Archive of Our Own

The must rule to survive a cutthroat music industry: get a good lawyer. You heard it first from the pinnacle of a young exploitee. Read your contract, own your masters, take down the walls. Art, even if it’s borne from your very own, can fall in the hands of a greedy beer-belly-ed man if you’re not careful. They’ll find every way to exploit your music even more, more than you imagined. It’s only a matter of time for your own craft to morph into an unfamiliar fig. From then, it becomes unattainable as it expires.

And like a broken record, Huening Kai will dig his heels to the ground as he disputes all contrarians to his adamance of owning his own music. You heard it here first, from the pinnacle of a young exploitee, Huening “I got signed at nineteen” Kai. Although he’s earned enough ‘you got it easy’s when he debuted, nothing could ever prepare him for the present plight he’ll fall into.

“You said enough for your fans to riot. That, unfortunately, includes a label strife.” Beomgyu already welcomed him with direct points as soon as he arrived. “Look, I get that you can’t stay in your pretty island mansion for a while, but I’m only allowing you to spend a few days here. I don’t want to wake up with theories of my name in your love song.”

Kai merely rolls his eyes, making his way to the kitchen for cold water. At this point, he knew the penthouse like his own. “Nobody gets them right anyway. You’ll receive clout, and I’ll piss out my old homophobic company. A win-win.”

“Not when the song is about an asshole.” Beomgyu lets him do whatever he wants with the space. Even sliding a coaster under the glass Kai took. But apparently, getting tangled up with the vague narrative Kai releases with his music was where he drew the line.

“Not my fault you keep introducing me to self-indulgent jerks. If we end up together, I’ll hold that against you,” Kai ignores the grimace on his friend’s face. “You’ll move in with me in my pretty island mansion that you love so much and sell this penthouse to one of my exes.”

Beomgyu grew immune to the conversation way earlier than he would have if he didn’t know Kai. “Tell me the same thing when Taehyun stops inviting you every month for a little trouble in paradise. Then, I’ll take you seriously.”

“We’re not together,” Kai clarified, catching on to what Beomgyu was implying. “I don’t date, hyung, you know that.”

“It doesn’t matter, because no boy will even bother helping you with this right now.” The exchange of pleasantries ends there. “HYBE doesn’t want to let you go and now you can’t even use your own songs for a documentary series. They robbed you! How are you not mad?!”

“Who am I if not exploited- ouch!”

“Huening Kai!”

Oh, his government name. His signature, his stage persona. Kai had built a world around such a person that it’s slowly turning into a relic of his youth. In his dreams, he can see himself step out of him and watch everything outside in.

Huening Kai was confident, unfailing. He sings and plays the guitar like a rockstar. Huening Kai plays the piano like a lovesick fool with all the break-up songs he’s written in the past years. And he’ll come back feeling brand new, ego fed upon realizing who he can be. But in this empty penthouse with only Beomgyu looking at him with worried eyes in exchange of fascinated ones, it didn’t feel right.

Beomgyu wasn’t aware of all the pent up anger boiling within the shadow that Huening Kai casted on him. It was anything but what he could grasp. How are you not mad? “I’m going to buy my masters back,” He reassured; it’s for the both of them. “If HYBE won’t give them to me, then I’ll buy them.”

“What will you do if they won’t sell it to you?”

“Then fuck them. I’ll get the knife.”

“And I thought Taehyun was the violent half of this whole.” Beomgyu already knew that Kai was just as distraught as he was, probably more. He didn’t need to be an artist to feel the turmoil. “So much for singing about peace.”

“Should I just quit my job and join your photoshoots?”

“I’m sure my boss would love to hire you.”

Kai groans. “Here comes the greedy money makers that like to exploit young dreamers. There’s a plethora of songs about this, but I have them all in my gym playlist.” He paused. “I don’t go to the gym.”

“Sure,” Beomgyu giggles, leaving a hint of his dry throat for the night. Once, he was Kai’s biggest fan and believer, but he’s taking this with a grain of salt. And Kai knows this enough to even lightly brush off the career he’s built all his life.

When Kai was young, his father liked to hoist him up from the ground and in his arms. He would feel as though he’s high enough to reach the clouds as it was nothing for a child who could barely help himself up without grasping on to something heavier than he was. And at that age, it’s everything. It’s the table that his sister baby-proofed before he was even born, the seat that he’s never seen the surface of, and apparently, so were the countless instruments lying around their home that he’s yet to know.

Learning how to play the guitar was easier than school. That’s what he’s sure of. When he grew enough to be so heavy for his father to hold, he stuck with sitting beside him to play the piano. It wasn’t anything crazier than their yearly showcase of musical performances. His sisters were singers, so was he, but he stayed back as an accompaniment—providing background for more important parts that weren't him.

The spotlight, if it were to be, was not something he yearned for. When his sister debuted as a performer, he saw how much it drained her a million little times. He likes music. He loves it. He can’t imagine losing the light and flame it sparks every time he presses a key on the piano or strum a chord in his guitar. His father, too, was a singer. Kai held fragments of that truth with his family and the people who had watched him parade the stage when he was a child. Dancing to a familiar voice was his favorite, and his father looked enough like him to be familiar.

It’s apparent that their family was full of stars and prodigies, and Kai falls on the latter category just right when he could tell the very note his father snores with from the day he could speak. “You have a gift,” He was told, but he failed to indulge himself heavily on what that meant for him.

And yet he still carried the very statement today—even when what he harnessed barely met half of his potential. This time, it was Beomgyu who told him: “Just never stop singing, Kai. It’s your thing.” Only reminding him why he’s there.

“It’s my whole life,” he said. And even though Beomgyu added a weight on his shoulder; it was no secret that Kai was the biggest burden of his own.

So much for not yearning for the spotlight—he finds himself trapped in it now.

_________________

When HYBE refused to sell him his masters, Kai swore to burn down all the things they created through his name. Even the towering building, constructed with glistening windows in its exterior, urged him to throw every stone he could see for the tiniest crack to bring him solace. But it would never be enough.

Contrary to what Beomgyu said, Kai ended up staying longer than a week in his place. He has, for the most part, managed to master encapsulating every little emotion that’s growing stronger in an imaginary box. And he wonders if it will develop into an explosive that will break the chambers of his heart. Full of hate and vengeance. Such a pitiful state.

“Well, fuck them!” With poor choice of words—or with careful thought of the right ones—Taehyun cursed like the scholar he is. “They take you as a fool! For all we know, they’ll be selling it to some hooligan company at double its value.”

“Kai?” Beomgyu was more worried than mad. He’s the only one who’s seen Kai through every legal discussion the entire week. And it's unpretty.

In this scenario, all Kai could do was wait for the next move HYBE will pull. Perhaps wake up one day with another headline that goes ‘Huening Kai, HYBE Labels fallout: Everything We Know (Updated!)’ and he’ll read about his masters being tossed around like a ragdoll everyone fancies but is too scared to keep. Something similar to what Taehyun said. Or possibly worse. Imagining it only drives Kai insane and drunk on anxiety.

Kai looks over at an angered Taehyun, dressed in denim jeans and a simple black shirt from Kai's guest room closet. It’s jarring to realize that he’s spending a significant part of this chain of unfortunate events with a casual fling. But it was Taehyun who first called him up to ask, therefore, he was the blame for a mad Beomgyu when he caught them kissing by the front door. Stupid as their hands wander around like lost people. In a way, it constitutes who they were. May it be twin flames twisted in white duvet or burnt people trying to prove they’re still fine. In the end, Taehyun spared him enough empathy and courage to even meet his close friend over worry.

“I’ll figure something out,” he only said amidst a thousand thoughts. “There’s just so many things going on at the same time—I can’t even enter my house without getting followed by cameras and microphones.”

“It will die down. Place security all over your front yard to scare them away,” Taehyun was quick to suggest, aware of the consequences they are expected to suck up like a mindless doll. He once described fame as a leash that holds you down but makes you feel secure. It chokes you, he said. But losing it makes you feel naked.

“You know what I feel about security, they scare me.”

“Rather than having them find you now and camp in the lobby.” They all make a pause. Kai pondered on the possibility Taehyun had pointed out—the last thing he wanted was to drag other people into this mess. He’s bothered Beomgyu enough to stir a swirling feeling in his stomach, yet he’s still welcomed with open arms like he’s coming home.

“I have to go.” Kai loses to the uneasiness in his system.

“You can stay.” There was a generous hint of assurance on Beomgyu face when he said. And Kai fought the urge to remind him never to be so kind.

Beomgyu would have shrugged it off as a joke when he’s aware of how much he’s willing to give Kai without any questions. They were, and still are, each other’s ride or die. It’s a title that Beomgyu officially bestowed upon their friendship one day at a messy 7/11 over cup ramen that, strangely, Kai would always remember. He was a small human in such a big city, and Beomgyu was there, flabbergasted when he found out it’s his first meal in Seoul.

But that's who Beomgyu is. He’s reserved. But once you become part of his circle, he lets you know you are.

Beomgyu glanced at Taehyun after a gentle look at Kai’s face. “Except for you,” he added.

The third person in the room cracked a smile. “I was about to go anyway,” Taehyun scoffed with a lace of playfulness. First impressions of each other weren’t the best when Beomgyu was merely tolerating the fact that Kai made out with a stranger in his home. Knowing who Kai was singing about is different from actually knowing who they are. It’s easier to imagine a random blond celebrity than seeing a living and breathing Kang Taehyun on his couch.

He watches the celebrity stand up to stretch the bones in his legs, hearing a few clicks with a flinch. “If Kai is walking you out, make sure you won’t end up fucking in my entrance.”

“When did you get so crude?” Kai slapped the exposed skin past Beomgyu’s shorts and followed Taehyun’s movements out the living room. He glares one last time before his line of sight gets blocked by the wall dividing the hallways. “Thank you for checking up on me.”

“We were friends before everything else, Kai-ah. I’ve heard you talk about your music so much that I knew you’d be devastated with all this going on.”

“I am, you know, still devastated. It’s killing me inside, but I can’t do anything about it.”

Taehyun shifted in his stand, limping as he’s wearing his shoes one-by-one. He took his time before he could reply, choosing his words carefully. He does this while trying not to get lost in his own head. “You can always call me,” he said. “And if you need a new place, you know mine.”

“You’re sweet, but I wouldn’t dare,” he snorts, cutely. Kai has never been less endearing before; it stays that way. “I already know a place.”

