e i g h t e e n 

It took him about three full weeks or so after Hyukjae had left, but Donghae was rather proud to proclaim that he had adjusted himself quite well to the peculiar life that was the one of a university student. The first few days had started a little roughly, he had to admit, yet everything seemed to have smoothed out pretty nicely afterwards. If it wasn’t for the constant reminder that he was only a first-year student—the teachers weren’t short on repeating that fact at least once an hour—, he could have thought that he had been doing this all his life.

He had learned not to believe every single thing the older students of his field told him, that it was fine not to greet the lecturer each time he stepped inside the hall, and that not doing his homework in time wouldn’t automatically reward him a flat zero. While he had first dreaded the amount of work that would be demanded of him, the rhythm of his classes actually slowed down instead of speeding up like he had expected. He had less hours in the day to spend in university, and more to share with his new friends or at home.

But, rather than comforting him, the sudden freedom made him anxious.

It was still too early for the first exam period to begin. In fact, he still had three or four weeks to go until then. Except there was still an odd churning feeling that twisted his stomach every time he thought about it, as though to tell him he would fail all his subjects if he didn’t start studying right away.

And, so, instead of tagging along the same lazy pace that his classmates were happy to follow, Donghae started reviewing his lessons even before the teachers had given them definite test dates.

“Only you,” Hyukjae rolled his eyes at him on a rainy afternoon. His image on the screen flickered for a second or two before it came back to normal, and his face broke into an amused grin. “Only you would start studying for exams that haven’t even been announced yet.”

The two of them had agreed to video-call each other through Skype earlier that day, just like every Saturday and Sunday of the past month. More often than not, their calls lasted for hours until his Mommy had to remind him that he needed to go to sleep.

Donghae frowned, and then glanced mournfully at his math exercises. “I’m just trying to be prepared,” he huffed with a pout. “If you don’t want to help me or say ‘I’m proud of you, Donghae’, then just shut up, you .”

“Such nasty words coming out of your pretty mouth, Lee Donghae,” the other snickered. “This is not how I raised you, young man.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Hyukjae, too, seemed to have managed to acquaint himself with his new life far away from him. In Paris, of all places. Food was tasty, classes were mostly interesting, people were friendly; but the weather had already started to act capricious. And French is so difficult to learn—do they really teach that to their kids? he whined almost every time they chatted together. He still tried to make the most of the last sunny days he was granted with, however.

He kept sending him pictures of beautiful landscapes—it’s le Trocadéro in the seventh district, he had told him proudly, and with a horrible accent—and of himself posing in front of famous monuments in the city, all the while shamelessly praising his own photography skills. Donghae had rolled his eyes at that, and had then immediately retorted that all he knew was thanks to what he had taught him in the past.

Still, he continued to save up all the pictures he received on his phone. Some of them even became his new wallpapers.

The ones where he could see his smile in them.

*

Even though Hyukjae now lived thousands of kilometers away from him—which implied a confusing difference in time zones—, he still remained his favoritest Hyukjae. By extension, it also meant that he was still the first person he reached out for whenever he needed help with anything. Homework was one of those things.  

Almost a month after he had left, Donghae wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing for the older or not.

Donghae: Hyukjae, please, tell me how to solve that problem?? ㅠㅜ ^^

Donghae: hyukjae??

Donghae: hyukjae hyukjae hyukjae !!!!!! :ccc

Donghae: pleaseu hyukjae :c

Donghae: oh look I found puppies !!!!!

Hyukjae: it’s four in the ing morning stop it brat

Donghae: :cccc hyukjae //3

Donghae: sorry I didn’t know hyukjae!!!!!!!^^ ㅠㅜ

Donghae: ok……… goodnight hyukjae

Half an hour later, as Donghae started to despair—what were all those numbers for, really?—, a new text prompted the screen of his phone to light up suddenly. Two pictures were attached along with it. Blinking curiously, he reached out for the device and nearly squealed when he saw Hyukjae’s number in the notification bar.

Hyukjae: here you silly kid. It's messy but it's still 4am something here and I'm sleepy. Bye. ((the puppies were cute but next time send a picture of you))

Donghae smiled, a bubble of warmth swelling pleasantly in the pit of his stomach. No matter the distance, Hyukjae would forever be his favoritest Hyukjae.

