I swear this is supposed to be 2k+ words only, but whoops.

Enjoy! (っ´ω`c)♡

.

.

“Today’s been a good day.” Kim Mingyu, with both hands stuffed inside his uniform pants' pockets and coolly walking as if in a video music or something, muses contentedly to his reflection (and to his fans reflections too maybe, or maybe not) on the science laboratory windows he passes.

Today, Mingyu thinks with bliss, the sky is clear. No grey-coloured clouds in sight. The sun is shining enthusiastically and everything is dry. No heavy raincoats. No puddles of muddy water in the road. And especially, no runny noses. Very much unlike the last few weeks when everything is cold, wet, and with a lot touch of rainy days and a great deal of cumulonimbus. And exam weeks, too—oh God, that’s the vital part, which ended just three days ago.

Pretty much the very definition of misery, Mingyu justifies solemnly, especially because the ‘exam weeks’ hell applied for him only for not being able to come when the others had theirs. In other words, his make-up exams.

Perks of being an idol, he tells himself with sarcasm.

Today, though, it’s all rainbows and sunshine and sweet and candy for him. Not only because, bye, bye, rain! Come again another decade! But also because, wow, did I just pass my exams? As in, literally every one of them? Holysh— Even physics and maths and if that isn’t miracle, Mingyu don’t know what is. Also, beside his newest song gets to the top of this week’s chart (he is an idol, yes he is), he also passed Lee Jihoon this morning.

Who is Lee Jihoon, you ask?

One of his beloved hyungs that are kind of random in the heads, but different from each other. Jihoon is the one you shouldn’t mess up with, to be precise.

It was the time after his P.E class (he walked out the last because 1) his teacher loves his assistance the most, especially to put the volley balls back to their respective places 2) empty hallways are always better than fan-filled hallways) that Mingyu—who walks like the idol he is; calm, collected, and surreptitiously—found a suspicious mop of pink in a corner. Everyone else should be in class, so his first guess was that that mop of pink is a giant cotton candy. Or a giant strawberry ice cream. But then he remembered cotton candy and strawberry ice cream (with cone or stick and oh, Mingyu would kill for ice creams) didn’t have a human body that he dismissed those thoughts. Or perhaps that’s a new type of sweets?

Being the curious soul he is, Mingyu promptly came nearer until he is close enough to see what’s happening there, but still in the safe zone in case he needed to make an emergency escape. Especially after he realized just what or who exactly he’d deal with.

The suspicious mop of pink turned out to be Jihoon—Jihoon-hyung. He was wearing an oversized pastel sweater (Mingyu’d bet that’s Soonyoung-hyung’s or a gift from him. Soonyoung is one of Mingyu’s random hyungs too) and he was crouched down in front of a white kitten (Mingyu doesn’t have the slightest idea as to why that creature was in the empty hallway), petting it joyfully.

A total once in a blue moon kind of sight, Mingyu decided, especially after he looked around and found no Kwon Soonyoung in sight (Jihoon is a normal, cute human being—not the grumpy old man he always looks like—only when his boyfriend is present). Maybe he thought he was alone, but, well, Mingyu was there. Not only passing, but he also had the nerve to stop and witness the very adorable scene with both eyes.

Later, a second later, Mingyu was too happy and giddy to even remember the small, pink haired fairy is Satan’s spawn in disguise. A forbidden word slipped out of his lips. He called Jihoon cute. And winked. He winked at Lee Jihoon—Lee ‘touch me and I’m going to murder you in your sleep’ Jihoon. And called him cute.

Normally, he’d be pretty dead. Not later in his sleep, but on the spot. And mutilated. Then his body parts would be thrown off of a cliff or be given to hungry carrion birds. Or maybe he’d be sent straight to hell.

Today, though, Jihoon just looked up at him and gave him an incredulous look. Or a mix of amused and disgusted look. Or a mix of all three. Maybe he thought Mingyu was drunk or something because sane Mingyu wouldn’t be so stupid (he is stupid at daily basis, Jihoon ever said, but not this stupid—it almost suicidal). Or maybe he mistook Mingyu as an escaped mental patient. Mingyu didn’t know which is worst.

Whichever was that, Mingyu got away unscratched. It was, with no doubt, a miracle.

Mingyu smiles foxily at the memory. Maybe he should have jumped and attacked Jihoon with a bear hug just to test how far his luck would go.

