Though it was just like any other morning, Yetao felt as if he'd awakened from a dream so profound he couldn't bear to leave it behind. As consciousness returned, a single tear slid from the corner of his eye, tracing a cool path down his temple.
He sat up slowly, chest heavy with an inexplicable sense of loss.
"What did you dream about for you to cry?" Lucas asked, his familiar face pinched with concern as he reached out to wipe away Yetao's tears.
Yetao searched the foggy corners of his mind but found only shadows. "I don't remember."
A sharp pain stabbed through his chest, causing his hand to clutch at his heart. Something important—something essential—had slipped through his fingers like water, leaving behind only the hollow ache of its absence.
Lucas misinterpreted his distress, placing a comforting hand on Yetao's head. "Taotao... don't dwell on what Oscar said yesterday. He just doesn't know what he missed. You're more than just someone who's stuck by a weak emotion called love. Don't cry over him, alright?"
"Oh... yesterday..."
The memory resurfaced—his long-time crush Oscar had hurt him cruelly, shattering his heart into pieces. Yet strangely, the pain of that seemed distant now, as if it had happened to someone else.
"What is this?" Yetao thought, perplexed by the disconnect between what he should be feeling and the mysterious longing that actually occupied his heart.
After a moment, he sighed and offered Lucas a soft smile. "Don't worry, Lu. I think I'm completely over him."
Relief washed over Lucas's features. "Good then. Get ready for today's training. I'll get you breakfast." He patted Yetao's shoulder before leaving the room.
Yetao took a deep breath, pushing aside the strange melancholy as he prepared for the day ahead. Yet the feeling lingered, like a phantom limb—the pain of something lost that he couldn't even remember having.
.
.
.
The training center buzzed with excitement that morning. A new notice had been posted on the announcement board: Chuang Asia 2, the region's most prestigious idol survival show, was holding auditions.
"Didn't you go to the finals in the previous season?" Lucas asked, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm as they scanned the details.
Something sparked in Yetao's chest, a fire igniting where moments ago there had only been strange emptiness. His eyes fixed on the notice, heart racing with sudden determination.
I'll definitely debut this time, he promised himself silently, the unfamiliar sadness giving way to fierce ambition.
Days blurred together as they prepared, and soon the audition date arrived. Yetao stood backstage with his group, trying to calm his racing heart when a nearby conversation caught his attention.
"We're actually lucky that he's the one. I thought senior Jackson would be the producer from Got7. Glad it's him," one trainee whispered excitedly to another.
"I know, right? Even the presence of senior Jackson would make me nervous," the other replied with a relieved sigh.
Curiosity piqued, Yetao approached them. "Is the producer from Got7 someone else? Is it senior Jay B?"
Both trainees shook their heads. "It's senior Bambam. It's a relief, right? I thought I'd die with senior Minghao and senior Jackson together as judges. But if he's the one, we don't have to worry."
Bambam? Who's that?, Yetao was confused internally.
The name echoed strangely in Yetao's mind, unfamiliar yet somehow resonant, like a forgotten melody. He forced a smile, thanking them before retreating to his group, his thoughts a jumbled mess.
Did someone change their name in Got7? Or is it a nickname for some member?
Pulling out his phone, he searched for Got7 members. His eyes widened at the results—a profile he'd never seen before appeared among the familiar faces. A tall, slender man with sharp features and a playful smile stared back at him from the screen.
"What's this? Did that group always have seven members?" he muttered, scrolling frantically through the search results.
According to every source, Bambam had been a part of Got7 since their debut in 2014. The discovery sent a chill down Yetao's spine. How could he not know about a member of one of the most famous groups in Asia?
He ran through the waiting area, searching for Lucas, who was stationed in a different section since his group was scheduled to perform last. By the time he reached him, Yetao was panting from exertion.
"Taotao, what happened?" Lucas asked, alarmed by his friend's frantic state.
Yetao thrust his phone forward, displaying Bambam's profile. "This man... has he always been a member of Got7?"
His voice carried farther than intended, drawing curious glances from nearby trainees who whispered among themselves, clearly shocked that someone wouldn't know Bambam.
Lucas quickly pulled Yetao into a corner, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Have you gone crazy?" he hissed. "What's with this absurd question?"
"I'm serious," Yetao insisted, keeping his voice low. "Didn't Got7 have only six members? Where did this man suddenly pop up from?"
Lucas gripped Yetao's shoulders firmly, staring into his eyes. "Taotao, did you forget we used to watch all their performances together? You even said he was a funny one. Did you forget that?"
