White-collared boys stood shoulder to shoulder, their expressions unfaltering despite the sweltering heat of the summer day. From the fold of their trousers to the angle of their blazer lapels, not a single misplaced crinkle or crease could be observed; even the specks of dust in the air didn't dare settle on their tailored uniforms.

On the polished floor of the main hall tapped equally polished shoes, one parallel to every row of students, the sheen and cut of the black leather telling of an expensive foreign brand. As the owners of such shoes walked alongside the uniform ranks, no different in appearance from the other boys except for a badge pinned on their pockets, they scrutinised every detail of each individual they passed, a stern-faced countenance rivalling that of war-beaten generals.

Their badges bore the word 'Prefect', a title loathed by nearly all and respected by few.

By one row, the footsteps stopped, followed by a swish of fabric that cut through the apprehensive silence. "Unfold your sleeves this instant," ordered one prefect, holding the offending student's arm by his wrist.

"What are you going to do about it Kyungsoo?" he sneered, a rebellious glint to his eyes. "It's hot. Like hell am I going to unroll my sleeves."

Abruptly letting go of the boy, Kyungsoo drew closer, stiff-lipped and hardly in the mood for complaints. "Unless you want to run ten laps in this hot weather Baekhyun, I suggest you don't argue with me," he said, unravelling the sleeves in one swift pull. "And fix your hair. This is a school, not a circus."

With nothing more to say, Kyungsoo returned to his duty with an unchanged steely expression, while behind him, dozens of eyes stared at his back, their malice boring holes into his short stature. When he criticised, they judged tenfold.

It was no secret, both to the staff and the students, that amongst the disciplinary prefects, Do Kyungsoo had made an exceptional number of enemies, all of whom despised the boy for the same reason: his attitude.

While the school itself had been unabashed with their strictness and adherence to tradition, Kyungsoo was on a completely different level, his personality being a combination of everything stressed teenage boys with little to no freedom could possibly hate. A suffocating austerity being one example.

Once the morning inspection had been completed and the five-hundred-strong student body dismissed for breakfast, Kyungsoo joined the rest of the prefect team, each one visibly relieved that their laborious task was finally over.

"Good work!" said Junmyeon, the senior prefect, as he patted Kyungsoo's back with gusto. "Keep this up and everyone will hate you by the end of the year."

The other boys snickered, only to be immediately silenced by Kyungsoo's unimpressed glare, his heart-shaped lips pressed into a line. Had he actually known their names, he would've perhaps cared more.

"Including you?" Kyungsoo asked, owlish eyes staring up at his superior.

Taken aback, Junmyeon quickly reassured him, "No! Not at all!"

"How disappointing," Kyungsoo replied impassively, shaking his head.

Leaving behind a mildly flustered Junmyeon, he skirted around the other prefects, who were quick to avoid further eye contact. It was less out of fear, and more out of an unspoken agreement that they would stay out of each other's way.

As Kyungsoo crossed the threshold from the hall to the main corridor, he adjusted his badge out of habit, ensuring that it was perpendicular to the seam of his pocket. In the distance, the murmur of ravenous teenagers echoed, leaving him to grimace at the thought of the disorder and mayhem. Kyungsoo reluctantly made his way to the dining hall, knowing that Baekhyun and his cohorts would have a few choice comments for him. Not that they would ever say it to his face.

In the dining hall, rows of long wooden tables were arranged across the floor, each one with an array of fruits, cereals and various preserves atop their lacquered surfaces. Upon noticing that the supply of apricot jam was sorely lacking, Kyungsoo inwardly groaned, none too pleased with the idea of having to negotiate yet again for his share. Prefect privileges could only go so far.

By the back wall, beside a partially curtained window, sat Kyungsoo's long time - some might dare say only - friend, Jongdae, who waved at him with uninhibited enthusiasm. With the trajectory of the light rays, Jongdae's cheekbones were sharper than usual, as Kyungsoo noticed, reminding him of the ridiculous rumour that spread throughout the school during year nine.

