Tag and Release (for w_anderingheart)

[critcapmods.livejournal.com]

For: w_anderingheart
From: mutantbic

Title: Tag and Release
Rating: PG-13
Side Pairing/s: Hinted future Sehun/Xiumin
Length: 8000 words
Summary: A brash young street rat CHEN! meets their idol SUHO under unusual circumstances and doesn’t recognise them.
Warnings: some graffiti slang, crime- past and present sometimes underage, drug use mentions, swearing, lewd behaviour, unimaginative aliases and exo ‘in-jokes’.

Notes: My dearest recipient: Thank you for this lovely prompt. It made a whole garden grow in my mind. I hope that I’m able to convey even a fraction of this universe with my small skill. There’s so much more here and I hope you don’t mind that I went a bit ‘epilogue’ after the main Chen/Suho was done. You said no PWP so I kept it out of the bedroom but there is more I can add. Thank you to the patient Mods: you are great. I can’t even tell you. I’m sorry I’m so bad at summaries…

Jongdae sways with the motion of the carriage. His headphones blast Sehun’s latest creation and he finds that it’s not that bad. There’s less of the crunching and grinding that characterised his friend’s foray into dubstep and more intricate melody layered over the top of throbbing bass. It’s more mellow but also more nuanced, subtle. It feels like the baby is growing up. Next to him, Yixing bounces on the balls of his feet listening to his own music. The black fabric of his hoody obscures his face in a way that reminds Jongdae of Darth Sidious. It makes Jongdae crack up a little because nothing could be further from describing his friend’s personality. Yixing catches Jongdae staring and quirks an eyebrow. He tosses his head back under the fluorescent lighting and flashes a grin and a wink as they step off the tram and onto the street together. It’s not long before they arrive at the spot they had scouted earlier in the week. Each of them had planned out their portion of the piece and collaborated so that their styles blended and complemented each other. “You ready?” Jongdae asks. “Yeah,” Yixing replies. He lets the agitator slip around inside the can with a hiss as he regards the freshly painted wall of the alley. “Lucky we spotted this so soon after it got buffed, huh?” Jongdae drops his backpack and pulls out his face mask. “You mean since we were practically babysitting this spot?” Yixing shoots back, wry look and cocky stance telling Jongdae that his friend knows he’s not as low-key about this as he thinks he is. “What? And you aren’t excited about making this our gallery?” Jongdae and Yixing have been looking for just the right spot to showcase their work: their very own gallery. It had to be somewhere private but also somewhere easily discovered by anyone looking. This alley is just off a well trafficked street so anyone looking would notice their work just inside. If they paint quickly, they should be done before anyone notices. It had just recently been painted over, the previous graffiti scene cleared away by an obliging city council worker. Hopefully, by starting their work just after the city had sanitised the alley, it would give them the maximum amount of time to fill the alley with their graffiti and turn it into their gallery. “When is Sehunnie showing up?” Yixing asks. His words are muffled by the bandanna wrapped around his face. He concentrates on laying down the outline. “Maybe an hour or so?” Jongdae answers, getting started himself. Their friend likes to film himself skating, dancing, eating, or pretty much anything. He edits the video and backs it with the music he makes before posting it on his ‘aesthetic’ blog. He has a crushing number of subscribers, most of whom seem to be thirsty teens who have nothing better to do than break the internet every time he posts a shirtless dance practice. The last glimpse of ‘sweatpants dick’ resulted in comments so explicit, they were able to make even pragmatic Jongdae blush. “Fam-ous!” Yixing makes his eyes wide and sings falsetto before they both laugh and get on with the job. Sehun arrives as expected and goes about filming a few passes of them with his night vision, cap backwards and skateboard strapped to his backpack. Between Jongdae’s stencils and Yixing’s style of dripping and blending, the end result is something they are fairly certain hasn’t been done before. “Flippin’ brilliant,” Sehun whistles. He manages to make not swearing some kind of counter-culture. Jongdae doesn’t know if it’s cute or pretentious. Maybe it’s both. “I’ll be back during the day to get some shots in the light,” he announces and the older boys nod as they pack up. The three of them part ways with a round of back clapping hugs. Sehun rolls off on his board in one direction and the other two head the other way. The Pigs are more likely to stop them if they head home by public transport so they amble off to get a late night feed and wash up in a public restroom. Yixing in particular manages to come away caked in paint because he blends with his hands. “You look like a circus came all over you,” Jongdae teases. “Do you want me to buy you food or not?” Yixing laughs right back at him. They pour turpentine on their hands and rub at the paint until their skin is pink. Then they demolish the burgers and chips as soon as the meals are placed if front of them. ^v^ The milk foam sits delicately atop the drinks delivered to Joonmyun and Chanyeol’s table. The waitress smiles politely at Chanyeol’s flirtatious advances before moving off to deliver the next order. He watches her back and sighs. “I see you haven’t lost your touch,” Joonmyun observes as he hides his smirk