Chapter Text
“Scoot your stupid ass over.”
“I’m literally scooted all the way.”
“Guys.” Yone’s voice cuts through the September heat between Ezreal and Kayn. Petulant, they both shoot him a dirty look through the rear view mirror. “If you're going to fight for the next twenty-five minutes, Ezreal is switching with Aphelios and going grocery shopping instead,” Yone warns.
“Me? Why me?” Ezreal cries. “He started it!”
“Because Kayn is banned from grocery shopping.”
Kayn sneers in Ezreal’s face as if it was something to be proud of. They're crammed in the back of Yone’s humble sedan with Kayn’s guitar case digging sharply into Ezreal’s hip. Two crates full of other stage props and gear fill the remaining space and squash any semblance of his personal space. Sett is automatically shotgun on account of his sheer bulk, and Yone would rather die than let Ezreal or Kayn drive his car.
“You’re so fussy , Ez, more than usual,” Kayn jabs. His cologne is nauseating at this distance, so he leans towards the window instead where Alune’s silver hatchback is idling beside them.
K’Sante rolls down the window from the backseat and waves. “Everything okay? We’re about to head out.”
“No, everything is not okay! Why can’t Sett go to the store with you guys too? I need space from this idiot!”
“Because I have a tummy ache, man,” Sett defends. “The sooner we get going the better!”
Alune rolls down the passenger window to shoot him a sympathetic look. Aphelios less so. “You didn’t want to go shopping either, Ez, so stick it out, okay? We’ll buy you a snack!”
Then they’re peeling out of the parking lot in a flash.
“Can’t get everything you want, huh?” Kayn laughs, short and sharp.
“Are you ready now?” Yone sighs.
Ezreal slumps into his seat and knocks his head against the guitar case with a dull thunk . “Yeah,” he mutters weakly.
The car lurches forward, leaving the studio building behind. They were able to finish practice an hour earlier than they usually do thanks to everyone’s focus. Instead of their usual shenanigans they were able to focus on improving the finer details of their song and even begin mapping out their ideas for the music video. Nobody mentioned it but the pressure of “PARANOIA”’s release date was starting to set in. Even Kayn had managed to keep all his infuriating jabs towards Ezreal to himself until they finished.
Kayn stares apathetically out the window now, somehow lulled silent by Yone and Sett’s dull conversation. He looks more intimidating with his mouth shut. The set of his eyebrows pull low on his face, and the high sun illuminates the ruby red of his left eye like a gem. Ezreal isn’t fooled by Kayn’s good looks, even as he traces the strong outline of his nose.
Suddenly Kayn is staring directly at Ezreal. He blinks. “See something you like?”
Ezreal’s eyes roll. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Your stupid guitar is blocking my view.”
“I know my looks are captivating but-”
The car makes a sharp left turn, propelling Ezreal into Kayn’s body. His hand shoots out to catch himself on the door but so do Kayn’s hands, quickly steadying him around the arm. Ezreal chokes. The car rights itself soon enough and his touch falls away but the shape of his fingers linger on his bare skin.
“Sorry about that,” Yone calls from the front. He doesn’t get a response. His eyes flick up to the rearview mirror.
“What’re you, a fuckin’ Pringle?”
“I’m sorry I’m not stronger than gravity .”
Ezreal and Kayn sit firm against one another, staring resolutely out opposite windows. The exhale Yone lets out is noticed by no one.
Earnest greets everybody except Sett, who makes a break for the bathroom, shoes on and all. His wet snout pushes happily into Ezreal’s hands before bounding off to follow Kayn into his room. That dog adores him.
Besides Alune, they share a rented house in a quiet neighborhood towards the edge of the city. Yone had reasoned they’d want to keep a discreet existence and retain their privacy as much as they could rather than having the convenience of a metropolitan living. They lucked out, though, finding a four bedroom place with a tiny little yard in the back. There's peace in sharing a domestic space with friends, a home, Ezreal thinks.
Ezreal passes Yone’s bedroom on the first floor and trudges up the stairs. K’Sante’s space is the entirety of the loft, arguably the best luck of the draw considering the wide space. Aphelios and Sett share the master bedroom at the other end of the hall, and Kayn’s door is already tightly shut across Ezreal’s own room. He makes a beeline for his bed and collapses with a heavy sigh, head swimming.
He is exhausted. Worried. Weak and letting Kayn get on his nerves easier than he should be. His relationship with Kayn isn’t entirely conventional, but even he can admit that lately, it’s just not Kayn’s fault when Ezreal bristles. The pressure he attributes to their productivity is also the pressure crushing Ezreal. He’s supposed to be a professional in the industry and the thought of re-debuting is twisting him into a pretzel. Maybe being jaded is a pipeline to failure , Ezreal thinks miserably.
When he moved into the house, one of the first things he unpacked were his posters from his singular music endeavor. They pop out with bright colors against the white walls. Second was the golden plaque, placed proudly on his desk. Ezreal liked to think they were motivators, reminders of where his talent has already taken him, but he finds himself casting his eyes aside more and more often.
He feels around the bed for his pajamas to change in, and wrestles his day clothes off like a squirming worm. 3 p.m. is never too early for despairing in sweatpants.
One of Kayn’s funny little quirks is that while he refuses to let anybody in his room, he’s perfectly fine barging into Ezreal’s unannounced. The door slams and rebounds against the wall just in time for Kayn to witness Ezreal hip-thrusted in the air to pull his pants back up.
“Seriously?” Ezreal’s head shoots up. Yone’s angry voice floats up to them so Kayn closes the door on him and shrugs. Ezreal doesn’t miss the onceover Kayn gives him, but can’t find it in himself to point it out.
“It was the dog,” Kayn says nonchalantly. He snatches the desk chair and sits in it backwards, leaning over the back with a feral grin. His face flashes for a moment. Somehow he always takes up space like he owns it.