It was vague enough for Taehyun to mindlessly nod and trail off to oblivion. Boundaries were always blurry between the two of them, but with Kai’s lopsided grin, Taehyun wouldn’t dare ask where it was. Instead, he says, “Be safe,” with a lingering stroke on the hand he took between them.

________________

A place has an intricate difference from a place that one already knows. And Kai ponders if the grounds to his actions was familiarity when he started mapping the road across the city; to an unsuspecting street he abandoned when he was nineteen. It was, now, different from how it used to be. From the houses and buildings, to the dead leaves of autumn compared to his spring memories.

Memories that someone in this world will say he had recognized because Kai laid himself bare for the world to memorize all the years of his life. But every lyric from a narrative is only a fragment of a picture Kai digs deep in his soul. Here is a part of Kai that the world doesn’t know. It’s a song that he wrote because speaking isn’t enough.

He stops. Car dead in a corner that nobody sees. He would say that it’s a miracle if the place was still how he remembered it, but only fools like him would walk up to a house that doesn’t know the sound of his shoes against the porch, and knock.

If it was spring, perhaps the sunlight would kiss the very person’s skin when the door opens naturally. But on a dark autumn night, it was chilly. The hand that held the knob open on the other side had a knitted cardigan sleeve covering most of it as the person wore it all.

“Kai?” The disbelief in the tone was the most believable in the whole ordeal. Kai feels his knees weaken when he meets the person’s eyes, wide and still as warm as he dreamed them to be.

“Hyung,” Kai called. It’s been so long since he last did. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

__________________

Songwriting is all about what inspires you. The magic to embark a thousand emotions in a few words that’s enough to rattle your bones and falsify the story in your head. Think about it as poison. Something alluring. A drug that devours you: sight, touch, taste, and mind. Seducing you into a frenzy and consuming you whole. It leaves you no space to think about anything else. Not the words you’ll write on paper, not the keys you’ll press on the piano. Just a nonexistent song. A song so profound that it will harness the ability to construct a counterfeit of a person that broke your heart, or a stranger you met in the library with an unforgettable smile.

Kai had known such a feat from the very beginning of his career, however, self-aware of what songwriting can yield. He came in terms with one truth: a person is more than a song written about them. But there’s a lingering theory that maybe, maybe a song written for them is more than the person it’s written for.

The theory brings Kai back to the present, with over a hundred songs that he no longer owns. He’s on someone’s couch with a cup of warm water he didn’t ask for but still consumed. The boy in the cardigan, he knows better as Soobin, merely looks at him with a blank face. Although, it didn’t take him long to finally speak his mind.

“Do you know how ridiculous it looked like to come knocking at some strangers’ door this late at night?”

Kai already saw this coming. “I wasn’t expecting you to let me in with open arms, but I don’t wish for you to call me a stranger.”

“You are,” Soobin said with a tone laced with bitterness. He doesn’t even let himself sit anywhere closer besides the kitchen counter at least five steps away. “You’re a stranger, Kai. But I won’t forgive myself if I left you out in the cold at night. Yeonjun-hyung would think the same.”

“Where is he?”

“Sleeping, and I’m not waking him up for this.”

It’s not new. In a time in Kai’s life, he imagined how this moment would be. Soobin was a bearer of Kai’s countless memories, and his attitude stands out like a sore thumb. They went to the same high school together in Ansan, even before Kai met Beomgyu in Seoul. Soobin was a senior, but they got along well because they shared the same table in the library for years until they graduated and started college.

Soobin was charming. He had a face with the softest features one fails to see as intimidating. That’s why Kai didn’t take so long to talk to him and find out why he spends his time alone for the most part.

“Hi-”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, okay.”

Apparently, the rude but bunny looking boy only gives one person the time of day—Choi Yeonjun. The dance club president that everybody talks about.

In a way, Kai cannot imagine them apart. It’s like a constant needed for the equilibrium of the universe. Unlike Soobin, Yeonjun was a juxtaposition. He was a lot kinder, a lot more affectionate, and more approachable despite the sharp lines of his features. Yeonjun had a stronger voice that spoke only the sweetest words. However, he was always stuck with Choi Soobin, everyone’s favorite introvert. He befriends none, but is acquainted with everyone.

Kai doesn’t know how they do it, but it was only right for him to see Yeonjun descend the stairs with lazy stomps. “Don’t be rude, Binnie.”

“He’s only staying over for a night, hyung. Who knows, he might end up leaving before we even wake up,” Soobin scoffed, not refraining from showing his blatant distaste for Kai’s presence.

“I still would have wanted to see him.” Yeonjun shamelessly pressed a soft kiss on Soobin’s cheek in an attempt to calm him down. He knows all the ways to Soobin’s heart. “A guest is a guest, and Kai is a friend.”

“He’s not.”

“Well, he’s mine,” Yeonjun said, unconsciously making Kai shiver in surprise. It came and went too fast to be considered a goosebump. “Prepare the guest room for him, please?” he immediately turned to face Kai, as if he’s not expecting Soobin to complain. “And as for you, you can spend the night, but you have to tell me why you’re out and about on the streets.”

Kai masked an unexplainable ache when he understood what that meant. “Oh, you haven’t been keeping up with me,” he wanted to say, but instead he says, “Paparazzi surrounding my house,” as if that’s enough to quench all the curiosity in Yeonjun tonight.

“Did you get yourself in a scandal?”

“No, not really. I refused to renew my contact with HYBE and now they’re not letting me own my music. It’s an incredibly tiring process, and I’m sorry for coming over this late at night.”

Yeonjun seemed amused. “Why are you apologizing? You’re always welcome back home, Hyuka.”

Kai falters. It wringed his guts to notice how Yeonjun made him feel like the bridge he wrote for thirty minutes on a warm spring morning—guilty.

________________

Kai was frequently visited by sonder, like tides that rule in the back of his mind to keep grounded. When you reach peaks in your life, you often need reminders that your feet are still on the ground. So, Kai reins in empathy. To the man driving the car next to him. To the person who served him tea. To the journalists. Writers. Bigots. Lovers.

To a particular man with the kindest heart, and a pretty boy setting his bed—lips jutted out and tousled hair covering bits of his line of sight.

Kai understands Soobin the most, even with the grunts that hints his distaste for Kai’s presence. It didn’t change the fact that pillows and plushies were carefully placed on the neatly draped duvet. How long has it been since he basked in the feeling of Soobin being merely a few steps away?

“You’re still the same,” he let one thought slip, but didn’t dare show his staggering smile. “But don’t let my nostalgia bother you. I’m just thinking out loud.”

“It’s too late for that when I don’t even want you here,” Soobin said frankly. He stood stern on his feet as he faced a rather unfazed Kai. “You know where the bathroom is, so I don’t have to show you around. But since you’re so oblivious to change, I must tell you not to knock on our door if you have nightmares.”

Kai grew familiar with the underlying resentment in an old friend’s tone. “I don’t do that anymore. Don’t worry,” he chuckled, enraged by the irritated expression Soobin’s face morphs into.

“So, you’re not the same.”

“Would you be a little bit kinder if I was?”

Soobin stared at him. If this wasn’t one of a thousand, it would have rattled his soul. Soobin’s eyes. They have the power to make you feel like you’re the only person in this treacherous world. However, refraining to be deluded, Kai knew that Soobin momentarily allowed himself to think of him. Even if it’s in shades of red.

He no longer waits for a reply. “Good night, hyung,” he said. Then he watched Soobin walk away without saying goodbye, but it didn’t leave him with a heavy heart. Soobin’s sentiments lingered on the mere fact that he fixed Kai’s bed, and that’s enough.

In his defense, they haven’t seen each other for almost a decade. It would take more than a pathetic appearance and a helpless cry to rekindle their friendship—if it could still be salvaged. Otherwise, Kai will have to begin again like it’s his first time seeing Soobin smile in the tranquil library.

It’s not so bad, Kai eased. He’s got enough things to think about for the night, but it didn’t stop there.

He was taken out of rest when Beomgyu called at daybreak. The sun was barely peeking through the clouds, but it colored the sky purple and pink. Kai felt disgusted having to answer his phone before brushing his teeth as Beomgyu’s voice rained in with curses and worried sentiments.

“I’m at a friends’ house. They’re kind enough to let me stay.”

There was a pause on the other end, and Kai almost thought that the call was dropped. “Listen. A bunch of producers are sending me emails about your shoot. I don’t know what to tell them other than the fact that you have other shit to worry about!” Beomgyu’s voice echoed through his empty penthouse and Kai could hear it from the other side of the line. “Of course, I didn’t curse at them—don’t worry. These are big shot producers treating me like your manager. How did they even get my email? The last time I was this professional was when I applied for my job. Do you know how long it’s been? Ten years. Ten fucking years, Kai! I swear to God, you should start paying me for all the shit I have to do for you.”

“Hyung, hyung..” Kai is halfway through the process of waking up. It’s too early for this. “I’m sorry about the email fiasco, but I honestly don’t have the same energy as you do right now.”

The emails were Kai’s fault alone. As if he hadn’t burdened Beomgyu enough, he purposely gave those unrelenting producers the man’s contact information though he explicitly tells them it’s only appropriate for emergencies. However, he’s to blame for the solutions they figured. After all, his work-related messages were left unattended for quite some time now, and they have a schedule to follow.

He requested for a delay, but it’s overdue. It was beyond his knowledge to even predict that HYBE Labels would hang around his frustrations this long.

“Why not? Get up and start your day! Also, I can’t believe you didn’t even tell me you’re leaving last night.”

“You literally walked me out the door.” Kai would never just leave without telling Beomgyu, what the fuck? That’s an old story burnt and forgotten.

“Fuck, I’m too old for this,” Beomgyu cursed. Kai giggles with his eyes closed at that.“I’m turning thirty-one next year, Kai, can you believe it? And here I am planning your documentary series because you’re basically jobless.”

Perhaps, that’s true. But he’s big enough to stand alone, and Beomgyu knows this adequately to even bother with his projects. The list goes on and on about what he should thank Beomgyu for—he dares not to take advantage of the kindness existing. Maybe he could treat Beomgyu out for lunch or give him a trip overseas. Though, Beomgyu is capable enough to afford those.

For now, he gives Beomgyu a grateful smile, even if he can’t see. “Thank you for reminding me, but I actually don’t know what to do about that either. I have to settle my masters then I can finally start shooting, or else I’ll end up using those free songs on Youtube to avoid copyright problems.” Momentarily, Kai hears Beomgyu parrot everything he’s saying. “Are you writing this down?”

