NEO TV # ROCKABYE (taeyong x reader) 2/?.
genre: single dad au, ceo au, fluff, slightly angst, smut.
warnings: adult language, death mentions, idk there's not a lot of warning for this one.
word count: 7k (not proofread!!!)
a/n: if you want to be in the taglist, just lemme know;) enjoy!
When Taeyong was growing up, he always carried with him the memory of the wonderful family he had, a small yet at the same time, great family. He, his mother, and his father didn't need anyone else. They were always the three of them, and it was more than enough. Sure, his family wasn't always conventional, and there were obviously mistakes here and there, but that would never mean that Taeyong wouldn't be grateful for the life and love his parents provided him.
Taeyong was always a starry-eyed boy. Passionate about everything that interested him. As a child, he went through countless phases trying to discover what he wanted for his future... Would he be the same man as his father? Or would he choose another profession? Would he be a stay-at-home dad and dedicate himself to his family?
Like the hyperactive child he was... he never knew for sure, and if there was an exact word to describe Lee Taeyong, it would surely be unpredictable.
Unpredictable because no one had the slightest idea what the boy's next step would be. Unpredictable because Taeyong changed his opinions every half an hour unless he felt one hundred percent sure about what he was doing. That was Lee Taeyong, that's how his family and friends knew him, and that's how he was formed.
Nevertheless, the boy matured at a fast pace. Without necessarily feeling it present, the pressure regarding his father's company position was looming closer and closer, not explicitly, but it wasn't necessary to be so to know what would become of him once he graduated from university. He could always hear what others said about him: 'Oh, Mrs. Lee's son is a true gentleman, surely his parents will be proud of him' ... 'Will he really take over the Lee company? He's nothing more than a spoiled child who always had everything handed to him on a silver platter.'
There were always different opinions and criticisms from different perspectives. Yes, Taeyong knew he wasn't perfect, he was more than aware of it. Taeyong was human, he had made mistakes, stumbled along the way, but he always tried to put one foot forward and rise from every stumble he had encountered.
He wasn't a relationship guy. He was sure of that. Of course, he had had some teenage romances in his high school days. He had been on a few dates during college, and yes, he had had at least one relationship that had lasted at least a year.
Although this last one was more about social pressure than simply enjoying the company of the girl who was his girlfriend at his twenty-three years. He would never blame Joy and would never speak bad about her; in the end, Joy had been someone with whom he had spent part of his growth and accompanied in various moments, which was when they decided to try some kind of relationship between them and for the good of both families according to his mother. The Lee family and the Park family had been partners for a long time, so what better than to bring together both heirs of their heritage to reinforce both businesses? However, that didn't last long. Only a year, Taeyong appreciated Joy and vice versa, but definitely didn't see any future with her. He tried, he really tried. He wanted to do his best, he wanted to do things right, but he couldn't. He simply couldn't.
And with the pressure from his family and Joy's family, nothing could be contracted.
'Taeyong, we are very happy that our daughter and you are making such great progress, we can't wait to see a ring on my daughter's finger.'
'Taeyong, time is passing and you still haven't knelt before her, you know we can't grow old without seeing you at the altar.'
'Taeyong, today Joy and I were at the mall and we saw a spectacular baby clothing store, you're taking too long! How lovely it would be to already have a little one running through the halls of the house!'
Marriage, family, commitment. It was something that Taeyong didn't think about and didn't want to have at his twenty-three years. Sure, someday he would have to settle down and form his legacy, but he wished it would be with someone he truly loved, with someone he could see his future with and grow old together, but could he ever get all that someday?"
_______________________________________________
First Month.
Week one.
For someone with enough money, Taeyong didn't usually keep his apartment constantly in undergoing renovations. Lee Taeyong was a simple man, he preferred the minimalist and the modest. Nothing extravagant, nothing ostentatious. At the end of the day, there were few times he found himself at home, its only use was just for sleeping, if he had the opportunity to do so.
However, as many things had been changing suddenly in the last few days, it was no news that his apartment would be one of the things involved in one of those changes. So his apartment was now filled with piles of boxes here and there and a few cans of paint waiting to be used.
It would be a long process.
"If someone told me that, that when I return from America, I would be assembling a crib for one of my friends' daughters, I definitely wouldn't believe it," Jaehyun said slowly as he read some instructions.
"Hard to believe, but not impossible," commented Doyoung, snatching the paper from his hands and now reading the instructions.
"It's just that I only left for two weeks! And now I'm an uncle! As far as I know, that process takes nine months," exclaimed Jaehyun exasperatedly.
A thump on his head made him stop and he brought his hand to his neck to rub it as he complained slowly and looked at the cause of that attack.
"It was a nine-month process, idiot. It's just that we didn't find out about it until a little over a week ago," Doyoung told him, looking at him disapprovingly.
After that, and quietly giving up on how to build a crib, they left the room where they were and headed to the small baby carrier that was on the couch with a very peaceful Sun Hee inside it, or at least she seemed to be peaceful.
Doyoung and Jaehyun approached her, who either looked at them or made an attempt to do so, with her eyes wide open and babbling sweetly. The heads of both boys tilted as they watched the little one and her actions, almost as if they were examining her and trying to guess what her next move would be.
May the universe take care of the little one with such uncles she has.
"She looks like Taeyong," murmured Jaehyun.
"Well, of course she looks like him, she's his daughter," Doyoung replied obviously.
"She could look like her mom, who knows," the younger shrugged and continued to watch the little one. Who would have thought that one of their friends would be a father?, who would have thought that the very Lee Taeyong, who loved freedom, would become a father? The little one remained calm for a few more moments, until Doyoung and Jaehyun's gaze that was on her may have made her uncomfortable, because without further ado and letting out a whimper, she began to cry; causing both boys to look at each other and panic as they didn't know what to do next.
"Should I pick her up?" Jaehyun asked alarmed. He had never held a baby before. "Sun Hee? Calm down... calm down Sun Hee... don't cry."
"Where's Taeyong?" asked Doyoung, and the baby's crying became even louder. "Taeyong!"
"Sun Hee, please don't cry," murmured Jaehyun as he looked around, then took the remote control and turned on the TV. "Look! Look Sun Hee, the news! That so interesting, isn't it?"
"You idiot, what does she know about the news," snapped an upset Doyoung as he lightly hit his friend's arm.
"How would I know, I've never had a daughter! Where's Taeyong? Taeyong!" they called again for the attention of the father, who was not present, and the little one began to cry more and more. "Sun Hee, don't cry because I'm also going to cry," commented a very sentimental Jaehyun.
To the misfortune of both boys, Taeyong along with Johnny had gone down to the lobby of the building for a couple of things that would be delivered for the apartment renovation.
Who else but the great Lee Taeyong would leave a baby in the care of TWO adult babies? Nobody else but him.
Doyoung quickly grabbed a toy that looked like a rattle and after seeing his friend entering a great state of panic, he began to shake it trying to get the attention of the little one who seemed not to have precisely an off button, and instead of getting distracted and stopping crying with the noise of her toy, she seemed to become more uncomfortable and start crying once again.
Both friends looked at each other again, defeated. A one-week-old baby had more power over them. They would definitely be ready to be parents in about... thirty years.
"You idiots , what have you done to my princess?" Lee Taeyong questioned once inside his apartment, leaving the boxes he was carrying on the floor and approaching his daughter, lifting her in his arms and making her cry cease once she felt the warmth of her father.
"What did we do to her? What did she do to us!" exclaimed Jaehyun, bringing his hands to his face.
"You're so dramatic, Sun Hee is a sunshine," commented Johnny, approaching his friends and stroking the cheeks of the little one in Taeyong's arms. "Aren't you? You're a very pretty sunshine, Sun Hee, I bet when you grow up you'll be so pretty that everyone will be after you," he said in a high-pitched voice while Sun Hee seemed to be very familiar with the voice of her third uncle, who was making a very small attempt at a smile.
"Look at that, it seems like Sunnie already has favoritism towards one of her uncles," Taeyong said, smiling tenderly as he saw his daughter calmer.
"Johnny her favorite uncle? I'm the godfather!" exclaimed Doyoung offended.
"He's the godfather?" Jaehyun and Johnny asked incredulously, pointing at Doyoung.
Oh no.
Taeyong looked innocently at his friends and smiled slightly once an idea lit up his head.
"Whoever manages to assemble her crib will be her godfather. Isn't that right, Sun Hee?" the little one just babbled while her eyes closed, beginning to drift off to sleep.
He didn't need to repeat his sentence before his friends ran out of the room and ran towards the place that would be Sun Hee's room.
Taeyong laughed and left his little daughter in the baby carrier while gently rocking her.
It will be a long day.
_____________________________________________
First month.
Week three.
If there's one thing people know about Lee Taeyong, it's that he's a dedicated and determined man. A workaholic perhaps, and that might be the reason behind the great success and reputation of his company. Taeyong knew what he was doing, and he was the best at it. His investments always remained clean and on a large scale; any businessman would feel honored to work with the great Lee, or even to have a minimal connection with him. He was well-known in the business world, not just because of who his father was, but because of the great work he had done on his own to achieve everything his companies obtained after his father's retirement. A young man in big business, respected by the world.
That was Lee Taeyong.
He was also a man of routine and hated when it was affected. Over the years and as he grew older, Taeyong realized that the best thing for him was to have a schedule ready for each morning so that things would go more smoothly and efficiently. His days were mostly planned, but it was obvious that there would always be some unexpected event to deal with during the day. However, Taeyong always found a way to handle it as organized as possible.
However, with the arrival of Sun Hee in his life, and what it caused to change completely, his routine had to be terribly affected. He had been aware that this would happen, at least in the first weeks – or months – of Sun Hee's life. At least until he could take her to a daycare or until he could find a nanny he could trust completely to leave the most precious thing in his life in her care.
So for now, he had to play two roles, that of being a father and that of being the CEO of one of Korea's most important companies. Although now that he could see his life from two completely different points of view, he could assure that the first role was by far more difficult than the second.
He had heard a lot about being a father, even his mother had given him a book on how to be a father, he thought it would help, but it really didn't help at all. Being a single father was hard, especially being a first-timer; his mind was in chaos. Of course, he loved Sun Hee, she was his life, his ray of sunshine, but sometimes it was too much to handle, sometimes the diapers didn't fit as nicely as a pretty nurse had taught him... Sometimes Sun Hee didn't want to drink the formula that Taeyong offered her when she was supposed to eat – and according to his mother, maybe it was because the girl needed breast milk, how the hell could Taeyong do that? – Sometimes no matter how much effort he made, Sun Hee wouldn't stop crying.
And that's where he was right now. At three in the morning, with visible dark circles under his eyes, his hair disheveled, barefoot while rocking Sun Hee back and forth in his arms, who seemed to find no peace.
"Shh, Sunnie. What's wrong? You should sleep a little, don't you want to let Daddy rest a bit?"
The day for Taeyong had been difficult; there had been some mishaps in the company that couldn't be dealt with from home, so he had to go there with Sun Hee as his company.
The confused looks from his employees had not been of much help to him at that moment.
Nor had it been of much help that Sun Hee had been whiny all day. Taeyong didn't understand what was going on with his little one, it wasn't that she needed a diaper change, it wasn't that she was hungry... she just spent the day throwing little complaints.
And that had been too much for Taeyong. The pressure of business matters and the responsibility he had as a father became too much.
Sun Hee continued to cry in his arms, and Taeyong felt like he would cry at any moment too.
"Sunnie, please. I don't want us to be kicked out of the building for bothering the neighbors," murmured a very frustrated father. "Calm down, baby, can you do that for me? Can you calm down a bit, huh? Can you do that for Daddy?"
Taeyong stroked his daughter's cheek, who seemed to stop crying and just let out a few small sobs that hopefully would stop in a few seconds.
He sighed and relaxed his body, bringing Sun Hee closer to him.
And maybe... just maybe, he spoke too quickly.
Because as soon as he was relaxed, his daughter started crying again, and this time Taeyong couldn't take it anymore and cried too. He sat on his bed with her in his arms, and a few tears fell from his eyes.
Looking at his daughter and seeing the state she was in, he couldn't help but feel his heart ache. Sun Hee looked so fragile, so small. How could he keep her safe? How could he make everything alright? Oh, how he wished he had come into the world with all the knowledge about how to be a good father in his mind.
"I wish I could know what's wrong with you, Sun Hee, but I can't read your little mind," he murmured between sobs. Obviously, his daughter didn't respond, but rather continued with her act.
His lungs would probably hurt right now with all the crying he had done, and that terrified Taeyong, who stood in his place and walked to the bedside table, where he picked up his phone and entered his contacts list. He didn't exactly know what he was doing or why, but his desperation overpowered him, and in a moment his fingers were dialing the only number he could think of, he just hoped he was doing the right thing.
One tone... two tones...
It's three in the morning, Lee Taeyong, who would answer you at this hour?
Three tones... four tones.
"Hello?" a very sleepy voice was heard on the other end of the line, and Taeyong could feel the air returning to his lungs.
"Y/N?, I'm really sorry for calling you at this hour," Lee murmured as he left his daughter in her rocker and held his phone between his shoulder and ear.
(Y/N) recognized that voice after a few seconds and recognized those cries even more, making her sit up briefly in her bed and mentally forcing herself to wake up completely.
"Taeyong? What's wrong? Is it Sun Hee the one I hear?"
Of course, it's Sun Hee, idiot! What other daughter does Lee Taeyong have?
"Yes, it's Sun Hee... and I... don't know what's going on. Sunnie has been complaining all day and hasn't stopped crying for a while. I don't know what to do, I've already changed her diaper, she's already eaten, I even sang her some lullabies, but nothing works," explained Taeyong desperately. "I don't know what to do, I'm tired, my arms hurt from carrying her so much, I've memorized all the nursery rhymes, and Sun Hee doesn't seem happy with anything."
"Oh, Taeyong..."
"You were sleeping, weren't you? Oh God, I'm so sorry, I know it's late, but calling you was the only thing I could think of, I'm really sorry..."
"Taeyong?" (Y/N) called him. "Don't worry, I told you that you could call me if you ever needed it. I have no problem helping you, even if it's three in the morning," the girl could hear the soft laugh of the nurse on the other end of the line, and this created a great contrast between the incessant cries of his daughter and the sweet laughter of (Y/N). "What can I do for you?"
"I know it's late, but I can't think of anything else, can you come? Or if you want, I can put Sun Hee in her car seat and drive over there!" Taeyong explained quickly.
"Calm down, I don't think it's the best idea for you to drive stressed and with Sun Hee crying in the back seat. Send me your address, and I'll be there in a moment."
"Thank you, (Y/N), I wouldn't be calling at this hour if I really didn't need it..."
______________________________________________
The door of Taeyong's large apartment was knocked, and this alerted the boy as he carried his baby close to his chest. Lee headed to the entrance of his house, and when he opened it, he found (Y/N) in a very different contrast than he had become accustomed to seeing her. For obvious reasons, she was not in her work clothes, and now she was wearing a black sweatshirt with cute pants covered in puppy drawings all over. Her hair slightly loose and without a drop of makeup.
Even so, she looked pretty.
Taeyong blinked a couple of times and moved aside to let the girl pass while he continued to rock his daughter.
(Y/N) entered the apartment and approached the father and the little girl.
"Can you lay her down somewhere? I'd like to give her a quick check-up,"
Taeyong nodded without hesitation, walked to the room that had been adapted for Sun Hee, and laid her down in her crib. The crib that Johnny had successfully built, opening the fight between who would truly be Sun Hee's godfather... something they would detail later.
Once the little one was in her crib, (Y/N) lifted her clothes slightly to observe Sun Hee's stomach and see a few more things. The boy simply watched in silence, resigned by his daughter's cries and giving a couple of glances to the girl beside him.
I wish the call I made had been for something else and not for this.
Taeyong and (Y/N) hadn't had contact since that time two weeks ago when the former had left the hospital. Taeyong tried to call her a couple of times, to thank her again for everything she had done for them during the time she had been Sun Hee's nurse, but for some reason, he was always busy enough with his daughter and the company, and he didn't allow himself to do it.
He would have liked to invite her for coffee sometime.
He really would have liked that.
"I'm not exactly a doctor," (Y/N) spoke. "But I've worked with many babies to see these consistent behaviors. It seems to me that Sun Hee is suffering from colic; I think it would be best to take her to the pediatrician first thing in the morning just to be sure."
Taeyong nodded without saying a word, maybe because he was too tired to formulate anything or because maybe his mind was no longer processing anything. (Y/N) smiled tenderly, regardless of the little one's whining; after all, it was something she heard daily in maternal care.
"Can I?" she asked, pointing to Sun Hee. Taeyong nodded again, and (Y/N) took the little one in her arms. "Oh Sun Hee, it's been a while since we last saw each other; you look even prettier than two weeks ago, even though you won't stop crying," she murmured, earning a small laugh from Taeyong.
"Try spending three hours listening to her cry," the visibly tired boy replied.
"I work in maternal care, remember? I hear several babies cry at the same time."
"True," Taeyong sighed, "it's just that it's tiring, you know? Particularly today was a heavy day, and it seems that Sunnie has no intention of letting me sleep tonight."
"We'll try to fix it then," (Y/N) gave him a smile, glanced around the room, and when she found a rocking chair, she went there to sit down.
She placed Sun Hee on her lap face down and began to pat her back gently, then used her fingers to give her a little massage, delicate enough for her. For a moment, the crying didn't stop, but after a few minutes, the father found himself really surprised to notice that his daughter had managed to calm down.
From the doorway of the room, with his arms crossed over his chest... Taeyong smiled.
But what a sight. (Y/N) tried not to be distracted by this and continued to massage while clearing her throat.
"The nursery is very nice," she commented, trying to look anywhere but at the boy's figure.
Taeyong nodded and approached her slightly.
If you don't see him, you won't be distracted... if you're not distracted by him, you won't think anything impure...
"Yes, we set it up the first week Sun Hee was here. The guys and I went through a moment-" Taeyong laughed as he remembered the day- "Do you remember, Doyoung? He was the one who accompanied me on the last day at the hospital," (Y/N) nodded, "Doyoung, Johnny, and Jaehyun helped me, it was chaos, but we managed to set everything up... still, Sun Hee doesn't sleep here yet."
"Really?"
"Mhmm, Sunnie sleeps with me. In a way, it's easier for her to sleep if I'm by her side; I just put some pillows around her, and she sleeps in my bed," he commented, feeling his cheeks blush. In reality, it wasn't so much that Sun Hee had gotten used to him, but rather that Taeyong rested more peacefully knowing that his daughter was by his side, so he would know that, if something happened, he could respond immediately.
"That's very sweet," she commented, "how has everything been? It's been three weeks since I heard anything from you," she continued massaging the little one's back.
"Uh, it's been good, I guess. Sometimes a bit chaotic, but I have my parents' help and Sun Hee's uncles," he replied, "... my friends, they say they're Sunnie's uncles, and I agree with them, they're like my brothers."
"It's nice to know you have someone to lean on; it would be much harder if you were alone," she took the baby in her arms and rocked her as she saw her sleepy face.
Taeyong, surprised by the immense ability of the nurse, watched the scene with tenderness, which looked too domestic. Too much for Taeyong's liking.
"Yes, it's been hard, but they've been a great help. I've been working from here, so I have to take care of the company and Sun Hee at the same time. Sometimes it gets stressful, but I have to keep doing it, at least until Sunnie gets bigger and I can get a nanny... or take her to the company. I don't know which of the two options is worse."
"You'll surely find a good nanny or daycare," (Y/N) encouraged, "you know? We have a daycare at the hospital... well, not exactly in maternal care or in the hospital itself, it's affiliated. Sometimes I cover shifts there; maybe you should consider it."
"Yes, maybe," Taeyong smiled.
Both remained silent for a few seconds, (Y/N) still gently rocking the little one to not wake her from the sleep she had fallen into, and Taeyong discreetly looking at the nurse.
Never in his life did he think he would find himself in such a situation.
But he wasn't complaining; he liked the scene. It was nice to see.
(Y/N) also discreetly contemplated the scene and thought to herself: How is it possible for Lee Taeyong to look so attractive at three in the morning? Even with dark circles under his eyes?
It wasn't news that the man seemed attractive to her, but after three weeks without hearing from him, she thought she wouldn't think of him that way. Of course, Taeyong and Sun Hee were constantly on her mind; she wanted to know about them on many occasions, but she had no way to contact with him, and the hospital, for good reasons, wouldn't give her the Lee family's private information; after all, it's the hospital's policies, and she would respect them.
However, she was grateful that Taeyong had called her, even though it had been at three in the morning on a Tuesday, to deal with Sun Hee's irritated problem.
She just hoped that if they met again, it would be in a different situation...
______________________________________________
An hour and a half later, with a deeply sleeping Sun Hee in Taeyong's bed surrounded by pillows, and the clock showing four forty-five in the morning. Lee Taeyong and Kang (Y/N) were in the living room of the apartment, not saying much.
"I think I should go," the girl commented. "I start my shift in a few hours."
Two hours and fifteen minutes to be exact.
"Oh my God, (T/N), you should have told me you had an early shift; I wouldn't have made you come here if I had known," Taeyong exclaimed alarmed.
"Don't worry, really. I told you that you could call me if you ever needed anything, and I meant it. You and Sun Hee would never be a problem. I'm glad to help," she smiled.
"Thank you very much, it means a lot to me that you did this," the boy commented. For a moment, he thought about taking the girl's hands and giving them a slight squeeze, but he held back his thoughts. "I promise to repay you soon... maybe with a coffee?" the brunette asked, feeling a surge of hope in his chest.
He saw the girl's smile widen, causing him to smile as well, and he lowered his gaze shyly.
"Rest assured that I'll say yes," she replied. "I'll be waiting for your call, even if it takes three weeks again," she joked.
"I won't take that long this time, I promise you."
"We'll see about that... in the meantime, don't forget to take Sun Hee to the pediatrician tomorrow; anything you need, you can call me, Lee Taeyong. I'd like to know how things are going with Sun Hee afterward."
"I'll let you know if anything comes up."
"Goodnight, Lee Taeyong."
"Goodnight, (Y/N)."
And so, at five in the morning, each went to bed with a small smile decorating their faces.
____________________________________________
For (Y/N), life was something she appreciated.
Perhaps that's why she chose to work in the healthcare field.
She grew up in a middle-class family. Nothing extravagant, but with everything necessary to live comfortably. Her family wasn't large either; it was just her, her two siblings, and her parents. A typical family with its ups and downs.
She was never demanding and instead tried to help with whatever she could. She liked making people feel good and enjoyed contributing whenever possible, something that made her parents proud.
She grew up as a normal girl, at least until she reached high school, where her parents' divorce took place. She never knew when it happened or what led them to make that decision, which left a scar on her heart.
Or maybe she always knew but never wanted to acknowledge it.
She must have noticed it when her parents started arguing over every little thing. She must have noticed it when her father was less present at home. Surely, she noticed it when her mother cried all day in her room when her husband spent the entire night away. Perhaps the times when her older sister was irritated and left home to hang out with people of dubious reputation were a sign of how her family was gradually falling apart.
However, she hoped it wouldn't be like that.
Still, despite how much that decision affected her, she continued with her life as best as she could, being a support to her mother and becoming the older sister when her brother failed in that task.
She became an independent woman. She didn't like relying on others for money, which is why she managed to work since she entered high school. It was a part-time job, enough for her to have her own money, and it was the job that allowed her to find her vocation and passion.
Her job wasn't complicated – or at least, it didn't feel that way because it was something she genuinely enjoyed. Every day, after finishing her last high school class, (Y/N) rushed to the Dongjak area, where on a small street, she found the daycare center that allowed her to find her path. At that time, she didn't fully interact with the children, as she lacked the experience needed and was still young for that, but she was the assistant to the caregivers there, and seeing them work excited her every day.
She didn't know if she had developed an emotional attachment there, after the conflicts that had arisen at home due to her parents' arguments.
But she enjoyed being there, she really did.
Then her sister, in an attempt to leave home and go with who she swore was the love of her life, got pregnant at a young age. It was a difficult pregnancy, and (Y/N) took part in taking care of her sister throughout the process. She appreciated everything she had learned at the daycare center, which allowed her to put it into practice once her nephew was born.
Her nephew was the apple of her eye and would always be.
She didn't blame her sister, she really didn't want to, but there were times when it seemed like she was the mother of her nephew herself. There were many occasions when she had to take care of Jisung. Her sister had to leave high school behind and get a job to cover her and her son's needs, especially after the man who swore to always be by her side had cowardly fled two months before giving birth, making the childbirth process even more difficult than it already was.
So, her nephew saw her as a pillar. Someone who took care of him, fed him, changed him, and cared for him. (Y/N) even witnessed his "firsts" before his own mother. His first steps, his first words, she even accompanied him on his first day of preschool, continuing until she had to go to university.
Having found her vocation early on made everything easier. She entered the Academy of Health and Pediatric Nursing in Seoul. Where she always got good grades and became an exemplary student, graduating with all the honors her academy could give her almost three years ago.
It wasn't difficult for her to find a job immediately, thanks to the recommendations some of her teachers had, she was able to find a nice position in the maternity and pediatric care area at Seoul General Hospital, where she couldn't feel more comfortable.
Where she was right now.
" Nurse (Y/N)!" a soft voice called from behind her, causing her to turn around and smile emotionally.
"Hello, little one," she greeted, approaching the bed of one of her patients. "How are you feeling today?"
"Very well, they told Mom that I can go home today, they say the treatment worked," the boy told her with a huge smile on his face.
"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that! You'll soon be back to see your friends at school," she encouraged him.
"Yes, but I'll miss you a lot, so I made this for you," he said, pointing to the piece of paper in his hands. "It's you and me."
(Y/N) smiled tenderly and looked at the drawing Kaeyoon had made for her.
"It's very nice, Yoonie, thank you very much for your gift, I'll hang it on my fridge," she said as she high-fived the boy. Then she looked at the drawing and looked doubtful. "And who is he? Is he your dad?" she asked, pointing to another figure in the drawing.
"No, that's Doctor Yuta, and he has hearts in his eyes because he's your boyfriend!" he exclaimed happily, causing (Y/N) to widen her eyes and then release a smile.
"But Yoonie~, Doctor Yuta is not my boyfriend," she replied, still laughing.
"Then can I be your boyfriend?” he asked skillfully.
"Oh, honey, I'm afraid you're too young for me," she replied with a smile.
"And when I get bigger?"
"Maybe when you're big," (T/N) continued. "But by then, you'll surely have found another girlfriend that will have your age."
"But you're the prettiest! Besides, I have to beat Doctor Yuta," he muttered.
"What do you have to beat me in?" another voice chimed in, and (Y/N)'s body reacted to it.
"In nothing."
"In being (Y/N)'s boyfriend," Kaeyoon and (T/N) replied in unison.
Yuta opened his mouth and pretended to be surprised. "So it's a competition?"
"Yoonie's just kidding," (T/N) said with a nervous smile. "You know how kids are, doctor."
"Look, doctor! I've made a drawing for you too," Kaeyoon exclaimed, changing the subject drastically, and it was the perfect opportunity for (Y/N) to awkwardly step away from there.
She wrapped the drawing in the paper and put it in the pocket of her pants before starting to check the checklist and see which child she should attend to. She stood at the desk for a few seconds, checking and arranging things until she felt a presence beside her, one that she could easily identify.
"So you have little kids falling for you," Yuta commented with a mocking smile.
(T/N) smiled nervously. "That's how kids are. Two weeks ago, he was in love with Nurse Mina."
"But he was right to fall for you," Dr. Yuta continued, and (T/N) let out a laugh followed by him. "Would you like to go for a coffee in your next break at the hospital cafeteria? I mean, it's not the most elegant thing, but I'd like to spend some more time with you."
(Y/N)'s cheeks turned crimson, and she nodded, smiling. "Oh yes, of course. I would love to."
"Maybe I might win you over Kaeyoon," Yuta said as he walked away from the desk.
_______________________________________________
Second month.
Week one, Thursday.
(Y/N) had been right two weeks ago. Sun Hee was suffering from colic, and according to the pediatrician, it was due to the formula Taeyong had been feeding her.
Taeyong instinctively felt like a bad father; he had been feeding his daughter something her little stomach seemed unable to tolerate. But how could he have known? He had to completely discard those formula cans from his pantry and replace them with the new formula the pediatrician had recommended, and soon, Sun Hee's discomfort was diminishing.
Even now, he could sleep a little more at night.
Along with the massages he had learned the night (Y/N) had helped him and a couple of other routines, Sun Hee's colic decreased.
(Y/N)…
Although Taeyong had assured not to take three weeks again to contact her, it seemed that Taeyong really wanted to leave her waiting. Not to misinterpret, it wasn't that he didn't want to call her and invite her for a coffee, but his life was busy, and his priority was his daughter instead of throwing flirty glances around.
Although he knew that a coffee was the least Taeyong could offer her in gratitude for that time at three in the morning, he simply couldn't muster the courage to pick up his damn phone and dial a few numbers. Besides, he didn't want to misread the signs; who would want to date a dad?
"You should just call her," Johnny advised as he watched his friend from the other side of the couch.
Sun Hee rested on her father's chest as he stared at his phone incessantly.
"I don't know, John," Taeyong replied with a sigh.
"How long has it been? Two weeks? You should have called her the next day."
"I don't want to pressure anything... maybe she's not interested."
"The girl came at three in the morning on a Tuesday, do you really think she wouldn't be even slightly interested?" Johnny asked incredulously.
"It was for Sun Hee, nothing else. She said she wouldn't mind helping with Sun Hee whenever she could," the younger one confessed, stroking his daughter's back.
"You should give yourself more credit, Lee Taeyong. You're a coveted and handsome man; being a dad now doesn't change how attractive you are."
"I was hoping she would be interested, not you," he joked, and Johnny contemplated throwing a pillow at him for a moment, but after seeing his niece on his friend's chest, he stopped.
"You'll never know if she has even a little interest if you don't call her. Plus, for the favor she did you, it's the least you can do."
Taeyong fell silent and sighed.
"I know, I'm aware of that," he replied, closing his eyes momentarily. "I'll keep considering it."
"You're stubborn," Johnny commented, rolling his eyes.
"Alright, alright. Get your ass up and come with me to the supermarket; Sun Hee finished her formula, and she needs more."
"Anything for my niece."
______________________________________________
“What do you think of this?” Johnny asked as he showed Taeyong a jar of baby food.
Taeyong turned around and snorted.
“Sun Hee still can't eat those things; besides, the doctor recommended that once Sunnie started trying food, I should prepare her purees myself. It's more natural,” the father shrugged, glancing at his daughter strapped to his chest in a baby carrier.
“Wow.”
“Wow what?”
“I never in my life imagined you playing the role of a dad,” Johnny commented with a half-smile.
His friend sighed and placed a can of formula in the shopping cart before sighing again.
“I didn't either, but Sun Hee came, and I'll try to be the best father she could have,“ he replied, smiling as he looked at his daughter. “ Everything happened very quickly, but Sunnie is a ray of sunshine.”
“She is!” Johnny agreed, then cleared his throat. “When are you going back to work? At the company, I mean.”
“John, this isn't the place to talk about that,” Taeyong said, pushing the cart.
“Taeyong, you know it has to happen. At some point in your life, you have to return to your usual routine. You can't work from home your whole life. Even the day will come when you have to go out and have fun too!”
“Johnny, stop”
“You know I'm right, Taeyong.”
The younger one sighed again. "I know, John, but now isn't the time for that. Sunnie is only two months old; the day will come when I can take her to the office without her getting irritated so quickly or the day when she's big enough to leave her in daycare."