“What do you want? You were doing so well this morning,” Ezreal mutters, crawling beneath his sheets. “A whole day is not that far off.”
Kayn scoffs. “You are so snappy today. What’s gotten your panties in a twist, little princeling?”
And Ezreal’s blood simmers just to prove him right. His temper has been on a hair trigger for over a week now and that’s just not him. His skin feels tight like the real him is trying to crawl back out. Ezreal is tired of himself, of all things. He rolls over and faces the wall, curling up like a pathetic shrimp. “It’s always prince this, prince that with you. You’re literally the last person I want to talk to,” he mutters quietly.
“Well, lucky for you,” Kayn sings, “yours truly has been appointed your counselor by none other than Yone.”
A humorless burst of laughter escapes Ezreal. “What? You’re joking, there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Have your ears gone bad with your attitude? I said Yone thinks you need a little talk. From me. Personally.”
He can hear Kayn fiddling with the things on Ezreal’s desk; shuffling around his sheet music, disorganizing his sunglasses, scribbling on his whiteboard. Ezreal refuses to say anything, stalling in the hopes that Kayn would give it up and get out. Eventually he picks up a rubber eraser and chucks it at Ezreal’s back, forcing him to rise from the bed with a sigh.
“Ouch, you idiot.”
That’s just like Yone to pick up on Ezreal’s mood, and even more so to set up this whole situation starting with the car seating arrangements. At least Yone knows his place as their domineering mother. If he were the one sitting in Kayn’s place right now Ezreal would turn inside out.
“Go on, cakepop, lay it on me,” Kayn entices, giving him an untimely sultry look. “I know you want to.”
“You’re terrible at this...” Ezreal grimaces. He regards Kayn suspiciously, searching for any hint of mockery or malice. He only finds poorly hidden amusement, a bit of earnestness probably aimed at Ezreal’s vulnerable state. Ezreal makes the foolish decision to trust him and his probing. “I’m just… nervous. We’re only a couple months out from our debut, doesn’t that scare you?”
“No.”
“Of course not.” Ezreal sighs.
Kayn fits his head into his palm, settling in. “What’s there to worry about? Do you really think months of our hard work is going to go up in smoke? What a joke.”
“I don’t know, maybe! What if it’s not good enough? What if people don’t like it and we’re just a-a flop ?”
Kayn rolls his eyes. “I think you’re just projecting because you’re on your second rodeo.”
“I am!” Ezreal’s fist closes around the blanket. “That’s the whole point! I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t!” He cries, but quickly loses steam as his voice wavers. “That’s the whole point, Kayn...”
“Ah.”
“You are so terrible at this. You’re raising my blood pressure.” Ezreal can’t take Kayn’s mild look while he loses his mind, so he lobs his pillow straight at his face. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Kayn dodges and the pillow flies into the wall instead, and he scoffs. “I don’t understand what your little head is conjuring up, but I would know a thing or two about being a failure.”
“You got kicked out. That definitely sounds like your fault,” Ezreal points out.
“Don’t say it so casually,” Kayn hisses. “I don’t really care what the public thinks. Those fuckers can look down on me all they want, but I’m the one on the stage and I’m the one the rest of the boys chose for this gig. Like you. I’m sure that has to mean something to you and your soft little heart. I’m sure they- I mean, of course, we all want the best for us together.”
“Together,” he murmurs. Kayn is right, he hates to admit it. Ezreal sags against the wall as if all the strings holding him up snapped. He goes quiet, letting his words marinate in his addled brain. Such a clear and simple answer for such complicated feelings. “Maybe I was getting stuck inside my head,” Ezreal eventually admits, toying with the blanket's corner.
“The ship only sinks if the water gets inside.” Kayn looks proud of himself, surely smug for saying something actually nice for once. His silly smirk lifts some of the weight off of Ezreal’s mood.
An incredulous laugh bubbles out of him. “You’re so stupid. You’re right, but do not let this get to your head. These things are not that simple!”
“Of course I’m right. And if you really think about it, it’s harder to be a one-hit wonder than a success. Congrats.”
“It’s even harder to get kicked out of a band.”
Kayn stands up and dusts his hands off. “My work here is done. Stop overthinking or else your pretty little head will pop. Later, loser.”
He pivots on his heel to head out but Ezreal chucks the eraser back at him, nailing him square in the head.
“Ow, fuck-”
“Leaving so soon? You were so happy to be here.”
“I’m leaving you to let you do the rest of your sad moping.” Claws scratch at the door. “And the dog needs to get out.”
Ezreal hums and nods slowly. “Oh, okay. Give him a treat for me,” he says.
Kayn lingers at the door, staring back at Ezreal with that mild look of his. Neither excited nor provoked – often the emotions Kayn favors most of the time – he seems to simply take Ezreal in. Ezreal feels like Kayn is always looking at him. He’s grown used to the weight of his gaze washing over his body, his face, the back of his head when he thinks Ezreal couldn’t possibly know.
Eventually, Kayn snorts. “You can’t get treats for nothing, Ez.”
And then he’s gone. Ezreal sighs and flops back down into bed, shoving his face into the mattress. It’s hot. He’s not even worried about their band stuff anymore. Maybe he’s more fickle than he realized.
“Of course not,” Ezreal answers to himself.
Ezreal fell into a deep slumber, exhausted from an early morning practice. He dreams of performing on stage with those hot, white lights beaming down on him, and a crowd stretching beyond his view. He dreams of paparazzi blinding him through his sunglasses, their shouting melding into an amp’s white noise. The taste of sweetness is brief.
He only wakes when a hand presses against his shoulder, firm and insistent. Darkness greets him when his eyes open and the visions slip from his memory. He can hardly make out the silhouette outlined by pale moonlight streaming through the window.