“Very good day indeed,” he says to anyone who bother hearing him (which is like, almost everyone in the now crowded hallway). His very handsome, very dazzling face (his fangirls’ opinion, not his. Mingyu isn’t that narcisstic, excuse you) shines so brightly that you can literally see everyone around him either melt or scream (i.e. throwing love confessions and marriage proposals at him) and there is no in-between.

Or probably there is, because Chwe Hansol is striding a foot beside him. His face is another perfect definition of misery and he is stomping his feet with each step like a sulky kid.

“Good for you, hyung,” says the half Caucasian. His head hangs so low it almost looks like he wants to hug the cold, dirty, white-coloured tiles beneath them. “How about me? Losing my headphones—no, no, you don’t understand how much I love that headphones—is bad enough. Then, surprise, I got detention afterwards for wailing about my missing soul mate. Perfect. I know Mrs. Jung is a cold-hearted witch, but I never knew she is a cold-hearted .”

“You are over dramatic and you wailed so much until you’re late to her class.”

“You don’t understand, hyung.”

“Neither does she.” Hansol wails again beside him. “And I thought you love libraries,” Mingyu continues, frowning. Utterly ignoring his dongsaeng loud cry of despair. “I thought trapped with Seungkwan for—uhh, an hour and something, won’t change that.”

“It’s five hours. Five ing hours, hyung!” Another wail.

Somehow, from somewhere inside the crowd around them, a brunet shouts, “Language, young man!”

Hansol scowls and shouts back, “Shut up, Jisoo-hyung!” Then turns his attention back to a snickering Mingyu who quickly shuts up. “Where was I again—Oh, yes. It was like I got up from bed today and bother myself to school only to arrange those fat- books with him. And he can’t stop talking. As in literal sense. Absolutely can’t.” Hansol emphasizes with whatever weird gestures he makes with his hands. Mingyu thinks he looks like a flailing bird. Or a chocked fish. Or both. “He explained why he had come late so detailed—he even sang his morning alarm! In the library!” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “We got double detention for pissing the librarian off.”

“An hour and four more hours it is, then.” Mingyu shrugs, nonchalant. But then he remembers about Seungkwan’s morning alarm, he puts a comforting hand on Hansol shoulder. Totally can relate to him like one hundred percent and more.

“Boo’s been like that since forever, you know,” he says again. “But not to everyone. Only the ones he likes.” At this, Mingyu watched Hansol’s facial expressions change with amusement. “Rather than omen, I daresay you’re lucky because I remember with clear clarity you said something about him being cute last week.”

They turn right and pass more giggling fangirls. The giggling fangirls became maddening fangirls when Mingyu starts grinning, canine teeth and all. Not because of them, but because he just hits a jackpot. Hansol’s head hangs even lower, his chin might as well touches his neck.

“R-really?” He stutters, peeking in between brown fringe. His pissed off mood flies out of the window to a basketball court where a certain long-haired male shoots an orange ball with grace. “I mean, he likes me?”

Mingyu’s grin gets wider and too triumphant for Hansol’s liking. “So, you won’t deny saying he is cute?”

“Shut up, hyung!” Hansol flushes. “I know what I said and I think more than half of our school population agree that he is cute. What’s different when I said it?” His face turns several shades darker. He kind of remind Mingyu of the strawberry shortcake he got from his fan at lunch last week. Or maybe a certain mop of pink, but a tad bit darker than that.

“Hmm…” Mingyu hums and contemplates it for a second before his phone starts buzzing. A message has arrived and a grin finds its way to Mingyu’s face again. Hansol is miffed seeing it at this rate. Good thing Mingyu is one his favourite hyungs. “Perhaps it is because he said something about liking you just now? I mean, he likes me too, but no, it’s different when it’s you.”

“What?”

Mingyu lets him see said message he got from Seungkwan. It goes like this:

[Hey, hyung! Remember Chwe Hansol? Vernon?? The one I talked about last week? Your club-mate? That one guy with twinkling eyes, flashy teeth and perfect hair? Structured jaw and damn accent? And and y abs asdffghjkl??¿ Can you give me his email? Phone number? ID LINE? Address? Anything? Please, please, please?????]

And there are lots of emojis like this: ｡ﾟ✶ヾ(o≧∀≦o)ﾉﾞ✶ﾟ｡ and this: ♡〜٩(≧ω≦)۶〜♡

Mingyu’s grin is so wide by now, it almost reaches his eyes. Like, literally almost reaches his eyes. Instead of annoyed, Hansol is afraid his hyung will turn into Jeff the Killer by any second.

“Woah, he described you pretty handsomely, hm?” Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows teasingly. “Now, it’s not ‘different’ anymore. You can say confidently that you’re ‘special’, Hansol-ssi. Congratulations!”

