Exactly As It Sounds • Young K • Day6

i.

As they move through the set list, your attention finally turns to the fifth member, Young K. As you watch him cock his head to the side, biting his lip and winking, followed by the high pitched squeals of the girls before him, you snort and roll your eyes good-naturedly. He sticks out his tongue and licks his lips, tossing his head and running a hand through his dark hair in a manner that is both practiced and sexy, and you think you have him pegged completely. You're well acquainted with his type: good-looking, talented, and well aware of it.

In other words, a player.

Shaking your head you turn your attention back to Wonpil. You'd always preferred guys like him. Attractive, but sweet. Wonpil was funny, sincere and caring. Sinfully cute, you were still sometimes affected by his aegyo, but he was only a friend to you and the feeling was mutual. Knowing where you stood with one another, with no chance of confusion, was comforting.

As the concert begins to wrap up, a new song begins. The first notes are played in a tune that is as heart-breaking as it is beautiful. As you listen to the lyrics, you feel your heart lurch. The bittersweet words about lost love and painful meetings is like rubbing salt onto your raw heart. You swallow back the tears as the face you've tried to forget over and over the past month resurfaces in your mind.

"It's over," you tell yourself fiercely. You promised yourself you wouldn't think about him. But it's a resolve more difficult than you imagined. Shoving away the memories that have resurfaced, your eyes seek out Wonpil, almost unconsciously, like an anchor to a ship tossed at sea.

After the concert you feel impressed, hyped, and oddly proud. Wonpil worked hard on arranging, producing, and even writing lyrics for the songs, collaborating with the other Day6 members. He had even written one song, dedicated to his mother, on his own. In a time when mainstream Korean artists rarely created their own music, Day6 was a group apart. It took a while for their music to gain recognition, but slowly they were attracting the attention they deserved. Your heart burns with pride, thinking of Wonpil having the courage to pursue what he really loves.

As you wait for the concert hall to empty, and make your way backstage. Flashing your V.I.P. pass at the security guard, you scan the doors along the hallway for the word "Day6." Your eyes finally land on exactly what you were looking for, as you grasp the silver handle and swing open the door to their dressing room. But the sight that greets you is far from what you expect.

A shirtless DoWoon stands before you, naked from the waist up. For a split second you simply stare at one another, before he hastily grabs his shirt in an attempt to cover himself up.

"Wh-who are you?" DoWoon stutters, his facing becoming increasingly pink.

"I was just looking for Wonpil," you grin, taking in the definition of his arms and the tinge of red gracing his ears.

"You're a fantastic drummer by the way," you compliment. "That must be why you have such great arms." The compliment is accompanied by a teasing bite of your lip, a meaningful look at his barely covered chest, and a wink.

If you thought DoWoon was red before, his face quickly morphs to an even deeper shade of scarlet. Apparently he's shy, but you find it adorable.

For one moment he simply gapes at you, mouth opening and closing silently, unable to form any words. You think to yourself the least you can do is step out of the room so the poor kid can get dressed without fainting. But before you can turn around, you feel something firm and strong close around your wrist. Your arm is yanked painfully, and you stumble to face the perpetrator, a tall devilishly good-looking guy with high cheekbones and an angelic face.

Young K.

"You can't be back here," he says angrily, glaring at you with enough venom to put a cobra to shame.

"I was just—" you start to explain yourself, reaching for your V.I.P. card, when he interrupts you, shaking your wrist slightly.

"This is our dressing room, a private place. Spying on people while they're changing isn't being a fan, it's called stalking. Did you take a picture of him?"

Now it's your turn to stand there, speechlessly gaping, as his words sink in.

Did he seriously think you were some kind of crazy saesang?

"What? No! This is a complete misunderstanding," you protest, but your words die as, with shock, you feel his large palms begin to pat you down, reaching in your jacket pockets, gliding over the back of your jeans.

"Excuse me, are you seriously groping me right now?" you gasp, eyes widening.

Young K ignores your question, and instead reaches towards your purse.

"Woah, that's my personal property. You have no right to touch my things," you exclaim, jerking it out of his reach.

"The fact that you're backstage without permission automatically gives me the right to have you and your belongings searched," Young K retorts, plucking your purse out of your hands.

You watch, mouth agape, as he unceremoniously dumps the contents of your bag onto the floor before picking up your phone.

As he turns on the screen, you lunge forward and unsuccessfully attempt to wrestle it out of his hands.

Ok, so, this isn't working.

"Let me get this straight," you say as you retreat, panting slightly.

Maybe if you try to approach this rationally you can talk some sense into him.

"I'm supposed to be a crazy stalker because I accidentally walked into a room where someone was changing. However, you—the normal one—immediately resort to violence. I mean, you're practically assaulting me."

"I have a right to protect myself and my bandmates, and it wasn't groping," he defends himself matter-of-factly before sighing loudly.

"You know what, I was trying to be nice—you unlock the phone, I delete the picture, and we just forget it for your sake—but now I have no choice."

He leans closer, his hand latching on in an even tighter vice-grip on your wrist before turning around and dragging you behind him.

"I'm taking you to security."

"What?" you gasp, panicking. Planting your heels into the ground, you lean back, trying to wrench your arm out of his grasp.

"Does this guy eat bricks for breakfast, or something? Why is he so strong?" you think.

"I am not a stalker. Kim Wonpil happens to be one of my best friends. So will you please calm down and just give me a chance to explain?"

Young K twists back to face you, sarcasm written all over his face.

"Oh yeah, sure. Wonpil and you are besties. And we're secretly part of The Avengers," he snorts condescendingly, gesturing at himself and DoWoon.

At first you had been understanding. I mean, it was unfortunate timing for you walk in on the half-naked maknae. But being groped, dragged by the wrist, and now mocked openly? Your patience has just about reached its limit.

You take a step closer to Young K, glaring up into his gaze, both of you breathing heavily.

Kpop idol or not, you were not the kind of girl he could mess with.

A/N: Okay, hope the first chapter wasn't too boring. This fic is kind of a slow burn, but I have a lot of fun things planned, so look forward to it. As always, thank you for the votes and comments and don't forget to let me know what you think. <3