mingyu isn't stupid, at least not in the context of social expectations. he knows what to say, when to keep his mouth shut.

this is one of those times, he thinks, seated at the dinner table during one of the weekly dinner parties their little korean community hosts.

his father is three chairs to the left, all but lecturing about how with gay marriage legalized everything is going to, essentially, go to . a few of the other men around him, the fathers of his closest friends, mutter their agreement. their wives are silent, meekly scooping more food into their husbands' bowls of rice, one recoiling when the man next to her hisses out a "didn't i tell you i don't like that kind of onion?"

his best friends jihoon, joshua, and seungkwan are in the three chairs to his right. joshua is nodding along with to the adult's conversation, earrings out and likely hidden in a drawer, the picture perfect christian son. seungkwan is busy stuffing his face with the various dishes mingyu's mother spent hours toiling away at the stove to create. he is the youngest and although well-known throughout school for his sass, although questions about his uality spread like butter on bread just because of the way he talks, he is the most gullible, soaking up his parent's opinions like a sponge.

jihoon, mingyu thinks, is the exception to the rule. he's the only one that dare curse in front their parents, the one who has definitely gotten high on purpose at least twice, the one that dyes his hair pastel colors despite "you're ruining your hair" and "men don't wear pink, jihoon", but he's also the one who's got early admittance to harvard. (and julliard, but mingyu doesn't think jihoon's parents know about that yet.)

if mingyu ever decided to tell the three of them about his feelings, whatever they are, he'd probably start and end with jihoon. joshua would give him that pitying, patronizing look he's seen so many times, and tell him something like, "you can still repent for your sins, mingyu." seungkwan would scream, yell in disbelief, then be so shell-shocked he'd stop talking to mingyu for who knows how long.

and even though it feels like they don't know him fully, like he's living in someone else's skin around them, they're the closest he's ever gotten to brothers and he can't imagine his life without them.

"hey, mingyu, you gonna eat that?" it's seungkwan, gesturing to the piece of beef lying cold on his almost untouched bowl of rice. mingyu feels himself make a face, "of course!" he eats it to prove his point. he hears jihoon snort next to him.

before he knows it, the night is over and he's waking up for school the next day. he's at school fifteen minutes early, as usual, waiting for his friends in the stairwell. it's strange, he thinks, how all the 'asians' had come together this way, but then he thinks about how everyone else blurred the lines between china and korea and japan and the philippines and vietnam into 'asians: slanted eyes and yellow skin and good grades and tiger parents' and suddenly it's not so strange.

while mingyu's lost in his thoughts of ethnicity and the lack of respect for it the stairwell has slowly filled with faces, some he sees every weekend and others whose names he barely knows.

once such face is wonwoo jeon, one he's always wanted to know better but never really did. mingyu knows he's one of jihoon's friends, spends his time in the arts hallway, and always has ink-stained fingertips and stray threads on his black clothes. he also knows that he used to have the biggest crush on wonwoo, but they never really talked and it just faded, as crushes were wont to. he was the first boy mingyu'd ever had a serious crush on, though, the only one he had seriously considered asking out. in the end it had turned out wonwoo'd been dating a cute, short girl named ivone from vietnam and that was that.

"hey! hey! did you guys hear?" it's hansol, the mixed-race kid who's always seemed more comfortable around the people here in the stairwell than around anyone else, even though a few of them always call him 'the white friend', "a new student's starting today, apparently he's like, china chinese," hansol says. a few of the chinese kids perk up, a few wilt. next to him, junhui mutters, "now my parents will make me go back to chinese school, i mean i know being bilingual is good and all but ugh."

someone calls out that they have five minutes before first bell, and everyone scatters. mingyu has his math class first, and he's just glad ms. james has all the desks separated. this class is small, but he's never spoken to any of his classmates before; they're just not in the same social groups and the math leaves no time for talking anyways. the only one he knows the name of is a latina that goes by rory, who's trying her best to get valedictorian of their year even though everyone knows it'll be going to a boy named seokmin, practically the next jihoon.

there's someone unfamiliar standing in the door, today. "do you need help?" mingyu asks, genuine. the boy turns around, shocked, "n-no?" there's more than a hint of an accent in his voice, his hair dyed silver. one look at his face, and mingyu knows this is the new chinese kid. "alright. i'm mingyu, i'm korean," mingyu says with a smile. for all his thoughts on the erasure of his heritage earlier, mingyu feels glad to have someone he knows he can relate to in this class.

with a final wave, he slides past the chinese kid and into the desk he's claimed as his own. the final bell rings, the tall white kid generally regarded as "the smart boy" sidling in just after with no repercussions. mingyu wonders how much trouble a black kid would get into if he did the same thing.

