A swipe of his tongue against Gyu-hyuk’s lips made him shudder, and kissing them drew out a sound that people would be aghast to hear from Bstars’ latest sweetheart. Or perhaps the fans would enjoy learning their bias was pure in all manner of meaning. It was so easy nudging those broad shoulders back against the headboard, to trail kisses down his neck and yank open a perfectly tight button-down so he could finally get his hands underneath. Gyu-hyuk’s muscles locked up under the calloused fingers gliding all over them, his breath hitching from what must’ve been a ticklish sensation. And his eyes remained firmly shut. Do-yoon could tell him that doing that would only make him more sensitive, but Do-yoon preferred his mouth to be busy elsewhere.
When did it start, again? It must have been after auditions, where the pool of hopefuls dwindled down to a couple dozen. Faces and names more easily ingrained themselves in Do-yoon’s memory so that he could finally attach them to the music they produced. Yes, that’s when Lee Gyu-hyuk caught his eye. Rather, the disconnect between his modest figure and a voice that was decidedly not. Do-yoon resolved then to pay more attention.
He mentioned Gyu-hyuk to his bandmates. That was a mistake. Showing any interest in something other than Masquerade, let alone someone looking like a worn-out examinee, was all the fodder they needed to pick apart Do-yoon’s brain for more. He liked his voice, Do-yoon said. Was that all he liked, they asked.
The next day brought him sore hips and Tae-hee’s stupid laugh ringing in his ears. His neck itched with Woosuk’s bite marks under the concealer, particularly when the offender himself strode up as he left the dressing room.
“Missed a spot,” he whispered, drumming his fingers across Do-yoon’s nape. Do-yoon couldn’t decide whether to smack his hand or that smirk off his face, but let himself be pulled in for a kiss.
Gyu-hyuk saw. He was impressed with the timing of the coincidence, and exponentially curious at the flushed ears of his fellow contestant as he shuffled past them into the dressing room. Woosuk snerked before dragging Do-yoon by the shoulders to leave. Do-yoon recalled looking back, once.
The competition continued. Most contenders improved, but Gyu-hyuk soared through the ranks and internet popularity. The Gyu-hyuk on camera radiated such charm and sex appeal that it shone that much brighter a light on his unpresuming manner during downtime. Making that observation helped Do-yoon notice how much he’d been watching. So he went beyond polite conversation. Like any average person, Gyu-hyuk’s eyes wandered, not knowing where to look between his long hair, contacts, and piercings. But they always returned straight forward. It was cute. He’d probably blush again if he knew what else Do-yoon had pierced.
“Is he really that good?” Iksun chuckled over his shoulder while Do-yoon watched a clip of yesterday’s mission on his phone that featured Gyu-hyuk. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last. “Gonna sleep with the competition?”
His eyes tracked the man’s practiced movements on the screen as he pondered the joke.
“Our Do-yoon’s going soft,” came Ju-yong’s mellow tone from the opposite side. He rested a hand atop Do-yoon’s head and looked on from his ample height. “Hmm. All gussied up and he’s still not as pretty as you.”
“I said I like his voice.”
“Better than Woosuk?”
“Now that you mention it, their speaking voices are awfully similar,” Iksun added.
Everyone glanced over at their vocalist mid-sip of a drink, who quickly gave it up in favor of scowling.
“I didn’t say anything...”
He may as well have. Woosuk didn’t go easy on him that night. Maybe he really was going soft, since he liked it anyway. But each night with the band fed his imagination, to see Gyu-hyuk on top of him instead. Would he be greedy like Woosuk and Tae-hee? Pamper him like Ju-yong? Wholly uninterested in men like Iksun? Do-yoon pondered. No...he was interested. It was simple enough to tell now that Do-yoon was looking. It seemed Gyu-hyuk didn’t know what to do about it, though. That’d be easy to fix.
Gyu-hyuk didn’t know why he was here. No, he knew, but he didn’t know why he chose to stay. Dozens of entertainers filled the ranks of Buried Stars’ latest line-up. Dancers, established musicians, former idols—Gyu-hyuk didn’t fit the mold. Every day he questioned why the public kept voting him in. Then he remembered he was his father’s son.
