Raindrop after raindrop fell endlessly from the darkening night sky onto the lamppost-lit road.

 

Pill after pill dropped hesitantly from the prescription bottle onto the shaky teenage boy’s palm.

 

“When you own a Maserati, it’s your duty to push it to its limits.”

 

“I just want to sleep this whole nightmare away …”

 

The young dark-haired driver turned up the volume of the catchy pop song blasting through his black Maserati, his beam so bright that his panda-like eyes formed happy crescents as he sped down the quiet road of Mystic Bridge. He wouldn’t deny it – there was a certain thrill that accompanied speed.

 

The pink-haired boy sat on the bathroom floor with his back leaning against the porcelain bathtub; the exhaustion and fatigue he was experiencing were unlike anything he had ever experienced yet he could not sleep. He threw another small handful of sleeping pills into his mouth before letting out a small yawn.

 

It was another one of those nights where the downpour raged so heavily against his windshield that the driver could barely register what was going on outside. However, despite the heavy shower, he could have sworn that he saw a figure about to jump from the bridge. The driver struggled in vain to slow his car down and next thing he knew, the black Maserati was skidding uncontrollably against the wet asphalt …

 

Drowsiness overcame the teenage boy before he had time to process how many sleeping pills he had consumed. He had always been a fussy sleeper, often tossing and turning, but he was now peacefully asleep as his body crumpled onto the floor with his arm awkwardly sticking out at an odd angle. The prescription bottle rolled away out of sight …

 

Darkness.

Darkness.

 

 

In his nineteen years of existence, not once had Huang Zitao ever had anyone raise their voice at him. When he came home one day with his usually neat black hair done in cornrows, his mother had eyed the new hairstyle curiously but had not yelled at him. When he spent his college tuition on a Maserati, his father had raised his eyebrows and asked to go for a spin but did not reprimand him. When he was late for the part-time job which he had taken to save up for luxury nunchucks with his name engraved on it in gold, his boss had reminded him to check the time but never scolded him.

And so it was that when Zitao strode over to the deep blue vending machine standing in the middle of the sickeningly white hospital hallway, the last thing he expected to hear whilst selecting the option for the last remaining bottle of vitamin water was an obnoxious seventeen-year-old boy shouting at him from several feet away.

 

“Are you serious? Are you actually kidding me right now?! I was only with the psychologist for forty-five minutes.”

 

The stranger stopped to exhale angrily and ran his fingers through his bubblegum pink hair, muttering incoherent curses as he did so. When he looked over at Zitao again, his mouth fell open in dismay as the dark-haired boy in front of him casually downed the contents of the vitamin water which should have been his. Every drop that was drunk by another was a slap in the pink-haired stranger’s face.

 

Zitao capped the mini bottle when he was done with it and did nothing to hide the mischievous smirk on his face. “Patient Oh Sehun, at the age of seventeen, shouldn’t you know better than to pick fights with your elders? If you want this so much, you can have it.” He walked over to the seventeen-year-old and stopped next to him to drop the empty bottle in the pink-haired boy’s hands before proceeding towards the doors leading to the staircase.

 

Sehun’s grasp on the bottle tightened, his other hand clenching into a fist, before he whirled around and angrily threw the useless object at Zitao, snapping, “Take that, you weird and insane stalker!”

 

The plastic bottle flew through the open doors and hit the unsuspecting nineteen-year-old boy square in the back, the impact surprising Zitao and causing him to lose his footing on the first stair. Sehun had already irritably stepped into one of the hospital lifts by then without a clue that not very far away from him, Zitao was rolling and tumbling down half a flight of stairs.

 

 

In his nineteen years of existence, Huang Zitao had hurt himself more times than he could count. It was inevitable as a martial artist and he accepted all the components that made up the most important part of his life. Wushu was not meant for someone who feared injury and pain was something that he simply knew of but refused to acknowledge. However, that all changed a year ago when one car crash and two broken limbs forced him to give up the martial art in spite of his unyielding reluctance.

 

From: King Hun

To: xxx-xxx-xxx

Hi, Mummy ♡ I’m leaving the PC bang now ^^ How much vitamin water is left in the fridge?

 

From: 美男Z.TAO (xxx-xxx-xxx)

To: King Hun

Hey, King Hun. Pretty sure you’ve got the wrong number. Hope you’ve still got some left in the fridge.

 

From: King Hun

To: 美男Z.TAO

LOL THANKS AND SORRY TO BOTHER YOU MAN

 

Zitao chuckled to himself before leaving his phone on the table beside the white hospital bed upon which he lay. The dark-haired boy would not have ordinarily responded to a text from a random person but to say that he was bored would be an understatement. It was almost the end of his first week at Guangjing Hospital as a patient with a dislocated shoulder and though he enjoyed being pampered by Suho the blue-haired psychologist, Zitao was pretty much done with the situation … until he received his first shred of entertainment in the form of a text from a classic mama boy.

It was definitely surprising but nowhere near as amusing when said mama boy decided to bombard the innocent nineteen-year-old with more texts later that night.