“Just promise me you won't put your life completely on hold. I know Sunnie is your priority now, and some things change when you become a father, but please, also give yourself some time. If you ever need it, you can ask your mother to take care of her, I could even be Sun Hee's babysitter for a day!”
“I'd rather leave Sunnie with Doyoung and Jaehyun than with you,” Taeyong joked.
“Hey! How could you prefer to leave my niece with those two clowns? They can't even take care of themselves!”
Taeyong chuckled and continued pushing the shopping cart while considering what groceries to bring home.
“Okay, Johnny, I really appreciate it.”
His friend kept talking beside him, but he wasn't really paying attention. Instead, he was focusing on the items on the shelves and what he should take home, gently rocking Sun Hee to prevent her from crying right there.
He stopped somewhere between the cereal aisle and the canned goods, and upon hearing a child's laughter, he turned to his right, finding a very familiar face. The girl was about twenty steps away from him, with a smile on her face as she listened to what a little boy was saying to her.
Taeyong was confused; his brow furrowed as he looked sideways at the scene. Was that girl (Y/N)? If so, who was the boy next to her? His eyes widened; could he be her son? But what about that time at three in the morning? She wouldn't leave her child alone somewhere to go help another family... What if she had a husband and left him with him? Oh no, no, no, no.
“Taeyong?“ a female voice brought him back to reality, and he focused on the girl coming towards him with a confused expression, then smiling as she recognized him.
“ (Y/N), hi” he greeted, once she and the boy holding her hand were in front of him.
“ Of all the places we could run into each other, it has to be the supermarket” she commented, laughing softly.
Taeyong smiled. "Yes, Sunnie ran out of formula, so I had to come for more," he explained, pointing at his daughter.
“ Oh, I see. How's Sun Hee? I haven't heard from you since about two weeks ago,“ she inquired.
“She's been better; she had colics because her stomach couldn't handle the formula she was drinking. Now everything's fine.”
“I'm glad to hear that,“ (Y/N) noticed how Taeyong discreetly observed Jisung and spoke, “ Oh, yes, he's Jisung*. He's my nephew; I brought him to buy his favorite cereal, and he's staying over tonight.”
The guy felt the blood rushing back through his body and smiled warmly as he leaned slightly to look at the little boy.
“Hey, hi champ. I'm Taeyong, and she” he momentarily uncovered his daughter's face “ is Sun Hee.”
“Hi, Mr. I'm Jisung, and I'm this many,“ he held up his right hand, raising five fingers and showing them to Taeyong, who smiled tenderly.
“Oh, that's a lot. You're almost catching up to me.”
“Yeah, he’s almost your age” she laughed off.
In that brief moment, Taeyong and (Y/N) exchanged a few more words. The guy was distracted by her, now seeing her in a different light. He had seen her in her work clothes, then in pajamas when he called her at three in the morning, and now he saw her in a floral dress and a thin sweater covering her, with her hair loose and slightly wavy, and a bit of gloss on her lips.
She looked phenomenal. Actually, she looked phenomenal no matter what.
In nurse's attire, in pajamas, he was sure she would even look spectacular in a sack of potatoes because she just shone in every way.
However, his little and discreet admiration was interrupted when Johnny's voice called him abruptly.
“Hey, Taeyong. Look what I found; this would look cute on my niece” Johnny spoke, lightly tapping his back as he reached his side. Then he realized the situation and smiled sideways, “Oh, I didn't know you had found someone. I'm Johnny Suh, pleased to meet you” the blonde commented, extending his hand to the girl and giving a high-five to the little boy.
“She's (Y/N),” Taeyong said, fearing the worst.
“Oh.”
“ Nice to meet you, Johnny. I'm (Y/N). I was Sun Hee's nurse while she was in the hospital” she spoke kindly.
Johnny smiled playfully and turned to look at his friend, who was looking at him barely shaking his head.
Taeyong could expect anything from his friend, and that was what he feared the most.
“Oh, so you're the nurse Yong wanted to invite for coffee?“ he innocently asked.
“Johnny.”
“Hmm, I don't know” she responded with a little laugh, “Am I?”
“Excuse my friend; he's a very busy and absent-minded man” Johnny explained, receiving a small punch in his ribs from Taeyong, who smiled falsely and continued talking to the girl, “Isn't that right, Taeyong?”
“Yes, sorry for not calling you back after that night; I've just been taking care of Sun Hee and working at the company, so I didn't find the right moment to call you” Taeyong spoke with his head slightly bowed, feeling embarrassed.
“Oh, don't worry. I figured you'd be busy. No need to apologize; I completely understand” she assured him with a smile.
“But what a lovely girl! You better invite her for coffee; otherwise, I'll do it myself” Johnny encouraged while still smiling, causing (Y/N) to laugh.
“Johnny...”
“I was just kidding,“ he raised his arms in a sign of innocence, “but I'll leave you two alone; I heard there's a sale on floral detergent. I can't miss it!“ he exclaimed so that, without further ado, he walked away from the aisle and left both guys with both children, alone.
“I'm sorry, really. Sometimes Johnny can be... extra,” Taeyong apologized quickly, shaking his head with a smile, “but what he said is true; I wanted to invite you for coffee, but I couldn't find the right moment to call you. I'm sorry for taking so long.”
She smiled sideways and nodded slightly as she placed her hand on the guy's shoulder.
“It's okay. I waited for your call after you said you wouldn't take three weeks to call me this time,” she said, laughing, “but I figured you'd be busy, so no hard feelings.
“Is it still time for me to invite you?” he asked, his big eyes shining. (Y/N) nodded with her cheeks turning red, “How about Saturday afternoon? I know of a café not far from here, and they sell amazing muffins. I'm sure you'll like the place.”
“You've convinced me with the muffins.”
“Of course” Taeyong laughed. “I'll send you the location by text... this time, I'll do it.”
“I'll wait for your message then,” she said, nodding, then staying silent for a few seconds.
Should they say goodbye now? Should he wave his hand? Or leave a kiss on her cheek? They still didn't have the confidence for that, did they? Would it be weird if he did? How complicated everything is!
“Auntie, I want to go now,” the voice of a little boy took them out of their trance, and they changed their view to the kid.
“Oh, of course, my love. Have you had your cereal?” the girl asked, and Jisung nodded, “Okay, then we’ll go,” she assured him, then turned her gaze back to the boy and the little one on his chest, “it's been nice seeing you; give Sun Hee a kiss from me, have a good night.”
“See you on Saturday.”
“See you on Saturday, Taeyong.”
______________________________________________
The boy approached his car where Johnny was leaning against it, waiting for him. Taeyong gave him a dirty look, and the blond raised his arms as he opened the back door.
“Don't look at me like that! “ he pleaded with a smile “I did you a favor, dude!”
“Just don't say anything and put the stuff in the trunk” Taeyong ordered as he placed Sunnie in her car seat.
Johnny obeyed his friend's orders and began to put everything inside the car. After a few minutes, he returned to Taeyong's side, who had already settled Sun Hee comfortably and asleep in her car seat.
“Come on, help me get rid of this thing, it's stuck,” the brunette said as he tried to open one of the zippers of his baby carrier, struggling with it.
His friend approached him even closer and tried to help in a failed attempt; the zipper was stuck, and it didn't seem to want to open even with all the force in the universe.
“Let me try, don't move,” Johnny requested as he held his friend by the back and put one of his hands on the zipper of the carrier, “why won't it come out?”
“What a beautiful family!“ the exclamation of an older lady was heard, causing both boys to look at her. She was looking at them with a tender smile as she waved at them. Then they looked at each other and at their current position, prompting Taeyong to quickly push him away with his hands, and Johnny cleared his throat as he turned around.
“You get rid of that by yourself”
I’m sorry I took too long for posting this!! 😭
Taglist is open, just lemme know if u want to be added! You can ask me something if you want here!
Taglist: @geminiml95 @zooana @cathamada
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for the record | l.ty
Pairing: Lee Taeyong x reader
Themes: strangers to lovers, rockstar! au, band! au, celebrity! au, journalist! reader, rockstar! taeyong, angst, fluff, slowburn, romance, very light comedy, PG-15; (moodboard)
Warnings: profanity, heavy ANGST, taeyong is a bit entitled at first, problematic paparazzi, kissing, food, alcohol consumption, drug use, a small mention of marijuana and use of it, smoking, lying, inaccurate depictions of the music and well as journalism industry, sexual innuendos, allusions to sex but nothing sexually explicit, suggestive
Word count: 51.4k
Summary: When you're presented with the opportunity to accompany the world’s hottest rock band, Cherry Bomb, on their latest tour for an article, you know it could be your chance at furthering your career and possibly acquiring a spot at the New York Times, every journalists dream. You strive to figure out the truth about all the rumours that seemed to hover around them, but you don’t anticipate are the extent of the lies involved, nor do you account for the charming front man.
Playlist: here
Notes from brooke: she’s finally here! and yes, on seeing that word count you can best believe that i am not just touching grass, but rolling around in it. this was supposed to be 25k but i sort of....got.....carried away....yEP!! it took four, almost five long months to write but i firmly can that it is one of the best things i have written and am very proud of it!! i worked harder on this fic than i have for any of my fics, so feedback would be greatly appreciated!! <3
You knew you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. It was, in no way, professional.
“What do you mean he’s dropping out?” Johnny’s voice was just loud enough to reach your ears from where you stood outside his office, saving you from the embarrassment of having to press your ear against the door. The editor had the habit of being pretty loud when he was distressed or pissed off, and that little fact was currently working to your advantage well. You stood there, holding your notes and listening carefully to the one side of the conversation you were unintentionally privy to.
“Are you kidding me? It’s the biggest piece he’d ever get to work on,” Johnny hissed and you could almost imagine him getting up from his seat and pacing around the room. You had been working at The Link newspaper for around nine months now and had managed to pick up the smallest details about your co-workers, a habit of yours had often helped you many a time.
The fact that Johnny had called this a big piece didn’t sound like much- after all, this was Los Angeles. There was a story waiting for you at every turn and corner if you looked hard enough for it, with so many aspiring actors and young D-List starlets running around the place, falling head first into any trouble they could find as long as it got them their fifteen minutes of fame.
LA hadn’t been the place you had initially wanted to end up in, far from it actually, but it was a start, one that you had taken on valiantly. After all, everyone had to start somewhere, and your brilliant plan was to somehow make it out of the sandy beaches of California and to the concrete jungles of New York by any means possible.
There was silence for a little bit, and you found yourself biting down on your lower lip, wishing you had access to the other end. A little shuffling, and then a frustrated-sounded slew of cursing.
“Damnit Taeil, that album went platinum in almost every country. That article would have gotten Jungwoo a spot in the New York Times if he wanted! He’s a fucking fool for dropping out.”
And now your mind was racing because the NYT had been your dream ever since your senior year of high school. Journalism was everything you loved and breathed, the fact making itself known when you worked on a newsletter for your school that year and realized how much you truly enjoyed the work of it. Managing to get a job at The Link barely a few months after you graduated from University was a feat in itself, but you had always loved dreaming big.
It seemed like Johnny was now done with the call because nothing more was being said. Remembering what you were there for in the first place, you readjusted your notes and knocked on the door politely.
You were one of the younger journalists at the paper, which also meant that you had mostly been assigned the less….appealing articles to work on. Things that no one ever read, the little pieces that were just there on the paper for decoration almost, but you still gave them your all.
You also knew that you were capable of much more.
“Come in.”
The usual jovial lilt that Johnny’s voice held was gone, now replaced with resignment over something he had clearly tried his best to avoid happening. You had a pretty good idea of what was going on by this point but didn’t want to jump to conclusions. A good journalist always did their research first.
Pushing the door open, you walked up to his desk where he sat, and placed your notes down, glancing up to meet his eyes.
Johnny Suh, editor-in-chief of The Link, was your boss. Graduating from a prestigious college and landing the job almost immediately after came with its perks, one of them being working directly under someone so high ranking. You supposed the flipside of being so lucky were the shitty topics you had been given to write about.
One thing you wanted to make very clear during this meeting was that you were just as good as your older colleagues. The editor was a no-nonsense type of guy, as easy-going as he was firm, so you knew you didn’t have to put on any frills or fancies to catch his attention.
“The notes from my last article,” You informed him gesturing towards the file you had put down on his desk. After he nodded, you narrowed your eyes at him. “What was that about?”
“What was what about?”
“Your call with Mr Moon,” You prompted, taking a seat on the usually empty chairs opposite him to relieve your feet from standing on those stilettos that you wore to work. He raised a disapproving eyebrow.
“I don’t appreciate my calls being listened in on.”
“A good journalist has ears everywhere,” You countered smoothly, knowing just want to say to gain the advantage. Johnny sighed, somewhat impressed at how quickly you had managed to justify your actions even though they weren’t something he approved of. Although new, you had never been one to back down from a challenge, no matter what the task given to you was and he respected it.
Which was why he decided to tell you what the call was about, however risky that was. Stretching his arms out in front of him, he rested them on the mahogany desk in front of him and put your notes to the side, finally looking at you and the determined look on your face.
“Jungwoo dropped the most important article we could ever lay our hands on,” He stated bitterly, visibly annoyed by this fact. “Do you know of Cherry Bomb?”
A stupid question. Practically everyone knew who Cherry Bomb was even if they didn’t want to. The band had taken the world by storm from their very first album and held it by the neck throughout, even four years later, claiming their spot as the hottest band of the decade. You weren’t a die-hard fan by any means, but you indulged in listening to their music on occasion because they were admittedly fantastic.
The mention of an album from earlier made a little more sense now. You nodded, eager to know where this was going.
“They’re going on tour soon,” He continued, “Jungwoo’s task was to accompany them and write an article on it. It might not sound like much, but with the pull that they have, anything written about them is considered excellent. It could have made his career as a journalist, but the idiot decided to drop out.”
The information he just dropped was pure gold to you. You could agree on one thing- Jungwoo was a complete imbecile for letting something like this slip through his fingers, but you also loved him for it.
“Give it to me,” You offered immediately, sitting up straight in the uncomfortable chair. It was the opportunity of a lifetime in your eyes and there was no way in hell you weren’t going to jump.
“Come again?”
“Give the piece to me,” You repeated, crossing your arms over each other and leaning back. “The Cherry Bomb one, I can do it.”
He frowned, “I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
You grimaced, disguising it poorly as you shook your head, determined. “Yes I am, I’m young enough to fit right in on a tour, and since I’m so new, unassuming enough to get all the details.”
Your points were valid because people loved someone unknown and small enough to be manipulated, a front you could put up to truly extract the information you needed. He shut his eyes for a moment, thinking it over before shaking his head once again.
“Y/n, I think you’re extremely talented, but-”
“But what?” You didn’t let him finish, refusing to leave the office without landing the article. “With all due respect, sir, cut the crap. The things I’ve been working on are stupid and unimportant, the last article you assigned to me was about lines outside of stores.”
You almost wished that wasn’t true, but it was. Because of it, you had been subjected to waking up early and walking about the city, interviewing random people who decided to spend their morning hours waiting outside a store for some sort of product- whether that be a new release of shoes, tickets for some sort concert, or even the new Cherry Bomb album.
You also knew you were pushing it because, for the most part, you were very respectful and careful about how you spoke with your colleagues, especially your boss, but you wanted to make sure he knew you meant business. Jungwoo’s trash would be your treasure.
He studied the expression your wore on your face and it told him that you weren’t going to back down in the slightest. Pressing his tongue to the side of his cheek, he contemplated your proposition. It would certainly make things easier, he wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of telling Taeil to pick someone else. One less thing to worry about.
“There's just….one thing.”
You waited patiently, knowing from experience that people tended to give out more information if you stayed quiet. It was human tendency to want to fill a silence and you knew just how to take advantage of that.
“There seems to be a lot of dirt around the frontman of the band,” He drummed his fingers on his desk. “Lee Taeyong.”
“What type of dirt?”
“The type of dirt that the public love. Messy rumours and stories that everyone wants to know the truth behind. This piece isn’t so much about the tour and the band as it is about him.”
So that’s why this was so important. “An exposé?”
“Not exactly,” He clarified, “He’s been in quite a few scandals and they’ve been covered several times, but this piece is just to see if he’s improved and to get the truth behind it all. The good thing about it is that it doesn’t have to be anything too groundbreaking. It could be an article praising them for all I know and it would still do fantastic.”
The smile on your face widened even more. He was giving you information and that meant that you practically had this in the bag. This piece was yours, you just had to tip him over the edge to get a formal ‘yes’ from him. “I’ll write the best article you’ve ever seen.”
He adjusted his position in his seat, “You’ll be gone for months and will have to travel with them throughout the entire tour. Are you okay with that?”
“More than okay,” You assured him quickly. If anything, the prospect of being able to travel around the world only made you want this more. From what you had gathered, this was your chance at boosting your career and making a name for yourself in the journalism industry, inching closer and closer to your goal.
“Fine,” Johnny relented, “I honestly don’t have the time to think about this any further, so I’m trusting you won’t let me down. It’s gonna be a big step up from lines.”
You scoffed, crossing your legs over each other and drumming your fingers on the side of the spinning chair you sat in. This wasn’t what you had come to his office for at all, but you were, by no means, complaining. On the contrary, you were ecstatic, because you knew that this was exactly what you needed.
“Once I’m done, you won’t even think about making me write about lines ever again.”
From the very moment Taeyong walked through the door, he could tell that Irene was beyond pissed.
It wasn’t a new sight to him, he had been subjected to an angry manager many, many times before, almost too many to count. Since he was so used to it, he didn’t pay her too much attention as he plopped down on the couch in the studio, lazily resting his arm on the armrest and propping his legs up on the table in front of it.
“He lives,” Yuta muttered under his breath, the slightest smile on his face. Taeyong let his eyes scan the room, noting that each one of the members of his band- and his best friends- were present. He had known most of them since they were wide-eyed teenagers in high school with big dreams. Now, even four years later, there was not another group of people he would rather be stuck with.
Yuta was the drummer and a damn good one at that, the type of person who could make a beat out of almost anything he was presented with. He felt the most comfortable when he was sitting behind his drums, drumsticks in hand.
“Were we having a party I wasn’t told about?”
The don’t-care-ish tone of his voice very visibly didn’t sit well with Irene, whose glare only grew in intensity. She slapped a tabloid of sorts on the wall beside her, lips pinched in a mixture of exasperation and anger.
“This is not a party, Taeyong. With your track record, you should never be allowed into one.” Her words were clipped and swift, but she had always been one to literally and figuratively rip the bandaid off. Unaffected, he pouted.
“Aw, what did I do now?” The moment he said that she held that very tabloid up for the entire band to squint at, and he could just about make out the headline of it.
“You,” she said the pronoun with such distaste that Taeyong had half a mind to act offended, but he knew better than that. If anything, he probably deserved the treatment she was dishing out to him right now. “Went and got caught by the paps a few nights ago, drunk as fuck with another girl hanging off your arm like candy.”
His eyes focused on the poorly taken picture that was plastered all over the front of the tabloid. As terrible as the photograph was, one thing that fame had taught him was that if you had fans, you could be recognized from just about anything, and it was definitely him on there.
He didn’t even remember the girl's name. Pity.
“You called us all here for this?” Doyoung cut through the silence, a disgruntled look on his face. Doyoung was on keys (synthesizer to be exact), but was somewhat of a prodigy, being able to master almost any instrument he put his mind to and could probably be his own band if he wanted to. He was also what you’d refer to as the responsible one of the group, the one with the least drama and frankly and no interest in it at all.
The other two in the band were Mark and Jeno, two guitarists that were excellent in their own right. Jeno was the youngest, and the only one that hadn’t known the rest since their high school days. They met the boy at the building of their label, and he blended in so well with the rest of the band that having him be a part of it had been a no-brainer decision to make.
“I was just having some fun,” Taeyong protested, “All the other guys do it as well.”
“Yes Taeyong, but they aren’t the front of the group, neither are they the media's favourite portrayal of a fuckboy, even if you live up to that title better than you should.” She snipped agitatedly, slapping the tabloid against the wall, prompting him to sigh.
That was what he was. Lee Taeyong, frontman, and the bassist. He was also one of the main vocalists, though the entire band did the singing as a team.
When he started out at the tender age of nineteen, he never expected to be thrust into the limelight as he had been. Managing to land the record deal when they were nothing more than wide-eyed kids with a dream was a miracle in itself, but what seemed like an overnight success was overwhelming.
He had taken on the role of something of a leader within the band, but it had come with its own set of rules. Being the face of the group meant that he received more attention than the others, something he had never been pleased about due to situations like this, but he had gotten used to it.
So what if he was known as the fuckboy?
He was the fuckboy that had several shiny awards under his name, and he was fine with owning it.
Enter Irene, their manager who had been with the group since day one. Now, she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, carefully so that her pointed nude-coloured acrylic nails wouldn’t dig into her perfect skin.
“Tour is coming up,” She warned sternly, “For once could you put on your big boy pants and behave? You have to be on your best behaviour.”
“Irene,” He drawled, “When am I not an angel?”
“Your halo looks a lot like devil horns from here,” She grumbled, shutting her eyes and mentally counting to ten. Despite all her complaining about their wild lifestyle, he knew she loved being with them too much to quit working for them. Taeyong grinned unabashedly, sinking further into the plush cushioning of the sofa to get comfortable.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Look, I mean it when I say I need you guys to be good on tour,” She explained. “It’s all of your chance of clearing your name to an extent. A journalist is accompanying us this time and one article that doesn’t talk about any of you being drunk or running out of a bar with yet another woman would be lovely for your image. We work our asses off to keep you out of shit so the least you could do is take advantage of this.”
She was speaking to the entire group, but Taeyong knew it was a message specifically for him. He was no stranger to the speech and was frankly pretty bored of it at this point. He always loved the spotlight, he had been made to be on stage and in the studio, but if there was one thing he despised about it all was how unfair the media could be.
Cherry Bomb was only four- almost five years old, but its popularity came with its drawbacks, one they had to get used to early on. Their lives weren’t normal in the slightest, but after experiencing it daily, it turned into the new normal.
“A journalist?” Jeno asked sceptically, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “I thought we kept the press off our asses during tour.”
The world tour, one to promote their latest album, Cherry On Top, and the most highly anticipated one of theirs yet. This was an important year for them, with the tour and the hope for Grammy nominations, everything had to go perfectly.
“Typically- yes- but Renjun and I both agree that this could be good for the band since it’s more of an observational piece.” She mentioned their publicist, who was miraculously somehow even more hot-headed than she was. Another person Taeyong was used to upsetting on the daily because it was their publicist's job to keep his fan image intact, and he always managed to disrupt that.
Irene glanced at him, a wary look on her face. “So please Taeyong, this is important, especially after what….has transpired.”
She didn’t have to elaborate at all because he knew exactly what she was talking about, all of them did. It brought a bitter taste to his tongue, but he swallowed it, forcing himself to give her his usual lazy smile.
“Of course, I’ll be good,” He promised, making a show of putting his hand over his heart as if he was swearing on it, dragging his index finger over the area in a crossing motion even though he knew well enough that it didn’t hold much weight, “I’ll let someone else have a chance to lash out. Give Doyoung a turn to be freaky.”
In response, the ever-serious Doyoung threw one of the pillows at him. Taeyong yelped, managing to catch it right in time before it fell to the floor, digging his fingers into the foam pillow to grip it better. The manager shook her head, tired of their childish antics.
Even with the nonchalant attitude he possessed and his quick wit, he wasn’t stupid, not in the slightest. The latest thing he had been accused of was not something to laugh about, but he had become pretty good at ignoring the paparazzi that he knew he’d manage to get out of it easily enough- he had to.
For the band.
It started to hit you that this was really happening when you found yourself standing alone in one of the tour buses.
There were four of them in total, one for the band, the manager, the publicist and you and three for the staff. You had arrived early to get a feel for everything and settle in so that you weren’t completely lost. All the buses were parked as of now, waiting for their occupants to arrive.
In the few weeks that you had to prepare, you had done intensive research. You knew each of their names and their roles in the band, you had listened to some of their music to familiarise yourself with it, making sure that you weren’t going to be tagging along like some sort of wide-eyed kid.
You were a professional, and you were going to make sure you seemed like one.
“Who the hell are you?”
You whipped your head around to see a man standing there with a perplexed look on his face. He was staring at you like you were some sort of criminal who had broken into the vehicle, and so to dispute this possible theory, you cleared your throat to introduce yourself.
“I’m doing a piece for The Link? The journalist?” You prompted in hopes that it would jog his memory as you walked over and held your hand out. “Y/n L/n.”
Recognition flashed through his eyes as he took your hand and shook it firmly, nodding. “Right, Huang Renjun, I’m Cherry Bombs publicist. Sorry about that, but catching a crazed fan who managed to sneak in the last tour is enough to get someone paranoid.”
Jesus Christ. You shook your head, a little surprised at that tidbit of new information. You weren’t a part of the majority who did listen to the band religiously, so you didn’t know much about the fan culture at all, but from the looks of it, it seemed to be pretty crazed.
“Don’t worry about it,” You assured him, giving him a warm smile so that he’d feel more at ease around you. In the back of your mind, you made a mental note to try and keep him out of your way as much as possible, because a publicist's job, along with the managers, is to make sure that their client looks good at any given moment.
For this reason alone, it was quite unfortunate that you had been assigned to share a living space with them over the next five months. Your job was to get the most authentic version of the truth that you possibly could, while theirs was to project the perfect image. The contradiction was going to be tough to work around, but you would somehow have to make it work.
You were only accompanying them for the North American leg of the tour, which meant that after those five months they would be leaving for another three months to finish the rest of the shows.
“Well, you’re pretty early,” He observed, scanning the inside of the bus. “The guys have just arrived with Irene, so if you want to meet them you can go do that now.”
You thanked him politely and left the bus, giving him time to settle in by himself. Since it was the first time you would be meeting them, there was no reason to take your phone with you to record any sort of interview (something you’d have to do during the course of the tour). For now, all you needed to do was get acquainted with the people you would be dealing with.
Walking out to the front, you saw a group of people conversing. The woman was instructing the rest of them- presumably staff- where they had to go. Off to her side was an even smaller group of just four people, but you knew who they were the moment you set your eyes on them.
Cherry Bomb.
Sucking in a deep breath, you psyched yourself up for what was to come. When the larger group dispersed, you decided that it would be a good time to finally meet your topic.
The heels of your boots clicked on the gravelled floor as you made your way over, rehearsing what you were going to say in your head. Confidence was another thing that was crucial in your line of work since most of the time, journalists had to put themselves in the thick of their work. Experience what they were writing upfront just like you were supposed to.
Other than your love for writing, it was your love for travel that pulled you into journalism. Growing up in a middle-class family meant that you had lived a fairly comfortable life with a roof over your head and a warm plate of food on the table, but it didn’t include the extravagant holidays abroad that you had seen all your friends go on. You were stuck at home every summer while they experienced a part of the world that they had never been to before. You knew that some articles would require you to travel, which meant that you could do what you truly loved.
Like now. This tour was possibly the best thing that could have ever happened to you because it was five whole months of travelling. Granted, you wouldn’t be able to fully enjoy every single destination, but it was better than nothing at all.
The woman turned around and spotted you, asking a question before you even had the chance to speak. “Are you the journalist?”
“Pleased to meet you, I am,” You continued as smoothly as you could, even though she had completely thrown you off by being so abrupt. Clearly, she was much more prepared than the publicist. Looking away from her, you eyed the boys that stood beside her before realizing something.
One was missing.
“Right well, this is Doyoung, Yuta, Jeno, Mark, and I would introduce you to Taeyong, but he’s late.” The unamused tone of voice that she used told you that it wasn’t the first time the mentioned man had been late, but you brushed past it, smiling courteously at the other members that were present at that moment.
You introduced yourself once again, noting each one of them. Of course, you knew who they were already, you had made sure to memorize who was who so you’d have an easier time working.
For world-famous rockstars, they weren’t really all that intimidating. One of them- Jeno you remembered- returned your smile cheerfully, his eyes turning into little crescents of joy. It was honestly kind of cute and the others greeted you in the same way, welcoming. The politeness of your simper almost turned into something genuine, but that would have been far too much for a first encounter.
Doyoung’s expression, however polite, was doused in scrutiny towards you, but you couldn’t blame him. It was warranted.
Stay professional, you repeated silently to yourself. As lovely as they might be, this is a job, you’re not here to make friends. They knew you were supposed to be there, they were used to the attention.
Still, maybe making friends with them would be a good idea. If there was a level of trust between all of you, you’d effectively be able to get much more out of them-
“Must you always start without me?”
Your thoughts scattered almost immediately at the sound of the new voice like someone had thrown them out into the wind before you could even protest against it. The smooth, low tone of it went straight to your stomach and no one had ever been able to do that before.
You looked to your side to see who it belonged to, lips parting when you noticed the new face.
Dark messy hair that had a hint of red in it and intense eyes, crimson lips that had no doubt had thousands of teenage girls around the globe wishing they could press a kiss on them, he stood there in all his glory. He donned a jacket over a simple tee shirt and jeans, but there was just something about the way he carried himself that made it seem like more, one of those rare, enigmatic specimens of humankind.
Lee Taeyong.
And god, he was exceptionally beautiful. The music videos you had watched didn’t do him justice.
You didn’t even need the woman to tell you who he was, because you knew him very well, or at the very least, you knew most of the surface-level stuff. While you had done your digging into all the members, it was him who you had focused the most upon due to the tip Johnny had given you. He was the actual reason you were here.
“We wouldn’t if you showed up on time,” She scowled. He seemed completely unfazed at this.
“Cut me some slack Irene, I left on time. There was traffic, including a swarm of fans outside my house.” He grimaced at that last bit, like the fresh memory of it was too much for him.
You had to take back your previous statement of them not being intimidating because Taeyong definitely was. His dark brown irises slowly swept over the group, deliberately even, and came to rest on you. A cocky smile rested on those lips of his and intrigue entered his eyes as he studied you.
Most of your intel was public knowledge. His name, the fact that he was twenty-three and had been in the spotlight since he was just nineteen, which was by normal standards, barely a freshman in college. Of course, nothing about him was normal at all, but it was the comparison you had chosen to remember the fact.
And then there were the more interesting things. All the scandals he had managed to get pulled into, the way his name seemed to ghost every major celebrity slip up. From being caught on the regular with a new supposedly unsuspecting girl wrapped around his little finger to being caught drunk in Vegas, it was all too amusing to read.
Then you found something that put all of those measly scandals to shame. This? This was the real deal.
Superstar Lee Taeyong Sleeping His Way to the Top?
From the moment you spotted the article, you knew you had to know more. It wasn’t something that could be easily brushed to the side like the other rumours, it was a serious accusation that could potentially involve a nasty court case if it rippled out of control. Fortunately, there wasn’t much evidence for now.
It seemed like the writer of it knew this very well because they had remained anonymous. Worse, it had gotten a lot of attention from major media outlets and all of them started pointing out how quickly the band had managed to gain popularity and hit the charts. It seemed to fall into place perfectly.
But you knew how the media worked, you knew that anyone and everyone would pounce on the chance to sell a story, and this wasn’t any different. You knew that the real thing- the truth- was often much simpler to explain. Most of the time, it was a far cry from what was being thrown around by tabloids and newspapers.
And you were going to figure out exactly that.
“And you are?” He inquired after a minute or so, the weight of his gaze had you rooted to the spot, cheeks warming. Even though this was the third time that day you would be introducing yourself, something about it felt a little different. Part of you was dying to find out if he was like they said, the other part wanted to know the person beneath that.
“Y/n,” You said slowly, “I’m a journalist doing a piece about the band and the tour.”
That infuriatingly attractive smirk on his face never faltered as he nodded. “Lovely to meet you, I hope we’re interesting enough.”