More surprising was the fact that he’d made friends. That was too generous a word, but acquaintances didn’t quite describe the people he saw daily. There was Juyoung, a once-idol even he recognized and one of the few contestants older than him. Hyesung, a young man terribly interested in Gyu-hyuk’s rank rather than Gyu-hyuk himself—a fact he figured out after a few weeks. And...Do-yoon. A man with actual hopes and aspirations invested into the competition.
Not many people looked like Do-yoon, with his red eyes peeking through a curtain of hair and a face littered with jewelry. His pride took a hit when he remembered how he judged Do-yoon the first time he caught a glimpse during auditions. He and his mates resembled a pack of delinquents ready to bully their way to the top. Do-yoon’s perpetual frown helped nothing. So Gyu-hyuk reflected on why, one day, when Do-yoon happened to sit near him during lunch, he had aimlessly asked if his lip piercing didn’t get in the way of eating. He wanted to pry his tongue out with his chopsticks, but dropped them instead when Do-yoon laughed. That wasn’t the first question most people thought to ask, he said. How can someone be so beautiful when they smile, Gyu-hyuk wondered.
Do-yoon liked men. Or so he presumed when he caught him kissing one of his bandmates. He wish he hadn’t. He had to remind himself that Do-yoon was an adult, and a normal one at that. Most people do a lot more than kissing at that age. Gyu-hyuk was the weird one.
As the competition advanced, so did Gyu-hyuk’s relationships. A bright young lady named Inha introduced a burst of motivation to smile more. To be social and pleasant. To be human. It skyrocketed his place in the contest and earned some rare praise from Producer Shin herself. With that praise came an expectation to keep it up. So he did. Observing the others helped it along. Inha and Hyesung were vibrant and lively, in both good and bad ways. Juyoung carried a maturity he envied and an elegance that nearly compelled him to bend the knee. And Do-yoon was kind. Quiet, clever, prone to misunderstandings due to his poker face, but...kind. There was a reason that, despite his band’s fluctuating place in the polls, Do-yoon himself maintained popularity. It relieved him to know Do-yoon would remain in the competition for a little longer.
It was when he started having dreams that resulted in cold morning showers that Gyu-hyuk realized he had a problem. Someone may as well have plucked his eyes out and popped in new ones, with the way he caught himself looking at Do-yoon now. He thought about the hickeys his makeup didn’t quite cover. Days when his lips were a little swollen. The comfort with which his bandmates touched him—tying up his hair, slinging an arm over his shoulders, an idle hand around his waist... Their vocalist caught him staring once. Gyu-hyuk couldn’t maintain eye contact. His dreams were the most his imagination could muster of the things they must do with Do-yoon, to Do-yoon, behind closed doors. He wished he didn’t think of Do-yoon like that. He knew nothing of that world. He wished he could learn.
“Doyoon-ah, let me do your hair.”
“Sure, thank you.”
Juyoung’s style and voice put her leagues above the rest, and became the leash on Do-yoon’s neck that drew him to her. It didn’t help that she was beautiful beyond question, though he was sure she’d heard enough of that. Having her hands in his hair from time to time was a privilege he indulged in. When she delightfully revealed his cute new up-do, he almost said she was cuter. He liked their current rapport, and was learned enough not to proposition a former idol. Frankly, he’d fancy her doing the leading. For better or worse, she stood the exact opposite of Gyu-hyuk. Do-yoon had no trouble entertaining certain mental images of his hyung.
He wanted to touch Gyu-hyuk. Normally, he’d just do it. Most accepted his invitation. His bandmates always did. But a delicate approach had its own appeal. Iksun encouraged it, knowing it would rile up little Tae-hee and most especially Woosuk, but lamented he couldn’t watch like usual. Pervert. Do-yoon would take a bullet for him.
“Go for it. When are you ever gonna see him again after the competition?”
Fair point. They lead such different lives that never would have crossed paths without Bstars. No measure of modesty erased Gyu-hyuk’s place as heir to his father, a gold star singer drowning in prestige even after his death. He entranced fans with the clean cut of his figure and a face equal parts innocent and rakish. That was his character to play constructed by Producer Shin, but surely part of it came from Gyu-hyuk himself. Tailored suits and some hair wax combined with that voice—Gyu-hyuk deserved every bit of his popularity.
