Hyunseung knows it’s because he’s not good enough.

                It doesn’t matter how Yang-seonsangnim says it, Hyunseung knows it’s because he’s not good enough. He’s not angry at Seunghyun—he doesn’t blame anyone, doesn’t feel any resentment towards the other four. He’s not angry at Jiyoung, either. He’s sad about Jiyoung—he can’t deny that. And it hurts—it hurts so much—that all of this happened, snowballed, right after Jiyoung has told him about Seunghyun.

                It’s all because Hyunseung’s not good enough, and he knows that. There’s nothing he can do about it. All that’s left to do is leave.

                He meets Yang Yoseob first.

                Yoseob is bright and energetic and adorable and sarcastic and witty and smart and he brings out just the same in Hyunseung—it’s easy to be happy around Yoseob, easy to be playful and teasing with him. He’s glad that it’s Yoseob who’s chosen by the headmaster to introduce Hyunseung around the school on his first day because Yoseob makes Hyunseung feel confident, and confidence is what everyone wants to emanate on their first day anywhere.

                Hyunseung is brought to the cafeteria where students are coming through, eating breakfast, finishing homework, sleeping, a flurry of activity to get done before the bell rang for students to move to their respective homerooms. Yoseob leads him to a table with four other boys—first years, Hyunseung assumes.

                Hyunseung has never met Yoseob before, but this is the high school that is connected with Hyunseung’s old middle school, so when Yoseob brings him to these four other boys, Hyunseung still remembers them clear as day. He still remembers Lee Changsun who everyone has always called Lee Joon because of how he couldn’t pronounce his own name in kindergarten. He still remembers Yoon Doojoon who was so obsessed with soccer that it was almost unhealthy. He still remembers Jung Yonghwa who always seemed to have a guitar with him—always seemed to have a pair of headphones around his neck. He still remembers Yong Junhyung—nothing particularly special about him to Hyunseung, but he remembers him.

                “That’s not fair,” Yoseob says, widening his eyes and grinning. “All of you know him from last year and I don’t.”

                “Well now you do,” Yonghwa says good-naturedly. “And we didn’t know each other that well either.”

                “You were always hanging out with that other kid,” Joon says thoughtfully. “The one in the year below us, right?”

                Hyunseung raises his eyebrows. “Lee Kikwang?” He hasn’t really spoken to Kikwang ever since he started at the other school, and ever since he was rejected out of it. But he sees why they would associate him and Kikwang—Hyunseung never considered his years in seventh and eighth grade to be a permanent thing. He thought that they would just be transitioning years until he went to his dream high school, meaning he never bothered to enjoy those two years. Kikwang was probably the only thing that made Hyunseung smile during that one year.

                “He’s coming here next year,” Junhyung says.

                “Oh,” Hyunseung responds.

                There’s an awkward moment of silence then, that probably would have gone on a lot longer, and more painfully were it not for Yoseob clapping his hands together and saying, “So—what sports do you play?”

                Doojoon perks up. “I remember you being a beast at soccer,” he grins. “Do you still play?”

                Hyunseung feels his ears warm up and it feels like gravity is pulling his chin towards his neck, yanking him to face the ground, but if he’s learned one thing from Jiyoung, he’s at least learned to force himself to look forward because if you look down then you lose. But looking forward takes up everything he has left, so he just gives a small smile and says, “Not really. I kind of lost it.”

                “Ah,” Doojoon looks at him apologetically. “Yeah—I heard that school you went to was crazy smart and everything. You probably didn’t have any more time to play if you kept up with the insane smartness, right?”

                “You sound so stupid right now, you know that?” Yoseob says to Doojoon.

                Doojoon’s mouth drops and he looks around to the other boys who all seem to be pretending not to hear. “How can—guys!” he says incredulously.

                “You’re adorable,” Joon says to Yoseob and gives him a notebook.

                “Thanks, hyung,” Yoseob smiles but Hyunseung can see hi kick Doojoon’s ankle underneath the table. “You did page one-hundred-twenty, too, right?” Yoseob gets out his own notebook, as Doojoon glares glumly away, and starts copying the answers from Joon’s book which turns out to have a multitude of geometric shapes neatly drawn in it.

                “Here,” Yonghwa says, scooting over to make room. “Sit,” he gives Hyunseung a smile.

                “Oh—yeah, thanks,” Hyunseung says, surprised into speaking and takes the offered seat. He looks around as Yonghwa continues to listen to the music playing into his ears while simultaneously pretending to listen to Joon’s ongoing babble. Junhyung is quickly finishing what looks like a Korean translation from a passage in an American novel. Doojoon is trying to stop Yoseob from copying Joon’s math homework with promises of candy and more correct math homework to copy from.

                It’s different—so different—from what Hyunseung has become accustomed to in the previous two months.

                It’s different, but he thinks that maybe he’ll come to like it anyway.

                He still keeps in contact with Jiyoung.

                He still keeps contact with all of them.

                He’s afraid that if he doesn’t, it will all dissipate---that it’ll poof away like a good dream, like the best dream he’s had, that he’ll ever have.

                Kikwang comes to visit him sometimes at his house.

                They’ll play soccer and they’ll laugh and everything will be simple and easy because that’s how it’s always been with Kikwang. Kikwang makes things happy and bright and never complicated and Hyunseung doesn’t know if there’s any way to thank the younger boy for being able to do that by just existing.

                Hyunseung thinks that maybe he was so caught up in his dream school, he’s lost touch of the wonderful things back down in reality.

                This high school has a beautiful soccer field.

                Hyunseung’s dream school was rich and swanky too, but this school’s soccer field is just beautiful. Both fields are beautiful to Hyunseung, but he has a particular liking to this one for some reason. Maybe it’s because there are brick borders on one side where laughter and voices from the school’s courtyard drift up so Hyunseung can still remember where he is. At his dream school, all of the sports fields were isolated—they were isolated so that everyone could concentrate, could immerse his or herself in the art and dream.

                He’s careful to only play when no one else is on. Sometimes he watches just to get used to the flow of people—he knows definitely when the school’s team practices, but there are often boys who play during lunch time or in the mornings and Doojoon and Yoseob are usually always there after school.

