Joonmyeon’s mother died when he was born. They never met each other. All he knew was that he looked like her because he had inherited her brown eyes and hair, her lips and nose.

After his mother’s death, Joonmyeon’s father decided to focus entirely on work. So, Joonmyeon rarely saw his father. Instead, exceptional nannies took care of him but could never convey the love of a parent. Oddly enough, this never made the older Joonmyeon feel hatred towards his father, if anything he felt thankful for his father’s hard work.

That didn't mean younger Joonmyeon didn't feel alone most of the time. But everything felt slightly better when either his grandparents, or Jongdae and his parents came over. It made him feel like he had a real family.

One day little five-year-old Joonmyeon found a side of the house he had never seen before. His nanny had left him to play alone for a while, and he decided to take a tour around the mansion. His aimless wander took him to the staff’s floor.

As he was walking down the hallway, he saw an open door. There was a boy inside. He was sitting at a table writing something. Curious as he was, Joonmyeon approached him.

He saw how meticulously the boy was writing in his journal. The characters were foreign to Joonmyeon. It wasn’t Korean.

“What are you writing?” he asked.

The boy turned his head to his left and looked at him astonished.

“Young Master Kim! What are you doing here?” the raven-haired said.

Joonmyeon could see his face now. He had long bangs that covered his forehead and sparkling dark eyes. 

“Why did you call me that? My name is Joonmyeon.”

The boy got up from his seat and grabbed Joonmyeon's hand. “You have to go back upstairs. Nanny Lee must be searching after you.”

“But she said I could play. Hey do you want to play with me?” Joonmyeon asked innocently.

They were walking down the hall now. “No, we can’t. You are Young Master Kim, and I’m just a servant’s child. It’s not appropriate.”

“I don’t know what you mean. What’s your name?”

As the boy was about to answer, they reached the stairs and saw an old woman coming down.

“Oh thank god! There you are Young Master Joonmyeon,” she said between breaths. “I told to play in your room as I was bringing your evening snack. Thanks, little Yixing.” The woman said as she grabbed Joonmyeon’s other hand.

Yixing released his grip. Joonmyeon turned around and saw him running back down the hall.

“Yick-sing? Is that his name nanny Lee?” he asked her as they walked up the stairs.

“Yes, but you don't pronounced it like that,” the woman answered.

From that day onward, Joonmyeon returned to the servant’s floor. He was curious about Yixing (he had learned how to say it by now) and wanted to know more about him. On the other hand, Yixing always avoided him or brought him back to the floor upstairs.

But then one morning he saw Yixing on the main floor’s living room. He was crouched down moving some stuff.

Joonmyeon got closer and saw that he was picking up the traces from a vase he most likely broke. Yixing was very close to bursting into tears. It pained him seeing Yixing like that.

“Yixing, don’t be sad,” he said as he squatted down next to Yixing.

The boy looked at him afraid and said, “Young Master Kim I…”

In that instant, a maid came inside. She saw the children on the floor and approached them. “What happened here? Yixing did you do that?” she asked him with an unpleased tone.

As the said boy was just about to answer, Joonmyeon interrupted him. “I did it! It was my fault. Yixing was just helping me pick up the pieces.”

The maid lost her angry frown and replaced it with a tender smile. “It’s no problem Young Master Joonmyeon. I’ll take it from now, it’s dangerous,” she said as she leaned down and gathered the pieces from Yixing’s small hands. “By the way, what are you doing here Yixing? You know you can’t be on the main floor.”

Yixing stood up, “I was looking after Mama Shuang. I need help with my Chinese homework. I’ll go back now.”

They left the living room and walked towards the servant’s floor.

Yixing did not talk to him until they reached the stairs, “Thank you, Young Master Kim,” he said as he bowed, “You didn’t have to do that. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

Joonmyeon smiled brightly, “I know! One, don’t call me that. I don’t like it, Joonmyeon sounds better. And two, promise me you'll talk to me. Let’s be friends, okay?” he said as he raised his little finger to pinky promise their deal.

Yixing beamed at him, and Joonmyeon saw a small hole forming on his right cheek.

With his other hand, he poked the small orifice, “What’s that?”

“That’s my dimple,” Yixing responded as he pinky promised with Joonmyeon, “I promise we’ll be friends from now on.”

“Dimples… They make you look cute.” Joonmyeon uttered in awe.

Yixing laughed, and Joonmyeon felt happy because he had finally talked to him.

Nine years later, Yixing and Joonmyeon had become best friends. They connected well with each other. They realized they had some things in common for instance, none of them had parents. Yixing would often disagree and say Joonmyeon still had his father, but Joonmyeon considered his presence equaled as not being there.

Joonmyeon enjoyed spending time with Yixing. It did not matter if they were talking, playing old games, studying or listening to music (something Yixing really liked). Sometimes he found himself spending more time on the servant’s floor rather than on the main floor. People got tired of subtlety trying to kick him out.

Yixing was the only person who seemed to consider him funny since he always laughed at his jokes. But that was enough for Joonmyeon. Yixing’s laughter made him happy. Joonmyeon had also observed that behind Yixing’s well-mannered and serious attitude, laid a playful and sneaky one.

One Christmas night, the year they were fourteen and sixteen years old, Joonmyeon gave Yixing a big surprise.

His father usually hosted the annual family gather; however, this year many of them decided to travel overseas. So, to fill the guest-list the old man invited distinguished faces from the business world.