“Yeah. I’m constructing a wonderful email, because being your manager is now a side-job to my modeling career.” There’s a series of typing on Beomgyu’s end before he spoke again. “Hey, where are you?”

“Ansan,” Kai answers without a hitch. “You don’t have to email them, hyung. I can do it instead.”

Beomgyu ignores the latter statement. “Hmm. And who are you with?”

“Yeonjun and Soobin. They’re nice people, don’t worry.” Kai felt the need to add the last bit as he’s not entirely sure if Beomgyu heard of them before.

“Cool,” Beomgyu murmured. “Funny. Their names sound familiar.”

Oh.

“Funny.”

__________________

It was quiet in Ansan. More peaceful than what Kai was used to. He wasn’t sure if it was the ambience granted by the autumn leaves and the swings from the opposite end of the street, but he imagined settling down like this before. In the suburbs that’s an epitome of serene, in a house not too small or large for a person who moves so little because he’s tired, with someone he’ll settle down with and a dog that will lay on his lap if it’s cold.

Kai had it all planned out. Had he not been tangled in his current affairs then he’ll let his mind rest, but he already felt the burden of his consequences when Soobin woke up for breakfast. With a scowl—he felt the need to add that detail.

To say that he was ashamed would be an understatement; it was delayed hours after sitting through the mixed reaction from old friends he abandoned once upon a time. He found Soobin’s treatment the most appropriate. How do you react when an old, old friend who you lost contact with suddenly appears on your doorstep like nothing happened?

Kai finds it daunting himself, and he was the one invading.

Contrary to all beliefs, finding friends in the industry wasn’t hard. But it wasn’t easy either. Kai had Taehyun, a co-artist who he kisses every now and then. Then he had a few acquaintances from past collaborations and projects that he took for granted—admittedly. They all gave him their numbers only for Kai to never reach out to them again. As if they no longer have value in his life now that they’ve given him what he needed.

That was never his intention. Beomgyu always said that he does a horrible job at balancing relationships and fails in the basic foundation of it all: communication. Then you find him harnessing all of what people can contribute for his well-being, you find him in Soobin and Yeonjun’s home for the exact reason people expect from him.

He didn’t know where else to go.

Soobin looked at him that night with utmost confusion, shaded with a speck of hurt, manifesting into anger when he realized who it was. It doesn’t falter even when Kai did his best to prepare breakfast for people that are basically strangers in Soobin’s dictionary. How much did he miss?

Kai wants to know every little thing again, like before.

“You can’t just touch our food without permission.” Soobin was the first to wake up, uncharacteristically. The last of him that Kai prominently remembers was his tardiness, but he seems to outgrew it now.

Kai didn’t let the comment bother him. Instead he pulled a chair as an invitation, even with the uncertainty that Soobin will take it. “I’d rather not wake you up for that,” Kai said. “I’m not the greatest cook, but give it a chance.”

“It’s just rice, eggs, and sausages, Kai. Even a child knows how to make them,” Soobin scoffed with the silent complaint to what Kai wanted him to do. He sits on the chair and doesn’t call for Kai to join him.

Kai lets himself sit, nevertheless. “So, will you be here all day?”

“Unlike you, we actually need to work to earn money.”

“What do you think I do for a living?”

“Smile for seven million,” Soobin replied without thinking, not taking him seriously at all.

“For seven million,” Kai thinks that’s ridiculous. “Celebrities like me get paid ten,” He indulged, enjoying the look on Soobin’s face. It’s not new to see Soobin angry, but it was long gone before he left him. Soobin was happier after they’ve sown bonds. It was a new area for Kai again.

“You get paid ten now and five in a few years. It’s mercurial. Before you die, nobody’s going to remember you until you do. Then you’ll never be heard of again because your legacy is a mere song in the elevator.”

“That’s brutal. I made you breakfast and you’re patronizing my career.” Kai was still munching when he sighed like a lone being, speaking his mind because nobody was listening.

“I am not in debt to you. It’s the other way around,” Soobin said. “My house, my food, my meal.” Kai doesn’t miss the emphasis on the word, not when Soobin cocks his head to the side and attempts to appear more intimidating. It doesn’t work, however, when Kai pokes the peeking dimple on the older man’s cheek.

Oh, Soobin. You are so cute.

“Don’t worry, hyungie. I won’t take anything from you.” Kai smiles. “My legacy goes beyond my ‘elevator tunes’—it’s how many times I tell the same story over and over again until people finally get it.”

“And what’s that?”

Soobin hates it and Kai already knows. His nose flared, his eyebrows furrowed, and his ears red. Kai told him too little of what’s supposed to be too much and he hates it. It angers him for Kai to talk like he should know the right answers when he doesn't.

Yeonjun wakes up just before Kai could even come up with a response—though, he ought not to. Unlike Soobin, he invited himself to the table and kissed Soobin’s lips without thinking about the gaze that fell on them. The beholder was Kai, who moved to fill a bowl for Yeonjun to eat as he waited for the unnerving notion in his system to dwindle without further trace, giving the couple their unsolicited privacy. He never wished to deprive them of their home.

“You’re finally getting along.” Yeonjun was too enthusiastic about the seemingly impossible, yet neither Soobin nor Kai countered his account. “And you didn’t need to make us breakfast, Hyuka. Binnie could have whipped something up in five minutes or so. I’m sure you missed his cooking.”

“It’s the least I could do to thank you,” Kai said with a shy smile. Talking to Yeonjun feels so familiar, erupting a fizzly feeling in his stomach like champagne. Yeonjun was always charismatic, he held an aura that draws you in, and Kai was no exception.

They sat close, with Soobin and Kai across from each other and Yeonjun adjacent to the both of them. It gave the oldest of the three the advantage to touch Kai without putting much effort, unknowingly driving him to a bundle of warmth whenever their knees touch.

Bravely, Yeonjun aims for Kai’s cheek. “Cutie, I told you that you’re always welcome to come by.” He laughs, melting all the tension from the previous conversation with Kai and Soobin alone. “Don’t be a stranger. You’re our person—our home is yours.”

“Hyung.” Soobin seemed to have combat. “We barely know him.”

“How much can a person change in seven years? You’re still the same person as you were before, you don’t disappear,” Yeonjun said with significant certainty, as if he never doubted himself once. “Stop wasting time. We never got together like this after Kai moved to Seoul.”

Kai only falls silent, letting the words spiral like they’re etched in stone and thrown in his direction. Perhaps a part of him was hoping that Yeonjun was right. He wants to believe that there’s still so much that he knows because change was constant, it’s not supposed to be terrifying. But he knows that it could never be.

He sees it just by the way Soobin finishes his meal with a bowl of rice when he used to eat seconds and thirds; how Yeonjun already showered before coming out of his room when Kai remembers him shivering at the slightest touch of water on his skin on chilly seasons.

Or how Yeonjun only kissed Soobin good morning when he was right there.

“Nothing is the same,” He wanted to say. Instead he put on a face and changed the trajectory of everything that he had in his mind. “So, what time are you coming home?”

_________________

Kai felt like he slept for days, but he still woke up to a message that his lawyer stopped by Beomgyu’s penthouse to arrange a meeting. It was one that he requested himself upon further evaluation of his inconceivable contract and his rights—or lack thereof—to his masters.

“We talked about this before but it’s really how it is,” He was told. “Music is particularly complex when it comes to copyright laws, but what HYBE Labels is refusing to sell you is your musical work copyright.”

Kai nods to take it in. “My masters.”

“Yes. The contract only gives you the composition rights which inherently restrict you from using your songs in anything at all.” For the most part, Kai was grateful that his lawyer was using the most basic language to suffice his curiosity, but it was hard to fathom how much of this is not worth debating with a company in the industry.

This is a chunk of his honesty, faith, belief, and life—and now it’s not even his anymore. Not even his in the first place. All of his hard work down the drain when it’s his story.

A bystander cleared his throat, raising his hand like he’s in class. “What’s the difference between a master license and composition license?” It was Beomgyu who was listening to the whole exchange. He asked if he could sit-in to get the gist of it, and Kai thought that he’d appreciate opinions that weren’t his own for once.

“The composition license covers the lyrics, melodies, sheet music, and anything that makes up the final recording. This is the copyright that Kai-ssi owns. The master license is for the song recording itself.”

Beomgyu hums with what sounds like a chop off at the end. “Isn’t that just the same thing?”

“It’s not.” Kai exhales in exasperation. The solution he can think of is to attempt to reach out again without sounding like he’s five seconds away from attempting murder on the very head of the label.

HYBE used to be so kind, so motivating. It chiseled a hollow in his heart, and he was fully-aware that there was more to it than anger. Because anger doesn’t make you grieve for relationships you lost. It doesn’t make you cry for the memories you love to have.

Kai will never say that out loud. Not yet.

He lets his lawyer construct an email for the whole ordeal and he’ll probably wake up to receive the company’s response on the headlines with another outrageous claim. Perhaps about him changing skin—suddenly putting an act of fake niceties—or about the land he apparently bought from a country he’s never been to. And if there’s an article about him and Taehyun, he wouldn’t be fazed. There’d be too many names mixed up for people to even believe it’s true.

He wonders what the Kai from seven years ago would think if he sees himself now. Would he even dare to dream? He wonders if this was the life he imagined he’d have after leaving everything behind.

Seven years is a long time. So much has changed.

“I really think they’re the same thing,” Beomgyu muses, watching the lawyer take his leave with a neutral look on his face. He never understood why lawyers should always wear formal suits, but it does a lot for image building. When the copyright laws were explained it was more down-to-earth than he expected, but Kai seems to keep brushing off his sentiments. “Do you really think that they’ll sell you the masters this time?”

“No,” Kai answered honestly. “But trying won’t harm me.”

He continues, “I think what worries me more is what comes after I get my masters.”

Beomgyu snorts at the sudden pondering. “You can do anything. It’s not like you’ll run out of money when you start to let go.”

“Should I start dating?” Kai proposed. He always acted reckless, it’s already built upon his name. “Maybe settle down somewhere and get married. Adopt children, I want at least two.”

“Will you sell your island mansion?” Beomgyu only asks important questions. “I’ll buy it if you will.”

“I’ll let you know.”

Beomgyu probably loves that island mansion more than him.