                Hyunseung only uses the school’s field when no one else is around, when no one else is playing. He doesn’t want anyone to play with. He just doesn’t want to forget the feeling of cleats on his feet—the feeling of the ball rolling in front of him, the sound that the ball makes when it hits the net, the feeling of the sun beating down on him and the air whizzing past his ears. He doesn’t get to use the field as often as he wants to even though he loves it with all his heart—more than he thought he would ever be able to love anything after his dream school—because someone is usually always there.

                It’s a rare treat for him to not have to sneak to Kikwang’s house and use the soccer field there, even though seeing Kikwang always brings a smile to his face.

                Hyunseung supposes he should have figured that his good luck streak wouldn’t last forever.

                He’s supposes he should just be thankful that it’s Junhyung—the quietest of the four—who decides to happen across the soccer field at the same time that Hyunseung twirls a three-sixty kick and sends the ball flying into the net. He doesn’t want to imagine what would happen if it were Yoseob or Doojoon or Yonghwa or worst of all, Joon, who finds him like this. Especially when there is evidence all around that Hyunseung has been here for hours, panting and sweating with his shirt soaked against his skin.

                Junhyung looks amused as he covers the last of the steps that lead down into the field, hands in his pockets. “I thought you said you lost it.”

                Hyunseung’s mouth opens, as his brain whirls to try and formulate an excuse because he really doesn’t want to get into this. “Um—I did.”

                The other boy raises an eyebrow and grins, reaching Hyunseung and bending down to take the ball into his hands. “Really?”

                “Yeah—it just—um—came back to me a few days ago,” Hyunseung says lamely. “But it’s probably a temporary thing. I’ll lose it again—don’t worry, and—um—don’t tell Doojoon and Yoseob?”

                Junhyung pretends to think and from the way he’s starting to walk circles around him, Hyunseung knows that by tomorrow, he’s probably going to get attacked and dragged into soccer tryouts when the time comes. Hyunseung is just about to ask Junhyung if maybe bribery is an option when the soccer ball comes flying towards him—he didn’t even see Junhyung kick or throw it—and through pure reflex, his foot comes up into the air and the ball is aimed at the nearest net.

                As it bounces off the net and rolls back towards them, Junhyung claps and that half-grin that tugs on one side of his mouth appears on his face. “Yeah,” he says, smile so big that Hyunseung wonders if his face hurts. “You definitely lost it.”

                Hyunseung stares.

                Then—

                “Shut up,” he laughs and throws the ball at Junhyung who head butts it right back and then they are off.

                They lose track of time playing one on one until the janitor comes out and tells them that he has to lock off the gates soon.

                “Do you still play?” Jiyoung asks one day over the phone. “You know, now and again?”

                “I tried out for the team here,” Hyunseung says. “I made it.”

                He can hear the smile, that familiar sheepish grin of white teeth and vanishing eyes. “Of course you did—you didn’t have to tell me that part, Hyunseung-ah.”

                Hyunseung smiles. “How’s Seunghyunnie?”

                “Pain in the ,” Jiyoung replies immediately, coolly, even though Hyunseung doesn’t believe in the nonchalance one bit. “Don’t worry about him.”

                Hyunseung grins and bites his lip, leaning back against the pillows of his bed and stares at the ceiling. “Trust me—I’m not worried about him. The last time I talked to him, he said he wants his nickname on the field to be Seungri. Is that true?”

                “God, don’t talk to me about that,” Jiyoung says and Hyunseung can see the older boy rubbing his face and laughing. “It takes me three bottles of migraine medicine just to get through one practice with him. Did you know Seunghyun-hyung almost actually killed him two days ago?”

                “Not surprised,” Hyunseung grins.

                “True,” Jiyoung says considerably. “So, how’re things?”

                “All right.” Hyunseung stretches languidly and breathes. “Things are all right—school’s pretty good and first quarter ends next week. I think my report card’s not going to be that hideous.”

                Jiyoung’s voice is almost gentle, but still playful—drastically different from the coldness, the anger, the sharpness that Hyunseung had to hear it speak with during that summer and those two short-lived months. He wonders if maybe things would have been different if their relationship had been during a time when Jiyoung didn’t have to deal with his own stress along with getting Hyunseung and the others through. “Good. I’m glad things are all right.”

                “You think I’m failing, don’t you?” Hyunseung says to bring the atmosphere back to teasing and joking. “I got a ninety-seven on my last biology test, just so you know.”

                Jiyoung laughs. “Did you miss the last three points because you thought photosynthesis was putting two or more photographs together?”

                “ you, hyung—that was one time,” Hyunseung says and can’t stop smiling.

                Hyunseung still hasn’t told anyone about his old school, about Jiyoung and the others. He knows that they all want to know—they talk about their elementary schools and middle schools often and all the gazes will fall to him and look away just as quickly because they care about him and they don’t want him to feel obligated, don’t want to pry and poke even though they all want to know.

                But none of them are brave enough ask about it, because Hyunseung knows that they all feel that Hyunseung is like a trapped animal—if they get to close to him, he knows that they think he will flee and never return. They don’t want that to happen, so they never ask him.

                Hyunseung himself isn’t sure if he wants them to ask him or not. He doesn’t want to bring it up himself, but he doesn’t know if he wants to keep it a secret forever. He likes these boys, but he doesn’t know how to tell them—he doesn’t know how they’ll react when and if he does.

                But there’s no way of finding out until someone asks him.

                Junhyung is the one to ask him.

                Hyunseung is thankful, just like before, that it’s Junhyung who asks him.

                There’s this thing called tact that Hyunseung knows none of the other boys have—even sensible-seeming Yonghwa has none of it what with his ahjumma mouth. Even Hyunseung himself doesn’t have much of it. But Junhyung does, and this tact is probably what made Junhyung decide to ask Hyunseung about it when they are the only ones left in the locker rooms after practice one day.

                “We have a day off tomorrow,” Junhyung comments as Hyunseung dries his hair.

                Hyunseung shakes out the wet strands so they don’t fall into his eyes and thinks about getting a haircut. “It’s a teacher’s workday, right?”

                “Yeah.” Junhyung pulls on his shirt and looks up at the other boy. “Me and Doojoon were going to head back and visit our old teachers—see how the school’s doing, meet some of the kids.”

                Hyunseung rakes his fingers through his wet hair absently, looking in the mirror and moving stands here and there into their places. “Oh—that’s nice.”