While the details were hazy, it had basically involved fifty two perfectly sliced tangerines, 'razor implants' on Jongdae's skull and a mad scientist, none of which had been taken seriously except by the moronic few. Those moronic few also happened to be the loudest, much to the chagrin of virtually everyone who couldn't care less.

"Morning," Jongdae said, lips curled into a smile. "Baekhyun's been ranting about you again. Said he'll, and I quote, 'Break his arms 'til he can't row anymore.'"

"I'm practically quaking in my boots," Kyungsoo deadpanned, taking a seat opposite Jongdae. "He's all talk and no action. Probably still jealous that I got accepted into the rowing club and he didn't."

"That and he can't row for anyway," Jongdae scoffed, side-eyeing the boy in question, who was guffawing in his seat surrounded by a circle of boys.

"Language," Kyungsoo tutted, giving him a disapproving look, to which Jongdae merely laughed. From underneath the table, the latter produced a jar of apricot jam, still unopened and b with the sweet orange goodness that Kyungsoo so dearly cherished. "…Okay, I'll let you off with a warning."

"You better or else I'm leaving your moody here," Jongdae said, smirking as the jar was hastily popped open by Kyungsoo, who began to salivate at the sight of the untouched surface. "Thank Professor Zhang for that. Seriously, your tutor's the best. Mine hardly even shows up for tutor period!"

"Neither do you, " Kyungsoo said after swallowing a mouthful of toast, taking care to wipe the crumbs on the corners of his mouth. While the pair talked over cereal and tea, the first bell eventually chimed, it's shrill ring resounding throughout the dining hall to signify the start of morning break.

In a matter of minutes, the entire school had spilled out onto the fields and courtyards, practically anywhere to escape the stuffy atmosphere of the aged buildings. As per usual, Kyungsoo and Jongdae spent their time in the west wing, wherein an arcade bordered a relatively large yard on the periphery of a fenced-off woodland.

The pair ambled down the walkway, voices echoing in the emptiness around them. Without warning, Jongdae stopped in his tracks before abruptly turning his head to the playing field in the distance.

"Oh no," He muttered, face paled in fear. "Minseok's going to kill me."

Looking over Jongdae's shoulder, Kyungsoo could make out the navy blue kit of the football team, who were standing around as if they were waiting for the game to start. "You were supposed to play today, weren't you?" he asked, to which Jongdae replied with a dispirited sigh. "Just go Jongdae, he'll understand."

"But-"

"Go."

As Jongdae sprinted down the hill leading to the field, throwing an apologetic glance at his friend, Kyungsoo stood in the middle of the walkway, through which a warm breeze meandered. It slipped past his ear, bringing with it a silent rush of air and the flutter of his blazer.

Before continuing on his solitary way, the wind changed direction, returning the breeze to Kyungsoo. This time, it brought with it a melodious, high-pitched ring. A cat's bell.

Situated in the centre of the yard was a mature alder tree, and on the lowest, thickest branch perched a cat with a red ribbon tied around its neck. Silver-furred and sleek in appearance, its feline eyes watched Kyungsoo silently, the golden bell it wore glinting in the sunlight.

Frowning, Kyungsoo approached the animal. Pets on school grounds was a violation of the rules, no matter how adorable they were.

"Come here," Kyungsoo said tersely, reaching up with the expectation that the cat would leap into his arms. Instead, it hissed and jumped off the branch, choosing to race towards the fence around the neighbouring woodland rather than reciprocating Kyungsoo's 'affections'. Not being one to give up so easily, the prefect chased after the cat, whose lithe body seemed to disappear into the darkness of the woods.

To his surprise, the fence gate was ajar, its chains that usually kept it locked loose and coiled on the floor. Realising that it was no longer a matter of cats, but trespassers and cats, Kyungsoo delved into the woodland, his irritation slowly ticking over. While dealing with animals wasn't his forte, sniffing out deviants most certainly was.