_________________

The story was this: Kai lives a busy life, he yearns for a peaceful home, so he buys one in the middle of nowhere. It’s called an island mansion mostly because Beomgyu named it that way, but it leads to the fact that the mansion is on a literal island—a chunk of land surrounded by water with pretty rocks that he names when he’s bored.

Oddly, Ansan reminds him of his own home. The sound of leaves rustling as they fall replicate the sound of crashing waves from a distance. Or perhaps it’s the other way around.

He sits by the window and watches the cars driving by. One car in particular stopped close enough for Kai to see an old couple walking through a street of red leaves. They were peaceful and happy, everything Kai keeps failing to buy.

His mind drifted towards Taehyun, the person closest he could get to a lover. To take their relationship as an analogy of love would be wrong, but Kai feels no discomfort between Taehyun’s arms. Taehyun kisses him gently and touches him delicately. Taehyun promised to take care of him when they first crossed the line and Kai bestowed decades worth of trust on someone he never thought would give him many firsts.

In hindsight, it’s just sex. But that’s just a variable. The constant was mutual understanding. The common knowledge that they weren’t in love, but they love each other dearly. It’s not something that even Taehyun can put to words, and he’s the more eloquent of the two, but they don’t have to when they already know.

So, Kai watches the old, happy couple from a distance like a fool. Thinking about a man he knew he would have to let go someday, and failed to notice the opening of the door just a few feet away from him.

“Kai-ah, we’re here,” Yeonjun’s voice was soft and welcoming, despite him being the one who’s coming home. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Welcome home,” Kai found his voice to respond. He sees Soobin who merely glanced at him, but still murmured a quiet welcome just enough for him to hear.

Love can wait. Dinner will have to come first.

__________________

Kai tries to make the most of his stay in the peaceful home of Yeonjun and Soobin, and easily fall into their routine. Surprisingly, Soobin gets better at tolerating his presence as days go by and does his best not to draw the ends of his beautiful lips further down to his chin. Kai likes to think that Yeonjun didn’t have anything to do with it, that it was all from Soobin’s own will to look a little grateful for Kai’s insistence to make breakfast, and he’d look away when Yeonjun plants his love on Soobin’s frowning face to draw a smile.

Living with Yeonjun and Soobin was nothing like he remembered it to be. Although the eggshells Kai walked on slowly started to turn into sediments, shards of their wrath were still scattered everywhere. And who was he to complain? He can’t blame them for feeling like an outcast when he burdened them with his presence. It’s their relationship and lives he’s invading. He’s not supposed to be here.

“Good morning, hyung.” This was Kai’s favorite part of the day. “Please, have breakfast before you go.”

He watched Soobin gulp down a glass of water—something he always does in the morning—and needed not to be invited to his own seat. Kai never imagined himself to gain so much pleasure from taking care of someone like this, but his heart doubles over when Yeonjun does the same a few minutes later.

When Kai finally joined them, his knee was slightly nudged from where Soobin was peacefully chewing. It wasn’t made carelessly as it seems when Soobin scoffed right after swallowing. “Sorry—not used to having three people crowding in here.”

“Soobin-ah,” Yeonjun calls as a warning.

Instances like this aren’t accidents anymore, Kai was almost used to it. “It’s fine, hyungie. I’ll get you a bigger table if that’s what makes you happy.”

“That’s so easy for you to do.”

“I’d do anything to make hyung happy.”

Soobin slams his spoon beside his rice bowl, but says nothing. Kai wouldn’t know how to respond anyway.

“The food will get cold,” Yeonjun said. He looks at Kai. “Are you going somewhere today? You’re all dressed up.”

“I’m always dressed up.” Kai smiled. It’s easier to talk to Yeonjun when he does—it wipes away the worry in Yeonjun’s eyes that’s supposed to be strong and beautiful. “But I do have plans in Seoul. I’ll be back before you do.”

“Oh, let Soobin drive you. He’s heading there for a meeting,” Yeonjun said, like it’s the greatest plan in the world. In moments like this, Kai thinks that Yeonjun looks at his boyfriend and Kai with rose tinted glasses. As if Soobin wasn’t physically making efforts to make him feel unwelcomed just a few minutes ago.

Soobin’s been doing a great job at staying quiet, but certainly not this time. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Yeonjun held his hand. “It’s a good way to spend some time together. Get some fresh air. It’s barely an hour long ride, baby.”

Kai sees Yeonjun give Soobin those pleading looks that nobody could resist, and it makes Kai shift on his seat. The last thing he wants is for Soobin to be forced into something he doesn’t want to do, especially not for him. “It’s not necessary, hyung. I can just take the bus like always.”

Yeonjun didn’t like that idea. Kai forgot how uncomfortable it must be to be caught in the middle, and perhaps this was Yeonjun’s attempt to make things a little bit better. He doesn’t fight for it anymore, uttering something about work and dinner and anything to change the subject, and Kai pretends to fall for it.

Yeonjun is the first to leave today, instinctively patting Kai’s head and kissing Soobin’s lips. They do it so often that Kai already knows the times he’s supposed to look away. “Be back before we do,” Yeonjun told him, once again handing his own spare keys.

Soobin gets up just after Kai steps out the door. He debates whether or not to wait until after Soobin leaves and avoid having him drive past Kai like a stranger on the street, but he had lost all dignity to even have an ounce of shame. What’s not part of the plan, however, was Soobin following him out.

“It’s quite stupid of you to take the bus with barely anything to hide your face,” Soobin only made Kai stop in his tracks to look back at him, fingers fumbling with his own sweater as Soobin taps the head of his car door.

“I blend in pretty well in crowds.”

Soobin doesn’t move from his place, but cocks his head to the side as if Kai said every word wrong. “You don’t. You stand out.” He sighed. “Get in. I’ll drive you.”

“Wait, really?” Kai almost believed him. Almost.

“Get in now or I’ll change my mind.”

Kai made a home in Soobin’s passenger seat the whole ride. He swore he wrote a song about this before.

__________________

“Do you want to play?” Yeonjun asked when Kai found the old keyboard in the living room. It was covered in dust despite hiding all these years in a curtain filled cupboard. “I don’t know if it still works though, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

Kai made the mistake of opening the small storage doors above the bookshelf. “I shouldn’t. I don’t want to make Soobin-hyung mad.” He looked across the room, where the kitchen was openly displayed. Soobin was making dinner while Yeonjun and Kai lounge in the living room.

“Why would it make him mad?”

Kai shakes his head. Yeonjun always acts oblivious and it unfailingly starts battles inside of Kai every single time. “He probably hid this to forget about it.”

To forget about me.

Kai wasn’t the best at remembering things, but he could paint the exact moment he got it. He could still smell Yeonjun’s expensive perfume from holding him tight, and he could still feel the ghost of Soobin’s lips against his forehead. He got the keyboard for his birthday. His nineteenth. He was on his way to being a singer and they were the maker of his dreams.

“Play for me, Kai.” Yeonjun eagerly helped him pull the instrument out.

Who was Kai to refuse? He got it hooked up and plugged it in before turning it on. “Let’s just hope it still works.”

One note. He presses.

Another, and another.

Dust started to accumulate on his fingers, but he kept going to see the lost yet adoring look on Yeonjun’s face. In awe. He played a short piece and it muted everything around him. When was the last time he played amidst all the noise? He dares not to look at Soobin nor did he care about the particles tickling his lungs, choosing to go unaware of the anger he was about to face.

Music used to feel like this; it used to be like this. It used to be serene when he only heard what he wanted to hear. It used to be freeing when each movement wasn't calculated and certain. Music used to be Yeonjun and Soobin when their love started translating into notes. It used to be something so profound with the absence of pressure and expectations.

Then he stops. He carelessly dug his fingers against the pants Yeonjun let him borrow, and he coughs.

“That was beautiful,” Yeonjun said, seemingly unaffected by all the dust. “What was that called?”

When the coughing fit stops, Kai slowly wraps things back to where they were. “It’s nothing. Just something I made before.”

“Well, it was everything to me, Kai-ah. Thank you.” Yeonjun does his part by helping Kai get the keyboard back to where it used to be. Kai hoped it wasn’t going out again any time soon.

He looked up to where Soobin was and it felt cold when Soobin merely looked away. He had stopped momentarily and acted like nothing happened. “Is he upset?”

“He’s not. He probably missed it as much as I do.”

“It’s Soobin-hyung we’re talking about.” Kai frowns. “He took it away for a reason,” he said and he thought of Soobin erasing every trace he had as soon as he left for years to come.

Yeonjun’s brows furrowed in confusion. “But it wasn’t him who hid it, Kai.”

Then.

“I did.” Yeonjun shrugged.

__________________

He didn’t have a choice.

“It’s either you do this or get sued.”

“I’ll get sued either way.”

Kai should definitely consider paying Beomgyu for all the work he’s doing. As soon as November arrived, sporadic days followed and everything was blamed on the man who’s embodying the role of Kai’s manager. Beomgyu seemed to have made it a mission to keep Kai busy amidst all trouble, a feat Kai should have known when Beomgyu's relentless in nature, inherently passionate about art, and he is Kai's biggest fan.

“When will we get this done?” Kai asked Beomgyu when a script, surprisingly, landed on his lap without much information given. It wasn’t horrible, no, not at all. A bit intrusive, yes, but keeping answers to his chest was a long time failed plan Kai no longer finds attainable.

“If everything happens according to plan, I say 2-3 months. Post production included.” It wasn’t Beomgyu who answered. Even though Kai had worked with strangers before, he’s still very nervous whenever he does.

He sighs. “Nothing goes according to plan.”

“We’re here to make sure it does,” the man replied with a dedication Kai adored. “I’m Seo Chinhwa, the director.”

Kai springs from his seat and bowed down. “I’m Huening Kai.”

“I’d be horrible if I didn’t know that,” Chinhwa’s comment elicited laughter from the crew, now evidently listening to the exchange. It was the first time he’s meeting someone like Chinhwa outside of the professional walls of HYBE Labels. He ought to get used to it now. “We’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Kai-nim.”

“I can’t wait.” It definitely seems that way. Even as Beomgyu insisted to do him a favor by driving to Ansan, the hint of excitement remained evident on his face. If Beomgyu noticed, he never made a comment.

Car rides are never quiet with Beomgyu. He was probably the only person Kai knows who still listens to the radio instead of sharing a playlist for a more foreseeable tune, but then again, Beomgyu was always full of surprises. How he settled things with Chinhwa, Kai wasn’t so sure. Beomgyu merely smiled when he asked. “He’s easy to talk to,” he added.

