“It’s a gala,” I practically yell. “Of course you have be dressed up! If you can’t manage a tuxedo then at least manage something in the way of a dark or black suit!”

“But it’s so stuffy!” he whines.

I take a deep breath, digging deep within myself to find the last shred of patience. I, for one, am dressed in a tuxedo with bowtie, and I look very debonair in it. DK said so. I honestly don’t understand what Jeonghan’s problem with dressing well is, but he arrives out of the men’s bathroom in a plain black suit and I’m mollified.

“There,” I smile brightly. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I hate you, and everything about you,” he fires back.

“Wow, what an utterly heart-breaking revelation,” I deadpan. “I had no idea. I’m so hurt. Shocker. Are you done griping?”

He gives me a sarcastic look, instead of a death glare, and I think I may have finally broken him in now. “Are we going, or what?”

I roll my eyes and simply lead the way downstairs, to where music is alread pumping out of huge speakers I managed to cinch. The Prefects are all waiting by the doors, in similar tuxedoes to mine.

“You look good,” Wonwoo says measuredly.

“Gotta keep up appearances,” I grin. “Thanks, Wonwon.”

“Come on, Prince Charming,” DK laughs, taking my hands. “I want to dance with you!”

I wasn’t looking for him, but he is there all of a sudden, watching me from the sideline. He’s got his arms crossed and he’s staying out of the path of the strobe lights, so I can’t really tell what he’s wearing. All I know is that he has a very defined brow and beautiful eyes, and they’re on me.

I’m not even really thinking about what I’m doing: I wire my way through the mass of dancing bodies until suddenly I’m off the mad dance floor, the boys in tuxes and girls in floor-length dresses, and I’m standing in front of him.

Plain black suit. Arms crossed.

“You’re staring at me,” I tell him over the sound of the music.

His expression lightens a little; his eyes twinkle a little with mischief. “I’m just making sure you don’t fall over again.”

I pout at that. I don’t want him thinking I’m some sort of ditz or something. “I’m not usually like that.”

“Oh?”

“I was on the top of a float this morning. Call it belated vertigo.”

“Suuuure,” he grins. “If you say so.”

I fold my arms to match him. “Weren’t you the one who said it was cute?”

He doesn’t answer: he just smiles more.

“Don’t tease cute people,” I warn.

“Or what?”

I pause. “Or they won’t be so cute anymore.”

He breaks out into a laugh, and even his laugh is handsome. He drops his arms and sticks one hand in his pocket. “You make it sound like a threat,” he taunts.

“Maybe that’s how I mean it to sound.” There’s a tall, small round table in between us: I rest my arms on it, leaning in.

He does the same, leaning forward until we’re very close to each other. “What if I don’t feel so threatened?” he smirks. “Maybe I’d like to see you be a little less cute.”

I can feel my cheeks heating up, but I’m hoping it’s dark enough for nobody to notice. “Oh yeah? And what should I be, instead? To make up for the missing cuteness?”

He pretends to think about it, tapping his finger against his lips as he looks up. When his eyes dart back down to me, they’re hot-loaded with mischief. “You could try being y.”

Now I’m definitely red all over, to the tips of my ears. And I’m desperately thinking what I can possibly say to that, and not stutter at the same time. A few seconds pass, and he laughs.

“I’m just teasing, Joshua. You can be as cute as you want. Don’t worry, I’ll still catch you if you fall.”

“How kind of you,” I answer, embarrassed.

He looks out over the dance floor than looks back at me. “Want to go get a breather?”

I nod, and he takes me by the wrist to lead me out the back door: we step out into the front courtyard and he pulls me over to the wall that looks out over a little man-made pond between the school and the road. He lets me go to rustle in his inner pocket, and held up a cardboard box. “Do you mind?”

I bridle a moment. “Smoking is bad for you,” I tell him. “Cigarettes can kill you.”

He smirks, pulling one out. “I think I’ll be alright.”

I wince, remembering the pain in my chest this morning. “If you’re going to smoke, mind doing it down-wind? Second-hand smoke is still gonna mess me up.”

He smiles a moment and walks around me to stand on my left side. “Better?”

A strong breeze comes from the right and I smile. “Much, thank you.”

He chuckles, pulling a lighter out of his pocket. “Yo