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[FIC]: i'll just find my love.
i'll just find my love, pg-13, jinyoung/zico.
you're my superstar.
my heart is lonely
i can't stand it anymore, the moment i find you
it's over
where are you? where is my love
you're my only shooting star
my everything
you're somewhere, waiting for me
b1a4, "my love"
I'LL JUST FIND MY LOVE
jinyoung/zico
“You look like an idiot,” Kyung says, leaning over the back of Zico’s chair and trying to get a glimpse of his cell phone screen. To be fair, Zico’s been sitting in the exact same place for the last ten minutes, texting someone with a dopey grin on his face—it’s exactly the kind of behavior that makes a best friend curious, and Kyung is nothing but attentive. “Who are you texting? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”
“Fuck off,” Zico says, reaching up to shove Kyung’s face without even turning away from his phone. “Neither. I’m texting Jinyoungie.”
Kyung pauses, his cheek pressed to Zico’s palm, and says, “Jinyoungie?” He circles around Zico’s chair to lean against the table, avoiding cups of coffee and sheets of lyrics when he braces his hands. “Not hyung? Not Jingyoung-ssi? Jinyoungie?”
Woo Jiho does not blush, but it’s a close thing. “He said we should be informal with each other,” he says, too defensive, and Kyung levels a look at him. Zico meets his eyes without flinching, but Kyung has been his best friend for years, and part of being a best friend is that you learn how to see through each other’s bullshit.
“Oh, man,” Kyung says, laughing. “You’re really fucked.”
Zico sinks down in his chair. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”
He meets Jinyoung for coffee on a rare day of few schedules. Hats on, facemasks at the ready (though Zico is much less noticeable without the dreads), they pick up drinks—latte for Jinyoung, black coffee for Zico—and occupy a table in the corner of the cafe, far enough removed that their conversation can go unheard. Zico’s not the type to particularly worry about whether people notice him—he’s loud enough that it happens whether he wants it to or not—but he likes the privacy when he’s with Jinyoung.
“I’ve been monitoring your Match Up in Japan episodes,” Jinyoung says. His fingers are wrapped around his latte, keeping himself warm. He has pianist’s fingers, Zico thinks, graceful. It almost makes him wish he was like Sanchez hyung, obsessive Instagram user, so he could capture the image and keep it stored away.
But that would make it less personal. Less private. Zico can be selfish about things like this.
“I didn’t know you were such a masochist,” Zico says, instead of any of the things he’s thinking. “You guys are done with promotions, right? For Beautiful Target?”
Jinyoung laughs and shakes his head, but he looks pleased. Maybe at the fact that Zico knows their comeback track, or maybe because of the implication that he’d been monitoring their performances (he had). “We finished, yeah,” he says. “Now we’re just... in limbo, kind of.”
“Zoom zoom,” Zico says. “Big plans for a repackage?”
“It’s a secret.” Jinyoung stifles a smile and zips his lips. “You can wait to find out like the rest of BANA.”
“Hey,” Zico says, even though Jinyoung is already laughing, mouth hidden behind his hand and shoulders shaking, “hey, I’m not a BANA—what are you laughing at!” Jinyoung puts his forehead down on the table, and Zico stares at him, trying to look affronted and memorizing the curve of Jinyoung’s smile. “I’m never monitoring your performances again,” he finally says, and sends Jinyoung into fresh peals of laughter.
They sit in the cafe and talk for a couple of hours, until Jinyoung’s manager calls him and tells him he has to come home. “Jiho-yah,” Jinyoung says, catching Zico’s wrist when they step outside the cafe. “I’m glad we got to hang out today.”
It takes Zico a second to answer—he’s distracted by the way that Jinyoung’s fingers are burning brands into his skin. “Me, too,” he says, eventually, bringing his gaze up to meet Jinyoung’s. “We should try to take less than two months next time.”
Jinyoung smiles and lets go of Zico’s wrist. “I like that idea,” he says.
When Zico gets back to the dorm, Kyung is sprawled out on the floor in the living room, scrawling rap lyrics on the back of a shopping list. “How was Jinyoungie?” he asks.
Zico sighs. “I’m really fucked,” he replies.
Kyung sits up and looks at him, at the cell phone still clutched in his hand, the expression of abject puppy love on his face. “Yeah, man, you are,” he agrees, and hands Zico the rest of his soda like maybe it will make the crush go away.
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:34): jiho-yah~ good morning ㅋㅋ
z i 다음은 c o (6:37): how can you possibly be this cheerful when sun isn’t even up yet
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:34): i don’t photosynthesize, jiho-yah!
z i 다음은 c o (6:37): are you human.
