecting his brother's. And he thinks of Nichkhun, who's been alone in this shop for so long, but has photos of his family hanging from every available wall. Nichkhun, who, like Wooyoung, had something broken by someone he cares about, but had forgiven him regardless.

"I don't know. Just... it'd be better to forgive him,” Wooyoung says, voice cracking. "While I'm here, I'm just avoiding my old life. Sometimes it really did feel like another world. But I -- I can't stay here forever. Plus, it’s like... can't fight against family, right?"

"You can," Nichkhun says. "You can, Wooyoung, if you want." He grabs Wooyoung, fingers gripping tightly around his shoulders. "Wooyoung, I can make it happen." There’s no question of what he’s referring to.

And it's so tempting, so tempting, to say yes. Wooyoung knows that Nichkhun could do it. He could stay away from his father forever, maybe put his father under some kind of spell, maybe alter his memories. Wooyoung can do any number of things - none under his own power.

"What would happen?" he asks, words brittle on his own tongue. "Would you erase my existence too, like you did to your friend? Make my father forget he had a son? What would happen to Junho and Chansung? They'd forget too, wouldn't they." The last sentence isn't even a question.

"You wouldn't get hurt again, at least," Nichkhun presses.

Wooyoung frowns. "But would I be happy, knowing what I'd done? Can you promise me that I'll be glad living on my own for the rest of my life?"

"...no," Nichkhun admits. "I can't."

Wooyoung shakes his head and reaches up, covering Nichkhun's hands with his own. "It's okay. Wishing for something like that... it's not a real solution. And for something as stupid as my own fear of my dad... even I'm not that selfish."

"What if he tells you you can't dance again?"

There wasn't really an 'if' about it; that's definitely what his father will do. "Then I'll just have to work hard at convincing him to change his mind," he says.

Nichkhun's hands slowly drop from his shoulders, warmth lingering behind, the imprint his fingertips branded on Wooyoung's skin. His expression reveals that he doesn’t want Wooyoung to go.

"Look," Wooyoung sighs. "I'll be fine. My family loves me, even if they sometimes show it badly. I don't know what might have happened if I hadn't run away from home that night, but I owe it to my mother and grandma to go back and try to patch things up. I think that if... I could come to some sort of understanding with my dad, then anything else that might happen... will be worth it. If I really want to be happy at home, then I should try on my own to get that." A smile edges its way to his lips. "Isn't it you who told me there were good and bad aspects to everything, it's just a matter of finding a balance? Of what we're willing to give up to get what we want?"

Nichkhun stares at him for a very long, long moment. Wooyoung tries not to squirm or glare back. Then, Nichkhun swoops down and presses a quick kiss to Wooyoung's cheek. Wooyoung blinks as he pulls away slightly.

"You're a good person, Wooyoung. You should know that I've been very honoured to have you stay in my shop, the past few weeks. You've... helped me a lot."

"And did a lot of damage too," Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

"Yes, that too," Nichkhun agrees, his tone soft, and slowly, he raises a hand to lay it on his own chest, right above his heart.

The boy wandered the forest for what felt like days, and sometimes he found himself thinking about the sorcerer. The boy was upset that he had been tricked, but he soon reconciled himself with the fact that the sorcerer hadn't hurt the boy on purpose. Perhaps it was partly the boy's fault too, so desperate was he to be whisked away to somewhere better than his home that he was willing to be tricked by a stranger. The sorcerer had truly only given the boy what he had wanted, after all. And the boy had learned a lot from the sorcerer -- he knew more about the balance of the world now, and the importance of everything in nature, so that even this eerie, dark forest was not as scary to him as it once was. Under the perpetual moonlight, the wood could, at times, look beautiful. A different kind of beauty than what the boy was used to, but still lovely and interesting in its own way.

And the boy thought, even though the sorcerer’s kingdom had been but an illusion, perhaps there was a little magic in this world too.

