Chapter Text
The lights are off when Ten returns to their dorm room. It takes a moment for Ten's eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they do, he notices Johnny sitting up in bed, the blue glow of his phone reflecting off his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looks up as Ten closes the door.
"Hey," Johnny says. His voice is like smoke in Ten's lungs, warm and comforting and suffocating. His smile spreads across his face like molasses.
"Hey." Ten swallows the word inside of his mouth. His lips are still burning from earlier. "I'm just gonna shower and then I'll join you."
"Sure," Johnny says, sinking down lower in the bed and folding the corner of the blanket down in preparation for Ten to crawl in next to him later. The fan whirs in the window and drowns out the sounds from the street underneath. "Big day tomorrow."
"Yeah. Big day."
In the shower, with the scalding water raining down on him, Ten thinks back on the almost-kiss, remembering the feel of Jaehyun's breath whispering across his skin. How hard it had been to pull away. How the bruised expression on Jaehyun's face had reminded Ten of crushed berries.
.
"What's wrong with you?" Sicheng's brows dip as Ten spills water all over himself. Again.
The studios have all been re-purposed into changing and makeup rooms in preparation for the performance tonight, and Sicheng sits in a chair in front of a vanity mirror as a makeup artist contours his face. He looks a little funny with the exaggerated shadows carving out the hollows of his cheeks up close, but Ten knows that from a distance, he'll look stunning. Ten sits slumped in the vanity seat next to him, looking washed out by the bright lights in the mirror.
"Nothing's wrong with me," Ten tries, but his fingers are uncoordinated and clumsy as he screws the cap back onto his water bottle and puts it back onto the table where all the makeup and brushes and poofs sit in little jars and pods. He looks down at his tank and pouts at the wet patches. At least he hadn't changed yet into his outfit for the first performance, so no one in the audience has to know he's making a mess of himself backstage.
"You've been jumpy all day," Sicheng continues, a little snappish because of his own nerves. "Please pull yourself together. Go meditate or something. We've got to be on stage in an hour."
Ten sighs. "I know. I'm fine. I'll be fine. I'm just a little nervous. I think."
"You better go get changed," the makeup artist says to Ten out of the corner of her mouth. She not-so-subtly eyes the water splotches down Ten's front. "Maybe lay off the water and snacks until after the show, too."
"Fine," Ten says, feeling properly chastised by the artist and his friend both. He hops off his chair and leaves Sicheng to his makeup, making his way out of the room and into another studio down the hall, where all the different outfit changes for the performers have been prepared. Some of the dance company, Ten included, are in multiple pieces for the evening, so quick costume changes are required. Ten locates his standing rack in one corner and pulls out his first outfit, which is for the whole group number. He's also doing the piece with Sicheng and one short solo. He examines the outfits for these performances as well, and hopes against all hope that he doesn't accidentally wipe off all his makeup on the beige pullover he's wearing for his piece with Sicheng when he has to change. Luckily, someone should be helping him with his outfit changes, so he should be fine.
Others are in the changing room as well. He spots Jun and Minghao already dressed and made up for the opening number sitting huddled in the corner watching something on Jun's phone together, listening through shared airpods. A volunteer in the corner -- Ten guesses the older woman is probably a parent of someone in the program -- manually moves the nozzle of a steamer over a shirt hanging on a rack, and the mist from the steamer condenses on the surface of the mirror beside her. When someone smacks a hand onto his shoulder with a quick, "Hi!" that sounds like a bark, Ten jumps and gasps, turning to glare at the offender.
"How do you move so quietly yet you're so huge?" Ten asks him as Lucas pulls him into a bear hug that squeezes the air from his lungs. Strangely, it makes the anxiety pulling at his heartstrings simmer down just a bit, so Ten's grateful for the affection.
"I'm a graceful dancer," Lucas offers. "Are you ready for tonight? Whew, look at that outfit! That's barely a shirt!"