Yetao searched his memories and found, to his surprise, faint traces of what Lucas described—hazy recollections of watching performances, of laughing at someone's antics. But the images were blurry, as if viewed through frosted glass.
"Seems like I did say that, but..." he trailed off, still uncertain.
Lucas sighed heavily. "Taotao... maybe you're too nervous that some things got mixed up in your head. I'll get you a drink. Drink it, relax, and just be ready for the audition, okay? Don't divert your focus anywhere else."
Yetao nodded, recognizing the wisdom in Lucas's advice. When Lucas returned with the drink, he gulped it down in one go, willing the strange confusion to subside so he could focus on the task at hand.
When finally, it was their turn to audition, Yetao strode onto the stage with his group members, projecting confidence despite his inner turmoil. His gaze swept across the judges' panel until it landed on Bambam.
Don't overthink, he reminded himself, forcing his professional smile to remain steady. He expected the judges to return his greeting with the same polite detachment and everyone did.
What he didn't expect was Bambam's reaction.
The moment their eyes met, Bambam's professional demeanor crumbled. His jaw dropped, eyes widening as if he'd seen a ghost—or perhaps something even more impossible. It wasn't the look of a seasoned idol and producer but rather that of a schoolboy catching his first glimpse of a long-harbored crush.
Startled, Yetao cleared his throat and quickly averted his gaze, a faint blush warming his cheeks despite his best efforts to remain composed.
I better not look at him while I'm performing, he decided, taking his position as the music began.
The group performance went flawlessly, their synchronized movements drawing cheers from the audience of trainees. When it came time for Yetao's solo, he changed costumes swiftly and returned to the stage transformed—his Fox Dance was his specialty, a display of grace and precision that had become his signature.
As he struck his final pose, instinct drew his gaze back to Bambam. What he saw nearly broke his concentration—there were tears glistening in his eyes, though Bambam quickly blinked them away and replaced them with a bright smile.
Did he just... cry? Yetao wondered, but before he could dwell on it further, the judges began their evaluations.
Every comment was glowing—even Minghao, notorious for his exacting standards, offered praise. Yetao's heart soared with each positive word, until finally, it was Bambam's turn to speak.
"Hu Yetao," Bambam began, his expression suddenly serious, "you actually are nothing to me."
The words were like ice water down Yetao's spine. Had he offended him somehow? Did not making an eye contact made Bambam angry, like Oscar had said a while ago?
But before Yetao's mind could spiral further, Bambam continued with a playful smile, "Because nothing lasts forever."
The audience erupted in delighted screams as understanding dawned on Yetao. This wasn't criticism—it was flirtation, bold and unabashed on national television.
Laughter bubbled up from Yetao's chest, partly from relief and partly to mask the fierce blush that threatened to overtake his face. And Bambam didn't stop there; he continued his shameless flirting throughout the remainder of his comments, seemingly unconcerned about his idol image or the fact that they were both men.
By the time Yetao received his 'A' ranking and joined the top-tier group, his heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the competition. Something about Bambam had awakened a feeling so powerful it scared him—not because it was new, but because it felt like coming home.
How did I not know of such a man? he wondered as they returned to their own rooms, the strange emptiness in his chest momentarily filled with something warm and bright and terrifyingly familiar.
...
The dormitory that housed the trainees became Yetao's new world. With all phones confiscated for the duration of the competition, the outside world faded into the background as new friendships bloomed in the pressure cooker environment of Chuang Asia 2.
Among the dozens of talented trainees, Yetao found himself inexplicably drawn to two in particular—Zihao and Thio. Something about them resonated with him on a level he couldn't articulate. Their interactions felt like reunions rather than first meetings, as if his soul recognized theirs before his mind could catch up.
And the most unexpected thing .... they always call him Mom and Yetao was nott repulsed by it, rather.... he loved it.
"Mommy, you dance like you're telling a story," Zihao had said after watching Yetao practice one evening, his eyes shining with admiration.
"It's because mom is telling a story," Thio had added, observing Yetao with a gaze that seemed too knowing, too deep for their short acquaintance. "He just doesn't remember which one."
The cryptic comment had made Yetao pause, but Thio had quickly laughed it off as a joke, and the moment passed.
By the end of the first few days, their bond had solidified into something that felt oddly familial. Yetao found himself adopting an almost parental role with them, fussing over their meals and correcting their dance postures with the natural authority of someone who had done so countless times before.
The night sky stretched endlessly above the dormitory's rooftop terrace, stars scattered like diamonds across black velvet. Yetao leaned against the railing, releasing a deep sigh that carried the day's emotions into the cool night air.