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:39): maybe O___O
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:40): jiho-yah.
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:40): what are you doing tonight~?
z i 다음은 c o (6:42): probably gonna be at the studio all night. why?
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:43): monitor our performance tonight ㅋㅋ it’s our repackage! ...kinda.
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:44): anyway just watch it okay ㅋ hyung will be thinking of you~
z i 다음은 c o (6:45): on music bank?
z i 다음은 c o (6:45): uhh okay...
z i 다음은 c o (6:45): has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of weird?
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:46): you tell me all the time, jiho-yah~
jinyoungie hyung ♥ is offline at 6:46 am
Hanhae drops by the studio midway through the afternoon and basically commandeers it for a track he’s been thinking about laying down for Phantom, which leaves Zico with time on his hands and nothing to do with it. He could go back to the dorm and sleep before Music Bank airs, but then of course he runs the risk of sleeping through it, which he does sometimes when he’s been up for three days and is running on fumes.
“Yo,” Hanhae says, snapping fingers in front of Zico’s face. “Man, I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but the expression on your face is giving me a headache.”
“Sorry.” Zico scrubs a hand over his face, digs the heel of his hand into his eye until color explodes behind his retina. “Can’t decide what to do with my afternoon, since your asshole self is taking over this place.”
Hanhae raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you promise your boyfriend you’d watch him on Music Bank?”
Zico chokes on saliva. “He’s not my boyf—I’m gonna kick Kyung in the nuts.” Leave it to the best friend to spill the beans on everything. Granted, Zico never specifically told Kyung to keep his mouth shut, but some of these things should go without saying.
“Sure, sure,” Hanhae says, patting Zico on the shoulder. “You know you have like thirty minutes before prerecording starts. Just go down to the broadcast building.”
Halfway through formulating a list of reasons why he can’t actually do that (“work”, “tired”, etc.), Zico pauses and looks at Hanhae like he’s grown a second head. “Whatever you think you know,” he says, “you don’t. Know it. Just so we’re clear on that.”
“So you don’t actually have a crush like Jupiter on the skinny kid from B1A4,” Hanhae says, “and he doesn’t really want you to watch his performance tonight?”
Both of these things are true. Zico shuts up.
“Just get out of here, I’m sick of looking at your lovestruck ass,” Hanhae says, hauling him bodily out of the chair and shoving him towards the door. (Later, Zico will thank him for this.)
Fifty minutes later, Zico’s backstage at KBS, keeping an eye out for Jinyoung and trying not to worry about the fact that he’s basically acting like a sneaky boyfriend. When Jinyoung said ‘watch our performance tonight,’ he probably didn’t mean ‘come down to KBS broadcasting hall and watch our performance in person,’ and Zico is honestly beginning to have second thoughts about this entire plan of action. He’s already sat through three prerecordings for groups he’s only heard of once or twice, girl groups and solo artists, and yeah, this was probably a mistake.
“Sandeul-ah!” Jinyoung shouts from somewhere down the hall. Zico jumps practically out of his skin and ducks into an empty dressing room just as B1A4 comes walking toward the stage door. Their styling is apparently some kind of rocker-chic thing, and it’s funny—Jinyoung has great stage presence, but offstage, like this, with that smile, he looks like a straight-edge kid playing in his punk brother’s closet. It’s endearing as hell. Zico grins.
“Hyung,” one of the members says—Gongchan, Zico thinks. “Do you really think this plan is going to work?”
Jinyoung shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “It doesn’t really matter, okay? Let’s just go up and show our best stage and I’ll worry about that later.”
“What if he doesn’t watch?”
“Sunwoo-yah,” Jinyoung says, smiling. “I’ll worry about it later.”
Even when they were filming Match Up, Zico never really got to see Jinyoung act as a leader. Somehow, it doesn’t surprise him that Jinyoung is just as gentle and soft and beautiful with his members as he is with anyone else, because Zico doesn’t think that Jinyoung has it in him to be disingenuous.
(What if he doesn’t watch it, Zico thinks, and then, does that mean me?)
“Come on,” a staff member says, ushering them in. As soon as they’ve disappeared into the wings, Zico emerges from his place in the empty dressing room and sneaks through the stage door after them, heading out toward the audience so he can see the stage.
Zico owns the mini-album, so he recognizes the song as “My Love.” He didn’t realize they’d be promoting it, but then again, Jinyoung had been very mum on the subject when they’d met up for coffee those weeks ago—hadn’t wanted to give up the surprise, maybe. Hyung will be thinking of you. What was that supposed to mean?
