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love flies (but your love is the highest)

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It was another one of Jongwoon’s concerts: he was a big name now, big. This wasn’t one of his high school concerts where he was sixteen and just singing for fun—though for him, every time he sang it was fun. Now he was singing for money, for fame, for fortune, and he loved it.

He wasn’t one of those types of celebrities who really looked to fans for support, although they were always nice. Jongwoon liked singing for himself, and himself first, really. As he screamed into his microphone, the audience went wild and Jongwoon raised his arms up and enjoyed this, basked in the moment—the crowd cheering, the feeling of being invincible.

It was when he put his arms back down and continued his song when his eyes caught the gaze of someone in the audience. Now, Jongwoon wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight—or in love at all; he was in love with singing, really. But there was a member in the audience, a boy, who had his dark gaze fixed on Jongwoon and Jongwoon couldn’t quite read it. Jongwoon didn’t stumble over his words as he sang, no—not even the mysterious eyes of a random stranger could distract him. But he no longer felt focused on his singing; even as he tore his eyes away, he couldn’t get the gaze of that stranger out of his head.

Was that a fan? Or was that just some member of the audience that Jongwoon happened to see, someone who meant nothing? That happened to Jongwoon sometimes—he would just happen to see someone who would make him think a little more than usual, and that was one of the things that Jongwoon hated about himself, that he thought. He wanted to concentrate on his singing, but at the same time, he was constantly curious about everything else—about the different songs he could write, the different beats he could practice, the different ranges he could extend to, the different styles he could try.

(He tried ballads once, but decided that was too boring.)

Fans always said that Jongwoon was good, no matter what, but Jongwoon had seen what critics had said about him before, that his true talent lay in punk rock. Which Jongwoon was totally fine with, because punk rock just happened to be his favorite. And as long as both what he was best at was also his favorite, then he didn’t really have anything to worry about. It was just the desire to try and do new things that sometimes caused Jongwoon to trip up and go on the wrong track: the desire to think and explore.

The concert ended like they all did, with two encores and then Jongwoon wandering backstage at about one thirty at night. Fans and paparazzi crowded around him, of course, as they always did—Jongwoon didn’t know how they could have such energy, he was beat—but still he regarded him with the charm that he always did.

And then he saw the kid again. Well. Jongwoon addressed him as a “kid” in his mind because he looked so young, but his gaze was mature and Jongwoon could tell that there was definitely nothing innocent about him. And then, completely embarrassed at this thought, Jongwoon quickly ducked his head behind his hand from reporters and fans asking him to sign their albums and breasts (oh god, he hated it when that happened) and tried to wander off to his tour bus.

Most of them went away, but when Jongwoon lifted his head up, he saw that the kid was still there. He was the only one, actually, and he was looking at Jongwoon with such expectancy that Jongwoon felt compelled to stop for him. So he did.

“My name’s Kyuhyun,” was how the kid introduced himself. “And I’m your biggest fan.”

Jongwoon would say, later, that he recovered quickly (although it actually took him a full minute to shake himself out of shock.) “Uh,” he said to this kid—Kyuhyun. “Look, a lot of people say that they’re my biggest fans, and that’s great, but—”

“Can I come into your tour bus with you?”

The thing that amazed Jongwoon about Kyuhyun was that Kyuhyun didn’t act overly excited—well, excited at all—or happy, or was screaming, or was crying, or looked like he was about to pee his pants, or anything. He just stood there and talked to Jongwoon as if they were discussing the weather. Which was a cliche, but Jongwoon was a rock star, so everything about his life was cliche.

“Um,” he said to Kyuhyun. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a fan—”

“Your biggest fan.”

“I doubt it,” said Jongwoon, and then made to brush past him. “I’ve heard twenty people say that to me, and one of them was actually just a news reporter in disguise, so—”

What happened next was something that Jongwoon didn’t expect. Because, well, Kyuhyun was a guy, and Jongwoon was a guy, so like—If either of them was a girl, it would have been expected, really—

—but Kyuhyun grabbed his wrist and kissed him. Which, you know. Didn’t usually happen to Jongwoon, being kissed by random guys. By random fans, yes, and occasionally by random strangers (Jongwoon wouldn’t deny it, he was hot.) But never by random fans or strangers who happened to be guys.

“What—” started Jongwoon, but Kyuhyun just looked him in the eye. Jongwoon was aware that Kyuhyun was still holding him by the wrist, but couldn’t find it in himself to let go.

“I’m your biggest fan,” said Kyuhyun, for what had to be the tenth time at least. “I also know you’re gay.”