 

From: King Hun

To: 美男Z.TAO

Lol, I just found out what your username says and I can’t believe someone would actually call himself a pretty boy ouo

 

From: King Hun

To: 美男Z.TAO

I’m so bored right now … Wanna talk?

 

From: King Hun

To: 美男Z.TAO

BOOOOOOOOOOORED

 

From: King Hun

To: 美男Z.TAO

Hello? ._. Pretty Boy?

 

From: King Hun

To: 美男Z.TAO

Please talk with me :c

 

From: 美男Z.TAO

To: King Hun

IT’S 3AM, BRO.

 

From: King Hun

To: 美男Z.TAO

I know :D

 

To his disappointment, Sehun’s phone remained silent for the next few hours as he restlessly tossed and turned under his Hello Kitty duvet in the hopes that the stranger would respond and talk with him long enough for him to fall asleep. He finally lost consciousness as the morning skies outside his window began to colour, blending hues of pale orange and soft red unseen behind the deep blue blind of the pink-haired boy’s bedroom.

 

 

The twisting of a doorknob did not go unheard by Zitao’s ninja instincts but he simply shrugged it off as nothing as he continued to remain in dreamland. The sound of light footsteps making their way across the hospital room was detected by Zitao’s ninja instincts but he dismissed it as a part of his dreamless sleep. The loud tug of curtain rods being pulled was once again not unnoticed by Zitao’s ninja instincts and by then, his mind was on full alert despite his eyes still being closed. He was mentally calculating his current distance from his personalised nunchucks upon which Zitao was engraved in gold when pleasant words filled the air.

 

“Rise and shine, Zitao~ Ready for breakfast? I heard you lost your appetite so I brought a gift for you straight from the mansion – the best steamed buns for my favourite colleague!”

 

The named boy relaxed at once upon hearing the familiar voice. He sleepily groaned in response, mumbling, “Come back later, Suho …” as he pulled the white bed covers over his head to block out both the bright voice of his colleague as well as the sunlight seeping in through the large window of which the curtains had been drawn.

 

The late morning sky on the other side of the window resembled a shade of blue like that of Suho’s hair and the boy’s smile shone almost as bright as the sun. With the enormous container of steamed buns tucked under one arm, he used his free hand to forcefully tug at Zitao’s blankets which resulted in the other slowly sitting up with his eyes still very much shut. “Do I smell baozi?”

 

“You bet!” the blue-haired boy said happily, placing the food container on the dark-haired boy’s lap. “I’ve got a patient to speak with immediately after this so eat up, okay? I won’t leave till I know you’ve eaten.”

 

The heat radiating from the container caused Zitao’s panda-like eyes to snap open in shock but once Suho had lifted the lid, the enchanting smell wafting from the steamed buns was all that mattered. “Your grace is immeasurable …” Zitao mumbled dreamily.

 

“Someone’s been watching too many historical dramas,” Suho said in an amused tone as he reached over to tear a bun in half in an attempt to begin feeding the other but the latter quickly grabbed a bun first whilst shaking his head. “For the last time, no! I really appreciate you bringing me this delicious breakfast and I will definitely return the favour but there is no way I am letting you feed me. Arm in a sling or not, a panda is more than capable of feeding himself, Suho. Do not forget.”

 

The self-proclaimed panda received a good-natured scoff in return which he ignored whilst he stuffed his face with the steamed buns, almost drooling when his teeth penetrated through the soft, airy texture and his tongue came in contact with the succulent meat filling within. “So what’s on the psychologist’s agenda today?” Zitao asked in between his blissfully content munching.

 

Sitting on the empty hospital bed beside Zitao’s one, his feet dangling in the air a few inches above the ground, Suho shrugged. “Nothing to interest you, of course. Aren’t you the one who claimed that a training cardiologist has way more fun than a respected psychologist does?”

 

“Well, it’s true!” the other amusedly replied with a full mouth. “I do have more fun than you at this hospital.”

 

The respected psychologist grimaced at the lack of table manners and threw a silk handkerchief at the training cardiologist before he continued. “Stop by my office at 2pm, okay? My chef is dropping off some snacks for me and I need you to receive them for me.”

 

Zitao wiped his mouth with an interested expression and asked, “By snacks, are you referring to salmon sashimi?”

 

“Nope,” Suho answered. “I just had that for breakfast.”

 

“Roasted duck?” the other suggested. “Lobster?”

 

“Just be there, Zitao. I only have a few short sessions around that time so you wouldn’t mind waiting outside for a bit if necessary, would you?”

 

Closing the now empty food container, Zitao tapped his sharp jaw in thought. “That depends … Who are the patients you have at 2pm? Because I’m still recovering from the last time you asked me to receive your snacks for you. Remember when that housewife cried all over me about her problems and came very close to blowing her nose on my famously pristine lab coat?”

 

“Mrs. Oh is a sweet lady and she had nothing but nice things to say about you. I’ve actually got an appointment with her son Sehun today.”

