Yang Yoseob is cute.

                Yang Yoseob is adorable.   

                Girls always love Yoseob—for as long as he can remember, girls always love him. They always love him, but they are never in love with him. They can never see him protecting them, can never see him as a boy. They just think he’s cute. They think he’s adorable.

                Boys love Yoseob, too. Boys love Yoseob because he’s pretty, he’s cute, he’s adorable. Being around Yoseob is like being with a girl, but not, because Yoseob isn’t a girl. There’s no pressure of being with a girl, but at the same time, they can still look at Yoseob and see the pretty, see the cute, see the adorable.

                If Yoseob is the darling of his middle school, then Hwang Dongsun is the prince of his middle school. Dongsun is the boy that all the girls always in love with, ever since kindergarten, even through the transition from elementary to middle, they are always in love with him. Dongsun is the boy that all the boys want to be friends with, that some boys hate because all the girls love him, that all the boys have been over to his house at least once because it’s hard not to like him even if they want to hate him.

                In seventh grade, Dongsun tells Yoseob he likes him.

                Dongsun tells Yoseob that he likes-likes him.

                He tells Yoseob behind a bush after school near the gates. Yoseob blinks appraisingly.

                Dongsun is good-looking, even during the awkward stage between boy and teenager. His dark hair falls against but not flat on his head and forehead. His eyes always glimmer and glint, and his cheekbones are high, and his lips are curved, and his skin is pale but not paper white, and he’s tall, and his legs are long, and his smile is warm. “So?” Dongsun says, a little nervously, rocking on his feet.

                Yoseob blinks again, looking up at him.

                “I mean, if you’re weirded out,” Dongsun says, looking like he’s about to turn around and walk away with his cheeks flaming.

                “Are we going out then?” Yoseob says, blinking more.

                Dongsun stares for a moment, and then he breaks out into a grin and reaches forward to take Yoseob’s hand. “Well—yeah.”

                Dongsun takes Yoseob out to parks, to his house to do homework—for sleepovers, he takes Yoseob to pools when it’s warm, takes him to dinner with his family. Dongsun gives Yoseob his first kiss and tells Yoseob that he’s good at soccer, that he’s cute when he plays, that he’s an amazing goalie, that he should go pro when he’s older. He tells Yoseob that he’s smart, that they should be like this forever, that no one understands Dongsun behind the perfection beside Yoseob.

                Dongsun does all this with Yoseob under one arm, and a constant stream of girls under his other arm. He brings Yoseob everywhere, and that everywhere is always filled with girls. It’s filled with girls, sometimes it’s even filled with boys, and Dongsun tells all of these things to them, too. He flirts with them for a moment, kisses Yoseob the next, and flirts with them for another moment.  

                Yoseob breaks up with him three months after Dongsun asked him out. Dongsun deals with it just as Yoseob expects him to. He shouts, he’s upset, he asks Yoseob what he’s done wrong, he tells Yoseob that he isn’t flirting, he tells Yoseob that he’ll stop, he tells Yoseob that he’s the best and nothing is ever better, he asks Yoseob for a second chance—

                Yang Yoseob is cute.

                Yang Yoseob is adorable.

                Yang Yoseob isn’t stupid.

                If Hwang Dongsun is the prince of their middle school, Choi Kangdae is the nerd of their middle school. Kangdae is the nerd, but he’s the nerd that all the girls love because of his pretty eyes behind the glasses, because of how he’s good at sports even though he can’t play them because he has to study, because of how he’s kind and sweet and all the mothers love him, because he’s tall and good-looking even though he’s always buried behind books.

                A month after the end of Yoseob’s three months with Dongsun, Kangdae tells Yoseob that he likes him.

                He tells Yoseob that he likes-likes him.

                “Hwang Dongsun’s a jerk,” Kangdae says quietly, looking serious and earnest behind his glasses.

                “Yeah,” Yoseob says, blinking unaffectedly. “And?”

                Kangdae blinks back, surprised. “And—what?”

                “What about him?” Yoseob asks because he doesn’t understand what Dongsun has to do with Kangdae confessing.

                Or maybe he does, but he likes seeing Kangdae flustered.

                The other boy opens his mouth, blankly. “I—I’m not Dongsun.”

                “Well, yeah,” Yoseob says. “You’re Choi Kangdae. I’d be worried if you thought you were two people at once. I think that’s a mental disorder.”

                Kangdae’s mouth opens and closes again, and Yoseob thinks that maybe all that reading has made his brain a little funny because straight A students shouldn’t make stupid faces like that. “I just—Yoseob, ah,” he says, ears bright scarlet, “I like you.”

                “I know,” Yoseob says.

                “And I want to go out with you.”