behind his drink. “I don’t see you even trying.” Chanyeol slumps before raising his own mug to take a sip. Joonmyun doesn’t reply except to raise his eyebrows in a ‘fair enough’ gesture. This is how much of their meetings are spent lately. They deal with the business they have quickly and use the rest of their time to catch up and trade wry observations about the other’s life. Chanyeol isn’t just another client of Joonmyun’s Moonlight Art Gallery. It’s quite possible that the mismatched pair have become friends. Both Joonmyun and his childhood friend Minseok have been accepted into the upper echelons of society in no small part thanks to Chanyeol and his friend Kyungsoo. Chanyeol stretches his long legs out beneath the small outdoor table. He looks out onto the street for a moment and the pair is silent. “But seriously Joonmyun,” Chanyeol begins, tone reserved now. “You really are spending too much time at the Gallery. I know you three! It’s your baby. And you know how much I appreciate your diligence and expertise. Hell, you’ve been able to cover two regional offices and my headquarters with the art you’ve found. That’s not even going into my private collection.” Chanyeol holds up a hand when Joonmyun begins to protest. “I appreciate it, I really do. But isn’t it time to play? Spend some of that wealth on some pretty little thing?” Joonmyun waits, the look of amusement never leaving his face. Chanyeol is always chasing someone to warm his bed and presumably this is what he wants for his favourite art dealer as well. “Don’t tell me you have another blind date for me?” Joonmyun sighs. Maybe Kyungsoo or Minseok will call to save him with some emergency at the Gallery. “What if I did?” Chanyeol counters, just to be contrary. “Do you?” “Well, no,” Chanyeol admits. “But I could, just let me check.” The tall man reaches into his breast pocket for his reading glasses and unlocks his phone. Joonmyun shakes his head, ignoring his friend and continues to busy himself with his coffee. “It’s a crime, Hyung,” Chanyeol starts as his pointer swipes across his screen. “You are what? 35 now? Isn’t it time? Haven’t you made enough money?” “You make me sound decrepit,” Joonmyun says. Chanyeol’s idea of a suitable blind date is some slip of a girl, barely into her 20’s, wide eyed and sighing ‘Oppa’. In short, Chanyeol’s type and likely a girl that he had dated and couldn’t shake loose. “Anyway, I told you to stop setting me up with your castoffs. If you can’t get rid of them, then don’t start dating them in the first place.” Chanyeol removes his glasses to look shocked that Joonmyun would say something so ungrateful and scandalous. “How long have we known each other?” he huffs. “Eight years,” Joonmyun answers and adjusts his own spectacles. Here we go, he thinks. “Yes, eight years.” Chanyeol pauses for effect. Joonmyun waits patiently. He has heard this before. “And in all that time haven’t I always been a good client and loving dongsaeng?” Joonmyun thinks this is going a little far but he nods in acquiescence. He makes a mental note to write a strongly worded email to his secretary Kyungsoo for ever introducing Chanyeol in the first place. “Haven’t you profited from my business and everyone else that Kyungsoo has brought to your gallery? I remember when it was two rooms painted white in the worst end of the best street. Wasn’t it just after you moved from that hole down town?” Chanyeol has turned out to be a bored young plutocrats who spent their days making money faster than they could spend it and their nights diverted by the newest and shiniest. It was one of the great mysteries of his existence why Chanyeol with his hipster mentality had chosen to stick with Joonmyun since their introduction some eight years ago. “Yes, Chanyeol.” Joonmyun knows where this is going. He doesn’t have to listen to the rest to know that Chanyeol will remind him that his success is built on the fortuitous unravelling of Kyungsoo’s wealthy childhood contacts. Being in the right place at the right time has certainly treated Joonmyun well. If he hadn’t met Kyungsoo then things could easily have turned out very differently for him. “Honestly Hyung, I just want you to be happy,” Chanyeol continues. Joonmyun is just about to give in and allow himself to be set up on another tedious date when a blur in a dark tracksuit barrels towards their table. The teenage fugitive is trailing behind three police officers all red faced and puffing while the boy hardly breaks a sweat. Wild eyes lock with Joonmyun’s and the art dealer’s heart rate picks up. A feral grin flashes to reveal straight white teeth and Joonmyun receives a cheeky wink for his attention. The disruption passes as quickly as it came and Joonmyun is left to listen to the thudding of his heart in his ears. The rush of adrenalin makes him blink and rub his shaking hands on his suit pants. “Well, that was quite enough excitement for me. Can I walk you back to the gallery?” Chanyeol slots his phone and his wallet back into his pocket and rises from the table. Neither the blind date nor the excitement of the delinquent chase leaves an impression on Chanyeol. It’s not quite that easy for Joonmyun to forget. ^v^ Joonmyun lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling from beneath clean sheets in his comfortable and painfully fashionable loft and tries to find sleep. It eludes him and his thoughts snag on the jagged edges of the past. He recalls the time when a younger version of himself was the one running from the cops. Teenage Joonmyun probably had the same look of deranged pleasure as that teenager from this afternoon. He certainly remembers