“What—No, I am not! Get off of me!” Jongwoon pulled his hand back and did his best to look scandalized. “Where the hell are my bodyguards? Why are you assaulting me? What—?”

“Your bodyguards are in your tour bus, like usual,” said Kyuhyun, rolling his eyes. “And I don’t know what you’re making a big deal out of this. I know you’re gay. I’m gay. I’m your fan. I sort of want to have sex with you. And I’m not ugly, right?” He gestured to his body, and Jongwoon just had to think, No, you’re not.

“You,” he said, backing toward his tour bus and pointing at Kyuhyun, “are a creepy kid, kid.” Kyuhyun wasn’t following him now, which was a relief.

“I’m twenty!” Kyuhyun called back to him as Jongwoon retreated back to his bus.

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

But when Jongwoon climbed back onto his bus and thought of Kyuhyun, he knew it didn’t—because no matter what age Kyuhyun was, Jongwoon suddenly felt like he was totally, utterly fucked.


Jongwoon had no idea how Kyuhyun did it, but he did. For the rest of his concerts from then on, Kyuhyun somehow made sure that Jongwoon would spot him in the audience, even though Jongwoon swore seeing Kyuhyun never tripped him up. Never. Not even once. Okay, maybe that one time in Changhung, but—Kyuhyun must have been a master stalker or something. Well, Kyuhyun never waited outside of his tour bus or house for him to wake up. But at every one of the concerts that Jongwoon loved performing at, Kyuhyun was always there.

It was in Gwangju when Jongwoon decided to go out, disguised—the place where he was going, no one would care to recognize him, anyways. He told his bodyguards and such that he was going to a bar, and even though they recommended that he should bring someone with him, Jongwoon shook his head—both because even though he had a band, he liked being alone; and also because he doubted that any of his friends would want to be where he was going.

He approached the building and flashed his ID—the bouncer’s eyes probably widened, but Jongwoon brushed past him, adjusting his sunglasses even though it was eleven at night. He wanted to make an anonymous entrance, but he wanted to look good doing it. Rainbow lights were flashing everywhere, and Jongwoon sighed, a little, under his breath. This was good—he could feel like home here.

He never did anything in these gay bars, but he just felt comfortable: men and women like him, dancing and singing their way into the night. Jongwoon mostly just sat and drank, made out with a man once (he was pretty sure it was his old classmate, Lee Sungmin, most popular guy in school). But Jongwoon liked enjoying life as life was.

He reached the bar and ordered a glass of Cafri: he wanted something light to start off this evening.

In hindsight, he supposed he should have ordered something a bit heavier.

“Fancy meeting you here,” said a voice next to him suddenly, and wouldn’t fate know it, there was that kid Kyuhyun sitting at the stool next to him. There wasn’t a drink in front of him, so Jongwoon knew that he had just gotten here.

Jongwoon narrowed his eyes. “Are you seriously following me everywhere?”

“No, actually, my friend recommended this place to me. Said that I should come if I ever visited Gwangju.” Kyuhyun smiled—and Jongwoon hated to admit it—brilliantly. “So I was right about the gay thing, wasn’t I?”

Jongwoon didn’t answer. He just glared at the bar table and drank. Deeply.

“Do you visit gay bars often? Maybe I should,” said Kyuhyun thoughtfully.

Jongwoon slammed his drink down and turned to Kyuhyun.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is, kid—”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” asked Kyuhyun.

“Because you’re my dongsaeng. You should be calling me hyung.” Jongwoon sneered, though he felt ugly while doing it. “And you said you were my biggest fan, right? Why aren’t you wetting your pants at talking to me, meeting me twice? Why aren’t you all excited and squealing like a little girl? I bet you just want to make fun of me, or something.” He scowled and turned back to his drink, feeling shittier than before.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly he was looking into Kyuhyun’s eyes again.

“I have loved every song you’ve come out with,” Kyuhyun said to him. “Every one. Including that ballad you released, on your second album, track four. I thought it was beautiful. I’ve always liked the songs you’ve written more than the songs that your managers make you sing. I even liked the song that you sang for the soda CFs, and also for the two Taiwanese dramas and four Korean dramas that you sang for. I’ve known you were a great singer since you were in high school, ever since my friend who went to your high school brought me to one of your concerts, and I fell completely in love with you. I will love every song you will write, everything you will try, because I know you’ll be brilliant at it.”

Jongwoon couldn’t speak.

The first thing he said after two minutes was: “What was the name of your friend?”