When he finally emerged from the forest, he found himself back in his small village, and his parents were there, at the edge of the grass, searching for him. Approaching his father, the boy was surprised that he no longer felt any anger towards the man, but instead a muted, acquiescent understanding.

So it was that the boy returned home, and when he was finally in the arms of his grandmother, his grandmother looked him over with a critical eye and said, You have grown, boy.

And the boy said, Yes, perhaps I have.

The boy went back to his normal day to day. He still danced and he still worked dauntlessly for his father's approval, but he felt more confident about himself now, and happier with his life. For the boy, imparted with the sorcerer’s knowledge, could easily recognize his own blessings and gifts, and was glad for them, and knew that he would be able to achieve his dreams as long as he worked for them.

And even though this was not a happily ever after, the boy knew that there was still time for him to get there, by following his own path. So every night, the boy wished that he had thanked the sorcerer for the help the young man had given him.

The moral of this story, the boy thought, was that his life was not a fairy tale at all, and this was the way things should be.

Wooyoung flops back onto his own bed with a heavy groan. He feels like passing out and never waking up. He rubs at his temples, trying to nurse the headache that's been plaguing him for the entire afternoon.

As expected, there wasn't much of a hero's welcome waiting for him back at home. His father had flipped their shop's OPEN sign to CLOSED, marched Wooyoung to the kitchen, forced him to sit down at the table, and proceeded to highlight every single character defect he believed Wooyoung to possess, including multiple counts of disrespect, foolishness, and illusions of grandeur. His mother and grandmother had sat on his either side, his mother glancing at him every time his father yelled something particularly cutting, but Wooyoung felt he’d held up quite well, considering. He kept his face straight, had apologized when necessary (and he surprised himself by actually feeling genuine some of the time), and hadn't made the situation worse by arguing back. As his father's tirade began to wind down (evidenced by his longer pauses and the less feral look in his eyes), Wooyoung had felt his grandmother's cool, wrinkled hand reach under the table to squeeze his, briefly. That had helped. She, at least, was proud of how he was handling himself.

He'd agreed to be grounded until further notice, no television, no internet and limited time with his cell phone. Heavy chore load for the next month. A five-page essay about what exactly he'd done wrong and why he was remorseful. And absolutely, positively, under all circumstances, no dancing.

It had been hard, but Wooyoung had even agreed to this. If Nichkhun had taught him anything, it was to evaluate the value of every situation. And it wasn't worth it to cross his father right now. He'd stomped down on his usual feelings of indignation, on his pride, on his anger, and had just sat, mouth in a tight line, waiting for his father to finish doling out his punishment.

And in the end, as his father ran out of steam, something had happened which Wooyoung had not expected.

His father's entire form had slumped, as he'd leant on a counter, back to the table. In a very rigid voice, he'd said, "I apologize for overreacting the way I did, that day. Trust me when I say that it will never happen again."

Wooyoung had heard his mother apologize for his father's behaviour before, too many times to count, but he'd never heard the same words out of his father's own mouth. He'd been so dumbfounded he was rendered speechless.

"Wooyoung," his mother had said softly, when it was obvious that Wooyoung had no idea how to respond to his father's admission, "you must be tired. Go to your room and take a nap. We've cleaned it up for you, and purchased you a new CD player, but I'm afraid you'll have to start your CD collection from scratch again."

She stood up as Wooyoung did, and caught him in her arms, holding him tightly for what felt like a very long time.

Strangely, it had been this gesture that had nearly broken him. He realized suddenly how difficult it must have been for his mother, keeping silent all these days, defending his absence to his father, worrying for him and yet giving him space -- Wooyoung had hugged her back as hard as he could, and when he muttered a quick, "Sorry, Mom," into her ear, she'd let out a sound that could have been a sob. When she'd pulled back, she patted his chest, smoothing his shirt around his shoulders, eyes shining all the while.

"Go up," she'd said, stroking his cheek. "I'll call you down for dinner."