In other words, what Mingyu truly meant is that getting that kind of remark from Boo Seungkwan is passably impressive. Like, absolutely impressive. Everyone knows how pungent and biting and slicing Seungkwan’s words can be sometimes, especially to those he isn’t close with. Just like Jihoon’s glares and wrath. Deadly. But if Jihoon is like heirloom roses—thorns and all that can make your fingers bleed, Seungkwan is like mountain laurel with its toxin and its flowers that attract bees but the honey produced can cause low blood pressure and death.

And, Mingyu is like a giant sunflower with very bright, very warm like sunshine petals. And surrounded by butterflies—lots of butterflies. Then Hansol is there like bees, drawn to such lethal plant that against all odds, becomes atoxic just for him.

Well, love is that miraculous anyways, Mingyu justifies.

Hansol goes even redder. He resembles tomato so much at this rate that Mingyu feels tempted to bring one and compare them both to see how far they looks like each other. He also mumbles something under his breath that Mingyu can’t keep up with, but he eventually stops and looks up.

“Wait. He talked about me to you?”

A nod. “To me, Jisoo-hyung, Seokmin, Ryeowook-seonsaengnim—he happened to be there, I don’t even remember why so don’t ask—and Minghao. Convinced yet?”

“About what?”

“Your rap, mostly, and more ramblings like the one you just read.” Mingyu inclined his head. The cafeteria must be crowded, he thinks all of a sudden. Maybe he doesn’t have to get lunch. It won’t kill him anyway. Unlike Jihoon’s guitar. Or just Jihoon, with bare hands. “Bet you can’t imagine Seokmin’s grin throughout the whole talk. It’s eerie.”

Mingyu mumbles something about Jisoo-hyung and Seonsaengnim just sat there with knowing gazes too, but all Hansol can think of is Mingyu’s creepy grins from before.

“Oh, I bet I can,” says Hansol, shivering. Mingyu raises an eyebrow quizzically. Hansol stops him before he can even think of opening his mouth. “No, don’t ask. You don’t wanna know. Trust me.”

“Okay.”

Hansol sighs. Quite loudly, but Mingyu doesn’t have his attention on him anymore. They are in the cafeteria right now (not really inside, they are somehow hiding behind a pillar) and no Boo Seungkwan in sight.

“Hyung?” He calls.

Mingyu’s eyes are all over the place, frantically searching for a place to sit that is also a place free from his fangirls—which is kind of nonexistence, in Hansol’s opinion. Yes, there is a straight rule about not buzzing an idol’s school life, but some people just don’t listen. Especially, when he thinks of it, he remembers there is a friendly basketball match between their school and another school which he doesn’t care enough to know the name of.

Well, that’ll explain why there are more annoying screaming girls in the crowd than usual.

Hansol sighs, twice. “Hyung?” He calls again, a pitch higher.

Mingyu is muttering and nodding to himself about ice creams. Probably planning to get three or four right now, instead of having to sit on one of the benches with his fangirls throwing love-struck winks at him.

“Hyung?”

Mingyu is pouting like a sulky kid right now, blaming the school for not providing ice creams when he needs them the most, which Hansol guesses, almost all the time.

Hansol groans. He is tired of sighing by now, so he kicks Mingyu’s shin. “Hyung?!”

Mingyu almost jumps ten feet in the air. “Aw—Hey! What was that for?!”

He mumbles something about “…disrespectful brat,” and “…’m not giving your contact to Seungkwan,” under his breath in retaliation. Hansol brushes that off, utterly knowing one way or another his hyung will definitely end up giving Seungkwan what he demands.

Diva Boo—Seungkwan’s glorious tittle—gets what he wants. Another straight rule.

“That’s for being deaf.” Hansol rolls his eyes. “You know, never mind. I’m going now. Good luck.”

“Wait!” Hansol is about to spin around and fly away to a place where he can dig a hole and bury himself ten feet underground when Mingyu stops him rather desperately and holds onto him for dear life. “You can’t leave me here, Hansol-ah,” he pleads. “You can’t.”

An unspoken: ‘This is practically the Amazon river with its aquatic beasts and anacondas and all that can eat you alive—how can you leave me alone? Do you want me to die?’ goes pretty clear to Hansol.

Another roll of eyes. Mingyu looks at him like a kicked puppy. Hansol hates that look with passion.

“Fine,” he grumbles and stops trying to break free from Mingyu’s goddamn strong arms.

Mingyu gives him h