“Donghae,” said Kyuhyun, and Jongwoon recalled him faintly—he was the last kid that got covered with shit, Jongwoon knew, even though he’d already become semi-famous by the time that happened.

“And,” said Jongwoon, wrenching his shoulder out of Kyuhyun’s grasp; he felt so hot, all of a sudden. “I’m really not that great. Really.”

“Really, you are,” said Kyuhyun. “You’re amazing. You’re ridiculous with some of the concepts you’ve tried before—the three trot songs made me laugh—but you still sound and look amazing when you do them.”

“I liked the trot songs,” said Jongwoon defensively, because he did. They were fun to record and perform.

“I know,” said Kyuhyun. He was smiling now. “I could tell. Still made me laugh.”

“And you’re totally and completely creepy, did you know that?”

“Just dedicated. Number one fan, remember?” Kyuhyun wiggled his finger. “I need to keep the title above all your other ‘number one fans.’“

Jongwoon laughed, and suddenly didn’t think he minded Kyuhyun’s presence anymore.

“That, you do.”


They stumbled into the back alley, kissing furiously. Three hours and several drinks later, and this was the kind of situation Jongwoon found himself getting into.

“You really meant it when you said you were twenty, right?” he managed to gasp in between kisses. “Otherwise I don’t want to feel like a pedophile.”

Kyuhyun chuckled against his skin. Jongwoon could feel the outline of his lips. “That’s completely your fault—you’re the one who kept calling me kid.”

Jongwoon laughed too, but it was immediately covered by Kyuhyun’s lips. God, Kyuhyun’s lips, Jongwoon thought he might have an obsession with them now. And Kyuhyun’s eyes. You know, Jongwoon should just become Kyuhyun’s number one fan too, and this whole thing would be mutual.

“This is really—I don’t want to stop,” Jongwoon breathed out when they broke apart for air again. “But this isn’t exactly—comfortable—”

“Your tour bus, or my hotel room?” said Kyuhyun.

Jongwoon grinned. “I’ve been wanting to see where you’ve been staying while you’ve been stalking me.”

The hotel, as it turned out, was actually quite nice—”My dad basically owns a university, so,” explained Kyuhyun. Jongwoon didn’t let himself admire the aesthetics though, because the moment they made it beyond the lobby and into the elevator, Kyuhyun sloppily banged one of the elevator buttons, but Jongwoon didn’t see what number because Kyuhyun immediately started kissing his neck again.

God, Kyuhyun,” Jongwoon moaned as Kyuhyun’s lips moved against his skin, onto his collarbone, biting and sucking and licking. Jongwoon also liked Kyuhyun’s tongue a lot. And probably other parts of his body, once the time came for him to see them.

Kyuhyun didn’t stop kissing until the elevator dinged to their floor, and even then Kyuhyun pulled him by the hand and rubbed up against him as he led them to his hotel room. “Here,” he said, pulling out his key card and fumbling with it: one quick swipe and the door buzzed open, and Kyuhyun pulled them in.

Kyuhyun shut the door and then pounced on Jongwoon, making Jongwoon giggle as he fell onto the bed with Kyuhyun on top of him. “Fuck, we’re so drunk,” he said as Kyuhyun started working on his neck again, his hands already creeping onto Jongwoon’s stomach and making Jongwoon’s back arch.

“I’m not gonna regret this in the morning, though,” Kyuhyun murmured, breathing against his cheek and placing little kisses there.

Jongwoon closed his eyes, smiled as he felt Kyuhyun’s fingers brush up against his nipples. “Neither am I,” he whispered, and his mouth was attacked by a series of violent kisses from Kyuhyun.

Kyuhyun’s hands were slowly creeping up to take Jongwoon’s shirt off, though that didn’t seem to be the final destination—he was stroking Jongwoon’s belly, playing around with his abs like they were the first he ever felt, and then brushed a finger over Jongwoon’s nipple. One, and then the other. And then he was pinching and Jongwoon’s mouth was open without abandon and he was needing, needing Kyuhyun more than anything in the world—and god, he really was drunk, wasn’t he.

Kyuhyun’s hands slipped lower, and he made to touch Jongwoon’s erection (which may have happened sometime in the bar, probably)—but Jongwoon didn’t let him, and instead flipped Kyuhyun over so that he was on his back. He saw Kyuhyun panting and breathless underneath him—the lights were on, so he could see Kyuhyun’s hair pointing messily in all directions, and Kyuhyun’s face was slightly red, and Jongwoon wanted him.

“God, you’re so hot,” said Jongwoon, straddling Kyuhyun’s waist.