So Wooyoung had taken one last look at his father's back (had it always been so frail and thin?) and his blunt fingers gripping tightly on the countertop, had managed a quick smile for his grandmother, and had bolted upstairs, duffel bag slapping heavily against his hip. And now... it was over.

Wooyoung glances around his room again. It feels not-quite-right, to be back here. His new stereo sits gleaming on his desk, an indisputable reminder of what had happened the last time Wooyoung had seen this room. But true to his mother's word, it's cleaned up in exactly the way he likes it, just with a huge lack of his stuff. His bookshelf looks eerily empty. Without his CDs, Wooyoung considers taking up shelf space with his romantic novels, until he abruptly remembers that he'd left them all at Nichkhun's shop.

"Here," he'd said, pushing the stack of them into Nichkhun's hands. "You have plenty of old books around here, right? You can add these in the box in the back room. I labelled it 'books in poor condition.' Even you can read that."

"These are yours," Nichkhun had protested. "I can't take them--"

"I don't really need them. You'll probably find some perfect customer for them, as soon as I leave."

Nichkhun had laughed. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Or you can just unload them on Chansung. He's convinced that this shop is magical, so he'll probably start looking for hidden meanings in the text or something."

"Do you think so?"

"That Chansung's stupid?"

Another laugh. "That this shop is magical."

"Huh," Wooyoung had said, more than a little entranced by the affectionate look in Nichkhun's eyes. "I think it's a nice place to stay," he managed at last. "Good environment. Interesting company. And a nice habit of having anything and everything a person might need. Except for food."

"It doesn't keep," Nichkhun said, grinning broadly.

"If you find yourself starving sometime in the near future," Wooyoung had commented blithely, "you should give a shopping list to Junho or Chansung. If you like gum and chips and stuff, I can probably manage a discount for you, at our store. We're just down the street, anyway."

For a split second, Wooyoung had wondered if he'd given himself away and revealed too much of what he hadn't planned on saying -- I'm still here, I'm not going away, we'll still see each other sometimes, thank you for all your help, you've opened my eyes, you are the most magical thing in this shop -- but Nichkhun's smile merely widened, and he'd offered his hand.

His palm had been warm and strong under Wooyoung's, and now, thinking back, Wooyoung wonders if he had been imagining it, or if he'd really been feeling two sets of matching heartbeats, strumming quick and alive, underneath their touching skin.

"Ughhhhh," Chansung moans, dropping his head onto his desk. "You just gave in, just like that? You're such an idiot, Wooyoung."

"He's right, Wooyoung," Junho says. "You're missing out on a huge opportunity, giving up your dancing like that. The talent competition is this weekend, and participating in that would have given you a lot of good exposure."

"You won't even be there to see us blow everyone's socks off!"

"There'll be other chances," Wooyoung says, sounding a lot more confident than he feels.

Chansung takes both Wooyoung's hands in his. "Wooyoung, I promise I won't forget you when I become rich and famous. You can come visit my mansion anytime. I'll introduce you to the hot idol girls I know."

"Ah, so the real reason you want to win the competition comes to light," Junho mutters.

"What! So you're a gentleman now? You were the one who wanted to do all that research."

Junho flushes deeply. "I was not," he grits out.

"Then give me my magazines back," Chansung says. "That is, if you're done with them," he adds, leering. If possible, Junho goes even redder.

"Anyway," he says, hastily turning back to Wooyoung. "I'm sure if you wanted, you could think of some way to practise. It's not like being grounded is anything new to you."