 

“Wait, Oh Sehun? That guy who has a weird hobby of dyeing his hair eccentric colours the way you do?”

 

“Well, if you must put it that way, yes. His appointment is coincidentally around the time when my chef will arrive but I’ve got a session with my friend Yixing right before Sehun so you might even end up waiting with him depending on the time that you show up. He’s a cool kid, don’t worry.” Suho stood up to pick up the empty container off of Zitao’s lap and headed for the open door where he leant on the frame. “Unless you’d prefer to stay cooped up in here watching the cardiologist team running around having fun without you, Dr. Zitao?”

 

Almost as if on cue a group of cardiologists hurried past the door, youthful faces beaming at one another as they excitedly ran down the hallway whilst fixing their pagers. The blue-haired boy turned to the dark-haired boy with an all-knowing grin which fell slightly when he received a deadpan in return.

 

“You know what, Dr. Suho?” Zitao wiped his mouth with the fallen silk handkerchief before he went on. “I will be there extra early to receive your overly expensive luxury meal and I will definitely without a doubt help myself to it before you even get to lay your eyes on it!”

 

The psychologist nodded approvingly from the door. “Just don’t keep the chef waiting!”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” the other lazily replied.

 

“And don’t forget to take your heart medication!” Suho added.

 

Zitao sighed. “I won’t … Go brighten up some other people’s mornings now, Suho. Didn’t you say you had an appointment?”

 

“I do, indeed,” Suho said with a charming wink. “Take care of yourself!” And with a final smile that blinded Zitao, the psychologist headed out of the room and into the hallway.

 

 

“Your Highness.”

 

Luhan lifted himself up from his chair and approached the table that Tinglei stood in front of, causing her to look up at once and straight into his enigmatic eyes. “Why should I accept anything from you? Do you want to marry me—”

 

Tinglei’s breath hitched in .

 

“—or poison me?” he finished, his melodic voice dropping into an almost incoherent whisper.

 

Whilst a historical drama rerun played on the TV in the background of the hospital playroom, Zitao sat cross-legged on the colourful interlocking mats on the floor as he casually browsed through an online shopping app on his phone. His eye caught the list of recently trending items and upon further inspection, he realised that most of them appeared to be artworks from an up and coming artist known as Seulgi. Curious as he was, Zitao’s attention was quickly diverted elsewhere and he looked up from his phone with raised eyebrows when he heard an overly dramatic theme song blaring from the TV drama.

 

“Uh, Bingbing, I actually don’t think five-year-olds should be watching To Taint a Flowerbud. How about we change the channel?”

 

The little girl sitting beside him threw a Mickey Mouse plushie at the older boy and giggled. “But you’re five, too!” Picking up a toy cup and sipping on her imaginary tea, she went on. “Don’t worry, I think the third lead will come soon.”

 

“Your Highness, you have discovered my true intentions!” Zitao gasped in horror, lunging for the remote control.

 

“No, no!” Bingbing laughed, arming herself with plushies which she threw at Zitao one by one. “We have to see the next episode’s preview!”

 

Laughing along with Bingbing, Zitao enthusiastically rolled around on the carpeted floor with the limited freedom that his one broken arm would allow as various stuffed animals rained down on him. “Have mercy on me, Queen Bingbing!”

 

The losing battle came to an abrupt halt when the two heard footsteps approach them and in an instant, Bingbing dropped the stuffed animals at once as she looked up at the new arrival with an angelic smile. “Good afternoon, Nurse Taehui!”

 

With a kind smile, the nurse bent down and extended her hand out towards the little girl. Zitao watched as Bingbing stood up to leave with Nurse Taehui but before they had reached the door, the nineteen-year-old boy quickly scrambled off the ground and called after them. “Wait, when did you get transferred here to the Cardiology Department? Have you been taking care of Bingbing for me?”

 

Nurse Taehui politely nodded in response and without saying anything, she patiently waited for Bingbing to wave at Zitao before opening the door and walking out with the little girl. As soon as the door shut behind them, the boy frowned.

 

“That Taehui … Are you too good to talk to me?” he asked the closed door with a sulky expression. “Taking my patient away without even exchanging any words with me … I’m Bingbing’s doctor, not you! How can you give Bingbing her heart medication when you can’t even answer a simple question with your voice?”

 

 

The clock on the wall was near approaching two o’clock in the afternoon and that was when Oh Sehun strode into the hospital building with an infuriatingly strong aura of arrogance. He walked along through the hospital halls with his eyes on his phone as he headed towards his psychologist’s office, not even bothering to look up when he bumped into a certain dark-haired training cardiologist with one arm in a sling who was also staring down at his phone.

 

Zitao, on the other hand, stopped on his path and glared at the retreating back of the silver-haired boy as he growled, “Watch where you’re going!” He then returned his attention to his phone and in an ironic sense, he proceeded onwards, also not watching where he was going.