                “There we go,” Yoseob grins, because Hwang Dongsun didn’t break Yoseob’s heart without paying for damages. From Dongsun, Yoseob received how to flirt—how to make others want you more than you want them. He knows how to flirt now, so he tosses one arm lightly around Kangdae’s neck, having to tiptoe a little to do it and he can see Kangdae’s cheeks redden because Yoseob knows that the boys think demonstrations of his lack of height is adorable.

                Yoseob knows, and that’s important.

                Kangdae says that he’s not Dongsun, and he’s not. Kangdae is quieter, is studious, helps Yoseob with his homework, holds Yoseob’s hand, doesn’t kiss him as much as Dongsun, doesn’t take him out as much because Kangdae likes staying indoors more, he likes being alone with Yoseob at either one of their houses, sleeping over, playing soccer together. Kangdae tells Yoseob that he’s never met anyone as serious with school as Yoseob, tells Yoseob that he’s so much smarter and cleverer than Kangdae, tells Yoseob that he’s so lucky to be able to maintain his grades and play soccer at the same time, tells Yoseob that he’s glad someone like Yoseob would want someone like Kangdae.

                But Kangdae, however unlike Dongsun he is, still has girls queuing up for him. Girls like Kangdae because he is quiet and reserved, and when he is with Yoseob, when the rare smiles come out and shine, girls want him even more. They want him, and Yoseob thinks that maybe Kangdae is different because he’s not Dongsun and because he chooses to be with Yoseob over the girls because Yoseob is the one who makes Kangdae even more popular with the girls anyhow.

                Yoseob is wrong.

                Kangdae’s texts are littered with names of the girls in their grade, and some in the grade above. Kangdae starts bringing girls home to do homework with them at Kangdae’s house. Kangdae starts bringing girls to the soccer field to watch him play with Yoseob. Kangdae tells Yoseob that they should go to parks more, that they should invite other people when they go out, that they should see movies in groups. Kangdae starts flirting in his own way, and Yoseob can see the symptoms again.

                Two-months and three-quarters after Kangdae confesses, Yoseob breaks up with him.

                Kangdae reacts expectedly. He’s distraught, he can’t believe this is happening, he’s so sorry for whatever he’s done wrong, he needs another chance, he’ll never find another boy or a girl as intelligent and amazing as Yoseob, no one will ever understand him as well, he needs to know why he’s upset Yoseob, he wants to know what’s happening, he thought they were so happy together—

                Yoseob realizes that despite Kangdae saying he’s not Dongsun, the words that come out of their mouths are uncannily similar.

                Kangdae broke Yoseob’s heart before it was even able to heal from Dongsun’s attack, which meant that Kangdae paid appropriate damage control for both. With Dongsun, Yoseob learned how to flirt. With Kangdae, Yoseob learned how to know exactly what your appearance can get you—learned how not to get his heart broken again—learned how not to fall in love—learned that good-looking boys know how good they look more than they should—learned that all they see in Yoseob is his face and after that, no matter what they say, it ends there and once they’re tired of it, they’ll leave without looking back.

                After Kangdae, the names go on for a mile and Yoseob can’t even remember all of them. It’s one after the other in rapid fire succession, but Yoseob doesn’t get his heart broken once. They are all the cream of the crop, whether from Yoseob’s school, from the high school adjacent, from other middle schools, from other high schools, they are all the princes, the captains, the presidents of their classes. They are all ridiculously attractive and funny and witty and kind and tell Yoseob that they’ve never met anyone like him and now that they have, they’ll never want anyone else.

                Half of them spend the entire time they are dating Yoseob flirting with the surrounding girls and boys that come with their ridiculous attractiveness and princely-captaincy-presidential status. The other half cheat on Yoseob outright and whether he catches them himself, has someone else tell him, or finds direct evidence, he breaks up with them on the spot. The half that flirts, he breaks up after a month, give or take a few weeks.

                But with everyone, Yoseob learns more and more and he feels his heart safer and safer. With every heartbreaker he dates, the sense of security he has grows more and more.

                He has more kisses through seventh grade, and the physical part of it gets heavier and heavier and deeper and deeper until right before graduation. It gets heavy and deep but Yoseob never has with any of them because then he would have to have with all of them. He doesn’t want to make one think he’s more special than the others because none of them are. They are all the same and they always will be.

                His parents change their business headquarters when Yoseob is about to make the transition to high school. They move houses and so Yoseob transfers schools for high school. All of the boys he’s ever dated in the area send him letters, send him messages, send him food, tell him they’ll miss him, tell him that they still wish he was theirs, tell him that they hope he’ll still remember all of them.

                Yoseob recycles the letters because it’s good for the environment, deletes the messages from his phone because he doesn’t want to clog up his cell, and shares the food with his family and older sister because it’s pretty good—there’s French cake and chocolates and one of them even sends wine for his parents.

                Yoseob dyes his hair before high school. He dyes it bright, white blond, cuts it, and heads off to his first day of high school just like that.