“Mm, what time is it?” He mumbles, soaking up the hand’s warmth. It moves up to his face and traces the curve of his cheek before stroking his hair. The movements are so gentle, Ezreal’s eyes flutter and threaten sleep once more.
“It’s dinner time. We’ve been calling for you.” It’s Kayn. “Get up already.”
It’s cruel how he says that and yet he continues to card his fingers through Ezreal’s hair, untangling the mess he made in his sleep. This part isn’t as smooth, his scalp stinging in pinpoint stabs, but Ezreal thinks it’s just like Kayn to do so. His body tingles as his fingernails scratch over his scalp.
“Five more m’ts,” he slurs.
“No.”
The pleasant moment ends abruptly the second Kayn yanks him up by the arm. His body follows like a ragdoll and Ezreal barely manages to get his feet on the floor before he collapses altogether. He stumbles right into Kayn’s arms.
Ezreal yelps. “Oh my god-”
The points where their bodies touch are frighteningly clear through the fog still clouding Ezreal’s head. Even Kayn’s face is near, he can feel it, the soft breath against his temple. He drops his head against Kayn’s shoulder just to avoid it and finds himself a comfy spot to close his eyes again.
“How nice of you to personally wake me up,” Ezreal mumbles blearily. “Lovely service ‘round here.”
“The sooner you get up, the sooner I get to eat.” He can hear the eye roll in his voice.
A spark of playfulness has Ezreal perking up and he says, “Mm, I don’t think so,” before wrapping his arms tight around Kayn’s waist. He feels him stiffen up like a board immediately. If only Kayn could see the shit-eating grin on his face right now.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Kayn says weakly.
“It’s called a hug, Kayn, have you tried it? Then again you look like you were never hugged as a child.”
Kayn scoffs. “And you look like somebody’s trust fund baby-”
“Thank you,” Ezreal cuts in, holding tighter as Kayn attempts to struggle out of his hold. “Thanks for earlier. Even though I know Yone kinda pushed you to do it, what you said helped me see the bigger picture. Really.”
The tension slowly bleeds out of his body. Ezreal jumps in surprise when one of Kayn’s arms wraps loosely around his shoulders. “It’s whatever. We’re bandmates now, right?”
“Yeah, we are.” He thinks of Alune, K’Sante, Yone, Sett, and Aphelios downstairs right now, their conversation indistinct like a dreamy murmur in the background, a song he can’t quite pin down. “I’ve never done this with other people beside me.”
“Well, it’s tough work, I’ll tell you that,” Kayn says lowly and Ezreal wonders what really happened to his past number. He made light of it earlier but the tone in his voice tells him there’s something he’s still hung up on, an uncommon occurrence for the ever unyielding Kayn. “It’s… not bad though,” Kayn admits quietly.
“You can say you like us, Kayn,” Ezreal teases, prompting Kayn to push out of their embrace. He imagines Kayn giving him a disgusted look.
“I would rather eat dog food,” Kayn spits dispassionately. “Now hurry it up.”
Ezreal follows him out with loud laughter to the kitchen where everyone is filling up their plates with food. He realizes just how hungry he is as the mouthwatering aroma of curry bathes him in spice. Yone makes a mean chicken curry.
“Hey, man,” Sett greets enthusiastically. “Had a good nap, huh? We were about to get started without you!”
“Rehearsal knocked me out I guess,” Ezreal says sheepishly. He piles up the curry over his rice before taking a seat at the island with Yone, finding the dining table packed already. Kayn scurries over to the couch with his own bowl but Yone is quick to scold him.
“If you spill on the upholstery you’re cleaning it up,” Yone warns.
Kayn merely makes a face and mocks him before yelling at him, “Can it!”
“Wouldn’t wanna miss this , Sett,” Ezreal comments and they all share a moment of warm laughter, Kayn unincluded.
As they settle, K’Sante speaks up. “Now is a great time to make some announcements about our future plans,” he starts. “Alune, Sett, and I have been arranging a contract with the venue to start filming the music video!”
And it wasn’t the only thing they’ve been working on. K’Sante and Sett ramble through the scheduling for the music video along with the logistics and timing, but Alune adds in a handful of interviews and sponsorships she’s been meticulously negotiating. Their Google calendar is becoming more and more robust by the minute.
“GQ?” Ezreal sputters. “Isn’t that kind of a big deal?”
“Haven’t you worked with GQ in the past?” Alune asks, alluding to the flurry of photoshoots Ezreal was subjected to in the past. He’s no stranger to the busy life of an idol.
“I have, and it was great!” Ezreal clarifies and throws his hands up. “But isn’t our boyband aesthetic, I don’t know, unfitting for their style?”
Aphelios is quick to tap on Sett’s shoulder to get their attention for him. He pulls out his phone quickly, searching for something for a second before revealing the screen to everyone. They all lean in.
He pulled up a fan account of Ezreal, full of his photoshoots. A number of magazine spreads, brand collaborations, and sponsorships to scroll through picture Ezreal in every position and expression possible. His alluring, boyish appeal stuns the crowd. Ezreal doesn’t mistake the small, breathy oh Yone mumbles to himself, prompting Ezreal’s face to shoot up in flames. He doesn’t even wanna turn and know what expression he’s making right now.
“Woah! I haven't even seen this one!”
“Oh, wow…”
Ezreal wants to walk into the ocean, but Aphelios does him one better and finds an early shot of Ezreal promoting a soda brand on the beach. He’s tanned, blonde, and oozing sex appeal in his little blue swim shorts. The sweating can of soda in his hand is nothing in comparison to the droplets rolling down Ezreal’s bare skin.
“Aphelios!” Ezreal yelps. He leaps out of his chair to try and seize the phone, but Aphelios tosses it to K’Sante who tosses it to Kayn, having come over to oggle the pictures as well. Ezreal chases Aphelios out of his seat and around the living room, ready to strangle his problems from the source.