He hadn’t even bothered to tell you who he was like he somehow knew you had come prepared. You pressed your lips together, caught off guard with how self-assured he was, but also very intrigued.
“I’m sure you are.”
Somehow, Taeyong was everything you had expected and nothing like it at all.
The first night consisted of travelling, shouts on the bus you were staying on and music being played. You made small talk with the band, mostly Jeno, and sometimes with Renjun, but mostly watched from the sidelines. You joined them for dinner and laughed under your breath at the bickering between Doyoung and Taeyong and the sarcastic comment Yuta made about them in the passing.
You were surprisingly comfortable around all of them and your polite smile turned into a genuine one throughout the evening. Part of you was glad about that, the entire ordeal would be much easier to deal with if you weren’t constantly guarded.
It was the day of the first show of the Cherry On Top tour, the Chicago one, which was where you had woken up that day on the bus. You had never seen a more efficient set of staff as they quickly worked to set up the stage for the show that evening, from special effects to lighting, they worked hard to create a show the fans would remember and love.
Currently, you sat in the empty stadium, smack dab in the middle with an excellent view of the stage where the band was rehearsing. Even though it was just a simple rehearsal where they only ran through their songs and made adjustments when needed, it was still fascinating to watch their process.
The stage was huge, and even though there were dancers to fill up the space, the five men managed to dominate the entire thing, their presence striking and eye-catching.
It was also becoming increasingly obvious why Taeyong was the frontman of the group. He stood in the middle, guitar in hand as he sang into the mic, managing to grasp the entirety of your attention. The others were jaw-dropping as well, but there was something about him that was so entrancing that you couldn’t look away.
You told yourself that it was because you had to pay attention to him, nothing more, but he was a hard person not to pay attention to.
Soon, they called for a break, leaving their instruments on stage to come back to later. You didn’t move, however, staying nestled comfortably in your seat as you intently watched all of this take place. After all, the major part of your job was to observe, the smaller, much more important bit would only come with time but you weren’t too worried about it considering you had months to figure that out.
It kind of felt like you were on vacation and part of you wanted to get up and offer help, feeling very out of place as you saw everyone else running about, but you had to stop yourself from doing so. It wasn’t your place, and you’d have something to write by the third week of the tour for sure.
“Enjoying the show?”
You startled slightly, looking up to see Taeyong standing to the side of your seat, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. Once you had acknowledged his presence, he settled down in the seat next to you, legs slightly spread as he stretched his arms in front of him.
“The best show I’ve been to,” You said with a small grin, truthful. “And the only one.”
Surprise took over those pretty features of his. “You’ve never been to a concert?” He spoke like you had committed some sort of cardinal sin, blasphemy even.
“Nope,” You popped the p, shaking your head. The truth was that you would have killed to have gone to one as a kid, but just like travelling really hadn’t ever been in the cards for you, neither had a concert. You had had several artists you loved, but concert tickets were expensive, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ask your parents if you could get any.
“The first time I went to one was when I was fourteen.” His eyes were trained on the stage, the nostalgic look in them catching your attention. You sat up a little straighter, ready to drink in the information he was about to give you. “It was the moment I knew I wanted to do that for the rest of my life.”
“Something tells me you never go back on your word.” You acknowledged. Almost ten years later, he was doing exactly what he had promised himself he would and you admired the hell out of it.
“I don’t,” He hummed in confirmation, before finally looking back at you. “So, what do you think? About our performance, I mean.”
You thought about it for a moment before you answered him. “I think I’ll wait until the actual performance till I form an opinion, so it’s the most accurate, but so far I think you guys are amazing.”
Taeyong raised an eyebrow as if to say he didn’t believe that, “You don’t already have an opinion?”
“Was I supposed to?” You countered back, holding his gaze. You had interviewed plenty of people before, but never had you challenged them back- it wasn’t your job. What you were set to do was to gather information and string that information into something to be read, so you couldn’t quite explain why you had become so bold all of a sudden.
A slow, languid smile spread on his mouth as he studied your face like he held a secret that no one else knew and it amused him.
“People like you always have opinions.”
“People like me?”
“Journalists,” He said simply, and you would have been offended if you didn’t know he was right. The celebrity world thrived on opinions, they were the fuel to the ever-burning fire, fanning it day in and day out so it would never die.
And you knew for a fact that he had been subjected to the majority of all those opinions, some less civil than others. It should have been enough for him to be completely reclusive towards you, yet, he was somehow so calm around you and had even made the effort to come up there and talk to you.
He was really something, you concluded, something you wanted to figure out.
“I prefer to have sight of the entire picture instead of drawing assumptions from thin air.” You chose your words carefully. “That work for you?”
The look in his eyes softened a little into something more genuine and he nodded, agreeing with you. “You’re going to base your opinion off of a performance that you view backstage?”
“I got a frontstage view from here, and the best part is that it’s without all the screaming fans.”
“I love it when we walk on stage and the entire stadium is screaming,” He admitted with a faraway look in his eyes. “It’s invigorating, sometimes we can’t even hear the music in our earpieces because of it.” You could tell that the band had a very strong bond just from the way he spoke about them- it was almost a little envy-inducing if you were being honest.
He let out a soft sigh, tapping his fingers absentmindedly against the plastic handrest of the seat. “But there’s something magical about empty stadiums too, the silence is…deafening almost, but in the best way possible. All this silence is somehow filled by the evening, and I didn’t realize how much that meant until I experienced it first hand.”
He still hadn’t looked away, and the air between the two of you shifted ever so slightly like you had gone from strangers to acquaintances.
Maybe more. It wasn’t rocket science for anyone to notice the interest you held in him- professional or not- neither was it hard to pick up on his effort to come to talk to you.
“I can never choose if I like the emptiness or the full one more,” He confessed quietly to you, and it was only then you realized how close he was. For some reason, even though that little bit of information wasn’t anything groundbreaking, it felt important. He felt more real than any other person you had ever interviewed had, and that sounded cold in a way, but that was just how it was.
(Then again, your most fantastic piece until this point had been about people standing in lines-er - not something you were entirely proud of.)
“Maybe you don’t have to choose,” You muttered, your voice somehow sounding louder than it actually was. “Maybe you can have it all.”
It was only then that he looked away, scoffing slightly under his breath. The spell was broken, snapping you out of the slight trance he had managed to put you under, and you pressed your lips together, watching as his demeanour changed in the blink of an eye.
“In our world? No one can have it all.”
The opening act had just finished and the crowd was riled up, excited for the main event coming up. Kim Hyoyeon, a rising pop-rock star, was said to be amazing on stage and she definitely lived up to it, giving the fans exactly what they wanted and just enough to prepare them for what was to come.
Backstage was the epitome of chaos, you couldn’t keep track of anything that was happening at any given point in time. You didn’t know how Irene managed to stay so calm the entire time, but you chalked it up to her being used to the commotion. The look on her face was serene as she dished out instructions without even breaking a sweat.
Of course, it was a different story when the boys actually emerged from their greenrooms with make-up artists flocking them to touch up their make-up. They looked fantastic, feeding into their signature rocker look with the leather jackets and ripped jeans that drove the crowd wild.
Each outfit was different but tied together well regardless, making them look like the perfect team.
And for some reason, you lingered on Taeyong, who donned a red leather jacket that matched his hair over a black vest that was loosely buttoned over leather pants. To top it off, several pretty earrings hung from his ear piercings, the icing on the cake. He was the type of guy who stood out and was gorgeous in every situation, but with the way, his hair was styled and make-up was done, that attribute of his was elevated.
In short, Lee Taeyong was hot as hell, and you were willing to bet on the fact that he knew it.
“You’re on in five,” Irene warned them and like clockwork, they all made their way towards a part of the stage that had been previously lowered down with all their instruments arranged on it. Yuta took his place behind the drums, Doyoung behind the keyboard and Mark, Jeno and Taeyong picked up their respective guitars. Then they gathered together and put their hands together, saying something before yelling out the name of their band. A pre-show ritual, you presumed.
Just as they did, Taeyong glanced back and somehow spotted you throughout the chaos. The side of his mouth curled up into a wry smirk as he adjusted his guitar in his hands and mouthed.
‘Enjoy the show.’
Hyoyeon returned backstage and it was then when the part of the stage that they were standing on began to slowly rise. You could hear the screams of the fans get louder with every passing second as the band emerged for them to see. To you, however, they dulled out due to the fact that you were still caught up in the fact that he chose to look at you.
Oh lord. What on earth were you thinking? You had known this man for a grand total of three days give or take, and even saying you knew him was a stretch.
But you did. You knew far too much.
The music began, loud and intense, you could feel it in your stomach even backstage. You could just about hear their voices and how well they blended with each other, having much more energy and stage presence than they did in the afternoon. After all, this was the real deal, the real show.
The first show of the tour was today, and the tour itself would last from May to the beginning of September. It was the kickstart, the show they had to start with an absolute bang to set the tone for the rest of it. Even though you couldn’t see them out there, you were kind of glad you decided to wait before forming a proper opinion to present to Taeyong. You could tell that they were one hell of a band just from listening to them play.
You didn’t get to see them during the twenty-second breaks they got to change outfits, but you could see the commotion that followed with the staff running around with the clothes and water bottles with straws in them. The scene jerked you to reality and reminded you that you were supposed to be noting things down to write about.
All you had been doing was enjoying and basking in the feeling the concert was giving you, but you weren’t getting paid to write about your feelings, were you?
Definitely not.
It was over just as quickly as it began and you were envious of those sitting outside that were able to watch the show and take it in its entirety. Now, you had to put together what you remembered from the rehearsal with what you could hear from where you were with your imagination. It wasn’t like you had a terrible imagination or anything of the sort, quite the opposite. What you were a little afraid of was that if you ever did get the opportunity to see the show, it wouldn’t live up to what you had concocted in your mind.
That was ridiculous because what you were here to do was to tell the truth, not to hope for something else. And besides, you were sure that it would be positively out of this world.
They walked backstage as the show ended, grins painting their faces with pride at what they had just done. A smile of your own made its way onto your face as you watched them saunter out. Yuta raised a closed fist in the air with a triumphant look and the rest follow suit after him.
Backstage erupted in cheers for the successful first show and you were quickly pulled in to celebrate with them, even though you had nothing to do with it. For once, even Irene allowed herself to smile at Taeyong, which was a rare sight on the observation of the constant glares she sent his way and the expression of pleasant surprise on his face.
But then she said something to him and the happy look in his eyes dulled out ever so slightly, no one else would have caught it. He swallowed and then turned to look at you from across the room as she continued to speak. He dropped his eyes and nodded and she smiled again, patting his shoulder and walking away.
You didn’t know why, but suddenly you had the strong urge to try and reinstall the look he had before she said whatever she did that managed to take it away. The feeling was quick and rushed but strong and without even thinking you began walking over to do just that.
“My opinion remains,” You said after clearing your throat. For a split second, the usual self-assured look that he possessed wasn’t there, but just as quickly as it had disappeared, it was back. He raised an expectant eyebrow, prompting you to continue.
“The best show I’ve ever been to,” You repeated your words from earlier. “Even if I didn’t get to properly watch it.”
He was amused, you could tell from the way he was looking at you. Something about it had a flame alight in the pit of your stomach and you were mystified by it because it had never happened before, for you weren’t the type of girl who was easily flustered or affected by simply a look given in your direction by a pretty boy.
You were usually good at deciphering what you felt, but this time you were at a loss, grasping at any semblance of an idea for what it could be that your mind presented to you.
Taeyong leaned over a little, “You will one day.”
And with that he strolled off, disappearing once again behind the doors of his green room. Once he was out of sight, you let out a breath that you didn’t even know you had been holding in and grabbed one of the water bottles from the table, unscrewing it and taking a large gulp.
Thinking was turning out to be dangerous, but for some reason, you didn’t want to stop.
~
“This isn’t water.”
Taeyong held out the plastic bottle he had taken from the mini fridge on the tour bus in front of his face, before throwing a confused look at his bandmates. It was only them who were awake then, still high off the adrenaline rush the show had given them, while everyone else was sleeping in the upstairs section of the bus.
“It’s not,” Mark confirmed without even looking up from his laptop. “It’s vodka.”
He wasn’t surprised, and shrugged, taking another swig of the drink and settling down on the couch. Smuggling alcohol onto the bus wasn’t a first, they had been doing so since before they were even legally allowed to drink, and although he was sure their manager knew about it, over time she found it easier to just let it slide. The number of things one could get away with when they were famous was astounding, some things better than others.
“I’m surprised you’re here with us and not at some bar,” Doyoung cut into the conversation, squinting at his friend. Taeyong frowned lightly at that statement and how it made him sound, even though he knew band mates didn’t think of him like that.
“I do that when we have a few days in the city, not if we’re travelling straight away.”
Doyoung must have noticed the slight clench in Taeyong’s jaw because he continued. “There’s nothing wrong with it, I just thought you were following Irene’s orders. Best behaviour and shit for Y/n.”
Taeyong sighed and took another large sip of the vodka. This conversation was reminding him far too much of the brief one he had had with his manager right after his show, something he really didn’t want to think about.
“It’s started perfectly Taeyong, don’t ruin it.”
Irene’s cold gaze was trained on him, making sure every word had sunken in because she was right, unfortunately. The first show had been a roaring success, good enough to drown out the rumour that had clung onto his skin more than anything ever had.
“You might not think it, because she wasn’t the reporter we were expecting to be tagging along, but she is watching. Don’t be fooled.” She warned, before patting his shoulder twice to make up for her harsh words. Encouragement on the smallest scale.
The moment she said that Taeyong looked at you. He didn’t know how he could feel you already watching him from where you were, but it only solidified what she had said about you, as much as he didn’t want to believe it. You were different from the press he had to deal with on the daily, you were genuine- or at least, that’s how he perceived you.
He hoped he was right because not even a moment you walked up to him and said something that had a smile threatening to break out on his face. He liked the fact you seemed different and he wanted it to be true, to be pleasantly surprised for once.
Scandals- he didn’t give two shits about them. Stressing over them was a waste of time, for the most part, created by a reporter that needed a little boost to their name because they were bad at actually finding credible information. They were rumours that were taken way out of proportion and everyone in the business was a goddamn hypocrite.
So he went out for a drink? Big fucking deal, everyone did that. He would never understand how he got backlash for letting loose once in a while when millions of people around the globe did the exact same thing, sometimes more so than he did. The media loved exaggerating and more often than not, taking things out of proportion when there was no need to.
Most of the time he ignored them and went on with his life, getting obsessed and tied down to people’s flaky opinions was a waste of time he didn’t have. Every week there would be a new picture of him in some magazine somewhere in the world with a new incriminating thing to add to his name, even if he truly hadn’t done anything.
It was a never-ending cycle.
But this time….this time pretending to be oblivious wouldn’t work. One little article had blown way out of proportion to the point where he expected a question about it from every reporter that managed to step in his way. It was maddening at this point, he didn’t want to be judged for the way he spent his nights, he wanted to be judged for his music.
The worst part about it was the weight it held and the fact that it could drag the band down with him.
Which was why he wanted you to be different. Your eyes didn’t have that hungry, vindictive look he was so used to, you looked more authentic than all the fraudulent people he had to grin and bear with on the daily.
Unfortunately, reality had no place for that type of useless, hollow hope, so he had no choice but to be on his best behaviour to make sure that you wrote only good things. Even if it was all fake, he had to get on your good side for the sake of the other four people that would be dragged down with him if he didn’t.
“Yeah,” Taeyong mumbled as the alcohol kissed his throat with a burning sensation he so often turned to for comfort. “Gotta keep up appearances.”
Nakomoto Yuta was charming with his long, unruly hair and Cheshire cat grin. One mere glance at him would have you know that he was a force to be reckoned with, a force that many would die to have with them in their beds and he couldn’t deny the fact that he had his fair share of nightly fun.
He was a realist and a cynic, two qualities you generally enjoyed in a person, especially a subject. It made it easier to get the truth out of them.
So to your immense surprise, you were extremely bored.
Now, it wasn’t to say that he wasn’t an interesting person- he absolutely was. You knew an interview with him would also cash in the big bucks, but you were greedy and ambitious. You had your eyes on a different prize, the biggest fish in the pond.
Taeyong, of course.
To you, he was much more interesting. As real as Yuta was, Taeyong was guarded, he knew exactly how much to give the public and what to say. Over the past few shows you had spoken with him pretty often, striking up an odd friendship of sorts, but every interaction left more to be wanted from it. He challenged you back and left you thinking about what you had given and what you had taken.
The truce between the two of you had begun the day of the first show when both of you sat in that empty stadium and he told you his motivations for becoming what he was today. It benefited you nicely because you didn’t have to scour around and beg for details.
It didn’t mean that you didn’t have to work for it, though, because you definitely did. The talk between you two was mundane at most, everyday things. The type of coffee he liked, on which he would turn around and ask you the same question. More than anything, it was a trade-off, bartering on both ends.
Even so, you found yourself more interested in those little snippets of facts than the little interview you were holding with Yuta right now, and you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out why.
“Y/n? Are you even listening to me?”
You quickly looked at Yuta, whose eyes were filled with dancing mirth at your unattentiveness. He didn’t seem offended though, and you winced. “Sorry, I kind of got lost in my thoughts there.”
“Anyone could have seen that, you’re boring the pretty lady Nakamoto.”
Speak of the devil, Taeyong himself stood there, leaning against one of the walls of the bus as he looked at you. You had no idea how you didn’t notice him come him, simply because he was the type of person you couldn’t not notice. Rolling your eyes, you adjusted yourself on the sofa and turned back to Yuta.
“You’ve been with me for two hours or so now,” You said, gathering your things. “I think we can stop for today, thank you for your time, Yuta.”
The literal translation to your words: This is just a formality.
He didn’t have to know that though and smiled, nodding. “Yeah, no problem. You’re nice to talk to, unlike some other reporters I’ve had to deal with. One stalked me for three weeks.” He groaned at the memory and ran a hand through his hair, lips pinched in displeasure. You cringed at how bad that made the people in your line of work sound.
“We’re not all like that,” You started timidly, not knowing where the sudden urge to defend them- or perhaps yourself. Taeyong scoffed from where he stood, intruding a little on the discussion and smiled.
“No Y/n, it’s the other way around,” He corrected you swiftly. “They’re not all like you.”
It was a compliment, one that had heat curling around your neck and up to your face. It made you feel like he was fond of you, at least a little bit, and you liked that thought. You got to your feet to retreat to the little part of the tour bus that you called your own upstairs, knowing that you were going to have to go over the recording you has taken of your interview with Yuta and pick out the few things you would be using for your article.
“When will you be interviewing me?” He asked, indulging in his curiosity as you made your way to the stairs, piling your tape recorder on top of your notebook, which sat atop your laptop. Somehow, you managed to balance a pen on top of that as well, along with your phone.
Taking note of the tower in your hands that was probably going to fall any minute now, he reached out and took your journal and recording out from on top of it, held it for you like it was the most natural thing to do and ushered you to start moving. A little surprised, you mumbled a small thanks as you began ascending the steps.
“Soon,” You said finally after thinking over it for a bit, finally making it up to the top floor, walking over to your bit of it, which was right at the end.
“....Soon?”
You repeated the word, confirming. “Soon.”
“Why not now?”
God, he loved asking questions, didn’t he? Specifically questions you did not have any answers to at any given moment, and you shrugged.
“You’re a famous person. Aren’t you like, busy?”
A mischievous smile made a show on his gorgeous face as he put your things down on your bed and leaned against the frame, hands tucked into his pockets. “For you? Never.”
You stiffened at his words, staring at him in bewilderment because that sounded like he was flirting with you. It really did, but even the sheer thought of that was absurd. He couldn’t have been flirting with you, right?
Oh, who were you kidding? If the papers had anything to say about it (and you best believe that they had a lot), it would be that Taeyong flirted with anything had possessed a pulse. The moment you remembered this, you proceeded to mentally chastise yourself for trusting those sources. It wasn’t fair to him.
“I was going to go over my notes and recording from Yuta’s but….I don’t want to,” You confessed sheepishly.
“Aha, so he did bore you.”
“Of course not, I’m just lazy right now.”
He didn’t believe you for a second, but let it slide anyway, watching as you arranged all your things neatly one on top of another again and pushed it to the side. “Okay, then let me interview you.”
To this, you raised a questioning eyebrow, not quite knowing where he was going with this. “I’m sorry?”
“I’ve always been curious about how it is to be on the other side, and since you don’t want to do what you have to, you can use this as a reason to procrastinate and blame me.” He bargained, taking a seat on the leisure seat opposite your bed and leaning into it. “Surely you can sit through answering a few questions when you make us go through it all the time.”
You silently laughed at his reasoning, finding it a tad eccentric. “It’s my job to ask the questions, Taeyong, and it’s yours to answer them, not the other way around.”
His lips twitched at your attempt to push him away considering he could tell you were almost completely on board with the idea. “It’s my job to make music and perform, not tell the world the last celebrity I fucked.”
You nearly choked on your tongue at how crude he was with his wording, coughing abruptly and covering your mouth with your palm. How he spoke about it so freely, you would never understand, and your fingers brushed against the warm skin of your cheeks, telling you that you were not used to it.
Taeyong cocked his head to the side in mock innocence at the reaction he managed to elicit from you. You were absolutely adorable and so damn inexperienced when it came to the world he lived in because of how different yours was.
“What? Isn’t that what everyone wants to know?” He drawled, and you rolled your eyes in an attempt to shrug off the effect he had on you.
The answer you settled for was cautious, one that you could play off easily without thinking of your heated cheeks at how blunt he was. “You think very highly of yourself.”
“Why are you a journalist?”
He dropped the previous topic, going straight to asking you a question you hadn’t expected, though now that you thought about it, it was an obvious one. Blinking slowly, you bit the inside of your cheek, “Because I love writing, obviously, and I want to work at the New York Times one day.”
“Is that it?” Disbelief coated every syllable.
“Must there be more?”
“You know damn well there is,” He chuckled, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. You sat down directly opposite him. “No one becomes something because of one flimsy reason, I can tell you that much. I didn’t form a band and get a record deal just because I love music. Of course, I love music, but I also love performing and hearing all those fans scream because of it. I love sharing that music with the world and I won’t give you any of that ‘I’m not in it for the fame’ bullshit. I love every second of it.”
He’s blunt, you noted mentally, storing the information in the back of your mind for later. Although he was the one asking you the questions this time around, he was also giving you little pieces of him. Somehow, it made the process more gratifying.
There was silence for a few seconds after that, leaving you with bated breath. Every time someone asked you the reason you had taken up journalism, you gave them the textbook answer, one that they expected. It was true, of course, there wasn’t a single thing you’d rather do than this, because you did love it.
And then there's the less known answer. One that you didn’t indulge in all that often because it seemed like an afterthought on your tongue. The fact that he could see right through you and figure out that there was something else to do with your career choice scared you a little.
“Travel,” You confessed softly, “I wanted to…see the world, even if it meant a work trip.”
He was the first person you had ever told about this secret desire of yours because every other time you pondered telling it to someone, it sounded rather silly. Even now, as you pronounced it on your tongue, the fire over the wish burned dimly at best, in fear of being pushed down and discredited for it.
He didn’t make fun of you, though, only furrowing his eyebrows. “Wow. I kind of feel bad for you.”
“I’m sorry?”
“We’ve been to what-? Five different places now? And all you’ve seen in the inside of a stadium and greenrooms. That’s a pretty shitty way to see the world if you ask me.”
“I’ll take what I get.” You shrugged, once again adjusting the setup of your materials beside you until you were satisfied. “You do it all the time.”
“That’s not the same,” he argued ardently, but then dropped the topic altogether, not wanting to come across as overbearing in any way. “Thanks for the insightful information Y/n, I think I’d be an excellent journalist.” There was a particular sparkle in his eyes when he said that, like all the precious jewels in the world had taken sanctuary in them.
You watched him retreat downstairs, leaving you to your own devices and thoughts, ones that were much too loud for your liking.
There were many things that had angered his hot-headed manager in the past, and many of those times led to him being the unfortunate and unwarranted receiver of her fury. Over time, he had gotten used to it and took it in good sport, but he would never forget the very first time it happened.
It had been after one of their first talk-show interviews when their journey together as a band had just kicked off, having gathered a substantial following and fanbase for being so new to the music scene. They were being escorted out of the building and into their cars after a successful interview.
They still hadn’t gotten used to the feeling of being swarmed by fans and paparazzi and were left in a mixture of shock and awe as they exited the building, immediately hit with the screams of fans begging for even a glance in their direction. Several reporters aggregated around them, pushing past the boundaries that their bodyguards had tried to set for their safety to thrust a microphone in their faces and yell out their questions.
Renjun went over what they had to do when presented with situations like these every time they went out to promote their music when they were industry babies. Taeyong stayed close to the rest of his band mates, walking right behind Yuta with Jeno sandwiched between him and Doyoung who stood towards the back. They had always been fiercely protective of the youngest.
He was acutely aware of the bodyguard that walked by his side, his hands outstretched around the group to shield them from the unruly audience. Just as their publicist told them, he flashed the reporters a polite smile so as to not suddenly be on the top ten rudest celebrities list, and then looked down at his feet, avoiding all eye contact with the cameras.
Rule number one about being famous; you could never be too careful.
But he was only nineteen, artless and spontaneous in everything he did. A reporter yelled out his name so loud that he looked up out of instinct, meeting the culprit's eyes quickly.
And then a camera- or was it one of those dratted microphones?- knocked into the side of his face by his right eye so hard that he visibly winced at the sharp sting of pain that followed. His eyes screwed shut as he flinched away, almost stumbling right into Mark, who yelped softly in surprise.
He heard Irene yelling infuriated at whoever had done that and the bodyguard moved so that he was covering Taeyong even more. Opening just one eye, he got into the backseat of the car and groaned softly, bringing his fingers up to the place that hurt to somehow assess the situation.
“Dude, you okay? Holy shit-” Mark's voice cut off midway.
Taeyong opened both of his eyes and stared in annoyance and bewilderment at the red stain that coated the tips of his fingers. Irene slipped inside, muttering profanities at the wildness of the paparazzi when she noticed him staring at his hand, and then at the cut on his face.
“Oh for fucks sake!” She all but growled, startling Jeno who was situated beside her. “I didn’t expect you to start bleeding from that.”
He glanced up at his manager, who wore a not-so-flattering glower on her face, taking her phone out and furiously jamming in a few numbers until the contact she desired popped up. Doyoung handed Taeyong a tissue to wipe his hands, his eyebrows furrowing in silent concern, but he shook his head, assuring his friend he was fine.
“You should have been more careful,” Irene snapped, holding the phone to her ear. “I hope that heals soon.”
“It’s not that bad, it doesn’t even hurt anymore,” He remembered reasoning with her. “I think it was just the shock that got to me.”
“It doesn’t matter if it hurts or not, Taeyong, you guys have an editorial shoot next week,” Her words made him freeze. “You have to look perfect.”
That was when it hit him- what her distress was truly about. She hadn’t stopped to ask if he was alright or if he was hurt badly, those things didn’t matter to her as their manager. What she cared about was if he would look good enough for a photoshoot coming up because that was where her priorities lay.
“I suppose the make-up artists can cover it up for now,” She muttered indignantly, before launching into an animated conversation with whoever she had called. Taeyong swallowed the lump in his throat and slumped in his seat every so slightly, admittedly hurt over the realisation that dawned upon him that day.
But it was an important lesson for him to learn, one he carried forward with him as the band got bigger and more famous than anyone thought was possible. When the swarms of cameramen got even larger and the photoshoots increased in number, he made sure to follow Renjun’s instructions to the T.
Everything about celebrities was taken at face value. This was the cold, hard truth that he had to learn to live with because of how literal it was, because of how cosmetic and fake most things were.
They used makeup on the cut for a few months to cover it up, until it healed incompletely into a small, almost unnoticeable scar, serving as a reminder every time he forgot about how his new world worked.
You were slowly getting accustomed to the after-show routine that happened every time. Cherry Bomb would retreat backstage, accompanied by the dying yelling of fans experiencing post-concert depression. They would be handed water bottles and would walk around for a bit, hugging staff and accepting congratulations, before finally deciding to retreat to the bus. You had mostly memorized the sequence of events after seeing it happen so many times.
Which is exactly why you were so bewildered right now when none of that happened.
This time, all five of them seemed to be in a rush, wild looks in their eyes. They stopped for a moment to exchange pleasantries with Irene- a mere formality at this point- as quickly as humanly possible, their unequivocal hurry making a show with the bounce in their steps. Once she was done with them, they scrambled back to their green rooms.
Taeyong must have seen the look of pure confusion on your face because he stopped to admire it, a smile tugging at his cheshire lips at the way your eyebrows cinched and your own lips puffed out slightly in bafflement. He could tell that you knew something was up and that you definitely wanted in on the supposed secret that seemed to alter their usual routine.
Now, he knew very well that Irene would probably kill him for what he was thinking about doing. Then she would resurrect him from the dead, Jesus style, and proceed to murder him once again, repeating the process until she was satisfied. He was supposed to put the best version of himself forward for you to dissect.
So if he knew this so well, why was he walking over to you anyway? When you noticed that he was coming towards you, you stood a little straighter, eyes widening slightly.
“We don’t start travelling till tomorrow,” He said first, giving you context for what was going to follow. “So we’re going to a party.”
He could see the flicker of interest in your eyes. “A party?”
Taeyong nodded, “We’ll take about ten minutes to change and then leave in the car out back. Wanna come?”
Your first thought was your outfit. A sweater that was on the thinner side tucked into a skirt, formal enough without looking overbearing. Most of the clothes you packed for the tour were of the same nature, and for good reason, because it was exactly what you would wear to work, and that was what this was.
The funny thing was that you actually had to remind yourself that you were here for work and not pleasure. Especially when he was asking you if you wanted to come along.
“I don’t have anything party worthy to wear.”
He dragged his gaze over your physique and you never wished you were wearing something else more than you had at that moment. Something a little more impressive maybe.
“You look great.”
Scratch that, this was now your favourite outfit.
He said it with such conviction that you were left with no other choice but to believe him. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, you tried to count to ten as you thought about how to say no. Ten, nine, eight…
“Okay,” You breathed out, miserable failing at your attempt to have any semblance of self-control. He grinned at you before walking away and reiterating where you should meet him in a few minutes, joining the rest of his bandmates.
Gathering your wits, you excused yourself to go find the car he spoke about, admittedly nervous about the entire ordeal. The last time you had gone to a party was during your junior year of college. Your senior year had you completely occupied with exams and being editor of the school paper, leaving you with barely any time to go out, much less for a party.
And here you were, agreeing to go to one without even thinking about it properly. There was so much wrong with this plan that you decided even analyzing your decision-making was not worth it.
Just when you were starting to think Taeyong had pulled a prank on you, they walked out, dressed in clothes that were more casual than the ones they wore on stage, but most of their makeup and hair styling was still intact. When they were closer, Doyoung stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes at you.
“What are you doing here?” He questioned- well, more like demanded an answer out of you. The others, except Taeyong, all looked a little puzzled at your presence and thats when you realized that he hadn’t told anyone he invited you along.
“She’s coming with,” He said, eliciting a look of outright indignation from the younger boy.
“Are you fucking stupid? She’s a journalist, she’ll-”
“She won’t be recording or interviewing anyone tonight, right Y/n?” He said, voice impossibly sweet as he looked at you expectantly, one eyebrow quirked high as if urging you to say yes. You supposed that was your side of the deal if you were coming along. As a journalist, you should have lied and said yes with the full intention of taking in every detail.
So when you nodded and the word ‘yes’ left your lips, you were surprised to find that you genuinely meant it. Satisfied, he opened the door and cocked his head to the side, gesturing for all of you to get in. The others still looked pretty dubious of your presence, especially Doyoung, but they quickly brushed it aside and obliged.