                This school is bigger than Yoseob’s, so it’s a little hard for him to see who’s the on the top rung of the ladder. During the orientation, all of the first years are still in disarray—some with friends from the middle school, but plenty more new like Yoseob and still a little lost—so Yoseob goes off to find his first class alone since birth because Yoseob is usually always surrounded by girls or his boyfriend but more often both because his boyfriends always have girls.

                His first class is Biology Honors with a young, female teacher who introduces herself as Lee Hyori and who Yoseob thinks is ridiculously attractive and badass at the same time. He gets there a few minutes before the bell rings and takes a seat at an empty table—they are lab tables and they are paired in seats of two to a table. He turns around and starts talking to the girls behind him—they smile and laugh with him and they are more than eager to have someone to talk to about the hard beginning of getting settled into high school.

                The bell rings then, and Hyori gets started on introducing the course and herself and asking the names of the students in the class.

                Hyori finishes talking about the supplies they’ll need and is about to start taking role when a boy bursts through the door, looking clearly rushed and aware of how late he is. Everyone stares and Hyori simply introduces herself, smiles reassuringly, makes a joking remark of how he’s forgiven because all the girls will probably be mad if she gives someone as cute as him detention just from orientation, and the boy quickly bows and takes a seat next to Yoseob.

                The boy’s name turns out to be Yoon Doojoon, and he went to the middle school correspondent to this high school.

                After Hyori finishes with the rounds, she goes in the back and lets the class talk until the bell rings. Yoseob is about to sneak out his cell phone and try to see if he can get enough signal to watch a game, when Doojoon swivels around completely in seat to face Yoseob. He hears a casual, “Hi,” and looks up at the other boy.

                And bursts into laughter.

                “What?” Doojoon says, bewildered, except Yoseob can’t even really hear him because he’s laughing that hard

                Because Hyori was right—Doojoon really is good-looking except that his hair is spiked up in a faux-hawk-esque type thing and it’s not that it looks terrible, it just strikes Yoseob as hilarious for some reason and before he can stop himself at the look of further comic on Doojoon’s face, Yoseob blurts out, “Your hair is so stupid.”

                Doojoon’s mouth falls open—he doesn’t look indignant or irritated, just kind of blank which furthers the stupidity and makes Yoseob laugh again even though he’s sure that this isn’t something you’re supposed to do on first meeting because it can give a bit of a not-so-great-or-polite impression. He looks like he’s finally about to say something, when he jerks and whips around to look at the girl Yoseob was talking to just minutes ago.

                “I don’t think it’s stupid,” she says, smiling because Yoseob has already figured out that Doojoon is a Dongsun and this is what happens with Dongsuns.

                Dongsuns always have girls there to kiss things and make boo-boos all better whenever they need, but even though they always go back to that comfort zone, they always want Yoseob first because unlike girls, he can get away with saying things like, “Really? I think it’s completely stupid. He has sideburns and it’s pointy in the back and yeah—it’s just stupid.”

                Yoseob turns to Doojoon to gauge his expression, expecting a witty, flirting line to come with it.

                All that really happens is Yoon Doojoon petting his sideburns and looking comically offended.

                Yoseob laughs again and this time he does it for so long and loud that his stomach hurts for the next five minutes afterward.

                Doojoon is friends with other Dongsuns. He brings Yoseob to them during lunch, and they all look like Dongsuns—they all think Yoseob is adorable and they are all ridiculously attractive with girls at their heels wherever they go. They all play sports, they are all smart, and Yoseob would have continued to write all of them off as Hwang Dongsuns, except they aren’t.

                They aren’t, and it surprises him.

                It surprises him, but he’s glad they aren’t.

                He’s glad they aren’t, because even though he’s used to handling Hwang Dongsuns, it gets a bit tiring after a while, and someone’s heart can only go through so much before it starts to get sore.

                “Aw, that’s so cute,” Yoseob grins, one day when he and Doojoon are the only ones left after soccer practice. Jaebum made them run extra laps at the end for being late, and it’s also their turn to clean up the equipment.

                “Shut up,” Doojoon snorts and picks up another plastic dodging obstacle from the field.  

                “You’ve only had one girlfriend—that’s so cute,” Yoseob continues to tease mercilessly and carries off another cone off the field. Doojoon shoves him to the side and snatches the next cone that Yoseob was about to get.

                Doojoon gathers a few more white plastic obstacles into his arms. “How many have you had then, Seonsangnim?” he retorts sarcastically.

                “I have boyfriends, not girlfriends,” Yoseob points out.

                “Well, how many?”

                Yoseob stops mid-step, and Doojoon stops too to turn around and look at him. Yoseob tries to run through the names in his mind as fast as he can, and comes up with a number that sounds about right—give or take a few. “I think seventeen,” Yoseob says. “But I don’t remember.”

                Doojoon stares.

                And stares.

                And stares.

                And then snorts.