“I think what Phel is trying to say,” Alune says between laughter, “is that we still have a lot of sides to us.”
“And a lot of skin ,” Kayn mumbles, busy sending a few posts to himself.
“Don’t worry, Ezreal, I’ll make sure things are comfortable and true to us,” Alune reassures. He’d feel comforted if only she weren’t also sending those posts to herself, humming happily like this didn’t just blow a hole in Ezreal’s pride.
Ezreal throws a weak thumbs-up. “Thanks, Alune,” he laments.
Dinner finishes up with excited chatter and promises of an eventful work week for them. Kayn is clipping his hair back and snapping his rubber dishwashing gloves on, hustling everyone for their dishes. Then they see Alune out the door, wishing her a safe drive home.
Ezreal catches sight of Yone’s slender back retreating to his room, and he walks quickly to catch up with him.
“Ezreal? Is something the matter?” He asks without stopping. He silently invites him inside to which Ezreal gleefully accepts. Yone is rather private, and Ezreal really only comes into his room to discuss and work on their song.
“Oh, no, the opposite actually.” Ezreal takes a seat on the edge of Yone’s bed while he sits at his desk. The room is spotless. “I wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me?” His eyebrows raise in interest.
“Yeah! I know I’ve been off recently, and it’s been affecting the way I act with you guys. Especially Kayn,” Ezreal admits. “I don’t hate him, and I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I was a little surprised that you would ask Kayn to come talk to me instead of Sett, but-”
“Right, of course,” Yone cuts him off. The intense stare he fixes is unsettling. “I’m interested to hear… what he said?”
“Oh! Well, he just gave me some encouragement and talked some sense into me, I guess,” Ezreal explains then immediately backtracks. “Oh, I’m sorry, maybe you didn’t want me to acknowledge that you had a say? I like you, Yone, but even I’m a little embarrassed to talk about my feelings to you… I’m still grateful! It worked out in the end! Um, Yone?”
He bounces his knee and tugs at a loose thread in the bedding, anticipating Yone’s response. Ezreal didn’t even consider that Yone might feel ashamed about their more distant relationship! At least it seems that way considering Yone’s bewildered look. Ezreal’s mind is going through all the ways he could bond with Yone – minus the morning meditation – when footsteps approach the room.
“Hey, I finished the fucking dishes,” Kayn announces and suddenly appears in the doorway. His eyes land on Ezreal and surprise flashes over his face, as if he’d never expect him here. “The fuck are you two doing?”
“We were just having a chat,” Yone says slowly, every word painstakingly punctuated. “Thank you, Kayn, for being mature and talking to Ezreal for me. I greatly appreciate it.”
Ezreal watches Kayn’s face rapidly turn stricken. He looks like he saw death crawl out of Yone’s mouth. “Uh-huh, no problem, goodnight,” Kayn rushes out and immediately backpedals out of view. They can hear him stomp up the stairs and slam the door.
Ezreal’s face scrunches up in confusion. He crosses his arms and comments, “He’s so weird. I’ve never heard him be so polite to you.”
“Mm, tell me about it.”
–
Saturday morning arrives quietly after the events of yesterday. They don’t practice together on Saturdays, although personal practice is strongly encouraged by Sett, and their meeting isn’t until the evening. Everybody had their own plans, but Kayn? He was attempting to finish the breakfast dishes before Yone dug his claws in him, but everyone just had to have a glass of juice, and a bowl of oatmeal, and a plate for eggs and sausage-
“So, how did your talk with Ezreal go?” Yone probes, standing over Kayn’s shoulder. His presence is menacing and Kayn can’t help the shudder that runs down his back.
“It went great, thanks for asking,” Kayn grits out. “Although, you seem to know exactly how it went.”
“You told him I asked you to talk to him.”
“And what about it, you control freak?”
“I warned you about this, Kayn. This is not something to be roundabout with.”
“What would an old man like you know?” He rasps. “Everything is fine without your meddling.”
Yone softens for a moment, the damn bastard. “I’m sure Ezreal would appreciate knowing you have his best interests at heart.”
Kayn stays silent, scrubbing a hole into a plate until Yone gives up and walks away.
“It’s not like I don’t know that,” Kayn mutters to himself, starting to rinse his sudsy dishes. “You don’t think so? Well, I know so and I can do whatever the hell I want with that knowledge… Don’t suggest something so ridiculous- I know they were alone together!”
“Kayn?” Ezreal asks as he’s coming down the stairs. “Who are you talking to?”
“Nobody,” Kayn growls out, but Ezreal just gives him an understanding hum. The hell does he know? He turns around to give him a piece of his mind but it goes blank as Ezreal stands there in his dog-walking outfit. There’s actually nothing special about it except- “The hell, I’m walking the dog in the morning.”
Ezreal merely lifts his eyebrow at him. “Uh, no you’re not? You’re taking him out before dinner.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You’re destroying the purpose of the schedule, Kayn. Sett works really hard on it.”
“Fuck the schedule, I’m coming with you then.”
“What?”
And that’s how Kayn and Ezreal both end up walking Earnest through the neighborhood, after seven rounds of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking up his poop. Kayn lost, but he would never admit that. They both wear hats to conceal their faces without being suspicious; Ezreal goes the extra mile to wear sunglasses. Kayn tries to argue he looks even more suspicious like that, but Ezreal doesn’t budge. The truth is that Kayn doubts anybody would approach Ezreal if they’re walking together, whether or not they’d even recognize Kayn himself.
“So, you talked to Yone?” Kayn trails off, hoping Ezreal would take the bait.
“Huh? Well, yeah,” Ezreal starts, glancing at him curiously. “I was just saying thank you. He’s so stern, but he’s actually pretty kind.”
“He’s a monster, Ez, don’t be fooled.” Kayn clicks his tongue. “So that’s it, huh…”
They’ve stopped to let Earnest pee so Ezreal takes the chance to get in Kayn’s face with a cheeky grin. “Why? You jealous I was in there? You looked so caught off guard.”