For the first time, Zico listens to the lyrics: When I see you, my heart, my whole body, it feels like it’s all stopped working—but it’s okay, if I can see you.
“Shit,” Zico mutters, drawing an accusatory stare from a nearby fan. “I guess I’m not as fucked as I thought.”
When B1A4 comes back through the stage door, Zico is there leaning against the wall. He reaches out and grabs the back of Jinyoung’s jacket as he passes by, hauling him out of line. “Jiho-yah,” Jinyoung says, obviously surprised—he must not have expected this. Probably expected a couple of days of downtime before he had to her from Zico at all. “What are you doing here?”
“Monitoring your performance,” Zico says. “Obviously.”
Jinyoung pulls his jacket out of Zico’s grip and smooths it down, a nervous gesture. “Oh,” he says. “So, what’d you think?”
“I think... that you should come with me.”
Jinyoung doesn’t look like he’s sure following Zico is a good idea, but he goes anyway. There’s a stairwell nearby, and Zico pulls Jinyoung into it, closing the door behind them and muffling the sounds of managers and broadcast staff shouting at each other. “Were you confessing to me?” Zico demands. He probably sounds tenser than he means to, but he is tense, full of nervous anticipation. Nerves. It’s been a while since he felt like this. “Is that what you meant when you said you’d be thinking of me?”
Jinyoung won’t quite meet his eyes. “Jiho-yah,” he says, then falls quiet. Zico has never been so thankful for someone’s inability to tell a lie.
“Good,” he says. He grabs Jinyoung by the collar and pulls him in, kisses him like they’re not idols, like this isn’t a major broadcasting network, like there’s nothing to worry about in the world besides this and them. And Jinyoung—Jinyoung kisses him back, arms around his shoulders, fingers in his hair. Zico doesn’t think he could be that much more satisfied.
“You know,” he says after a minute, pulling back, “this was cute, and charming and everything, but you coulda just told me.”
“I could have,” Jinyoung agrees, fighting back a grin, “but then I wouldn’t have been able to watch you try really hard not to like me for the last couple of months.”
Zico blinks, mouth open, and then says, “Wait a second—”
But Jinyoung is laughing, open and happy, and Zico can’t find it in him to be mad, after all.
you're my superstar.
my heart is lonely
i can't stand it anymore, the moment i find you
it's over
where are you? where is my love
you're my only shooting star
my everything
you're somewhere, waiting for me
b1a4, "my love"
I'LL JUST FIND MY LOVE
jinyoung/zico
“You look like an idiot,” Kyung says, leaning over the back of Zico’s chair and trying to get a glimpse of his cell phone screen. To be fair, Zico’s been sitting in the exact same place for the last ten minutes, texting someone with a dopey grin on his face—it’s exactly the kind of behavior that makes a best friend curious, and Kyung is nothing but attentive. “Who are you texting? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”
“Fuck off,” Zico says, reaching up to shove Kyung’s face without even turning away from his phone. “Neither. I’m texting Jinyoungie.”
Kyung pauses, his cheek pressed to Zico’s palm, and says, “Jinyoungie?” He circles around Zico’s chair to lean against the table, avoiding cups of coffee and sheets of lyrics when he braces his hands. “Not hyung? Not Jingyoung-ssi? Jinyoungie?”
Woo Jiho does not blush, but it’s a close thing. “He said we should be informal with each other,” he says, too defensive, and Kyung levels a look at him. Zico meets his eyes without flinching, but Kyung has been his best friend for years, and part of being a best friend is that you learn how to see through each other’s bullshit.
“Oh, man,” Kyung says, laughing. “You’re really fucked.”
Zico sinks down in his chair. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”
He meets Jinyoung for coffee on a rare day of few schedules. Hats on, facemasks at the ready (though Zico is much less noticeable without the dreads), they pick up drinks—latte for Jinyoung, black coffee for Zico—and occupy a table in the corner of the cafe, far enough removed that their conversation can go unheard. Zico’s not the type to particularly worry about whether people notice him—he’s loud enough that it happens whether he wants it to or not—but he likes the privacy when he’s with Jinyoung.
“I’ve been monitoring your Match Up in Japan episodes,” Jinyoung says. His fingers are wrapped around his latte, keeping himself warm. He has pianist’s fingers, Zico thinks, graceful. It almost makes him wish he was like Sanchez hyung, obsessive Instagram user, so he could capture the image and keep it stored away.
But that would make it less personal. Less private. Zico can be selfish about things like this.