                “Right,” Doojoon says, “of course you did.”

                Yoseob laughs and bumps his shoulder against the older boy’s. “You think I’m lying? Aren’t I adorable enough to have seventeen boyfriends?”

                “You’re not adorable,” Doojoon says, dumping another armful of white obstacles onto the side of the field and then jogging back to gather more. “You’re evil and terrible—haven’t we already gone over this?”

                Yoseob pretends to think, one finger pressed to his lips. “Nope,” he says after a moment and ducks quickly when Doojoon makes to lunge at him again. He laughs. “Now we have though.”

                Doojoon rolls his eyes and grins. He reaches out and hits Yoseob lightly in the stomach with the back of his hand. “Go on and shower,” he says, gesturing towards the locker rooms. “I’ll finish up.”

                Yoseob blinks.

                At least half of the field is still covered in cones and white obstacles and they haven’t even started on cleaning the dirt that’s gathered on the edges of the goals—it’s darkening and if Yoseob stops now, Doojoon’s going to be here well into the night. “You’re never going to finish alone,” Yoseob says, somewhat confused. “And we have tons of Bio homework, so I can’t just leave—“

                “Yoseob-ah,” Doojoon says, still grinning, teasingly, utterly relaxed, “it’s fine. ‘Sides, it always takes you longer to do Bio anyway. Be thankful I’m letting you get a head start against my genius.”

                Yoseob smiles over his confusion and clasps hands with Doojoon briskly. “Thanks, hyung,” he says because his mind is a little in too much chaos to think of something witty to say back.

                His mind is in a little bit of a whirlwind right now, as he jogs to the locker rooms, because while those seventeen Dongsuns never failed to buy Yoseob whatever he wanted, to tell Yoseob continuously about his perfection, there wasn’t one Dongsun amongst those seventeen that offered to stay up until late hours covering for Yoseob and not expect anything in return.

                It’s just a little boggling is all.

Doojoon doesn’t think Yang Yoseob is adorable.

                Doojoon doesn’t think Yang Yoseob is cute.

                If Doojoon doesn’t think Yang Yoseob is cute or adorable, then what does Yoseob have to offer him?

                Knowing is important, and after seventeen Dongsuns, Yoseob can easily tell—can easily know—when someone likes him. He can easily know when someone likes-likes him (and, okay, it helps that he overhears Doojoon talking about wanting to have with Yoseob with an oblivious Junhyung that one time after school). And going into their second year, seeing Doojoon after three months, seeing how Doojoon looks at him after three months, Yoseob confirms the inevitable—he confirms something that he knew was going to happen from the moment he met Doojoon because this is how it always goes.

                Yoon Doojoon likes-likes Yoseob.

                And Yang Yoseob can’t have that happen.

                When Yoseob first met Lee Joon, first met Yong Junhyung, first met Jung Yonghwa, he thought they were all Dongsuns.

                He thought they were all Dongsuns, and in some ways, they are. In some ways they are, but in the ways that really matter, they aren’t.

                Lee Joon is ridiculously attractive and ridiculously smart, but it would be more likely for him to fly to America using nothing but a scrap of wood than for him to play around with all of the girls that insist on bumping into him every time he is caught unawares in the hallway.

                Yong Junhyung is ridiculously charismatic, ridiculously witty, but Yoseob knows that he’s far too smitten with Jang Hyunseung to notice the fact that if saliva was water, than the amount that comes out of girls’ mouths whenever they walk by him would be enough to last a group of ten travelers two years in the Sahara Desert.

                Jung Yonghwa is ridiculously charming, ridiculously funny, and Yoseob knows that although Yonghwa could strum his guitar once and send girls into spasms, Yonghwa already has one girl in mind and despite how mercilessly Yoseob teases him about it, he’s not about to budge.

                Yoseob is glad that he’s met them.

                When Yoseob first met Yoon Doojoon, he thought he was a Dongsun.

                Doojoon is popular, is good at soccer, is smart, is kind, is witty, is flirty, is funny, is clever, is considerate, is patient, is a leader, is friendly, is warm, is outgoing, is immature, is mature, and Yoseob thinks that maybe if Doojoon really did turn out to be a Dongsun, Doojoon wouldn’t be giving the younger boy this much grief.

                But the fact of the matter is that Doojoon isn’t a Dongsun, and yet, Yoseob finds himself liking Doojoon.

                Like-liking Doojoon.

                And that can’t happen—Doojoon can’t like Yoseob and Yoseob can’t like Doojoon because Yoseob’s only ever handled Dongsuns before and Yoseob’s only ever built up heartbreaking immunity to Dongsuns and he’s never been with a Doojoon before so he won’t know how to protect his heart from a Doojoon and if he doesn’t know how, then when he gets his heartbroken, he’ll have to start all over again to put together the pieces.

                Luckily, Yoseob knows how to chase boys away as easily as he can make boys fall for him.