Kayn’s laughter reflects in the yellow tint of Ezreal’s sunglasses. “Jealous? No need to be jealous when you’re letting me into your room.”
And Ezreal, being the tough cookie he is, doesn’t falter into that red-faced, flustered state Kayn strives for. He merely rolls his eyes and bumps into his arm. “You’re actually just barging in and invading my privacy.”
“I’m making it our privacy,” Kayn sings, shoving him back.
They pass by the park and decide to indulge Earnest and let him play for a bit. There’s a couple of other dogs that they recognize from the neighborhood, and he immediately bounds over to them once he’s been unclipped from the lead.
Kayn and Ezreal stand in silence beneath the shade, watching over Earnest like two parents. Birds chatter in the trees above and dart in and out of their swaying branches. He drums up a pattern with his fingers against his thigh, pretending to accompany their song.
But there’s an unsettling prickle bothering Kayn, like they’re being watched. His eyes slide over to Ezreal who matches his questioning stare. Sure enough, two young women approach them from the side clutching their phones. Actually, they approach Ezreal specifically and up-close Kayn can definitely tell they’re fans; their poor little hands tremble and tuck their hair behind their ears over and over.
“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but are you Ezreal?” The woman with long dark hair asks, staring up at him with round doe eyes.
Ezreal is quick to turn on the charm and smiles brightly. He’s the spitting image of his posters. Kayn rolls his eyes. “You’re no bother at all! You caught me, I wasn’t expecting to see fans out here,” he says. “Would you like to take a picture?”
“Oh, yes, please! Thank you so much!” They squeal, shaking each other with excitement before turning to Kayn and shoving their phones at him. “Would you take our pictures, please?”
What is he, some side character? Kayn opens his mouth to spew something vile at them, but Ezreal punches his shoulder with a tight smile. “He would love to, right ?”
“...Right,” he spits and grabs their phones.
He has the unfortunate pleasure of taking a group picture, their individual pictures with Ezreal, and a short video of him saying, “Happy Birthday!” to their other friend. Kayn has never felt so bereft until this moment. He returns their phones and expects for them to leave, but they’ve trapped Ezreal in a never ending conversation. Kayn can only stand to the side and watch Ezreal nod and respond to their questions with cheer and enthusiasm.
Kayn has known of Ezreal for a while. The glossy debut poster hanging in his room can attest to that. He’s watched the interviews, the fan events, and the talk shows. His success dripped from every corner of the media. And yet Kayn, upon meeting him, had not expected the gaping disconnect Ezreal maintained from that part of his life. It was like a brilliant golden trophy he pretended wasn’t chained to his ankle and forced to drag around. It was a corpse and Ezreal didn’t hide the murder weapon.
Ezreal, in reality, was every bit the prince he was advertised to be. Even now, as Ezreal’s voice strains to speak fondly of his previous music with these women, he is genuine. Kayn despises this part of him. He has always been eager to tear it up.
He watches them with his lips pursed, curling and uncurling his fist as the blonde woman giggles at every little thing. Kayn’s concentration breaks when his phone vibrates in his pocket.
Yone: You didn’t finish the dishes. Where are you?
Perfect timing. Kayn slings his arm around Ezreal’s shoulders and pulls him into his side, abruptly ending their conversation. “Sorry, girls, I’m sure this was an interesting chat, but we’ve got business to attend,” he drawls, watching with satisfaction as their eyes dart between the two of them. “Ez, baby, there’s something waiting for us at home.”
Ezreal’s head snaps to Kayn and finds himself equally embarrassed as the women. He pinches his arm before Ezreal exposes their facade.
“Uh, right! Sorry to cut you off like this,” Ezreal plays along, smiling sheepishly. “But I’m really happy for your support!”
They apologize profusely and scurry off, whispering hurriedly to each other.
“He was kind of hot…”
“Who is he?”
Kayn sticks his tongue out at their retreating figures. “Fucking rude, they didn’t even recognize me! And I’ve been around longer than you, princey.”
When he looks back at Ezreal he’s met with an endearingly pink face, poorly concealed by his palm over his mouth. Warm satisfaction worms its way through Kayn’s chest and threatens to seize control of him. He could grab him right now and kiss him in broad daylight, consequences be damned… Kayn takes a breath.
“You… They’re gonna talk about this and spread rumors,” Ezreal huffs, adjusting his cap lower on his head.
“They were too obsessed with you to even bother with me, those fuckers. I’m not in any of the pictures even if they decide to yap,” Kayn reasons. They’ve been at the park long enough so he calls for the dog and clips him back up.
“Thanks,” Ezreal says as they’re walking out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “This is the second time you’ve helped me out.”
“‘s whatever, you just don’t know how to say no. You’re too nice.”
“It’s important to be nice,” Ezreal says sternly. He glances over at Kayn and nudges him. “You know, you’re nicer than you admit, Kayn.”
Kayn rolls his eyes. “That wasn’t me being nice! I was just, fucking, I don’t know…” He’s at a loss for words, unsure of really what to call his actions. Eventually, he says, “I just know what you’re like, that’s all.”
A low hum. Then Ezreal slowly slips his arm around Kayn’s like it was the most normal thing in the world. Kayn’s head spins, the shape of the sidewalk blurring momentarily.
“Thought you were worried about rumors?” He gruffs.
“We’re just two people walking a dog,” is his answer. His arm then falls away as if considering the truth to his words, then Ezreal’s fingers are poking at his hand instead. Kayn reveals his palm and Ezreal interlocks their fingers together loosely.