“Don’t you have work, hyung?” Kai never runs out of questions.

“I had a photoshoot last week; another one this Saturday. My schedule is a lot more flexible than you think.” Beomgyu talks with his whole body, shoulders swaying and head tilting. It’s a blessing that he at least knows how to keep his hands on the wheel. “Why? Do you want to get rid of me so soon?”

“Even if I did, I couldn’t.”

Beomgyu laughed so loud, Kai was sure the cars near them could hear. “You’re funny, Hyuka. Sometimes I forget about that.”

Kai doesn’t know if he should take it as a compliment or an insult. A retort never came, but Kai’s scoff was a hint enough for Beomgyu to take. So, the older one adds, “Have you ever thought about making a new album?” he asked like it’s from the top of his head. “It would be great, you know, for the documentary and your fans.”

“I don’t even remember what my studio looks like,” Kai remarks, uncertain of what he could say otherwise. Releasing an album amidst the whole predicament would be a statement, but Kai wasn’t so sure if he can even make it happen in such a short notice. It’s easier said than done. “There’s no time to write anything.”

A tiny voice keeps ringing in his ear: there is always time, Kai thought. He could hear the younger version of him say it with so much passion. It was then when Kai still had so much to say, so much to offer. Contrary to the version of him now who could barely grip a pen without racking his life to find something he can still give.

“Just asking. I don’t know what else to do for you.”

“Oh, hyung..” Kai is as lost as Beomgyu. “You already did so much for me.”

__________________

Similar to the day he came, it was cold when Kai stepped foot on the porch of a beautiful home. But it was dark. Kai forgot how dark the world gets without the blast of lights in every square that surrounds him. The stars would have been the perfect guide if it weren’t for the clouds who decided to greet him good night.

“It’s late.” Yeonjun’s voice filled in the silent gaps of Kai’s hour. He was the first person Kai sees upon opening the door. “You weren’t here when we came home.”

“Oh,” Kai ever so eloquently said. He couldn’t find anything adequate to say. He didn’t hope that Yeonjun was waiting for his return.

But Yeonjun simply engulfs him in a hug, one that hides his face in Kai’s neck, like it’s the safest place in the world. “Kai,” he whispered, a sigh of relief escaped along his call. He didn’t like the foreign feeling of having Kai in his arms, and he dares to change that. “You should rest.”

Kai will have to face the inevitable and let Yeonjun slip away. “You, too,” was the safest response. It masks his yearning urge to be held akin to how it was before when he was a lot smaller for Yeonjun to collect and never let go. He expects Yeonjun to grant him the privilege to be left with his thoughts, but instead he sees the way Yeonjun studied his face. “Is everything okay, hyung?”

“Everything is perfect,” he said. “Let us know if you’ll be out this late again… Please.”

“Why?” Kai fought the urge to ask, anticipating an answer that probably doesn’t exist. But he settles with a silent exhale. “Okay,” he whispered. The silence is too loud for him to break.

There’s still so many things he wants to say, and he wasn’t sure if Yeonjun would grant him the luxury to be heard.

He’s not like Soobin who blatantly wears his heart in his sleeve, displaying all the emotion he harbors for Kai that it almost made him seem so vulnerable. Yeonjun was the person who took Kai in with open arms, literally. He called Kai ‘their person’ and made sure that any place in his presence was a place that Kai could share with him, too. It was as if Kai was never the catalyst of everything that Soobin claimed him to have caused.

Kai tries not to think about it, but he wonders if Yeonjun was scared that he’ll never return when he walks out the door today. He wonders if Yeonjun always feared that and is just so good at making sure he’ll never know.

He watches Yeonjun pull the curtains down before Kai nears the stairs; he wants to know how loud Yeonjun’s silence actually is.

Kai heads upstairs and doesn’t bother washing up before drifting away to sleep. Did Soobin wait for him too?

In his dreams, he wakes up with Soobin’s lips pressed against his forehead and Yeonjun’s arms ever so warmly wrapped around his waist. He dreams of the kisses he once grew accustomed to and the touch he’s now reaching out for. “Good morning, baby,” It was sweet, sweet Soobin who gave him one last kiss.

Waking up used to be like the sound of his favorite song on a warm day.

__________________

Instead of Soobin, a restless Beomgyu busted in from the door to greet him good morning. Although, he refuses to call it that when Beomgyu was tailed with a handful of filming crew and Chinhwa. Kai always thought that the house was big enough for three people, but it was definitely smaller now with how much they’re taking up all the space. The once distance from the kitchen to the living room suddenly looked invisible contrary to the vast space he remembers between Soobin and him on his first night.

Startled by their sudden appearance, Kai was as confused as ever. Yeonjun and Soobin are definitely going to kill him if they see this.

“What are you doing here?!” He was bewildered. Nobody said anything about filming at home, especially not at Yeonjun and Soobin’s house!

“It’s a house-arrest,” Chinhwa smiled as if everything was okay. “I didn’t know you moved to Ansan, Kai-nim.”

Kai couldn’t find it in him to return the enthusiasm. He held onto Beomgyu’s arm, not bothering to check who could hear before he spoke. “We can’t do this here. This is not my home! I didn’t even get permission from Yeonjun and Soobin.” He was in distress. Just earlier today Soobin wasn’t in the mood to talk to him—he could barely imagine his response once he found out about this.

“Oh, Kai, I’m sorry. I didn’t know about this either, but I think that was the point of the segment. T-They just asked me about your location and I was stupid enough to give it to them. I’m so sorry.” Kai melts upon witnessing Beomgyu’s state. He could barely breathe in panic and wouldn’t look Kai in the eye in shame.

Beomgyu was just as lost as he was. “Hyung.” He steps back. “What do I need to do?”

“W-Well, it’s an interview. They’ll ask about your routine and a small house tour- but I told them that the tour wasn’t possible. I-It’s okay.”

Kai forgot about how outrageous some producers can get. Only a few nights ago he promised Soobin to never touch anything without permission, but it’s out of his control right now when he’s basically broadcasting their humble abode without them even knowing.

The twist in his stomach kept getting worse. “Chinhwa, I really don’t appreciate you showing up like this unannounced.” He sought for the director. “It's just for a day, right?" Kai so consciously asked.

He cringed when he saw Chinhwa walking around like he's in a museum. “Oh, sure! If we get started now, we can probably finish by the afternoon."

Kai should have known better than to believe that.

The evening rolls and both Yeonjun and Soobin arrive an hour after the crew leaves. While Yeonjun hugged him tighter than usual, Soobin merely hummed to acknowledge his presence.

“How was work?" This was his attempt to strike a conversation. He watched as Soobin loosened his tie and Yeonjun made himself coffee, this was a routine. “I'm sorry for coming home late last night. I already apologized, but Soobin-hyung wasn't there when I did."

Soobin drops his hand, taking the tie along with it with an unpretty sound from the friction with his button up shirt. “It doesn't matter."

“Baby," Yeonjun scolds. Although directed at Soobin, Kai flushed as he perked up from the nickname. He hoped that the redness of his cheeks was gone just in time for Yeonjun's eyes to land in him. “Work was okay, Kai, but I'd rather be here the whole day than be stuck in that office."

“Why?" Kai was restless, but couldn't help smiling. Just a few days ago, Yeonjun wouldn't stop talking about a presentation he was quite fond of. Although they never talk about work in great detail, Kai could tell that they love what they do.

“Because you're here," Yeonjun responded like Kai was supposed to know that.

“You're funny, hyung." Kai's heart won't stop pounding against his chest. “Really." The beat is deafening.

How can he say that like he means it?

When Soobin starts cooking after freshening up and Yeonjun waltzing around without anything burdening his mind, it's so easy to pretend like everything is alright. Kai struggles to find the right time to tell them what just happened that morning, and a dark feeling of guilt settles in his stomach.

Kai knows them so well. They're nothing but good to him. He can see the disappointment on Yeonjun and Soobin’s faces, but they’ll tell him it's fine, because it was them and they’re always good.

But it's not what they deserve from Kai. Especially not from Kai.

Chinhwa returns the next day and the day after that, and it stresses and worries Kai beyond repair. He read the script over again, and he doesn't understand why this segment was taking too long. Paparazzi started to catch on, but they were easily shaken off by Chinhwa’s demand for confidentiality until its final announcement.

Yeonjun still hugs him tighter; Soobin still rarely meets his eyes. They both still don't know the situation Kai has put them through once again.

__________________

Beomgyu was restless as ever over the phone. “Kai, I corresponded with Chinhwa earlier, and I managed to get you the weekends off.” His voice was tense, mirroring the bustling noise of his busy background. It's Saturday—Beomgyu once mentioned a personal schedule a while ago, yet he's on the phone to attend to his self-chosen talent.

“So they were planning to keep it up for two more days?" Kai knows that it's not Beomgyu's fault. He'll probably regret his misplaced outburst, but all the negative emotions he locked in was getting harder to shake off. “Hyung, what the fuck is happening?"

“I don't know, Kai. I don't know."

“Why don't you know?" You're my Beomgyu-hyung. You're supposed to know everything. Kai finds it unfathomable that the person he looks up to is lost. Words just started making their way out of his mouth, “Hyung, can you pick me up first thing tomorrow?"

Beomgyu was silent as he pondered before finally saying, “Of course! My next photoshoot is scheduled in the evening, so I have all the time."

“Thank you, hyung. I'll call you back."

Kai hears a knock. And another. Then another. It's like he forgot how to move before he finally got control of his legs to open the door. “Yeonjun-hyung?"

“I heard whimpering?"

“Oh, did I wake you up?"

Yeonjun enters the room when Kai lets him. “No, it's not that. We were worried. Is everything okay?"

We? Soobin was probably included out of courtesy. Whether it's towards him or the other, Yeonjun remains the only bearer of that knowledge.

But still. “Hearing that makes me feel better.” He said it out loud, didn't he? He spots the fond questioning look on Yeonjun's face. “Where’s Soobin-hyung?”

“Pretending to sleep.” Yeonjun’s voice was soft like silk. Kai almost missed the tinge of jest in his tone, all because he sounded serious—all because he sounded honest. “He’s probably wondering why I’m taking too long to get back.”

Kai thinks that’s probably the case. “Oh, then you should go! You’ve been working all day. I don’t want to make Soobin-hyung think that I’m taking away your precious time to rest.”