Ten glances where Lucas is looking at the rack and smirks. It's for his solo: a black crop top and gunmetal leggings. The piece is meant to be sensual and gritty and dark. He'll do the piece barefoot. "It's half a shirt," he says.
"Johnny's gonna love that, huh?" Lucas asks with a waggle to his brows.
Ten smacks him across the top of his bicep. "Shut up! Don't be dirty. It's art."
"There's nothing wrong with a bit of sensuality in art. Art can be sexy and sultry. It's evocative. That's all I meant," Lucas says, grinning knowingly.
Ten blushes and shoves at Lucas' chest gently, and the other stumbles back, more out of courtesy than anything else. Ten says, "I need to change. Don't watch me. Go bother someone else."
Lucas, of his boundless, happy energy, simply nods and skips off as suddenly as he came. "See you for the opening!" he calls behind his shoulder as he leaves the room.
Ten changes and thinks about how both Johnny and Jaehyun will be in the audience tonight, and a shiver races up his spine at the realization they'll both witness him at his most vulnerable. He goes back to the makeup room and sits in the chair Sicheng has vacated. He closes his eyes when the makeup artist paints foundation and creams and powders across his face. When he opens his eyes again, a new person stares back at him.
.
For all the fluttering in his tummy before the show begins, once the performance has started and the milling members of the audience have quieted and taken their seats, a calm washes over Ten like the smooth stroke of a brush. He peeks out from behind the curtains bracketing the stage at the sea of people facing it and recognizes no one. No one face stands out from the next, and once the lights go down, everything is shadows.
The stage is hot with light, the black matte surface of the floor like tar. The first whole-group performance goes off without a hitch, and Ten, riding the high of a successful number, giggles with Lucas and Yuta and Sicheng backstage as they change into their next outfits. A volunteer approaches to help Ten into his sweater and, like a toddler, he holds his arms above his head and his breath until his face pops past the the stretchy collar.
"Thank you," Ten says to the volunteer, who grins at him and moves on to the next dancer.
Everything is hushed and reverent backstage, a bit holy. Performers sit in waiting, vibrating with energy, their faces painted masks and their clothes steamed to perfection. A group of young dancers specializing in pointe take the stage and capture the attention of everyone observing on the tiny monitor in the green room. Ten especially loves the doll-like movements of ballet, and the power it takes to come off so delicate and poised.
This rush is what he lives for. There is nothing in his mind but the dance, the stage, the awareness of his own body. He hugs the girls coming back from their performance even though he doesn't know them, because he's so happy at how well they did and they're so happy that it's over. Before he can blink twice, it's time for his and Sicheng's number.
"You ready?" Sicheng asks in the eaves, holding Ten's hand in his as the curtains fall and the stage manager gestures to them to rush to their starting positions before the curtains rise again.
"We'll blow them all away," Ten says.
.
It feels like their best performance yet. The applause goes on for so long that it rings in Ten's ears. He leaves the stage exhilarated, skipping, his fingers wrapped around Sicheng’s hand -- just like how they entered the stage -- while being slightly uncoordinated in his excitement like a foal finding its legs. It's okay; his solo isn't until near the end of the night, so he has some time to find his balance again.
Ten and Sicheng hold each other for a long time after, in the changing room, Ten's head tucked against Sicheng's shoulder. His heart pounds in his chest, in his ears. Sicheng says, "I'm so proud of us."
"Me too," Ten says, nuzzling his face into Sicheng's neck and getting foundation all over Sicheng's skin.
"Hey!"
"Sorry," Ten giggles. "Go get your makeup re-done, then."
Sicheng pulls back with a somber-sounding sigh, his eyes slightly hooded. "I hope I get to dance with you again, after this," Sicheng says.
Ten's heart skips up into his mouth. "Don't get sappy on me yet. We're not done!"
"I know, I know," Sicheng mutters sheepishly. "I'm sorry."