This is true, loathe as Wooyoung is to admit it, but this time his dad has pulled out all the stops. Wooyoung gets driven to and from school, and is expected to be at home for the rest of the day, no exceptions. His father, with his new evening job as a construction worker, comes home every night immediately after work to check up on Wooyoung. Wooyoung hates it, hates being treated like an unruly child, but even he notices the obvious benefit of the set-up: his father has stopped going to bars and coming home drunk. Yesterday, he even returned with a small box of store-bought pastries to share with the family. It was awkward, sitting at the table, attempting to make stilted conversation, but Wooyoung appreciates that his father is trying. Unfortunately, any attempts to breach the subject of Wooyoung dancing have so far been met with a swift and merciless demise. It's infuriating, to say the least, and sometimes it's all Wooyoung can do to keep his mouth shut. These days, he's starting to get twitchy just at the thought of dancing. If this keeps up, Wooyoung will be forced to give up his lunch hour, just to get a short bit of practise into his week.

"What do you think I can do?" Wooyoung asks. "I'm either at home or at school. And I can't start dancing in the middle of class, can I?"

"Yes you can," Chansung says, grinning.

"Just practise at home then," Junho says, ignoring him. "I know it'll be a bit cramped, but it's better than nothing."

"I don't have music. My dad -- I mean, all of my CDs are gone. And our computer speakers are too quiet."

"I'll lend you some CDs tomorrow then," Junho offers. "I'm sure you'll be able to find a song you like."

Chansung nods enthusiastically. "Me too! I have better taste than Junho, too."

"Oh," Wooyoung blinks. "Okay, thanks."

Not for the first time, Wooyoung cannot believe how lucky he is to have friends like Chansung and Junho. They'd forgiven him so easily after Wooyoung had explained what had happened since that first day he'd skipped school, and even though Wooyoung knew that they could tell he was still keeping some things to himself (namely, the secret white room in Nichkhun's shop), they hadn't pushed. And when Wooyoung had clumsily admitted that his family situation wasn't always the best, they had not pressed for details there, either. Chansung had wrapped him up in a huge hug and Junho had clapped him strongly on the shoulder, his face sombre. If they had felt sorry for him, they hadn't said it explicitly, and for that, Wooyoung was very grateful.

"Do you think Nichkhun could help, somehow?" Junho asks, jolting Wooyoung back to reality.

"What do you mean," he says slowly, quite affronted to feel his own ears heating up. Traitorous body, curses Wooyoung.

Junho gives him an exasperated look. "What do you think I meant? Maybe he can talk to your parents or something. He's not much of an adult in terms of age, but he seems pretty mature to me."

"My dad thinks his shop some kind of a joke shop; he's not going to take him seriously." Never mind the fact that since he'd found out Nichkhun had been "furtively harbouring" Wooyoung for all that time, his father had formed some kind of belligerent grudge towards the shopkeeper. Wooyoung can’t even mention Nichkhun's name without some kind of sneer appearing on his father's face. The man seemed to take it as a personal insult that Nichkhun had not contacted him right away, when Wooyoung had first found himself in Dreamhouse. "Irresponsible, dangerous, self-centered boy -- what gave him the impression that he could take care of your safety is beyond me," his father snarled once. "Where in the world are his parents?" Wooyoung has since stopped talking about Nichkhun within earshot of his dad.

Rides homes are difficult, because they always pass Nichkhun's shop, sitting innocuously on the corner of the street, just as it always has. Wooyoung can't catch more than a quick glimpse of Nichkhun's orange apron through the shop window before they're whipping by. Even though it's only been a few days since Wooyoung had last seen him, Wooyoung can't help wondering if Nichkhun is managing to keep his shop clean. Is he eating well, or is he stuck making his shit soup again? Is he getting a lot of customers? Maybe more pretty girls? (This thought always leaves Wooyoung's stomach feeling taut, so he doesn't entertain it for long.) He wonders if Nichkhun is making any progress finding his friend. Once Nichkhun finds him -- will there be some sort of sign, or reaction, from the store? Wooyoung pictures the whole building lighting up in a red glow from the mysterious heart-jars, or maybe some kind of strobe light flashing emerging from the white room, or maybe... fireworks?

Imagining increasingly elaborate scenarios for an end that might not even happen is a bit of a frivolous activity, even by the standards of Wooyoung's overactive mind, but it's a nice distraction and keeps him from panicking too much as he drives by Nichkhun's shop daily. It can't just be his imagination that makes the shop look more flimsy and dilapidated, every time Wooyoung passes. Something bad is happening to the store.