It had been a good day—the best he'd had in a long time. The 'A' ranking from the judges, his growing friendship with Zihao and Thio... and Bambam's words, which replayed in his mind like a favorite song on loop.
The memory of Bambam's playful flirtation brought an involuntary warmth to his cheeks. Yetao waved his hand through the air as if he could physically dispel the thoughts, but his smile betrayed him.
"If only I had my phone with me," he murmured to the night sky, wishing he could look up more about the enigmatic judge who had sent his heart racing with just a few casual words.
"You need a phone?"
The unexpected voice startled Yetao. He whirled around to find another trainee standing behind him, half-hidden in the shadows.
"Shen?" Yetao blinked in surprise, recognizing one of the younger contestants who rarely spoke during group activities.
"Do you need to call someone?" Shen asked, taking a step closer.
"Ah... no, just to see some dance videos," Yetao stammered, the lie coming easily. "I have a habit of watching those to sleep."
To Yetao's astonishment, Shen reached into his jacket and pulled out a tablet. Yetao's eyes widened, his head swiveling to check if anyone else was around to witness this blatant violation of the competition rules.
Shen's smile was reassuring. "Don't worry, just take it to your room and watch. I'm not the only one who brought this. So many trainees have sneaked in their mobiles and cameras."
Yetao's hand hesitated midway to the offered device. "But why are you—"
"Don't worry and accept it," Shen interrupted with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. I need to do this much to stay in his good grace, he thought to himself.
Despite his misgivings, the temptation was too great. Yetao accepted the tablet with a grateful nod and hurried back to his room, heart pounding with the thrill of breaking rules and the anticipation of what he was about to discover.
...
Under the sanctuary of his bedsheets, tablet light illuminating his face in the darkened room, Yetao entered a world he somehow felt he should already know. Video after video of Bambam—performing on stage, laughing during variety shows, dancing with fluid grace, teasing his group members with effortless charm.
Hours slipped by unnoticed as Yetao devoured every piece of content he could find. He smiled at Bambam's playfulness, gasped at his bold statements, and flushed at moments that seemed too intimate for a camera to capture.
Something about watching Bambam felt like remembering rather than discovering, as if each video unlocked something that had been buried deep within him.
Dawn was breaking when sleep finally claimed him, the tablet still clutched in his hands, Bambam's laughter echoing in his dreams.
...
When Yetao appeared the next morning to return the tablet, Shen had to suppress a startled laugh. Dark circles hung like bruises beneath Yetao's bloodshot eyes, his complexion ashen from lack of sleep. He resembled nothing so much as a wandering spirit who had forgotten to return to the afterlife at sunrise.
"Thank you," Yetao mumbled, pressing the tablet into Shen's hands before shuffling away like a zombie.
Once alone, Shen couldn't resist checking the search history. Page after page of Bambam's name filled the screen—interviews, performances, fancams, compilation videos of his most outrageous moments.
"Awww, these lovebirds," Shen chuckled to himself, pulling out a phone from his secret pocket. He dialed a number saved simply as 'Trouble'
"My lord, do you know what happened yesterday?" Shen began as soon as the call connected.
A weary sigh came from the other end. "How many times should I tell you to call me senior?"
"Ok. Just hear me out," Shen continued, undeterred. "Yetao gege borrowed my tablet and watched your videos all night."
There was a moment of silence before the man responded, it was Bambam, his voice carrying a note of undisguised pride. "Did he?"
Shen could practically hear the smile in his voice, the racing heartbeat beneath his casual tone.
Bambam cleared his throat, composing himself. "Make sure to stay by his side always. There are always a few guys who try to hit on him." The words came out like an order, followed by a barely audible mumble: "Just blame his beauty and naivety. He's kind to even a rock."
Shen's body involuntarily shivered at the possessive undertone. "Goodbye, senior." He quickly ended the call, clenching his fist in frustration.
"Why should it be me?" he complained to the empty hallway. "I wish I could unhear what he added in the end." Playing cupid had never been part of Shen's career plan, and Bambam's transparent jealousy made him cringe.
Miles away, in a luxurious penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows, Bambam gazed at the same sky that had witnessed Yetao's midnight vigil. His reflection in the glass showed a soft smile—not the manufactured one he showed on camera, but something genuine and tinged with longing.
"One step at a time," he whispered to himself. "You'll eventually come to me again, Taotao."
His fingers traced an invisible pattern on the glass, as if he could reach through it and touch the stars that connected them. In this life or any other, some bonds were simply too powerful to be forgotten—even when the memories themselves had turned to dust.