                “Yeah,” Junhyung rummages through his sports bag and pulls out a pair of jeans. “You ever go back to your old school?”

                Ah.

                Hyunseung gets it right then. He gets it, and like he’s said before, Hyunseung doesn’t have any tact. He doesn’t have any tact so instead of letting Junhyung continue to lead the conversation where it’s supposed to go, Hyunseung simply spins around and stares at the other boy. “Are you asking about where I went before I came here?” he says bluntly.

                Junhyung blinks and looks surprised. Then he looks away. “Kind of,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean—if you don’t—just—that’s okay. I don’t—I don’t want—I mean—“

                Hyunseung laughs. “Are you hanging around Joon too much?” he asks and Junhyung’s eyes widen and his mouth opens.

                “Yah,” the other boy says and pushes Hyunseung into the lockers. He takes a towel and throws it at Hyunseung who catches it, still laughing. Junhyung smiles back as Hyunseung straightens and throws the towel onto the sink.

                They continue to dress wordlessly for a few more minutes, the silence comfortable and calming. “I’m okay now, you know,” Hyunseung says after a while, when they are pulling their socks and shoes on. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

                Junhyung sits close to him on the bench—their backs touch and although he can’t see the other boy’s expression, he can hear the curiosity in his voice. “Did it hurt before?”

                “A lot,” Hyunseung says quietly.

                A beat.

                “Can I know?” Junhyung asks, matching Hyunseung’s quiet tone. “What happened?”

                Hyunseung turns to face the other boy—takes in the eyes cupped in shadows, the full lips, the intent expression, the hair sweeping just above his eyebrows. If it wasn’t for Junhyung finding out, pushing and pushing Hyunseung to try out, convincing him that he would like it—that it would be a waste if he didn’t—then Hyunseung still might have been in the shell he was determined to lock himself in. He didn’t come here to make friends and have fun, after all. He came here because the place he wanted to be didn’t want him.

                “It’s kind of a long story,” Hyunseung says.

                “Good to know,” Junhyung says back with that half-grin that gets more and more familiar as the days pass. “I don’t have to be home for another two hours.”

                Hyunseung tells him everything.

                He tells Junhyung about the dream school—about how he’s wanted to go to this school for as long as he can remember. When studies began to matter to kids, perhaps around fifth or sixth grade, Hyunseung had already thrown himself into working. The dream school only accepted the highest grades as just a prerequisite. After the top grades, you had to excel in an extracurricular whether it was an art of a sport.

                Hyunseung loves soccer.

                He loves soccer so the only way for him to be able to attend his dream school was if he made the soccer team there. And in a sense, he did make it. He made it, but there were always complications. Hyunseung lacked stamina sometimes, his performance was inconsistent, he had impressive acrobatics—impressive flexibility—but there was always something lacking. He didn’t have a certain aura, a certain force—his speed would fall short, his aiming was off.

                There were always complications but Hyunseung always managed to get through even if just barely.

                But his dream school didn’t just want students who excelled in the extracurricular they chose—the grades needed to be kept up too and that was too much for Hyunseung.

                Plus, Hyunseung fell in love.

                The dream school had a treasure that came in the same year Hyunseung did—and into the same sport, the same field of expertise.

                It was Kwon Jiyoung and Hyunseung loved him.

                Entering the dream school starts in the summer—a few months from when the actual school year starts. Hyunseung met Kwon Jiyoung at the end of June when they began their training. He met others too—Seunghyun-hyung, little Seunghyun, Daesung, Youngbae—and he loved them as well. He loved them as well, but he was in love with Jiyoung. He was in love and Jiyoung loved him back.

                But loving in the midst of this dream school’s training was like loving in the military—it was possible, but it was brutal and tainted with stress, tainted with pent-up frustrations and emotions because they were all, in essence, competing with each other. They didn’t know how many would be kept in and how many would be kicked out. They didn’t know when and who and why. All they knew was they had to constantly continue to kick and scream and fight to keep their place because this school was a dream for all of them—it was a dream that none of them wanted to end.

                Jiyoung has always been a leader.

                It’s his responsibility to keep them tense and agitated—to never let their guard down. It’s his responsibility to keep them running in the middle of the night to improve on their stamina for the next day’s drills. It’s his responsibility before his responsibility to Hyunseung to treat none of them differently. Jiyoung has to scold Hyunseung—has to criticize him and construct him just like he must with the others. And when you’re young, when you’re young and in love, it’s difficult to tell the line between work and love. When you’re young, everything molds into one until there is no line at all.

                Hyunseung thinks now that maybe that was the fault in it.

                Because of what was going on around them—they loved too hard, they fought too much, their dreams were too big.

                Jiyoung is fleeting and beautiful and has wings that will take him everywhere and Hyunseung isn’t the kind of person to be able to hold him down—Jiyoung isn’t supposed to be with someone who can hold him down. Jiyoung is supposed to be with someone who will fly with him, and that’s not Hyunseung.

                That’s Seunghyun.

                “You work so hard, Hyunseung-ah,” Yang-seonsangnim says. “You work so hard, and you’re not getting what you deserve here. You need something different.”

                “I’m sorry,” Jiyoung says because they are both panting and neither of them can tell if the saltwater pouring down their faces is perspiration or tears. “I’m sorry, Hyunseung-ah. He’s not better than you—it’s not—it’s just different.”

                Hyunseung knows he’s never been good enough.

                But coming to this school, he thinks that even though he’s still not good enough, there’s a place where he’ll belong anyway.

                Hyunseung lets Junhyung tells the others because just telling the story once is exhausting enough—he doesn’t think it’s possible for him to do it three more times. He’s thankful that none of them try to comfort him and tell him that his dream school should have kept him. He’s thankful that they don’t make a big deal out of it and spin comforting lies. He’s thankful that they don’t really act any different—that they just show him with their actions that they’re glad he’s here with them now.

                Hyunseung has learned a lot of things from coming into high school already knowing what it’s like to have a real relationship—as real as anything in high school can ever be. And one thing he’s learned from being with Jiyoung is how to tell if someone is interested in him. It has a lot to do with self-confidence, a bit to do with self-arrogance, and a lot to do with knowing how attractive you are.