 

When Sehun reached the plastic bench situated beside the door leading to his psychologist’s office, he slumped down on it at once. His eyes and his fingers never left his phone’s screen as he, unbeknownst to himself and to the person with his full attention, exchanged texts with the very person he had just run into.

 

From: 美男Z.TAO

To: King Hun

Any vitamin water left in the fridge?

 

From: King Hun

To: 美男Z.TAO

Lol, of course! ouo Perks of being a king, of course. But … there’s something you should know … I’m almost sorry to tell you … I don’t share my vitamin water >:3

 

From: 美男Z.TAO

To: King Hun

How petty of you. A king should not have an undesirable trait like that. You must be an imposter. Should I give you a warning?

Even if it takes a year, you will surrender your precious vitamin water to me someday. I, Pretty Boy Z.Tao, will make certain of that.

 

From: King Hun

To: 美男Z.TAO

Hahaha, you must be really bored today xD A king is a king but this king is also a high school student. Worry not, my subject, I will be a full-time king soon! >3< And thanks for the warning, lol. I, King Hun, admire your determination. Sadly, your endeavour is one that will never succeed.

 

From: 美男Z.TAO

To: King Hun

Is it obvious that I’m bored? Yes, I really am … I even researched those emoticons you used because I had nothing better to do. Being in a hospital has never been less entertaining.

 

From: King Hun

To: 美男Z.TAO

Pretty Boy, you’re actually a pretty doctor? ^^ No wonder you’re such a boring texter, lmao. If your mission is to have my vitamin water then mine will be to get you to use an emoticon~

 

From: 美男Z.TAO

To: King Hun

The day I use an emoticon won’t ever come. Trust me.

What are you up to, anyway? Shouldn’t a king have important duties even in the midst of summer?

 

Sehun chuckled and was about to text a response back to Pretty Boy Z.Tao, however, his fingers froze on his phone’s screen when he felt a sudden chill in the hallway followed by the clearing of a throat. The silver-haired teenager looked up and tilted his head to the side in curiosity as he waited for the cheery stranger in front of him to speak first.

 

“Excuse me, are you Master Suho’s friend?” the stranger asked brightly as he carefully placed the brown paper lunch bag he was holding down on the seat next to Sehun. “I’m Chef Yifeng. He told you I would be stopping by, didn’t he?”

 

“Can I … help you?” Sehun asked, still nonplussed.

 

The chef nodded and patted the paper bag fondly. “Master Suho said a friend would be waiting to receive his afternoon snacks so here they are. I brought his favourite caviar!”

 

“Caviar?” Sehun repeated in disbelief as his mouth fell open. “I didn’t know psychologists were paid so well … Does Suho just casually have caviar as his afternoon snack?”

 

“No, of course not. He has caviar in the evening. For this afternoon, I have prepared a breakfast delicacy – soy milk and twisted dough sticks!” Chef Yifeng replied with a proud smile and his chest puffed out. “Enjoy, little friend. Delivering snacks is actually not my job; I’m here to see someone in another ward so I’ll get going now. See you around!”

 

With a friendly wave, Chef Yifeng then turned and headed down the hallway away from Sehun and the afternoon snacks. The teenage boy remained silent and waited until the chef had walked out of sight before he grinned down at the paper bag with excited eyes.

 

“Soy milk!”

 

“Youtiao!”

 

The silver-haired teenager, still seated on the plastic bench, wasted no time at all as his hand lunged straight for the closest corner of the brown paper bag sitting beside him. Another hand, presumably belonging to the owner of the second voice, simultaneously reached forward to grab ahold of the other corner.

 

Sehun looked up at once with an overprotective expression, eyes flashing dangerously, but when he saw who his competitor for the paper bag was, a look of recognition filled his face as he groaned. “Not you again …”

 

There, standing in front of the three-seated plastic bench upon which Sehun and the brown paper bag sat, was nineteen-year-old patient Zitao with one arm in a sling and the other attached to the bag of soy milk and twisted dough sticks.

 

 

“So … ‘youtiao’ is what you call twisted dough sticks?” Sehun asked with his lips pressed together thoughtfully, not knowing that he resembled a curious child.

 

His hand was still holding onto a corner of the brown paper bag containing Suho’s afternoon snacks which sat in the middle seat of the plastic bench, effectively separating Sehun from Zitao who was sitting on the other end, next to the door of the psychologist’s office, also with his hand on a corner of the paper bag.

Zitao slowly nodded in response. His eyes were narrowed, suspiciously scrutinising Sehun’s silver-coloured hair to the latter’s dislike.

 

“What?” Sehun finally snapped.

 

“Your hair was pink last week,” Zitao said simply.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Now it’s silver.”

 

“Yes.”

 

The dark-haired boy sighed in displeasure as he concluded his newfound discovery with an unimpressed glare, “The idiot who walked into me downstairs was you.”

 

“Well spotted, Sherlock—” the seventeen-year-old boy shot back and then realisation dawned on him as he suddenly recalled himself waltzing through the hospital lobby like he owned the place and when he thought back even more … He had bumped into someone but he had also completely disregarded the person despite being yelled after. “Oh.”