“He wouldn't mind.” Yeonjun caught the doubtful look on Kai’s overshadowed face from the porch lights through the bedroom window. Kai was afraid of complete darkness, so they would leave it open all night.

“Please, hyung. Save me from his sassy remarks tomorrow.” Kai smiled. He knows that nothing will ever prevent him from being the receiving end of Soobin’s irritation, and he’s getting used to it now.

Yeonjun frowns. “You know he doesn't mean any of those,” he said. It draws such an ugly feeling to talk about the ordeal.

It leaves a bitter taste in Kai’s mouth. I know, I do know, Kai thought. But not meaning it doesn't make it any less susceptible to bleed some truth in his words and actions. Kai wouldn’t hold it against Soobin if he wished for Kai to cease existence from his life. “He doesn't need to tell me anything to know what he wants me to do.”

Yeonjun only called him several times. It failed to reach him. Instead he heard the steps Yeonjun took on the floorboard to finally get a hold of him. They came before the hands that delicately touched his cheeks, and it was silent again.

“Hyung, should I go back home?"

The look on Yeonjun's eyes changed. “What do you mean?" he asked, voice quiet but stern. Kai was certain he wouldn’t leave without getting an answer.

“I mean, I thought you'd find it funny how I randomly knocked on your door and live here.” Leaving Yeonjun standing with outstretched arms, Kai shrinks to sit on his bed. On the bed in Yeonjun and Soobin's guest room. It’s so easy to forget that nothing here was ever his. “All I have done is bring you trouble since then."

“That's not true.” Yeonjun walks closer. He wants to think that this would do something, anything, just to keep it in Kai’s mind. “You're always welcome here.”

“I know.”

Yeonjun’s voice trembled when he called for Kai again. It brings him tremendous hurt and discomfort to hear Kai say that he knows and still choose to leave. “Kai, having you near is everything I ever wanted,” he confessed, but he’s afraid of scaring Kai away. “But I won’t hold it against you. If that’s what you want, do I even stand a chance to change your mind?”

Stay. Please, stay.

“Can I be honest?”

“Always.”

“I actually came here because I didn’t know where else to go. There was a problem with my old label and they wouldn’t let me use my own songs for projects I had in plan. It’s just that everybody expects so much from me and won’t leave me alone that drives me away, hyung. I can’t even get to the front door of my house without constantly fighting off questions about my situation, and I don’t know what to say. So I ran away. Like a coward.” Kai lays everything on Yeonjun’s hand, giving him permission to do anything with it. “I didn’t even know you still lived here, hyung. I’m so selfish for coming back because I couldn’t face the consequences of the choice I made when I left you.” Yeonjun looks at him with wide eyes, sad and hurt and everything they’re not supposed to be.

“Oh, Kai.. nobody is blaming you for it, baby.”

“But it’s my fault, hyung. Can’t you be a little angry at me?” Kai folds his legs against his chest, desperate to find ease in the suffocating weight in his chest. “I don’t even have the decency to respect your personal space, hyung. Strangers have been here and it’s all my fault! There was a miscommunication with the documentary I agreed to do, and they found out I've been staying here. Shouldn’t you get angry that I filmed in your home without your permission?”

He wants Yeonjun mad and upset. He wants Yeonjun to be disappointed and appalled. The smallest trace of anger would be enough for him to think about the next time he sees Yeonjun again.

But Yeonjun merely comes closer with gritted teeth, eyes unchanging. This was not the anger Kai had in mind. “No.” Then he breathes. “The situation with filming can be settled later. Right now, I’m rather upset that you’re running away from this again.”

“What do you want me to do?” Kai asked in desperation. Something knots around his neck making it hard to breathe, and he slides his legs down to touch the floor to make it better. It terrifies him that whatever Yeonjun would say, he’s vulnerable enough to believe and follow.

“Apologize, Kai. Make it better.”

__________________

Memoirs often begin in countless profound ways. One that entails such a compelling journey that makes you believe that perhaps everything was just meant to be—that maybe an eminent end requires a momentous start. However, if Kai were to write a memoir of his life, he would opt to take creative liberties, because the catalyst of his noteworthy name was a simple train ride to university.

When he runs over to tell Yeonjun and Soobin, they were apprehensive at first. Past the fleeting celebration, Soobin was quick to be skeptical. “Are you sure it’s not a scheme for them to take you and skin you alive?”

Kai frowns. He had waited all day to get to them first, and he hoped for Soobin to be a little bit more indulgent to what he wants this to become.

He means well, Kai thought. That didn’t stop him though. “It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“I think it’s a great opportunity. They obviously scouted you for your good looks, but they’ll be blown away with your singing,” Yeonjun said, linking his arm with Kai.

Soobin pouts. “I’m still not convinced. Who scouts a stranger on a train when it’s something so significant?”

“How about this: we’ll figure out what this HYBE Labels is when we get home, and I’ll contact this number right after.” Kai grins. “But you’ll help me practice for the audition.”

In response, Soobin turns to walk away, so Yeonjun exerts his efforts to pull him back by the arm. “Come on, Binnie. Don’t you want a popstar boyfriend?”

Kai smiles. “You’ll hear my sappy love songs for you on the radio, and I’ll kiss you on live television.”

“My grandma and everyone’s mom seeing us kiss isn’t as good as you make it sound to be.” Soobin pouts. “And you’re thinking too far ahead. We don’t even know if it’s a legit entertainment company or if it’s a drug cartel.”

Oh, I hope it’s real, Kai prays. He grows eager that he escapes Yeonjun’s grasp to take hold of Soobin’s free arm. “But if it is, I’m totally showing off that I have two boys that kiss me goodnight.”

When Soobin opens his mouth for a remark that’ll probably bite, Kai raises his hand to intervene. “Fine. I won’t do that, but both of you are helping when we get home.”

“None of us have a say in this.” Soobin bites back a smile and Yeonjun doesn’t even try.

Kai accelerates in speed after detaching the only connection that holds the three of them together, and he stands before them declaring, “You’re my biggest fans. You have got to be there whether it’s real or a serial killer in disguise.”

__________________

It’s real. HYBE Labels was a growing agency in Seoul, recently transferring buildings after a few years since its establishment.

Kai watched Soobin and Yeonjun stuck together by the couch when he made the phone call, and they were hanging onto every word he said. He never actually planned it beyond what he can currently control. The adrenaline starts to dwindle when he somehow manages to accomplish two of the three things from his to-do list in one evening. What will he do after auditioning? What will happen if he doesn’t get accepted? What would happen if he did?

Kai thinks carefully because Soobin’s right. This is significant, and Kai can’t recklessly trust his spontaneous decisions any further than this.

But still, it’s just an audition. It’ll happen the week after his finals which doesn’t give him quite enough time to prepare the most captivating performance his family would’ve expected from him.

Yeonjun sees right through him from the instant he dropped his chin closer to his chest. “You’re a music prodigy, Hyuka. I don’t see why it worries you so much.”

“You think so?” Kai pouts and Yeonjun wipes it away.

“There’s no time for moping around, Kai-ah. Didn’t you beg me to help you practice?” Soobin turns to him with a smirk from the couch. He’s exaggerating, but Kai smiled nonetheless.

“I did not beg. But I should really slap some senses into myself. I don’t know how the whole thing is just freaking me out when I was taking so much pride from it earlier.”

Yeonjun, forever first to find a way to touch him, pulls him by the waist to settle him on his lap. The free space beside them on the couch is completely spared from its purpose. “Even the best people get nervous too, baby. We’ll be here every step of the way.”

“Every step?” Kai asked with wide eyes.

Soobin nods. “Every step.”

And every step they go.

__________________

Kai sighs.

He sighs again, but loud enough to finally get Soobin to care.

He rolls his head up to squeeze the tight muscles in his neck, then goes back to checking his emails. “What are the odds of me writing my email wrong?”

Soobin crawls to sit beside him on the floor. His laptop was plopped on a small table they purchased because the closest outlet in the room was across the bed—they make up for it by placing a cute pink carpet right under. “Never zero, but you won’t allow yourself to make that mistake.” He takes a page out of Kai’s book and sighs with all his might. “It’s the final audition, Kai-ah. I’m sure they have it automated by now.”

Kai was not oblivious to Soobin’s intent to make him feel better, and he leans down to kiss his face. “I really hope you’re right, hyung.”

“When was I not?” Soobin’s smile was assuring. “You need to get ready though, babe. Enrollment cuts off at three today and you won’t have time for it tomorrow when you pass the auditions.”

Oh, right, Kai had forgotten about that. Before he knew it, two months flew by and he’s no longer a freshman.

The time that passed was particularly tedious for the three of them. Soobin was training for a part-time job and Yeonjun was occupied with the commissions he needed to sew before the deadline—all of this while Kai was nervously attending his auditions in Seoul, a long drive away from Ansan, and both Yeonjun and Soobin felt strongly about keeping their promise to be there every step of the way.

Contrary to Kai’s initial felicity to be the object of his lovers’ dedication to be his greatest support, it was a choice they made against his best wishes. Soobin was busy enough and Yeonjun was barely home from work; it felt like a selfish act to need them there for something as futile as an audition when there’s already too much on their plate.

It never stopped them from coming though, Kai thought. They were as present as they were in his first audition to the final audition last week.

“Don’t you have work?” Kai wrapped his arms around Soobin’s shoulder in a way he could from where he sat beside him, and Soobin pulled him closer in nature.

He takes a leaf from Kai’s book and sighs. “Unfortunately. I don’t want to go.”

“But you have to! If Yeonjun-hyung finds out you skipped and I let you, he’ll kill us both.”

“Well, maybe I don’t actually not want to go and I just want a kiss from my lover.”

Kai giggles. “What even is the correlation?” he prodded, but still closed the gap between them in a single breath. Soobin takes what he wants and Kai gives him everything. Why won’t he when Soobin drew circles on his hips and kissed him like it’s the only good thing in this world? “You need to go.”

“Just one more.” Soobin frowns, chasing after his lips for a kiss that will definitely not only happen once.

“We know that’s not true.” He let his restraining arms fall to the floor and adored the way his Soobin rests his head on his shoulder with a single whine before letting go.

“I’m sorry Yeonjun-hyung and I are too busy today.” Soobin finally lets him go, but not without reluctance. “It’s supposed to be your special day.”