                Hyunseung never thinks he’s good enough, but how attractive you are really has no relevance to that. If you think it does, then you’re probably a shallow .

                Or so goes Jang Hyunseung’s opinion.

                But the point of the matter is that Hyunseung knows how to read signals whether the person sending him these signals is doing it by intention or by inexperienced accident. He knows how to read them and ever since Hyunseung told his story in the locker rooms, Yong Junhyung has been hauling a big, flashing neon sign around his neck that is so bright it hurts Hyunseung’s eyes to look at it sometimes.

                It’s so bright that it apparently hurts Doojoon’s eyes sometimes too because after school on a day when they don’t have practice and Doojoon and Hyunseung are walking to a vending machine, Doojoon pulls Hyunseung aside and looks at him with a mixture of pain and pleading.

                Hyunseung thinks that Doojoon’s eyebrows do funny things in times of desperation.

                “Would it kill you,” Doojoon asks nervously, “to go out with Junhyung?”

                Hyunseung blinks. “What?”

                “He’s not ugly, right? He’s not hideous.”

                “What?”

                “And he nags a lot, but you really shouldn’t leave your underwear hanging on the sink faucets.”

                “I—what?” Hyunseung isn’t really getting any of this but he supposes the gist of Doojoon’s uncoordinated conversation is that Doojoon is probably tired of looking at the neon flashing sign around Junhyung’s neck and wants Hyunseung to end the misery because Hyunseung understands how miserable it can be to have to look at something so bright and obvious.

                Like the way Junhyung actually missed a completely stationary ball because he was staring at Hyunseung during practice yesterday.

                The later explanation Junhyung offered while not looking at Hyunseung’s face was that Hyunseung had a bug in his hair, except Hyunseung isn’t four-years-old and knows that Junhyung was probably staring because Hyunseung had followed Jaebum and Taecyeon in taking off their shirts due to the end-of-summer heat.

                Again—reading signals is an art that one can only master with self-confidence, some self-arrogance, and just plain knowing how attractive you are.

                “Why does he even like me?” Hyunseung asks as Doojoon bends down to retrieve the bag of chips that Yoseob had sent him to get from the vending machine even though Yang Yoseob has two perfectly functioning legs to get the chips himself.

                Doojoon opens the bag of chips and takes a handful, his face thoughtful. “Maybe he thinks you’re hot?” he shrugs. “I mean,” he sounds around a mouthful of shrimp-flavored crackers, “there’s no other reason.”

                Hyunseung shoves him into the vending machine, grabs the bag of chips, and heads back to the courtyard without turning back—even at the sound of Doojoon’s laughter.

                If someone asks Hyunseung at this point of his first year, who amongst his closest friends at school he would date, Hyunseung probably would answer anyone except for Yong Junhyung. That would be his answer and it would be one of the most honest answers he’s ever given to any question.

                His first choice would probably be Joon, despite the stupidity. Joon is entertaining and attractive to a ridiculous level and good at track and smart despite the stupidity and kind in an odd way and again, attractive to a ridiculous level. Hyunseung’s second choice would probably be Doojoon. Doojoon isn’t as entertaining as Joon, but he’s attractive in a unique way, passionate about soccer, good at soccer, smart, kind, and probably every girl’s ideal-without-being-clichéd boyfriend.

                From there the order would go Yonghwa and then Yoseob, but Hyunseung doesn’t really think much of those two because he can’t imagine himself dating them at all. He can’t imagine himself dating them, but he can more easily imagine himself dating either of those two than Yong Junhyung.

                Hyunseung isn’t trying to suggest that Junhyung is boring or unattractive. While Junhyung is nowhere as attractive as himself, Joon, or Doojoon, Junhyung still gets his fair share of female admirers and that has to say something at the very least. And Junhyung isn’t boring, but he’s usually not the one to start the topics that result in all of them collapsed on the floor in laughter. He adds to it, but he’s not the instigator. Junhyung is very much the epitome of middle ground—he’s neither this nor that.

                And yet, putting all this aside, Hyunseung finds himself at the mall with Yong Junhyung and no one else.

                On a date.

                Supposedly.

                It’s been about two hours and nothing noteworthy has happened—they ate, they shopped, they walked, they talked, but it’s the same as if Hyunseung went on a trip with any random classmate he picked with his eyes closed from a hat.

                Nothing noteworthy continues to happen until Hyunseung decides to put an end to this misery and says, “D’you want to come over?”

                Junhyung looks at him as they wait for the pedestrian light to come on. “What—to your house?”

                “No,” Hyunseung says. “To the circus I take part in sometimes when I don’t feel like doing my homework.”

                Their eyes meet and Junhyung rolls his eyes, laughing. “You’re so ing weird,” he says, as they cross the street. “Where’s your house?”

                “Close,” is all Hyunseung responds with.

                “Yeah—because that’s definitely a direction,” Junhyung says. “I’d kind of like to know where the hell I’m going.”

                Hyunseung grins. “You don’t trust me?”

                Junhyung raises an eyebrow. “I almost died,” he says.

                “You did not,” snorts Hyunseung.

                “You led us to the edge of a ravine,” Junhyung says with narrowed eyes. “And then you started dancing to cheer us up and almost pushed me off.”

                Hyunseung puts his fingers in his ears. “You nag too much—has anyone ever told you that?”

                Junhyung makes spluttering noises, eyes wide with indignation, and two ahjusshi behind them make irritated coughing noises about today’s youth. “I—I—it’s not nagging when you almost kill someone.”

                “Well, you’re still here and breathing, so I don’t see the problem,” Hyunseung shrugs and wonders if Junhyung will turn purple if the spluttering continues. “Look—come on—my house is just around here.” He puts his hands on Junhyung’s shoulders and guides him patronizingly the rest of the way down the street. “I’ll feed you tons of food and make up for the near-death experience I put you through, you pansy.”

                Junhyung laughs. “I hate so much,” he grins and swats Hyunseung’s hands away—he swats them away, but catches one of the other boy’s hands in his and holds it firmly.

                This isn’t supposed to be a real date—Hyunseung is supposed to date anyone and everyone except for Yong Junhyung because Hyunseung likes extremes and Yong Junhyung is the middle gray. Junhyung is the middle gray, so Hyunseung thinks it’s just a little weird when Junhyung takes his hand and he doesn’t want to pull away.

