Taemin’s POV

                I laughed quietly as I placed my Biology textbook in my locker and shut the door. The look on Jonghyun hyung’s face had been absolutely priceless. The fashionable boy definitely had a way with words.

                I pushed open the door to my foods class and immediately took my seat. While the other students milled around the classroom, talking to their friends and drawing pictures on the whiteboard, I pulled out my notebook and studied the amino acids and proteins we had learned about last week. I was probably the only one who had remembered that we had a test on them today.

                My classmates frantically found their seats as the bell rang and the teacher walked in. Instead of going silent, however, a wave of whispers rippled across the room, distracting me from my notes. I glanced up to see what all the fuss was about.

                At the front of the classroom, standing next to the teacher, was the fashionable boy from lunch. He had one hand in the pocket of his purple skinny jeans; the other wrapped around the strap of his hot pink messenger bag. His multicolored hair hid his eyes as he stared at the carpet.

                “Class,” the teacher said loudly, raising a hand to signal for the students to be quiet. “This is Kim Kibum. He just moved here, so make him feel welcome, okay?”

                “Yes, teacher,” the class responded obediently.

                “Kibum, you can take that seat right over there.”

                I was so focused on my protein structures that I didn’t see which seat the teacher pointed to, so I jumped slightly when Kibum’s pink bag landed on the carpet near my feet and he slid into the chair next to me.

                “No need to be startled,” he muttered, reaching up to reposition a stray lock of hair across his forehead. “I don’t bite.”

                I simply nodded and stared at my notes again. I could hear the girls behind me complimenting his jacket and squealing over his hair. The small smirk on his face told me that he could hear them, too.

                As the teacher ran through her lecture on the food pyramid, Kibum seemed to be the only one in the class who took careful and detailed notes. My notes were sufficient, but he flew through page after page of notebook paper, cramming each line with minute details in his flowing handwriting. I watched in amazement. He didn’t seem like the studious type, but, then again, you can’t judge a book by its cover.

                “All right, class,” the teacher called as the period drew to a close. “I have one last thing for you today. For your semester project, I want you to create a 3D, labeled model of the food pyramid.”

                A groan of annoyance ran around the classroom.

                The teacher sighed and held up her hand again. “I’m not done yet! You get to be in groups for this project” – the students became excited again – “but I’m picking them.”

                Dang it.

                She quickly passed out the grading rubric for the assignment and proceeded to put the students into their groups. I sighed. I hated group work. I always, always got stuck with the slacker kids who sat and played video games while I put in all the effort.

                “Kibum and Taemin, you two will be in a group, okay?”

                I jumped again as the teacher’s voice pulled me out of my musings. Kibum? I got to work with Kibum? He didn’t seem like the slacker type at all. I smiled and did a mental cheer.

                Kibum silently took the rubric and scanned its contents.

                “Are you good at arts and crafts, Taemin?” He asked, staring at the page.

                I looked over at him. “Umm… not really. I’ll try my best, though.”

                He glanced at me and smiled. Even his smile seemed fashionable, like something pulled from the pages of a magazine.

                “It’s okay if you aren’t. I just so happen to be the master of all things creative.”

                “Oh really? Well, I guess you’ll get the bulk of this project then…”

                He held up a finger to stop me. The movement tied in so perfectly with his brilliant hair and blinding jacket, I couldn’t help but laugh. He was a complete diva, through and through.

                “Don’t think you’re off the hook, mister. I can still find plenty of work for you to do, trust me.”

                “No, no,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I want to work! I want to help.”

                Kibum laughed and placed the rubric into his bag. “You’re adorable! Like a little kid.”

                I pouted reflexively. “I am not like a kid! Why does everyone say that?"

                Kibum laughed again and ruffled my hair. I glared at him as he snagged his bag from the floor and began to walk away.

                “Y-yah!” I shouted, stuffing my notebook into my backpack and running after him. He turned around as I grabbed his wrist. “When do you want to meet up to work on the project?”

                He tapped his finger against his chin as he thought. “Is today all right? I’d like to get it started as soon as possible.”