                There were seventeen Dongsuns, but there were a lot more potential Dongsuns that never ended up actually being with Yoseob because Yoseob likes to weed out Dongsuns that he doesn’t think even he can stand to put up with. It’s not hard, really. Those seventeen Dongsuns flirt with other girls and other boys when they are with Yoseob, and when Yoseob wants to chase away potential Dongsuns that he doesn’t like, he flirts with other girls and other boys too.

                To show that he’s not interested.

                It doesn’t work as well as he thought it would when he tries it with Doojoon.

                It’s supposed to work effectively within two or so weeks or Yoseob’s money back guaranteed, except it doesn’t, and Yoseob doesn’t get any money back either, so he’s clearly frustrated and doesn’t know what he’s supposed to try now if Doojoon doesn’t get the message that Yoseob likes his heart in one piece, thanks very much, and keeps on liking Yoseob because this is going to make Yoseob love Doojoon and that absolutely can’t happen.

                Doojoon walks around the perimeter of Yoseob’s bedroom, eyes glued to the photograph-covered walls. Yoseob finishes unpacking his books from his book bag and straightens up to watch the older boy. “You take a lot of pictures,” Doojoon says curiously, stopping in front of one particular chain of photos positioned above Yoseob’s book shelf.

                “You’d take a lot of pictures, too,” Yoseob says, “if you’re as cute as I am.”

                Doojoon turns around and makes a pained face. Yoseob laughs.

                “Are these all your seventeen boyfriends?” the older boy asks, running his fingers over a few of the many, perhaps hundreds, of photos that frame Yoseob’s walls.

                “I think those are the ones I went out with during eighth grade,” Yoseob says thoughtfully, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “I should probably take them all down, huh?” he adds, sticking out his tongue.

                Doojoon leans against the wall, hands in his pockets. “Why do you have them up anyway? Most people I know get rid of stuff about their exes.”

                Yoseob shrugs. “When I was with them, they’d always take pictures and stuff during our dates and put them up on my walls when they came over. And my mom told our maids to redo our rooms the way they were at our old house when we moved, so when our house was done, my room was back like this.”

                Doojoon’s eyes are unreadable, looking back right at Yoseob, the older boy’s jaw set a little too tightly. Yoseob waits to see what the other boy’s next move will be because he knows Doojoon likes-likes him and he wants to know how Doojoon will take this. He’s just curious, really, because even though Junhyung always tells Yoseob that Doojoon is the most predictable, not-exciting-at-all person to be with, Yoseob thinks quite the opposite.

                “This isn’t good for your sleeping habits,” Doojoon says finally after a grand pause. He says it briskly and turns around just as briskly and begins to peel the photos off of Yoseob’s walls.

                Yoseob blinks, and stands up from surprise. He feels like he should laugh but doesn’t know if he should, and doesn’t know what he’d be laughing over if he did. “Wait—hyung—what?”

                Doojoon turns his head with raised eyebrows, throwing the photos he’s managed to take off into the trash can next to Yoseob’s desk. “If you keep looking at these before you go to bed, you’re going to get nightmares. I heard it stalls brain development if you look at disfigured images too much.”

                Now, Yoseob knows he’s supposed to laugh, and he does.

                He laughs and laughs and laughs because he gets it and it’s hilarious and terrible at the same time. It’s hilarious because Doojoon is always hilarious and Yoseob loves him and loves him and he loves him so it’s terrible as well as hilarious and Yoseob is so ed that it’s ridiculous.

                “Hyung,” Yoseob says, when he can speak coherently again. He hangs on Doojoon’s shoulders, restraining laughter that keeps wanting to bubble up. “Hyung—all seventeen of those guys were like the Lee Joons of their schools.”

                Doojoon snorts. “Yeah—schools of the blind. They’re obviously disfigured and hideous—I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe you need glasses—my mom knows a good optometrist.” He tosses another ten or so photos into the trash can. Yoseob still can’t raise his head because his eyes are scrunched tight and he thinks his stomach is going to explode from silent laughter. His hands are still hanging on Doojoon’s shoulders, and right then he feels Doojoon wrap one arm around his waist and tumble them both all the way onto Yoseob’s bed.

                Yoseob buries his face in the mattress and feels that calm his laughter down, but now Doojoon is laughing, too. “Okay,” Yoseob breathes, “Okay.” He laughs one more time and then kicks Doojoon’s leg, after he sits up. Doojoon stays spread-eagle on Yoseob’s bed, grinning at the ceiling. “I guess it’s a good thing you came over,” Yoseob says sarcastically, “so now I have someone to help me take the potentially mind-retarding pictures down.”

                “See?” Doojoon grins impishly. “I knew me ditching our chef’s kimbab night was a good idea.”

                “Yeah, because you know that my chef makes better kimbab anyway,” Yoseob retorts, and Doojoon laughs.