                They kiss two dates later.

Hyunseung still doesn’t really get why he’s with Junhyung. It’s the beginning of second semester, and Hyunseung has become more attached to this school—to the other boys—than he will ever want to admit. He understands all of that, but he still doesn’t understand why he’s with Junhyung even though he likes being with him. He likes it, but he doesn’t get why.

                When he was with Jiyoung, he knew exactly why. Jiyoung was a lot of what Hyunseung wanted to be—Jiyoung was ridiculously talented, and even though Hyunseung knew he was afraid, the older boy never showed it, never let any hint of instability leak out. Jiyoung was charismatic, he was a leader, he was confident, he was never arrogant, he never flaunted his ridiculous talent, he never looked down on Hyunseung—never looked down on anyone.

                And it would make a lot of sense if Hyunseung liked Junhyung for similar reasons—and even if not similar, then similar in depth and meaning. But that’s just not how it is with Yong Junhyung, which is what makes it so weird—what makes Hyunseung have absolutely no clue why he’s with Junhyung.

                Junhyung nags. He will nag at Yoseob for eating too many sweets and not being at the weight room enough while they are off the field. He will nag at Doojoon for indulging Yoseob and giving Yoseob the abundance of sweets. He will nag at Yonghwa to keep his guitar off of the table during lunch because it takes up too much space. He will nag at Joon for existing. He will nag at Hyunseung for doodling all over the margins instead of actually taking notes in the one class they have together.

                Hyunseung knows that everyone else thinks it’s annoying to the point of needs-to-have-a-sock-thrown-at-him, but Junhyung nagging makes Hyunseung smile and he thinks that maybe this is the first sign on the road to insanity.

                Junhyung bumbles. Junhyung, while charismatic and intimidating on the field, is not really that great in real life. His face could probably make babies cry and from the stories Hyunseung hears Doojoon almost die laughing over, Junhyung’s face has made babies cry, but Junhyung in all truthfulness is probably as harmful as a fly excluding the ones that carry disease after landing on decaying road kill. He laughs like the rest of them do when Joon stutters, but Junhyung is such an expert in that field that if there was an Olympics for that sort of thing, those two would be competing head to head.

                Hyunseung thought that the stuttering is only attractive on Joon because Joon is ridiculously attractive. But on Junhyung’s makes-babies-cry face, it’s nothing short of hilarious and mildly adorable because his face is just so scary but then he stutters and oh—Hyunseung could die happy, laughing suicides just thinking about it.

                He knows that he’s weird. He knows that everyone else thinks he’s weird, too—even Jiyoung thought he was weird. Kikwang thinks he’s weird, too. And while everyone else aren’t the most normal of people either, they all draw their own separate lines at what point they continue to act weird with Hyunseung and what point it’s just too weird for them, meaning it’s time for them to simply stand back and make odd, lost faces at whatever Jang Hyunseung is trying to do now.

                But that line doesn’t seem to exist for Junhyung. Junhyung doesn’t care how in-depth a conversation about naming the holes in Hyunseung’s socks is—he’ll continue to participate as if it’s simply a chat about last night’s homework. Hyunseung wants to be impressed—wants to be grateful even—but all he ends up thinking is how lovely it is that finally someone, that Junhyung, understands the reasons why Hyunseung likes to name the holes in his socks.

                When Hyunseung told Junhyung everything that one time in the locker room, he didn’t tell Junhyung everything. He didn’t want to tell Junhyung everything because he doesn’t want the others to know everything. The everything that he told Junhyung is everything about Hyunseung’s dream and how he wasn’t good enough to stay in his dream school. He said nothing about Jiyoung and the competition within a competition that Hyunseung put himself through.

                The competition for Kwon Jiyoung’s heart.

                And how Hyunseung lost because that’s all that can happen when one competes with Victory. 

                It comes up one night when Junhyung is sleeping over at Hyunseung’s house. Their first year is ending and finals were just finished the day before. All they have to look forward to now is the little housekeeping details—cleaning lockers, bringing books home—and then summer vacation is theirs to have.

                Hyunseung is sitting Indian-style on his bed and Junhyung is lying spread-eagle in front of him, feet dangling over the edge of the bed. It’s not the first time that Junhyung has come over, but maybe it’s the first time Junhyung is really paying attention to what decorates Hyunseung’s room. Maybe it’s the first time Junhyung has really looked at the photograph mobile hanging over Hyunseung’s bed.

                Hyunseung hates homework, but tonight is one of those nights where he wishes he had something to occupy his hands and his eyes so he could at least pretend to be doing something instead of blatantly watching Junhyung stare at the photos hanging from his ceiling. He balances his phone in his hands, wondering if Kikwang has gone out somewhere or if the younger boy will text him back.

                “Is that him?” Junhyung says abruptly, his voice quiet. He points up at one of the photos, catching it gently in his hand.

                Hyunseung places his phone on the nightstand and slides down to lie beside Junhyung across the bed. He places his hand around Junhyung’s wrist, sliding up to the other boy’s fingers and taking the photograph into his own hand. He turns it around, looking at both sides—he remembers this one. On one side is a picture of him and Jiyoung after one of the better days of training—they are both sweating and they look terrible, their hair matted to their foreheads, but they are smiling.

                On the other side is a picture at the same time, but probably a different take. They took photos of each other regularly—out of boredom, out of wanting proof to take home in case things ended badly and they wanted some sort of solid, tangible something to assure them that it wasn’t just all a wonderful dream. Jiyoung’s bony arm is around Hyunseung and Hyunseung is sticking his tongue out at the camera.

                “Yeah,” Hyunseung replies after a moment. He lets go of the photograph and it dangles, swinging back and forth above their faces.

                From Junhyung’s profile, Hyunseung would guess that the other boy is frowning, thinking deeply. “You never told me why you two broke up. Was it really just because you couldn’t make it?”

                Hyunseung is silent for a moment, stringing the words together in his head before he says them—stringing the stories, the memories together. He smiles. “Remember how I said I wasn’t good enough?”

                “Mm,” Junhyung says.

                “I wasn’t good enough with keeping up my grades and soccer,” Hyunseung says slowly, “but I wasn’t good enough for Jiyoung-hyung either. I mean, maybe if it was just me, it’d be good enough—but there’s always competition. There’s always going to be someone better than you so you should never relax—never put your guard down. They always said that to us at the school.”