                I nodded and adjusted my backpack strap as it began to slip off my shoulder. “Yeah, today is fine. Your house or mine?”

                “Yours,” he responded without hesitation. He glanced at the floor quickly and then looked back at me with a small smile. His eyes, however, were anything but happy. He seemed a bit nervous, although I couldn’t imagine why. I was suddenly reminded of him in the cafeteria, sitting alone with his head bent, not speaking to anyone. The look in his eyes now seemed to reflect that situation. He seemed to be harboring some deep, dark loneliness that I couldn’t comprehend.

                “Umm… okay, sure. My house is fine,” I said with a smile, trying to cheer him up. “See you later, then? How about four?”

                “Works for me,” he said cheerfully, but I could still see the sadness in his face.

                I gave him my sweetest smile, and I was relieved when I saw him laugh.

                “You really are too cute,” he said, smiling at me as he ruffled my hair again.

                “Yah~! Don’t do that!” I whined, reaching up to cover my head.

                He stuck his tongue out at me and slipped a piece of notebook paper into my hand. I glanced at it quickly and saw that it had his phone number scrawled on it.

                “Text me with your address, Minnie,” he called over his shoulder as he walked away.

                I nodded and headed outside, instinctively turning in the direction of my house. Kibum’s parting comment replayed itself in my head.

                Did he just call me Minnie?

Key’s POV

                I hunched my shoulders against the cold wind as I walked home. I could feel it tugging at my hair, desperately trying to wrench it from its sleek and careful style. I pulled my bag higher up on my shoulder and reviewed the day’s events. Taemin seemed sweet and adorable, like a little kid who needed to be taken care of. His friends from lunch were hilarious, and I found myself wanting to know them better.

                You can’t do that, Key. I shook my head quickly. Making friends was much too dangerous. One little slip could cause them all to tumble down the mountain and into the trap of drunken hate lying at the bottom. My family was my problem and my problem only. Nobody else needed to get involved.

                I hurried up the porch steps and into the house. It was freezing inside, and I shook my head when I realized that nobody had remembered to turn up the thermostat. My mother was passed out at the kitchen table with an empty bottle of tequila clutched in her hand. My father was in the living room, spread out on the couch with his eyes glued to the TV and his hand equally stuck to a glass of beer. He narrowed his eyes at me as I adjusted the temperature.

                “Whaddaya think yer doin’?” he slurred, stumbling off the couch and lurching toward me. He brandished his beer glass in my face, sloshing half of its contents onto the gritty beige carpet. “You don’t pay the heating bill! Don’t mess with things that aren’t yer business, boy!”

                “You don’t pay the heating bill half the time, either,” I muttered, moving the lever until it reached a satisfactory temperature. I turned quickly on my heel and headed upstairs.

                “Get back here!” My father bellowed, grasping at the air merely inches from my jacket sleeve. I tried to back away, my feet tripping over the narrow steps as my hand gripped the railing. My father swore under his breath and smiled triumphantly when his fingers managed to take hold of my wrist. I jerked my arm back in panic, slamming my elbow against the banister in my desperate attempt to get free. His fingers tightened, slowly cutting off the blood supply to my hand. A vicious smile played across his face as he yanked on my arm with all of his strength.

                A sickening pain shot through my shoulder as I tipped forward. I reached out for the banister, but my fingers only closed on empty air. My knees slammed into the steps as I fell, and I heard my father laugh as I tumbled down. My head smacked into the railing as I landed in a limp heap at the bottom of the stairs. I cried out in pain and immediately hated myself for the hot tears that spilled down my cheeks. I was supposed to be stronger than this. Tears only fueled his malicious fire.

                I squeezed my eyes shut as he leaned over me, his foul breath enveloping me in a cloud of overwhelming stench. I flinched at the sharp sound of breaking glass and dared to open my eyes slightly. He had smashed his beer glass against the wall and was now holding one of the jagged shards in his fist, the crystal clear material stained red with the blood that ran in rivulets down his arm.

                “You wanna know the one thing you deserve, boy?” He hissed, glaring at me. “You deserve to feel the pain you make me go through every single day of your worthless existence. I deserve better than you.”