Following the trail of paw prints, Kyungsoo soon found himself at a river bank, the shallow water lazily rolling over the rocks. In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a cluster of guelder roses, their rings of white flowers reminding Kyungsoo of his mother's garden. The boy furrowed his eyebrows. He hadn't thought about her for a while.

Strewn over the shrub was a tie, on the large blade of which was the emblem of the school. Its bright red colour was a symbol of the Hawthorn house and perfectly represented Kyungsoo's current state: livid.

He picked it up, wondering how anyone could be so careless. Blatant disrespect of one's uniform was arguably the worst offence any student of Morborough Court could commit, and it seemed that that very student had already broken two other rules.

"Um, excuse me?" From behind him, a voice, deep and resonating, broke the lethargic silence of the woodland. "Could I have my tie back please?"

Though admittedly shocked by the sound, Kyungsoo immediately spun around with his finger pointed at the owner of the voice, only to end up prodding his chest after having completely misjudged the height difference between them.

With a snort of laughter, the tie-less boy slipped his finger underneath Kyungsoo's, tilting it upwards. "My eyes are up here," he said, grinning. "And wow, you're a prefect!"

"Yes, and you are?" Kyungsoo said, pulling his hand away before ing the tie towards the boy.

"Park Chanyeol, twelfth year, Hawthorn dorm and…err…recently enrolled. I think that's about it," he answered, rocking on the balls of his feet while he tied his tie. Piercing the tree canopy above their heads, thin rays of sunlight threaded through Chanyeol's hair, each individual strand taking on a silvery colour as his head moved slightly. Perhaps it was the trick of the light or delirium induced by the soaring temperatures, but Kyungsoo couldn't quite comprehend what he was seeing. "What's your name?"

"Do Kyungsoo and- let me do that," Kyungsoo sighed, fixing Chanyeol's lopsided attempt of a necktie. "Care to explain why you're in the middle of the woods, trespassing mind you?"

"I was on my way here and then I got lost. That's it, end of story," Chanyeol said, staring down at the pair of hands at his neck. After tightening the knot, Kyungsoo looked up, noting how even the tips of Chanyeol's eyelashes were partially white. Above the tree canopy, a passing cloud briefly obscured the sun, casting a shadow over the woodland floor. In the darkness, absent of the dancing light, Kyungsoo could see nothing but strands of jet black hair, any and all traces of silver gone.

"Lost…" he said, bewildered by both Chanyeol's appearance and his explanation. Beside his foot, a stitched leather suitcase stood, the bottom of which was caked with dirt. "That can't be right."

"My parents dropped me off a mile or so away from here. I took a wrong turn, wandered into the woods and kept wandering," Chanyeol said with a shrug, long bony fingers tracing the bark of the tree behind him.

Although sceptical of his reasoning, Kyungsoo momentarily went along with it, having been far too concerned with the searing heat prickling at the skin beneath his starched collar. "You…nevermind. Let's get you out of here and then you can explain yourself properly."

Once they reached the yard, Kyungsoo eyed the chains again as he exited the gate, turning his attention to Chanyeol afterwards with an incredulous expression. The lanky boy had set his suitcase down on the grass, stretching his limbs in different directions in what seemed to be his attempt at undoing a knot in his back; it didn't quite work out, leading him to double over in pain when a cramp in his side suddenly formed.

Dumbfounded by Chanyeol's stupidity, Kyungsoo chose to look back at the gate. It was locked with the chains neatly wrapped around the bars, like they hadn't been touched at all. Chalking it up to midsummer madness, Kyungsoo dismissed it as a brief lapse in his memory; either that or his sanity was in danger.

"Hey Kyungsoo, do you believe in magic?"

It was an unexpected question, but Kyungsoo was left more displeased than surprised. "Not since I was ten," he said, drawing closer to the arcade, beyond which resounded the shouts of teenagers in a lively football game.