thinking it was fun, almost getting caught. Older Joonmyun now knows that it would most certainly not have been fun if he actually had been caught. It might have added to his notoriety but it would have also added to his woes. It would have made owning the gallery and becoming an upstanding citizen more challenging for certain. The past rolls around in Joonmyun’s mind until it’s clear he’s not getting any closer to falling asleep like this. He’s too keyed up, too full of memory to relax. There’s also that Cheshire grin and saucy wink to taunt him. Ten minutes later he has his jogging gear on and is pulling his front door closed behind him. Joonmyun’s regular jogging route takes him past some places that graffiti artists like to hang out and tag. It’s not an accident. It’s probably not the safest or well-lit route but it lets him see who’s out and about, who’s tagging or doing throw-ups, and who’s improving. The local kids are accustomed to the weird jogging Ajusshi who sometimes pays them for info about who’s writing. Lately he’s had his eye on a few writers of different types. Writers are what aerosol artists are called these days. There’s ‘Galaxy’; their black and white stick figures and unrecognisable animals are so consistently rendered that it must be their style or some commentary on the innocence of childhood. There is no other reason that anyone could be so prolific, with absolutely no sign of evolving in their art. Joonmyun concludes that they must be experienced and set in their ways. It’s intriguing and like a car wreck, Joonmyun finds himself noticing every monochrome Galaxy piece despite his better judgement. Then there’s two artists who keep popping up together. It’s happening so often that it can’t be a coincidence. They must be in the same crew. Their tags read CHEN! and lay. Artistically, it’s clear that lay is the senior partner. Maybe he’s older or he’s been to art college, but there is finesse in every arc of colour. His drips and blending are technically flawless and even the quick throw-ups show a balance in the composition. CHEN! isn’t difficult to spot. The tag stands out in capitals and a signature shade of orange. It’s a big high-viz middle finger to society as a whole and Joonmyun finds nostalgia creeping up on him whenever he sees it. It used to be the rare stencil or tag scattered around but recently the obnoxious orange shade is showing up in more places. This isn’t what has Joonmyun’s interest in itself. What has him scanning for CHEN! is the evolution of the art and it’s potential to transfer into something with commercial appeal. It makes Joonmyun chuckle to himself. If someone had told him that his work was something he could make money from, he would have told that person to go fuck themselves and given them the number for the nearest mental hospital. It’s exceedingly likely that CHEN! holds precisely this world view. His work reeks of teen arrogance and rage. Joonmyun likes it. He pays some familiar youths for their information, laughing even as he hears one of the cheekier lads call out what he could get for his money if he wanted. The blush is hot on his cheeks as he jogs away. He’d been directed to a recently completed piece at the mouth of a nearly alley and the website of an underground DJ called OH!. ^v^ When Joonmyun visits the address he had been given, loud obnoxious music begins blasting from the tinny PC speakers. It’s blasting loud enough to attract the attention of anyone in the gallery office. Joonmyun scrambles to turn it down and demolishes everything on his desk in the process. He’s still setting things to rights when Minseok and Kyungsoo appear in his doorway. “Wow, porn soundtracks really are different these days,” Minseok laughs. Kyungsoo joins in. They invite themselves in and look at the video playing on Joonmyun’s screen. “I didn’t know that this was the sort of thing you were interested in, Hyung,” Kyungsoo deadpans. “It actually explains quite a lot. Let me call Chanyeol.” “What are you-?” Joonmyun looks up from where he’s picking up files to see a shirtless youth gyrating and thrusting at the camera to a heavy bass track. “Oh god,” he chokes. It’s with some difficulty that Joonmyun manages to stop the video and find the thing he was looking for. “See!” he points at the screen. “This is what I was looking for.” Neither Minseok nor Kyungsoo seem overly convinced. Kyungsoo returns to his office shaking his head but Minseok remains behind. It’s clear that the website is devoted to street culture. “Why do you still pay attention to that scene?” he asks. “Are you getting your intelligence from someone who isn’t me?” Minseok has that dangerous gleam in his eye he normally reserves for those about to receive his wrath. Joonmyun must be feeling more reckless than usual because he lets his mouth slide into an easy smile and just stares his friend down. “Now Hyung, you know I don’t reveal my sources. If I was in the habit of being loose lipped then you would have suffered by now, huh?” “Fine,” he relents. “If you decide to do something dangerous, just make sure you let me in on it.” Minseok may have let the subject drop but Joonmyun knows that revolving door will come back to hit him later. Minseok is one of two people who are aware of Joonmyun’s teenage indiscretions. Kyungsoo of course is the other. But while Kyungsoo knows because he was Joonmyun’s life line out of that life, Minseok is a fellow reformed delinquent. His friend has been pushing for them to transition fully into dealing in high art. Joonmyun resists because he feels like he’s made a niche for himself dealing in fringe artists. The reason