Kyuhyun chuckled as Jongwoon started to unbutton his trousers. “Do you say that to all the fans you bring home?”

Jongwoon smiled and leaned over to kiss Kyuhyun on the nose—though he didn’t really know why, it just felt like the right thing to do. “Yep,” he said, knowing that Kyuhyun would understand that he was the only fan he ever brought home.

Getting their clothes off took only moments, and finding lotion was easy because it was already right there on the beside, and then Kyuhyun was moaning as Jongwoon stroked him off, slipped his finger past his foreskin and against the slit. “God—fuck—Jongwoon hyung,” he gasped, and Jongwoon quite enjoyed the word “hyung” coming off of Kyuhyun’s tongue. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you doing this,” said Kyuhyun, eyes darker than ever. “No idea.”

“As my biggest fan, I think I have an idea,” said Jongwoon with a smirk, and then he twisted and tugged and Kyuhyun was gasping as he came onto Jongwoon’s hand. Some got onto his clothes, but Jongwoon didn’t care—Kyuhyun seemed satisfied enough, and in seconds Jongwoon found his own trousers being pulled down and Kyuhyun leaning over to rub him off, too.

“I’ve imagined doing this to you, too,” Kyuhyun was saying as he grabbed the base of Jongwoon’s cock—Jongwoon yelped and thrust himself into Kyuhyun’s hand, a little pathetically. “You look wonderful, by the way,” said Kyuhyun, smiling and rubbing Jongwoon. Then he was bending down and Jongwoon didn’t know what he should have seen coming, but—oh dear god jesus Kyuhyun had pushed him back and was now sucking on him, wet and hot and fuck, and Jongwoon humped his back against the mattress and felt himself climax all into Kyuhyun’s mouth.

“Quick,” said Kyuhyun, grinning—Jongwoon wasn’t letting him get away with this.

“You said you’re gay,” he said, crawling back up so that they were sitting practically cross-legged to each other—with both their pants off (they’d been too lazy to take off their shirts), everything was in full view to each other. “Have you ever had gay sex before?”

“Not—well, I know how it works,” said Kyuhyun.

“Good,” said Jongwoon. He grabbed at the lotion again and squirted some on his hand, and then gave it to Kyuhyun. “‘Cause I’m really in the mood for that right now.”

Kyuhyun looked shocked. “Jongwoon—are you sure you want to do this, Jongwoon hyung?”

“Kyuhyun, I’m fucking horny and I’m a fucking celebrity and you’re my fucking biggest fan so you better do what I want you to do,” said Jongwoon, bordering on a growl. “Yes, I want this, unless you’re complaining.”

Kyuhyun pounced on him then, and then kissed him roughly into the sheets. “I’m not complaining at all,” he said, and then started lotioning himself up.

Jongwoon fucked him with his ass, riding Kyuhyun’s sweet cock—it was difficult at first, positioning himself and trying to concentrate while staring at Kyuhyun’s face, while Kyuhyun was panting and whimpering a little the more Jongwoon sank down on him. Jongwoon propped himself on his arms from behind, and god that hurt, but it was totally worth it when he started thrusting his hips up and down and Kyuhyun was moaning and moaning and then, oh god, Jongwoon was moaning too, feeling Kyuhyun so hot and big inside of him and he pulled at his cock and Kyuhyun was watching and Kyuhyun came before he did, leaving himself wet inside Jongwoon—but then Jongwoon came too and it didn’t matter, with his come splashed all over their chests.

“Fuck,” said Jongwoon, lying on top of Kyuhyun when they were all done, feeling sticky both inside and out. “I don’t know if I can go back to my tour bus like this.”

“You could stay overnight, if you want,” offered Kyuhyun.

As painfully tempting as that offer was, Jongwoon shook his head and started to unstick himself from Kyuhyun. “No, my bodyguards’ll be looking for me by four in the morning at latest,” he said. “I usually get back by two, but—” He checked his watch. “Well, I’ve still a bit of time.”

“Shower then?” said Kyuhyun, and Jongwoon smirked. And they both proceeded to have one of the longest showers Jongwoon had ever had.


The next time Kyuhyun came up to him after a concert, Jongwoon didn’t try to shove him away, or insist that he wasn’t gay—instead, he took him out behind the building, not even near the tour bus, and kissed him and Kyuhyun beamed.

“Perfect,” said Kyuhyun. “As always, you were perfect.”

Jongwoon kissed him again, feeling light-headed and bubbly. “Only because of you,” he said. “My favorite fan.”