                The image of the blond boy at lunch suddenly flashed across my mind, like a camera in a darkened room.

                “I deserve better than this, you know.”

                I felt another tear escape as I stared into my father’s wild, drunken eyes. I wished more than anything that the blond boy were here now. I wished Taemin and the chicken maniac and the tall, dark-haired boy would run in through the door and pull my father away. I wished they would all pick me up and carry me away, as far away as we could get, to a place where I would feel safe. A place where I didn’t have to be afraid of my own house. A place where people loved me.

                Tears transformed my vision into a watery abyss of despair. The shard of sparkling glass streaked through the air like a shooting star. The small bit of hope that resided in the darkest corners of my heart tried to make a wish on it like a small child.

                “I wish my parents would love me again...”

                “I don’t want to die…”

                The jagged edge of the glass kissed my skin, sending waves of agony up my arm. I bit my lip to keep from screaming as the glass cut deeper. I could feel a trail of blood snaking toward my hand and dripping off my fingertips. The room spun as bright spots gathered at the edges of my vision.

                My father smiled again and threw the glass to the carpet. He ground the heel of his foot into my hand as he stood up, smirking at the expression of agony that twisted my features. I struggled to a sitting position as he walked away, wiping the tears from my face with a shaking hand. I applied pressure to the gash on my arm, flinching as the blood pooled around my fingers. My head ached and I staggered slightly as I got to my feet. A crimson trail s behind me as I made my way slowly up the stairs to the bathroom. I had a first aid kit hidden there for times like these.

                I ground my teeth together as I bandaged the cut. It was deep, but I was sure it would heal without stitches. I used several drops of foaming hand soap to clean the blood from my arm, thankful that my father had rolled up the sleeve of my jacket. It was my favorite, and I wasn’t about to let it get ruined because I couldn’t clean up my own blood fast enough.

                I scrubbed my face to remove any traces of tears and ran a comb through my hair. After a few deep breaths and a bit of eyeliner, I looked almost normal. Only those who knew me well would be able to see the fear that lurked behind my eyes.

                The sudden chiming of my phone made me jump in surprise. I snatched it from my pocket and scanned it quickly. It was Taemin giving me the address to his house. I had completely forgotten about the food pyramid project. I pulled my jacket sleeve over the bandage and checked to make sure all my other bruises were carefully covered. The last thing I needed was Taemin asking questions.

                I headed down the stairs, expertly dodging the pool of blood that stained the beige carpet. I snagged my school bag from the floor and ran outside, ignoring my father’s belligerent yelling.

                The walk to Taemin’s house was a short one, and I climbed the porch steps quickly, eager to see his smiling face. I instantly felt happier as he opened the door and grinned up at me.

                “Hello hyung~!” He said cheerfully.

                “Hey, Minnie.” I laughed and ruffled his hair, smiling as he pouted and reached up to fix it.

                As we walked inside, I saw dozens of arts and crafts materials spread across the living room floor. A boy was sitting on the carpet, shuffling through the supplies. He glanced up as Taemin closed the door behind us. His blond hair was slightly messy, and his eyes widened when he saw me standing in the entrance.

                “Jonghyun hyung, this is Kibum. Kibum, this is Jonghyun hyung,” Taemin said with a huge grin, gesturing back and forth between us.

                Jonghyun only stared, and his face slowly went red as I smiled at him. I walked over and put my finger under his chin, forcing him to close his mouth and adopt a more normal-looking expression.

                “Your face is going to get stuck that way,” I said with a laugh.

                Jonghyun backed away quickly and averted his eyes. I laughed again and picked up a bright pink piece of poster board from the floor.

                “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

     Yahh! I'm so glad I finally got this chapter up. I was having a major case of writer's block today, so... I'm sorry if it's not the best. >.<  I almost started crying while I was writing it... Sigh. -_-  Am I a wimp? Haha >.<  Well~ I'm off to a Christmas party. Before I go, I want to let all of you guys know that I FREAKING LOVE YOU ALL! Your comments make me so happy. <3 <3 Let me know what you think~  <3 <3  ^;^