METRONOME. － k.hs + s.hs

s̶i̶x̶

Fame was a strange concept to comprehend, Hyoseob came to believe, for as soon as his song with Zion.T was released, his own name began to spread like fine sand in strong wind. People asked questions, praised him, critiqued him, expressed their wishes to hear more of him.

Hyoseob couldn't understand what had so drastically changed about him, enough that a good number of people began taking interest in him, but he surely wasn't complaining.

He was supposed to make his proper debut in a matter of months, the first after the failures of his previous attempts, and the past which hung over his head was as dangerous as any untamable beast.

Not doubting yourself was hard when you had failed times before, and eventually he had come to make Haesol aware of this, much to his embarrassment. And yet, the man acted as kindly as he could, considerate and supportive, picking up calls at four a.m. when Hyoseob couldn't sleep due to anxiety, and would stay out on the balcony of his new apartment smoking, and visiting him as often as possible, either at work or at his place.

Being in the pre-debut stage and with there still being a certain hype surrounding his name after his appearance on Zion.T's single, his company had made it a point for him to attend festivals and award shows, urging him to maintain the excitement and intrigue he had accumulated until he would release his album.

This meant however, that Hyoseob had to dress up and go to after-parties, be around countless strangers, most even famous, and not make a complete fool of himself. It terrified him and such events were definitely not his type of scene, especially as he felt out of place, being a rookie amongst renowned artists.

As it commonly turned out to be, Haesol understood this about him and would make him tag along to events and gatherings, and vice-versa, whispering words of comfort or advice in the shorter's ear with a faint brush of his lips against the latter's lobe.

The action never failed to make heat rise to Hyoseob's cheeks, painfully visible and at which he would clear his throat and lower his gaze, nodding to show he'd heard what he had been told.

The situation went on such a way until a month later. At yet another award show, where Zion.T had failed to win what he was nominated for, Hyoseob was impressed to see that it seemed his loss had no effect on his mood whatsoever. Haesol continued to smile and urge the younger to talk, pose for pictures － for which he insisted always having Hyoseob by his side, and then proceed to explain that the rookie would be debuting soon － and chatting amicably with producers and rappers, along with the occassional idol who would scurry towards him and bow as earnestly as Hyoseob had when he had first met the singer. Seeing such a scene for himself, made him think back at how far he had already come.

Camera lights were constantly flashing, their names being called over the fervent bustle of people, the energy in the air was tangible, but Hyoseob felt as though it were sucking all of his own.

When they finally made their way to the luxury car Zion.T and him had arrived in, the latter let out a ragged breath and flopped back onto the black leather seats, letting his eyes flutter closed and his muscles go lax.

The sound of Haesol shutting his door made him fix his position into one more decent though, bringing his legs together and moving further into his seat.

"You look worn out," Haesol commented with a slight chuckle, adjusting his suit jacket and proceeding to mimic the other's stance.

At the statement, Hyoseob gave a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose prior to dragging his palm down his face.

"Yeah. All that talk and bright lights gave me a headache," he confessed, "I don't know how you do it."

His senior gave a deep nod, long fingers reaching to lift his hat off his head, exposing his dyed blond hair styled into a gelled quiff which was combed back, sides left their original brown and shaved short.

"It's something you'll have to get used to, you know? It comes with the whole package of being an artist," he abruptly turned his attention from the hat on his lap to the man abreast him, tone suddenly serious, "If you really want to continue with music, this is the sort of life you must accept. You'll be appreciated but also disregarded, judged, and once you'll have money in your pockets you'll attract vultures. People you haven't spoken to in years will come to you as if they had never left your side, those who have known you for all your life will look at you differently, and others will try bringing you down."

Haesol seemed to hesitate for an instant and then his hand went to slide the bulky sunglasses from his nose, folding them and setting them upon his hat. Hyoseob watched his every move enraptured, and when they directly met eyes for the first time, his lungs felt short of air.

The man's eyes were small, dark, but they held a warmth and genuine concern that Hyoseob never thought he'd see.

"Once you get into this life, it's hard to leave. I'm not trying to scare you off, don't misunderstand, I just don't want you to regret your decisions."

Both of them had their heads directed at each other, Hyoseob's cheek pressing against the cold material of the seat, but he didn't dare move and was almost even reluctant to blink.

While the words of warning stirred something within him, the intensity of the man's stare brought more emotion to Hyoseob's heart, and he took the opportunity to admire the entirety of Haesol's face, imprinting it in his memory because he didn't know when he'd next get to see it.

"I'll learn to accept the noise and chaos, and I'll be careful of those who want to use me. I want nothing more than to do music in my life. After all the effort and sacrifices I have done to reach this point, nothing else will stop me."

The answer seemed to satisfy Haesol who, after a pregnant pause during which the only noises to be heard were their breaths and the hum of the engine, gave a bob of his head and faced forward once more.

Hyoseob noticed the older's hands twitching for his glasses and gripping them to pull at the stems, but Hyoseob didn't want him to hide away again just yet. He didn't get to see him for long enough, he couldn't just put his mask back on as if Hyoseob hadn't seen him at all.

And so, without his mind's consent, his own hand went to cover those of Haesol, stopping them from going any nearer to his face, and the contact brought their eyes to lock a second time, the latter's expressing surprise and the former's apprehension.

"Please, keep them off until I leave."

He hadn't meant to whisper it, for hearing his own plea it then felt to carry a certain weight to it he couldn't determine, and while his soft-spoken demand left Haesol taken aback, he eventually let his lips curl into a feeble smile, lowering his hands once more.

"Alright, if that's what you want."

Hyoseob cleared his throat, bashful all of a sudden, proceeding to take his hand away from the other's.

"Thank you."

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