Since going home, Wooyoung has had more than one nightmare featuring jars cracking, hearts dying, their light dimming, pulses fading, the shop crumbling all around him, shelves and stock falling into nothing but dust on the ground. Wooyoung dreams about Nichkhun disappearing into a void of darkness, about his kind smile melting off his face, his fingers falling off his hand, digit by digit, as his soft voice blames Wooyoung for leaving him to be alone, again. Wooyoung doesn't share these dreams with anyone. He always wakes up from them in a terrified sweat, and if his family notices the dark bags under his eyes in the morning, no one mentions it.

"Do you miss him? Nichkhun, I mean?" Chansung asks, voice kept purposefully light. He hasn't made fun of Wooyoung and Nichkhun at all, lately.

"It's not like I never see him," Wooyoung says, folding his paper bag from lunch into a neat rectangle.

"That's not an answer."

More dreams that Wooyoung doesn't tell anyone about: Wooyoung, back in Nichkhun's shop, back in his temporary room, back on his futon, and then his back on the futon, with Nichkhun leaning into him, then over him, and his lips touching Wooyoung's. His hands cradling Wooyoung's head, gently, carefully, the tips of his fingers brushing Wooyoung's bare neck, making him shiver. Nichkhun's mouth, with their soft lips that Wooyoung has seen curving in a smile, letting out a laugh, dipping into a frown, licked quickly by a pink tongue -- Wooyoung dreams about Nichkhun's mouth pressing against his own, then to his chin, then his chest, then lower, and lower...

Wooyoung also wakes up from these dreams in a terrified sweat, but it's a different kind of terror.

"Sometimes I do," Wooyoung admits, voice low, and Chansung seems to be satisfied with that.

"Wooyoung," his mother says, as he gets out of the car that afternoon. "Go to your room, if you please."

Wooyoung's body tenses. "Why?" What has he done? He's been good, he's been perfect lately. His father couldn't have overheard him talking about CDs to Chansung and Junho today at school, right? That was impossible.

"There's a surprise waiting for you," she says, and Wooyoung relaxes. She smiles encouragingly. "I hope you'll use it well."

He expects a set of encyclopaedias. Not a huge, full-length mirror that takes up nearly the span of his entire wall.

"You can fold it in half and slide it in your closet, after using it," his grandmother says, coming into the room. "Now you can practise at home, before your father comes home."

"This is..." Wooyoung says, and has to take a deep breath to keep from squeaking. He stares at himself in the mirror, and notes his own expression of shock. He sees his own smile form, incredulous and uncontainable. “Thank you.”

"Ah, and something else," his grandmother says, holding out a CD case. "I went to see your friend Nichkhun today." Wooyoung snaps back to attention.

"What? He--"

"I wanted to thank him for taking care of you when we couldn't," she continues. "He was very kind. Very sympathetic. I would think that he cares a lot for you, Wooyoung." Wooyoung swallows, not trusting himself to speak. His grandmother shares with him a small smile, and says, "He gave me this and told me that you'd understand. He told me to wish you good luck."

With trembling fingers, Wooyoung takes the gift and opens up the case. There's a folded up piece of paper inside, and a square post-it stuck to it: a message written by Nichkhun's hand.

A copy for you!, the note reads, This is payment for your books!! Now we are even! : ) If you shuld decide to enter the talint competishun, I feel as if you will do very well. In fact! I know it!! keke. Good luck Wooyoungie. I hope all your dreams come true.

Yours, Nichkhun Horvejkul

Wooyoung puts the CD into his new stereo, but he knows what the song will be before he even presses play. He closes his eyes as the familiar strains of melody and Junsu's rich voice fills the room. Wooyoung rereads the note, as if he can pull out some of Nichkhun's warmth just from his words alone. He unfolds the other piece of paper; it's the sheet of lyrics, written in English with Hangul pronunciations underneath.