With a silly grin on his face, Donghae wrote the letters “Y O U” on a rumpled piece of paper and took a picture of it. Snickering childishly, he sent the file to Hyukjae.

Hyukjae: you’re lame and a nerd and an idiot :’) <3333

*

Four months after the older had left for France, it was finally winter over there as well. Although the layer of snow didn’t seem as thick in Paris as it was in Seoul, it still looked cold enough for him to start worrying about his health.

Don’t worry about me, Hyukjae had reassured him when he had shared his concerns, frowning. Worry more about yourself and don’t forget to dress up warmly. Understood, kiddo?

Donghae never left his house without his scarf anymore.

Following the first exam session in mid-November, the younger became the happy owner of some of the best grades in his tutorial classes. All of it, he knew, was thanks to the hours of studying he had inflicted on both Hyukjae and himself. As soon as he had learned about his exceptional results, he had rushed back home and up to his bedroom, then had hastily sent a text message to the other.

Only ten minutes later, the Skype window lit up and notified him of an incoming video-call.

“Aren’t you proud of me, Hyukjae? I know you are!” he exclaimed giddily into his laptop after he had finished sharing the good news. “Are you going to give me a present, then? You used to give me one when I had good grades! It’s not because you’re at the other side of the planet that you can’t still do that.”

On the screen—the quality was surprisingly good that day, he was glad to note—, Hyukjae raised an amused eyebrow at him. He snorted, though not unkindly, and then snuggled a little more comfortably into the pillows of his bed. Donghae wished he could be there with him.

“You know what, kiddo,” he said airily as he tapped a finger against the edge of his keyboard rhythmically. “Be the top of the year, and I’ll give you a present. Something awesome, I promise.”

Pouting disappointedly, the younger grumbled, “You’re so mean. They’re all so smart at university; how am I even supposed to do that?”

As Hyukjae retorted that all he had to do was to keep on studying hard, Donghae caught the sight of a man he didn’t know strolling by next to the other’s bed. He blinked, momentarily confused, and then almost spluttered aloud upon realizing that he was half- from the waist up. The stranger was rather short, he noted—shorter than Hyukjae, at least—, and had an air about him that screamed friendliness and confidence.

Jealousy flared up in his chest instantly, crushing down the bits of happiness that had been floating about. It burnt, long and painful and horrible, and prompted him to fall silent for a short moment.

“I know you can do it, kiddo, and—… Donghae?” Hyukjae called then, frowning worriedly. “Are you okay?”

The younger boy flushed and then bit on his lower lip, a rush of guilt and embarrassment washing over him. “What? Oh—uh—y—yeah, everything’s fine. I mean—… yeah.”

He could only hope that the stranger was only his roommate, and no more than that. But at the same time, he knew he wasn’t entitled to demand such things of him. A conflicted groan almost escaped him.

Feelings could be so complicated sometimes.

But still, he pouted. Please just be his roommate.

*

Five months after Hyukjae had left, and in much less time than he had thought it would take, the first midterm exam session was just about to begin.

All hell broke loose.

Donghae started to spend nights after nights reviewing each and every of his lessons, somehow still holding onto the small hope that he would become the top of his year, and swore that university was now his new personal torment. All his tests had been planned in the same week—something he had only rarely experienced in high-school—and he was certain that he would never manage to go through it alive.

“I don’t know what they’ve been feeding you over there, but you’ve become very dramatic since I left,” Hyukjae commented with a disbelieving eyebrow. Then, with a disapproving tone, added, “You need to stop pumping yourself up with coffee and start eating actual food. Don’t think your Mom didn’t tell me about it. You’re going to fall sick at this rate.”

Although his concern was as deliciously warming as it had always been, Donghae whined and glared venomously at his messy notes. He was ready to vow to whoever was willing to listen that he couldn’t understand a single word of what was written on his papers. If you’d start writing a little more neatly, maybe it’d help, the other had pointed out helpfully. That was not the point, he had retorted almost immediately, and also a little indignantly.

“But, Hyukjaeeeeeeeee!”

The latter rolled his eyes, straightening up slightly on his chair so he could look at his screen better. “Show me those,” he said then.

Donghae hurriedly held his notebook in front of his laptop camera, eyes wide and a little hysterical as he asked, “Do you know how to find this result? Do you? Hyukjae, do you?”