"Why did you stop believing?" Chanyeol asked, lumbering after Kyungsoo with the handle of his exceptionally heavy suitcase gripped between both hands. Upon noticing his struggle, Kyungsoo stepped back and took the luggage from the exhausted boy, effortlessly carrying it in one hand as if it was a grocery bag. Years of rowing had not only built up character but also a fair amount of upper body strength.

"Like everybody else, I grew up," Kyungsoo replied brusquely as he walked down the passageway leading to the school building. "If you still believe in magic, then it's best that you do the same."

"What if I don't want to?" Chanyeol said, bouncing on his feet by Kyungsoo's side with a mischievous grin.

At his words, Kyungsoo halted at the doorway to the west wing. "You're going to have a hard time here if you don't," he said, head tilted towards the overly excited student. Where Chanyeol's eyes seemed to overflow with an overt happiness Kyungsoo had seldom seen in anyone before, his were cold - hardened by experience. "Hurry up, lessons start in ten minutes and I need to get you to your dorm."

Hawthorn dorm, much like the dorms for the other two houses, was located in the eastern sector of the school grounds, partially covered by uncontained woodland. Since sprinting in the corridors was forbidden, a rule that the prefects made sure to enforce, the pair arrived at the dorm after speed-walking through the main building, and in Kyungsoo's case, with one eye permanently fixed on his pocket watch.

Once at the doorway, Kyungsoo dropped the suitcase beside Chanyeol's feet, the taller boy's face flushed from the sudden burst of activity. "The housemaster's inside, his name is Professor Zhang. I need to go to lessons, see you around," he said briskly before hastily making his way down the steps, adjusting his crooked vest as he went.

"Thanks Kyungsoo!" Chanyeol called out after him, his smile unwavering despite being horribly out of breath. "Keep your window open tonight, it's going to be hot!"

Too preoccupied to decipher the boy's bizarre advice, Kyungsoo waved him off dismissively. Amidst the chirping of the birds, the second bell chimed, to the sound of which he quickened his pace, not wanting to tarnish his perfect record.

---

Silently seated at their desks, thirty twelfth year boys dutifully made notes as they listened intently to their English teacher, the sound of pen scrawling on paper accompanying her lecture. Unlike in the other classrooms, the air was thick with the scent of cologne, the reasons for which were fairly obvious. Beside Kyungsoo, his desk partner was clearly gawking, his pen on the verge of slipping from his fingers.

"She's married," Kyungsoo said under his breath, scowling at the boy. When there was no response except for a half-hearted grunt, he whacked him upside the head. "As in, stop ogling and do some bloody work."

"Kyungsoo? What's the matter?" The English teacher asked concernedly, setting down her chalk stick.

With a hand on his classmate's neck, Kyungsoo answered bluntly, "Junwoo was drooling over you."

"Y-you ," he spluttered, cheeks coloured red from the embarrassment. After abruptly rising to his feet, he stormed out of the classroom, "You're an absolute Kyungsoo!" being his final words before slamming the door shut behind him.

Across from the prefect, Jongdae slumped in his seat, shaking his head in disbelief as the other boys whispered amongst themselves. "Was it something I said?" Kyungsoo remarked, resting his chin on the palm of his hand apathetically. "I don't know why you're all staring. Get back to work."

For the rest of the lesson, the female teacher nervously eyed her students, who kept their heads down in shame. The atmosphere had grown tense, with the scornful glares aimed at Kyungsoo being more heated than the scorching midday sun. Upon noticing the woman's worried looks, Kyungsoo couldn't help but feel guilty.

As the bells chimed the lunch hour, the boys quickly packed up their books once dismissed, the rumbling of their stomachs drowned out by their hurried exit from the classroom.

Before Kyungsoo could leave, a certain someone shuffled onto his desk, rattling the wood. "Baekhyun, get off my desk," he said, sneering at the sight of his face.

"How 'bout no?" Baekhyun said, crossing his legs for good measure. "Congrats on making the rowing team by the way. We'd throw a celebration party for you but, unfortunately, no one wants to attend."