Kai hummed. “We have a lifetime's worth of birthdays to celebrate,” he said. “My birthday just started anyway. You’ll be home tonight, right?”

“Uh-huh. You?” Soobin knows the answer to that, but he doesn’t want this conversation to be over.

“I’ll be back before you do,” he said and finally gave Soobin the last kiss he was asking for.

This was usually the part where Kai starts to puzzle the pieces of foreshadowing and encounters a conclusion. Outcomes would’ve been constructed by his mind alone without much effort, because if there was anything that Kai was great at, it was to willingly put himself under scrutiny. But despite Kai’s meticulous job of overthinking, he was still left defenseless when things started going downhill.

He remembers sitting down to play the keyboard Yeonjun and Soobin gifted him on his birthday last month, and he was already in need of a new composition notebook. The sound of keys playing ricochets against the walls of their living room until Yeonjun comes home from university.

Kai quickly became the receiver of his lover’s questioning eyes. “I thought your last class on Tuesday ends at seven. It’s just —” Yeonjun checks his wrist watch, “Five.”

“I had dance class the whole day,” Kai said, nonchalantly.

“But training periods are supposed to be timed after your lectures, not during. We sent them a copy of your schedule as soon as you started.”

Kai closed his notebook with a pen in between before looking up to see Yeonjun’s figure standing in disarray from a long day. “I know, hyung. I’m sorry.”

“This is the third time you’ve done this without even letting us know.” Yeonjun was exasperated. “A semester is not too early to suspend you.”

“Would that be an issue? I mean, if I stopped?”

“No. Definitely not. I’ll always support your decision, Kai-ah. If training is getting too difficult for you to balance with your education, then it’s not regretful to stop.”

Kai had his lips pressed together as he let the weight of Yeonjun’s words sink in. He didn’t think Yeonjun would agree that fast. The situation had been out of Kai’s control and power to be competent in the double-life he chose to have—compromising isn’t enough. Kai’s best resort was to get his shit together and admit that it was difficult, even with all the ambition and passion he carries in his heart. He just hopes that he won't disappoint anyone in the process.

Yeonjun slowly made his way closer to Kai’s warm body and delicately placed a chaste kiss on his lips. He did it over and over. “So quiet, baby?”

“Hm, just thinking,” Kai managed to say, lips close enough with Yeonjun to feel an electric touch. “Been thinking about you and Soobin all day. I had to write it down.”

“Hyung wants to hear it.” Yeonjun grants Kai the luxury to breathe when he takes the smallest step back. “Let me listen. Please?”

Kai shakes his head. “Not today, hyungie.”

“Even just a little?” Yeonjun pouts.

“No. Wait until it’s finished.”

“Are you sure?”

Kai nods.

“I want to hear you play.”

“I can do that.”

Yeonjun gives him one of those desperate looks and Kai’s brain turns into mush. They both cramp by the keyboard and Kai starts playing a song that they have already heard before, but Yeonjun beams in happiness and wonder nonetheless. When Yeonjun showered him with kisses and whispered the silliest metaphors to convey his affection, Kai found a new love for him. For Soobin. For music. Kai takes his time to realize that it was never lost in the first place.

The next day, Kai submitted his withdrawal request, and was approved to drop out on Thursday.

__________________

Kai’s biggest fear of disappointing Yeonjun and Soobin happened before his very eyes when he did. “I didn’t think you were talking about your education, Kai.” He remembers Yeonjun whispering. Soobin looks at him with concluding eyes and says,“This decision is flawed. Why didn’t you talk to us first?”

“We just want the best for you.” He remembers feeling small as a mocking gap between him and his lovers starts materializing before his murky sight.

He saw Soobin, who drove him to his very first audition, give him a look that made him feel inadequate.“You should’ve known better.”

“Let’s not fight about this,” he pleaded. Over and over. Why won’t they listen? Their faith in his judgment was futile, Kai should have known.

“If you know everything, then why don’t you leave?”

__________________

Kai spent all night listening to the plethora of songs he released over the course of seven years. He wrote and composed every single one—the clumsy rhymes and the earnest words put together were from the tattered notebook he had lying around his island mansion. Every song was a relic of his life. All of it were his stories more honest than he’s been before.

To take it away from him is to deprive him of his whole life. How can I let this happen?

Kai sat up. The sunlight felt like they had pierced him straight at the eye when it entered the window of his room. It doesn’t compare to the throbbing of his head, a consequence for staying up all night. Whatever happened after his conversation with Yeonjun, he was unsure. The holes he left on the ceiling after boring his eyes at it endlessly did not leave him with many hints.

He quickly ran down the stairs, heart pounding, to exit the front door, and not bothering to check if it fully closed from the little force he applied with a push. Then sees Beomgyu waiting for him in the driveway. Regret washes over him when he remembered how cruel he was at Beomgyu last night—that’s anything but what he deserves—but he lets it go momentarily. He’ll make it up to him later.

“Kai-yah, I was about to call you —”

“Hyung.” His chest felt like it’s made of paper mache to cage the pounding of his heart. It’s not strong enough to keep it from bursting off the seams. “Hyung, I need to get my songs back.”

Beomgyu’s face shows a hint of bewilderment. This was the first time they’ve visited this topic this week, and it reduced Kai into a river of tears. “Oh, Kai, we will. We will one day.”

“No,” Kai shook his head.

Kai should have thought of this before. It was all up in the air, waiting for him to grab it and make it happen.

“Hush, Kai. You’ll wake your friends up,” Beomgyu held his face, catching tears Kai didn’t even know were running down his damp cheeks. Kai has forgotten that Yeonjun had asked him to stay, and it all comes crashing down to sobs.

He loves Yeonjun and Soobin. He never stopped loving them. He hears them in his songs, laced and hidden in words written by someone who thought would never come back to them again. They were present in his music and were with him every step of the way.

Every step.

Nobody can take it away from him.

“Oh, Kai-ah. Let’s get you in the car, okay?” Beomgyu attempts to move him near the car door, but it was all in vain. In a blink of an eye, Kai was taken out of his grasp and away.

Soobin’s large hand still found its way around Kai’s waist naturally, like it never left. “Where do you think you’re taking him?” His voice did nothing to hide that he just woke up.

“That’s not the way you’re supposed to treat Hyuka,” Beomgyu was agitated from a stranger’s unsolicited intervention. “I’m taking him home. Let go.”

“He lives here.” Soobin loosens the grip he had on a tearful Kai, but doesn’t lose the hold. How he got there without Kai and Beomgyu noticing was a mystery.

“Please, don’t fight. I asked Beomgyu-hyung to pick me up—he’s a friend.” Kai grew tired of sobbing.

Soobin covers his face to yawn, finally giving Kai the chance to stand on his own. He stares down on Beomgyu like a threat. “He doesn’t even have the decency to knock at our door.”

“I’d rather die than knock on any door at this hour,” Beomgyu said. The sun is barely up, but heat is prominent from his head.

“We're talking inside." It wasn't a suggestion; Soobin will make sure it happens. He tugged on Kai's damp wrist from the ushered tears, and spared Beomgyu one last look. “That includes you, Beomju."

“It's Beomgyu."

This was probably the most Kai heard Soobin spoke without intending to spark a fight. At least, not a fight with him. Soobin had a talent to provoke anger, but it’s a bit lost this early in the morning.

The next time Soobin spoke, they were in the living room with a descending Yeonjun from the stairs. Ever dramatic, Beomgyu gasped, “Yeonjun-nim!" His light feet running towards a new familiar face. Soobin and Kai were left clueless in one of the couches with a few leather tears scratching the exposed skin on Kai’s arm. The itch was ignored as Yeonjun quickly engulfed Beomgyu in a tight embrace.

“You know him?" Soobin asked. Kai wondered why when he didn't wait for Yeonjun to answer anyway. “It doesn't matter. I don't tolerate strangers driving in my yard."

Beomgyu whips his head in Soobin's direction. “My tires don't even touch your grass!"

“Can we all calm down? It's a big misunderstanding," Kai finally makes an attempt to intervene. “Beomgyu-hyung is here because of me. So please, don't be mean. It's my fault for not telling you in advance."

Yeonjun approached him at a distance that felt just right, instinctively inviting Kai to his feet. “Beomgyu is no stranger. He's a regular model for my brand. I thought Soobin would know." Obviously, that was not the case. “That doesn’t explain why you’re up meeting Beomgyu so early.”

“So, this is what it is?” Soobin was thinking too much. Kai was barely done putting together an appropriate response, but he was deprived of the chance to let anybody hear it. “You’re leaving again.”

“Soobin,” Yeonjun was still the first to speak right after. Not exactly reprimanding, but a clear reminder to have care in his words.

Heart strings were tugged violently when Soobin finally decided to give Kai the opportunity to unsully his intentions. It wasn’t even a question; it was an accusation. While Kai respects the privacy behind Yeonjun and Soobin’s door, he could surmise things they exclusively shared about him the night prior. He is not to blame them for thinking of the worst, but he at least hoped that they knew he’d treat their sentiments with utmost significance.

Yeonjun asked him to stay. Why wouldn’t he? Most importantly, such an outburst was least expected of Soobin when he didn’t even want Kai to be here in the first place.

“I can’t stay forever.” Kai settled with this instead. “The film crew will keep insisting on filming here, so I need to change that one way or another.”

Soobin leaned back at the couch, an arm stretching out over Kai’s abandoned place at the couch, making himself seem larger with a strange lack of intimidating factor. “You’ve done it behind our backs multiple times. Why change your mind now?”

Yeonjun has had enough. “Soobin, please. It was a fault in the management. We talked about this.”

Upon hearing that, Beomgyu shrinks, but makes himself known. “Ah, that would be me. I apologize for the intrusion. The director had a way of getting what he wanted, so it was difficult for me to fix the issue. I’m sorry, Yeonjun-nim… Soojin-nim.”

“It’s not fair to put this all on you, hyung. You did so much for me already.” Kai chose to ignore Beomgyu’s intentional mistake, and instead sat on the couch again. “But I’m gonna need to contact Chinhwa, and maybe somebody else.”

“Chinhwa is the director,” Beomgyu supplied when Yeonjun and Soobin simply exchanged looks from the unacquainted name. “Who else are we calling?”

“Taehyun.” Kai dismissed the look of a bewildered ‘really?’ on Beomgyu’s face. Instead, he searched for Soobin and Yeonjun’s eyes before bringing clarity. “I’m not leaving, but I have to visit my house to settle things. I’m not exactly sure if this will play out the way I have it planned in my head though. We just have to try.”