                With Dongsuns, Yoseob is never the one to confess first—he’s usually not the one to confess first because after the first four, he doesn’t even really like any of them. They are just good-looking, and fun to be with, and fun to kiss, and you can never have too much French cake, and there’s no point in having to go through the trouble of rejecting them because it’s not like Yoseob’s pledging his permanent love to them or anything—it’s just dating and if he gets kisses, and a good-looking boy, and dates, and food, then why would he say no?

                Doojoon still hasn’t confessed.

                It’s well into the first half of their second year and Yoseob knows that Doojoon likes him, and everyone else knows that Doojoon likes him, but Doojoon still hasn’t confessed and Yoseob doesn’t know why.

                Because Yoseob is waiting for Doojoon to just hurry up and confess so they can date and then Doojoon can decide that he doesn’t want Yoseob—that he wants a nice, sweet girl instead who doesn’t make fun of his hair or demand French cake from him and then Yoseob can break up with him and then they can just go back to being best friends again.

                It would be a lot better than the way things are now.

                The way things are now, Yoseob is just watching Doojoon obviously upset when Yoseob flirts with half the school population and gets raptly admiring attention from the other half, and yet Doojoon doesn’t show a single bit of that frustration to Yoseob—Doojoon continues to be funny and kind and warm and helpful and smart and good at soccer and playful and if Yoseob falls any more with Doojoon, he’ll end up falling flat on his face, unable to get back up.

                At the end of second semester, their soccer team has to go to a recreational sort of team-building workshop-type thingy that Junho explains as something their coach is making them do and he himself as captain has no idea what it actually is, but it’s a new program so it probably, most likely, perhaps, he doesn’t guarantee, won’t hurt them and it’s not like they have anything else to do during the weekend.

                To which there are protests of outrage, the best of which in Yoseob’s opinion, is Wooyoung’s statement of this only applying to Junho because he is a lonely social outcast and gets a white, practice obstacle thrown at his face by the captain.

                They get handed out papers with the itineraries for the weekend printed on it, rooming arrangements, along with the names of the schools that will be participating with their soccer teams. Yoseob scans through the information—finds that he’s rooming with Junhyung, and finds—

                His eyebrows furrow.

                And finds—

                He finds that he recognizes the names of one of the schools.

                If he remembers correctly, it’s the school that Dongsun version 7.0 is from.

                Dongsun version 7.0 is Lee Youngjae.

                Lee Youngjae       , as Yoseob remembers, wasn’t any different from the other Dongsuns—there were Dongsuns that stood out from the others, simply because they were a little bit more varied, but Youngjae was one of the normal ones as far as the Dongsuns went. Yoseob thought he was normal all the way up until a few weeks into their relationship, which was probably when Youngjae started seeming not-too-normal anymore.

                Youngjae was possessive.

                Youngjae flirted and played around while he was dating Yoseob, same as the others, but Youngjae was the only one who kept insisting that he wasn’t flirting or playing around. And when Yoseob flirted and played around back—something that he’d always done to the other Dongsuns, and none of them had really genuinely cared even though they pretended to—Youngjae would get truly, really, honestly possessive.

                In the freaky kind of way.

                Youngjae is one year older than Yoseob, meaning that when he dated him in eighth grade, Youngjae was already a first year at his high school. From the information on the sheet given to them, Youngjae is now a third year—expectedly—and the captain of his soccer team.

                Yoseob is never one to be scared easily, and while he’s not scared of Youngjae and Youngjae’s cronies (because Lee Youngjae is one of those well-rounded-seemingly-prestigious-mother’s-favorites who actually bullies other kids until Yoseob clearly remembers that there were rumors about him causing an entire group of ten kids to change schools because it became that terrible), he’s at least a little worried of what might happen if he were to be alone with Youngjae during this coming weekend.

                Part of him wants to tell Doojoon—part of him actually seriously considers telling Doojoon, but the other part of him is putting up a big, cement barrier in front of the part that wants to tell the older boy because why would Yoseob do that? Why would Yoseob tell Doojoon about an ex problem when it’s none of Doojoon’s business and bothering him about something like this is just going to make Doojoon think Yoseob is eviler and more terrible than ever.

                So he doesn’t.

                He doesn’t tell Doojoon or any of the others about it, but when he finds himself cornered in the locker rooms of the host school by two of Youngjae’s cronies who have decided to take it upon themselves to beat their leader’s ex to a bloody pulp although Yoseob doubts that their regressive pre-homo-erectus mentalities have gotten any further than that point in their planning and he also doubts that Youngjae’s definitely-post-homo-erectus-mentality-but-with-a-splash-of-crazy has gotten any further than that point in the planning, too.

                Needless to say, even if their planning isn’t very far-reaching into the stratosphere, it doesn’t change the fact that Yoseob is beginning to think that maybe he’s really ed because Youngjae is much bigger than Yoseob, and thus his cronies are always bigger than Yoseob, and the two Frankensteins in front of him are no exception.