Ignoring Baekhyun's comments, Kyungsoo slung his satchel over his shoulder, choosing to avoid any further conversation with the boy in the knowledge that they never ended well. By the doorway, Jongdae stood rigidly, his hands curling into fists when Baekhyun waved at him, a mocking smile on his lips.

"Let's go Jongdae," Kyungsoo said, skirting around his visibly irritated friend. "Oh and Baekhyun, your hairstyle is still atrocious, please change it immediately. The governors are visiting today and I don't want them to be offended."

While Baekhyun childishly pulled faces behind their backs, the two boys made their way to the dining hall, the promise of apple crumble being a saving grace for their otherwise uneventful day. Along the main corridor, various portraits of famous alumni and the occasional piece of artwork decorated the walls, the latter of which had originated primarily from the east.

One such portrait belonged to Professor Zhang's great-grandfather, the founder of Morborough Court. Located deep in the Kentish countryside, the school was host to a relatively large Asian population, most of whom were second or third generation immigrants with their parents being former students. As Kyungsoo scanned the endless line of oil paintings, he came across a familiar face.

"I know I always say this, but you look exactly like your mother," Jongdae said, glancing at the portrait on the adjacent wall.

Gripping the strap of his bag tighter, Kyungsoo bit the inside of his cheek, finding no resemblance in the warmth of her expression to himself. "Well she was my mother Jongdae."

"Is," Jongdae corrected him, to which Kyungsoo frowned, an argument on his lips that he didn't want to voice. "Don't make a face like that, you're ruining my appetite."

The pair continued on their way, tugging at their collars in an effort to air out the accumulating body heat, though Kyungsoo remained vehement about keeping them prim and proper. As expected, the dining hall was packed to the rafters, leaving the two boys with very little leg room and several bruises from starving sharp-elbowed year seven's. One icy glare from Kyungsoo and they withered away, slinking back into the crowd out of fear.

After buying lunch, they sat in their usual spot on the back table, avoiding most of the hustle and bustle of the hall.

"Children these days don't know respect," Kyungsoo scoffed, slicing his steak with a certain malice to his movements. "I forgot to ask, how did the game go?"

"We lost against Blackthorn, three-nil," Jongdae said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck in irritation. "But Minseok was pretty chill about me being late, so there's that."

Around Jongdae's neck, the vibrant red tie of Hawthorn was neatly tied, in contrast to the rich orange of Kyungsoo's, representing the Sallowthorn house. Although nobody knew exactly why the houses were named after plants, some had attributed it to the founder's fascination with botany, a science which even Kyungsoo's mother had been interested in.

"That reminds me, there's a new kid in your dorm. His name is Chanyeol and-" Kyungsoo added, pursing his lips at the thought of their odd discussion. "-and he believes in magic."

"Is he twelve or something? You can't blame him for having an overactive imagination," Jongdae said, absentmindedly prodding at his roast potatoes, earning a disapproving look from Kyungsoo in turn.

"Sadly no. He's seventeen, our year," Kyungsoo said, to which Jongdae cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "Take care of him. He seems like the type to be easily bullied. Not to mention he's in the same house as Baekhyun of all people, there's bound to be some tears later."

Snorting with laughter, Jongdae replied with a smile. "Chanyeol's a seventeen year old guy, not a nine year old girl. I'm sure that his precious heart won't be broken so quickly by a bit of light teasing."

After Kyungsoo downed a glass of ice water, his throat parched from the unbearable heat of the dining hall, Jongdae jutted out his bottom lip in thought, "Why are you so worried?"

"I'm not," Kyungsoo denied without missing a beat, drying his lips with a napkin as was proper etiquette. "I'm just concerned that someone could go through their whole life believing in something so…absurd."

"Right, whatever helps you sleep at night," Jongdae said, the last of the apple crumble from his spoon.

---

When the final bell rang, the day pupils left their boarding counterparts for home, including Kyungsoo, thankful that the temperatures had fallen considerably, allowing for the cool evening air to replace the stifling humidity.