If you should decide to enter the talent competition...

Wooyoung's breath catches in his throat.

Even now, Nichkhun can still read what Wooyoung wants.

The week passes by much more quickly than Wooyoung anticipates. Every second Wooyoung is at home without his father's supervision, he has to make count. He's listened to Nichkhun's song so many times now that he knows it by heart, English lyrics and all -- even if their meaning is still fully clear to him. He practises enough moves that he's able to dance through the whole three-minute song five times in a row. He pulls up every single skill and trick he's learned over the years and takes note of every step he takes, every pull of his arms; he tries to sync his breathing to the beats of the song, so he can time his best moves to be perfectly in tune with the melody. Lunchtime at school is spent with Junho and Chansung, gobbling down their food and then spending the rest of the hour helping each other get better with their dance. It's from them that Wooyoung learns that Jaebeom hasn't been showing up to practise at the community centre.

"Do you guys think he's really sick?" Chansung asks worriedly.

"He really looked it the last time I saw him," Wooyoung says. “But he said he'd be there, at the competition, to watch us."

"Hm," Junho grunts.

Wooyoung knows all three of them feel the same way: Jaebeom has taught them a lot, and they owe him. They want to do well for him.

"Why doesn't that guy have a cell phone or anything!" Chansung yells in frustration, kicking the air.

"Doesn't seem to have a lot of money, does he?" Junho says, sighing. "Living on his own must be difficult."

"Well, he'd better come this weekend, that’s all I’m saying."

"I feel kind of bad for him, though. He's obviously very talented; he should be entering this competition with us."

"Maybe it's good that he won't then," Chansung teases. "What if he ended up winning, instead of one of us?"

"Then he'd deserve it," Junho shoots back. "My brother can't be accused of being biased towards me or my friends."

"Wooyoung, hey, do you know if Nichkhun is going to be coming?"

The question surprises him and he experiences a knee-jerk panic. "I'm not his mother! Why would I know something like that?"

Chansung holds up his hands. "Chill out, I was just asking. I just thought you'd know. Did you even invite him?"

"I--" Of course the answer is no; no, because Nichkhun can't leave his shop. "I didn't think to," he says, which is the most honest he can be for Junho and Chansung.

"Wooyoung," Junho tsks. "Have you even thought of how you're going to make it downtown this weekend? Are your parents going to give you permission to leave your house?"

The answer is again, of course not. But after his mother had seen a commercial for Rain's talent search during one of her shows, she'd approached him about it. He'd admitted that he had been planning on entering, but not anymore. And once again, she'd surprised him with an idea: if his grandmother was willing to distract his father for the afternoon, she would drive Wooyoung to the arena downtown, where the competition was to be held. The only catch was that she would not be able to stay to watch his audition, because someone had to be home to mind the shop. But Wooyoung had just been so ecstatic that he'd simply be able to participate, that his mother was willing to help him do that.

He'd asked her why she was encouraging his disobedience against his father.

She had smiled at him. "Your father gets so upset about you dancing, that he has difficulty actually seeing you dance. I've seen you, Wooyoung. I see how much you love it." And Wooyoung had thought that maybe, she had sounded just a little proud of him.

"Don't worry about me," Wooyoung says to Junho firmly. "I'll be there."

Driving home past Dreamhouse that day, Wooyoung squints through the car window and tries to glimpse as much of the shop's interior as he can. The windows are now so dirty that it's difficult to make out anything inside -- he thinks he sees what could be an oval of Nichkhun's pale face, but then the car is speeding past, and the store is behind him.

That night's dream features Nichkhun again, only the setting is different from the others. They're in Nichkhun's white room, standing close together, and the three jars are pulsing behind them. Nichkhun smiles, giving Wooyoung a brief but tight hug.

"I'm glad I got to meet you, Wooyoung," Nichkhun says. He sounds good-natured, but his eyes seem sad.