You ended up sitting in between Taeyong and Yuta in the car, with Doyoung driving and Mark in the passenger seat. Turns out, Jeno had been kept back because of something new popping up in his schedule alone (something about a photoshoot for one of the brands he was an ambassador of, that Irene insisted she brief him about at that very moment in time) and would be joining all of you later.
Mark slipped a lighter out of his pocket and lit a blunt, glancing up at you through the rearview mirror and holding it up. “Wanna hit?”
“Is that…?” You trailed off, a little put off at how casual he was about it. He nodded.
“Weed.”
“Jesus Christ Mark, why don’t you go tell her all our sins,” Doyoung groaned, tightening his grip around the steering wheel. Mark laughed his airy, broken record-sounding laugh, and shrugged complacently, unaffected by the possible repercussions of his actions.
“It’s not like the entire world already knows,” He deadpanned. You remembered the few articles about them being caught smoking on several occasions. “The place we’re going to is going to be full of this shit, I’m only giving her a taste. Speaking of which, do you want a cig or not?”
As you were with parties, you tended to steer away from the drug-using crowd during your school and college days, leaving you wary of the offer, so you shook your head.
“I’m good.”
“I’m not, give me one,” Yuta said right after you, and Mark did as he asked, handing a blunt over to the older man, leaning over to light it. You felt wildly out of place, nervously playing with your fingers in your lap and contemplating whether you should have agreed, after all, feeling the heels of your shoes dig into the car mat beneath your feet.
As if he could sense your doubts, Taeyong shifted slightly in his seat and dipped his head down until his mouth was near your temple. “Relax,” He said softly, the warmth of his arm around the back of your seat feeling as if it was being projected onto you, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Then he resumed his previous posture. “But yeah, you’re going to have to wipe the mildly terrified look from your face, princess, Mingyu’s party isn’t exactly a formal event with champagne flutes.”
The nickname was used in a manner of teasing, you knew. He was teasing you for being so tightly wound up and surprised at every little thing, but that didn’t stop an odd, fluttery feeling from taking place in the pit of your torso.
Your eyes widened in surprise at that statement of his- not the bit about the party not being a formal event, but the fact he mentioned Kim Mingyu, an actor who had built his reputation over being the ‘good boy’ actor of Hollywood. That was until he found himself in a dating scandal and was exposed for not being as innocent as everyone initially perceived. When he decided to embrace that part of him he received a lot of backlash, but a hell of a lot of respect for it as well, boosting his career through the roof.
As they said, all publicity is good publicity.
“You guys know Mingyu?” It seemed odd for rock stars to know an actor, at least in your eyes, and then you felt a little idiotic. Of course, they knew him. Mark nodded from the front, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing out the smoke.
“Yeah, for a while too. His parties are great to wind down at after a show.”
You had a feeling that his idea of winding down was very different to yours. “Interesting.”
It was clear to you from that moment that this party was going to be full of Hollywood’s finest and most sought-after. In short, a journalist's heaven, with so many stories in one place right within your grasp. So many stories and loose ends other press had tried hunting for ages and you had been given entrance on a red carpet.
You were a fool for not trying to pounce on the idea, all to keep the trust of a man you had been friends with for only a month or so. In a way it was laughable. Trying to keep enough of his trust in you intact just so you could tear through the walls he had built around himself for people just like you.
He was wrong. You were just like the rest, and for the first time since you set foot on this tour, guilt crept into you.
The car stopped, signalling that you had reached your destination. Swallowing the new and unwelcome sensation of guilt, you reminded yourself that there wasn’t a good or bad side to this, there never was, no matter how much the media tried to insist the same. It was ironic.
Getting out of the car, you bit the inside of your cheek, shaking those thoughts off and focusing on the house in front of you, or rather, the mansion, because your jaw slackened at the sight of it. The large iron gates walled off the piece of land from the public, enclosing the frothing fountains and tiled pathway that lead to the front of a house that looked a little old-fashioned, but in a tasteful manner. You could tell by the lights flashing in the windows that the party was already in full swing with no signs of stopping anytime soon.
The inside only cemented that fact and from the moment you set foot inside the house, it felt like you were lost. The same scent that had accompanied the blunt Mark and Yuta had used wafted through the air, lost in the haze of alcohol and other drugs.
You had no business being surprised, Hollywood was tainted with all sorts of different sins. Some of those very sins had become so commonplace that no one had the right to judge or ridicule them. You spotted a few familiar faces that you had seen on TV, or perhaps in the news as the band members dispersed slowly to get drinks and talk to their friends.
And then you were alone.
Taeyong stayed fairly close by though, knowing that this was a new scene for you. He admired the way you didn’t look scared, but more so curious as to how it all worked, eyes alert and scanning over everything. He could practically see the gears turning in your head as you made sense of it all.
Yuta was on one of the couches, talking to a few ladies, Doyoung sat by the bar and Mark had disappeared completely, no doubt now occupying one of the many rooms of the mansion with a woman. You didn’t know exactly when Jeno showed up, but you spotted him once with a drink in hand, humming along to the music.
You really had no idea how this worked, you thought in bewilderment as you tried your best to pay attention to whatever the person talking to you was saying. You brought your cup to your lips and sipped on the beer that swirled inside it as you nodded whenever you thought was appropriate enough to look like you were seriously invested. The man was no doubt a celebrity, he had the same careless arrogance you had seen everyone carry around.
Politely excusing yourself, you downed the rest of the beer, having chosen the most basic drink out of the wide selection that Mingyu had to offer to play it safe.
You managed to find an empty balcony on one of the floors, walking out to escape the heaviness of the interior, letting out a tired sigh; a sigh that carried all your worries with its exhale. The sky was dotted with an effervescence of stars that glittered against the dark canvas they lay on for the world to muse at, humble in their existence and still so captivating.
Once again, you started doubting yourself- because what sort of journalist wasn’t up for inserting themselves in the situations that concerned their work? George Plimpton, Earnie Pyle, Hunter Thompson- all excellent journalists that always took part. Granted, the things they did were a little more extreme than attending a party, but surely you should have been eagerly following in their footsteps instead of standing still and contemplating every step you took.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
You turned around on your heel to meet Taeyong’s eyes. He stood there, leaning against the door frame with a drink in his hand, looking straight at you.
“Did you really?” You quirked an eyebrow, causing him to grin sheepishly as he walked over, joining you next to the balcony railing, resting his elbows on it as he leaned against it. You hadn’t invited him to join you, but he had brazenly done so anyway, and you admired that quality about him.
“Nah, I was hoping I would though. I just know people say lines like those in movies.”
You let yourself laugh, instantly feeling more at ease now that you weren’t surrounded by strangers, but just with someone you knew to an extent. It was a talent of his, you decided, to so easily be able to draw people in.
“Good guessing skills,” You quipped, sighing. He looked to his side at you, a half smile playing on his lips in a lopsided manner.
“Well then, I’m guessing this isn’t your scene?”
“God, no,” You blurted out gracelessly, “I mean, it’s interesting to watch and indulge in for a few minutes but I get bored of it very easily. Reminds me of college.”
He hummed. “How is it? College, I mean. I’ve never been.” He stared at you curiously, and you recollected that Cherry Bomb had been formed right when he had graduated high school. Stardom and normal college life were not things that were ever meant to intersect.
“A little more relaxed than high school, but that gets to some people and they let go completely, and by your junior year you’re finally allowed to legally drink,” was the explanation you settled on. “Not that it stops the freshmen anyway.”
He pressed the mouth of his bottle to his lips, taking another sip as he drank in your words. “Sounds boring.”
“Not for everyone, I just happened to spend half my time in my university’s newsroom, so my experience wasn’t exactly the most exciting.” You shrugged, suddenly a little embarrassed over the fact. Here you stood beside someone who had one of the most exciting lives ever and you paled in comparison. Why was he even talking to you?
You looked so pretty right then, a rueful smile gracing your face like you regretted not participating more, strands of your hair falling in front of your face and out of your loose ponytail, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you were aware of just how bewitching you were. He couldn’t help but be just a little envious of the glass that previously held your drink, and how it had the opportunity of having your lips on it, rather than him being able to kiss you.
The startling realization that he wanted to kiss you was enough to pull him right back out of his trance, but there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with thinking about it, was there?
“You just haven’t been in any exciting situations,” He countered and it was then you noticed how the light from the moon flickered through the wisps of his hair, illuminating the edges like a halo. A crimson halo that is, two things that contradicted each other in an almost comical manner. Halos were supposed to be golden and pure.
You had a feeling that Taeyong was anything but.
And you had no idea why you liked the prospect of that as much as you did. “I suppose you know exactly how to get into those types of situations.”
He smirked, an expression so dizzying to look at that you momentarily entertained the idea of looking around for a seat before your knees inevitable buckled, and gripped the railing rigidly. He took a step closer to you until the space between the two of you had reduced to far too little for your dwindling sanity.
“Why? Are you interested?”
Suddenly it felt like the air had hiked up in temperature like it was warmer than before and it prickled at your skin. You blamed your sweater, but you could feel it on your bare legs too, and on the exposed skin of your neck. That very heat crawled upwards onto your cheeks, but you refused to acknowledge it, keeping your eyes locked on his.
He was close, closer than your sanity would have liked. You took the opportunity to study him for a moment, from the rise of his cheekbones to the little, almost unnoticeable scar next to his right eye- you momentarily wonder how he got it. Somehow, he was still gorgeous.
“Maybe I am.”
He moved just a little closer, beguiled by how quickly you responded. It was evident that you loved challenges and he dropped his voice a little even though there was no one else around. “Good.” Tempting, an affirmation that he had wanted to show all those exciting places and situations to you and by god, you were so tempted.
He didn’t know why he was so taken with you, and you did not know how to get your body feeling normal again and not like it was in a sauna. That smirk, the way he looked at you and the way you stared back without backing down even for a second, it was new to the both of you.
Oh, you were so fucked.
It was around four in the morning when your head finally met your cold pillow and your fingers curled into the thin blanket you used to cover yourself. The party had not ended yet, but the group of you decided to leave so you would get at least a few hours of sleep before Irene came along and yelled at everyone for their irresponsibility.
The moment you returned, you had changed out of your outfit into something lighter. A tank top and shorts, kicking off your shoes and hoping it would be enough to erase the effect a certain man had on you.
One would think that after having such a long day you’d fall asleep immediately, and frankly, you did too. You thought that the sweet, sweet cycle of REM sleep would take over your mind and you would be knocked out within minutes of lying down on the bed.
Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Your mind was still awake, racing faster than it usually did, only one thing- or rather, one person- on it. The reason? It was stressing you out.
The fact that you were so blatantly attracted to Taeyong was a problem. For one, it was highly unprofessional and just plain wrong to be into someone you were writing an article about. That alone should have had your insides twist with worry at what was to come.
It was bad enough that the world thought most female reporters went about sleeping with their subjects anyway and you were mortified over possibly turning into one of those women, rumour or not. This was a job, a job you were supposed to do well and never look back at again, one that would kickstart your career for the better.
So why on earth did you feel so unapologetic about it?
You had fallen for people before, but you wouldn’t say that you had fallen in love. The guys you had been with before had been benevolent and nonabrasive at best, the ones who tended to play it safe to avoid misadventures. The tenderness that was growing in your chest for Taeyong was so foreign that you almost didn’t recognize it.
It was the result of him, the way he was. The way he challenged you without ever putting you down, that proud look in his eye that he earned over the years, but it was one that never drifted into being that of an asshole. Not many people were able to pull that sort of confidence off, but he did it with such ease that it was irritatingly attractive.
You guessed that it was because of this very confidence that he possessed, that alluring quality of his you couldn’t quite put your finger on, he was portrayed the way he was for the public to jeer at. It was human nature to hate those who flourished despite the odds and he was the textbook definition of graceful success. Naturally, they had to disrupt that grace why tainting it with whatever they could.
But it was how he stayed with you for the rest of the evening- or early morning if you were getting technical- at the party, helping you relax into the unfamiliar atmosphere. It was how he didn’t seem to care about the party, although you knew from your research that he was quite the opposite, it was nice of him to pretend like that wasn’t true. It was how he whispered a sweet goodnight to you before you silently climbed to the upper level of the bus and your bed, with that boyish smile you were coming to like just a little too much.
That was why.
“Fuck,” You whispered to yourself, and it sounded a lot louder than it was in the silence of the bus. It was bad because it went a little past just plain attraction. If it was just that, it would have been ten times easier to deal with. You could be attracted to someone without feeling a single thing for them.
But the way his voice went all the way to your stomach and ignited that incessant fluttery feeling you tried so hard to ignore. It went a little past just plain ol’ attraction, but even a little bit was dangerous. The sensation was so unfamiliar in a cold strange way that you didn’t know what you were doing with yourself and for some unknown reason, you couldn’t find even a small remnant of remorse for it.
Just once, you told yourself hopelessly. You would let yourself think about him just once.
“No, no, no, absolutely not Y/n,” You muttered in a half-hearted scolding directed to yourself, but as soon as you said it, you were thinking about the way he held his guitar, and the possibility of that red hair of his being soft at the touch. The pout that rested on his lips when he argued with you or anyone, for the matter, was just so damn charming.
And the smile that teased your lips at that very moment, one that you had to cover by putting your hand over it as if anyone could see you in the darkness of the night. The way you tried so hard to fight the giddy seed that had been planted in your mind, the little schoolgirl giggles that threatened to leave you if you didn’t try hard enough to conceal them. You groaned silently to yourself so as to not wake any of the people sleeping around you, turning to your side and attempting to bury your face in the thin pillow that was no longer cool enough.
Taeyong was layered. Like an onion.
You couldn’t believe that the first description you could think of was lines straight out of Shrek.
Insanity- that’s what this was. You were getting ahead of yourself, in a few months, none of this would matter. You’d write the article, it would get published and you’d get some recognition for it. Your life would go back to the normally boring version of itself and you’d forget about it all once the opportunities started (hopefully) piling in.
There was no reason for this to get personal. You closed your eyes and stilled, holding the pillow you had brought along for yourself between your legs and forcing your brain to stop working overtime.
The first time Taeyong performed professionally was when he was nineteen, bordering twenty. Before they got their record deal, the band practised in garages and their rooms, and it was before Jeno joined. Then they were there, young and inexperienced when it came to the world they had just begun to dip their toes into.
He remembered feeling nervous, tapping his foot on the flooring repeatedly as he sat on the plush couches inside the studio, waiting for instructions. He could never forget how those nerves disappeared the moment he took his place behind the microphone and began singing with the rest of the band like they were never there in the first place.
Irene Bae stood on the other side of the glass, listening in. She was one of the younger managers, being twenty-four at the time, and although she hadn’t had much experience, she knew that Cherry Bomb was the group she wanted to manage and help get to the top. She saw their potential from the get-go and was smart enough to acknowledge that if she was the one in charge, she would reap the benefits as well.
Monroe was the first studio album that they released, and no one could have ever anticipated the success it brought to the table. In typical fashion for young rockstars, most of the songs revolved around drugs or sex but weren’t generic. Euphemisms and imagery floated through the lyrics that they worked hard on, no one could deny the raw talent they possessed.
The lead single of the album, Dark Clouds, debuted at 40 on the Billboard Charts, which was relatively high for a new artist, and it only kept climbing up the charts until it peaked at number two and stayed there for almost five weeks. The tracklist was full of hit after hit, and when you made such an incredible entrance into the scene, you had to expect both sides that came with fame: the good and the downright ugly.
The first time Taeyong ever had to deal with it was a few weeks after the album had been released and he had gone out to McDonald’s because he had been craving a burger. He didn’t think much of it at the time, but going out as a rising rockstar without any security was a stupid move on his part. Within minutes, he had a swarm of fans around him and he hadn’t the slightest clue of what to do, especially when the press showed up to ask him questions about the album.
That piece hadn’t been about anything scandalous, just about the first sighting of him without the rest of his mates. He realized that it didn’t have to be about anything great to be read because Cherry Bomb had become such a hot topic. It just had to be about one of them.
It was the first time he appeared in the papers without the rest of the band- just him. The moment Lee Taeyong became the ‘it boy’ that everyone loved to trail after, searching for something to pin him down with for the public to whisper about.
It was then he knew that his life had changed forever.
Lee Jeno wasn’t as intimidating as Yuta was, you would classify him as the sweetheart of the group. Off the stage, those sharp eyes turned into softer crescents of joy, and that raspy singing voice melted into jokes that suited the freshly turned twenty-one-year-old. By the end, you had forgotten the last few questions you were supposed to ask him, ending up with your hand pressed to your stomach as you tried not to laugh.
You were slowly making your way through each member of the band, procrastinating taking Taeyong’s interview. You didn’t know why you felt like it, but it was a ticking time bomb, and as much as you wanted to know about him, you didn’t want to at all.
God, you were a terrible journalist.
Finishing up, you gathered your things and began your journey back up the stairs to put together the most important bits of Jeno’s interview. You had finally managed to do Yuta’s a while after the night at the party, getting to work after a month of observing. Realistically speaking, you probably should have started a while ago, but it was fine.
“What happened to the original guy?”
Just as you were about to emerge from the stairs, you heard Renjun’s voice resound through the top floor. Instinctively, you stopped climbing and stayed in place as you took note of the slightly hushed tone of voice like he was hiding something.
Then the irony of the situation settled in. This whole eavesdropping thing was quickly developing into a bad habit of yours and you should not have been so ardently encouraging it.
“Yes- no there’s not a problem with her- but I thought you were going to send the person who wrote the article about-”
And then he dropped his voice even softer. Secrets always piqued your interest.
“- the article about Taeyong.”
Your eyes widened and now you knew you had to know more because he was talking about articles and a ‘her’ that you were willing to bet was you. Invested, you crouched down a little and put your stuff down on one of the steps, praying no one would walk up right then and catch you in such an awkward position.
“I’m not upset Mr Suh, just surprised. We had an agreement when I gave you that story, one that ensured you would send over the same person who wrote it anonymously.”
Johnny? Why on earth was Renjun speaking to Johnny? Your insides twisted as a small realization dawned upon you and you were no longer thinking about working on your article. You were thinking about taking a little detour in your research to uncover a suspicion that was quickly growing.
“I’ve taken a risk Johnny,” Renjun continued a little coldly this time as if he was warning your boss not to disappoint. “I expect you to make sure it benefits me as well.”
You decided that this was the point where you would finally make your entrance, it sounded like the call was going to end now anyways. Picking your things back up, you retreated a few steps, ignored the little voice in your head that laughed at how stupid the scene must have looked, and walked back up, purposely being a little loud with your footsteps.
Renjun looked a little spooked when you walked upstairs, but no one would have noticed it if they hadn’t heard the conversation that preceded it. Your signature polite smile made a show as you gave it to him and sat down on your bed. Seeing that you would probably be there for a while, he excused himself.
And then you began. Pieces started falling into place, little things you hadn’t paid enough attention to. You pulled up the research you had done, that one article talking about Taeyong's promiscuity and how it lead to his stardom. Superstar Lee Taeyong sleeping his way to the top.
You couldn’t believe you never paid attention to the fact that it was written anonymously. Moreover, you couldn’t believe that you hadn’t noticed the two little letters at the bottom of the clipping. TL.
The Link. The entire thing had originated under your very nose and you had overlooked that piece of information. Now, each word of the article was something to think about, especially the little bit mentioning an anonymous source.
You couldn’t believe it. The very rumour that had dragged the band down started from the inside.
Loose lips sink ships.
And Renjun had been running his mouth all too gladly. He was their publicist for goodness sake, it made no sense. At the same time, it made perfect sense, a little drama went a long way in the celebrity world.
That pesky guilt from before about what you were doing tightened around you like a lasso, because how were you any different? You were lying in a sense as well, parading around and saying you were here for one thing while doing something else. You were a fraud who had listened in and judged another of your type.
He said something about not expecting it to be you who would come along for the tour, so you racked your brain to figure out why. Johnny knew this and agreed to your demands anyway, so why-
“Jungwoo,” You whispered in realisation. “That fucker.”
Jungwoo was the anonymous writer, you were sure of it. He dropped out last minute, leaving Johnny with no choice but to take what he got. You asked no questions he wasn’t willing to answer because all you had seen was an opportunity to further yourself.
You weren’t naive, you knew that it could still very well be true. Renjun could have told the truth about the band's reason for what seemed like instant stardom to expose them without losing face or his job. Just because it looked like a betrayal done from the inside didn’t mean that it wasn’t warranted.
Your reluctance to get more out of Taeyong burned away, replaced with pure journalistic instinct. You were going to find out what was real and what wasn’t without thinking about your potential feelings. You were a professional, after all, and you were going to prove that the truth was just as good of a story, no matter what that truth turned out to be.
“Did you spend a night in prison?”
Taeyong turned to you, caught off guard at your sudden question. He was sitting in the empty stadium during the break, this time with a guitar in his arms as he mindlessly strummed it to pass the time. One look at him and anyone would know he lived and breathed music in the purest sense, something that was extremely admirable.
You had settled into the seat next to him, a mirror image of your first day together- minus the guitar in his hand and the on-tour lunch that was being handed out that you held. He quirked an eyebrow.
“Been googling me?”
“I have to,” You said immediately, so smoothly that one would have thought it was a rehearsed line, leaning back and getting comfortable in the seat. “Now, is it true?”
“Is this my interview?” He avoided the question once again, mildly amused by how forward you were being. “Where’s your little kit?”
“Perhaps- and my what?”
This was terrible. He had been trying to get you to like him like Irene had requested- well, perhaps not just because Irene had asked him to do so. He was starting to realize that there was a chance that he wanted you to like him as well, and the result of possibly getting an article that would silence all the fake news was just an added benefit.
“You know, journal, recorder, whatever.”
“I’m taking a different approach, now answer my question.”
Oh, the reason he didn’t want to was because of how humiliating the story was but you were staring at him determinedly and he knew he wasn’t going to get out of this one. Sighing, he dropped his head and carefully put the guitar in another seat. For the first time in a long time, he felt an embarrassed blush kiss his cheeks.
“I was barely twenty-one, it’s old news.”
“I’d say you were asking for it,” You said, mouth upturning in amusement at the pink that stained his cheeks. It was cute. “I mean, deciding to go spray painting in the middle of the night on the wall of private property? That’s just dumb.”
He groaned when you oh-so-kindly recounted his misdeed, it had covered the papers for days, which was odd because it wasn’t anything too scandalous- other than it being illegal, of course. It only stopped circulating when Kim Jennie was found making out with Lisa Manoban at a party.
While she had a boyfriend.
Yeah, that was a much juicer story.
“Look,” He attempted to justify his younger self's decision-making skills. “There was this after party that followed this fashion show we had been ford to attend as a part of our schedule, and it was the most boring shit ever. Caviar and champagne. The place was full of opera singers, so you can imagine how we stood out.”
He ducked his head, grimacing at the memory of his teenage self ditching a prestigious event to commit a petty crime for the thrill of it. Immaturity was something he was still trying to grow out of, but that was the price of having to essentially grow up in the public eye.
You didn’t have to imagine, because there were pictures of them at the party before the incident, all wearing dress shirts and trousers. All of them looked much younger, going through a platinum blonde phase for their hair and it was painstakingly obvious that they didn’t fit in with the aristocratic guests at all. You wholeheartedly pitied them when you had seen that image, pulled between sympathising for them and laughing.
Taeyong didn’t understand why he felt the need to explain himself to you, nor did he understand why he felt embarrassed by it, running a hand through his locks. For some unknown reason, your opinion mattered to him, which even sounded ridiculous. Everyone had an opinion about him, and he had never given a flying fuck about them.
Until now, of course.
“I was bored out of my mind. I needed something fun to do, and Yuta was down. We were cellmates too.” He added that bit as a quip to earn something close to amusement from you. When you let out a short laugh, he was pleased that he succeeded. “Then Irene bailed us out.”
Wait, what the hell was he doing? This entire thing was completely out of character for him, he was the one others tried to impress, not the other way around. Never the other way around.
“You’ve been to Milan,” You said to him, childish wonder creeping into the tone of your voice. “All the pictures I’ve seen of the place are so gorgeous. I would die to spend even a day there.”
“Would you be up for a little vandalizing?” He asked hopefully, leaning forward with a shit-eating grin on his face. You threw him a pointed look, shaking your head.
“I said I wanted a day in Milan, Taeyong, not jail.” You deadpanned, pushing down the urge to giggle. Giggle. For goodness sake, it was pathetic, you felt like a giddy schoolgirl with barely any control over her emotions.
You had decided to go forward with grilling Taeyong for your article, determined to get to the bottom of your little side quest. Taking a bite out of the less than appetizing catered lunch, you shifted in your seat so that you were facing him a little better, moving on to the next question.
“Did you fake date Kang Seulgi?”
“You’re very chatty today, aren’t you?” He muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “I feel like I’m on trial.”
“It’s my job to grill answers out of you,” You winked playfully, earning a petulant look from his end as if he was offended at that statement of yours. Your mind wandered a little and before you could hold it by the reins and keep it back, it wandered a little too far, the sides of your lips curling upwards in a small smile.
“And here I thought you were actually interested in me,” He teased, and now it was you who felt flushed, but not out of embarrassment.
Then you went back to thinking sensibly with your head. “What do you expect me to do? Ask you to teach me how to play the guitar?” You offered him a sardonic smile as you gave up on the baked potato and cold mac-n-cheese that sat sadly on your paper plate, keeping it in another empty seat.
“I could if you wanted me to,” he mused, deciding to throw you off a little for fun.
You blinked in bewilderment at the offer. “What? No, I was just-” You scrambled to get out of the situation you had somehow managed to fall in (literally and figuratively), shaking your head adamantly at him. “I couldn’t-”
And then you noticed the way he had his fist over his mouth, eyes alight with pure amusement and when a small snicker left those pretty crimson lips of his, you narrowed your eyes at him.
“You’re laughing at me.” You said flatly, a sulky pout taking shape on your lips, “You’re making fun of me.”
“I couldn’t help it, you looked so distressed. It was…..it was cute.”
Oh. Oh hell no. You were practically yelling at yourself so you wouldn’t get carried away, no doubt several girls had heard the very same compliment from him. As if sensing your mental conflict, Taeyong simpered and continued speaking.
“And yes, her management begged us for the deal because her album hadn’t done as well as it had to. At all. In fact, it flopped hard. The publicity stunt had her sales skyrocket back to normal, but you can never trust anyone when it comes to arrangements like these. One snitch and the entire thing can fall apart.”
What.
Oh right. Seulgi. You nodded, his words ringing loud and clear in the chambers of your mind. The tone of his voice was casual, but there was an undertone of bitterness, so slight that you would have missed it if you hadn’t been paying attention.
You couldn’t imagine how he would feel when he learned of what Renjun did to him, to the entirety of the band. Even worse, you couldn’t imagine how he would react when he found out what you were working on because you had a feeling he had given you more than he had ever given anyone else.
“Ah,” You said quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “There’s an untold story behind every exploited one.”
Taeyong would never understand how you had managed to sum it all up in just a few words. It was like you had somehow managed to see right through him, and that scared him just a little. His years in the spotlight had taught him how to be guarded, and how to know just how much to give and take from the public.
What was scarier, was the fact that you were a part of the media. It was never a good idea to let them have any leverage over you.
“Yeah,” He whispered, gripping the neck of the guitar as gently as possible. “Most of the time they ignore it. Unfortunately.”
Celebrities like him were expected to bask in everything that was sent their way, even the scandals that did not benefit them in the slightest. The public was of the opinion that because he had fame, he deserved everything that came with it.
You were looking at him like you knew he had received the short end of the stick many times before, a look that had his throat closing in on itself, but he didn’t look away. He hadn’t even once thought about looking away.
“I’m sorry,” You said softly, apologetically. Part of you felt guilty that you were one of those very people that exploited him, but you had to push that out of your mind to halt that train of thought before it consumed you. He forced himself to break the little spell that had been cast over the two of you, snapping out of your pseudo-staring competition and pulling the guitar back into his lap, strumming it mindlessly. You let your gaze fall from his face to the instrument.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Teach me how to play the guitar- at least a few chords. I heard somewhere that you could do a lot of songs with just four of them.”
He raised an eyebrow, mirth dancing in his eyes. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
You pulled a knee to your chest, “I like keeping people on their toes.” Your answer seemed to please him because he chuckled and then picked the guitar up once again, using one hand to signal you to sit straight in the seat, before placing it on your lap. It was a little awkward for you, someone who had never really held a guitar before, so you sat there and timidly held the top of it, waiting for his instructions.
“Those four chords you’re talking about? They’re C, G, F major and A minor.” He gently picked your other hand up and placed it on the fretboard, glancing up at your face to see if you were okay with the contact. There was something magical about his touch, which lingered on your fingertips, and you nodded softly, eyes locked with his.
Electric ever so slightly, the air between the two of you had a buzzing you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Slowly, he looked away and back at your hand, positioning each finger on the respective string it was supposed to be on. Once he was done, he leaned back a bit and placed his thumb on the first string.
“Push down on them,” He murmured, and as you did, he dragged his own fingers across them, over the hollow part of the guitar, producing music.
It wasn’t perfect, you still didn’t know how to hold the strings down hard enough, your fingers hurt a little from even that first attempt and in reality, you should have been the one strumming, but it faded into the background when your heart stuttered a little with how he was looking at you.
Oh no.
Was this what a crush felt like? Apprehensive glances and short breaths, anticipation spilling over, it was absolutely unbearable for you.
“I might need a little practice,” you said cautiously, loosening your grip on the strings and finally registering the strain on your fingertips, cursing under your breath and bringing them up to your face to inspect them. A soft red hue gleamed through your skin, stinging ever so slightly at the parts that had been indented by the strings.
“Yeah,” He replied, just as soft. “It hurts at the start but after a while you barely notice it. I think you’ll have to use a pick” Both of you were skirting around the obvious tension, choosing to ignore it when there was no good reason to.
“Show me the next one,” You managed to blurt out, trying desperately to break this pattern of getting so easily winded around him. Every moment you spent with him had you repeatedly reminding yourself of what you were actually here for, what you were meant to do because never, never in your entire life, had you ever met someone as magnetic as Lee Taeyong.
And so he did, the next thirty minutes passing by in a blur or strumming and pressing down strings on the fret until your fingers hurt and the scene of him and you sitting there burned into your memory even as you fell asleep that night.
And then, you were in New York.
CHERRY BOMB SOLD OUT IN NEW YORK CITY!
The Grammy-winning rock group has been steadily growing since their first show and is now the one that claims ownership of the audience of fifty-eight thousand fans that showed up at their show last night, truly the Cherry On Top! As usual, the five men were excellent on stage, their showmanship making it clear why all those seats had filled up so quickly. No doubt some fans didn’t manage to get one, which only cements how successful the group is.
We have been saying this for years and it only holds true; we cannot wait to see where Cherry Bomb takes us!
- The New York Times.
Taeyong would admit that sometimes, he did let things go a little too far.
Now, the New York show had been the biggest one yet, with the entire stadium filled up and not a seat left empty and more than a week to spend in the city, he let himself loose for the night after the show. The success of the show and the adrenaline pumping through their veins led them to spend all that excess energy at yet another party.
When alcohol was bought into the mix, perhaps he got a little too drunk. He wouldn’t know how exactly to classify it because he had been wasted before, and this wasn’t it. He could still stand and think semi-clearly, good enough to make his own decisions. Well enough to know that the girl on his arm had definitely been flirting with him.
Conscious enough to know what she wanted when she asked him if he wanted to get out of there. Alert enough to remember exactly what happened the night before in that strange woman's bed, and by no means was this the first time something like it had happened.
