ANGEL ☾ winwin one shots.

stay with me. [jaewin]

a/n: "uh, and that's a long ass ride" -me, writing this, and possibly y'all reading this.

seriously it took me 4 months to write this so it's totally okay if it takes y'all 4 months to read it.

~

jaehyun always thought sicheng is special.

they were thirteen when they met. sicheng was an exchange student and he stood out due to his looks and height. naturally, people flocked to him; eager to know him.

the hype lasted for two, three months. then it decreased – but never quite died.

sicheng was quiet and reserved. as attractive as this was, it's also annoying for those who can't wait to get to his good side. he didn't have many friends except those who genuinely wanted to know him.

jaehyun was one of those people.

he didn't know why at first. but it's an instinct – a voice in his mind telling him to befriend sicheng no matter what it took. so he approached sicheng. sicheng pushed him away multiple times but jaehyun tried again and again.

at last, sicheng sighed and told him, "you're annoying, you know?"

that was the most words sicheng ever said to him. they became best friends since.

there's also another unique thing about sicheng: his music taste.

while other kids were swooning over one direction or blasting linkin park, sicheng found comfort in bach's toccata and mozart's requiem. other kids know justin bieber. he knows heinrich biber. even now, his spotify playlists only consist of tchaikovsky, chopin, beethoven, and the likes.

his eyes lit up whenever he talked about classical music. while jaehyun never quite understood the craze, he flipped people off when they teased sicheng for his 'old-school' taste.

every evening back then, after school, jaehyun followed sicheng home.

his house was small. but it didn't matter because it was only him and his father and nobody came to visit except for jaehyun. anyway, his room was smaller. it's cube-shaped and only fitted a small closet and a single bed; its paint peeled off and door hinge rusty.

it didn't matter either. it was enough for sicheng and jaehyun.

every evening, in sicheng's room, sicheng put on music and danced like nobody's watching. but there was jaehyun who watched attentively. he never took his eyes off sicheng until the music ended, until sicheng's heavy breathing filled the room.

every evening, sicheng turned the small room into his world-class stage.

sure, sicheng didn't say anything. but his dance told jaehyun thousands of complex stories words won't ever be able to express. every twirl and spin were brushstrokes and they painted a whole picture in jaehyun's mind.

there's no words to describe the beauty – the complexity, the pain, the elegance – behind sicheng's dancing. it was enchanting.

he's a true artist. his dance touched jaehyun where hands couldn't, like poetry.

one day – when they were fifteen – sicheng didn't dance. they lied down on his bed and listened to music. when it was his turn to pick, he chose a classical piece. it didn't surprise jaehyun, but he was exceptionally eager about this one.

" listen, jaehyun. really listen ." he said, eyes shining bright.

so jaehyun did. he blocked out every other sound and strained his ears to listen, to understand those chords like sicheng did. to understand why sicheng adored it.