Kyungsoo arrived home faster than he reckoned he would; the speed of the need to scape surprisingly fast, he mused; that or the burgers were really good.

He tossed his bag to one side of his room and immediately dashed back downstairs. He plopped down on the sofa face down and sighed right into the cushions. He turned his head sideways and stared at the off TV. He had plans for today; he remembers being excited for something, but the thought had disintegrated from his mind. Was it a TV show? Was it cooking something special tonight? Was it homework - No - definitely not homework. With his thoughts so heavy with what occurred with Jongin, Kyungsoo decided to be proactive and call Chanyeol, before the taller boy got wind of what happened and decide to take retribution in his own free way.

The pale student pulled out his phone from his pocket and swiftly made a call to Chanyeol. The phone beeped, indicating a call in progress several times, before finally yielding an answer:

“Hello...?” replied a deep voice, coated with cautiousness.

“Chanyeol, it's me.” Kyungsoo declared, in a unlike the times he addressed his, otherwise, cheery friend.

“Kyungsoo, it's you! Man, I've got to register your number, it showed you as unknown. Anyway, what's up?”

Kyungsoo chuckles, finding safety in his friends carefree remarks, “Are you at home?” he asked, turning on his back on the sofa and facing the ceiling.

“On my way now. I think I managed to understand a little of today's literature lesson.”

“Good for you, I'm still dumb. Thanks for leaving me behind.” He said bitterly, feeling abandoned in terms of his inability.

“Hey, we can study together next time.”

“I'm joking, let's not. Heaven knows we'd just joke around and not do actual work.”

“Heh, maybe you're right.”

An inquietude overflowed in their conversation, as if the oxygen that lingered on the waves of communication suddenly cut off between the two. Chanyeol noticed something wrong, Kyungsoo knew he was wrong, but, being close friends, through awkwardness and silence, they stride through, thinking nothing of it:

“Hey, Yeollie, I got something to tell you...”

“Oh...” Chanyeol let out on the other line, expecting the worse “you sound shaken, what's wrong?”

“I kind of had... another argument with Jongin.”

“Again!?” Chanyeol let out an exasperated groan, as if somewhat having foreseen that Jongin and he would argue “What has he done?”

Kyungsoo, surprised at his friend's reaction, queried “Why do you assume that it was his fault?”

“Look, I'm friends with the guy; he's a good guy yeah, he's a top-ranker, fine,” Chanyeol stated, with a rising tone to his voice. Kyungsoo knew to expect that his friend would soon blow a fuse “but he can be so goddamn insensitive sometimes, and what pisses me off is that no one corrects him, because he gets treated like a ing prince!”

“Gee, Yeollie, it doesn't sound like you're his friend...” Kyungsoo commented, seldom witnessing his friend cuss out of jest context.

“Okay, acquaintance, and after you tell me what he has done, a dead man.”

“No, Yeollie, please... we just had a disagreement,” Kyungsoo's free hand, the one that did not hold the phone close to his ear travelled down to his clothed stomach, where he grasped his shirt, feeling the symptomatic turmoil brewing inside him, reminding him of the pain and sorrow, “as you know, I acted out a romantic scene for him and he didn't like it... he was kind of ignoring me for a while.”

“Not really, considering he was looking your way during class.”

“He did that because he thinks...” Kyungsoo stalled, feeling the words, the meaning cutting into his skin “I am wrong.”

“Wrong? On what?”

“No, Chanyeol,” The pale student shook his head, to no point, seeing as they were conversing on the phone “I am wrong, as a person, as a human.”

“WHAT?! That Christ--er! I'm gonna - ”

“Chanyeol! Mind what you say!” Kyungsoo blurted out, flabbergasted at the sacrilegious vernaculars thrown into their dialogue “Where are you anyway?”

“I'm walking through the Central Plaza now.”

“And you don't care what people say out of your mouth?”

“Let 'em try... I am pissed!” Chanyeol then let out a throaty, and raspy groan.

“Don't be, he just doesn't believe that it is right, you know? There's people like that. The thing is, he wasn't unpleasant about it, Yeollie. He didn't to hurt me with what he said. I swear, you can ask Yifan, he was there.”

“Yifan? What...? What the hell happened from when you left me in the library to go home? Aish... Nevermind, listen, I don't care. You're my best friend, and as your best friend, I sure as hell am not going to let somebody disrespect you like that, you hear?”

“Chanyeol, you cannot undermine people's belief. He believes in what he wants, and we tolerate that. Besides, he apologised for what he said and we promised to each other to never cross paths. I'm fine.”

“But, Kyungsoo...” Chanyeol called out in a more somber and calm town, “you like Jongin, don't you? I mean... you're hurt, aren't you?”

Kyungsoo sighed. He sat up from using the ceiling as his mental projector against the many folds of Jongin's many expressions; from anger, sadness, despair and guilt. He was beautiful all the same, and with that beauty, came a soothing wave of acceptance, a serenity at the diversion of his path from Jongin's, someone he knows would never adore him as much as he adored him. And though the wishes to witness that perfect smile directed at him, to hear that joyful laughter ring in his ear, would never come to fruition, he held onto himself the hope that someday he would find something that would mirror such pulchritude, for just himself.

“Yeah, I do, but, we all have crushes. It'll go away and I'll be fine.”

“It doesn't like a crush to me, to be honest, the way you stare, and go on about him sometimes... Want to me to sleepover tonight? I'm worried about you.”

“Nah, Chanyeol, I'm fine, really. Thanks, but no, I need to start learning to get over it by myself; since it's me who kind of crushed on him...”