It wasn’t the kind of party Joonmyeon liked. He always felt those people were rather pretentious. To his dismay, there was this girl, Hye, who kept clinging onto him. It was annoying the heck out of him. That’s why at eleven o'clock he excused himself and went back to his bedroom.

He grabbed a big box and walked towards Yixing’s room on the servant’s floor.  Joonmyeon placed the package outside the room and knocked on the door but he quietly opened it. “Yixing, are you still awake?” he asked.

“I guessed you would come, Joonmyeon. Though I’m surprised you’re here so early,” Yixing answered without looking up from his desk. The image brought Joonmyeon memories from a distant time.

“Ugh. Those people are all so annoying. Everything they talk about is money this, money that. You wouldn’t stand them either,” Joonmyeon complained as he walked closer to the other.

Yixing laughed and turned towards him. “You do know you are one of them as well, don’t you?”

“But I’m not that presumptuous, aren’t I?” Joonmyeon asked while raising an eyebrow.

Yixing touched his chin and looked as if he was thinking carefully, “Well I live under your roof so… No, I really can’t answer that truthfully.”

Joonmyeon hit him lightly. “Don’t lie.”

Then they both chuckled until Joonmyeon talked again, “Hey, close your eyes! I got a surprise for you.”

“Do I dare to do that?”

Joonmyeon rolled his eyes, “Come on! I'm telling you, you’re going to love this!”

Yixing finally compelled and closed his eyes. Joonmyeon went to the door and brought inside the big box.

“Ok, Merry Christmas Yixing!” he shouted excitedly.

Yixing opened his eyes and stared at the box in disbelief. It was the package of an acoustic guitar.

“Are you serious Joonmyeon? Or are you just giving me the empty box?”

“Dead serious.”

“Wow,” Yixing said as he leaned down to open the box. It was a black acoustic guitar with nylon strings. The same model Yixing was half-way through saving to buy. He carefully the strings and let their sound reverberate in the room. Then he stood up and hugged Joonmyeon, “This was too much Joonmyeon… I don’t know why you are so kind to me. But thank you very much.”

Joonmyeon hugged him back and beamed,  feeling pleased with himself for making Yixing happy.

“It’s no problem Yixing. You have an incredible talent and passion for music. You deserve this more than anyone.”

After they had separated Joonmyeon saw Yixing’s smile falter. “But I don’t have anything for you Joonmyeon,” he said miserably.

“Do you really think me, of all people, is in need of something?”

Yixing laughed. “See, this is why you’re quite pretentious,” he said jokingly.

But Joonmyeon was right. He did not feel the need of a gift from Yixing. For him, it was just enough to see the other happy. It was the best present he could ever wish for.

However, not everything continued to go smoothly for them. During the following year of that Christmas night, Yixing started to distance himself from Joonmyeon.

On the weekdays after school, they would often meet and spend time together. But slowly Yixing made sure to come later and later. Until one day, he didn't even show up until the evening. When Joonmyeon had asked him why, he would say it was because he had a lot of stuff to do at school, especially now that he was in his senior year in high school.

Eventually, Joonmyeon gave up waiting and decided to leave Yixing by himself. He chose to focus more and more on school as well. In two years he was going to be needing an exceptional grade to pass his college entrance exam.

It was odd for him not to be around Yixing. There were days where he missed him so much it made him unhappy. He missed his laugh, the way his dimple would appear when he smiled, the teasing remarks, his help whenever he had questions about his Chinese homework (Joonmyeon had wanted to learn the language).

And the day he actually realized Yixing’s change in demeanor didn't help him feel better. It was when they boy called him “Young Master Kim” once again.

He questioned him about it, “Yixing why are you calling me that again? You know we’re friends, there is no need for formalities.”

“I’m sorry, that’s not an appropriate behavior. In less than a year, I will be assigned as your personal driver. I can’t go around calling my boss by his name, ” Yixing had answered.

“But I’m not your boss. My father is. We’re friends! Plus, that won’t happen until November next year.”

Yixing sighed. “You are still the boss’s son,” had been his final answer.

Shortly after that incident, Joonmyeon was supposed to travel with his father for a short autumn holiday. But at the last minute, he changed his mind and said he’d rather stay at home. His father gave in after a lot of conviction that Joonmyeon would be able to take care of himself, for god’s sake he was fifteen.

During his first night alone, thankfully he had his window open when he heard Yixing playing the guitar.

Joonmyeon got up and stared out his window. Downstairs Yixing was sitting on a bench in the garden, near the rose field. The lamp-post shone his delicate frame while he played every chord on the instrument. And he sang with a soft voice as a sad melody accompanied him.

Joonmyeon thought he looked breathtaking. He had never seen him this way before. Envisions of what it would be like to sit beside him, hold his hand and lean forward to kiss his lips were created in his mind.

He felt his cheek turn red, his heart’s rapid and erratic beats, a whirlpool of butterflies that went loose in his stomach.

A sudden realization him. His enormous enthusiasm whenever he saw Yixing. The happiness he felt with him. The way he loved his laugh and wanted to be sure to make him laugh. The slight jealousy whenever someone would be a bit too friendly with him. The pain and misery he had felt when they had drifted apart. And now the way he wanted to be in his embrace. It all made sense to him now.

Joonmyeon was in love with Yixing. He truly, truly loved him.