Yuta had indulged as well, he could tell by the scattering of darker marks on the younger neck. He knew the both of them had somehow been caught by a lurking reporter that managed to get to the site of the party and caught a few pics of them walking away. Maybe he would see himself in the next issue of the paper, accompanied by a nice side of his manager yelling at him for getting caught.
It was a cycle, an exhausting one, but he kept at it anyways.
He would worry about that later. At this point in time, when he walked out of the shower right then in the morning and took a Tylenol for the mild hangover that he had, before making his way up the stairs and to the top floor of the bus.
There you sat, legs crossed over each other with one of your pillows resting on top of them to act as a makeshift table for your laptop, which you were intently staring at, looking very immersed in whatever you were reading. He took a moment to admire how focused you were, eyebrows furrowed and lips set in the slightest pout as the bright blue light of your screen shone on your face.
Suddenly, it made sense why his hook-up last night felt a little more meaningless than it usually did anyway.
“Hey,” His voice cut through your reverie, making you startle a little as you looked up. There you saw a casually dressed Taeyong with hair that was slightly damp leaning against the frame of the wall. “Are you doing anything important right now?”
You shook your head a little too quickly for your liking, “Not really, just going over a little research, why?” You tried your best to sound as nonchalant and uninterested as possible, more to convince yourself than him. The pleased look that appeared on his face almost broke your resolve.
“Good,” He tipped his head towards the side, and you followed his line of sight to your suitcase. “Get ready and meet me outside in ten.”
You blinked rapidly, successfully confused with his instructions. “I’m sorry?”
“Get dressed and meet me outside the bus in ten minutes, I’m taking you out.”
You never had been very good with abrupt plans, and Taeyong threw you off your normal course enough as it is. Sceptical, and rightfully so, you asked, “Out where?”
“Trust me a little, will you?” He bargained, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on, “No questions, this isn’t one of your interviews.”
Without letting you respond, he walked back downstairs, leaving you there to stare at his retreating figure in mystification. That sentiment turned into exasperation at yourself for being so easily swayed, picking yourself up from the bed and going to do just as he asked of you because goddamnit, you were admittedly curious.
Pulling on something casual enough to look like you hadn’t tried hard enough but cute enough to perhaps receive a compliment, you grabbed your stuff and walked out of the tour bus, spotting Taeyong waiting for you as he scrolled through his phone. His other hand held a cigarette between his fingers, one he promptly put out when he noticed you arriving. Your mother would have given you a sharp talking to for agreeing to blindly follow a man, which was why you refused to completely let him have control.
You jogged over to catch up with him, coming to a standstill and asking, “Where are we going?”
“You never give up, do you?” He switched his phone off and slipped it into the pockets of his jeans, feigning annoyance at your persistence, although you could tell it was fake. “Are you sure you want to know? It’ll ruin the magic.”
“Magic?”
“You know, the magic of surprises?”
You had to press your lips together in an attempt not to smile at how cute that sounded coming from him. The magic of surprises? What was he, a five-year-old? Now you wanted to see how he would act when in Disney World. From what you gathered, he’d probably buy all ninety-eight variations of the mickey mouse ear headbands. That image alone was too much for you, and you pushed it to the back of your mind.
“I like having all my facts straight before I jump into anything,” You stated plainly, giving him an expectant look. He sighed, as if growing weary of your prompt responses, and then-
No way.
Was Taeyong blushing? Your eyes could have very well been tricking you, but you swore you saw a light dusting of pink on his cheeks, perhaps out of embarrassment of what he was about to tell you.
“You said you wanted to travel…..” He trailed off, averting his eyes from you. You weren’t used to this side of him, away from the ever-present (or so you thought) confident smirk that played on his lips and the lazy amusement in his eyes. Here, you saw a boy that was a little bashful about his intentions. “And I thought I could show you around a few places in New York.”
You didn’t know how to respond to that one, staring at him in a mixture of question and bafflement over why he would want to do that. As if sensing your perplexion, he continued.
“I mean, I felt bad that you were being dragged along with us to all these places but was forced to stick around only us and we have a week in the city so I just figured you would like to see the place.” He was rambling a little bit, explaining his reasoning for what he was going and you couldn’t even lie to yourself, because you melted a little at how thoughtful it was.
“That sounds great,” You cut him off with a grateful smile, tucking your hands behind your back and bouncing a little on your heels. Relieved by your positive reaction, he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in.
“Alright, follow me.”
He pulled a cap low over his head so that it cast a shadow over his face and obscured his features to an extent. He was still recognizable, but one would have to double-take to make it out.
Oh right, he was famous. The reality of that started to weigh a little more now that it was in your face and you were forced to acknowledge it since most of the time it was easy to get carried away with everything that happened on tour. You felt a little ridiculous for momentarily forgetting an integral part of who he was.
But you followed him anyway, out onto the unfamiliar streets of New York where cars whirred by in a blur of red and blue, the bright lights flashing even in the daytime. Cacophony drifted through the air like a song, but it could have very well been out of tune considering you didn’t know much about music. You wondered if Taeyong could hear it as well and if it made more sense to him.
It stunned you a little, just how much you wanted to know about his thoughts.
“There isn’t nearly enough time to show you everything I want to in one day, so I’m going to take you to two places I like best if that’s okay with you?” The smile on his face was small, bashful even, but it was enough to have your thoughts scatter and for you to bite your lip as you nodded slowly.
His eyes lit up and you were seriously amused by how enthralled he seemed to be about the entire situation like he truly did want to show you around. He wasn’t doing this to be perceived as a nice guy, he remembered the little, insignificant fact about yourself that you told him weeks later and was now acting upon it.
If only the tabloids could see this side of him and talk about it instead, the gentler, sweeter side that you were discovering bit by bit, instead of the rogue party animal that they usually plastered all over their front pages.
“It’s perfect,” You said, voice coming out a little breathless. He grinned and called for a cab, gentlemanly holding out the door for you to get in first, following suit. “Do I get any more information about this surprise?”
He shot you a disapproving look, “It wouldn’t be much of a surprise then, would it?”
“I appreciate the sentiment of giving me a surprise but I’m inquisitive!” The small, indignant pout on your lips almost elicited a laugh from his end, but he stood his ground and shook his head.
“No can do, sweetheart, you’re just going to have to trust me.”
And how could you not relent when he called you that so naturally, his voice lilting a little in a teasing manner? It didn’t mean anything, but you liked it anyways, a lot more than you cared to admit.
The first place he took you was the Museum of Modern Art, which puzzled you a tad because of how ordinary it seemed and how risky it was with all the tourists and locals that frequented the place. At any moment, someone could notice him and that would only lead to further complications that you did not want to think about.
After getting tickets to enter the place, you found yourself thrust into a world of colour and portraits, pieces of art that were probably worth more than your entire college tuition. Some looked oddly normal like they didn’t belong in a museum of all places, but they were placed near what you could only describe as masterpieces. A striking contrast, to say the least.
“Every time we’re in NYC, I come here,” Taeyong explained as the two of you walked around the place, hands casually tucked into his pockets as those expressive eyes of his wandered the artistry that spanned before them.
You could tell something important was coming. “Why?”
He let out a soft sigh, not sparing you a glance just yet, still focused on a specific piece in front of you, but you were only looking at him, patiently waiting. He had never had someone wait as you did, it had always ever been question after question, rushed and insincere, impersonal in a way that had him feeling comforted.
Or maybe that was just because he was used to that. It was no secret he liked the attention, it was just who he was, but having your attention on him was a completely different story, a completely different type of liking attention.
“For perspective.”
You didn’t quite understand what he meant by that and hummed in question. “Perspective?”
“I express my feelings and my state of mind with music, but not everyone does that. Poetry, paintings, sculptures, whatever the hell that is,” He pointed to something that looked like a paper mache of a leg from the knee down in crocs. “There are different ways to feel and explain things, even when it seems impossible to do so. Coming here always….helps when I’m having a musical block.”
And pay attention you did, because you knew there was something he was holding back, so you used your old tactic of staying silent to draw out more from a person.
“Cherry Bomb turns five soon,” He said, voice nearing a whisper at this point. “And I’m grateful- so fucking grateful that we’ve managed to stay on top for so long- but I can’t help but think about there being a time where we lose it all. When we’re not the best and can’t climb back up there, what then?”
Your heart broke a little when you heard how vulnerable he sounded at that. How real he was and how passionate he was about his band.
Taeyong was such a colourful person- something like a saturated sunrise- the type of person to always stand out from among the crowd, set apart from them. The true masterpiece that roamed the halls of the MoMA.
“I don’t dwell on it for long, it’s like a phase I go through from time to time,” He laughed bitterly. “Mostly when I’m having a musical block, as I mentioned before, but when I come here and remind myself that there are different approaches to things I……I get over it, I guess.”
There was a certain element of weariness laced into his words, barely noticeable in the grand scheme of things, but it was as clear as day to you. He was tired of indulging in that cycle of doubting himself over and over again, finally getting over it, only to return to it a few months later.
“You’re forgetting something.” You weren’t sure why you were so adamant about taking that ugly thought of his away from him. He finally looked back at you, raising an eyebrow.
“I am?”
Nodding solemnly, you gave him a half smile, standing a little straighter as your fingers curled into a fist at your sides. “Some pieces and artists are timeless. I think Cherry Bomb is one of them.”
You were so perfect, somehow knowing exactly what to say when he needed it most. He came to the MoMA for perspective and this time it wasn’t where he got that change of outlook from. This time, it was from you, even if you didn’t know how much that had comforted him- how much you had comforted him.
What a mesmerising lie this was.
A gentle beam pulled at the sides of his lips as he let what you said to hang in the air for a moment or two, disgesting it. He wondered if he would ever have to come back here again after meeting you because you sounded so much more appealing to him, and when he glanced back at the art piece, he snapped out of his self-induced reverie and asked.
“Are you hungry?”
~
Taeyong took you to a little café in Brooklyn, claiming it as the second spot he had set out to introduce you to in the morning. It was a rustic place, but pleasingly so, with little fairy lights hanging from over the display counter and soft jazz music playing in the background, the smell of pastries and bread wafting through the air, leaving you to inhale big gulps of air to savour it.
There weren’t many savoury options on the small menu they had, so you settled on a brownie and a normal coffee, playing it safe. Taeyong ordered a latte and a cheesecake without even looking at the options they had, and it reminded you that he too had roots in some places, even if his life seemed to be all over the place.
“I have a big sweet tooth,” He admitted when your food arrived, finally taking his cap off and revealing his head of messy hair, some of which stuck out endearingly in different directions. He ran his fingers through it to smoothen it out right as you fought the urge to do it yourself, curling your fingers around the handle of your cup of coffee instead to keep them occupied.
“I can tell,” You spoke, taking a sip of the bitter liquid that so soothingly kissed your throat. “So, why this place?”
He dug his fork into his cheesecake, cutting it and scooping the smaller piece up. “Because the owners didn’t know who I was.” Then he frowned, “Wait, I could have worded that better. I sound like some self-absorbed idiot, but yeah, they didn’t know who I was and I liked that I didn’t have to disguise myself here. And their apple pie is really good.”
He added that last bit like it was the most important thing to mention out of everything, eating the morsel on his fork. Digging into your cake, your eyes widened when the taste finally registered.
“Holy shit,” You mumbled, “This is amazing.” Swallowing, you licked your lips to make sure there were no crumbs stuck to them. “Now, back to those disguises you mentioned.”
Taeyong pursed his lips to keep his smile at bay at your endearing curiosity, “I don’t exactly have the luxury of being able to go out and not get swarmed.”
“Come on, you have to give me something to work with here. You can’t just mention disguises and not elaborate,” You prodded further, your natural curiosity taking over, but not for business purposes, you genuinely wanted to know more about him. And then, you promptly took another bite because god dammit, that brownie really was fantastic.
“I mean, hats are the norm,” He motioned to the bucket hat that he kept on his side of the table, part of which was handing off the edge, but he made no move to pull it back in. “But once I had to wear a curly wig and one of those fake moustaches. Not something I’d ever want anyone to see but it worked since no one did.”
The image that popped up in your mind was much too comical for you to even think about trying to hold back the chuckle that escaped you at that moment, and he shot you a playful glare, warning you under his breath. “Don’t.”
“How can I not?” You asked, trying your best not to snicker, “I have to see this for myself.”
“Over my dead body.”
Your pleas fell on deaf ears as you tried to coax him to show you a picture if he had one, to no avail. Being out of the tour bus, away from everyone and just the two of you was refreshing, you could tell he was a little more relaxed in the café. It suddenly occurred to you that even among his band mates he had to keep a sort of mask on, after all, he was the leader and the person who had formed the group in the first place. Most of the time, the responsibility fell onto his shoulders.
Something deep inside you appreciated the fact that he felt comfortable enough to let go in front of you.
And thats when a twinge of remorse pinched you, the sting so faint but definitely there. It had been making itself at home within your body and it was entirely unwelcome. Taking a sip of coffee to drown it out, gripped the handle of the mug tighter than you usually would as if compensating for what your conscious was trying to tell you.
When he cracked a joke and you laughed along, indulging in a conversation with him that seemed to flow so easily, and when he insisted on paying even when you argued that you could very well do so for yourself, it told you something else.
It told you that this entire day felt like a date.
And it shouldn’t have, you told yourself repeatedly while you walked back out, falling into step with him on the footpaths. The sun was dipping below the high point that it hit during the afternoons, hiding behind the wispy clouds that seemed to caress the preeminent tips of the skyscrapers.
You had to remind yourself that he was known for being the guy that walked out of places with a girl hanging off his shoulder, the one that everyone somehow found themselves infatuated with, and the fact that you could understand why they were irking you. You were never supposed to let yourself get swept away in his current so easily, but you hadn’t anticipated it being so strong.
Walking with you felt natural like he could close his eyes for just a minute and pretend that he wasn’t Lee Taeyong, Cherry Bomb’s leader that tended to find trouble. He was just Taeyong and he didn’t know why he found that so appealing.
It’s funny how even the smallest thing can derail an entire experience, no?
Taeyong stopped walking, setting his jaw once he noticed it. He was about to raise his hand to his head to check if he was wearing his bucket hat, but thats when he realized it was in the palm of his hand- he had forgotten to put it back on.
“Taeyong?” You furrowed your eyebrows when you realized he wasn’t moving anymore, a faraway look in his eyes. “Are you oka-” You trailed off when you followed his line of sight, not really knowing what you were looking at until you saw the smallest flash.
Oh.
He reached out and slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer in a way that shielded your face from the camera- or cameras, who knew- and lowered his head until his lips were just barely brushing against your earlobe. The contact had you suck in a breath, registering the warmth of his fingers through the thin fabric of your tee-shirt, just barely there.
“You wanted excitement, hm?” Your eyes widened and he slipped his hand down to yours, intertwining your fingers and giving you one of those cocksure looks of his. The way your hand fit in perfectly with his, interlocked as they had always meant to be like that made you want to keep it like that forever.
“How does running from the paparazzi sound?”
And then, before you could even think about responding to that suggestion of his, he pulled you along, breaking into a sprint that you had no choice but to join him in. Like clockwork, the cameras and reporters that were trailing you silently came out of hiding to follow suit, knowing that even a few words from the man you were with were going to be extremely valuable.
The thing about spur-of-the-moment decisions was that they always felt exhilarating, a feeling that would forever be arduous to put into words because there didn’t seem to be any that were good enough for the description. The monotone yet stunning city around you faded away as you focused on the equally, if not more, stunning man in front of you.
He turned around to glance back at you as the both of you took off, and it was then you caught the grin he wore on his face, the sparkling in his eyes that told you that he too felt the same rush you did. It wasn’t the first time he had ever experienced it, but now that you were there, it felt different, like it was familiar in a foreign sense. Your smaller hand grasped his with such trust that you knew he would somehow manage to extract the two of you out of the situation, cold against his warmer one.
You didn’t think you had ever seen something as enchanting as Taeyongs smile, even though you could barely focus on it right then. From the way, the edges of his mouth dug into the crevice of his face and little dimples popped up on his cheeks to the crinkling of the skin around his eyes in joy.
Spotting a cab on the side of the street, he slowed down and prompted you to do so as well, stopping near it and deftly opening the door to the backseat to help you inside. You did so wordlessly, but your breathing had turned a little shallow from the small sprint and you couldn’t relax just yet, watching anxiously through the glass of the car to see the press closen in.
“Drive,” He instructed the man in the front, who was evidently surprised at the sudden occupying of his cab. Stammering, he twisted the keys in the ignition.
“Where to, sir?”
“JUST DRIVE!” Taeyong raised his voice to express his urgency. “Please, as fast as you can and away from here.”
The entire thing was bizarre, and then when the car started moving in the opposite direction to the paparazzi following you, you finally leaned back in the rough faux leather seats. You allowed yourself to glance to your side at the man by your side, who always seemed to finally be relaxing, and when his eyes met yours, there was a beat of silence.
And then you began laughing.
The sound came out a lot louder than you thought it would, but you couldn’t stop, hand pressed to your stomach in an attempt to control yourself. The rush of adrenaline had resulted in everything seeming so funny to you, because who would have ever expected you of all people to be running away from the paparazzi with a world-famous rockstar by your side? Even the concept was outlandish.
When Taeyong laughed along with you, you stopped trying to hold your amusement back. You let yourself lean into him in a mixture of bafflement and hilarity, moving your hand to cover your mouth to stifle the giggles that left it.
“That was insane!” You exclaimed breathily, looking up at him. “My god.”
He had been worried for a minute there when he got into the cab, worried that you would have thought he was too much trouble, and it would have been warranted too, but the way you were looking at him right then like you would give anything to experience that again, assured him that wasn’t the case. Right then, it was the first time he noticed just how infectious your laughter was, and he was proud to be at least partly the cause of it.
“Exciting enough?” He asked hopefully, and you nodded enthusiastically, drunk off the feeling
“I know you probably deal with that a lot,” You said between breaths, “But that was a once-of-a-lifetime experience for me.”
The contrast of your two lives hammered against each other but you had somehow managed to find a sliver of common ground. While he loved attention, he had gotten annoyed over never being able to do normal things alone over the years, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, it didn’t feel like that.
“Hey, aren’t you one of those guys from that band? My daughter loves you.”
The driver’s New York drawl cut through the little bubble that encased the two of you, and Taeyong smiled and winked. “Tell her she has good taste.”
“Think I can get an autograph for her?” The driver picked a small piece of paper from the cupholder beside him, one that looked like a parking ticket and turned it over, handing it to Taeyong when the singer nodded. “Gimme a sec to find a pen, she better not give me that attitude of hers ever again after this!”
He signed the ticket- with such fluidity that it left you to watch in awe at how natural it was- and gave it back, telling the driver the destination as well, which was the stadium at which the buses were parked.
When you were back, Irene stood there with her trademark glare plastered across her face. Doyoung looked a little baffled, but only shot Taeyong a look that you couldn’t decipher. The latter ignored both, walking with you into the bus. There were so many people and he still somehow managed to make you feel like the only person in the world, and you found yourself hoping that running from the paparazzi with him wouldn’t just be a one-time thing.
“Thank you,” You said sincerely, “For today, I mean.”
“Don’t mention it,” He waved it off, but you shook your head, reaching out and grabbing his hand once again. The act caught him off guard, but he didn’t once pull away or even attempt to do so.
“I want to mention it Taeyong, it might not seem like much to you but….you gave me a part of my dream. You deserve to be thanked for that.” You had so many dreams, some being much too big for your own good, but today felt like you were finally inching closer to one of them instead of only being in the process of doing so.
He squeezed your hand. “And you should never have to thank me for that.”
Right then, it was when the anvil of guilt settled deep in the pit of your stomach because it was then you knew that you couldn’t write that exposé, even if Johnny had said it wasn’t one. When you were good at what you did, you learned to read in between the lines, and this article was exactly that- one that was supposed to be written to fuck over Cherry Bomb.
LEE TAEYONG SNUGGLING UP IN NEW YORK CITY!
We’ve seen him stumble out of bars and parties with a girl, but never during the day! Folks, this might be the first time we’ve ever seen the twenty-three-year-old heartthrob looking relatively sober with the opposite sex!
They were first spotted at a café, though due to the angle at which the pictures were taken you cannot see the woman’s face, it was definitely Lee sitting opposite her as the two chatted amicably, before leaving to walk with each other until they realized they were being followed and made a run for it.
He seemed protective of the girl, going so far as to make sure no one caught her face, which begs the question: who is she? Who is the possible woman who has managed to incite such a reaction in Lee Taeyong? More importantly, is there a possibility of romance on the horizon for the rockstar? All these questions that we are just dying to find out!
- Rolling Stone.
There was a certain fragility in being presented with something you were supposed to be good at, only to come out of the act fruitless.
With your fingertips pressed to the keys of your laptop, you seemed to forget every piece of knowledge you possessed on the art of writing, your mind going blank as you stared at the empty document that seemed to mock you. Words expertly evaded you and every sentence that you tried putting out sounded wrong.
Now, how were you to write an article that was supposed to deliver the truth while sounding sure of itself when you didn’t hold those sentiments just yet? It was a near impossible feat, and you sighed frustratedly, pressing down onto the keys and producing an incoherent string of letters that meant nothing, which was oddly fitting to your state of mind right then.
When you were younger and in college, you had prided yourself on being one of the best writers on the college paper, with a talent to compile research and information interestingly. It was what helped you through your first months working at The Link when the only topics you got were uninteresting ones.
You have always been a driven person, determined to reach your goals by any means possible. The first great article you had written was for the college paper in your freshman year and had been a ruthless piece about the best player on the soccer team using steroids. The team hated you after that since it had cost them their winning streak, but the editor of the paper at the time absolutely adored you for it.
That experience was the one from which you learned that the journalism industry lived off stepping on others’ toes, whether your intentions were right or wrong. You tried your best to ignore the selfish side of journalism, but it made you a hypocrite because you had always been the type of person to strive for what she wanted no matter the consequences it had for others.
It was at times like these when you truly hated writing. You hated what it could potentially turn people into.
“Y/n?”
You looked up to see Huang Renjun standing there, holding what looked like a magazine with a concerned look on his face. Ever since the day you had overheard his conversation with your boss, you had done your best to steer clear of the man to avoid complicating things for yourself.
“Yes?” You had no choice but to entertain him now, unfortunately, since the best of the band was at rehearsals and you were alone on the bus- save for Renjun, of course. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” He shook his head from side to side at first, before changing the direction and bobbing it up and down. “Yes, actually, I need to talk to you for a minute.”
Most people would have asked for that minute, but Renjun simply demanded it. You supposed that being a publicist had instilled that sense of entitlement in him, or maybe it was just a quality that he was required to have, to be able to grasp the attention of those he spoke to and lay down the rules he expected to be followed.
You momentarily wondered if that was how he managed to not be caught for what he had done yet, recollecting the wording he had used with Johnny. Smiling, you nodded and closed your laptop just enough to silently give him the respect he desired while talking to you, but open enough so that the light from the screen didn’t go out.
“Of course, go ahead.” The repeated warning of having to remain professional rang in your head and it was at that exact moment when you registered that you barely told yourself to do so around the band, and never around Taeyong.
“Well, this article was released today and I think you’re the woman in the pictures attached,” He said nervously, handing it over. You narrowed your eyes and scanned the words, before acknowledging the slightly blurry pictures of you and Taeyong, one with his arm around your waist and the other with your hands joined together. Your face wasn’t visible in either, thankfully.
“Oh,” You said a little awkwardly. “Yes that is me, he wanted to show me this café he liked and we weren’t as careful as we should have been. I’m sorry if this causes any trouble.” Your apology was genuine, and Renjun couldn’t help but sigh.
“You…..know why you’re here, right?”
It was the way he said it that put you off, cautious and calculating like he was testing you. Funnily enough, you were set out to fail, and you were a-okay with it.
“To write an article,” You said plainly and the expression on his face switched like he had put on a mask, forcing a smile that was painfully polite, before thanking you and leaving. You had confirmed his fear, that you had no clue what was going on.
Unbeknownst to you, Taeyong was being talked to by Irene, and the conversation had started out similarly enough, before taking an entirely different direction.
“Is that you with Y/n on here?”
Taeyong nodded, though it was a little noncommittal.
“And you were so careless that you were caught by the very people you’re not supposed to?” She was tapping her foot on the ground backstage impatiently now, one hand resting on her hip and the other holding the magazine. Between rehearsals, she had dragged him off stage to confront him about what had happened.
“Yep, sorry about that, by the way. I just wanted to hang out with her for a bit.” He didn’t need Irene to tell him he had fucked up, he knew that well enough for himself. He just thought that it had been worth it considering the reaction it had pulled out of you.
His manager stayed silent, and he mentally prepared himself for yet another one of her exasperated scoldings that she kept specially for him. While he did that, he glanced longingly out at the stage where the rest of his mates practised their parts, simpering a tad at how it sounded a little empty without him. That was one thing he always loved about the band, the fact that without one of them, it didn’t sound like Cherry Bomb. They were a team to the very end.
“Thats….actually genius.”
Pure confusion took over as he frowned. It sounded like a compliment, but he couldn’t be too sure since it felt like he should have been in trouble for being reckless again. “I’m sorry?”
“I said, it’s genius. Winning the journalist over? Amazing!” She clapped gleefully, all signs of apparent agitation missing from her face, before sobering up once again. “I know I’m hard on you Taeyong, but I have noticed the effort you’ve made this time around.”
(He decided to not tell her about the time he took you to a party where Mark and Yuta smoked a joint in front of you.)
Had he made an effort? He didn’t know considering it wasn’t like he had been making a conscious effort to do so by any means. What he did know was that he didn’t like the implications that came with what Irene was saying, the implication that he was putting up a front to get a good ‘review’, in a sense, out of you.
Taeyong was not doing that. He genuinely wanted to show you the two places he treasured the most in New York and liked talking to you. He liked the way you smiled first with your eyes and then with your mouth, always in that order. If it was with your mouth first, it was a fake smile.
“Right,” He said haltingly. “Thank you? I feel bad about causing a commotion though, I know you hate dating scandals.”
That was right, Irene hated when Taeyong was pulled into dating scandals because of how often it happened. People loved speculating about who he could possibly be with and it had always been wrong. He had never done relationships, he was in a committed one with his guitar and music.
“I do, but I’ll let it slide this time, especially since I don’t think it will turn into one.” The grin she wore was larger than life itself, “Winning her over is the smartest thing you could possibly do, and don’t worry too much about the repercussions. You did that café a favour if anything. Their business is going to boom.”
He was happy about that, of course, he was, but all he could hope for was that it wouldn’t lose its charm. He also knew that he had to keep everyone happy, something that was so impossible for one person to do, but it was a burden he had to carry anyway. He nodded. “She seemed happy, so I’d say I won her over.”
“Good,” Irene smiled proudly, and the expression didn’t give him that gratifying feeling it once did.
Insomnia was turning out to be a good friend of yours.
You had read somewhere that the human brain was set in a way that when a question was proposed to it, it always wanted to find an answer, like a computer that had been programmed to do so. Some people used that to their advantage while studying, and it was a very effective method from what you had seen.
Right now though, you weren’t too pleased considering it was why you were lying awake in your tiny little bed. Your mind was racing and begging for answers you didn’t have to satiate it, and you were left being restless, trying to ignore the itch that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you tried to calm it down.
Goddamnit.
You sat up, a disgruntled expression on your face as you did so, trying to ignore the prickle of goosebumps that had appeared on your arms and the dryness in your throat, but when the cold nipped at your skin harshly, you decided it was time to solve both those problems. Throwing your legs over the side of the small bed, you got to your feet and then immediately crouched as you approached your suitcase, slowly unzipping it and producing a sweater.
Once you had put it on, you stood up and softly padded down the stairs to the small kitchen on the bus to grab yourself some water.
At first, you went straight to the kitchen, finding the cupboard that held the glasses with little trouble, poured yourself a glass of water and sipped it with every intention of going straight back to bed and forcing yourself to succumb to sleep. You liked to sleep, sleep was good and kept you from being irritable during the day.
But when you stood at the doorframe of the kitchen, it was then you noticed the dim lights and the silhouette sitting on the floor; a silhouette that had been haunting your thoughts for a better part of the two months you had spent on this tour trying to ignore it. You sucked in a breath, before finally succumbing to all the questions your mind was throwing at you.
Stupid brain.
You had to know the truth for it had been eating at you for so long now, and you were going to get it right now.
“Taeyong?” At your soft voice, the man looked up, squinting slightly to make out your figure in the darkness. In one hand he held a glass of some alcoholic drink and in the other something that looked like a cigarette- or maybe it was a pencil. You couldn’t be too sure.
“Y/n,” He said your name slowly, deliberatively even. “Hey.”
He sat on the floor, legs bent at the knees with his arms resting on them casually, the sight strangely domestic. The slight shiver that raked down your spine at his voice always managed to take you by surprise, no matter how many times it happened.
“What are you doing up?” You started with the simplest question you could come up with, taking his greeting as an invitation to join him. Despite your glass being almost empty, you carried it with you anyway as you settled down beside him. He shrugged, taking a sip of the golden liquid that swirled in the glass he held before placing it down.
“Got inspired for some lyrics, what’s your excuse?” He waved to the small journal in front of him with his other hand, his tone light-hearted. It was a pencil.
‘You’ was the honest answer your brain presented you to that question. “Couldn’t sleep,” was the pathetic excuse you ended up going with. Suddenly, the lower section of the tour bus seemed a little too empty, and you peered through the darkness, noticing that it was because no one else was there. “Where is everyone?”
“Out,” He said, waving his hand about aimlessly. “Getting high or something, I don’t know.”
“You’re not with them,” you observed, saying it like a statement even though it was more of a prompt for him to elaborate on. He raised his glass with a wry smile, tilting his head towards it.
“I wanted to work on a song, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to miss out on the fun,” he leaned back a little against the couch and sighed. You were at a loss for words at what to say because there was no easy way to approach and tackle the subject that you most wanted to in a tactful manner. “I guess I just wanted to be alone for a bit.”
“Oh,” you felt a little idiotic right then. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Don’t,” he cut you off immediately. “Stay. My inspiration lasted about ten minutes before it fizzled out.”
“What usually inspires you?” You prodded, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your cheek against them so you could watch him, interlocking your warm fingers in front as you looped your arms around your legs. As a journalist that wrote for a newspaper, you were always being handed things to write about, so there wasn’t much room for inspiration per se, just skill and good research.
However, that wasn’t to say that you hadn’t entertained the idea of writing what you wanted, your own ideas and things plucked out of your imagination on occasion, but the problem with fiction was that as free as it sounded, it was never truly as free as one thought. That, and the fact that non-fiction was what was expected of you.
He thought about your question for a moment. “Inspiration is very unpredictable because you can get it from everywhere if you look hard enough for it. For example, take Jackson’s new song.”
“Jackson? Jackson Wang?” You asked incredulously, and he nodded.
“Yep, his new song Blow? He showed me some of the writing process and most people think it’s this sultry euphemism for a woman he’s sleeping with when in reality, it’s just about his damn cigarette.” He chuckled fondly at the recollection, remembering how dumbfounded he was when he found out himself, amused at the way your lips parted and eyes widened in bewilderment. Pressing his middle and index finger together, he brought it up to his mouth and then pulled it away by just moving his wrist, mimicking taking a drag.
“You’re kidding,” You weren’t sure if you were saying it out of mystification over the news that the song was supposed to be taken more literally than you had thought, or that Taeyong knew Jackson Wang. You reckoned that half of his charm came from the fact that one could continually forget he was famous while in his presence.
Taeyong smirked slightly, unable to stop himself from doing so at your expression. “Not at all. It’s just really easy to disguise a song as one out of love.” And with that, he turned his attention to the low ceiling of the bus, as if trying to peer out at the stars that were hidden from his view. You let yourself get carried away in the act of trying to read his mind and what he was thinking for a minute, before shaking yourself out of it after failing spectacularly.