Minseok never pushes the matter too hard is that he knows Joonmyun is right. However much he may want to break away completely from their past, he acknowledges that their strength comes from dealing in what they know. As long as the rich kids, or anyone else for that matter, want a piece of that scene they’ll be happy to supply them. They spent their formative years on the streets. Joonmyun owes much of his success to all the trouble that Minseok didn’t let him get into when they were younger. By eighteen, when most of their friends were hooked on chroming or in and out of juvenile detention, Minseok Hyung made sure that Joonmyun missed the worst of it. To this day, Joonmyun doesn’t know all the things that Minseok had to do to keep them afloat but he’s grateful nonetheless. He shows it in the only real way he knows, by bringing him into the Moonlight Gallery and begging Kyungsoo to help him too. The former delinquent peers at the night vision footage of the two young writers at work. CHEN! works quickly and cleanly, swapping out stencils like this piece had been rehearsed. The other one, lay works quickly too but his style is more organic. Joonmyun laughs out loud when he sees the boy blending on the fly with his fingers. It’s risky and takes a great deal of practice to get the technique right. It’s also an absolute bitch to get out from beneath your fingernails. The pair of them must stink like turps, Joonmyun thinks. He’s struck by the way they move around each other, hardly getting in each other’s way. He had already half decided that he was going to track them down but what really clinched it was when he stumbled on an interview with the pair. Random clicking around this DJ OH’s site led him there. It was back lit to make their features hard to see but Joonmyun could distinguish sharp cheekbones and long eyelashes when the boy turned to show his profile. The half-naked boy from before is interviewing them except he now has a shirt and a name: Sehun. He’s asking CHEN! about what inspires him. What Joonmyun hears steals away his breath. It’s a name he never thought he’d hear again. “It’s gotta be SUHO, right?” Joonmyun pauses the clip. He stares at the face in shadow and the subtitles leave no room for debate about what he just heard. It had been roughly seven years since Joonmyun had last wielded a spray can outdoors, or cannon as the kids now called them. Even before then he had tapered off his night activities. He had been trying to go legit and it wouldn’t have looked good if he had been sprung doing something illegal. How could this kid even know who he was? The run for SUHO’s work wasn’t anything extraordinary. His art was left up about the same amount of time as everyone else’s. Either this kid was older than he looked or there was something else that could explain how his street name is back to haunt him. Now that his curiosity is unsatisfied, he has to find then that much faster. ^v^ Joonmyun doesn’t know what he expected when he sought out ‘the kids’ as he calls them in his mind. Maybe he was expecting to be laughed out of the room, dismissed as an old perve and never thought of again. That’s why he had a hook. He went and stuck his business card over every one of CHEN!’s tags and pieces that he could find. Joonmyun even paid some kids to help him. It was crazy, outrageous even, but it worked. The night of cycling around and handing out money to kids has led a pair of tracksuit clad boys to his gallery. It even appears that one of them is the fugitive from a couple of weeks ago. He still wears that wild look he had while being chased. “Hello gentlemen,” Kyungsoo greets them. He is ignoring their state of dress, their age, basically everything about them when he ushers them into a small waiting room at the front of Joonmyun’s Moonlight Gallery. “Can I offer you a refreshment?” “You got any vodka?” the one with a messy mop of hair asks brashly. His chin is raised defiantly and he almost hits his friend back when he nudges his ankle for his attitude. “What? They look loaded. And they practically summoned us with these fucking cards.” He turns his attention back to Kyungsoo. “Who the fuck is this ‘Joonmyun’ anyway?” “Mr Kim is the curator of the Moonlight Gallery. May I offer you both coffee? It appears that we are all out of vodka right now. I must apologise.” No eyelids batted at the language. “Is he fucking making fun of me?” He begins to raise his voice and Joonmyun decides to introduce himself. He steps across the Gallery floor and lets himself in through the glass door. Kyungsoo exits, tight smile fixed on Joonmyun that says I hope you know what the fuck you are doing. Yes, Kyungsoo can turn the air blue with a few choice turns of phrase just as well as those from the other side of the tracks. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” Joonmyun extends his hand and offers his most dazzling smile. It’s the one he uses on older ladies. It never fails to put money in his ledger and take art off the wall. While the quiet one is visibly stunned, the loud one; the one Joonmyun is sure is CHEN!, merely huffs and raises an eyebrow. “My name is Joonmyun Kim and I am one of the owners of this Gallery as you know.” Joonmyun takes a breath and continues. “I assume you found my cards? I’m sorry to do it like that but I was afraid if I were to contact you through, Sehun is it?” Joonmyun looks for confirmation even though he knows he has the name correct. “That if I contacted you through him, I wouldn’t be taken seriously.” “What do you want?” the loud one asks. He barely acknowledges when Kyungsoo returns with the coffee he offered and sets