Off camera, though, he grew pleasant. Approachable. He wore a warm smile or a worried little pout like he was everyone’s big brother. He had some strange habits, such as rationing his food like he wouldn’t get to eat the next day, or insisting on flannel and thick-rimmed glasses. But in the end, he was an affluent man set to find success after Bstars no matter the results. Do-yoon mulled over that prim and proper prince going red at the sight of two people kissing, and felt that giving into his urges may not be such a bad idea after all.
One day during lunch, Gyu-hyuk greeted him with the usual smile and a ‘Doyoon-ah’ like his name was the sweetest word in existence. He tore that smile to pieces when his fingers slipped into Gyu-hyuk’s sleeve under the table. The buttons unclasped with a dexterity that made Gyu-hyuk freeze, allowing Do-yoon to do as he pleased at ever so slow a pace. While the others ate and conversed, he traced over the flushed skin, the quickening pulse, each fold of his palm. One day he’d have to ask how these stupidly long fingers of a rich boy got so calloused. He didn’t pull away even when someone asked why Gyu-hyuk had stopped eating. Destroying his focus with such an innocuous little thing satisfied Do-yoon more than the meal.
Kissing Gyu-hyuk came easy. It was shoving him up against a wall and unbuckling his belt that surprised them both. But Do-yoon kept going. He tried to be gentle, but that charming squeak when Gyu-hyuk felt his tongue piercing fueled his hands to move of their own accord. One gripped Gyu-hyuk’s hair while the other planted unabashedly against his crotch, and he silenced any objection with a deeper kiss. He applied enough pressure so that Gyu-hyuk could escape if he wanted to, but made ‘wanting’ difficult. The warmth tempted Do-yoon to stay there and keep kneading the bulk underneath, but he needed more, to feel Gyu-hyuk tremble. So he spat into his hand and drove it down his trousers, and drank up the low groan rumbling against his lips. Now more than ever he understood his friends’ penchant for ignoring themselves in favor of watching Do-yoon come undone in their hands. It was an appetite easily sated.
Nothing more than panicked, hitched breaths left Gyu-hyuk’s lips as Do-yoon alternated between savoring them without remorse and giving him a lungful of air. Gyu-hyuk used Do-yoon’s shoulders as an anchor to ride out the pleasure. His mouth laid open, stuttering over words he couldn’t speak. Do-yoon helped him out with another kiss, swirled their tongues together again in a wet mess. His hand only stopped when Gyu-hyuk grabbed it in a fit of overstimulation. He almost kept going, but remembered he wasn’t playing with himself. Instead he waited for Gyu-hyuk to catch his breath. Then he cleaned up, tucked Gyu-hyuk back in, and pecked the corner of his drooling lips before leaving.
He was losing his mind. He had to be. Why, when he was the one having vulgar dreams, was Do-yoon coming onto him? They’d gone so quickly from flirty touches to handjobs that Gyu-hyuk believed his entire time at Buried Stars to be a hallucination. That he’d wake up back in his rundown apartment, surviving an empty routine with no time or desire to touch someone else. Now he was here, primped up every day and having someone as beautiful, talented, and thoughtful as Han Do-yoon chase him. Why? Why did he pull Gyu-hyuk into this madness?
His stomach tightened from remembering Do-yoon’s warmth. But there was peace in his presence, too. Gyu-hyuk liked being with him. He hated that he liked it, because one day it would disappear.
“Doyoon-ah, g-good morning.”
Forcing himself to make eye contact, Gyu-hyuk smiled when Do-yoon leaned against the wall beside him. In the short reprieve before the day got busy, Do-yoon broke the silence first.
“Did I make you uncomfortable yesterday?”
“I—no. No,” Gyu-hyuk said without thinking. He should’ve thought. A large lump slid down his throat before he found his voice again, but his mouth fell open with nothing coming out. Do-yoon watched, then inclined his head in that really, really cute way.
That was all the warning Gyu-hyuk got before getting pulled into an empty dressing room during lunch and nudged against the door with a gentleness he may have appreciated, were it not for the audible click of the lock. Then every sound drowned under Do-yoon’s lips on his. His gut churned in anticipation—no, no, he couldn’t let himself look forward to this—
An unfastening zipper preceded Do-yoon falling to his knees and Gyu-hyuk’s heart leaping into his esophagus.
“Doyoo—!” He sputtered the rest incoherently as his hands lurched to Do-yoon’s wrists, but they were shaken off as easily as Do-yoon digging into his fly.
