“B-Bye, Hunnie!”

 

“N-No! No! C-Come back, B-Bel! Come back! Come–”

 

Sheets rustle noisily and a figure shoots up.

 

–back.”

 

Silence. Then, a loud groan. A hand comes up to rake itself through short, soft tresses while bewildered facial features, slightly illuminated by the rays of moonlight streaming through a window, gradually dissolve into resignation and annoyance.

 

“Ugh, not again!”

 

---

 

“You shouldn’t be having these nightmares anymore, Hun.”

 

Sehun scoffs, tucking his phone between his ear and shoulder, freeing his hands to dig into his bag for his house keys. His fingers close around an object, and the corners of the boy’s lips twitch, easily pulling upwards into a small, knowing smile. Habits die hard, no matter how many years it has been. Sehun’s keys jingle as he emerges with them, and he quickly unlocks his front door before toeing off his shoes.

 

“As if I–,” Sehun replies, his fingers fumbling with the socks on his feet as he tries to remain balanced on one foot at a time. He manages to remove them without falling over, dropping them into the laundry hamper whilst passing by the kitchen en route to his room. “–don’t know that.”

 

Sehun would have missed hearing a sigh if he hadn’t decided to drop his bag onto his bed instead of its usual spot beside his desk, and frankly, he wishes he’d never heard it. Hearing this sound stemming from negative emotions makes Sehun feel guilty, and he feels even more so after realising that he’s been hearing similar sighs over the past few weeks ever since he decided to confide his problem in her.

 

Yeah, her.

 

“Bel…”

 

“Alright! Alright… I’m sorry for sighing even though you keep telling me not to.” A pause. “But I can’t help myself. I can’t help feeling worried for you because in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve moved away for almost three years now, and you’ve never had them. Until now. At fifteen years old.”

 

Sehun knows where this conversation is going.

 

“Something’s probably wrong.”

 

He bites back a sigh, and forces himself to stay on the phone even though he very much wants to hang up. But he won’t. Sehun knows how much these daily phone calls mean to his childhood friend (and himself). Ever since his mother kindly provided the information that Isobel’s gotten herself a phone a year back (psh, how late; Sehun got his two years back), he’s been pestering the woman to ask their ex-neighbour for the girl’s number and finally, finally after a month of dishwashing duty, he grins at the new number in his contacts.

 

To say that Sehun had been nervous when he texted her, for the first time after two years of supervised household-phone calls, is an understatement. He usually doesn’t swear, but when Isobel replies, the boy yells a yeahhhhhhh! (and gets hollered at by his parents).

 

And as seconds, minutes, and hours bleed into days, months, Sehun finds himself thinking that hey, it's as though we've never drifted apart at all.

 

“There is–”

 

“I can’t hear anything over the loudness of your DENIAL!”

 

But then again, sometimes Sehun wishes that he'd never persevered through that one month of dishwashing.

 

---

 

“Sorry, but can I borrow a pencil?”

 

A voice travels to Sehun’s right ear and he faintly feels a slight nudge to his arm, gently rousing him from his nap (that he isn’t supposed to be taking but what the heck it’s free period). The boy props his cheek on his knuckle and groggily blinks. “Huh?”

 

“Sorry to wake you up but I really need to borrow a pencil but none of our classmates were kind enough to lend me one.”

 

Sehun nods, fingers skimming across the surface of his school desk towards his pencil case. He attempts to search for his pencil but with sleep still clouding his eyes, Sehun lets out an annoyed growl when he just can’t seem to find it. He’s about to tear the poor fabric case apart when a pair of hands in a healthy tan appear in his vision and removes the source of his frustration from his hands.

 

“Here, let me.”

 

And before he knows it, the case is back on his desk and from the corners of his bleary eyes, Sehun spies his pencil being twirled by those tanned fingers. He blinks rapidly, desperately wanting to dispel the sleepiness in his orbs to get a better look at the owner of such manly digits, and when he finally does get rid of his blurry sight, Sehun barely bites back a woah.

 

“You’re Sehun, right?” The stranger pipes up, eyes, round and full of curiosity, darting upwards to look at Sehun. His lips pull into a smile, no teeth, yet Sehun feels the friendliness emanating from such a simple gesture. He finds it hard to not return the favour.