"But I know what you mean. We make a good team."
"Yeah, we do."
Ten allows himself one more breath in this quiet space, this moment that feels like Ten's heart is connected to Sicheng's by a string. He squeezes Sicheng's hands and raises up onto his toes to kiss Sicheng on the cheek. Then he says, "Gotta change. See you on the other side?"
Sicheng nods and goes back to makeup. They have one more piece each.
.
Ten plays with the elastic band of his gunmetal leggings as the makeup artist puts the finishing touches on his face. He feels too exposed in the black crop top, the little hairs on his forearms prickling in the chill brought on by air conditioning. But that's kind of the point.
"All...done..." the artist announces, stepping away from Ten so that he can examine himself in the mirror.
She's set his eyes deep in shadow and smoke, a contrast to his lips painted a soft, babydoll pink. Unicorn tears drip down his cheeks, leaving fixed trails of glitter underneath his eyes.
"You look like a mess, but a pretty one," she says, shaking glitter from her brushes.
"Thanks," Ten says shyly. He stands to examine himself more closely in the mirror. The glitter tears catch the light when he turns his face this way and that. He sits back down and blinks up at her with a smile that makes her blush. "You're incredible."
"Your concept," she says. "I just brought it to life."
In the mirror, Ten catches movement at the door. A familiar silhouette and set of shoulders. That smile. Air freezes in his lungs as Jaehyun spots him in his chair and Ten can do nothing but stare straight ahead at him in the mirror as he nears. He almost reaches out for the makeup artist as she moves away, as though to hold her before himself like a shield, a buffer between himself and whatever it is Jaehyun wants. But he doesn't, and Jaehyun is next to him in moments.
"You shouldn't be back here," Ten says, still resolutely staring straight ahead. He's afraid of looking at Jaehyun directly. Afraid of how his body will react.
"I know," Jaehyun says quietly. "But I came anyway. Yuta sneaked me in."
"Why aren't you with him, then?"
"I wanted to see you. To see how you're doing. You've been -- you've been incredible so far," Jaehyun says.
Ten's fingers fly up to his mouth. He chews on his thumbnail as he feels himself shrink in the chair. "Jaehyun..."
"I just wanted to say sorry, again. I don't want to ruin things. I don't want to come between you and--"
"Shut up," Ten snaps, eyes flitting around to see who's watching, who's listening. He spots Jun in another one of the makeup chairs in front of a vanity toward the other end of the room, his gaze turned to them. Jaehyun seals his lips together and Ten huffs in frustration. He takes Jaehyun by the wrist and hops out of his seat, guiding them out of the room in quick steps. "Not here," he says.
Jaehyun follows him without protest. They find a tiny studio not being used for tonight, down the hall and around the corner with space enough for an upright piano and a bench and not much more. Ten closes the door behind them and whirls on Jaehyun. "What are you doing ?"
Jaehyun's mouth opens and closes a couple of times without sound, like a fish out of water. Finally, he says, "I don't know."
Ten could just about pull his own hair out, winding his fingers into the roots. "I'm about to perform. I can't do this right now."
"I know," Jaehyun sniffs. "I know. I'm sorry. This is really selfish of me? But when you were dancing up there, I kept thinking -- I kept thinking you're the most beautiful boy I've ever met. There's something about you that feels like home, like maybe I've known you forever. Or in another life, or something. And then I just kept thinking -- I just want you in my life. No matter what. And that I had to fix things with you. And that I'm sorry. I'm really sorry if I ruined anything between us. I'll do anything to make it up to you."
It feels like someone has punched Ten in the stomach. He tries to draw in breath, winded and hurting, and his voice comes out tremulous and broken. "Jaehyun, if I cry right now, I'll ruin my makeup."
"Don't cry," Jaehyun murmurs. He raises his hands slowly, slow enough for Ten to pull away, but Ten doesn't.