Kayn’s inner monologue halts before erupting into demonic chaos, but he stays calm and wills his legs to walk him home, gently tugged along by Ezreal and the dog. Kayn wants to hold him so badly , he thinks he’ll turn into a completely different person if Ezreal lets go right now. The eyes that Ezreal tries to hide from are exactly the kind of attention Kayn is hoping to attract and behold. Ezreal is selfish and cruel like that, pigeonholing Kayn into a quiet, tamed moment.
They're just two people walking a dog. Kayn could laugh. Not in shame but to suppress the surge in his chest, something waking up and reaching for the surface.
They make it a few minutes in quiet company before he asks, “Also, what’s waiting for us at home?”
“Yone.”
–
The park incident goes unspoken of, and nobody else hears about it either. They returned home, Kayn went back to his dishes, and Ezreal wiped the dog’s feet off. That was supposed to be the end of it except instead of dying in his memory it manifested into a habit, a habit that Ezreal does not remember creating. He reaches for Kayn’s fingers in the backseat of Yone’s car while Sett regales them with a tale of his childhood. And Kayn still antagonizes Ezreal, still barges into his room to pick fights and wake him up for dinner with hands that drown him.
The park incident doesn’t change much, Ezreal realizes one day. It’s a revelation that occurs when he’s tidying up the living room, stacking magazines and coasters to the side, and the gravity lies in how mundane it must be to feel unchanged and to feel the dust swept up under one finger. It must have quietly built up beneath everyone’s noses. This gray film coats everything.
Ezreal finds Aphelios still vacuuming his room when he comes up. He waits patiently for him to turn around and notice him in the doorway. The vacuum shuts off and sucks up all its noise.
“I can come back if you’re not done yet,” Ezreal says. “It feels cleaner already in here.”
Aphelios shakes his head. “All done,” he signs and starts wrapping up the cord.
Ezreal glances over at his desk where his sheet music has been neatly stacked – and organized in alphabetical order, Ezreal realizes as he flips through them. “Oh, you didn’t have to clean this up for me. Thanks, Phel.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Aphelios comes over and plucks a piece out. The ghosts of erased chords and lyrics lie beneath the permanency of black penmanship. “Your music is good. Especially this one. You wrote all of these?”
He can’t help but laugh. “I’m torn, Phel, that’s high praise coming from you but I don’t even think it’s that great.”
Aphelios merely rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to be humble with me.”
“I know, I’m not. They’re just some things I wrote while I was at my old label. Nothing came out of it, as you can see.”
“Share it with someone. Maybe you’ll see their worth.” Aphelios pinches his cheek and forces Ezreal to meet his eyes. “We’d be happy to make it happen for you.”
The pressure increases, forcing a painful yelp out of him. “Ow, ow, okay, I get it!”
Ezreal has to wrestle Aphelios off of him but apparently Aphelios hasn’t had enough of harassing him just yet, and they go tumbling for the floor in breathless laughter. Their hands go flying, attempting to both defend themselves and pinch and tickle the other. Aphelios may have the height advantage, but Ezreal has become something of an expert in scuffling with him. He’s got to get back at him for all his tricks somehow .
Ezreal manages to hook his leg around Aphelios’ and muscle his way up to flip him over. Their hands meet in a deadlock, Ezreal’s proud grin shining between their grips. Aphelios is contemplating his next move when the door slams open, and somehow Ezreal knows exactly who it is by force alone. Only Kayn would invite himself into his room like this. His scarlet eye is particularly scathing as his gaze darts between Ezreal and Aphelios, and all the muscles in his face scrunches in towards his eyebrows in obvious displeasure. The image of his face flickers just for a second.
“Movie starts at eight,” Kayn snaps and promptly leaves for his own room. His door bangs shut and loud rock music immediately starts up, reverberating all throughout the house.
Ezreal loosens his grip and sits up with an exasperated sigh. “What is his problem?”
Aphelios’ expression sours. “You don’t know?” He signs.
He chooses not to make eye contact with Aphelios, looking all around the room and trying not to think about Kayn’s deathgrip on the door handle. “I mean, no, but maybe? I don’t want to make assumptions, Phel.”
“You’re playing hard to get,” Aphelios accuses.
“I am not, and I don’t like what you’re implying,” Ezreal protests. “Whatever Kayn has going on and is making him moody is not my problem. He just gets like that sometimes.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“I’ll throttle you.”
He throws Aphelios out of his room before he starts picking apart his relationship with Kayn. All he likes to do is stir up trouble, and that’s the one thing Ezreal has been trying to avoid. The band has been in countless meetings and recording sessions to hit the ground running once filming starts. Everyone’s been putting in their hard work for their big moment, and Ezreal isn’t gonna let Aphelios’ meddling fingers get him sidetracked. Nothing has changed between him and Kayn.
When Ezreal finally wanders down to the living room ten minutes before 8 o’clock, K’Sante is flicking through Netflix while Sett makes a big deal about the snacks with Alune. Salty, buttery goodness wafts from the kitchen, coating the back of his throat. He’s quick to claim the corner of the couch before he gets roped into doing something and wiggles deep into the cushion.
“What’re we watching?” Ezreal asks, stealing the couch blanket for himself as well.
“Something good I hope,” Kayn answers, stomping down the stairs. His dark hair is a mess, and his bare arms are freshly indented by his sheets. Even the way he trudges through the kitchen is dulled by his sleepiness. Ezreal lets out a small breath of relief..
K’Sante just laughs good-naturedly. “Does it matter if you’re going to fall asleep anyway?” He teases.
He eventually settles on something recent and action-filled with the help of Yone, and the opening credits finally start to roll. Kayn has triumphantly snagged himself his own bowl of popcorn and instead of picking any of the other spots, plants himself right next to Ezreal. An offending piece of popcorn bounces its way into Ezreal’s lap; Kayn has the audacity to pluck it and toss it into his mouth. The lights go out so he misses the incredulous look Ezreal gives him.
“You couldn’t have sat anywhere else? Why are you right here?” Ezreal whispers angrily.