it down on the low table. The quiet one, on the other hand, practically stands to bow as Kyungsoo leaves the room. He sips the coffee timidly and Joonmyun has to fight down a smile when he sees the delight on his face. “May I know your names?” Joonmyun asks and waits. “I’m Lay,” the quiet one answers quite unexpectedly, picking at the black nail polish and the stubborn paint remnants below. “I mean, my name is Yixing, but you can call me ‘Lay’.” Lay clarifies in words accented with his native Mandarin. He senses disapproval from his friend and ducks his head. “I’m pleased to meet you Lay,” Joonmyun says. He’s quietly happy that he was right and rewards the boy with another brilliant smile. “So that must make you CHEN!. May I know your name?” “You can call me Chen,” the loud one concedes. “Very well,” Joonmyun says. He allows them to see how disappointed h is that Chen didn’t trust him with his given name. “I’m also pleased to meet you.” “What do you want, Mister?” Chen asks. “How old are you two?” Joonmyun replies with a question. He’s a kind and handsome Ajusshi, that’s all. He directs the question to Lay because he believes Chen will ignore him. “I’m 23 and Jongdae is 22,” Lay answers. Chen; no Jongdae hisses at his friend’s indiscretion and Lay colours. “You are both older than you look,” Joonmyun comments, choosing to not acknowledge the slip. “Are you upset, Perve?” Jongdae challenges, once again on the front foot. Ah yes, this is the one who’s art I found and couldn’t look away because of the feeling in it Joonmyun smiles inwardly. “On the contrary, I’m glad. It will make doing business with you easier.” Joonmyun doesn’t wait this time before telling them about what the Moonlight Gallery is and what he can offer them. He wants to give them money and wall space and canvas even, to create artworks to hang in his fancy gallery and sell to rich people. For money. For their graffiti. They look back at him disbelieving until Jongdae reaches out, down his coffee in a few gulps and drags Lay from the building without a word. The poor boy is bowing even as he is yanked out onto the street. “Kyungsoo,” Joonmyun calls over his secretary as he watches the pair head down the street. “If either of them come back, could you please make them welcome and let me know?” “Sure Joonmyun,” Kyungsoo agrees. “You got some spirit there.” Joonmyun has to agree. This one will be hard, but worth it. ^v^ It’s four days later that Kyungsoo spies Lay wandering the Moonlight Gallery. He has a quick word in Joonmyun’s ear and the Curator walks quietly up behind the youth as he looks at one of the larger pieces hanging on the wall. It’s a watercolour of a little girl sitting on a jetty and looking out to sea. “Do you like this one?” Joonmyun asks. Lay sighs but doesn’t turn to look at Joonmyun. “It makes me feel sad,” he replies and slumps his shoulders. “Why is that?” Joonmyun asks. He’s not entirely sure if Lay is talking about the painting. “I always feel sad when I see things in frames,” Lay replies. Ah, so it’s not about the painting. “Should we leave it unfinished?” Joonmyun asks again. “I don’t know,” Lay sighs again. “It just feels so final. Like it’s done, and that’s it. Like that’s how it is forever.” “But that’s why you do it again; why we create more art.” “I know.” “Did you come to mope?” Joonmyun asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He watches Lay rearrange himself into another slumped shape. “Nah,” he says and finally turns to face Joonmyun. “I want to see what sort of person you are.” “I don’t know what I could tell you,” Joonmyun holds his hands out palms up and shrugs. “You can ask me anything you want, ask Minseok and Kyungsoo anything…” Joonmyun pauses. He hadn’t thought it would come to this. Maybe he wouldn’t have to spill all his secrets at once. “I could show you something if you like?” “Lead the way.” Yixing leaves that afternoon with more weighing on his mind than when he arrived. ^v^ Another four days later it’s Jongdae loitering out the front of the Gallery. Minseok immediately calls Joonmyun to tell him. Ten minutes later Joonmyun arrives at the front door. He holds it open for Jongdae and the boy enters stiffly. There’s no way of knowing how much Lay told Jongdae but it’s safe to assume it’s everything he saw. There’s also no way of knowing what Jongdae is thinking so Joonmyun just plays it by ear. “Will you let me show you around?” Joonmyun offers. He doesn’t mention that they left so quickly that he didn’t have a chance. That would put Jongdae on the defensive and is the last thing Joonmyun wants. “Your coffee was good,” Jongdae mutters and Joonmyun smiles. “Kyungsoo certainly does know his way around a machine. You’d never know he’s really an accountant,” Joonmyun confides. Now that he has Jongdae curious, Joonmyun does his best to fan the flame. He walks him past framed prints of bridges decorated with graffiti, canvases splashed with paint and even sculpture until they reach the back of the gallery where there is a whole wall covered from floor to second story ceiling with aerosol art. It’s what Joonmyun showed Lay the last time he was here. “Man, you got done,” Jongdae jokes. “Hey, you should call the council, get this buffed right quick.” Jongdae’s rough words and choppy sentences bring back Joonmyun’s youth. It almost catches in the back of his throat in a way that never usually happens when Joonmyun is out talking to the local kids. What’s different about this street rat? Kyungsoo and Minseok watch from the glass window upstairs. The contrast between the two down on the gallery floor is stark. Jongdae is a sharp little package