“Ah, fine, but text me, and Luhan, let us know how you do, okay?”

“Of course.”

The call ended, and Kyungsoo felt lighter and the scorching boiling in his stomach ceased, feeling the ease of a friend's words and care through the wavelengths. With that thought in mind, he hopped the couch, ready to start dinner, for his hard-working sisters.

At the dinner table, the three siblings enjoyed a warm vegetable broth, courtesy of Sooyeon's client, Mrs. Ahn, for the alteration made on her favourite evening gown; a basketful of the vegetables from the farm from the next town over. With the help of an online recipe, the right seasoning and Soojung's fast hand with the knife (a skill that terrified Kyungsoo) the family enjoyed a tasty yet simple recipe for dinner.

“This is good!” exclaimed the younger of the siblings, “I can't believe vegetables can have this much taste.” She smiled at the bright colour of yellow and orange liquid on her bowl.

“The vegetables were really ripe and fresh,” Kyungsoo added, he then turned to the head of the table, where Sooyeon enjoyed the dish subtly, “There's still more if everyone wants some.”

“Good, I'm exhausted; I had to help the delivery man today with today's new merchandise,” Sooyeon looked to both her younger siblings “The stuff from China arrived today,” she declared brightly, with a bright beam upon her face, “brand new and all,” she sighed, relieved that the merchandise ordeal was over and she could just start going through the process of adding her own style to the new clothes at the boutique, “I can't wait to start working on them.”

“Oh God, are you going to stay all night with the sewing machine...?” Soojung eyed the eldest with fear, “Kyungsoo, we are not going get sleep.”

“Oh no...” Kyungsoo shared his sister's lament.

“No, I am not, and both of you stop acting silly – it's not like I do it all night.”

“Yes, you do, Unnie,” Soojung pressed on the issue, “The machine is loud but you are even louder when your project ends up being what you wanted,” she slump on her seat, rubbing his forehead in painful remembrance “last season, I could've sworn you were getting murdered but you were just shouting in happiness that the side cut you made to the straight dress, after adding a side-sash, and the alteration to the figure worked out.”

“To be fair, it was a pretty dress.” Kyungsoo shrugged.

“Thank you, Kyungsoo.” Sooyeon remarked, sending a knowing look to the youngest.

However, Kyungsoo then said, “But you are loud, Noona...Sorry.”

“Oh.” Sooyeon dead-panned, looking at the frowning, kitty faces of his siblings. She outwardly hid the desire to pull her phone out and snap them, but allowed that desire to rest within, instead, choosing to roll her eyes, and let the issue climb over her shoulder and off her mind.

“See?” Soojung highlighted, pressing for a compromise from the eldest.

“I understand, but I also earn the most in this household, I get priority to be loud,” huffed Sooyeon, finding those ceremonious moments of extreme loud elation the reason she partook in her current career choice, “so I will ask for your tolerance and patience this coming season, as well.”

“Kyungsoo, you throw your hat into that ring,” Soojung gestured to Kyungsoo, “you're a breadwinner as well.”

Kyungsoo stared at his sibling, startled at being posed to stand against Sooyeon's wishes “Yes, but...” he then looked to the head of the table, where the eldest had a chilling expression, lost in translation of chilling indifference and wordless authoritarian, “No, Noona needs to work.” stated Kyungsoo quietly, looking down on his dish, avoiding eye contact between his female siblings.

“Agh...” Soojung groaned in annoyance, expecting loud nights ahead. Meanwhile, the eldest just smiled to herself.

With Soojung kindly, and rarely, offering to wash the dishes herself, Kyungsoo climbed up to his room lethargically, even if he had not done much that day, besides have a lot of emotionally charged conversations with his friends. He entered his room, at the end of the first floor corridor and closed it behind him. He then slumped his back and placed it against the door sighing. Palming his eyes, he questioned every belief about love that he had, from having watched hundreds of dramas on the TV, folk tales in Korean Literature and word on the street; it just seemed a lot of drama for a piece of heaven that was too fleeting... but it was a piece that he himself wanted. He desired it because of what he felt when he first fell for Jongin; the lightness in his steps, the trembling of his heart, the adrenaline in his blood... it was exhilarating and something he never felt before. Excitement often escaped his peaceful life, and whatever emotion his body pumped, was either fear, anxiety or sorrow... love brought him hope and energy, and he now had to lose it, something he was used to, all too much.

He approached his window and opened it, allowing the air of the sea to come into his room. He collected the futon hanging from the pane and placed it down on the floor. He stood by the view of the ocean and the sky, finding a yearning of going into the infinity of the horizon and not looking back, finding a sense of relief and peace at the thought of it.

A ring then echoed loudly in the room, startling Kyungsoo from his mulling. He rushed to the corner of the room, next to the wardrobe, where the phone was plugged and charging. He grabbed it, unhooked it from the charger and replied with a soft “hello?” whilst hoping that his sisters didn't notice the noise; he'd rather not explain how he got the phone, specially after they offered him to get him one, to which he refused, due to expenses stretching the family. How could he explain to his loving sisters that he took the phone of a stranger over the one offered to him by his own family?

He couldn't.

“Kyungsoo! I've been waiting for you forever!” exclaimed a loud voice over the line, “where the hell were you?”

“Luhan?!” replied a shocked Kyungsoo, not expecting a call from his friend, much less such a loud correspondence “What's wrong?”

“You told me that you'd call me! I've been obsessing and waiting on my phon