The mention of Beomgyu’s favorite place got him excited. He smiles, “We need to go.” He dashed out towards his car, unaware of the favor he did for Soobin for finally feeling the relief of not having a loud stranger in his house.

It didn’t go unnoticed as Kai easily fell into a fit of giggles. Eventful was an understatement. He never would have thought that he'd start the morning with the three most important people in his life when he spent the night thinking that it would never end. It brought him a sense of contentment, just enough to remind him what he’s yet to accomplish.

“Thank you for this morning,” Kai said. “It’s the best one I have had in seven years.”

Kai wasn’t sure if he had the right to feel happy after being the catalyst of his own agony. Maybe it wasn’t even fair to feel Soobin’s arm slowly being draped around him as seconds go by, and maybe he was undeserving of Yeonjun’s caring eyes on him from his stand. But he lets himself have this. For just this moment.

Yeonjun crouched down to match Kai and Soobin’s height. Yeonjun’s knees were covered with his silk pants, but Kai felt warm when they touched his own. “What are you going to do, Kai-ah?”

“I’m gonna make it better, hyung,” Kai said. “Like you said.”

They don’t have to worry about the inevitability of Kai’s return. It will be the day he stops running away. It will be the day he tells them about his trip out the door earlier today—what he thought, how he felt.

___________________

“You’re in love with them.” Beomgyu dropped the nonchalant act, and grew the guts to lay it all out for Kai to hear. His hands are on the steering wheel, his eyes are on the road, but he left pieces of his mind in Ansan when it blew over the situation. “Oh my god,” He kept repeating blasphemously.

“I think I should drive this time,” Kai insisted. He almost ran a red light from the distractions swarming in his head. Kai didn’t take Beomgyu to be so invested over rekindled flames when he always skipped over the love songs Kai wrote.

Beomgyu was stubborn. “You’re in love with them, Kai,” he continues, “And they’re in love with you!”

“I’m calling Taehyun,” Kai said, cowardly hiding behind his words than to actually think about what he wants the most. He troubled Yeonjun and Soobin enough—the most he can do is to protect them from the issue. “I need his help for security. Paparazzis are probably off my back by now, but I’m not risking anyone’s safety.”

“About that.” A mischievous tone caught the sound of Beomgyu’s voice. Maybe sleepless nights and tiresome days were not for nothing. “I may have already sent guards at the island house.”

“What about —”

“And I’m sending guards over at Ansan,” he said, like it was just the most logical thing to do.

A wave of appreciation washed over Kai. With Beomgyu acting like this, Kai felt worse about how Soobin treated him earlier. He loved Beomgyu dearly, in profound ways he can never explain. He’s the only good thing about the place under the spotlight. If there’s anyone he owes a song to, Beomgyu deserved a 10-minute medley of all the things Kai wanted to tell him, but can’t.

“Thank you, hyung.”

Beomgyu merely beams, unaware of the overwhelming feeling in Kai’s pounding chest. “What else are we gonna do?”

So, Kai laid down the plan.

The must rule to conquer the cutthroat music industry: get a good lawyer. If that doesn’t work, fuck around and find out.

____________________

Here’s Why Huening Kai is Re-Releasing His Old Albums | Time Magazine
Dec 5 — Why is Kai re-recording his old albums? It’s all about business.

Huening Kai’s Re-Recording Explained
Dec 13 — Kai revealed that he would be re-recording his first 5 studio albums in order to gain total control and ownership over his past work.

Huening Kai albums discography | Wikipedia
The Korean-American singer-songwriter Huening Kai has released 6 original studio albums, 1 re-recorded album, 4 extended plays (EP), 2 full-length albums, and 1 live album.

Huening Kai’s Re-Recording Plan Has Worked Perfectly
Jan 3 — Kai is in the middle of a years-long effort that sees him re-recording his first 5 albums and releasing them to the public under a slightly different title.

The Impact of Huening Kai’s Re-recording Project on Record Labels
Feb 5 — Kai, for example, is able to re-record his albums without violating copyright because he owns the copyright for the musical composition. After his master recordings were sold without his consent, his goal in re-recording was to reclaim ownership of his music and devalue the original master.

____________________

Kai rediscovers his passion and love for his artistry not long after re-releasing his previous albums. Under his name, his music is no longer collateral damage of the scathing feud in his history. Instead, it celebrates. Because Kai is an artist—he lays his heart bare for everyone who would listen, and he’s so damn good at it.

“A week.” Suddenly, Kai heard Soobin’s voice behind him. “I haven’t seen you in a week, Kai.”

After the first wave of distribution and promotions, Kai is once again hogged up in his studio, finding joy in producing and writing. Days and days passed since the last time he stepped out in the sun, lost in the world of music and endless creativity. Nevertheless, he answers to Soobin’s call, swivelling in his producer’s chair and drinking in everything about Soobin in front of him. Pouting, sweater engulfing his figure, and head tilted like a little kid. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Why? Doing something I shouldn’t see?” The bite in Soobin’s tone never left, but him seeking Kai out by himself must mean something. Winter was just about over, yet Kai still saw bits of snow atop Soobin’s head when he sat on the couch.

“Of course not, hyung! I’d love for you to come by as often as you can.” There is not a world where Kai would deny Soobin of his presence. Being with Soobin is more of a luxury to Kai than it will ever be for Soobin. “I’ve been working on my new album, and contacting previous collaborations. I also just recently hired a manager!”

The silence lingered, it almost started a ringing in Kai’s ear. Soobin takes his time before speaking, clearing his throat or adjusting his position on the singer’s new couch. His actions are unreadable, but he pondered more than usual when he said, “Good. Your documentary’s coming out soon.”

“Oh, that. I almost forgot. I did my last interview a month ago. I —” Kai stopped himself from apologizing. He doesn’t want to talk about an issue Soobin settled when it mattered. “I wonder if it’s different.”

“The music?”

Kai shakes his head. He wants to say a thousand things and nothing all at the same time. The music was one thing, the documentary itself was another. Chinhwa sent him flowers over the success of his re-release—thanks to the new records, Chinhwa doesn’t have to think about royalties. A part of Kai still holds ill feelings for the documentary process, but it’s water down the bridge. Soobin and Yeonjun made peace with it, and that’s the most important thing to consider. “Me, you, us? Everything changed so quickly. I can barely recognize myself sometimes.”

“You can’t change that fast, Kai-yah.”

“Hm?” Kai was taken aback from the change of heart. Once upon a time, Soobin was sure that time can change people, it can change Kai. Apparently, there’s an applied limit. “You wouldn’t be here if nothing changed, hyung.”

Soobin’s hair is longer. His face is a lot softer. He looks at Kai a little more kinder. Kai can compare Soobin’s discernible differences. He can almost attest having a shelf displaying all the versions of Soobin he’s seen in his mind, because he has them all memorized. It’s moments when Kai takes his sweet time to study every inch of the Soobin before him—shamelessly.

“I wouldn’t be here if you just came home.” Soobin rolled his eyes. Dread somewhat noticeable in his tone.

“This is my home,” Kai said, drawing an invisible circle with his finger. His studio was meticulously built within the comfort of his island mansion, Beomgyu’s favorite estate. It was recently renovated to piece together equipment and soundproofing.

Soobin’s lips twitched. If Kai wasn’t paying attention, he’d miss it. Unfortunately, Kai was too absorbed in his own orbit of self-pity that he lost the implication. “Fine. I’m leaving.”

To that, Kai reacted. “Wait, hyung! Already? Don’t you want something to drink or eat? I have leftover cake from Taehyun last night.”

“Last night? He was here?” Soobin stood, towering over everything in the room. Kai was compelled to stand up and match his height, albeit missing a few inches.

“He helped with some instruments.” Kai shrugged. “He congratulated me with cake. It’s really good —”

“Kai,” Soobin interrupted. It’s unbelievable that Kai keeps acting so ignorant over something that’s been boiling over. “Kai, please. How much longer do I have to wait for you? Eight? Ten years? Will you even come back at all?”

“What?” Wrong. That’s not what Kai wanted to say. Soobin’s honesty is overwhelming, triggering resurfacing complex emotions he thought he lost a few months ago, but Kai wants to take it. He wants to hold it in his hands, and understand it through and through.

But the mind is faster than words. Soobin was exasperated, and Kai wants to fix it.

“Yeonjun-hyung told me to be patient—to wait—because it had to be you who wanted this. It has to be you who wants this, Kai-yah. I can drive to Seoul every single day if it means seeing you, but you have to want me. Come back to me.”

How did they get this far? All things piled up in Soobin’s chest that he inevitably breaks, and Kai is left to be on the receiving end. I did this, he thinks. Soobin’s bleary demeanor is attributed to his selfishness. It was Kai who walked out of his life, it was Kai who forced his way back, and it was Kai who left again when he’s no longer needed. “I’m right here. I’m here, hyung. I’m not running away.”

“Are you really?”

Kai doesn’t know what to make out of Soobin’s red cheeks and shaky voice. He doesn’t know what to make out of Soobin’s lips on his, or Soobin’s eager hands clawing at his sweater. It felt right to have Soobin so near, fitting perfectly in the spaces between his lips, and tasting like songs about honey, flowers, and sweets. How Kai survived years without this is a mystery, but now that he has it back, it’ll kill him to lose it again.

“Please,” Kai begged. “Trust me.”

Soobin said something to Kai.

Kai said it back.

____________________

Kai wakes up with Soobin’s lips against his forehead and Yeonjun’s arms ever so warmly wrapped around his waist. Yeonjun kissed him delicately and almost lazily, the same way Kai dreamed of nights and nights before. “Good morning, baby,” Yeonjun muttered in his ear, tickled by the slight stubble rubbing against his skin, but Soobin stubbornly held him still.

“Do you remember when I tumbled across the hallway and almost fell down the stairs one morning?” Kai mumbled, half asleep. Yet, he’s so sure of every word he’s saying as long as his lovers pay attention. “I thought that I was so stupid to not realize that I was still in love with you.”

“Oh really?” Kai laughed over Yeonjun’s naughty attempt to bite his ear. “You’re never getting off of this bed.”

“I have no plans of leaving anyway.”

Waking up is like the sound of his favorite song on a warm day.

____________________

“A message to myself in the future.. Hm. Kai? If you’re watching this documentary, are you finally happy?”