“I didn’t know you were such a masochist,” Zico says, instead of any of the things he’s thinking. “You guys are done with promotions, right? For Beautiful Target?”
Jinyoung laughs and shakes his head, but he looks pleased. Maybe at the fact that Zico knows their comeback track, or maybe because of the implication that he’d been monitoring their performances (he had). “We finished, yeah,” he says. “Now we’re just... in limbo, kind of.”
“Zoom zoom,” Zico says. “Big plans for a repackage?”
“It’s a secret.” Jinyoung stifles a smile and zips his lips. “You can wait to find out like the rest of BANA.”
“Hey,” Zico says, even though Jinyoung is already laughing, mouth hidden behind his hand and shoulders shaking, “hey, I’m not a BANA—what are you laughing at!” Jinyoung puts his forehead down on the table, and Zico stares at him, trying to look affronted and memorizing the curve of Jinyoung’s smile. “I’m never monitoring your performances again,” he finally says, and sends Jinyoung into fresh peals of laughter.
They sit in the cafe and talk for a couple of hours, until Jinyoung’s manager calls him and tells him he has to come home. “Jiho-yah,” Jinyoung says, catching Zico’s wrist when they step outside the cafe. “I’m glad we got to hang out today.”
It takes Zico a second to answer—he’s distracted by the way that Jinyoung’s fingers are burning brands into his skin. “Me, too,” he says, eventually, bringing his gaze up to meet Jinyoung’s. “We should try to take less than two months next time.”
Jinyoung smiles and lets go of Zico’s wrist. “I like that idea,” he says.
When Zico gets back to the dorm, Kyung is sprawled out on the floor in the living room, scrawling rap lyrics on the back of a shopping list. “How was Jinyoungie?” he asks.
Zico sighs. “I’m really fucked,” he replies.
Kyung sits up and looks at him, at the cell phone still clutched in his hand, the expression of abject puppy love on his face. “Yeah, man, you are,” he agrees, and hands Zico the rest of his soda like maybe it will make the crush go away.
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:34): jiho-yah~ good morning ㅋㅋ
z i 다음은 c o (6:37): how can you possibly be this cheerful when sun isn’t even up yet
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:34): i don’t photosynthesize, jiho-yah!
z i 다음은 c o (6:37): are you human.
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:39): maybe O___O
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:40): jiho-yah.
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:40): what are you doing tonight~?
z i 다음은 c o (6:42): probably gonna be at the studio all night. why?
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:43): monitor our performance tonight ㅋㅋ it’s our repackage! ...kinda.
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:44): anyway just watch it okay ㅋ hyung will be thinking of you~
z i 다음은 c o (6:45): on music bank?
z i 다음은 c o (6:45): uhh okay...
z i 다음은 c o (6:45): has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of weird?
jinyoungie hyung ♥ (6:46): you tell me all the time, jiho-yah~
jinyoungie hyung ♥ is offline at 6:46 am
Hanhae drops by the studio midway through the afternoon and basically commandeers it for a track he’s been thinking about laying down for Phantom, which leaves Zico with time on his hands and nothing to do with it. He could go back to the dorm and sleep before Music Bank airs, but then of course he runs the risk of sleeping through it, which he does sometimes when he’s been up for three days and is running on fumes.
“Yo,” Hanhae says, snapping fingers in front of Zico’s face. “Man, I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but the expression on your face is giving me a headache.”
“Sorry.” Zico scrubs a hand over his face, digs the heel of his hand into his eye until color explodes behind his retina. “Can’t decide what to do with my afternoon, since your asshole self is taking over this place.”
Hanhae raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you promise your boyfriend you’d watch him on Music Bank?”
Zico chokes on saliva. “He’s not my boyf—I’m gonna kick Kyung in the nuts.” Leave it to the best friend to spill the beans on everything. Granted, Zico never specifically told Kyung to keep his mouth shut, but some of these things should go without saying.
“Sure, sure,” Hanhae says, patting Zico on the shoulder. “You know you have like thirty minutes before prerecording starts. Just go down to the broadcast building.”
Halfway through formulating a list of reasons why he can’t actually do that (“work”, “tired”, etc.), Zico pauses and looks at Hanhae like he’s grown a second head. “Whatever you think you know,” he says, “you don’t. Know it. Just so we’re clear on that.”
“So you don’t actually have a crush like Jupiter on the skinny kid from B1A4,” Hanhae says, “and he doesn’t really want you to watch his performance tonight?”
Both of these things are true. Zico shuts up.