 

Sehun quickly smiled, his eyes resembling those of a pleased kitten when he did, as he struggled to think of a way to change the topic of conversation. Ignoring the judging stare clearly directed at him, the silver-haired boy hurriedly released his hold on the paper bag and gently shoved Zitao’s hand off the other corner, beaming innocently as he did so, and opened the paper bag to reveal the cling film-wrapped contents proudly sitting within.

 

“I was thinking,” Sehun said in a friendly tone whilst he pulled out the large plate of twisted dough sticks followed by the warm bowl of soy milk and a pair of wooden chopsticks with a floral pattern, setting them down on the centre seat beside the paper bag, “sharing would be a really great idea, right?”

 

He placed the plate of twisted dough sticks in Zitao’s right hand since his left one was tucked in a sling as he happily took the bowl of soy milk for himself. “Deal?” asked Sehun brightly.

 

Zitao looked at Sehun who was still grinning in a persuasive manner, down at the cling filmed surface of the plate he was holding, over at the bowl in the other’s hand then back up at Sehun again. Zitao didn’t say anything and then out of nowhere he started to laugh, so hard that his body trembled with every bout of laughter and just when he thought he was done, he caught sight of Sehun’s confused face which caused him to double over.

 

The seventeen-year-old decided not to bother with Zitao anymore since the nineteen-year-old did not seem likely to finish his giggling fit anytime soon and so, he began to peel away the cling film covering the surface of the bowl of soy milk. His nose had already inhaled the homey scent and his pink tongue was currently coursing over his lips whilst his heart hammered wildly in his chest, almost as if it were dancing in the excitement that soy milk would soon be making its way down his throat. However, before Sehun had a chance to bring the warm bowl of soy milk towards his mouth, he was interrupted by Zitao’s voice.

 

“You’ve never had this type of Chinese breakfast before, have you?” asked Zitao, his face still displaying amusement as he struggled to pull the cling film off his plate using only one hand.

 

“The real question is why you’re having breakfast when it is past lunchtime by now,” Sehun shot back irritably.

 

“You can ask Suho when you go in for your appointment,” Zitao told him. He had finally succeeded in his endeavour and he put his plate down on the seat between him and Sehun before he took the bowl away from the younger boy and also placed it down on the seat. “Let me demonstrate how you are supposed to eat this.”

 

Sehun watched as Zitao slowly picked up the pair of chopsticks with his right hand and he could not explain it but a part of him felt really bad when he saw the other struggling to hold the eating utensils properly. “Are you, by any chance, left-handed?”

 

“Yes,” answered Zitao, his lips thinning with impatience.

 

“Here, let me do it for you,” Sehun offered and before Zitao had a chance to decline help from the enemy, the younger of the two had taken the chopsticks from him. “Now what?”

 

“First, take a twisted dough stick.”

 

The chopsticks hovered over the plate upon which rested the twisted dough sticks – long, crispy strips of dough coloured golden-brown as a result of deep frying and shaped somewhat similarly to the chopsticks that Sehun held. He picked one up and looked expectantly up at Zitao.

 

“Now, dip it in the soy milk.”

 

The bowl beside the plate contained warm soy milk which appeared to be homemade, thick and creamy in texture, with a pleasant fragrance that did not go missed by Sehun. With utmost care, he dipped the twisted dough stick into the soy milk and then held it up towards Zitao who had been watching him closely the entire time.

 

“Here,” said Sehun with an unreadable expression.

 

Zitao opened his mouth in an attempt to feebly protest that he did not like being fed by another person but when he did, Sehun saw his opportunity and took it. The older of the two did not know what to say as he, somewhat satisfied with the current situation, ate the soy milk-dipped fried dough and he did not have the chance to say anything, anyway, because the moment Zitao parted his lips again, Sehun fed him the rest of the twisted dough stick. He did not want to admit defeat but Sehun seemed too determined to get his way.

The nineteen-year-old boy mentally cursed the other for not letting him speak until he found himself intently gazing at Sehun and for reasons unknown to himself, Zitao suddenly felt breathless.

Maybe … maybe despite being completely and utterly evil with terrible habits that ranged from being incredibly arrogant to dyeing his hair peculiar colours, Sehun was not so bad. He certainly did not look bad. He was actually … quite cute and Zitao did not want to think it but yes, Sehun was handsome no matter what crazy and unnatural colour his hair happened to be.

There was just something so enchanting about the seventeen-year-old and Zitao was entranced as he watched Sehun dip a twisted dough stick into the soy milk before taking a bite into the lightly salted snack, teeth meeting the slightly crisp outside before entering the soft, fluffy inside.

But Zitao was quick to return to his senses when he noticed that Sehun was loudly eating with his mouth open and he grimaced as he took his phone out to distract himself.

 

From: 美男Z.TAO

To: King Hun

SOS

 

Sehun set his chopsticks down when he felt a vibration in the pocket of his jeans. He pulled his phone out and when he saw Zitao peering suspiciously at him, he made a big show of turning his back on the other so that he could respond to his text message in privacy.