wrapped in rumpled, and comfortable looking clothes. He shines brightly out from behind his paint splattered black clothing. Joonmyun is the opposite. He’s a soft looking person dressed in sharp tailored clothes. The light reflects diffusely off his skin and his smile is a warm glow. “Do you know what’s going on here?” Kyungsoo asks. “I think I might have an idea,” Minseok answers. His hands are in the pockets of his expensive suit pants but his heart is still covered in paint. “Are you gonna let me in on it?” Kyungsoo asks. “I think this one’s personal,” Minseok says cryptically but Kyungsoo understands immediately. He had been expecting something like this ever since he found out about Joonmyun’s jogging route. Joonmyun had asked Kyungsoo to help him keep track of his jogging trails and map the location data from the snapshots he took while out scouting pieces. At first, when he had seen the GPS data, he had been concerned for his business partner’s safety. These were some pretty rough neighbourhoods to exercise in. He had even gone to Minseok about it. But gradually, as Kyungsoo and Minseok saw the things their friend was photographing, it became clear what was on Joonmyun’s mind. He was trying to live up to his tag. Suho had meant ‘guardian’ when he was too small and weak to protect even himself. It was a kind of tribute to his Minseok Hyung who went by the nonsense vanity alias, ZooMin. The role that Minseok had and the name Joonmyun took on; between them they were looking to use the good fortune they had seen and to pay it forward. Joonmyun tries to guess what Jongdae sees when he looks at him. Jongdae probably thinks Joonmyun is one of those soft, “lucky” boys who grew up with taste and privilege. That he’s someone who went to a good school and had nice things. Maybe he was someone who worried about being popular or getting the prettiest date. He wouldn’t know what it’s like to have to hustle during the good times and hunker down in the winter. That’s what Joonmyun guesses anyway. The two of them talk. Joonmyun is relaxed, with his hands in his pockets, gesturing at some art every now and again. He has the advantage of experience and maturity. He’s also shed his youthful disadvantage and burned it away with money until all that’s left is a wool suit and hair product. Jongdae has no such advantage. He’s raw and skittish. He knows one type of game, but here he has no idea of the rules. Jongdae starts off reserved and wary but eventually he is laughing at something Joonmyun has said. He’s stopped fidgeting, stopped pushing the sleeves of his hoody up and is just listening. The pair are on their way out of the Gallery when they pass some of SUHO's work in photos and on canvas. “At least you have some taste,” Jongdae scoffs. “You like this huh?” Joonmyun smiles. He stops and turns to regard the print of one of his tags gracing a bridge downtown. It’s a gallery; an entire abutment painted in a mural style. Joonmyun considers it to be the pinnacle of his style. It’s not that it’s a particularly dangerous or risky location, nor is it the biggest piece he had ever pulled off. It’s more the memories he created while painting it. The actual graffiti is now gone, its run over. That abutment is long since buffed and gone over many times between then and now. “Yeah,” Jongdae replies, totally absorbed in the print. “Not like you would understand but this guy was the best. He is practically the grandfather of all those aesthetic wannabe toys out there bombing trains at midnight.” “You think you're better than them?” Joonmyun asks. “Yeah.” There’s a small moment where the light flares in Jongdae’s eyes before he breathes in and continues. “I’m not as good as him yet. But I’m getting up. There's something missing.” He trails off, searching for something around him and he starts walking again. He slowly puts one foot in front of the other as they pass more artworks hung on the walls of Joonmyun’s studio. “Oh. What's that?” “I dunno. I'm just not feeling it. I want to be up for the right reason, not just flagrant disregard for the good laws and Pigs, but something quality.” Frustration makes his voice rough. “I was 15 when SUHO quit or disappeared, or whatever. Maybe he died or went to jail? I dunno. It’s the only way you get out.” “Maybe you've got your head up your ass?” Joonmyun baits him. It’s a cheeky jibe and it could blow up in his face, destroying the good will he had built this afternoon. “Hey mate.” Jongdae’s reaction is instant. “You can go fuck yourself. You wouldn't know okay?” “All right, cowboy.” Joonmyun backs off. “Maybe I don’t know anything. But what if I do? You don’t know the first thing about me. Did you consider that?” “Whatever,” Jongdae spits. “Maybe you saw a few documentaries about Banksy and you think you can flog that shit and make a quick buck off of other rich assholes. Well good on you.” “You’ve got some mouth on you,” Joonmyun observes. He’s still amused by the monumental chip on Jongdae’s shoulder. “Yeah? Well let’s see what it can do, huh?” Jongdae is incensed. Nothing makes him angry like being treated like he’s a child who doesn’t know better and is over reacting. He detests being handled or being mocked. “You couldn’t last one week out there before you were begging to come back to your safe life. You have no clue about reality. Kids get beat by the Pigs, they run away from home, their parents kick them out, they’re in and out of detention or foster care.” Jongdae barely takes a breath. He’s right up in Joonmyun’s space now. He shouts and brings up a hand to poke a finger right into Joonmyun’s chest. He feels expensive wool suit