“Just get out of here, I’m sick of looking at your lovestruck ass,” Hanhae says, hauling him bodily out of the chair and shoving him towards the door. (Later, Zico will thank him for this.)
Fifty minutes later, Zico’s backstage at KBS, keeping an eye out for Jinyoung and trying not to worry about the fact that he’s basically acting like a sneaky boyfriend. When Jinyoung said ‘watch our performance tonight,’ he probably didn’t mean ‘come down to KBS broadcasting hall and watch our performance in person,’ and Zico is honestly beginning to have second thoughts about this entire plan of action. He’s already sat through three prerecordings for groups he’s only heard of once or twice, girl groups and solo artists, and yeah, this was probably a mistake.
“Sandeul-ah!” Jinyoung shouts from somewhere down the hall. Zico jumps practically out of his skin and ducks into an empty dressing room just as B1A4 comes walking toward the stage door. Their styling is apparently some kind of rocker-chic thing, and it’s funny—Jinyoung has great stage presence, but offstage, like this, with that smile, he looks like a straight-edge kid playing in his punk brother’s closet. It’s endearing as hell. Zico grins.
“Hyung,” one of the members says—Gongchan, Zico thinks. “Do you really think this plan is going to work?”
Jinyoung shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “It doesn’t really matter, okay? Let’s just go up and show our best stage and I’ll worry about that later.”
“What if he doesn’t watch?”
“Sunwoo-yah,” Jinyoung says, smiling. “I’ll worry about it later.”
Even when they were filming Match Up, Zico never really got to see Jinyoung act as a leader. Somehow, it doesn’t surprise him that Jinyoung is just as gentle and soft and beautiful with his members as he is with anyone else, because Zico doesn’t think that Jinyoung has it in him to be disingenuous.
(What if he doesn’t watch it, Zico thinks, and then, does that mean me?)
“Come on,” a staff member says, ushering them in. As soon as they’ve disappeared into the wings, Zico emerges from his place in the empty dressing room and sneaks through the stage door after them, heading out toward the audience so he can see the stage.
Zico owns the mini-album, so he recognizes the song as “My Love.” He didn’t realize they’d be promoting it, but then again, Jinyoung had been very mum on the subject when they’d met up for coffee those weeks ago—hadn’t wanted to give up the surprise, maybe. Hyung will be thinking of you. What was that supposed to mean?
For the first time, Zico listens to the lyrics: When I see you, my heart, my whole body, it feels like it’s all stopped working—but it’s okay, if I can see you.
“Shit,” Zico mutters, drawing an accusatory stare from a nearby fan. “I guess I’m not as fucked as I thought.”
When B1A4 comes back through the stage door, Zico is there leaning against the wall. He reaches out and grabs the back of Jinyoung’s jacket as he passes by, hauling him out of line. “Jiho-yah,” Jinyoung says, obviously surprised—he must not have expected this. Probably expected a couple of days of downtime before he had to her from Zico at all. “What are you doing here?”
“Monitoring your performance,” Zico says. “Obviously.”
Jinyoung pulls his jacket out of Zico’s grip and smooths it down, a nervous gesture. “Oh,” he says. “So, what’d you think?”
“I think... that you should come with me.”
Jinyoung doesn’t look like he’s sure following Zico is a good idea, but he goes anyway. There’s a stairwell nearby, and Zico pulls Jinyoung into it, closing the door behind them and muffling the sounds of managers and broadcast staff shouting at each other. “Were you confessing to me?” Zico demands. He probably sounds tenser than he means to, but he is tense, full of nervous anticipation. Nerves. It’s been a while since he felt like this. “Is that what you meant when you said you’d be thinking of me?”
Jinyoung won’t quite meet his eyes. “Jiho-yah,” he says, then falls quiet. Zico has never been so thankful for someone’s inability to tell a lie.
“Good,” he says. He grabs Jinyoung by the collar and pulls him in, kisses him like they’re not idols, like this isn’t a major broadcasting network, like there’s nothing to worry about in the world besides this and them. And Jinyoung—Jinyoung kisses him back, arms around his shoulders, fingers in his hair. Zico doesn’t think he could be that much more satisfied.
“You know,” he says after a minute, pulling back, “this was cute, and charming and everything, but you coulda just told me.”
“I could have,” Jinyoung agrees, fighting back a grin, “but then I wouldn’t have been able to watch you try really hard not to like me for the last couple of months.”
Zico blinks, mouth open, and then says, “Wait a second—”
But Jinyoung is laughing, open and happy, and Zico can’t find it in him to be mad, after all.