                He doesn’t really try to fight back. He knows that either way, he’s going to come out of this with, at the very least, cuts and bruises and if he fights back, there might be sprains and fractures involved so at the very least, he should try not to get injuries that’ll cost his team anything in the near future.

                He tries not to focus on the pain.

                It helps when Doojoon arrives.

                It helps, but Yoseob wished that it would’ve been anyone except for him.

                Yoseob always acts helpless, always plays the part of weak and endearing for the Dongsuns.

                He doesn’t want to be that way in front of Doojoon.

                He’s never wanted any of the Dongsuns. With every Dongsun he’s gone through, he’s taught himself to never want anyone—never depend on anyone—never care for anyone, because Yang Yoseob has to be loved and shared by everyone, so he has to love and share everyone, too.

                Yoseob doesn’t want to share Doojoon.

                Yoseob wants Doojoon.

                Yoseob loves Doojoon.

                And it scares him.

                Dongsun 4.0 pulls Yoseob up close and talks right up against Yoseob’s ear, tells him that he’s adorable, tells him that he’s hot, kisses him on the lips and grins at him like he’s the only one in the world.

                Yoseob catches Dongsun version 4.0 making out with an older girl from his neighborhood at a party two days later.

                Doojoon shoves Yoseob into goalposts and tells the younger boy that he looks disgusting and horrible covered in sweat and dirt. If it’s raining that day, he splashes mud puddles in Yoseob’s face on purpose so he has to wipe it off with his arm during practice and makes it smear even worse.

                Before Yoseob can even head towards the locker room, Doojoon is already wiping the younger boy’s face off with his own towel.

                Dongsun 8.0 runs his fingers through Yoseob’s hair playfully and says that Yoseob will have no problem acing the test tomorrow. He closes Yoseob’s books and yanks him in close to kiss him, smirking about how they should do other things instead of wasting time studying since Yoseob is so smart.

                Four days later, Dongsun 8.0 has his hands up the skirt of a teacher’s daughter because he needs to use her to get answer sheets to the midterm exam.

                Doojoon says that Yoseob is going to fail his History test because Yoseob deserves an F after almost spilling hot chocolate on Doojoon’s Literature project multiple times. He hunches over his own History notes and says that Yoseob should’ve taken his own notes instead of sleeping through three History classes in a row and spending another three flicking paper at the back of Joon’s head and making the ridiculously attractive boy poorly confused about whether aliens exist or not.

                The morning of the History test, Yoseob wakes up to perfectly copied notes that are revised especially for him to quick-read them, especially copied so he can understand them better by sixth period and next to the notes, Doojoon is slumped over asleep still in his uniform from the day before.

                Dongsun 11.0 watches Yoseob play soccer, tells him that he’s the most amazing goalkeeper he’s ever seen, tells Yoseob that he has to go pro when he’s older. He invites Yoseob over to his house to use the field there, showers Yoseob with compliments in front of his family when he invites Yoseob over for dinners. He takes Yoseob out to soccer games and gives him signed soccer balls that his father’s company has an abundance of.

                Yoseob finds Dongsun 11.0 with the bare legs of a cheerleader wrapped around his waist a few days before Yoseob has to leave for a tournament.

                Doojoon scoffs whenever Yoseob teases about how the goalie has a far harder job than the other positions. Doojoon gets huffy and folds his arms and says that Yoseob doesn’t know how hard it is to be running up and down a field during the entire game, and how sometimes that’s made worse because Hyunseung seems to think that the proper way to pass is by aiming the ball at someone’s kneecap or, even more desirably, face.

                Whenever Yoseob manages to get down a new goalie skill that he’s been trying to learn for weeks and shows Doojoon, the older boy runs towards him and takes him in a hug so tight that it leaves Yoseob breathless for at least two minutes after Doojoon lets go.

                Every single Dongsun tells Yoseob that they’ll be together forever—that they only want and only ever need Yoseob. Every single Dongsun tells Yoseob that they love him, that they can never have enough words to describe how brilliant he is. Every single Dongsun has pretty words and pretty, bright eyes and those pretty words rain on Yoseob while they shine those pretty, bright eyes down on him.

                Every single Dongsun leaves Yoseob not long after—they always end up wanting a lot more, needing a lot more, than Yoseob. Every single Dongsun proves exactly to Yoseob how they love girls—they love to flirt and play, and even though they have dictionaries upon dictionaries of words to describe how brilliant he is, none of those words means anything because they shower those words on anything in a skirt and heels too.

                Yoseob decides that he’s going to kiss Doojoon.

                He decides that Doojoon is different and because Doojoon is so different, because he’s not a Dongsun, maybe Yoseob should be the one to confess.