“So what inspires you?” You repeated your previous words, “Not others, you.”
Another sigh escaped those crimson lips of his, clicking his tongue in a mixture of frustration and exasperation. “That’s a hard question, reporter, go easy on me, won’t you?” He was teasing you, light-hearted teasing that went straight to your head.
Evidently, your head wasn’t working well because you decided that it was the perfect moment to spring the million-dollar, definitely not an easy question on him. “Is it true?”
He raised an eyebrow at your abrupt blurting out of the painfully vague question. You wondered how you dared to call yourself a professional journalist when this was how you presented yourself at times.
“Is what true?”
“Did you sleep your way to the top?”
Pin. Drop. Silence.
From the very moment the words left your lips, you knew you fucked up. They had sounded so unbelievably wrong even as you were pronouncing them so impetuously on your tongue, a tongue that you now bit down on hard in regret. You briefly entertained the concept of time travel, solely so you could go back and slap a hand over your past self from two minutes ago before she could ask the one that had been relentlessly plaguing her.
“The thing about inspiration,” He started slowly, cautiously even, “Is that people don’t realize it’s dependent on motivation, and those two things were very different. His eyes were trained on you now, unwavering, and you noticed how intense they were even in the dark, somehow seeming to be void of any colour while having little golden freckles of light like the drink in his glass dancing around in them at the same time. “Some are lucky to have both of those things present at the same time, others- not so much.”
You had no idea where this was going, but you knew that it was in your best interest to keep your mouth shut and listen, especially with how serious he was.
“Motivation is what keeps me going every day,” He said haltingly, ignoring the cool draft of air that danced around his feet, “And inspiration rolls around when I’m most motivated. It’s how we write our music. Every song on all the albums we’ve done has come out of our studio and ourselves.” His jaw spasmed with the offence. “So no, I didn’t sleep my way to the top, Y/n, our music got us there fair and square.”
All the things you could have been and you chose to be a first-class jerk, but the firmness in his voice was all the proof you needed. The article was a lie, Jungwoo was a liar and Renjun was a cheating rat. Culpability settled deep in your gut, this time without the intention of ever leaving.
“I believe you.”
The sheer conviction in your voice surprised him, and so did the way you were looking at him, with that same determined look you always wore, but this time it was directed at him. You truly did believe every word that had come out of his mouth and he couldn’t have been more grateful because he hadn’t heard those three words in so long.
I believe you- not from his manager, his team, or even his bandmates. They thought it, of course, they did, he was sure of that, but they never said it aloud to assure him of it. All they did was remind him of what he had to do to fix the messes he always managed to stumble into, willingly or not. When you said it, it was like the weight he had been carrying around for so long slipped off his shoulders and let him stand up straight for the first time in a long time.
“You do?” You hadn’t expected the undertone of vulnerability that came along with how he said that, the earnest hope that so subtly accompanied it.
You nodded, locking eyes with him without the intention of ever looking away. You believed him so much that it was killing you a little because you had seen the hurt that flickered in his otherwise calm expression, the poker face he had perfected after all these years of wearing it. You didn’t have to repeat it because you somehow knew that it had settled in and made the impression you had wanted it to already.
Taeyong looked away first, but not entirely. His eyes fell to your lips, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, your mind running at a mile a minute the moment he did. The air between your bodies turned to electric static and nothing more, a magnetic pull that beckoned you closer to him as if you weren’t already right by his side.
It was that vulnerability and your pure acceptance that tipped him over completely and he willingly let go.
His lips met yours delicately, ghosting over yours as your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, heart hammering through the confines of your chest, begging for freedom and solace in his hands, for it was fairly obvious that he had managed to snatch it away before you even noticed it wasn’t yours to claim anymore. As if sensing the fearful hesitance in the way he just barely brushed his mouth against yours, you let all of your inhibitions go and let your mind go blank as you pressed your lips back against his.
Somewhere through the seconds of your lip-lock, his hand cupped your jaw, calloused fingers holding you gently as his thumb brushed against your cheekbone, lulling you further into him. You could taste the whiskey on his lips, coaxing the guilt out of your system and replacing its heaviness with a warmth you couldn’t quite put your finger on, focusing on the way he kissed you. You basked in the way he moved his lips by yours as if he was memorizing every little thing about them, like a sunflower standing proud in the presence of the sun's rays.
When he pulled back slightly you found yourself chasing his lips, reaching out and tugging on the material of his shirt as you eagerly met him halfway once again and it was when you finally understood how addictions came to be. He lit a fire under the expanse of your skin, a fire you never wanted to put out for as long as you lived, to let it burn until it consumed your very being.
You weren’t sure when the both of you broke away from each other’s mouths, still buzzing from the pure intoxication he had provided you with. You were much closer than before, so much so that his hot breath mingled with yours as his forehead pressed against yours, and you stayed like that for a few minutes until his hand slipped gently into your hair.
“Thank you,” He breathed out quietly, staying like that. A fluttery jab hit you right in your chest at that, and you reached up until your hand was on his, deciding that everything else could afford to take a backseat if you were allowed to be in his arms like this, even for just a few more minutes. Somehow, you managed to find your voice despite being sure you had lost it the moment this bewitching man kissed you to echo.
“I believe you.”
And then perhaps you finally let yourself fall, but not aimlessly like you had in the past. Unprecedented, you let yourself finally entertain the idea of falling in love.
“Hello, this is Kim Jungwoo speaking.”
In truth, you weren’t too fond of confrontation. You were about to cut the call the moment the second ring buzzed through your device, but your tenacity prevailed, coaxing you to hold on until he picked up. You gripped your phone a little tighter, trying to ignore the sudden dampness of your palms.
“Jungwoo,” You started, putting on a professional tone for the sake of the call. “This is Y/n L/n from The Link, I apologize for the sudden nature of this call, but do you have a few minutes?”
To some, loose ends provided an area for speculation, where they could freely put out their thoughts into the world all while protecting themselves by mentioning it was all ‘alleged’. You had never been one to endorse speculation, especially when you had pretty darn good evidence pointing towards what was the truth. Jungwoo was the loose end you were going to tie up.
“Y/n! Oh hey, yeah sure, is something wrong?” You could hear the mild recognition in his voice- he just barely remembered who you were, you were sure, but that was to be expected. He was senior to you and had been working at The Link for much longer as well, so the most he would have known about your existence was the fact that you spent a whole three months running around and getting people their coffee.
Yes, you almost said, more distressed over the situation than you cared to admit. Although he couldn’t see it, you shook your head as you spoke, “Not at all! I just have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Knock yourself out.” You heard some shuffling from his head and you exhaled, mentally applauding yourself for making it this far. Now that you had taken the first step, the rest of it shouldn’t be too hard, and you sat up straight as if you were interviewing him, gathering all your thoughts.
“Give me a minute,” You pulled the phone away from your ear before he could respond, making sure that the call was being recorded, before putting it back. Usually, you would have put the call on speaker so it would be easier to take notes, but this was a special case. You couldn’t afford the consequences of anyone listening in. “Alright, it’s my understanding that you were assigned a piece of Cherry Bomb a few months ago?”
“I was.”
“And you pulled out last minute,” You continued, tapping your nails on the small table in front of you rhythmically.
“That is true, yes, but what is this about?” He was very obviously confused, unaware of the direction that you were about to take the conversation.
“Well, you see, I was put in your place to accompany the band on tour, but a few interesting things came up and I thought that it would be best if I asked you about it since it seems like you would know the most.” Your explanation was logical, you had taken a lot of time planning exactly how this was going to go in your head, keeping your tone calm and composed as you glanced down at the ticking hands on your watch. The afternoon was dipping into the evening.
He hummed unassumingly, “Alright, go ahead.”
“Why did you refuse to write the article?”
“Family emergency.” His answer was painfully generic, you had to pinch your lips to stop yourself from outright snorting at it.
“But it’s such a valuable piece to have under your belt, Johnny mentioned that it could get you a spot at the NYT.” It was probably not a very wise decision to so blatantly and harshly press on for what could technically be classified as personal information from someone senior to you, but it was what you had to do.
He bristled a little, tsking over the phone. “Are you insinuating that a job offer is more important than family, Miss L/n?”
“I’m insinuating that you’re lying to me,” You replied, uncompromising to his attempt at gaining the upper hand. Now, this was a pretty big claim to put out there, but you knew you were right, and you were getting tired of people thinking you were so gullible and underestimating you.
“You wrote the piece on Taeyong.” You made no effort in beating around the bush, nor did you pose it as a question for his leisure, instead stating it as it was. A lesson that you were quickly learning was that you weren’t going to get anything unless you fought for it and you were going to fight for this just as you fought for your spot on the tour.
Funnily enough, you weren’t exactly fighting for yourself this time.
“I’m sorry?”
“The anonymous piece about Lee Taeyong,” you clarified, not an ounce of hesitance in your voice. “I heard your source speak to the editor a few weeks ago and everything fell into place, especially when he came around to ask me if I knew why I was there.” The silence that followed your words was extremely gratifying because it told you that you had made the right assumption.
“What do you want, Y/n?” He asked, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that it hinged along the lines of a threat with how low his voice was. You pressed your lips together, swallowing the annoyance that had sprung forth with how he was speaking to you. You fisted the fingers of your other hand, feeling your nails dig into the cold skin of your palm.
“I want the real reason you dropped the piece, Jungwoo,” You used his first name, in the same manner, he used yours, forcing yourself to calm down, leaning back in the small chair you sat in and letting out a controlled sigh. One thing you couldn’t afford to do was lose control.
He guffawed, “And pray tell, what do you think that is?”
Frustration drummed through your veins at his obvious dismissal, the scrutiny in the way he spoke to you. “You’re scared of getting caught because you know it’s a fabrication.”
“Is it?” He was playing it coy now, and your temper made a surprising show as it bubbled up to the base of your throat, threatening to spill out. You weren’t one to so quickly let an intense emotion wash over you like this, so it caught you off guard as well, leaving you to swallow it down along with the lump in your throat.
“You know damn well it is,” You hissed into the mic of your phone, gripping the edge of the table to keep yourself grounded. “He didn’t do anything of the sort and you’re scared of getting caught because of what you did because it would easily tie back to you. It’s why you wrote the piece anonymously.”
“Oh cut the act Y/n, I didn’t do it because I have anything against the man, I did it because I was offered the prettiest paycheque you could ever lay your eyes on for it. And Taeyong is a celebrity, several celebrities have done what I accused him of.”
“It’s wrong,” You said, utterly flabbergasted over how unbothered Jungwoo was over the entire thing. “Just because others have doesn’t mean he has, I know he hasn’t.”
All at once, it made sense why you were so earnest in your rage towards the man, you were angry because it was hurting Taeyong more than he let you. You saw a glimpse of it that night when he kissed you and the way he relaxed in your touch when you told him you trusted him. You discovered what a lovely being he was, even if it consisted of poorly hidden rendezvous that had you being discovered almost every time, but he never seemed too concerned.
Nothing warranted him having to deal with the consequences of Jungwoo’s actions. You had learned that over the past few weeks that you had permitted yourself to get tied up in the whirlwind of chaos that consisted of his world. You learned that you liked it a little too much.
You thought of the way he looked at you when you told him you believed him. The smile that curled his lips when he saw you.
He didn’t deserve that at all.
It hit you then, just how deceptive it was for you to claim that he didn’t deserve all this and that you cared for him when you were one of the main contributors. Were you not the person who had to write an article about him? Weren’t you the person who had jumped at the opportunity to write it just so it could benefit you? And from the looks of things, you were meant to write a piece to feed into the created narrative.
You would tell him. You had to tell him because it was the right thing to do.
Just not yet.
“Please, he’s a grown-ass man who is filthy rich, you don’t have to go around defending him.” The sneer in his voice did not go unnoticed by you, causing you to grind your teeth together in an attempt to not lash out at the pompous man. How dare he have the audacity to pretend he was better than you for spewing his lies and boasting about the money he got for it.
There was no point in arguing with Jungwoo; that much was clear from your short exchange with him, and you cleared your throat so you sounded composed. “Thank you for your time, Mr Kim.”
“Good luck with your article, Y/n, have fun playing hero if you must.”
You cut the call, biting down so hard on your tongue that it hurt to stop yourself from possibly lashing out against the man. Bringing your phone down, you stared at the screen in candid incredulity at how a person could be so selfish so as to endanger someone else's career- hell, this was Taeyong’s entire life on the line!- to further theirs, especially when it wasn’t warranted in the slightest.
You narrowed your eyes and pressed the icon for the recording app, your frown slipping into a sly smile as you saw the recorded log that sat atop all the others with the day's date.
Gotcha.
The first day of July brought in the middle of the summer, the clouds turning luminous as they passed by the sun, letting its beams flicker through and warm up the world below. Taking in a deep breath, you smiled when you made your way downstairs to greet the band that morning- and one of them in particular, because your trusty research had told you that the summer wasn’t the only thing that the first of July graced with its presence.
It was Taeyong’s twenty-fourth birthday and the day of yet another one of their shows, but this time everyone seemed to be more relaxed, smiles on their faces due to the occasion. You had never thought about how one would go about celebrating their birthday on the road, but since you were directly involved this time, you pushed your tribulations with Jungwoo to the back of your mind as you slipped into the kitchen and gripped the handle of the fridge, pulling it open to see the brown box that sat on the third shelf.
The day before, you had helped the rest of the band inconspicuously get a cake in his favourite flavour- green tea- and had it decorated with white and pink frosting, his favourite colour. It had taken you two hours to find a bakery that sold the specific flavour in San Fransisco, and by the end of it, you found yourself very lost in the new city. Thankfully, you had the boon of Google Maps to assist you in your journey back and had managed to hide it in the kitchen with the man of the day being none the wiser.
His liking of green tea cake was only the first of his many odd quirks that you had come to learn and subconsciously smile at the thought of, things that one couldn’t find through a simple google search. He bought lego sets in his free time and built them, apparently displaying all his creations on a shelf at his house, his comfort movie was Howl’s Moving Castle, and he had a hobby of buying and building a collection of unique shoes that he somehow managed to pull off and had a penchant for sweet snacks.
Taeyong was loveable in every sense, so naturally, it was so easy to fall in love with him.
“Doyoung, not the hair!”
His voice rang out, laced in mock annoyance and you rolled your eyes, shutting the fridge and walking out into the main lounge area, only to see the usually stoic man practically on top of Taeyong. Although he was generally calmer than the others, you had quickly picked up on the dynamic between him and Taeyong, which resembled something like Tom and Jerry, the two always looking for reasons to bicker.
“You’re old now,” He said, messing up his hair, much to the birthday boy’s despair, “How does it feel?”
“I don’t know, about as boring as you are.”
“Fuck off- oh, hey Y/n.” Doyoung finally stopped troubling Taeyong to greet you, also catching the attention of the latter, who glanced up to see you standing there with an amused grin on your face. It was always entertaining to watch the band interact with each other, it reminded you that under all the glamour and popularity they possessed, they were just a bunch of guys having fun.
“Hey,” You giggled at the sight, folding your arms as you leaned against the metal frame that separated the lounge from the kitchen area and biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from snorting at the way Taeyong’s hair adorably stuck up in different directions due to his friend's ministrations. “Looks like you’re having fun.”
“They’ve been doing this since the moment I woke up,” He all but whined, staring at you keenly with those captivating eyes of his softer than usual, as if urging you to help get him out of that situation. It was then you noticed him as a whole, from the sweatpants that hung low on his hips to his lack of shirt.
Bloody hell, did he have to look like this in the morning?
Even at nine in the morning, he looked stunning and as if this was a good enough reason to be annoyed, you let your eyes wander for a minute, lingering on the tattoos that decorated the expanse of his pale skin. Then you looked back up, pushing down the warmth that was creeping up onto your face, and smiled.
“Happy birthday.”
Taeyong ran a hand through his hair to try and fix it, his own simper making a show. “Thank you, baby.”
Oh, did we talk about the nicknames? It should have been illegal for a man this ravishing to be able to pull off saying terms of endearance and manage to have your heart skip a beat while he did. Doyoung pretended to gag and walked away, shooting you a look that you couldn’t read before leaving the bus. You paid it no mind as you made your way towards Taeyong, reaching up so that your arms looped up around his neck, and pulled him down to meet your lips in a sweet kiss.
His hands quickly found purchase on your hips as he chuckled lightly, the sound going straight to your stomach. You had grown very accustomed to kissing him and loved every second of it, even if sometimes those kisses were embarrassingly long. He was positively irresistible, that much you were certain of, and every interaction you shared with him never failed to pull you in.
So perhaps you were a little in over your head when it came to Taeyong, but by god, was it worth it.
“Oh, I like this birthday gift,” He quipped, kissing the side of your mouth and then tugging you closer so your body was flush against his, arms securely around your waist. You felt flushed but didn’t let it stop you from burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne deeply as if you were trying to memorize it.
“How much?”
“Kiss me again and you’ll find out.” An offer you took up all too easily, especially with the taunting smirk that clung to his lips and the mischievous look in those hooded eyes of his, a look that always managed to elicit a delicious shiver from you. This time, the kiss was slower but just as dizzying and you couldn’t help but sigh, embracing the hotness that invaded your cheeks.
You were so preoccupied with him that you didn’t notice the door of the bus crack open a little and the pair of eyes that watched the two of you. You broke away from the heated kiss, unable to stop the idiotic smile from blooming on your face as you pushed him away playfully.
“I think I’m an excellent gift giver.” You winked, straightening out your outfit, “Now shoo, you have rehearsal.”
“Trying to get rid of me on my birthday? You wound me, Y/n.” He dramatically placed his hand over his heart, putting on a sorrowful expression that had you rolling your eyes in a combination of exasperation and amusement.
You shook your head and some of your hair out of your face in the process, proceeding to complain even though it held no real displeasure, “I have to work, even if it’s your birthday, and you’re very distracting.”
“That’s a you problem,” He mumbled cheekily, not looking away from you even once, a gesture that woke those butterflies that seemed to have moved into the pit of your stomach once again. When you shot him a warning look that wasn’t threatening in the slightest, he fought a smile and raised his hands to the sides of his head in defence. “But fine, if you must.”
You waved him off, letting out a sound of protest when he stole a kiss from you which left you with the objection stuck in your throat, but you acquiesced. By the time they would be done, you would have at least managed to finish up some of your work along with setting up the cake that you had spent so long scavenging for, and Mark was going to leave rehearsals a little earlier so he could help you.
“Have fun birthday boy,” You mumbled fondly, touching your lips as if silently questioning where all your reminders of professionalism went. “And put on a damn shirt!”
~
Irene's heels clicked on the pavement as she walked away from the tour bus after she made sure the door was closed, with her head held high as it always was, refusing to show even a hint of what she had just seen on it. After years of practice, she had gotten very good at controlling her expressions when needed.
She supposed that in some way this was her fault. After all, she was the one who told Taeyong to get on your good side for the sake of the article because of dire the situation was. She hadn’t exactly given him a manual to tell him how to go about it, had she? Winning you over would mean winning a battle.
So when Doyoung came up to her and told her that Taeyong was kissing you, all she could think was ‘Well that’s certainly one way to do it.’
As Cherry Bomb’s manager, it was her job to weigh the pros and cons of every situation and decision made regarding the band's career. She had been doing it for the past five years and had always managed to make sure they stayed on top of all the happenings, but hadn’t anticipated you to make such an….impact, to say the least. She was the one the agreed to have a journalist on board to make a good impact on would do wonders to extinguish the rumours that had been circulating.
The little affair between you and Taeyong wasn’t what she had expected to happen at all, so it fell under the category of being a complication, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was a bad thing. As long as they played it right, it would work out perfectly in their favour, and so she listed it as a pro.
For now.
She glanced down at the watch on her wrist, sighing when she realized that the rehearsals were starting a few minutes late due to the sound check taking extra time than usual. Usually, she would have hounded everyone to pick up their pace, but it was Taeyong’s birthday, and she did not want to intrude on your tryst back there with him. It was probably better if she didn’t, might make for an even nicer article.
Irene wasn’t one of the older managers, but she was a respected one because she knew how to get things done and she did it well. A lot of people asked her how it felt to manage the biggest band in the world, and how she was so good at what she did and her answer always consisted of the same smile and pretty thanks.
The real reason was too humiliating to actually talk about because it involved her past- the time before she was a manager because unfortunately, that did exist, even if she ignored it for the most part.
It was why she was so hard on the boys. She knew from personal experience that the smallest of slip-ups could lead to everything they had worked for crashing and burning.
When she was seventeen, she had been scouted to be a singer and she had been very good too, but before she could even come out as an artist, her label dropped her due to lies that another singer she had been briefly involved with had spread about her. At merely eighteen, it frustrated her to no end that the dream that she had worked for over a year had slipped out of her fingers just like that.
It didn’t just frustrate her- it stagnated her for three years until she decided that if she couldn’t be out on stage, she was going to be behind it and make sure no one else ever had to deal with that. The very moment she had laid eyes on the band when they first formed, she saw the drive that she once possessed in them and insisted on managing them after she trained to be a manager.
She was almost twenty-nine now, her chance at stardom had long faded with her youth, but she had settled for living vicariously through her boys. She loved them too much to let a rumour destroy them, especially when it was the very thing that destroyed her.
Seeing Taeyong being so affectionate with you was new, he had always been the wild card of the group, even if he was the oldest and the leader. He was never one to settle, so he must have really been pulling out all the stops to protect the group. Maybe she had underestimated him, but it was done in good spirit.
Under her care, she would make sure that they were untouchable if it was the last thing she did.
Even though every stadium they performed at was different, backstage always functioned with the same sort of organized unruliness no matter what. Over time, you had grown to appreciate how it worked, watching with the same wonder-stricken curiosity you always held with it came to it.
You were home- kind of. This particular concert was in LA, which was where you lived and worked and where the band resided as well, but funnily enough, it wasn’t their last show. They still had around one month of the tour left, before they left for the rest of the world tour.
“I think you’re in the wrong place, miss.”
An enthralled smile automatically tugged at your lips and you had to suppress the urge to groan and roll your eyes at how easily Taeyong managed to lift your spirits. Turning around, you faced him in all his pre-show glory as he stood there with that cocky look on his outlandishly handsome face, and raised an eyebrow in question.
“What do you mean?” And at that, he produced a slip of paper, holding it out in front of you like you were a cat and it was a piece of yarn. Frowning as you tried to figure out what it was, you grabbed his wrist and plucked it out from between his fingers. “What’s this?”
“A ticket,” He replied plainly, looking far too prideful for his own good. “I promised you that you would watch a show of ours one day, didn’t I? Today is that day, so you should get to your seat because I picked you a really nice one during rehearsals today. Empty stadiums are great for figuring these things out.”
Oh.
You stared at the ticket, strong emotion flickering in your chest when you realized he had remembered what you had told him almost three months ago at this point. The small paper crumbled a little at how tight you were holding it between your index finger and thumb. “Thank you,” You whispered, incredibly touched. “But really, you didn’t have to.”
He brushed it off immediately. “I don’t go back on my word, remember? Now get out there, and make sure to scream for me.”
Taeyong kept chipping in and fulfilling small dreams of yours little by little, and you wondered if your new dream included staying with him because it was sure starting to look like that. You nodded, slipping the ticket into your pocket and pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss and silent thanks, before bidding him farewell.
Now, you may have been used to the disorder backstage, but nothing could have ever prepared you for the pure pandemonium outside. The roar of anticipating fans echoed through the entire stadium, not leaving room for even a smidge of silence, and you pushed through to get to your seat and once you had arrived, you had to admit that it was a good one. It was five rows away from the stage, close enough to watch everything upfront without having to look at the huge screens, but far away enough to not have to crane your neck.
When the lights dimmed, part of you joined their excitement as your breath hitched in your throat, anticipation drumming through your veins as your eyes trained on the stage. You had missed the opening act (an LA-based singer called Joshua Hong, under the same label as the band but a smaller artist in terms of a following- apparently, he had gotten famous from his cover of ‘Sunday Morning’ going viral, and the rest was history. You had briefly met him when he had returned backstage after his set) but it had left everyone even more excited for the main act.
Suddenly the resounding beat of a bass drum echoed through the stadium, accompanied by a countdown and a spotlight shone on the middle of the stage as it rose, revealing the band bit by bit. The audience waited in bated breath as they came up, a static silence coating the place for a few seconds.
And when Taeyong sang the first lyric, standing there holding his bass guitar in the front, the entire amphitheatre erupted in screams.
The energy in there was absolutely indescribable, infectious in the best possible way. The entire band joined in with the drumming, their instruments forming a melody so perfect sounding in the grittiest way possible. You could barely hear them singing because of how loud their fans were, their combined voices overtaking the artists they were there to see in the first place.
Chaos. Beautiful, unmatched chaos.
You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out from your lips, left unnoticed as it was buried under all the cacophony and thousands of fans singing along to a song that they knew so well. After having done so much research and listening to their music in the process, you distinctly recalled the tune just enough to be able to hum along and participate in the smallest way.
The overwhelming glare of the lights illuminated them perfectly and you lost yourself in the music though you didn’t know much about it at all. From the pounding of Yuta’s precise drumming that acted as the backbone for it all to Doyoung’s flawless playing on the keys. The way Mark and Jeno’s respective parts on the guitars blended so well like they were one was a true testament to the artists they were.
But you were much too preoccupied with the frontman, who stood there, commanding every ounce of your attention with just his presence. He didn’t even have to look at what he was playing, automatically doing what he had to as if it had been written into his blood, tilting his head as he sang into the mic in front of him.
They belonged on that stage and were destined to stay on it for the rest of their lives, undoubtedly timeless.
Pride swelled in your chest as you watched the boys you had grown to love and closer to over the past three months as they harmonized while never losing their individual sounds for even a moment, one a little more than the others. One you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life watching.
You froze amidst mouthing along to the words that you had picked up on, inhaling sharply as the thought crossed your mind before you could stop it, so unexpected that it rendered you speechless.
Were you in love with Lee Taeyong?
The answer came to you so swiftly that it nearly knocked you off of your feet, grabbing you and opening your eyes to how you felt about the man. When he happened to look right where you were sitting because he had personally picked out your seat, and sang a particularly romantic line that was cloaked in heavy bass and crisp drumming, you knew.
When the song ended, they started another almost immediately after, this time changing it up so that it was catered to the audience’s interaction, which they gave all too eagerly, their energy at an all-time high as the night was still young. The smiles never faded from each member’s faces as they performed, unequivocally feeding off the enthusiasm that they were being presented with.
You finally understood the buzz around concerts, the absolute adrenaline rush that they gave a person from simply standing amongst the crowd because you were finally a part of it. Your experience was a little different, mixed in with the realization of another emotion, but you loved every second of it nevertheless. By the time they had finished the third song, you knew that this was going to be their best concert yet.
They stopped playing, and Taeyong pulled the mic in front of him out of its stand and walked to the front of the stage, revelling in the growing screams that accompanied his every move. Delighted goosebumps arose on his skin as he drank it all in, the feeling that he got at the start of every concert no matter how many of them he played. His signature smile that drove their fans crazy made a show as he lifted the mic to his lips.
“Hello Los Angeles, welcome to THE CHERRY ON TOP STADIUM TOUR!!!”
~
After talking with the audience for a bit, they continued with a few songs, even including a mashup of two of them that drove everyone wild. Their stage presence was insane, from the way they interacted with each other and everyone else in the stadium, and at one point even brought out another popular artist that was in LA at the time to join them in one of their songs.
They played Dark Clouds as a throwback to their beginnings, and then Blue, a heavier, more emotional song that was close to their hearts as well as the hearts of their fans, who somehow managed to scream along even to those delicate lyrics.
At one point, someone threw their bra on stage during one of the talking bits, leading to the very comical scene of Taeyong picking it up and hanging it on the end of his bass. Watching it happen was surreal, funny as hell, but so odd that you laughed hard along with everyone else. The sense of community that they created was admirable and you were grateful to be a part of it, even for just a few hours.
Truly, there weren’t enough words to describe the magnificence of the concert, the way the lighting ebbed and flowed according to the songs they performed and how the dancers that came out during specific performances put their best foot forward with everything they did. It was remarkably easy to see why Cherry Bomb was the best and why they would say the best.
The last song was an encore, a song that even you knew the lyrics to, bringing the enthusiasm that had dwindled ever so slightly from the start back to the area. When the last notes were played and the last lines were sung, and they thanked the crowd that night, you were surprised at the sudden emergence of tears in your eyes, emotional over the way it had ended so quickly.
It was the perfect ending to an impeccable show, one that would forever be engraved in your mind.
When the lights turned back on as they retreated backstage, it felt as if you were in the wrong place, like what you had just witnessed wasn’t reality in the slightly, but rather a beautiful dream you wished hadn’t ended. You stood there, staring blankly at the now deserted stage as the crowds dispersed, sobering up from the high they had gotten from the experience, hand stuffed in your pocket as you gripped the ticket tightly, unable to let go just yet.
You didn’t know how or when you managed to move again, snapping out of the spell the show had put you under, making your way to the front and to the door that led backstage, showing the guard that was stationed there the pass you had been issued at the start of the tour. Once you had walked inside, you possessed new respect for the work they did there, because there was no way the concert would have been as excellent as it was without those behind the scenes.
In the midst of it all, you saw Taeyong walking away from his mates, sipping on some water. He had lost the red leather jacket that he wore for every show, left in only a black vest that had a few buttons undone as they were, hair a little matted from the humidity. His eyes, however, were alight with a certain type of zeal that was the by-product of the adrenaline rush that no doubt coursed through his veins.
He was stunning.
He spotted you, pulling the bottle away from his mouth as he shot you a crooked little smile, and if you knew any better, you would have said that it held a hint of nervousness in it. Taking this as your cue, you began walking over, but before you knew it your walk turned into a sprint as you practically threw yourself in his arms, wrapping your arms tightly around him as you let him anchor you back down to earth.
“...So?” He asked, hand on the small of your back and other at the back of your head, securing your position. It scared you a tad, just how perfect it felt like there was nowhere else you would rather be.
“I loved it,” You whispered, fingers clinging to the thick material of his vest, the cool surface of the pins on them pressed against your skin. “God Taeyong that was….I can’t even begin to tell you how-”
He chuckled faintly, the enchanting sound getting lost in your hair as he tucked some of it behind your ear. “I hope it’s still the best show you’ve ever been to.”
“It always will be.” It was surprising how sure of that you were as you stepped out of his embrace, mildly embarrassed over how naturally you had run into his arms like it was something you had meant to do all this time. To rid your mind of that thought, you blurted out, “We should probably join the others and get to the cars so we can leave.”
You weren’t getting cold feet by any means, you were simply adjusting to the concept of loving him. Now that it had crossed your mind, it seemed like a permanent notion that wanted to stay and you weren’t used to the delight that accompanied it.
“We’re not going with them.” He stated mischievously.
“We’re not?” Your blatant confusion wasn’t lost on him, but if the look on his face told you anything, you would say that it was best to just follow along with what he had in mind. After all, you had been doing that for a bit now and it had always worked out in your favour.
Taeyong shook his head, his hand finding yours as he guided you out from backstage with the rest of the band, but then didn’t go in the car that the rest piled into, waving them off instead. With every passing moment, your curiosity grew and peaked when another car pulled up right where you were standing with him
“Most of the time when we’re in LA, we stay in this house that we have that’s close to our record label’s building.” He started to explain as he opened the car door for you, “But I actually have an apartment in the city, so I thought we could go back there tonight instead of back to the bus.”