ms. james ushers the chinese kid in, prompts him to introduce himself. "i'm x-minghao xu, um. i just moved here from anshan, china and my eng-english isn't very good, sorry." he stutters through an introduction, but his voice is strong on the words mingyu assumes are the same in chinese. ms. james tells him to sit by mingyu, "you're both chinese, right?" half-whispered as an afterthought. mingyu rolls his eyes.

minghao sits by him nonetheless, offering a shy smile that's unfairly attractive. he also completes the classwork unfairly quickly, and mingyu is the one people always try to copy off of, whether it's because he's asian and therefore must be good at math or because he is actually decent at math he doesn't know. after the bell has rung, minghao beckons him over. "um, where's room 214a?" he asks, staring down at the printed schedule in his hands with a frown.

"we're in 104 right now, so you go up the stairs and ten doors to the right," mingyu supplies, "oh, and look, i have lunch and sixth period with you too!" he points at the paper. minghao says his thanks, and it's only after five seconds spent recognizing the sinking, giddy feeling in his stomach does he remember his second period class is on the third floor.

the first half of school is desperately normal, as if the change that is minghao needs to be balanced out by an otherwise boring day. he waves minghao over to their table at lunch - after all, where else would he sit? - and minghao fits in easily, right between mingyu and seungkwan. he makes surprisingly witty jokes and playfully argues with seokmin, occasionally slipping into chinese, saying things that make even junhui's cheeks go red. mingyu reaches across joshua to grab junhui's shoulder.

"what's he saying?" junhui has to choke back a laugh before he can answer. "he's cursing seokmin out, like, hardcore. i don't even know all these words oh my god!" it's a little ridiculous, and mingyu can't imagine minghao actually cursing, thinking back to the curve of his lips making the "you" in thank you.

for all he thinks about minghao's lips, though, in a few weeks mingyu decides that the best part of minghao's appearance are his eyes. he's always been one to fall hard, and fall fast.

he comes to the realization, sitting at a dinner table on friday night yet again, this time at jihoon's house. somehow, jihoon manages to get the four of them excused as soon as seungkwan has eaten the last grain of rice in his bowl. he guides them back to his bedroom, white walls and sleek black furniture the same as it's always been.

with a little smile, joshua runs a hand over the beaten up acoustic guitar resting on jihoon's bed. "remember when you hit mingyu with this? poor baby," he says, chuckling, the 'poor baby' in question obviously the guitar.

"yeah, well. he did deserve it," jihoon replies, shoving past joshua to take his usual place on the bed, cradling the guitar in his lap. mingyu pouts, collapsing into the same black office chair he has been collapsing into since he was eleven years old.

this time, though, he feels a vibration in his pocket. it's a text from minghao.

wryd? （・θ・）

nm tbh, at jihoons for dinner

i wont interrupt then! see you at school C:

see you

he chuckles at the duck emoji; minghao's been using them ever since his argument with seokmin lead to some of their friends calling him 'grumpy duckling'. he doesn't realize how big his smile is until seungkwan says, "aw c'mon mingyu, bros before hoes!"

seungkwan's teasing of course, but it leaves mingyu nervous anyways; is he that obvious? before he can jeopardize himself even more, he just rolls his eyes and makes a show of sticking his phone back in his pocket. "is she pretty at least?" seungkwan asks, eyebrows wiggling faster than should be humanly possible.

mingyu takes a second to think about how to respond. he could just come out with it and say it's minghao, but he ends up saying, almost guiltily, "yeah, she is." he can see wide, shining eyes and duck emojis on the back of his eyelids.

that only opens him up to more of seungkwan and joshua's teasing. soon enough, jihoon, never one for romance, guides the topic away from 'aw, our mingyu's all grown up' and seungkwan dramatically wiping tears from his eyes to who deserves joshua's kancolle figurine collection, should he suddenly die. jihoon says the last bit with his unique kind of malice, but they all know he's only joking.

it's when mingyu has barely sunken into the backseat of the family van that he feels a vibration in his pocket again. he can't help but feel disappointed when it's jihoon to the group chat instead of minghao again.

party @ the cereal bar in 2 weeks all invited. will update w details later

jihoon hasn't hosted a party in a while, especially not one at the cereal bar, a local cafe that sold only cereal by day, and popular rental space by night. mingyu figures he'll go, for once. he can use the shining line of numbers all above 98 on his report card to convince his parents, if he really has to.

soon the group chat floods with texts like 'ill be there!' and 'ayy nice'. he slips his phone back into his pocket.