“I always sit here, you’re the one in my spot.”
“I got here first!”
“Well, maybe you should just move!”
“Me move? You move!”
“If you’re not moving then shut up!”
Ezreal has no time to react to a handful of popcorn shoved messily into his mouth, stuffing his words right up. He mumbles around the kernels but chews anyway. Kayn keeps his mouth sealed until he swallows, then leans in with a dangerous grin.
“Good boy,” he whispers.
So Ezreal doesn’t move, and neither does Kayn, and for the duration of the movie they share both the blanket and the single corner of the couch. Somewhere in between yelling at the male protagonist and booing the lack of mech realism, their bodies fold into a comfortable position leaning against each other. Watching a movie with everyone present is less of a theater experience and more of an open discussion and debate. Ezreal forgets Kayn’s offense and indulges in the chattering conversation.
Kayn worked himself up after the movie’s climax fell flat and stretched across Ezreal’s body to prop his head up on the armrest, muttering to himself. He’s heavy and radiating a summer kind of heat, and hogging all the popcorn, but Ezreal is entranced with the sight of Kayn’s bare neck. There’s no black choker or chain blocking his view, just pale skin from being hidden beneath hair and jewelry. A tense moment between the protagonist and his girlfriend plays before them, hushing even the most vocal viewers, and Ezreal is right there with them, caught by such a vulnerable display.
Ezreal reaches for his nape, possessed, and Kayn’s reaction is immediate when fingertips brush his skin, soft like a petal. His body jerks and stills immediately, trying not to draw attention. Kayn turns back to glare at him. Instead of feeling threatened, Ezreal has to suppress a laugh because Kayn’s red eye is glowing in the dark. It’s so ridiculous he turns Kayn’s head back himself before he can see him giggling.
“The fuck,” Kayn mumbles, none the wiser.
The movie is graciously given three stars out of five when it ends, although everyone agrees to never watch it again.
“You are all such harsh critics,” Alune criticizes as she’s heading out the door.
“Film is to be criticized,” Yone reasons, and all the guys murmur in agreement.
“Well, I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Great work earlier,” she praises.
Once the door shuts the reality of watching a movie late at night hits immediately. Aphelios doesn’t even say goodnight before disappearing for bed. Yone turns to Kayn and Ezreal who remained on the couch, too drowsy to move. “Are you two staying up?” He asks, waving the TV remote.
“Mm, I dunno,” Ezreal drawls. “Give it here.”
Yone leaves it on the corner of the table for them before leaving for his room. “Don’t forget the dishes, Kayn,” he reminds between a yawn. “Goodnight.”
They wish him goodnight and wait for his door to sound shut. They’re alone in their dark living room, small in their huddle while the ceiling stretches above them, untouched by the TV’s pale light. Everyone had dispersed so quickly it feels so empty now.
Ezreal glances down at Kayn sprawled out on his lap. “You’re heavy as fuck,” he complains.
“You’re noisy as fuck,” he snaps back.
“You’re the one who wouldn’t shut up.”
“Yeah? And what did you do about it? Nothing.”
It’s not an invitation. It’s not even a provocation. But Ezreal is tired and warm and weak when Kayn decides to tease him. When Ezreal grabs Kayn by the collar and yanks him up halfway to smash their lips together, it’s merely a rebuttal, a game-saving throw to win this little exchange because everything is about getting ahead of each other. He keeps his eyes open just to prove this to Kayn and finds victory in his wide, blown out stare. It doesn’t register that they’re actually kissing until Ezreal’s strength wavers and he drops Kayn like a rock. Ezreal jerks back into the couch, slapping a hand over his mouth, still tingling.
“Kayn-”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t mean it,” Kayn rasps, sitting up and crowding him in. Ezreal is suddenly reminded of Kayn’s sheer bulk the way he eclipses the TV’s light. “You don’t get to fucking say that.”
“What am I supposed to say?” Ezreal says and hates that his voice wavers.
There’s an obvious answer, weighed down by Kayn’s heavy stare. Aphelios’ earlier comment creeps up on him, circling his brain and teasing his nerves. Ezreal refuses to venture there, but he quickly realizes he’s already stuck his foot in.
“I… didn’t not mean it,” he offers pathetically, placing a hand on Kayn’s chest – to create distance or to ground himself, he’s not entirely sure.
What kind of expression is he making? Ezreal has asked himself this of Kayn more times than he could count. And now, it’s so strikingly clear: a distinct hunger, a desperation highlighted with taut discernment. Ezreal hates the reflection of himself in his look.
He’s a hypocrite.
“Kiss me. I want you to kiss me,” Ezreal whispers, because it’s a secret.
He watches Kayn melt into his confession, fallen under his spell, and leans down to speak against his lips. “Honesty gets rewarded, Ez.”
“Not a dog,” is all he can get out before Kayn is sealing his lips over his own.
Ezreal’s mind goes blank. Kayn’s way of kissing is exactly the way he’d expected it; insistent, bold, and feverish. He sucks his bottom lip until it stings before licking his way into Ezreal’s mouth, his tongue tracing over his teeth. His hands are quick to get busy too, carding one hand through his hair and the other slips behind his back to hold him tightly around the waist. Kayn’s hands have always been a weakness for him and just the vast space that they take up on his own body now makes him dizzy.
Ezreal reaches for him, locking his hands behind his head as he struggles to keep up with Kayn’s pace. It’s wet and messy, but Ezreal keeps coming back for more, pushing his tongue against Kayn’s until he lets him in.
Kayn’s hand slips behind his neck and teases his nape with warm fingers, a mimic of Ezreal’s earlier stunt, and Ezreal is forced to break the kiss, throwing his head to the side as sensitivity sparks up his spine. The look Kayn gives him with his blown-out pupils is somewhere between wonder and feral.