 

From: King Hun

To: 美男Z.TAO

:3 ?

 

It was Sehun’s turn to wear a suspicious expression when he heard Zitao’s phone vibrate at precisely the same time that Sehun had sent a message to Pretty Boy Z.Tao. He narrowed his eyes as he leant over to not so discreetly peek at what was on Zitao’s phone and his jaw immediately dropped at what he saw.

 

“Pretty Boy Z.Tao?”

 

Zitao frowned at the equally unimpressed Sehun who was holding up his phone to show him the open conversation on the screen.

 

“King Hun?”

 

Sehun tucked his phone back into his jeans, not knowing whether to chuckle or scoff at the unexpected revelation. Zitao, too, was at a loss for words. Neither of them said anything as they stared at one another in disbelief, both still undecided as to whether this abrupt turn of events was supposed to be good or bad.

 

The nineteen-year-old spoke first and when he did, he was wearing a mischievous smirk. “So, you go by the title ‘King Hun’, huh?”

 

The formerly stoic expression on Sehun’s face melted away in an instant and was replaced by one that reflected the look on Zitao’s face. “Are we really going to talk about this, Pretty Boy Z.Tao?” And without realising that he was still speaking aloud, Sehun added, “Well, I suppose you are kind of pretty.”

 

His face paled the second that the words had left his mouth and in order to prevent Zitao from potentially making any snide remarks, Sehun quickly picked up the pair of forgotten chopsticks and offered him another twisted dough stick which, to the surprise of three people, Zitao accepted with a willing bite.

Of all moments in time, Suho with his blue hair and white lab coat just had to choose that very moment to step out of his office and red-handedly catch Sehun leaning forward with a twisted dough stick between his chopsticks whilst Zitao also leant in, turning his head in angle to meet the lightly salted snack. If Suho did not know any better and if he could not see the eating utensils in his rosy-cheeked patient’s hands, he would have definitely assumed that there was a couple happily kissing right outside his office.

 

“Well, well, well.”

 

The two seated boys froze where they were, not daring to move despite the fact that they had just been seen in an exchange so friendly that it had appeared overly intimate. Suho gently patted the shoulder of the patient leaving his office before the psychologist turned to the plastic bench where Zitao was munching on the snack, staring off into the far distance, whilst Sehun sat beside him, stiff as a board and still holding the other half of the twisted dough stick between his chopsticks.

Suho chuckled at the sight and since neither person would move, let alone acknowledge his presence, he busied himself by gathering up the snacks in the middle of the bench and packing them back into the brown paper bag.

 

“Aren’t you two just like a married couple?” said the psychologist.

 

Those were the magic words to lift the freezing spell that appeared to have been cast on his patient and his close friend because they both glared up at him in an instant with equally mortified expressions.

 

“I see you two took care of my afternoon snacks for me,” added Suho, shoving Zitao next to Sehun as he sat down on the seat right beside his office door.

 

Sehun’s ears were reddening with embarrassment by then and he leant across Zitao to return the chopsticks along with the partially-eaten piece of fried dough. “It’s not what it looks like,” he insisted.

 

“And what does it look like? Do you perhaps care to elaborate, Zitao?” asked Suho, amusement twinkling in his smiling eyes.

 

Zitao huffed in annoyance and used his free hand to grab the rest of his twisted dough stick. “Stop playing around, Suho! Get back in your office and take this guy with you.”

 

“Well, so much for what could have been,” sighed Suho disappointedly as he stood up and gave Sehun a calm smile. “Shall we?”

 

The silver-haired boy did not need to be told twice and he hurried into the blue-haired psychologist’s office without sparing another glance at the dark-haired boy he had left sitting alone on the bench.

 

 

Forty-five minutes and several eye-rolls later, the door of the psychologist’s office swung open and out walked Sehun, his face wearing its usual scowl. He was followed by Suho, a clipboard held firmly in one hand and a pleasant smile spread across his face.

 

“Wait for me here, Sehun,” said Suho. “I just need to drop off this paperwork first and I’ll be right back.”

 

The teenage boy nodded and as the sound of his psychologist’s footsteps travelled farther and farther away, he turned to the plastic bench beside the office door which he had expected to be unoccupied but when his eyes landed on a sleeping figure, his expression immediately softened.

 

Why is he still here?

 

Sitting on the centre of the bench and dozing off was none other than Zitao. He had no reason to be there, not to mention he seemed incredibly uncomfortable where he was, and Sehun could not even begin to question what it was that possessed him to take a seat on his sleeping arch nemesis’ left.

 

“I still haven’t forgotten about that bottle of vitamin water you—”

 

Sehun’s remaining words vanished before it could form when he suddenly felt Zitao’s head fall onto his shoulder. His entire body went rigid with shock; he felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him; he was frozen in his spot; he could not move a single muscle. It was his arch nemesis he had resting on him!