The feeling of home, Jaehyun said. Ten pictures an apartment in the middle of Seoul, overlooking the Han River. Plants hanging in tiny terrariums in front of the windows. A big bed with white sheets. Feels like home, even though Ten's never stepped foot in a place like that. He shudders when Jaehyun cups his face in his hands like he's a precious ornament.
"Don't cry, don't cry," Jaehyun murmurs still, so of course Ten cries. Not too loud or too wet or too hard. Just with that sharp feeling in his chest like a balloon has expanded inside of him with nowhere to go. Jaehyun dabs at the tears slowly trickling down Ten's cheeks with his thumbs so as to not ruin his makeup. "There, there," he coos. "Don't cry."
"I don't know how to do this," Ten says brokenly, thinking of Johnny and his soulmate he's going to meet tonight and feeling very sorry. Ten loves Johnny so much, but there's something here with Jaehyun also, something he's not sure he can let go of now that he's found it.
"I'm so sorry."
"Stop apologizing. Stop. Just stop." Ten wrenches himself out of Jaehyun's grasp and takes a step back, chest heaving with the balloon still inside of it. "I'll -- I'll find you after the show, okay? We'll talk then."
A sharp rapping of knuckles on the door almost makes them both jump out of their skins. Jun's face peers in through the narrow window in the door, and he points at Ten, mouthing the words, you're up.
"Shit," Ten curses, looking back and forth between them. Jun waves his hand, beckoning Ten to hurry up. "I--"
"Go," Jaehyun says. "Go, I'll see you after the show. I'll go back out into the audience right now."
So Ten leaves Jaehyun in the little studio room with the upright piano and strides to the stage. Beside him, Jun keeps pace and asks, "Who was that? Did you break up with Johnny?"
"No!" Ten almost shouts at him, and Jun trips over nothing and falls behind. "Sorry, sorry -- It's complicated--"
Jun shakes off the surprise and waves Ten on again. "Just go. Everyone's waiting for you."
.
He stumbles onto the stage as the curtains are rising. The spotlight shines down on him, blinding him, searing into his retinas. He hits his starting mark and looks out over an audience that looks like the ocean at night. Just where the moon should touch against the horizon, he sees Johnny, rising above the rest.
He blinks, and loses Johnny into the water. The music starts, and the stage lights grow hotter. Ten takes a deep breath and dives.
The piece is about being alone. It's about his own struggle to find connection, and purpose, and strength. It's about the boy in high school who dated him for a while only to crow about how easy Ten had been for him because all Zeroes were like that. It's about being told when he was still a child forming words that their family home would never truly be his, by a cousin who was visiting from Shanghai. It's about Kun, and being left behind.
And then, it's about hope. About throwing himself into his love for dance, and music, and art. About finding an advocate in his sister and, eventually, in himself. He's put everything of himself into this choreography, every hurt he's felt, every challenge he's overcome. He imagines he's in a room performing this just for the people who are most important to him in the world.
He ends the piece with his fist in the air, the light glancing off his timer, his zeroes still glowing green like tiny beacons when the stage plunges into darkness.
He catches his breath. The applause roars in his ears and yet it sounds like nothing. He feels like someone has sucked the marrow from his bones; he could crash onto the floor right now and never get up again and be fine with it, but then the lights start to come up again, gray and dull, like fog or mist over a lake.
Ten runs.
.
When the fog clears, he's outside, wearing slip-ons and someone else's zip up hoodie that hangs off his shoulders, and he's on the steps leading up to the Lincoln Center. The three buildings surrounding the plaza with the fountain in the middle are all lit up golden in the night. He looks up from where he's sitting, on the very edge of a wide step, light spilling out from under his legs, and sees no stars in the inky sky. He hugs his arms and hunches over when a breeze blows over him, bringing an unexpected chill.
"Ten!"
Ten looks behind his shoulder and sees Johnny jogging toward him. He waves at him. There are few others roaming the plaza. Tourists snap photos in front of the fountain, capturing the grand buildings behind it. Johnny reaches him flushed and panting.