“I know you showered,” Do-yoon said. “Though I wouldn't have minded if you didn’t,” he added in a whisper. Gyu-hyuk’s brain stalled entirely after that. Everything narrowed to the filthy sounds of Do-yoon’s mouth on him. He couldn’t look, couldn’t bear the shame and thrill and nausea all at once. But not once did he try stopping it. No, the piece of trash he was allowed Do-yoon to make him feel good. There was no mess, and Do-yoon didn’t kiss him again. The image of Do-yoon licking his lips burned into his memory so deeply that he threw up an hour later.
“You gonna fuck him or not?”
“Your hyung,” Woosuk punctuated with a harsh thrust, pushing Do-yoon’s cheek further into the dorm carpet. The hand between his shoulderblades let up enough so he could glance up through his tousled hair. Geez, and he kept going on about how he didn’t care who Do-yoon slept with. He already shared him. Well, Woosuk wouldn’t be Woosuk if he wasn’t a fucking brat.
Do-yoon stretched his back in hopes that Woosuk would shut up and focus. He choked out a content breath, but Woosuk simply yanked Do-yoon upright. Arms wrapped around his chest and neck before Woosuk finally got back to work, and then he choked for real.
“We’re not good enough? You’re so desperate you’ll go after fresh meat?”
He truly didn’t understand how Woosuk could be jealous when he was the one inside Do-yoon right now. No, they were all on edge with the semi-finals around the corner. It was why he had to suffer Woosuk tonight while the others kept to themselves. He hadn’t touched Gyu-hyuk in days. And just when he was in the mood for Ju-yong’s coddling, too—
Woosuk pounded him like he’d forgotten Do-yoon didn’t fancy idle talk during sex. He managed to shake his head before gasping over the arm dug into his neck. That didn’t satisfy Woosuk, but when did it ever?
“Maybe you agreed to this fucking pageant show so you could whore yourself out. Huh? Is that it, Doyoon-ah?”
It fucking wasn’t but he moaned anyway. Woosuk and his stupid voice, low and smooth and so much like Gyu-hyuk’s even though he called his name ten times more sweetly—
He came too easily for Woosuk’s tastes, and was shoved back down into the carpet to repent for thinking of someone else. Not that he would, and Woosuk knew it. Indeed, his mind flooded with the image of Gyu-hyuk smiling with those tender, drooping eyes all while he talked down to him. He nearly whined with need, and let Woosuk give it to him. It did the job, for now.
The smile he wanted from Gyu-hyuk the next morning paled under the concern stitched into his brow. Do-yoon’s quick glance distracted Gyu-hyuk with the finesse of his lashes rising and falling, but he pulled himself together long enough to tug Do-yoon’s collar, revealing more of a bandage.
“Are you hurt? What happened?”
That freaking voice. It wasn’t even particularly deep, but had a timbre that ticked all the right boxes for Do-yoon. He liked it even more muddied with worry, all for him.
“Ahh... Got bit a little too hard.” He sucked at lying, and the truth was worth seeing Gyu-hyuk’s hand snap back in embarrassment. He was thinking about it. What must’ve happened last night, the state Do-yoon was in, whose hands he was pinned under. Do-yoon wondered when Gyu-hyuk would start imagining those hands as his own. Maybe he already has.
“Hey, hyung. This Sunday is our last night off before the semi-finals next week, right? Do you have plans?”
“Yeah. No?” Gyu-hyuk answered dumbly.
“I’m free too. Can you swing by my room before curfew?”
“...Yeah. Of course.”
He could tell Gyu-hyuk’s mind didn’t comprehend a word he said. He smiled anyway, because that always urged Gyu-hyuk back to his usual self who spoiled Do-yoon and clung to him at the same time. To think a few hours in hair and makeup would transform him into the dapper rich kid he should be. But Do-yoon found himself growing partial to those thick glasses and cheap flannel shirts.
Some distant memory of deciding this time for sure to take it slow disintegrated from Do-yoon’s mind while his body busied itself with grinding against Gyu-hyuk’s thigh. His satisfied hum turned into one of frustration that rumbled against Gyu-hyuk’s lips when he got pushed back.
“Doyoon-ah, please, I don’t, I-I’ve never—” Gyu-hyuk managed to croak out after the distinct clink of his belt unbuckling.