Without daring to take a breath, Sehun’s eyes quickly darted to his shoulder and when he took in the sight of Zitao peacefully sleeping, he felt as though the life had returned to him and he exhaled in relief.

 

A small smile found its way onto the silver-haired boy’s lips as he muttered, “How can you look so innocent when you’re not awake? No one would guess that you were evil. Maybe you aren’t so bad after all. You look so cute … Just sleep there then, it’s fine. Only because I’m acknowledging you as a pretty boy. There better not be a second time.”

 

Sehun quickly faced forwards again when he saw Zitao’s eyebrows creasing together; the latter was beginning to stir.

 

I didn’t say any of that.

 

The dark-haired boy’s eyelids fluttered open gradually as he opened his mouth to let out a sleepy yawn. He was just about to drift off back to sleep when he suddenly noticed that there was something strange about the pillow he was using. His eyes shot upwards and when he met Sehun’s gaze – his head still very much laying on the other’s shoulder as he did so – he immediately jumped off the bench and recoiled backwards as if it had been something very disgusting that he had had contact with.

 

“Not you again!” exclaimed Zitao.

 

Sehun was left gaping in his seat, his mouth opening and closing like that of a goldfish as he struggled to articulate words. His opportunity to speak, however, was stolen from him when his psychologist reappeared behind a frowning Zitao.

 

“Am I … interrupting a lover’s spat?” asked Suho, visibly fighting and losing an inward battle in order to maintain a composed expression despite his lips curving to form what should not have been a very entertained grin.

 

“Suho!”

 

“No!”

 

Zitao, who had been the first to protest, turned to the blue-haired psychologist, his formerly displeased expression changing to one of frustration. “The nurse brought my meds here and I got a bit drowsy, that’s all.”

 

“Mm,” was the response he got from Suho who seemed pretty unconvinced with what his colleague had to say. “All right, Zitao.”

 

“You!” the dark-haired boy said sharply, gesturing over to Sehun with his chin. “Just now, I …”

 

His sentence trailed off when he realised that he was not entirely sure what he wanted to say to Sehun. Should he thank him for letting him use his shoulder? Accuse him of being a ert? Threaten him with a restraining order? What was he supposed to tell him?

Signs of Zitao’s internal conflict were evident on his face – his eyebrows were scrunched together, irises moving side to side whilst what appeared to be a bead of sweat trickled down his temple – and it was only when he noticed that both Suho and Sehun were curiously staring at him that Zitao realised he still had not said anything.

 

He glared directly at Sehun again and before he had made a decision as to what he wanted to tell the silver-haired boy, he ended up blurting the first thing on his mind. “Don’t text me at 3am!”

 

And with that, Zitao stormed off down the hallway, looking back only once before disappearing around a corner.

 

“Well, that was … unlike him,” mused Suho. “He hasn’t been himself lately. You should do better at cheering up your boyfriend, Sehun.”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend! This is only the second time we’ve met!” Sehun barked defensively.

 

A pang of guilt instantly hit him when he saw Suho’s bright smile slightly falter. Sehun had not meant to use an overly aggressive tone.

 

He’s only trying to help, he thought to himself.

 

Placing a gentle hand on the silver-haired teenager’s shoulder, Suho spoke again but this time, his tone was serious. “Sehun, don’t forget what I told you this afternoon. I really want you to consider my advice.”

 

 

There are not many people out there in the world who can lie on a couch and share all their problems with a blue-haired psychologist but Sehun didn’t really mind. In fact, he didn’t seem to care at all. If someone were to ask him how he could take Suho seriously then Sehun would tonelessly reply, “How could anyone take me seriously?”

It had been over a year since Sehun had seen the world crumble down all around him, the bright colours in his life reduced to black and white as a result of that one person, his one and only best friend, who had been cruelly taken away from him by the hands of death. His name was Luhan and the day that was his birthday was the day of his disappearance and then it became the day of his death anniversary.

Reports said that it had happened on a dark rainy night, that Luhan’s fall off a bridge and into a river had been a tragic accident. Others ruled it out as a suicide. Sehun had been called to the police station but he said nothing to the prosecutors. He said nothing to his parents. In fact, he completely stopped talking and he ignored every single one of his parents’ attempts to comfort him. It was only the start of the darkest days of his life but Sehun showed no desire to pursue the light at the end of the emotionally dark tunnel. He started dyeing his hair. He refused to eat and would drink only vitamin water because it had been Luhan’s favourite drink. He would regularly wander the streets and wind up getting lost on bridges all across Guangjing and when his parents brought him back, he would spend the rest of the time staring blankly into space and only when evening came would he sit by the window and watch the sun set. Luhan liked sunsets.

And then the worst happened – Sehun’s father found him lying unconscious on the bathroom floor with an empty bottle of sleeping pills. That day had been the first anniversary of Luhan’s death. It was a miracle that Sehun had not fatally overdosed and when he woke up in a hospital bed with his worried parents at his bedside, he finally broke his yearlong silence to assure them that it had not been a suicide attempt.