"Why'd you run off like that?"
Ten shrugs and picks at imaginary lint on his leggings. He chews on his thumbnail. Johnny groans like an old man when he sits down next to him.
"You're going to miss curtain call," Johnny says quietly, knocking his shoulder into Ten's.
"I can't be in there after that."
"After what? Your solo? God, Ten. You were so amazing."
Maybe, Ten thinks. But then he'd also felt flayed raw after spilling his guts like that all over the stage, like a piece of tenderized meat.
"I cried," Johnny says.
Ten looks at him sharply, and Johnny reaches over to swipe at Ten's wet cheeks with his thumb. Glitter coats the whirl of his thumbprint. "Did you?"
"It was so good, Ten. You're so good. You're incredible."
"I don't feel incredible," Ten whispers.
"Why?" Johnny asks, ever so gentle. He threads his arm across the back of Ten's shoulders and pulls him in close, and Ten's head falls to his chest because he doesn't have the energy to hold it up anymore. "This is your night."
"It's yours, too," Ten says, referring to Johnny's timer. He doesn't dare look at the numbers counting down on Johnny's wrist, so he lifts his eyes instead to meet Johnny's and darts forward to place a kiss on his bow-like lips. Electricity fizzles between them. Johnny holds Ten's cheek in his palm and kisses him back, smearing babydoll pink past the corners, down his chin. "Remember how we said we'd always figure things out, big or small?" Ten asks in a small voice.
"Of course." Johnny pulls back, rubbing his thumb over the pink stains across Ten's skin to swipe them away but just ending up smearing glitter all over his face instead.
Ten takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I have to tell you something."
Johnny pushes his bottom lip out in mild concern and pauses in trying to clean Ten's face of glitter. "Okay...?" he prompts cautiously.
Ten thinks back on this whole miracle of a summer. Exploring the city with Johnny, eating with Johnny, laughing and crying with Johnny. Growing with Johnny. He has never loved anyone the way he loves Johnny. When he had imagined himself performing his solo in a room with the people who are most important to him, Johnny came to mind. Then Tern and Sicheng. Then, though he's only known him for a short time, Jaehyun. If he doesn't tell Johnny about Jaehyun it will fester inside of him like poison in his blood.
"I have to tell you about Jaehyun."
Johnny's eyes narrow. "What about Jaehyun? Has he done something to you?"
"No," Ten says quickly, shaking his head. "No, no. It's -- it's not that. It's not that at all. Jaehyun is -- he's sweet and a little shy. And smart. But he doesn't look down on anyone. And he's gentle. He reminds me a little of you."
Confusion flits across Johnny's expression. "Of me?"
"Yeah." Ten nods, hoping that Johnny will understand without him having to spell it out, but of course he doesn't, and Ten's heart falters inside of his chest.
"What are you saying, Ten?" The confusion on his face slowly shifts into dread and, with it, misery. Johnny pulls back with his eyes as deep and dark as the inside of a well, and Ten rushes forward to clutch at his shoulders, keeping him close. Johnny's misunderstood.
"It's not what you think," Ten says, eyes burning. "Please, Johnny. Listen to me, okay? I love you so much. I love you so, so much. I'm in so much fucking love with you. But Jaehyun. I think -- I think I like him, too."
The silence is thick and viscous. Johnny's mouth opens and closes a couple of times, just like Jaehyun's did before, just like a fish out of water.
“Say something?” Ten begs. He cups Johnny’s face in his hands. He presses a kiss to Johnny’s lips desperately.
A laugh blows past Johnny's lips, hoarse and crackling like static. "I thought you were breaking up with me."
Ten falls against Johnny with a shudder, with a sigh of relief, knocking their foreheads together. "I could never do that. You're a part of me forever."