                After all, it’s the least he can do after everything Doojoon’s done for Yoseob’s heart.

                Yoseob has no idea what kind of paint or cement or glue Doojoon used, but Yoseob can’t even tell that his heart was broken in the first place.

                Doojoon tells Yoseob that if the younger boy makes him buy one more French cake again that he’s going to break up with him on the spot. He grumbles about how Yoseob drags him to far too many shops just to find one right pair of imported, designer sneakers that Doojoon has already told him he’ll get the younger boy for his birthday in a few weeks anyway. Doojoon never fails to tell Yoseob how terrible and awful and mean he is and how this is probably definitely surely domestic abuse and he’s going to get his father’s lawyer to sue. Doojoon has stupid hair and sometimes his face is as scary as Junhyung’s.

                Doojoon has been with Yoseob for a year—has been by Yoseob’s side for longer than any of the Dongsuns have even ever cared to stop flirting with five other girls and pay attention to Yoseob alone. Yoseob will point out girls to Doojoon at their school, at the mall, at parties, and Doojoon will look straight at them, turn back to Yoseob, shrug, and ask him if he wants to try out the new indoor soccer field at the mall near Dongwoon’s house. When they fight, even if Yoseob is the one who’s wrong, Doojoon never fails to show up—in the middle of the night, too early in the morning, dead in the afternoon—at Yoseob’s bedroom window and apologize even if Yoseob is the one who should be apologizing.

                Doojoon tells Yoseob that he loves him and Yoseob knows that he means it.

                “Yoseob-ah,” Doojoon shouts and makes another lunge at the younger boy. Yoseob hurriedly twists his body to the side and dodges, running away a few meters out of the danger zone. Doojoon stumbles exhaustedly and groans. “Yoseob-ah, I’m serious, give it back.”

                Yoseob laughs. “Why?” he says. “Do you need it that badly?”

                Doojoon looks incredulous. “It’s my math homework,” the older boy says dryly. “That I spent all day working on because of the load of Bio we have tonight.”

                Yoseob raises an eyebrow playfully, waving the piece of graph paper in the air. “Ah—so you were doing homework instead of paying attention in class? Instead of paying attention to your boyfriend?”

                Doojoon makes another attempt to grab the paper, but Yoseob dodges again—partially succeeding because he’s smaller, partially because Doojoon doesn’t want the paper to rip, and partially because Doojoon probably doesn’t want to actually knock Yoseob to the ground and hurt him.

                “Yes,” Doojoon says wryly, “because me refusing to play hangman with you while Jung-seonsangnim is telling us about Friday’s test is definitely grounds for relationship counseling time with Joonie-hyung.”

                  “I had such a good word,” Yoseob says with a straight face.

                “That’s great,” Doojoon says. “Go tell Joo-seonsangnim so we can have it as a vocab word next week or something, and give me back my math homework.”

                Yoseob shrugs. “Here,” he says indifferently, holding it out.

                Doojoon watches him warily as he comes forward step by step, reaching for the piece of graph paper with one hand. As the older boy gets closer, Yoseob begins to walk backwards, a smile on his face. It’s not long before Doojoon seems to understand and grins back, taking bigger and quicker steps, cornering Yoseob all the way into the wall.

                “You know,” Doojoon murmurs, his breath warm and feathery against Yoseob’s mouth, as he slips the older boy the homework, hands next to their hips because there’s not even a centimeter to spare between their bodies, “you could’ve just said.”

                “Aw,” Yoseob smiles. “But that’s not romantic.”

                Doojoon draws away just a little to snort. “Since when’ve you ever been romantic?” he asks.

                “Since you,” Yoseob teases and Doojoon pretends to make revolted faces.

                “Yeah, sure,” Doojoon rolls his eyes. He leans forward, tilting his head and catching Yoseob’s lips in a kiss, one hand cupping the younger boy’s face, thumb brushing softly and carefully over Yoseob’s cheekbone.

                Yoseob is the one to pull away when tongues start to get involved. He waits for a moment, getting back his breath and bearings while Doojoon grins. “See?” Yoseob says, hearing the breathlessness in his voice and knowing that that’s why Doojoon starts to grin broader. “Isn’t this so much better than math homework?”

                Doojoon raises his eyebrows playfully. “If by ‘this’,” he says, “you mean this,” and Doojoon pokes Yoseob in the forehead gently. “Then yeah,” Doojoon smiles, and Yoseob feels his heart race a few beats out of tempo, “it is. I personally think that this,” and this time the older boy snakes his arms around Yoseob’s waist, resting his intertwined fingers in the arch of the younger boy’s back, “is better than everything in general, but if you just wanted to compare with the math homework, that’s cool, too.”

                Yoseob stares for a moment and then snorts, arms around Doojoon’s neck. “And you asked when I started being romantic,” he says, scoffing.

                Doojoon just laughs and tips his head forward to kiss Yoseob again.