under his fingertip and he flicks the silk pocket square right out of Joonmyun’s pocket. Jongdae sees the moment where Joonmyun’s eyes shutter closed. He sees when the polite façade slips and Joonmyun’s face twists. It’s disorienting and Jongdae’s body tells him that he has made a big mistake even before Joonmyun grabs him by the front of the shirt and pushes him back into the wall behind him. “Are you done, you little shit?” Joonmyun’s glasses reflect light like the dangerous glint of a knife being drawn on the street. Joonmyun’s carefully cultivated accent slips and he strikes out in anger. “You don’t know word one about me beyond what your prejudice tells you. You wanna fucking get savage? You feel like you’re a big man eh? You ever lost a friend under a train? To a needle in their arm? No? You still remember your mum’s face? Yeah? Well good on you. Because you’re richer than me. You fucking punk! You don’t know me. You don’t KNOW ME!” Joonmyun is heaving breath after breath. He’s shaking and he pushes Jongdae away. Kyungsoo has rushed over and arrives in time to help his friend to the floor. Jongdae just stares and Kyungsoo rubs big circles into Joonmyun’s back. “I think you should go,” Minseok says. He’s a few paces away and his face could freeze hell. “Sorry” Joonmyun’s hoarse whisper makes Jongdae turn around. When he sees Joonmyun’s eyes they are full of fear. It’s more chilling than Minseok’s anger. ^v^ That night Jongdae breaks the rules. The rules he keeps anyway. He decides to go out alone. He has his spot picked out. There’s a few new stencils rolled up in his backpack and a fresh new cannon of his signature shade with a fat cap ready to paint the town persimmon. It turns out as you’d expect. He’s preoccupied and fuming. He doesn’t even see the patrol until they are right on top of him and then he has to leg it. It just makes him angrier. Jongdae hurls himself into the dumpster just as the truck passes. He’s lucky enough to find the thing full of trash bags. He figures he has about ten seconds before the Pigs come into the alley and check the dumpster. He needs to be still by the time they round the corner. There’s no way for him to know if he is completely covered but he tries to be as till as he can, small breaths in and out through his mouth until he hears something bang against the metal near his head. Then he freezes. The crackle of static and the muffled voices retreat and he just stays there. He has to be sure that the cops are gone. He has a lot of time to think about what happened at the Gallery. There is a lot that doesn’t add up. It gnaws at him until he is mad with it. When he emerges from the trash, he gulps down air. It might be the polluted city air he breathes every day but right this minute he finds it the sweetest he has tasted. There’s one thing he doesn’t want to do. The thing his pride won’t let him do. He never wants to see Joonmyun again. There’s one thing he needs to know. The only person who can tell him is Joonmyun. His curiosity is stronger than his pride at this point. It stinks worse than his clothes do now. ^v^ “How long has he been out there?” Minseok asks, chewing on his lunch. He watches Jongdae pace outside the Gallery from the second story office window. “He was there when I opened up,” Kyungsoo answers without looking up from his computer. He keeps typing. “He looks like shit. Does Joonmyun know?” “I told him.” “So they’re just going to ignore each other?” “Looks like it.” Kyungsoo is getting bored of this conversation. “Shouldn’t we…?” Minseok starts but Kyungsoo cuts him off. “Oh my god, okay!” Kyungsoo rises from behind his computer leaving Minseok blinking in confusion. He watches the younger man push the door open and haul the youngster inside. “I would have gotten him… I was just gonna finish my sandwich…” Minseok says to the empty room. ^v^ “Go take a shower out the back. Here’s some clothes. Put yours in this bag. Joonmyun has something to show you when you’re ready. I’m leaving.” Kyungsoo shoves the clothes at Jongdae and points to the little bathroom in the back. Jongdae does as he is told without any back chat which is a small miracle. Kyungsoo hopes this is all worth it because right now he’s ready for about five scotches all lined up. He closes up the Gallery early and locks the front door on his way to the bar. It’s Monday afternoon and he drags Minseok with him. No one comes in to the Gallery on a Monday anyway. It’s usually when they schedule meetings. Jongdae exits the bathroom wearing the borrowed clothes. The soft grey cotton T and the black drawstring pants are about the right size. They feel worn before and Jongdae wonders if they belong to Joonmyun. He doesn’t know where Joonmyun is waiting for him in the Gallery, but he finds himself drawn to the back wall. It’s different to when he saw it last time. The wall has been buffed an even, clean white. Drop cloths cover the polished wooden floor and there are two ladders set up off to the side. He sees Joonmyun’s back. He’s dressed in a similar way to Jongdae and it feels strange to see it. He looks different in a singlet and loose pants, bare feet sticking out pale and skinny. He’d only ever seen Joonmyun in suits before. He sees Joonmyun pick up one of the spray cans from among a bucket of them on a trolley and shake it up. Jongdae can’t make out Joonmyun’s face because of the face mask but his whole stance appears calm and sure as he begins to pick out the outline of something. Jongdae moves forward slowly and watches Joonmyun work. It’s clear that Joonmyun knows his way around a can. He doesn’t hesitate as thick and thin lines appear under