“Hyung.” Gyu-hyuk stilled at the whine in his voice. “I know. I’ll take care of you. Promise.”
He left Gyu-hyuk’s unbuttoned shirt on and flung the belt a little too hard to the side. Then he pulled off his t-shirt and chucked that too, and chuckled once at an utterly bewildered Gyu-hyuk gawking at his tattooed torso and the piercings through his nipples and belly button.
“You can play with them later,” he said before diving back in. All the composure he’d practiced til now vanished like a fleeting thought. Now, he was pent-up. And Gyu-hyuk was just so...so nice. Something sat there, something more Do-yoon craved beyond his talent or body. He’d think about it later, because right now, he would take this nice man’s virginity.
Hot breaths and messy, wet smacks resounded in their ears as Do-yoon pried open Gyu-hyuk’s mouth. And for the first time, Gyu-hyuk treated him back. He rolled his tongue against Do-yoon’s, explored every inch, prodded the piercing every so often before retreating for a proper kiss. Temptation eventually got to him, though, and he drove himself back in. He was only a little bad at it. Do-yoon couldn’t remember a better kiss.
He peeked at the pretty way Gyu-hyuk’s brow drew up in concentration, and endeavored to break it with an indecent thrust against his thigh. One became two, three. Do-yoon broke the kiss to focus, only for Gyu-hyuk to chase after him. He pecked clumsily at his lips, calling Do-yoon’s name in a voice choked on whatever emotion rose up in his throat to clog it. Knocking their foreheads together, Do-yoon took pity and tore themselves both free from their pants. Gyu-hyuk flinched, then groaned at the new level of friction before shutting his eyes like earlier. A smirk split across Do-yoon’s face.
“Hyung, look,” he breathed. “You’re so much bigger.”
He relished the startled flutter of Gyu-hyuk’s lashes and rewarded his bravery with a smooch on the cheek. Able to concentrate only on the twist of his hand around them after that, Do-yoon stopped caring about taking things too quickly. He had wanted to put on a show for Gyu-hyuk, tease him, impress him. But whatever. There would be a next time.
Gyu-hyuk finished first, and Do-yoon stared at his hand with mixed feelings. He ached to lick it clean, to clean Gyu-hyuk up, to have his head held down until he got every last drop. Instead, after shimmying out of his jeans and fetching lube and condoms from under the pillow (all to Gyu-hyuk’s mortification), Do-yoon threw his hand toward his ass.
“Gimme...a sec,” he muttered as he braced himself against Gyu-hyuk. It was a quiet inhale that clued Gyu-hyuk in, and helped him notice Do-yoon only opened the lube later. Do-yoon didn’t see his jaw go slack or his gaze fix on Do-yoon’s flexing wrist, but he made sure to watch that handsome face when he finally grabbed Gyu-hyuk to line himself up.
As Gyu-hyuk scrambled for purchase, Do-yoon reveled the fullness in his gut. But every so often he had to pause, thighs trembling from the stimulation. They’d barely started and he was seriously going to come. Through dazed eyes he spied Gyu-hyuk, enduring with an effortful scowl as he watched Do-yoon bounce in his lap. His lips shining with spit would part with each breath, and occasionally his eyes met Do-yoon’s—then scrunched up like that alone felt better than the tight heat. And it felt good for Do-yoon too, to the point of being too much. Because it was Gyu-hyuk?
Damn, who was the real virgin here? Who cares. Do-yoon nuzzled into his neck and slammed down with a desperate moan that rang louder than Gyu-hyuk’s.
Do-yoon was under him. Squirming, panting, curling his fingers in his long messy hair to see Gyu-hyuk better. His white skin, the subtle rise of his muscles, a chest peppered with ink and steel—all of it mesmerized him. How was it that for being the same height, Do-yoon looked so much smaller? Every inch of him fit perfectly in Gyu-hyuk’s hands, putty to be molded however he liked. And Do-yoon encouraged him to do so, in every manner Gyu-hyuk could think up. Insisting Gyu-hyuk, in all his fumbling, wouldn’t hurt him a bit. That even if he did, Do-yoon would like that too.