He said this nonchalantly, but the meaning behind it was that he wanted to let you into his life a little more because it was becoming increasingly obvious that what he felt for you wasn’t temporary like it had been for other girls he had been with. Instead, it festered, amplifying with every minute he spent with you and surprisingly enough, he wasn’t against that possibility.
“Oh,” You whispered, voice oddly soft as if you had somehow picked up on this and were moved. The phantom of a smile danced on your lips as you nodded, slipping into the passenger seat as the driver got out of his, tipping his head to Taeyong and walking away. He took the driver's seat, started the car and looked at you through the rearview mirror.
Taeyong had always known he was a selfish person, and while some might have seen that as a flaw within themselves, he had never done that. He liked knowing what he wanted and getting it, but there was something about you that amplified that part of him because, with you, he wanted it all, even the things that weren’t possible due to who he was. Things he couldn’t have because of what he had played this relationship off as to the others.
Falling for someone was hard when the entire world could watch.
But being the selfish soul he was, he wanted it all. Perhaps it was a foolish notion to create and keep wishes that were much too out of his reach, yet the thought of discarding them never once occurred to him.
Much like Taeyong himself, his place was nothing like you expected but fit perfectly with who he was. It was massive, more appropriately called a penthouse, with huge windows and an interior that was on the expensive side, and when he switched the lights on you could see how it was minimally decorated, nothing too fancy since as he had told you before, he didn’t stay here very often, but with a pleasant ambience.
“I may have fibbed a little,” He admitted, a sheepish look slipping onto his features. Walking into the place, he placed the keys on the table with a soft clattering sound that seemed much louder than it was in the emptiness of the apartment.
“The apartment isn’t exactly what I wanted to show you.”
You raised a questioning eyebrow at this, “What is it then?”
He was just full of surprises, wasn’t he? If there was one thing he had taught you, it was how to appreciate the ‘magic of surprises’, as he had so eloquently put it all those weeks ago when it took you out in New York. Somehow, he always managed to spring one on your unsuspecting self whenever he pleased and you couldn’t find it in yourself to dislike it.
Taeyong gestured at you to follow him as he walked even further into the apartment, through a small corridor and into a bedroom, where he opened one of the closets to reveal a singular object sitting inside.
A guitar case.
He carefully picked it out, holding the rough fabric of the case as he unzipped it and let the top half fall open to reveal the neck of a guitar, which he gently gripped as he pulled it out.
It was a deep Walnut brown, lined with a lighter shade of the same colour that accentuated the edges and curves of the instrument. You walked forward to where he was standing slowly, studying the surface of the guitar once you were close enough to do so. He dropped the now empty case and it crumpled to the floor, already forgotten.
As he held the guitar up horizontally for you to gaze upon, you took note of the various little markings on the bottom that you couldn’t deduce to be accidental or on purpose, but it gave it character. You gently ran your fingers over them, briefly smiling at the small signature of an old artist that was planted off to the side of the guitar. It was a reminder, one that told you that he was once a wide-eyed fan in the crowd.
“I got this when I was twelve,” He said ardently, reminiscing the clear fond memories that came along with it. “It was my birthday and until then I had been using my dad’s old Gibson to learn how to play. When they presented me with this I was ecstatic because it was the very first guitar that I could call my own.”
A chuckle escaped his lips as he thought about it, running his fingers over the now loose strings- the result of being unused over the years. He toyed with the tuning heads aimlessly, a wistful expression twisted into the existing look on his face. “I named her Izabella- the same name that Jimi Hendrix named his most famous guitar because I wanted to be just as good as him someday.”
The image of a tween Taeyong filters through your mind, a short little kid sitting on the floor next to this huge present, a sparkle of excitement entering his eyes when he realised what his present was. You imagined his smaller figure holding it for the first time and naming it, vowing to be the best guitarist there was.
“I used her in all my school competitions, played at every event I could until I got into bass, and although it’s technically a different instrument, I practised on Izabella anyway.” He placed the instrument down with care, leaning it against the wall. “When I got my bass, I still played on her from time to time, but then I formed the band and slowly stopped paying attention to my first guitar, but I carried it with me when we moved to LA. “I guess that you could call it my first love.”
You stared at him intently as he looked at you properly with a boyish smile. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I tend to get caught up with music. Fuck, I even consider an instrument my first proper love.”
“It’s admirable,” You stated earnestly. He scoffed.
“And a little weird, no?” He took a step closer to you, tilting his head ever so slightly. “I care for you Y/n, but being with me…..it won’t be easy. The fans, the fact that I put my music before everything, the paparazzi waiting for every single mistake you commit- it’s not normal, but if you’re okay with it-”
He paused as if carefully thinking over the words that appeared to be so easy to put out when they left his lips.
“-I would love to keep you by my side.”
There it was again, that vulnerability that simultaneously warmed your heart whilst weighing it down with another bout of relentless guilt.
“Taeyong….” Your whisper trailed off into the silence of the apartment, hanging over your heads as you tried to pull yourself together, your affection for the man that stood in front of you finally blossoming into the beautiful rose that it had set out to be when it was merely budding. You thought about how fitting it was because of how much like a rose Taeyong was himself, delicate and beautiful but guarded with the thorns around it, untouchable.
You had to tell him.
Not soon, not later, now. You had to tell him right then as the wind beat gratingly against the windows, never once entering his space, leaving everything inside perfectly still.
“The piece I’m writing isn’t about the tour or the band.” You announced abruptly, swallowing the lump in your throat so that you could lay out the truth before him with utmost verity. His eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment as you spoke, knitting together endearingly.
“It’s about you.”
Faint amusement shone in his eyes. “They tend to be like that, yep.”
“No you don’t understand,” You shook your head, ignoring the anxious bristle of goosebumps that rose on your skin. “I didn’t realise it before, but this article was meant to be against you from the very start, I was meant to write a false exposé on you that rode off the one accusing you of sleeping your way to the top because the reporter who was initially supposed to come was the one that wrote it.”
Your voice wobbled a little, your nerves seeping into it before you could stop them from doing so. “I caught the person who leaked that information- the false information- to my editor a month or so ago and confronted the writer, who confessed. I didn’t know what this was but I promise I’m only going to write the truth.”
Flushed cheeks and heavy breathing, you stared at him almost desperately, waiting for something- any sort of reaction from him. You hadn’t realized how much you were scared of this moment until you plunged yourself into the deep end, confronting it head-on without thinking too much. The silence felt a beat too long.
His eyes softened at your integrity, the promise that you conveyed with your words for him. It only seemed fair to give you the same trust that you instilled in him.
“I believe you.”
Trust was a finicky concept, one that could make or break a person completely. His trust in you lifted the weight of carrying around the burden of the true nature of the article off your shoulders, and you exhaled in relief. “Then….I would love to be by your side, Taeyong.”
“Yeah?” His voice came out in a whisper, so close now that his breath tickled your lips. A challenge spoken with that smirk-clad mouth of his, one that only succeeded in bringing heat to your face with every teasing syllable. He believed you and that was all that mattered.
You didn’t make any motion to move away, instead, instinctively moved closer until your lips met his, a silent thank you and confirmation of what you wanted– him. He pulled you closer until your body was flush against his, not a breath of space between you as his fingers brushed against the exposed skin of your waist, slipping under your shirt to secure you in place as if someone could pull you away at any moment. You could feel the rhythm of his heart against yours and every point your body connected with his, hyper-aware of every little thing he did and the electrifying way he did it.
Your guilt was long forgotten, fading into the background as you fell into the sheets of his bed, entangling with him with every kiss and promise whispered against your skin. Your fingertips traced every tattoo you had previously only had the liberty to admire and the curve of his lips, fingers intertwined as you found refuge from the world and your troubles in the comforting embrace of his arms. You laid beside him, body curled into his side, so close that the hair that fell across his forehead brushed against your own, noses pressed together and lips just barely touching.
Taeyong couldn’t help but look at you- really look at you- as you slept, the way your eyelashes kissed your cheeks and cast shadows over your face, hiding your beautiful eyes from the world at that very moment in time, and sighed contentedly. You seemed to perfect there, under the linens of his bed that had always seemed a little too lonely for just him.
Maybe it was never supposed to be just for him to inhabit.
Carefully slipping out of the bed, he padded across the floor to a window, reaching for the packet of cigarettes that sat on the small table close by, opening it and pulling one out. Then, he picked up the lighter from the old ashtray on the table, lighting the cigarette and holding it up to his lips, ones that had just kissed you more times than he could count, as he stared out into the blinding, starstruck city of Los Angeles.
Taking a slow drag, he breathed the smoke into his lungs, letting the drug get to his head and relax his mind until all he could focus on were the bright lights that blurred through the tempered glass, blinding the city that had been his house for the past five years, but never a home.
You were walking on clouds.
There was a bounce in your steps as you walked into the concert grounds in the late afternoon, a simper dancing lightly on your lips as you glimpsed up at the vibrantly coloured sky of Phoenix, oranges and blues swirling together splendidly. The sun was lively, playing hide and seek amidst the clouds and occasionally revealing itself- the very clouds you felt as if you were skipping over.
It had been a while since you had felt this elated. The last time you could remember experiencing an emotion remotely similar to this was when you got elected the editor of your University’s newspaper, and that was almost two years ago, perhaps a little more.
Cotton-candy clouds beneath your feet, light as a feather without a worry in the world.
You had awoken later than usual that day, finding yourself alone on the tour bus since they had to start rehearsals for the show in the evening. After managing to throw together some breakfast, you worked on your article; a new and improved article that you were starting from scratch; before finally deciding to join them.
You walked, the stadium this time not being too far from where the buses were parked, coffee in hand and spirits climbing higher with every step you took.
To say that you were in a good mood would have been an understatement. You finally knew what to do with your article and it was going remarkably well for someone who had neglected it for so long. Of course, your delightful frame of mind might have had something to do with a certain someone as well.
As for the piece, it was an exposé alright, but not the one everyone would be expecting. It would wake the entire world up to what had actually happened, carefully crafted so that the rumours that had spread would be considered void once it was published.
The sheer thought of your work having such an impact brought another smile to your mouth and you indulged, a sense of pride rushing through you. Your dreams had always been much too big for your own good, but now that you had your sights firmly set on them, you allowed yourself to entertain them.
You decided to surprise Taeyong, slowing your pace as you pushed the door backstage, practically tiptoeing at this point. Something you had come to cherish was the way his eyes always lit up without fail when he saw you, even though it had been almost two months since your little relationship of sorts began. Growing up, you had always believed that excitement like that for someone was fleeting, it faded within a week or so, and you thought this because of how implausible the concept was to you.
Now that you were someone holding those very sentiments, you were glad that you had been wrong.
In retrospect, it was childish to want to surprise him when he knew he would see you every day, but with only a few shows left before they left for the rest of their world tour, you wanted to make the most of every moment you had with him. Then, you would have to wait for four months.
Judging from the currently empty stage, they were on a break from practising for the evening, making your plan all the easier to execute. Once you located the green rooms with little help, you made your way over and grabbed the knob, twisting it clockwise slowly so that the click would be barely audible and pushed slightly.
And right then was the third time you eavesdropped on a conversation, this time both parties were present, which stripped you from the trouble of having to imagine what the other was saying. You stopped pushing, leaving only a sliver of space between the door frame and the edge of the door itself as you heard Irene speak.
“I’m a little concerned about whatever you have going on with Y/n.”
Her voice was matter-of-fact, stating this plainly- harshly, even. You subconsciously straightened yourself up at the sound of your name, freezing your motions of opening the door to effectively listen in without being caught. The irony of it all was not lost on you, because here you were once again, doing something you probably weren’t supposed to.
“I thought you’d be overjoyed,” Taeyong replied flatly, disinterest in the conversation as clear as day. An exasperated sigh from her end followed, but before she could say anything, he continued, “Wasn’t all this your idea in the first place?”
Her idea? What?
The silence that followed was oddly suffocating, your brows knitted together in confusion, feeling like you had missed a substantial part of the exchange. Your grip on the doorknob tightened as if having control over that would make up for your lack of information right then.
“I told you to be on your best behaviour and get on her good side so we’d get an ass-kissing of an article out of it. This is a little extreme.”
“It’s none of your business.” His words held a warning, but they were so defensive; reeking of transgression that you had come to recognise so easily after carrying out your own guilt for so long.
She clicked her tongue, taking it in her stride and refusing to back down. “It is my goddamn business, Taeyong, everything about your life is my business. You know this.”
Your face suddenly felt tight, lips parting in stupefaction and an anxious lump making itself known in your throat that made it imperceptibly harder to breathe. For the first time in all your instances of listening in, you wanted to walk away lest you heard something- and yet, you didn’t know what you wanted to hide from.
But your feet were firmly planted to the ground, rooted in place as was your hand on the doorknob, blinking rapidly as you tried to process what was happening.
Intuition was meant to save you, so why was it mocking you?
“I have it under control, so just- just stay out of it, okay?” The agitation in his voice felt misplaced, a projection of what he couldn’t hold in.
“Will it fix everything?”
“Irene-”
“Goddamnit Taeyong, will we get an article that fixes everything?” The chill in the air bit into your skin, your own desperation almost matching the very same that was held in her voice, one that felt personal
“We will.”
Nothing could have ever prepared you for the sharp sting that tore through your chest at that moment, mercilessly destroying every shred of hope that you possessed. Scraps of the entire picture fell into place like a line of dominoes falling over, practically knocking you off your feet as all the air in your lungs escaped you
Her idea?
A good article?
Get on her good side?
You ripped your hand off the doorknob, recoiling so quickly that one would have assumed that the metal piece was made of fire, eyes widening in devastation as your heart sunk six feet under the ground. You staggered backwards, your feet carrying you as far away from the green room as they could before you could even comprehend the action, unaware of the happenings that took place as the world around you crumbled.
And along with it, your trust in Taeyong shattered just like your heart had, revealing him for what he truly was.
A dirty liar.
Escaping backstage, you stumbled out into the grounds, gasping for oxygen as if would help make sense of all that you had just heard and pull out whatever unsullied truth that could possibly lie between the muddled words. When you found nothing, the burn in your ribcage worsened in its intensity until you had to lean against the walls of the building for some- any- semblance of stability.
If you had been on cloud nine just a few minutes ago, you were now facing the torrential downpour.
You glanced up and peered at the Phoenix sky that had lost all its charm, never having looked as cold as it did right then.
~
Taeyong clicked his tongue, walking out of the green room and straightening out the sour expression that twisted his features, finding a certain comfort in the constant buzz backstage. To say that he despised when Irene brought up the topic of you and the article was an understatement, and she had started doing it more often, much to his despair.
He had started saying whatever the manager wanted to get her off his back, mindlessly nodding and agreeing with her questions and decisions to avoid any sort of unnecessary conflict. He knew she had noticed his complacent attitude, but it was all worth it if it meant he could spend the time he would usually use up arguing with Irene with you instead.
A small frown slipped onto his face at the realisation of you not being there, which was odd. You always tagged along on show days, so seeing you missing was odd.
A sliver of worry sequestered its way inside of him, but he shut it down just as quickly. There was always the possibility of you growing tired of having to sit through the same routine almost every week. Maybe you’d just show up for the show instead of the entire thing.
Having successfully convinced himself, he picked up his bass and walked back out to finish the sound check. He relaxed, any concern fading away the moment he found himself back on stage and singing into the mic with some of the people he loved the most in the world, even if it was just in an empty stadium.
It reappeared with a cruel vengeance when he saw that you hadn’t shown up for the show.
~
You couldn’t find it in yourself to plaster on a smile and walk back inside, surrendering to the pangs of hurt that seemed to come in waves, a viscous riptide that you had been caught in with no rescue team on the way. It pulled you further in until your feet could no longer reach the floor of the ocean and you were left to drown.
So you walk back to the bus, away from the growing discordance of fans arriving and back to the place you thought would alleviate the heaviness you felt. The journey back offered ruthless clarity, blaring in your face the moment you found yourself standing inside the bus when you realized that it all felt so uncharacteristically foreign.
Gone was the homely feeling that had grown over you every time you were inside of it, instead replaced with the same bleak frigidness that the sky had presented you with.
The very sentiment in your heart.
And so you walked back out, wishing you had a jacket to shield you from the constant chill in the air tonight, one that nipped harshly at your exposed skin, yet you couldn’t bear to go back inside to get one. You stood outside the bus, watching as the sun dipped below the skyline and the sky darkened even further until it was all one sorrowful colour- an unyielding dark blue.
The moon came into view, insulting you with the serene beauty it possessed no matter what the circumstances. On most nights, you would appreciate the way it was a constant, travelling back into the sky almost every night even though it knew the sun would eventually outshine it, breathing daylight onto the surface of the earth and rendering it forgotten. People regarded the moon as a thing of romance, the very notion made you scoff. The white light that it derived from the sun was nothing short of austere, desolate in its illumination. You shut your eyes, tipping your head upwards to bask in it, despising the way that you would never look at it the same way ever again because of this day, this evening and this night.
You stood out there for god knows how long, only realizing that hours had passed when you registered the dull ache on the soles of your feet and the clicking of cars opening and footsteps closening in.
Glancing to the source of the sound, your eyes searched for Taeyong out of habit and hardened when you finally spotted him walking over. It wasn’t as if you had forgotten that you would have to face him- you hadn’t at all- but it had been nice to pretend to not know for at least a little while.
He saw you standing there, looking at him with an expression that he couldn’t read no matter how much he tried to. Noticing that you were a little away from the buses, he muttered a mindless excuse to Yuta as he departed from the group to join you instead, questions rising to his mind with every step closer.
The way your heartbeat picked up the moment he was close enough for you to look at through your periphery was bitterly ironic, you had to bite down on your tongue to avoid letting out the humourless laugh that bubbled to your anxiously bitten lips. You hated the fragment of hope that naively slithered into you, how you were so aware of how foolish it was to even possess so little of it.
“Hey,” He muttered, faltering a little when you didn’t do so much as to look at him, opting to stare at your shoes instead of at him and the sound of his voice- the voice that always went straight to your stomach and scattered your thoughts without fail. When it happened once again, you panicked as he continued.
“You weren’t at the show today.”
And suddenly it made perfect sense why you still retained that hope for him.
“I wasn’t,” You confirmed his statement, hoping your voice hadn’t come out as choked up as it felt.
“Why?” The benignity in his question felt much too raw for you, your tongue stiffening into silence and laying heavily in your mouth. You heard the soft click of the tour bus door as it shut, leaving you alone with him under the twinkling stars and mercenary moon.
You didn’t know how to answer, letting out a shaky breath to brace yourself for whatever left your mouth in the next few minutes and to deal with the cold in your pathetic little way. “Does it matter?”
If he had thought something was wrong before, he definitely knew it now. There was a sense of detachment in the way you said it- not nonchalant per se, but more so like you were doing your best not to be concerned. He could see it in the slight quiver of your lower lip, the way you seemingly couldn’t bare to even steal a glance at him.
“Of course it matters, you matter Y/n.”
This. This was why you still hoped so futilely that everything you had heard was just a big misunderstanding, that you weren’t simply a means to an end. You had loved the way he made you feel; important and loved; how he spoke to you so affectionately and made you feel like you were the only woman he had ever wanted.
But hope and denial are two sides of the same coin, a double-edged sword of the sort, and the thing about double-edged swords is that it’s going to hurt no matter what way you twist it.
“If I matter so much, why did you lie to me?”
His breath caught in his throat and stayed there, forming a lump in his throat that seemed to restrict his breathing and ability to speak. “What?” He whispered out, strained.
You glimpsed at him subsequently, wondering just how long you had been living in blissful ignorance, how utterly gullible you had been when it came to Taeyong. How many times had you told him you believed him and trusted him without a doubt, handing over your fragile little heart to him to do as he pleased with it?
“I heard you talk to Irene,” You admitted hoarsely, your hand curling into a fist to keep yourself together the only way you could think of. “This entire thing- you and I; whatever the fuck we were- it’s a lie, isn’t it?” You abhorred the way your words came out brokenly as you looked into his eyes, attempting to peer inside his very soul to extract the answer from him, waiting for the resplendent rose of love that had bloomed in the cavity of your chest to make itself known.
The thing about roses was that although they protected themselves with their thorns, they never cared about those they hurt in the process.
“Y/n I-”
The rose wilted instead, the septic truth crudely cutting through your futile hope and forcing you to open your eyes to the reality of the world around you, never accounting for the state of pure agony it left you in. The regret that shone through those expressive eyes of his hurt you to your very core, confirming your worst suspicion.
“You’re a fucking liar.”
You could barely comprehend the words that left your lips, lips that had been kissed by the traitor that stood in front of you right then. “I trusted you Taeyong, and all you did was lie to me.”
“I didn’t want to,” He said weakly, not bothering to even attempt to deny the accusation you had thrown at him, his voice failing him every time he thought of doing so. He thought of every moment you had shared your own vulnerability with him when you so lovingly put out the truth for him about what you were doing and how he had so shamelessly continued to love you while betraying you at the same time. “You were never meant to hear that.”
It was almost satirical, so much so that you had to scoff humourlessly at that, hating the sudden ache that was present behind your eyes and the dampness that followed. “So you just planned to keep lying to me? Wow.” You laughed bitterly and looked back at the sky, willing your tears to disappear. You couldn’t bear the idea of crying in front of the man that hurt you so badly, he didn’t deserve another second of weakness from you. “Real nice.”
“No that wasn’t-” Frustration bled into his voice, guilt slamming into his chest so violently that it drowned out every other emotion inside of him, consuming him whole until all he could do was defeatedly stare at the mess he had made of everything; you and him.
“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”
Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
The world was cruel to drop such an unexpected heartbreak onto you when you had never been looking for love in the first place. You had been here to do a job that would push you ahead in the world of journalism. Unadulterated fury filled your veins because you were angry and so deeply hurt.
“What did you mean, then?”
He couldn’t say a single thing, now the one who shied away from meeting your tormented features. He hated the fact that it was him that had rendered you like this when it had never been his intention- truly it hadn’t- he would never hurt you on purpose. He had tried to keep it under wraps to avoid hurting you, had grown disdainful of talking about it with Irene for this very reason.
It was all his fault, intentional or not.
His silence killed you, clawing at your skin as if attempting to reach the broken pieces of your heart as tears cascaded down the flushed skin of your face despite your attempts to blink them away. You should have known that it was too perfect to be true, you should have known that something would go wrong sooner or later.
You just didn’t expect it to be sooner.
“You may have not slept your way to the top, but you sure as hell slept with me to fix your reputation.” Your voice cut through, shakier than you would have liked. You would never forget the sincerity in his voice when he told you it wasn’t true, but then again, wasn’t it the very thing he had done to save himself?
His selfish tendencies had once again caught up with him, ripping the rug from right beneath his feet before he even realised it was happening.
You had run yourself dry, left with nothing but the shards of your heart lying around you, mocking you for every opening up to someone you had known was unattainable. Picking up the pieces of whatever dignity you had left to call your own, you spoke quietly into the wind, just loud enough for him to hear.
“You want a good article? I’ll give you your damn article.”
If there had meant to be any malice in your voice, your weariness had squeezed it all out, leaving you with nothing but a sorrowful muttering of the words and somehow that hurt more than any yelling ever could. He flinched, shutting his eyes and going over every single thing he regretted about what he had done, wishing he could go back in time to undo it all and withdraw the grief he had bestowed upon you.
A few days ago, you had thought you would be the one to disrupt his world but stopped just in time for his sake and he had taken advantage of it all.
You had finally fallen in love and realized why you never let yourself do so before.
The air was far too cold for you to cope with anymore, a stark contrast to the hot tears that make their way down your face, blistering your skin. You brushed past his stoic figure and forced yourself back into the claustrophobic tour bus, ignoring the concerned looks thrown in your direction and for once in your life wishing that you could be well and truly invisible. The only comfort you received was the warmth of your makeshift bed as your pillow stained with the rest of your unspoken sorrow.
Like the unused, weak strings of his old guitar, the trust and love you had for Taeyong snapped, and the recoil had been the harshest thing you ever had to deal with.
People liked broken things.
Things, humans- it was all the same to them. Once the public had noticed his scar, they turned it into something to love, romanticising it and saying that it gave him character. He supposed that in a way, they were right, but he could never forget what it truly meant for him.
The stage lights were too bright, beating down on his face. They had been getting brighter with every show until he could barely even make out the crowd that so eagerly cheered for him and his boys. He adjusted the mic in front of him and donned a practised grin that was almost entirely believable as they got ready to perform their next song. A sad song.
Sadness and misery were as excellent muses as they were callous, any emotion could be if it was powerful enough to drown out everything else. Fans assumed that because of this very fact, producing any sort of art form using these emotions as your basis was easy and natural.
It wasn’t. It was the hardest thing in the world to put your hurt out there for the world to gawk at and judge like they had the right to do so.
And so he began to sing, but there was a certain weightage to his cadence that dragged the song down, making it truly poignant and inciting tears from the onlookers. Every syllable that left his coral lips was difficult to pronounce, but somehow, he managed to choke them out just in time and miraculously in tune with the music that had long faded into the background.
He did this again and again, over and over until he felt ashamed to do so but had to because of what was expected of him. Every time he looked in the mirror and put on that notorious smile of his, it seemed to glare back at him, taunting and jeering at him for everything he had done.
But he wore anyway, day in and day out for the cameras, lips pressed together so tight that no one even noticed when it continually faltered. Every show, he put his miserly heartbreak out on display, mingled with the guilt that had harboured roots in his fragmented soul, pushing themselves into the cracks and splitting it into even smaller pieces.
It didn’t matter. You weren’t around to see it.
You were something of a ghost, keeping to your upper level of the tour bus and avoiding the lower one with every fibre of your shattered being. The faraway look in your eyes seemed to be a new permanent aspect of your personality, along with your perpetual absence from every show and every aspect of the tour.
Instead, you sat alone with your laptop as your only companion, teeth ground together and eyebrows pulled taut as you stared at the blinding white document that lay before you. You would type out a few words and then proceed to press your index finger to the backspace button and erase it all, letter by stingy letter like they had never been put out into the world in the first place. And then you would be left with a blank canvas once again within those metal walls.
You would emerge from your sanctuary occasionally to perhaps grab some food or take a walk to clear your head, and then you would see him from across the room and forget why you were there. His eyes would meet yours and you would simply hold the gaze for a few seconds, empty and then full of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.
Then you would look away and life would drag you along like the moment had never existed. For the days that you were forced to be around everyone, you would smile and silently envy the way the band could do it so naturally without even having a second thought about if it looked fake.
Your smile was fake and Taeyong knew it from a single glance. He knew it from the way your eyes stayed dull as the sides of your mouth curved upwards painfully like it killed you to do so.
He knew he had lost you the moment he saw that hollow smile.
He couldn’t bear to speak to you and reap the results of what he had sown, and you couldn’t bear to listen, a spiteful sort of yin and yang situation that was slowly eating away at the both of you. It left him with no choice but to watch as you made yourself scarce, a phantom of his every misgiving that haunted him even when he shut his eyes. You were still there.
Two broken hearts brushing past each other every single day without truly ever making contact, going on with their days with so much to say and nothing at all.
It was a good thing people liked broken things.
But this? This was what showbiz was. It was messy and brutal and most of all, ugly. Under all the makeup touch-ups and glamorous lifestyle and glittering lights, at the end of the day you had to shed all of it off and see it for what it really was:
A godforsaken trap.
And so the last few shows dragged on, the last few days slipped by and suddenly they were walking backstage after their final show. Staff hollered jovially, drinks were being passed around in celebration, but he couldn’t get himself to relax, not when you were standing only a few feet away from him with that forlorn look in your eyes and a pitiful smile plastered on your face. Not when you were so close, not when all he could do was reach out and barely touch you before you disappeared again, slipping away from his grasp once again.
What a cruel time for him to realize he loved you.
Your two suitcases knocked into the back of your legs as you fished out your keys from the carry-on bag that was slung around your shoulders, slotting them into the lock of your apartment door. You twisted the metal things once, twice, until the door gave way and swung open, giving you a view of the place that you had so proudly once called your home.
The familiar homely scent had somewhat faded in the time you had been gone, now mingled with a musty, forgotten type of smell that quickly found settled deep into your skin, leaving you to straighten up your hunched posture and sigh heavily. Turning around, you gripped the handles of your bags, pulled them inside behind you and shut the door as quietly as you could to not wake up anybody. Your flight back to Los Angeles had been an early morning one, and so there you were at five in the morning, standing in your doorway like an idiot.
The last time you had been in LA had been barely a month ago, but this wasn’t where you had slept.
It had been in between the delicate sheets of Taeyong’s bed and arms that held you like you had been everything to him. You almost scoffed at the memory of your naivety, and at how easily you had been swayed by the star-studded lifestyle you had plunged yourself into.
Or perhaps it was just how easily you had fallen in love with someone so utterly elusive.
He was now probably halfway across the world in a private jet while you were right back where you had started. You had watched them leave, before turning around and walking away, away from the lights and tabloids and shy smiles in poorly lit-up tour buses that would forever remain a secret from the rest of the world.
And him.
You dropped your keys on the table as you dragged your suitcases with you, collapsing down on your worn-out couch and sinking into the cushions as the exhaustion of the entire ordeal hit you all at once. Your eyes fluttered shut as you took a minute to gather all your thoughts and pull yourself together.
His face flickered through your mind, causing your throat to close up in on itself as you snapped your eyes open, sucking in an arduous breath through your teeth.
“Y/n.”
You recalled how he called out your name just before they left for their jet, how he sounded almost desperate to get whatever he was about to say off his chest. Even with how tired you were, you recalled every second of the interaction perfectly, down to the way you turned to face him when he said your name so perfectly.
He stopped in his tracks as the others walked a little away from him, nearly wincing at the way your eyes wouldn’t meet his and the hesitancy you displayed. It was too late for you and him, it was too little too late to fix what he had done.
“I lied about us to them,” He never once looked away from you even if you couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t bear to look away if this was going to be the last time he ever saw you.
“But nothing about us was ever a lie.”
His words haunted you with every step further you took from them, on the plane as you tried to forget it and as you picked up your luggage and called a cab. As you climbed the tiresome stairs of your apartment complex and even now as you sat there, you were pathetically thinking about it even though you had tried everything you could to forget.
But Lee Taeyong wasn’t the type of person you could forget easily, not when you could still imagine how it felt when he touched you and the weight of his gaze. The earnest remorse that laced his voice.
You punched in the code to your suitcase lock, unzipped it and pulled your laptop out. The cool metal rested upon your jean-clad legs, the blue light causing you to frown as you opened up your document and began to write, but not out of any sort of inspiration. You wrote out of the anger that had settled deep within your soul and motivated you.
Anger at his audacity to think that it would be alright to make you fall in love with him just to avoid the possibility of his notoriety falling apart. You typed out everything you possibly could about what he had done and how it was all true, every single accusation you could throw at his face and how he truly did sleep his way to the top because for fucks sake, he certainly did it with you, didn’t he?
Then you stopped amidst your hateful frenzy, realising that there was no way you could do that to him. If you did, you were no better than that bastard Jungwoo. You stared at what you had written, reading it twice, three times and swallowing the telltale lump that had formed in your throat. Selecting it all, you glimpsed at the blue highlight and deleted it with a single click because you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
But you were so, so unbelievably angry.
Unconsolable rage consumed every fibre of your being, leaving you with clenched fists and gritted teeth until you accepted what it really was: grief. A broken sob escaped your chapped lips, the wretched sound breaking the silence that had been weighing you down for the past half hour you sat there in your apartment.
You were grieving a love that you still felt so strongly but was never yours to claim in the first place.
And you cried for the first time since the day you confronted him, at last comprehending that your anger was simply the sheer heartbreak you felt in its rawest form, the very proof that you had loved. You broke down in the dead of the night, feeling so implausibly alone in the midst of everything that had happened these past few months.