                “There was someone else Jiyoung liked?” Junhyung asks quietly.

                “Seunghyunnie,” Hyunseung says, still with that same odd smile. “We used to make fun of him because he was so little at the time, and he always wanted to win whenever we just did practice games. We called him Seungri because he loved winning so much—even the teachers called him that after a while.”

                Junhyung sits up suddenly, folding his legs like Hyunseung had before and stares down at the other boy. Hyunseung takes his eyes to the photograph mobile and watches his memories hang above him. “I wasn’t really dating Jiyoung-hyung,” Hyunseung continues. “It was just something that kind of happened. And it happened with Seunghyunnie too. It was never just me and Jiyoung-hyung. Some days he would be with me and some days he would be with Seunghyunnie.” He grins up at Junhyung humorlessly. “Like a competition.”

                This entire time, Junhyung’s face remained relatively expressionless—only a few base emotions present. The other boy looks devastatingly solemn. “Was he that worth it?” Junhyung finally asks, watching Hyunseung intently.

                Hyunseung only has eyes for the photo mobile. “He was—is.”

                When Hyunseung and Jiyoung had , they were both s and it was in the heat of the moment. They were frustrated, they were angry, they were tired, and they just wanted to do something that wasn’t training—wasn’t monotonous practice, something that would stop them from going mad with the feeling of being imprisoned and yet wanting nothing more than to stay in this prison forever because this was their dream.

                It was messy and sloppy and done only to achieve release and nothing more. It wasn’t meaningless, but it wasn’t meant to be meaningful either.

                He has with Junhyung the night after the last day of school.

                It’s Junhyung’s first time so even though Hyunseung lets him top, he has to guide the other boy through it, and it’s vastly different from the rapid fire he had with Jiyoung. with Junhyung is sweeter—it’s not Hyunseung’s first time, but it feels like it. with Junhyung is sweet and slow and the memory burns itself heatedly into Hyunseung’s mind.

Hyunseung realizes that maybe he loves Junhyung.

                His family brings him away on vacation, so he doesn’t see the other boy for the entire summer. His parents are still worried about him—they want him to have fun, to be happy during the summer and so they take him to all sorts of places, dragging him here and there until he is absolutely exhausted because usually a family vacation would simply entail his parents knocking off six hours at the spa and leaving Hyunseung to entertain himself for the day.

                He’s glad that his parents are giving him space and time, even though he wants to tell them that he’s mostly better. He likes his new school and he’s thankful that they let him go back into a familiar area rather than a completely new school where he knows nobody.

                He’s thankful that they led him to Junhyung.

                Summer ends, and then their second year begins.

                Hyunseung is at Kikwang’s house the evening before the first day of school. It’ll be Kikwang’s first day of high school, and they lie together at Kikwang’s poolside, the sky still bright because it is only the beginning of the end of summer and the days are still long.

                “How’s Junhyung-shii?” Kikwang asks.

                Hyunseung smiles, “I don’t know. Haven’t seen him all summer.”

                “Miss him?”

                “Yeah.”

                Kikwang nods and smiles back—his smile is slightly wistful for some reason. Hyunseung sits up, and swings his legs over the pool chair so he faces the younger boy. “Nervous?”

                “What?” And then Kikwang laughs. “A little—but not really. I’m gonna have the biggest hyungs in school to look after me.”

                “Yah,” Hyunseung says, widening his eyes and pushing Kikwang off of his chair. The younger boy laughs even harder. “No one said that my friends are gonna like you. Maybe they’ll be the ones bullying you.”

                Kikwang looks amused as he gets back onto his chair. “Aw, hyung,” he grins, “I’m too pretty to bully.”

                Hyunseung stares and then he snorts. “I’m not going to help you if you get hit on the first day of school, Kikwang-ah,” he says.

                The younger boy laughs. “Ah, hyung,” he draws out the honorific, sticking out his tongue, smiling brightly. Hyunseung reaches out and their hands clasp, swinging over the space between their chairs. “Junhyung-shii is lucky to have you,” Kikwang says after a pause. He smiles again. “You seem a lot happier with him.”

                Hyunseung knows the unspoken ending to that sentence.

                Than when you were with Jiyoung

                He wonders if that’s true—wonders if he really is happier with Junhyung than he was with Jiyoung. He wonders if he’s only happier because the situation with Jiyoung was so different—was in an atmosphere, in a time and place, where there was almost no chance of them being able to maintain a relationship. He wonders if maybe, had he the chance, Jiyoung would make him just as happy—if Jiyoung would make him happier than Junhyung.

                But he shakes that thought out of his head as Kikwang’s mother calls from the house to tell the younger boy that Dongwoon is on the phone. Kikwang yells back and tells her to tell Dongwoon that he’s with Hyunseung right now. “Are you sure you don’t want to take that?” he asks the younger boy. “I should probably go now anyway.”

                Kikwang looks disappointed. “Hyung,” he whines, “Stay longer.”

                A small smile creeps on Hyunseung’s face. He shoves playfully at Kikwang’s shoulder. “Fine,” he says with that smile. “I’ll stay.”

                When he sees him again on their first day back, Hyunseung wonders when Junhyung became beautiful.

                He never thought that Junhyung was unattractive—he’s said this before. But he never thought Junhyung could be beautiful. Hyunseung has never thought that the other boy could be beautiful so when they finally reach each other in the courtyard, Hyunseung doesn’t know what to say.

                Junhyung is doing that half-grin that he always does, and Hyunseung thinks that maybe it’s not just the fact that the other boy has dyed and cut his hair differently. He thinks maybe it’s not just that Junhyung grew a little bit, that his shoulders broadened slightly, that his face got a little slimmer. He thinks that it’s the way Junhyung is holding himself up. When they first met, Junhyung was always overshadowed by Joon and Doojoon and Yoseob and Yonghwa and even Hyunseung himself.

                But now, Yong Junhyung is standing in front of him, feet apart, half-grin tugging at his mouth like a smirk, and looking more than happy to see Hyunseung after three months of separation. “You look good,” he says simply, and taking a deep breath in and out, squaring his shoulders.