It scared him. Every touch, every flicker of Do-yoon’s glassy eyes, each scrape of his nails across Gyu-hyuk’s hips to drive him deeper. When he’d hum low in his throat, breathed in deep, or sighed over the knuckles grazing his teeth. Even that scared him, that Do-yoon might bite them and draw blood. But when he tried pulling them away, Do-yoon only took his hand as a replacement. With the same enthusiasm he put toward their kisses, he sucked and savored the long, rugged fingers like nothing could arouse him more.
Do-yoon was quiet even in bed. That made the sounds he did make more special. Like being with Gyu-hyuk was special. As a man simply following Do-yoon’s lead, what must he look like? He had his bandmates, after all. He still hadn’t found an answer for why Do-yoon chased him this far. Or why he let Do-yoon catch up.
“Gyu-hyuk hyung...does it hurt?”
His lips quivered at the feeling of Do-yoon’s thumb nudging the corner of his wet eyes. The hand so gently holding his cheek made him swallow back a sob. It felt too good. Do-yoon was too good for him. Do-yoon, who had a path in life and the determination to take it, had people who loved him, wasn’t suffocating under the grip of a ghost.
“No...” He let Do-yoon pull him down for their noses to brush together. Yes, he always let it happen. He kept up this facade of a gracious gentleman for Bstars, so he could do it for Do-yoon. As warm arms wrapped around his back, he mouthed the fading bite mark above Do-yoon’s clavicle. Indulgence wasn’t a feeling he knew well. But if Do-yoon could teach him how to use his hips, to run his tongue over his sensitive chest, to yank his hair just he way he liked it—
Do-yoon jerked with an uninhibited moan when he sank his teeth deep into his neck. His breathless whisper for more, more, more ran through Gyu-hyuk’s body like electricity. He’d learn to give it, and take as much as he wanted in return.
At Do-yoon’s insistence that Gyu-hyuk only stop when he exhausted himself, they kept going until well after midnight. By three o’clock, Do-yoon successfully managed not to fall asleep in the shower. Bstars made his lack of exercise famous among the contestants, so he couldn’t help the ambivalence from being scolded by Gyu-hyuk, the fittest one among them. He flipped that around right quick by saying he preferred it when his partner wore him out like a used toy. Gyu-hyuk’s sputtering never got old.
The next hour passed in leisure conversation. They lounged on the bed together and spoke of silly, simple things, like Do-yoon promising to replace the shirt he’d accidentally ripped, or Gyu-hyuk apologizing for the bites. His tattoos and piercings came up, and going just a little red, Gyu-hyuk still worried if the more sensitive areas hurt. Do-yoon opted against revealing he forewent one particular piercing that night.
They talked about the sex for as long as Gyu-hyuk’s nerves lasted. Then they chatted about the other contestants for a bit, where his praise for Juyoung turned into an unwitting admission of his crush and a rare bout of shyness for Gyu-hyuk to get a kick out of. He then explained the understanding he had with his band. As they laid down facing each other, Gyu-hyuk fell into silence.
“So, are we...not dating?”
He really fell for the cute ones, huh? Instead of answering, Do-yoon considered it. Dating Gyu-hyuk... Was that okay? A famous singer’s son with the bassist of some random indie band? Relationships were hard enough already. His friends would tease him to the ends of the earth if it ever happened, and then probably take him to bed in spite of it.
“I wouldn’t mind it,” he eventually murmured. “But let’s wait until the competition is over. So that no matter what happens, we’ll have something to look forward to.”
Completely charmed by Do-yoon’s faint smile, Gyu-hyuk could only mumble in affirmation.
“Doyoon-ah... Thank you.”
He shook his head as if to dismiss the question, so Do-yoon accepted that under the fog of fatigue. Against the heavy weight on his eyelids, he spied Gyu-hyuk shuffle closer. The next time he blinked, thick arms trapped him under a gaze laden with intent.
“Can I touch you again?”
He asked so hesitantly, shameful of his desire. But those eyes spoke to the fact that even if Do-yoon said no, Gyu-hyuk would get his way. A sudden, rampant possessiveness—that alone woke Do-yoon up.
His body craned to the fingers hooking into his underwear. The thought of waking to Gyu-hyuk at his side every so often was a pleasant one indeed. Would a day come when that shyness in his voice matched the appetite with which his lips latched onto Do-yoon’s neck? When he found time to contemplate that ‘something more’ in Gyu-hyuk he pined for, he’d think about this too.
After the show, then.