 

“I was just tired … Tired of everything …” he had said. “But I never wanted to die.”

 

After that incident, everything was different. The first change that happened was the decision for Sehun to see a psychologist on a weekly basis whether he wanted to or not and the moment he met Suho with his blue hair and bright smiles, he learnt to have hope again. It was Suho who was there for Sehun and who helped him overcome the depression he had been diagnosed with after the abrupt loss of Luhan. It was Suho who treated Sehun, who understood him, who did everything that he could to fill that void in Sehun’s life left behind by a certain boy with hair as dark as the night sky and eyes that sparkled like the twinkling stars.

And in the seven months that Sehun had known Suho, he had felt better than he had in a very long time.

 

“Sehun, don’t forget what I told you this afternoon. I really want you to consider my advice.”

 

Exactly one week had passed since his last session and with time to spare before he was to go in for his appointment, Sehun chose to stroll through the hospital grounds. The trees lining the path along which he strode swayed in the wind and Sehun, despite his stunning head of silver, was easily able to blend in with the patients walking by. He had his hands deep in his pockets and his mind even deeper in his thoughts.

 

“I strongly believe that it could make a difference, Sehun, if you were to temporarily stay here at the hospital. You can leave anytime you want. You can also give me an answer anytime you want. Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”

 

Sehun had not made any promises but then again, he had not really responded to Suho’s suggestion. He had tried to consider it but no matter how many times he thought it over, he could not figure out what Suho expected him to get out of the experience. Why should he stay in the hospital when he was fine? He knew better than anyone that he didn’t have a death wish nor did he accept the fact that he supposedly had depression. Why wouldn’t anyone understand that? Did they really assume without any proper basis that he was a danger to himself? Was he really that pitiful?

With a long sigh, Sehun slowed down in his pace, digging his hands deeper in his pockets. He was about to take another step when he noticed a stuffed Hello Kitty toy lying innocently by his feet. He bent down to rescue it from off the ground and when he did, he found himself smiling.

 

It really is the little things in life that make us happy, thought Sehun.

 

“Yay, you found my Hello Kitty!”

 

The silver-haired boy looked down where he caught sight of a little girl dressed in a set of hospital pyjamas, her pigtails swinging from side to side as she jumped up and down with her hands in the air, trying to grab the plushie in Sehun’s grasp.

 

“Tao, Tao!” the little girl cried. “Please tell him finders aren’t keepers!”

 

“Tao?” repeated Sehun in a curious voice.

 

“Come on now, Bingbing, that’s not what you should say,” said an unidentified speaker.

 

Momentarily taking his eyes off the upset little girl, he raised his head and – surprise, surprise – there in front of him stood that Zitao who he was more than well-acquainted with. Honestly, the guy was everywhere.

 

“Not you again,” Sehun muttered under his breath although both Zitao and Bingbing caught his words. He crouched down to Bingbing’s level and smiling again, he held out the stuffed Hello Kitty toy. “Here you go. I’m returning her to you. Do you promise to keep a closer eye on Hello Kitty from now on?”

 

Bingbing happily nodded as she pulled Hello Kitty into her small arms. “I promise I will! Thank you so, so much for finding her! I thought she was lost forever …”

 

And it was the last thing he expected when after Hello Kitty, Sehun was next to receive a hug from an overjoyed Bingbing. He was slightly taken aback but as he mentally reminded himself, the little things in life are among what makes us happy and Bingbing certainly was a sweet little bundle of joy.

 

Wrapping his arms around Bingbing, he softly patted her back as he kindly told her, “Nothing is lost forever. If it’s meant to be, it will come back to us one day. We just have to be patient.”

 

“Wise words, Sehun,” commented Zitao, clearly pleased.

 

The silver-haired boy peered blankly up over Bingbing’s shoulder at the dark-haired boy. He had almost forgotten that Zitao was there. Letting go of Bingbing first, Sehun stood up straight and stole a glance at his watch.

 

“I have to get going …”

 

He quickly walked past Zitao and Bingbing and he had probably taken less than ten steps away when the dark-haired boy called after him.

 

“Sehun.”

 

The named boy whirled around. “Yes … Zitao?”

 

“Thank you,” said the other, a genuinely grateful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thanks for helping Bingbing.”

 

“Sure.” Sehun nodded at Zitao and raised a hand up to wave goodbye to Bingbing who was still beaming. “Anytime.”

 

And as the seventeen-year-old headed once more in the opposite direction towards the hospital entrance, he felt even lighter than the silver strands of his hair.

 

 

When one had a dislocated shoulder and was forced to keep his main arm in a sling, one did not generally respond very well. And when that one happened to be Zitao, the dark-haired training cardiologist turned full-time irritable patient, he did not respond very well at all. His stay in the hospital was meant to last only two days but all he had to do was shoot glares and hiss “I have lost things you will never understand”, and before anyone knew it, those two days had become two weeks.

The fundamental problem was not that he was stuck without the availability of his main arm but rather that his emotional pain h