Before you had even known it, everything you had ever wanted had slipped right through your grasp, leaving you to grieve its loss all by yourself. You weren’t sure when Taeyong had become your every dream rolled into one magnificent wish, but it burned brighter than any wish you had ever had, which was perhaps why it hurt so bad.
How had the ultimate opportunity turned into something that shattered your very soul? Life had a merciless sense of humour because even though you had made the spiteful promise of writing an article that would destroy him, you couldn’t go through with it, because when you loved someone, you could never intentionally hurt them.
You exhaled shakily, staring at the empty document through the heavy thumping of your ruptured heart in your ears and the blur of your tears, blinking them out of your eyes. Then, in the dead silence of the early morning, as the sleeping world stirred to life and began with their monotonous days, you began to write.
And what was it that you wrote?
~
“What the hell is this?”
You calmly held Johnny’s gaze, a mixture of frantic and fury burning in his eyes as he glared at you. The velveteen cushioning of the seat under you was all too familiar, as were the wooden floors beneath the heels of your shoes, the first time you had stepped into The Link’s building in a long time.
“The article you assigned me,” You responded plainly, spurring any sort of emotion that threatened to make a show on your face. He shut his eyes and visibly sucked in a laboured breath, tapping his fingers impatiently on his desk.
“You’ve made some…..serious claims here,” He started to reason with you, and you could already see where this little colloquy was going to go. Gripping your phone, you took a careful note of the restraint that was displayed in his voice, but refused to back down from your own goal. “Ones that don’t fall under our initial arrangement.”
There were definitely some liberties you had taken with your article, but none of them were things of fallacy. You were well aware that it was the reason the editor was so skittish, although he tried to hide it to the best of his abilities from the way he pulled at his tie to loosen it around his collar ever so slightly and cleared his throat. It was a thing of amusement, to watch him try and figure out how to convey what he wanted to you without giving away what he had done.
You had been through too much to be thwarted by someone who was also in the wrong in the entire situation. You were done being a pawn in their little game.
“There wasn’t any arrangement, you said I had to write an article and I did just that.”
“Y/n.” He said your name defeatedly, “where did you get this information from? It’s so out of the blue.”
And with that, you pressed play on the recording of the call you had with Jungwoo a few months ago, watching carefully as Johnny’s expression shifted from weariness to shock as it played out. When your voice came through, telling Jungwoo you had overheard Renjun speak to the editor, all colour drained from his face.
Pausing the recording, you leaned forward in your seat, a corporate smile playing upon your lips in triumph.
“That’s how I know my claims are true because I have confirmation from one of the people involved in the audio proof. The only dirt around Taeyong’s name is the dirt you planted there.” You said this firmly, trying to ignore the way his name felt heavy on your tongue.
Johnny clenched his jaw. “Look-”
“Publish my article,” You interrupted, more tranquil than you thought you would be when it came to this. There wasn’t a bone in your body that was scared when you put your terms out for him. “Or I will publish it myself and put Junwoo’s and your name on it. If you post it, I will let your less-than-ethical arrangement slide with only Renjun having to face the consequences.”
He clicked his tongue, knowing that he had no choice but to go through with your requests and although he didn’t particularly like it, he couldn’t help but admire the way you went about it. You had gone over and beyond with your journalistic work, cracking the truth behind it all and making sure the odds were in your favour.
You had proven yourself to be a kick-ass journalist, no doubt one of the best of your generation. A grin made a show on his features, respecting you a lot more now that he knew what you were capable of.
“Consider it done.”
You returned his smile with a genuine one of your own this time around and warned faintly, “No major edits.”
He shut his laptop and nodded. “Not one.” Satisfied with his answer and the knowledge of him being far too smart to double-cross you when you had such damning leverage, you stood to your feet and turned to leave his office when he called out.
“And Y/n? Excellent job.”
As you stepped out into the busy corridors of The Link’s building, you felt a sense of warm pride wash over you at what you had managed to accomplish. You let yourself breathe in the cool air-conditioned air that held the slightest tone of coffee in it and held your phone up, knowing that you had one last thing to do, but it was the most important of them all.
You selected the audio recording until the option to share it popped up, clicking on it and swiftly forwarding the call to a certain manager. Then, you slipped the device into the pockets of your coat and walked away, leaving every cumbersome worry that you could behind.
THE TRUE ‘CHERRY ON TOP’.
These past few months, I have had the opportunity to accompany the band Cherry Bomb on the American leg of their ongoing world tour, as I’m sure most of you have been keeping up with.
From the very start, I was thrust into a world far too glamorous for me to ever keep up with, from the shows to the red carpet events and parties. I had never been the type of journalist that involved myself with the happenings of their research, but this was my exception. It was nearly impossibly to not get caught up with it all, especially when everyone around me was so inviting.
People talk about some celebrities being genuine and the nicest people they could ever meet and Cherry Bomb fit this description to the T. All of them are so wonderfully unique and lovely to converse with, dare I say, befriend, that it was only a matter of time before I was comfortable around them. Never once did they ever make me feel like an outsider even though I was very much exactly that.
These men live and breathe their music and are the most passionate people I will ever meet.
I even had the pleasure of viewing one of their concerts and when I saw them up there on that stage, I could understand why they are so successful. Seeing Nakamoto Yuta give it his all behind those drums of his, Lee Mark and Lee Jeno complimenting each other with their parts, Kim Doyoung and his genius playing the keyboard, and finally, Lee Taeyong standing up there with his bass guitar and leading it all- it was a truly magical experience.
Initially, when I first started my research and drafting of this piece, I had convinced myself that I would be writing a little bit on every member, but now that the experience is over, I have decided to take a different route, one that tied into all that I have mentioned above.
It is a known fact that there is a rumour going around about the reason why the band is so popular, one that states that their success is due to the frontman, Lee Taeyong, sleeping his way to the top.
I am writing this article to very firmly counter that statement with the truth because the rumour is crude and very false.
Their crushing success is to only be credited to themselves because they have worked tirelessly for it. I have received a first-hand look at the amount of effort they put into everything they do, and they are the most hard-working people I know. It is not because of Taeyong’s sleeping habits in the slightest.
After some more research, it had come to my attention that these rumours had started because of a single, unassuming catalyst: their very own publicist, Huang Renjun.
The aforementioned publicist was the one to plant the seed of all the rumours, that catalyst if you will, quietly hiding under anonymity to avoid being caught out for his actions. The article that was written about the entire (fake) ordeal was written by a journalist working for the very paper I write for, as I have to admit with much regret.
I am not aware of his motives as to why he decided to go so far as to lie about the very artists he was supposed to protect, but when I say that this is the truth, it is. My aim with this piece is to tell the truth, and the only lie presented within these words is the telling of the one that the publicist told.
The ‘Cherry On Top’ tour is no doubt one of the best they have ever played, each show exceeding the last, and a true testimony to the great musicians they are. Every one of them has given their all and sacrificed a lot to be out there doing what they love, even if it feels like they have been handed their success, they most certainly have not been.
And Lee Taeyong certainly did not sleep his way to the top.
- Y/n L/n, The Link.
Afterparties had been a thing of enjoyment at one point in Taeyong’s life and although that time had not been too long ago at all, it certainly felt like it. He recollected how easy it used to be for him to indulge in such meaningless practices and when he used to think that getting blackout drunk was good fun.
It had been two months.
The concert in Paris was an astounding success and he had only been just a little tipsy while performing. Alcohol and cigarettes had turned into something of a coping mechanism for him, but now as he stood amidst other celebrities he didn’t know and different socialites that somehow managed to get into the party in a bar in The Marais, he felt much too sober. The glass in his hand felt heavy as he gripped it, the edges lightly digging into his skin.
He had never realized how jarring his lifestyle was until this moment, detesting the way it was so superficial. The glitz, the lights, the girls- all the appeal that they once possessed had long faded into the background, leaving him to grit his teeth and pretend to be enjoying himself as he walked several red carpets that he very frankly, did not give a fuck about. For the first time, he felt like a fraud, undeserving of the spotlight that had been bestowed upon him so long ago, attention that he would have to take to his grave.
The change in his demeanour had been picked up by his bandmates, but they didn’t say anything. He suspected that they had an inkling of what had happened that night between you and him, but had decided to give him space.
Space had led to him making several mistakes if the empty glass bottles and occasional stranger in his hotel bed said anything.
But there was only so much one person could handle.
He turned around, pushing through the turbulent crowd until he found himself standing outside the bar, calling one of their cars to take him back to the hotel early, back to the solitude of his temporary room. He knew that his absence would be noted, perhaps even given to the press as a tip-off, but he could care less about it.
Taeyong couldn’t stand the thought of staying there and plastering on his poker face for even a second longer. He had ignored everyone anyway, including the lineup of ruffled girls who had evidently been very upset over not managing to catch his fancy for the night. He knew there would be whispers about his reluctance, the faltering happy expression that he had tried so hard to keep plastered on his lips.
But how could he even pretend to be happy when in every single person, he could see you?
He slipped into the car, leaning back in the seat as he instructed the driver of his destination, glancing out of the windows to view the smoky nightlife of Paris at such a late hour. Everything was much darker than one would imagine, giving the city of love a much more desolate feeling, lonely even. The streetlights flickered uncertainly, casting their yellow light onto the pavements. Taeyong nearly wanted to get out of the car and walk down those pathways, to be able to pretend that there weren’t going to be people trailing him with their flashy cameras for just a few minutes of seclusion that the night provided so mercifully.
He didn’t though, instead waiting until the driver parked the car and politely told him that they had reached. He dragged himself back up to his room until he was met with the room he shared with no one and a minibar that was conveniently right next to his bed.
Love was the type of emotion that was tempestuous and violent, but it never acted alone. For most, it was with adoration and fulfilment, but for him, it was tainted with the guilt he so desperately tried to escape with every emptied glass bottle that sat in the trash. It was at times like these when you would pop into his mind without fail and he was once again reminded of the fact that you weren’t by his side.
And he had no one to blame for that but himself.
But god, he missed you.
He missed your smile and the way you’d try to control your excitement, the look in your eyes when you were passionate about something that contrasted the shyness that would enter your voice, and the way your hands would oh so gently cup his face. He missed the infectious tinkling of your laughter and the dedication you possessed when it came to your job and just you.
He hated what he had become and most of all hated the thought of being someone you couldn’t love or want. The prospect of you never needing him again even though he knew he needed you more than anything.
The brandy in his glass burned his throat as he allowed it to numb every splinter of penitence that swirled in the pits of his stomach, eyes closed as he tried to forget you.
An impossible feat.
A sharp, almost frantic knock on the door of his room snapped him out of his reverie. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he could only frown when he registered the time. 5:00 am. Who could it have been at such an early hour?
He contemplated pretending to be asleep so that the person would hopefully move on, but when another rap on the door came not even a minute later, he relented and walked over to open it. Once he swung it open, he was met with Irene standing there, phone in hand as her ever-vigilant eyes fell upon his slightly dishevelled figure and grew disapproving for a split second. He had forgotten that she tended to be an early riser no matter how late her evenings got.
To his surprise, beginning to speak before he could even attempt to comprehend what was happening. “You actually did it.”
“I- what?”
“The rumours- they’ve dissipated. They hold no merit anymore because you got that article, you son of a bitch.” Her eyes gleamed with pride as she spoke, thrusting her phone in his face resolutely. “It got released yesterday, and I would have seen it sooner but Renjun isn’t around anymore.” She said the publicist's name with a substantial amount of scorn, shaking her hand about in his face so that he would take the phone from her.
Her mention of the article had his heart in his mouth as dumbfoundedness bled into his fatigued features. “Wait, what do you mean Renjun isn’t here?”
“He’s fired,” She said flatly. “Because he’s a rat.”
“I still don’t follow.” He was too tired for her cryptic messages and in no mood to even think about entertaining them. She sighed.
“Renjun was the one who started the rumours, and I would have never known if Y/n had not sent me proof of it and written that article. I would have seen her message sooner but you know how it is with my inbox, always full.” The moment your name left her mouth, Taeyong couldn’t truly focus on the rest of what she was saying, nodding along mindlessly where he thought was the right point. More than anything, he wanted to ask Irene about you, what you had said and maybe, just maybe, if you had asked about him.
“Somehow she found out that it was Renjun who decided to spew bullshit about you,” she gritted out, “but it’s all dealt with, and his entire career in the industry is over. You should read the article by the way, after all, you’re responsible for it. I sent you a link to it.”
She plucked her phone out of his hands and walked away, leaving him to hurriedly fumble with his own. He shut the door and clicked on the link Irene sent him, more so to have even a little part of you for a few minutes than you truly find out what had taken place, eyes scanning over every word you had written until he reached the very end.
And it was then that carefully curated expression of his finally crumbled, and for the first time in a long time, Taeyong let himself cry.
NOVEMBER; ALBUM OF THE YEAR GRAMMY NOMINATIONS:
— Solo; Kim Jennie
— Maniac; Haechan
— Pop!; Nayeon
— Ruby; Lee Jihoon
— Cherry On Top; Cherry Bomb
Greetings Miss L/n,
Your recent article about Cherry Bomb has been making waves in the journalism world, and we at the NYT have taken notice.
This email is written in the hopes that you would consider sitting for an interview for our newspaper. After reviewing your past work, we have concluded that we would love to have a journalist like you on board. Your writing style is concise and conveys what it needs to, a quality we appreciate.
It is evident that you strive to put your best foot forward and are not afraid to take risks, something that is considered very rare. For these reasons, we would love to offer you this opportunity. Salary and such will be discussed in person, which is how we would like to hold this interview.
We look forward to receiving a positive response.
Tiffany Young.
Head of HR- New York Times.
It was human tendency to gravitate toward the very things that destroyed them. You supposed that very inclination was the reason you were there on your couch once again, the stem of a half-full wine glass resting between your index and middle finger, the cool mouth of it pressed to your tinted lips. The redness from the drink had stained them, your eyes trained on the television screen in front of you.
There wasn’t a point for you to be viewing the Grammys, but something had pushed you to do so and so there you were as the entire arena where the award show was held was shown. The cool February air jabbed unsolicitedly at the skin of your arms even with your heater on, and you let the sweet fermented drink kiss your throat soothingly to combat the chill.
You knew that they were going to be there.
You could hardly believe that it had been five months since you had seen them and so perhaps this was you satiating the small part of you that missed them.
As you watched the opening performance, you realized that you hadn’t the slightest interest in anything else but the singular award that they had been nominated for. So if that was the case, why were you subjecting yourself to sit through the entire ordeal? You leaned over to pick the television remote up to switch it off and release yourself from this mundane sort of self-affliction.
The camera panned over the five men you were there for a brief moment and instantly you stopped, settling back into your seat. Of course, they would show them within the first few minutes of the show, they had the entire world at their heels.
The entire world waiting in anticipation for the results of the nominations just like you.
The first hour of the show past painfully slowly and yet, you didn’t move, waiting patiently for it to happen. It felt odd, the fact that it was taking place right there in LA and you had to watch through a screen anyway. The fact that they were so close to you, back home and within your reach, felt a little unreal to you.
Kim Mingyu himself walked across the stage, grinning at the road of clapping that followed his every step. You allowed a small simper to make a show at his appearance, recalling the night of the party you had attended with the boys and how it had ended with you and Taeyong out on one of the numerous balconies of his mansion.
“Thank you, thank you!” He waved his hand politely to calm the audience. “I am beyond honoured to be here presenting this award tonight! Now, I’m aware all of you are here for me,” he paused as a light pattering of laughter made its way around the hall, “but I do have a job to do, so without further ado, here are your nominees for this year's Album of the Year!”
He listed out the five nominees, the camera focusing on each of them as he said their names for a few seconds. When it came to Cherry Bomb, you mentally chastised yourself for how quickly your eyes sought out a politely smiling Taeyong sitting with the rest of his mates. This wasn’t their first time attending, they had won the award twice before, the first time for being the best new artist when they had just started, and the second was for this very award.
Needless to say, there was a lot of pressure on them.
You could see glimpses of their nerves shine through their smiles and the way they held their drinks. Then, it went to Nayeon, who had already won one Grammy that evening and had it standing proud on her table, evidently calm because of its presence.
Mingyu smiled right when the cameras returned to him, showing off his perfect, pearly white teeth. He lifted the golden envelope in his hands, “And your winner for the Album of the Year for this year's Grammys is….”
Everyone held their breath, including the nominees themselves. Little shots of them popped up side by side on your television, showing you the way Yuta visibly stiffened in anticipation and how Taeyongs fingers curled around the flute of his glass, eyes trained on the stage and at the announcer, his friend.
Mingyu flipped the top of the envelope open and pulled out the card that held the winner in one swift motion, holding it a little away from him before his eyes lit up. He then bent down a little so that his mouth was once again in line with the microphone, letting the audience stew in their anxiety for just a second longer.
“CHERRY BOMB!”
Cheers erupted as the screen enlargened on them as their smiles grew wide and genuine, a sharp exhale leaving your wine-stained lips. Something like a weight had been lifted off your tired shoulders and you sat up straight, your lips curling up in a relieved and glad smile for them. For the strangers you had grown so close to in so little time.
As for Taeyong, he had barely registered it when he heard the name of the band he had formed when he was just a teenager. He had to stop himself from flinching at the thunderous clapping, eyes blown wide when he finally realized that they had done it. They had won.
Doyoung leaned over to hug Jeno, and then Taeyong as they got to their feet, bashfully smiling in elation at achieving their ultimate goal of the previous year. He took a cautionary sip of the bubbly champagne that sat inside the flute he held and placed it down, straightening out his suit as he led the walk to and up the small stage.
Mingyu handed him the golden gramophone statue, whispering congratulations away from the mic for only them to hear and exchanging hugs, before walking off stage. He turned to face the audience with his best friends right at his side and thousands- millions even- of people clapping for them.
“Wow this…” he trailed off, glancing down at the award in his hands with a nervous simper playing on his face. “Firstly we’d like to thank the recording academy and god- the list is far too long, but wow, thank you to our incredible fans and our manager Irene Bae who always knows what to do. Qian Kun our producer, Alexandra, James and the rest of our amazing team.” He spouted every name he could remember, doing his best to sound grateful because he truly was.
There was just one thing.
“And thank you to one person out there who knows who she is,” He gripped the award better, Adam’s apple bobbing slightly in his throat as his tone quieter, staring right into the camera. “I think about you every day.”
You.
The need to breathe deeply arose all of a sudden, leaving you to suck in a large gulp of air while you wondered if the wine had finally gone to your head. And you knew as he held the award up once again with a gratified expression on his face and shook it slightly, and as he handed it to his members, that he was talking about you.
And he had won, all of them had. Through every hardship and roadblock, they managed to get to the other side in triumph.
The pride that swelled in your chest for him along with the warm pressure behind your eyes told you all you needed to know. As the first cup of wine turned into your third, you were drowning in the realization that you still loved him vicariously with every broken piece of your heart that still belonged to him.
History liked repeating itself.
Once again you stood in your living room with suitcases- suitcase, singular this time around. It was a small one with just enough items to last you an entire week in New York City. There was plenty of time before you had to leave for your flight, one that you had booked well in advance and had given yourself enough time in the city to not throw yourself straight into the interview.
You could have gone three days later and you would have been fine on time, and yet there you were, standing by your couch while clutching the handle of your bag. Your flight was at seven the next morning and it was ten post meridian right now, so to say you were early was an understatement. In truth, you had no idea why you were so cautious about everything you were doing, and neither did you understand why you felt like you had to leave right at this very moment.
But not to the airport. The airport was the last place you were thinking of then. If you left for the airport, you would have been leaving behind unfinished business in your wake.
There was so much to consider if you left, if you did get the job that you had been dreaming of for so long. Bank work, resigning from The Link, ending your apartment lease- and the most important of them all, if you could live with leaving without seeing him again.
“I lied about us to them.”
Regret was a funny thing, it nipped and poked at your insides until you had no choice but to acknowledge its infuriating presence. It made you think things you did not want to, forcing them to the front of your idle mind until you gave up trying to fight.
“But nothing about us was ever a lie.”
His last words to you echoed through the chambers of your mind, eliciting a sigh. You still hadn’t the slightest idea what he had meant by that, or the possible implications it retained. It gave rise to questions that would stay in the forefront of your thoughts without any answers.
And before you knew it, you let go of the suitcase handle and grabbed your keys, slipping out of your apartment and calling a cab. Within minutes you were sitting inside said cab, telling the driver Taeyong’s address before you could talk yourself out of it. It was so impulsive, so completely unlike you that you were a tad concerned, but you wanted answers. The memory of where he lived in the city was burned into your memory, the information finally proving to be useful.
For all you knew, you could have made the right decision that day to walk away and this would all be for nought.
But it could have also been your biggest mistake.
The elevator ride up to his penthouse was when your intrusive thoughts returned with full force. You had miraculously managed to keep them at bay in the cab, but now as you waited in that metallic little box, you couldn’t help but try and dissect why you were here. You could have perhaps slept for a little before your flight, or checked if you had everything you needed for the nth time.
Instead, you were there, walking out into the hallway of the building he stayed at that was almost haunted with the ghosts of your past selves rushing through it the morning after that night, hand in hand with soft giggles and secretive smiles being passed around. A self-inflicted déjà vu, or perhaps not, because history truly did love to repeat itself, cyclical in nature as it went through the motions of a story it already knew so well.
Now all that stood between him and you was a measly wooden door.
What if he wasn’t at home? What if he wasn’t staying there for the night and instead with the boys? What if he wasn’t even in Los Angeles, but rather somewhere else and you had wasted all this time?
You knocked. Then you took a step back and waited.
When you heard the slightest padding of footsteps and the rattle of the door, you knew that there was no turning back. When the door opened, the warmth of his apartment hit you all at once, leaving you to unclench your anxious fists and stare at the person that stood at the doorframe.
“Y/n?”
You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through your body when he said your name ever so softly, his eyes wide but softened at the sight of you as if he could hardly believe you were real. Locking eyes with him, you once again felt the effects of having his gaze upon you, the intenseness of it trained on just you. You didn’t think you would ever understand how he managed to have such an effect on you.
“Can I come in?” Your question came out timidly as you averted your gaze, knowing that if you kept it locked with his you would never be able to finish what you had started. You didn’t see him nod, but felt him move aside and push the door further open for you. When you were inside, he shut the door and turned to you, unsure of what to say.
Nothing had changed inside his place, nor had much about him other than appearances. His hair was darker now, the hint of red you had grown used to missing and replaced with a solid brown that matched the swirl in his eyes.
“You’re here,” Taeyong mumbled almost inaudibly. “Why are you here?”
He hadn’t thought he would ever see you in person ever again, least of all standing in front of him in his house- what had been a home for a few minutes that night- in all your stifled glory.
You looked to the side and out the expansive windows that stretched out from the ceiling to the floors, out at the twinkling city. The last time you had been here, the curtains in the living room had been drawn closed, giving you privacy from the rest of the world's prying eyes.
“I don’t know.” But you did know, what you needed from him was so painfully obvious that you couldn’t even bring yourself to say it. “This was a mistake.”
He studied you, from the ever so slight tremble of your lower lip to your unfocused eyes that wouldn’t look at him. “No, it wasn’t.”
The way he could read you so easily was ridiculous to you, causing you to scoff under your breath as a frustrated smile made its way onto your face.
“I don’t understand you.” And you truly couldn’t because people like him were so evasive and fleeting, always just a little too far out of your reach. He paused, eyes flitting all over your expression as if trying to assess what you meant by that, what you wanted- no, needed- from him. “You say you want me in your life and then proceed to lie about us to everyone else already in it. But you tell me nothing about us was a lie.” You sucked in a shaky breath, going over everything that had happened between the two of you.
“Y/n-”
But now that you had started letting it all out, there was no stopping you.
“And I don’t know what to believe, because I placed all my trust in you and you just- you broke it like it meant nothing.” His heart broke when your voice did, putting himself in your shoes. How confused and hurt you must have been, to think you were nothing but an easy way out of a tricky situation.
“No,” he whispered, contrite, “it meant everything to me.”
You stayed silent, letting the silence blanket the both of you. The faint ticking of the second hand on a clock somewhere in the room made up for it.
“Have you made me a liar, Taeyong?”
The earnestness that laced your voice along with the way you finally, finally looked at him had him instinctively reach out to touch you and hold you and wipe away the pain that he had inflicted on you, but he stopped himself just in time, letting his arm fall limply to his side in vanquish.
“God, no,” He almost exclaimed, shouted even, wanting to do anything he could think of to prove himself to you, to get through to you. “I told you the truth that night, I never lied to you about wanting you Y/n, I never fucking lied about that.”
You remembered that night all too well and shut your eyes once again to counter the telltale warmth of your eyes.
“Even when it all started? When you first kissed me?”
“Even then.” The way he stated it with so much fervour made your thinking come to a halt.
“Then tell me the truth,” you said ultimately, “the full truth.”
That one request was all he needed to divulge everything that had happened, the way the rumours about him were getting to a bad point, how worried Irene was about it and her warning to them. How everyone assumed that everything he was doing with you was for their benefit and nothing else, and how he stupidly- utterly senselessly- went along with it to make things easier. The way that he completely forgot about him having to win you over for a purpose because he genuinely wanted you for just you, and how he regretted every sore decision he made.
And you listened as every question of yours got its answer and locked itself away from your memory, the sincerity in his voice finding you and holding your hands, squeezing them until you could let them go. Half of you wanted to hate him more than anything, to scream and cry and make him hurt the way he hurt you.
But the thing was, you already knew he was hurting. And the other half of you wanted it to stop because loving someone meant shielding them from any sort of hurt.
And you loved him more than you had ever loved anyone or anything.
“Telling them I was with you for a good article was a lie. It was still a lie even if I didn’t mean it.” There was Lee Taeyong, seemingly on top of the world with everyone at his feet, confessing to you what no one else knew. For your eyes only.
“And I’m so sorry for it.”
When you opened your eyes, he was looking at you, his round eyes filled with so much sorrow, so much desperate hope that you would believe him as you did so trustingly all those months ago. All that vulnerability out in the open again for you to peer at and judge, but did you even have the right?
“You really hurt me, you know,” You mumbled slowly, cautionary, wanting him to hear it from you at least once. You needed to say it to him, to get it off your chest.
A single tear trickled down your face, and the moment it did, Taeyong stepped closer, cradling your face between his hands as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I know,” he breathed out, dragging his thumb gently against your cheek and wiping the tear away. “I hate myself for doing that to you, I regret it more than anything. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Your fingers found the cloth of the shirt he wore, clutching onto it and leaning into his touch, finding solace in the gentle touch of his hands against your face as he whispered apologies to you, chipping away bit by bit at your resolve.
When the curtains falls, the lights dimmed and stage effects ceased to exist, beneath the glitz and the seemingly perfect lives of celebrities, there were humans. Humans who made mistakes and fucked up sometimes, humans who were judged for those very mistakes even though thousands of people all over the world did the very same things. Now, as Taeyong stood there and held you like he couldn’t bear to ever let you go, and barred his soul for you with every ‘I’m sorry’ that fell from his lips in utmost sincerity, he was the most human you had ever seen him.
And who were you to judge someone just like you? So painfully human and flawed, willing to make up for it?
“You hurt me and I love you anyway. Does that make me an idiot?” You had already forgiven him, speaking against the ghost of his lips, one hand coming up to clutch at his wrist to ground yourself at the moment.
“Fuck, no,” he tilted your head upwards so you were looking right into his eyes as he spoke, leaving you to believe every word he said. “You’re not the idiot, you never were. I was the idiot, baby, I fucked it all up.” That brown of his tickled your forehead and every sense of yours was oblivious to everything but the man in front of you.
“You did,” you nodded faintly, letting out the softest exhale as you blinked the tears out of your eyes, but never dropped them from his. “Guess you’ll have to make it up to me.”
Almost immediately, his lips found yours, kissing you with such reckless abandon that you almost lost your balance and would have fallen if you hadn’t been holding into his hand. One of his arms fell to your torso and looped around it, pulling you closer until it was impossible to do so anymore, securing you in place. Your eyelids fluttered shut and you let every single one of your fears and thoughts melt away like it usually did when you were around him because you knew that this, right there, was exactly where you were supposed to be.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to.” And he meant it with every fibre of his being, willing to do anything and everything for you.
“I believe you.”
It didn’t matter how many people made up fake news about him or never believed anything he said because you did.
“Then will you stay in my life? By my side again?” He asked you this softly, not wanting to push you into anything. “And- fuck, I can’t promise it’ll be easy, because there will be people prying into your life when they find out about us if there’s going to be an us, and unwanted attention–”
“More running from paparazzi?” You offered with the slightest twitch of your lips.
“Definitely more of that.” He chuckled, tenderly pushing some of your hair out of your face so none of it obscured his view of you, “But there’s no one else I’d rather run from them with.” His eyes searched yours for any semblance of an answer and you dipped your head a little in confirmation.
“I’d run with you for the rest of my life too, Taeyong, and I forgive you,” you choked out with a teary laugh, your previous emotions crashing down on you all at once, melting into a concoction that was completely overridden by your feelings for him. You would face the Huang Renjun’s and Kim Jungwoo’s of the world head-on, hand in hand with the man you loved, inevitably coming out triumphant.
Because you believed him. You really, truly believed him.
“Yeah?” He asked, in disbelief almost, engulfing you entirely in his embrace when you nodded again, whispering the very same word just loud enough for him to hear but soft enough to be mistaken for an echo. He pressed kisses into your hair and you knew that you had made the best decision you could have by coming here, letting yourself relax in his hold.
“For the record, I love you too,” And you didn’t think you had ever heard something so beautiful as him saying those three fated words back to you. After a beat, he continued in teasing, “Isn’t that what you journalists say? For the record?”
You laughed, wiping any stray tears, now of happiness, that had escaped your eyes in the process. “No, you idiot, it’s ‘on the record’ for things that they want to be counted, and ‘off the record’ for things that they don’t want in the report.” His attempt at using journalist lingo was endearing to you, as was the fond grin that rested upon his lips as you corrected him.
“On the record then,” Taeyong said matter-of-factly, “I love you, Y/n L/n.”
You leaned upwards, pressing your lips to his lightly, before pulling back with wide eyes. “Oh god, I have to go!”
“What?!”
“I have a flight in the morning- to New York,” You had momentarily forgotten about that minor fact, attempting to detach yourself from him, a futile gesture he promptly refuted by holding you even tighter.
“New York? Why?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you preemptively smiled in pride.
“An interview for the New York Times.” You patted his arm around you. “I’m flying in early tomorrow morning, my interview is on Monday.”
He frowned, “That’s a week from now. Cancel the flight and stay with me for a bit before you leave me pining after you.”
You knew very well that you had been overthinking it when it came to booking your flight so early and felt flushed at his words. “But-”
“Stay. Please.”
And with that he had you.
“Okay,” you nodded without giving it much thought, knowing where you had to be most at that very point in time. “I’ll leave later.”
Of course, there would be tribulations, you expected no shortage of them, but you knew that as long as you had him by your side to push through the fog and uncertainty, you would be okay. You were up for all of it, from the sleepless nights tainted with the burning taste of whiskey to the mesmerising laughter-filled ones that would no doubt haunt the halls of his apartment. And perhaps now the streets of New York when you would soon step into them.
“I love you.”
Looking up at him now with a soft smile that formed as you said the words, you knew that he had once again given you another dream by giving himself. You brought your hands up to his face and cupped it, memorizing every detail of your most brilliant dream yet so you would never forget it in this lifetime, or any life after this one. As you stood there, fitting so perfectly in his arms, he felt at home at long last, finding joy in the fact that it was because of you and how it would always stay a home with you there.
“On the record.”
fin.
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