 

“Y-Yeah, I am.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“I haven't seen you before, so you are…?”

 

The person’s eyes blow wide–

 

“Oh.”

 

–before returning to their normal size. “Sorry, I just transferred here today, and since we haven't had any lessons yet, no one knows me.” Sehun’s breath hitches when the smile widens, and white teeth peek through those lips. “I've forgotten to introduce myself.”

 

Sehun watches with slight apprehension as the stranger puts down his pencil and wipes his tanned fingers on his uniform, causing Sehun to wonder if his hands are sweaty…? But it’s totally not the case because when Sehun grips one, for he’s surprised to feel dryness, as well as a bout of warmth that reminds Sehun of the sun. And the smile of his childhood friend (whom he hasn’t seen in almost three years).

 

“I’m Jongin.”

 

The smile continues to widen to that of a (damn handsome) crooked smirk, and Sehun just knows that he’ll be seeing a lot of this.

 

“Kim Jongin.”

 

---

 

“How’s your new friend, Hun?”

 

The boy ignores the warning blaring in his head to scathingly grumble, “Calling for the first time after almost a week and you ask about a stranger instead of your dear old friend.”

 

Isobel’s next statement tells Sehun that he should always, always listen to his brain.

 

“I'm hanging up. Bye Oh Sehun.”

 

And hanging up is what she does for a split second later, the dial tone is all that Sehun hears. He curses, and debates between throwing his phone onto his bed while he continues to be enslaved to his homework, or to call back and be enslaved to his best friend’s, no doubt, onslaught of questions pertaining to his new friend.

 

The answer’s pretty obvious, if you know Oh Sehun well enough.

 

“It took you two minutes to call me back. Your times are getting longer, Hunnie.”

 

“Be glad I even called you back at all, ingrate Lee.” Sehun shoots back, and ignores the loud scoff from the other end of the line.

 

“Very funny, Oh Sehun.” Isobel deadpans, but quickly dives back into the purpose of the call. “But really, how’s Jongin as a friend?”

 

The question shouldn’t shock Sehun per se, since it’s the first thing his childhood friend had asked the moment he picked up her call (Sehun was honestly delighted when he saw her name flashing on his phone after a week of no contact), but apparently it still did. The question left Sehun momentarily stunned before he begins to ponder, his mind searching for an answer that, hopefully, wouldn’t disappoint the girl because that’s the last thing he wants her to feel. These cross-country calls are getting rarer and rarer, what with the two of them getting more homework as the years progress and more commitments to other matters that obviously don’t include each other. And somewhere along the way, Sehun realises that.

 

So he answers to the best of his ability. “Jongin’s great. He’s new, but he warms up to others quickly. You won’t believe how the sports clubs are fighting one another just to get him to join; he joined the dance club by the way. Oh, and he’s good with languages but terrible at math and science; so we help each other for those subjects because you know how awesome I am at both math and science” — Sehun can’t help but smirk, and Isobel scoffs — “yet I fail so horribly at anything to do with language. So yeah, Jongin’s been a good friend.”

 

And Isobel’s hum of a response makes Sehun’s heart soar, only to plummet back down when instead of a reply, she asks, “You do like him, right? As a friend?” Then a pause. “Because all you’ve been saying was how he’s helping you out in class and how he is in class. You didn’t mention how he’s treating you as a friend.”

 

The silence on Sehun’s end must have informed Isobel of the boy’s sudden downcasted mood, for she quickly adds, “I’m not chiding you, Hun, I just want answers to my question.”

 

“You already know that I’m bad at comprehension…”

 

“Well. Try.”

 

And silence becomes the white noise that fills the call, as Sehun once again wanders through his thoughts to come up with an answer that will, please please please, satisfy his childhood friend’s curiosity. It isn't his fault that he can't properly answer her question; but it isn't Isobel’s fault either. The girl always has been the analytical one between the pair, while Sehun is… well, something else between the pair. And that something else is apparently at work right now, if the cogs turning in his mind is any indication and oh, how about that — an answer pops up.

 

Sehun softly murmurs his reply, and his childhood friend’s delighted gurgle (I was drinking tea when you said that okay!) is music to his ears. Also, Isobel’s reply stays in his head the entire day, causing him to crack small smiles at the most inopportune of times (Stop smiling, son! You're freaking me out and I haven't had dinner yet!).