                Hyunseung wants to say that Junhyung does, too, but then he thinks of how inaccurate, how much of an understatement that will be because Junhyung doesn’t just look good. Hyunseung looks good. But Junhyung looks phenomenal—out of this world—indescribable—amazing—beautiful.

                He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. He slips his hands into Junhyung’s, leans forward, and kisses the other boy. He kisses the other boy, but it can’t be deep and long and slow like he wants it to be because they are in the courtyard with teachers and other students passing. So pulls away and just offers a matching smile.

                Junhyung’s half-grin turns into a full one. “Wow,” he says with raised eyebrows. “You must have missed me like hell.”

                Hyunseung laughs and pushes him away.

                Hyunseung never thinks he’s good enough—he knows he’s never good enough. He knows he’s never good enough, which is why he thought that maybe Junhyung is a good match for him. Junhyung tells him that he doesn’t think he’s good enough either and that everyone feels that way sometimes so Hyunseung believes him. Hyunseung believes him and even feels—in moments of terrible, terrible selfishness—that maybe Junhyung is one person he can be a little bit better than. He’s tired of always having someone better than him—someone too amazing like Jiyoung—so his selfishness gets the better of him and in moments of just plain cruel, he thinks like that.

                Or rather—he thought like that.

                Because now Yong Junhyung is confident—Yong Junhyung might as well be Lee Joon nowadays because there’s no lack of assurance any more. He’s beautiful because he knows he is, knows that he’s talented, knows that he’s intelligent. There’s a different way in how he interacts with the rest of the team now, an almost imperceptible difference in how he interacts with Hyunseung, but Hyunseung can still distinguish it.

                Which means that now Hyunseung is back to not being good enough. Junhyung is better than him and Hyunseung thinks that maybe that’s just how it will always be. Even if someone is not as good as Hyunseung in the beginning, they’ll always bloom—always grow and flower to be better than Hyunseung, because Jang Hyunseung is probably the most basic standards of what someone has to pass before they can succeed in life.

                Hyunseung is used to not being good enough. It’s never really bothered him before—not even when he lost his dream school, lost to Seunghyun, lost Jiyoung. He’s used to it and it doesn’t bother him.

                But for some reason, the thought of not being good enough to stay by Yong Junhyung’s side does.

                Hyunseung wonders at what point he fell this badly in love with Junhyung.

                Maybe it’s second semester when thing’s start going wrong.

                Junhyung has always been popular.

                Hyunseung has never been the only one to fall in love with how easy it is to be around the other boy—to tell him how bad or how good your day was, to freak out over a boatload of homework, to ask for help on an assignment. He’s never been the only one to know that it’s too easy to be friends with Junhyung, and once you’re in, you never want to get out.

                Junhyung is friends with Yoseob—has become best friends with Yoseob. Hyunseung knows they saw each other multiple times over the summer because Yoseob’s parents moved into this area in order to be business partners with the Yong family. Their families are close friends, and summering together is the most classic way to seal the deal. Having your children be best friends is also probably the next level of the deal.

                They are second years now, meaning that they are no longer the maknaes of the school. There is a first year that Yonghwa introduces them to one day—the child of his own family’s friends, and the boy’s name is Lee Hongki. He’s with Yonghwa in the music department, singing and a little guitar. Junhyung takes to Hongki and Hongki takes to Junhyung and they are off even though Hongki is usually seen far more often with another second year in the music department, Choi Jonghun.

                Junhyung is popular just like Jiyoung was.

                And while Hyunseung is not the type to be provoked much with jealousy, he’s the type to be rooted to reality, and the reality is that all of Junhyung’s many dongsaengs and hyungs are all better than Hyunseung. Yoseob, and Hongki are both good enough for Junhyung. Yoseob is adorable and bright and cheerful and energetic and smart and Hongki is witty and sarcastic and talented and exciting. They are so much more than Hyunseung will ever hope to be. They are what Junhyung deserves because Junhyung has grown beautiful—has grown out of Hyunseung.

It’s the nearly the end of second semester when it finally breaks.

                It starts off during practice when the play they are trying out involves Junhyung passing to Hyunseung, but he signals at Yoseob instead so the younger boy can come away from the goal and catch the ball from Junhyung’s kick. Hyunseung stops running—right there and then. Junho calls time and the rest of the team stops where they stand, all turning to look at Hyunseung staring at Junhyung, only a meter between them.

                “You were supposed to pass it to me,” Hyunseung says because Junhyung is waiting blankly for an explanation. “Why would you give it to Yoseob? You think he’s going to be able to throw the ball to the other end of the field right after he recovered?”

                “Yoseobie just got back on the field,” Junhyung says, one hand gesturing out to where Yoseob is holding the ball in his goalie gloves. “He hasn’t had the ball all day.”

                Hyunseung’s mouth opens a little bit in disbelief. His patience has been running short all day today with Junhyung—has been running short for the last two weeks because he’s barely seen Junhyung at all due to the fact that Junhyung insisted on staying with Yoseob every waking moment of the day after the incident at the mini-tournament. And because Hyunseung isn’t that terrible, he refrained from trying to explain to Junhyung that Yoseob got beaten up not diagnosed with a terminal illness.

                “Are you—are you three?” Hyunseung says, not really quite believing that he heard Junhyung say what Junhyung just said. “We’re practicing for a match, not playing kindergarten catch. The play says you give the ball to me.”

                Junhyung looks surprised. “Okay—sorry,” he says, “Sorry—I was just playing around.” He turns to Yoseob to throw him back the ball so they can start over and Hyunseung catches the two boys meeting smiles.

                He feels a black vortex trying to swallow him from the inside out when Doojoon taps him lightly on the stomach with the back of his hand and says, “Calm down—breathe.”

                Hyunseung throws his head back and brushes the sweat out of his eyes, staring at the sky, hands on his hips. He walks in a circle a few times with Doojoon giving him steady, meaningless words about breathing in and out. He sees Junho giving him a concerned look from across the field but ignores it and when Junho calls for it to start again, Hyunseung does everything written in the play all without looking at Junhyung once.

                After practice, Yoseob is being carted away in a headlock by Doojoon with Junsu yelling after him because Yoseob just recovered so how dare he do that to his dongsaeng. Kikwang is being squished by Wooyoung in a hug as they try to walk up to the locker rooms that way, and Junho is trying to tell Chansung how to do a formula on a test they have tomorrow in math.