Wooyoung wants to agree, wants to say, "Me too," something that will reassure Nichkhun and make him feel better, but for some reason his voice is gone.

"You've made me very happy, the past few weeks you've stayed with me," Nichkhun says.

Wooyoung wants to say that the feeling is mutual.

"Maybe we'll meet again, sometime."

Wooyoung wants to gasp, "What?" but nothing comes out of his mouth.

Nichkhun lips touch Wooyoung's cheek. "Bye," he says, and when Wooyoung blinks, he's gone.

Wooyoung is left, standing alone, in the middle of an empty white room. There is nothing at all, except the echo of his own heartbeat resounding in his ears, the icy fear spreading through his body, gripping his chest with a sharp, aching pain, and one question, screaming through his mind:

If I had given you my heart, would you have stayed?

On Sunday, the day of the competition, Wooyoung's father takes his grandmother to the local clinic to get her examined for a sudden onslaught of dry coughs. Wooyoung's mother closes the shop for lunch, and drives Wooyoung downtown to the arena venue by the mall, where there is already a considerable line-up of eager young people, each of them desperate for a taste of stardom. Wooyoung should be excited, but instead he feels numb, hollow, and takes in everyone else's animated faces with a detached silence. He ought to be in the same mood as them all, and in fact had expected to be, but he finds that he doesn't have the energy or the motivation for it.

When they had driven past Nichkhun's store earlier, the shop had looked ready to collapse in on itself. On its front door was pasted a red sign, with three words written out in thick white font.

CLOSED FOR BUSINESS

Wooyoung hears the crowd applaud madly at the end of Junho's dance and takes a deep, calming breath to steady himself. He fidgets on his feet, fingers coming up to smooth the numbered paper stuck on his chest. Participant no. 240, Jang Wooyoung. Age 18, hometown Busan, favourite genre of music, hip-hop.

From his position backstage, Wooyoung didn't have a very good view of either Chansung or Junho's performances, but just from the amount of applause the both of them had received, he knows that they both did well. Chansung's turn had ended a while ago, and now Junho is being subjected to a question period, during which it is revealed right away that he is Rain's little brother, and equally quickly, Rain denies knowledge of this, which gets a hearty laugh from the crowd.

Wooyoung lets the back-and-forth conversation wash over him as he tries to calm his nerves. He's too nervous. He has to gain better control or he's going to slip up on stage. And he can't, not with this. He's got to give the best performance he can. This is the type of opportunity that he’s been training for all his life, and it might be the first real step Wooyoung’s taken into the professional world he’d coveted for so long. The question remains if he can actually win over Junho and Chansung -- he's better than Chansung, maybe, but Junho's drive to succeed is stronger than Wooyoung's, for his own reasons. Although... even if Wooyoung loses, he knows it’ll be okay. It’s enough that he’s allowed to be here, trying.

It’s enough that there are certain people who believe that he will succeed.

Maybe we'll meet again, sometime.

Shut up, Wooyoung tells himself. Shut up, it was a stupid dream, it didn't mean anything. The shop may have closed, but it hasn't fallen yet. It's still there. It'll still be there later.

Then, what would happen to the shopkeeper?

What do you think?

No. No, stop. Don't think about this right now. The biggest stage of Wooyoung's life and he's worrying about a stupid shopkeeper and his stupid shop -- Nichkhun would not have wanted Wooyoung to lose focus here, Nichkhun would have wanted Wooyoung to try his best for --

I hope all your dreams come true.

Why is he so caught up on this? It isn't even like Wooyoung had been in love with the guy --

Sometimes I think you were meant to come to my shop.

"NEXT CONTESTANT!"

Wooyoung jumps, slamming down back to reality.

"Will contestant number 240 please come out? Jang Wooyoung."

Wooyoung takes one last deep breath, adjusts his clothes, steels his shoulders, and makes his way onto the stage.

Inexplicably, as he raises his face to meet the spotlight, he thinks of his father.

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