 

“I… like Jongin. He's a good friend. And… I like him.”

 

“That’s great, Hun, that's wonderful. And oh, congratulations on perhaps finding another best friend!”

 

---

 

“You owe me a meal, Sehun!”

 

“I do not… If anything, you owe me a meal too.” A scoff. “I helped you quite a bit for that math assignment.”

 

“Well, I helped you for that English essay!”

 

“...”

 

“Well?”

 

“Fine. How do you want to settle this, then?”

 

“Dinner. Tomorrow! At that Chinese restaurant Jia-noona’s been raving about. Is that okay with you?”

 

“... Okay.”

 

---

 

“H-Hel–”

 

“EMERGENCY, BEL! CODE RED, CODE RE–”

 

“Wh-What?”

 

“EMERGENCY! IT’S AN EMERGENCY, BEL!!”

 

Isobel has gotten up by then, her back resting on the pillow she's got propped up against the wall. Her free hand rubs at her sleep-clouded eyes, and she wills her mind to kickstart itself even though she's switched it off hours ago. It's been a rough day, what with homework piling in left and right and other activities requiring her attention going on at school; why she joined the student council in her first year is beyond her comprehension (which is saying something since the girl’s language ability is amazing). Isobel’s barely catching her breath amidst it all, and just when she thought she'd be able to finally, finally get eight hours of sleep, her phone has to ring two hours in.

 

“What's the emergency–” The girl is so sleepy, she's unable to figure out the owner of the voice she's been hearing it scream at her; so she pulls her phone away from her ear and squints at the screen. Ah. “–Hunnie? You do know that you woke me up, right?” And Isobel clucks her tongue in mock disapproval to get her point across.

 

Sehun hears it. He also hears the playfulness behind it, so he ignores the sound to instead whimper, “It's really an emergency. Really.”

 

“Your comprehension skills are beyond help. You didn't answer the question again!!”

 

A manly groan. “Ugh, stop harping on my language skills Isobel Lee! You know it's not helping!”

 

“Well, you not answering the question isn't helping either! It's been–” The girl squints at the screen again. “–three minutes into the call and I still don't know what's your emergency!”

 

Sehun very much wants to punch himself in the face. He also very much wants to ignore the warning blaring in his head (once again) when he snaps, “Fine, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for having such inadequate language skills as compared to your wonderful ability to bull rainbows and unicorns out of nothing.”

 

He really should listen to his mind. Because for the second time, he hears the dial tone in his ear, but this time, his childhood friend doesn't even bother to say goodbye.

 

Though this time, Sehun only takes a second to call back. (Thankfully, she picks up; thank god. Thank. God.)

 

“It must really be serious if you're calling me back this quickly.” Isobel deadpans, and Sehun can visualise her scrutinising her nails whilst saying that. It's been three years, but some habits surely don't change. (And yes, he would know, having seen it, having experienced it firsthand.)

 

“It is, Bel, it is.”

 

“So? Spill already.”

 

Sehun readies himself, his heart suddenly thumping hard for no reason as he inhales deeply. He can almost see Isobel rolling her eyes, but no matter, she won't understand. She will not get what he's feeling because– because– well, just because.

 

“Jongin asked me out for dinner.”

 

Silence. Then all hell breaks loose.

 

“Oh. Se. Hun. You called me at ing midnight, screaming over the phone — and I swear I think my parents can hear your ing hollers in their room next door — only to tell me that your emergency, your code red is just Jongin asking you out for a meal.”

 

Sehun thinks it's over. He's so wrong.

 

“ YOU OH SEHUN I BARELY SLEPT FIVE HOURS EVERY NIGHT FOR THE PAST WEEK AND JUST WHEN I THOUGHT OH MY GOSH I CAN CATCH A FULL EIGHT HOURS OF SLEEP YOU JUST HAD TO CALL AND WHAT DID I GET FOR WAKING UP TO ANSWER? Oh ‘Jonginnie asked me out for a meal!’ YOU HUNNIE, YOU.”

 

Is it over?

 

“You're horrible.”

 

 

 

“You owe me a meal.”

 

It’s over.

 

But at the end of the day, Isobel still is Sehun’s childhood and best friend, so she g