                Hyunseung walks at the end of the group, purposely dragging his steps because if he goes further, they’ll all try to and make him smile and he doesn’t feel like having to deal with that right now. Junhyung has fallen back out of the group and is walking beside Hyunseung. “Yah,” he says, “Hyunseung-ah—I said I was sorry. Junho-hyung wasn’t even pissed and he’s the captain.”

                “I’m not mad,” Hyunseung says and keeps walking, refusing to look at the other boy.

                “Hyunseung-ah,” Junhyung tries again, drawing out the last syllable. “Hyunseungie,” he slips his hand into Hyunseung who pulls away immediately. “I said I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were having a bad day or else I wouldn’t—“

                “Right,” Hyunseung says, stopping abruptly. Junhyung stops too. “Right, you wouldn’t know if I was having a bad day or not because every day for the past two weeks, you ditched me so you could take care of Yoseob.”

                Junhyung frowns slightly. “Well—he was injured. I wanted to make sure he was okay and got all his homework and stuff.”

                Hyunseung raises his eyebrows. “Oh—really? Because that’s what Doojoon is for. That’s what Doojoon and everyone else who’s actually in Yoseob’s classes is for. You don’t even have a period with him, let alone the same teachers. And he was hurt, but it’s not like he had cancer, Junhyung-ah. Everyone was worried about him, but you were with him all the time. Even when there were five other people offering to carry his books, you were still there.”

                “He’s my friend,” Junhyung offers as an explanation.

                “Yeah,” Hyunseung says, “because Yang Yoseob and I are sworn enemies.” He makes a noise at the back of his throat. “He’s my friend, too.” He pauses. “But he’s not my boyfriend.”

                Junhyung’s eyes widen suddenly. They widen, but as quickly as they widen, they narrow. “You’re being stupid,” he says and makes to walk away. “I’ll talk to you later.”

                “Yah,” Hyunseung says—he means to say it, but his nerves are getting tighter and tighter, stretched to the point of tearing, and he grabs Junhyung’s elbow and yanks the other boy back. “Yah—talk the to me now, Yong Junhyung.”

                Junhyung whirls around. “Why—why? Why should I? You’re being retarded right now because you’re jealous just because I was worried about my friend. What if I tell you that you can’t hang out any more with Kikwang?”

                “I didn’t say that you can’t hang out with Yoseob anymore,” Hyunseung feels his voice rising to match Junhyung’s tone. “I was just trying to say that there’s a difference between worrying and being around him to the point where it gets stupid because he’s not ing two-years-old.”

                “I’m not talking to you right now,” Junhyung yells because there’s no more point in pretending that they aren’t fighting. They’re yelling now and it echoes through the darkening soccer field. “You had a bad day and you’re not making any sense. Talk to me when you decide to make sense.”

                “But you want Yoseob to talk to you, right?” Hyunseung shouts and Junhyung is looking more and more frightening, angrier and angrier. “And Hongki and Doojoon and Jinki and everyone else except me, right?”

                Junhyung’s eyes are slits. “Why are you being so stupid?” he asks, furious, his slapping the back of his hand into his palm. “They’re my friends—can I not have friends anymore? How do you think it feels anyway to have to compare to Kwon ing Jiyoung, the greatest soccer prodigy who ever lived—or so the person who’s supposed to be your boyfriend always says?”

                Hyunseung shakes his head because now it’s Junhyung who doesn’t make sense. “What the are you even talking about? What the does Jiyoung-hyung have anything to do with this? I don’t hang out with him twenty-three point five hours of the day and save that last half an hour for you because that’s what you to do to—“

                “Don’t even say it,” Junhyung cuts in. “Don’t even—because that’s just so ing messed up. You know I don’t spend only half an hour with you a day. How long do you want to see me anyway? Am I supposed to be latched onto your side every second we’re not in class? Can’t you just stop focusing on whatever bad day you had and just think maybe I need something different? That I just have friends?”

                Junhyung needs something different?

                Junhyung needs something different.

                Yang Hyunsuk-seonsangnim needed something different.

                Jiyoung needed something different.

                “Oh,” Hyunseung says, his voice quiet. And he falls silent, all the anger, the heat, the fury draining out of his face in one go.

                Junhyung’s expression echoes the other boy abruptly, only instead of emptiness, it’s replaced with worry. “What—wait—Hyunseung-ah,” he says quickly, seeming to sense something off.

                Hyunseung nods and bites his lips. He smiles, and he thinks that losing his dream school and Jiyoung put together didn’t feel this awful. He never thought that losing Junhyung—like he inevitably would—would feel worse than his dream school and Jiyoung because those two things shaped his life. He thought that Junhyung is just Junhyung—just a boyfriend.

                But he doesn’t think that just a boyfriend is supposed to make you hurt this much when you figure out that it’s time to leave—again. Hyunseung is always leaving because he’s never good enough for long. Everything in his life is easy come and easy go and he supposes that it’s no different with Junhyung after all. Junhyung came in the easiest into Hyunseung’s life—bumbling and charismatic, nagging and kind, odd and normal, intelligent and idiotic, funny and serious—he came in the easiest, but from the way Hyunseung’s chest is starting to clench in on itself, he’s not leaving the easiest at all.

                “Oh,” Hyunseung repeats with that smile that makes him feel like his mouth is melting off. “Then you don’t need me anymore, huh?”

                Junhyung’s eyes are the sizes of dish plates and he instantly wraps his hands around Hyunseung’s wrists. Hyunseung doesn’t really feel his body anymore, but he thinks it’s silly of Junhyung to try and stop him from leaving—Hyunseung isn’t going anywhere. It’s Junhyung who’s leaving.

                “Hyunseung-ah,” he says, voice thick with panic. “Hyunseung-ah—I didn’t—“

                Hyunseung takes his wrists out of Junhyung’s grasp and walks away, up to the locker rooms. Junhyung doesn’t call after him, doesn’t even run after him, doesn’t follow him to the locker rooms. The other boy, when Hyunseung glances back, is just standing there under the darkening sky, gaze hidden by the evening lightlessness.

                It makes sense.

                It makes sense that Junhyung wouldn’t go after him.

                After all, for Junhyung Hyunseung was also easy come—

                And now he’s easy go.