his nozzle. Jongdae watches, mesmerised by the older man’s movements, as he blends and shades. He’d never watched anyone else painting before. Jongdae feels the questions bubbling up as he sits there, knees pulled up to his chest and ankles crossed. There’s so many of them and he doesn’t know which one to ask first. Finally he finds his voice. “How?” he asks. Joonmyun turns and pulls down the mask. He sheds his gloves and replaces the can he was working with before answering. “Hi,” he says, ignoring Jongdae’s question for the moment in favour of asking one of his own. “You ready to know?” He extends his hand, offering to help Jongdae up. Jongdae nods and stands up with Joonmyun’s help. “Are you a writer? I mean, you used to write?” Joonmyun nods. “It was a long time ago now.” “You knew him, didn’t you? SUHO?” Jongdae presses on. “You’d be the right age for it. Were you in his crew? What was he like?” Joonmyun laughs. The eager look on Jongdae’s face is so unlike everything that Joonmyun has seen from him before that it makes him hopeful. It makes him happy. “You aren’t gonna believe this,” he starts. Jongdae’s eyebrows try to meet in confusion. He is pretty sure that nothing could be more shocking than the conclusions he’s already drawing about Joonmyun. He never could have guessed that Joonmyun could write, not in a million years. What could be more unbelievable than a suit being a former writer? “Try me old man,” Jongdae says with a cocky grin and jutting chin. “Alright, since you asked for it.” Joonmyun replies with his own arrogant smirk. With that he rolls his shoulders theatrically and selects a shade of violent purple from the bucket of warm water. The confused look returns to Jongdae’s face when Joonmyun doesn’t answer, instead turning his back. A protest dies on his lips when he walks closer to where Joonmyun is working. What Jongdae witnesses feels like it strikes him right in the chest. He sees the familiar loops and curls of the tag he has spent so long admiring. First the S; the way he draws the nozzle back away from the wall to make the line thicker and leans in closer to make it taper off. Then the U; it links with the S and flows into the H. The O is a cute little circle with a crown. There’s all the same little dashes in exactly the same way he has seen so many times in his memory. Joonmyun reaches past him for a can of gold and adds highlights. His expression is unreadable and their faces are close enough for Jongdae to count the older man’s pores. “Do you believe me?” Joonmyun asks quietly. His eyes hold Jongdae’s and neither of them blink. He looks desperate to be believed and Jongdae finds that he does. “Yes,” Jongdae answers and suddenly the room feels too big. The Gallery makes him feels too small, crowded here next to the wall. Maybe it’s Joonmyun that makes him feel small. He tries to regain his equilibrium the only way he knows how, by talking. “Either you’re a great forger or you’re the real deal. I figure that you wouldn’t fake it just to impress me so you must be SUHO.” “Your logic is flawless,” Joonmyun snorts his laughter as he wipes off his hands. “Do you miss it?” Jongdae asks. “Miss what?” Joonmyun says. “Squatting? Dodging cops? Stealing food? No I don’t miss that. But I know what you mean. I’m being an asshole. I do miss the thrill of it. Now I can paint whenever, whatever and I can even sell it.” Joonmyun looks incredulous like he can hardly believe the life he’s living. “Was it really that bad?” Jongdae didn’t know that. He had it hard growing up with his Mum’s boyfriend trying to be his Dad but it was nothing compared to what Joonmyun describes. “Maybe you can ask Minseok Hyung about it.” Joonmyun looks down at his hands and his tone signals the end to that particular topic. “You wanna go with me some time?” Jongdae offers. It’s probably the closest to an apology that Jongdae will give. “You know, if you think you can keep up.” Joonmyun smiles. “I wouldn’t want you to go easy on me.” “I won’t wait for you if the Pigs chase us either!” Jongdae crows. “I wouldn’t expect you to,” Joonmyun laughs. “I’ll even let you use my stencils if you like?” Jongdae is a little shy about this. It’s not something he would offer to anyone other than his idol. “Nah, I’ve got something of my own I’d like to try if you don’t mind it sitting near your stuff?” “Sure,” Jongdae agrees. “I can share.” Jongdae’s fist comes out before he can pull it back. He’s caught up in the moment and he can’t take it back. Fear rises up and he’s never felt more awkward. It doesn’t matter though, because Joonmyun doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate with a soft tap of his knuckles against Jongdae’s. (((They eventually do go on a run together. They plan and paint and both of them are giddy with it by the time they are done. There’s talk among Jongdae’s crew of Joonmyun being pretty fit for an old guy. Jongdae blushes when Sehun admires Joonmyun in the footage he takes. He almost swallows his tongue when the kid asks him what it’s like to have a hot, rich sugar daddy. He rejects it outright but reacts fiercely when Sehun asks if he thinks Joonmyun would be interested in him. Sehun just blinks and accepts it. The point is moot anyway because two weeks later he claps eyes on Minseok at the Moonlight Gallery. After that, no one has a chance. Especially not Minseok, who succumbs so easily to the 20 year old’s charms that the others find no sport in teasing him about it. It’s a dream for all involved. Except Chanyeol. The bored broker no longer has anyone to set up on dates or divert his cast offs to. Not everyone can get their happy ending. )))