“Not that close, silly. I can’t see a single thing.”

Then, with a sigh, he reached out for a sheet of paper and a pencil. “I’ve already taught you how to do the first part of the exercise,” he said as he scribbled what looked like the hardest steps of it. “All you need is to go from there and use the formulas they give you in theory. Like those exercises you had to do for the fourth week, remember?”

“But, how?” he insisted with an appealing pout.

Another roll of the eyes was sent in his direction but he swore he saw a fond grin tug at the corners of his lips. “Stop fidgeting and I’ll show you. Is it the only thing you have trouble with or is there anything else?”

Please tell me who was the guy in your room last time?

“Uh—no, it’s…” He frowned, conflicted. “It’s only that. I mean; so far it is.”

“Okay,” Hyukjae nodded. “Just let me grab my phone so I can send you pictures of what I wrote.”

*

A little over half a year had already gone by ever since Hyukjae had left for Paris. Only one year and a half more to go, he kept thinking to himself.

Spring was just around the corner in South Korea. The weather had started to warm up slightly, while the thick layer of snow that had been clinging on the streets for months had almost completely melted away. But, even in spite of it, Donghae still continued to wear his scarf everywhere he went.

The older student had been adamant that he did so for at least a few weeks more.

It was on a chilly Saturday night in March that the younger finally learned more about the half- man he had seen in his room. Once again that time, and much like how it had happened weeks before, Donghae saw the same stranger fumbling with a wet towel somewhere behind the other. It was the second time he caught him wandering around without a shirt on, and the mere thought prompted irritation to stir in his stomach. The man had chubby cheeks and golden-brownish hair, which he was trying to dry halfheartedly. And, if he had to be honest, he did look rather cute.

Hyukjae was comfortably seated at his desk, looking just as handsome and warm and sweet as ever, but before the younger could have stopped himself, he threw him a withering look of reproach.

“What?” Hyukjae frowned confusedly. When he didn’t answer immediately, he raised an eyebrow and glanced behind him questioningly.

A short pause went by before he let out a loud laugh. Reaching out with one hand, he quickly smacked the back of the man’s hand, who spluttered in protest, and told him to dress up properly, you stupid exhibitionist.

Then, turning back around to smile at Donghae, he said, “Oh, him? He’s just my roommate; his name’s Henry. I don’t think I’ve ever told you about him, right? I guess I just forgot.”

Somewhere in Hyukjae’s room, someone who must have been Henry—Henry-hyung?—laughed and shouted, “Go to hell, !”

Instead of feeling relieved, Donghae pouted unconsciously.

“Oh,” he mumbled, but said nothing else.

He adverted his eyes away and fidgeted on his bed, trying his best not to look like a jealous, immature child, as much as he had to fight the urge of demanding to know what their relationship was exactly.

On the screen, the older leant back into his chair and gave him a slow, sly smirk. The sight of it didn’t reassure him at all.

“And, well,” Hyukjae continued. “He has a girlfriend, the lucky bastard. Her name’s Amber, I think.”

A pause.

“Which means he is not my boyfriend,” he then stated with a deliberate slowness, as though to make sure he could catch each of his words. “You know; in case you were wondering. Or something.”

“I—I—I wasn’t! I never asked!” the younger squeaked with a high-pitched voice. A deep blush instantly spread around his cheeks and he whined aloud, reaching for his duvets so he could hide his flushed face into them. “I don’t care! I mean, I—… You can date whoever you want, Hyukjae, I just—!”

Hyukjae laughed, cooed, and his blush darkened into even more intense hues. And everything was finally well once again.

*

It was eight months after the older had left him that Donghae finally agreed to go to his first university party. It was to be held in the largest dorm of the campus, the Copper House—which was an odd name, he couldn’t help but think, since they had all been built with bricks—where some of his closest friends currently lived. It seemed like a scary experience at first, but also exciting all the same.

If anything happens tonight, he had told his parents very seriously, only Kibum and Ryeowook are to be blamed.

“I’m pretty sure they won’t be if you ever come back pregnant,” Siwon-hyung had retorted with a flat tone when he had called to tell him about the party. “Don’t forget protection, sweetheart.”

If his older brother hadn’t been studying in China at that time—he wasn’t too sure where exactly—, Donghae would have kicked him. Painfully. He had strong legs and a pretty go