“I could do other things to you,” Kayn mumbles into his mouth, teasing the corner of his lips with his tongue.
Ezreal can hardly focus. “I don’t think we’re there yet,” he breathes.
“When do we get there, hm? I’m expediting it.”
“God, shut up.” Ezreal seals his lips over Kayn’s and receives a low groan in response.
He feels like he’s burning up from the inside and Kayn is only fanning the flames, driving him crazy. He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought of Kayn like this, hot and eager to please, but it felt so wrong, he tried to bury it beneath the less explicit thoughts. All his carefully guarded proprieties regarding Kayn have flown out the window.
Ezreal drags a hand down Kayn’s arm, groping unashamedly at his muscles before sliding them beneath his shirt. Firm muscles greet him there too, and Ezreal can feel the shuddering breath he takes beneath his fingertips. He treats Kayn to a hot open-mouthed kiss as he smooths his palm over Kayn’s chest and revels in the small, quiet whine he lets out.
Feeling the shift in Ezreal’s attitude towards vying for control, Kayn follows suit and drags both of his hands up his shirt. He circles his nipples with thumbs, drawing a muffled moan out of Ezreal, before pinching and rolling them between his fingers. Ezreal’s leg jerks from the unexpected sensation and Kayn grins deviously in response.
Kayn focuses on riling him up with sly fingers, still occupied with kissing him quiet. But Ezreal freezes suddenly, and pulls away at the faint jangle of keys just outside the front door. The door handle is jiggling, but Kayn is oblivious to it, setting his sights for Ezreal’s neck instead.
“Kayn- Alune is-”
Ezreal drops his body flat to the couch the moment Alune walks through the door. It’s a stupid move, the couch is in plain view of the door and he’s breathing so hard there’s no way she wouldn’t notice. Her silhouette stops at the entrance. Alune stares into the darkness and only manages to recognize Kayn’s red eye, glowing with color.
“Oh, you’re still awake, Kayn?”
Kayn has managed to sit up straight and pretends to fix the blanket, discreetly covering Ezreal. He coughs. “Uh, yeah, I am. What’re you doing here?”
“I just left some documents here,” she says with an embarrassed laugh. “I need to work on them tonight.”
“Oh, I see…”
They listen quietly to Alune moving around the kitchen. Her keychains jingle with every movement.
“You know, we’re not that far away from the big day. Aren’t you excited? Oh, I guess you would know about that more than I do.”
“‘s no big deal,” Kayn mutters, doing the bare minimum of keeping up this conversation. “The music scene is happy to have us.”
“I figured you’d say that.” Alune seems to have found her documents. She shuffles through the papers then pauses. “I don’t know if this is the right time to say this, but I’m really happy for you guys. There’s something really special between all of you. I can see it in Aphelios. I think he’s changed for the better.”
Ezreal blinks in the darkness, feeling a thick lump rise in his chest. Her gentle voice is coaxing up the bile Kayn has managed to suppress time and time again.
“I hope you all stay together for a long time, okay? I really do believe you’ll accomplish great things.”
“Thanks,” Kayn says simply.
She bids him goodnight one last time and then shuts the door with a resolute click .
“Ez?”
No response.
“I can hear your dumb little head thinking.”
“I’m always thinking, unlike you.”
Ezreal feels a hand rest on his thigh. Kayn’s palms are wide, his fingers long. “You’re so predictable,” Kayn says. “You think this will affect the group.”
“Would it not?”
“I was under the impression you just enjoyed the act of hating me.”
“I do hate you. And you hate me. And that’s how it’s supposed to be.”
“That’s the dumbest reason I’ve ever heard of,” Kayn spits.
“Well, I can’t help it!” Ezreal shouts back. He immediately quiets down, realizing his volume. “I’m not like you, Kayn.”
“You don’t have to be.” Kayn sighs in exasperation. He wraps his hand around Ezreal’s arm and pulls him up to look at him directly. “After the release date.”
“What about it?”
“You get to decide after the release date whether we’re successful enough for this to work out.”
Ezreal laughs nervously. “You’re telling me you’re going to wait for me? How uncharacteristically charming of you.”
“The fuck do you think I’ve been doing this whole time?”
His mouth clamps shut because all of a sudden everything makes sense. “Oh.”
“I'm serious. If it's the fucking band standing in the way then nothing else I say or do is gonna make you crawl into my lap.” Ezreal’s face burns incredibly hot. “So I’ll just let the numbers do the talking.”
Ezreal only has to consider his proposition for a moment. His head is still reeling at the fact that maybe Aphelios was right, and that to Kayn at least, he was stringing him along. He doesn't have the courage right now to defend himself and tell Kayn it wasn't like that – that he thinks about his touch when he's cleaning alone, or that he can hear his low, rumbling voice when his chest feels tight. Ezreal had never put a name to those feelings but they're real nonetheless.
“Okay,” Ezreal agrees, swallowing his nerves down. “After then, I promise.”
Ezreal thinks Kayn may have thought he wouldn't agree as his mouth parts in silent surprise before giving way to a cheeky grin. He topples Ezreal over, ignoring his shout and caging him in between his hands planted beside his head. Ezreal is reminded of a dog wanting to play, fascinated by a new game, a new toy. He won't be chewed up so easily, but Ezreal’s chest is full and a wondrous breath leaves him for the stars in Kayn’s expression, so he'll let Kayn think otherwise. He's brimming with poorly contained happiness, trying to retain his pride as a bad-mouthed rockstar, but Ezreal knows better. Kayn is just as weak to Ezreal as he is to him.
Kayn takes advantage of Ezreal’s gawking and swoops down and steals a firm kiss from him. It leaves him breathless.
“Hey,” Ezreal protests weakly, failing to keep his smile away, “we didn't agree on this.”
He shrugs and throws his words back at him. “We didn't not agree on it.”
Ezreal somehow feels like he lost this round.