“Yeah. You’re a part of me forever, too,” Johnny murmurs. Behind them, the fountain spits water into the air in towers. “So, now what?”
“I don’t know,” Ten admits. “I kind of hoped you’d have an answer.”
“I never have any answers. I go by my gut all the time. You know that.” Johnny laughs softly against Ten’s mouth and kisses him, and Ten listens to the water fall back down to the earth like rain.
“One of the many reasons why I love you,” Ten sighs.
“For real, though.” Johnny looks Ten straight in the eyes and locks their gazes. “Now I really have to meet him, this Jaehyun. If you like him...like that.”
Ten nods, so utterly grateful for the grace Johnny is showing him, the straightforward acceptance. Things have always been like this with Johnny, Ten realizes, and maybe they always will be -- easy and effortless, as simple as putting one foot in front of the other, as simple as breathing. Even the hard parts, looking back on them now, don't seem so bad. “You’ll meet him,” Ten promises, palms folded around the sharp edge of Johnny’s jaw. “He’s probably already--”
“Ten?” Not Johnny’s voice. A shadow blocking the golden light. Ten looks up and sees: heat waves coming off the red clay tennis courts, light flashing off a white panel as a photographer beckons his model closer, pink cherry blossoms floating on the surface of a blue, blue lake. He gasps like he’s been pulled up from that water. Jaehyun stands a short distance away with his hands in his pockets, digging the toe of his shoe into the concrete.
“--coming,” Ten finishes in a whisper, because there’s barely any air in his lungs. He’s not sure what he’s just seen, or why, or when. He stands, too, dragging Johnny up to his feet with him.
Johnny turns.
His timer goes off.
So, too, does Jaehyun’s.
For half a second, their timers chime a slightly syncopated beat like they’re playing off of each other, and for half a second, Ten’s heart falls down to his knees as the two other boys watch each other, take each other in.
Then, abruptly, everything goes dark and silent, like a candle being blown out. The wind picks up speed between the buildings, howling, and nearly rips the hoodie off Ten’s shoulders. He reaches out for Johnny’s hand and squeezes it, frozen with fear. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he makes out Jaehyun coming cautiously closer. He looks up at the sky, at the stars winking back at him in the absence of light pollution. Something inside of him clicks.
It only lasts for three seconds. Ten counts them. The electricity and the city come back alive with an audible whoosh and hum of energy. The golden glare of light illuminating Lincoln Center shines almost too bright before dimming back to ordinary levels, and the fear melts away with the release of his breath.
His eyes were closed. He opens them again to Jaehyun’s hand in his right and Johnny’s hand in his left. He looks down at where they’re linked and doesn’t realize why it looks so strange until Jaehyun points it out.
“My timer,” Jaehyun says in a hushed voice. Ten drops his gaze to where Jaehyun’s eyes are focused.
The silver band around his wrist is still intact, still whole, but shockingly, the face of his timer is blank. No numbers run across its surface. Ten looks at Johnny’s and finds it to be the same. He looks at his own.
Blank. Empty. Unwritten.
Johnny opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out the first time. Patient, Ten brushes his thumb over the back of Johnny's hand to encourage him. Johnny swallows and finds his voice again. "What does it mean?" he asks.
Ten thought maybe he’d feel unmoored without the numbers flashing back at him, like a kite battling a storm. Instead, he thinks back on the summer and about Johnny and Jaehyun and the way they both make his heart swell, and a feeling Ten has never felt before rushes through his veins: euphoria, unsteady and new, but blooming all the same. It’s like there is a pillar connecting him to the center of the earth. He doesn’t need those numbers. He only needs himself.
Johnny and Jaehyun look to him with matching expressions of uncertainty on their faces, and Ten squeezes both of their hands, drawing them both to him with a smile forming on his lips that comes from the very deepest part of him.
"It means whatever we want it to mean," Ten says. “Johnny, meet your potential roommate tomorrow, okay? The three of us -- we should talk.”
.