Kyungsoo's route back to his house was well-travelled, though mostly unoccupied during the late afternoon, leaving him with five minutes of peace and quiet. As he trudged down the gentle slope of the quiet road, the chiming of a cat's bell rang around him again.

Looking up at the wall beside him, Kyungsoo noticed the same silver-furred cat plodding across the mossy coping, its eyes fixed on him. "Are you going to run away this time as well?" he asked with an outstretched hand, his finger grazing against the cat's chin. Like he expected, it hopped off the wall and onto the side opposite Kyungsoo, minus the hostile hissing.

Though dejected by the cat's refusal to love him, Kyungsoo continued on his way and did his best to ignore the ringing of its bell in the distance.

Peeking over the clusters of small trees, two chimney tops and a terracotta roof could be seen, the red brick walls underneath only barely in Kyungsoo's line of sight. The house belonged to his aunt and uncle, both of whom were well-known maths tutors often hired by parents of London-based private school students, and as a result, they were rarely around.

When he opened the door, a silence greeted him, one that was as familiar as the back of his hand. From the kitchen, the smell of kimchi and fish stew wafted, leaving Kyungsoo mildly surprised; his aunt would only ever make Korean food on special occasions due to her hectic schedule, yet there was nothing special about that day.

"Ah Kyungsoo, you're back." His aunt's voice jolted him back to reality. In her hands were several herbs, presumably picked from the back garden. "Go on and start eating, your uncle and I will join you in a minute."

While she washed the herbs at the sink, Kyungsoo quietly ate his food, fumbling with his chopsticks as he tried to use them. It had been a while since he'd eaten with anything else other than a knife and fork, leading to various clumsy attempts at grabbing his food.

After a few minutes, his aunt and uncle sat at the table, each far more at ease with their utensils than Kyungsoo.

"Kyungsoo, your aunt and I are going to stay in Korea for a few months. We'll be selling the house and when we come back, we're moving to London permanently," his uncle said, a sympathetic tone to his voice. "You'll need to move into the dorms in the meantime-"

With those words, the boy's body stiffened, his throat tightening like it was a conditioned reflex.

"-And we know that that might be difficult for you, so if you want, we can find you a small flat maybe. We'll be sending you money, so you can focus on your studies-" his aunt quickly interjected, placing a consolatory hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. It was warm, though it did little to comfort him.

"It's fine. I don't mind living in the dorms," Kyungsoo said, plastering on a smile as he set down his chopsticks. "It's all in the past now. I can cope with it."

Eyebrows knitted in worry, his uncle asked with genuine concern, "Are you sure?"

"Yep, don't you worry about me," Kyungsoo reassured him, trying to widen his smile until his cheeks began to hurt. "And have a safe trip."

With nothing left to discuss and the couple rid of their guilt, Kyungsoo made his way to his room, his shoulders feeling heavier than usual. He didn't want to be a burden.

Following Chanyeol's advice, Kyungsoo opened his window, letting in the night air. High up in the sky, the full moon shone, its light roaming across the clouds and into Kyungsoo's room, where it reflected off of the various objects displayed on the numerous shelves lining his walls. Most of them were accolades attained from his many rowing victories, whilst a few were the odd picture frame or trinket.

On his bedside table, a picture of him and his uncle during their fishing trip to the Lake District was framed, reminding Kyungsoo of his first ever catch. Both of them grew busier with age, but the fond memories were still there.

Amongst the various photos, however, none of them included his parents. Not a single fragment of them remained, not even in Kyungsoo's thoughts.

Knackered by the summer heat, Kyungsoo flopped onto his bed, the fluttering of his curtains lulling him to sleep.

Thud        

Before he could slip away into his dreams, Kyungsoo's eyes snapped open at the sudden sound, momentarily dazed from the exhaustion. In the corner of his eye, precariously balanced on his window sill, was the crouching figure of a familiar boy; strapped around his neck was a red ribbon, on which a golden bell jingled.

"Hello! Thanks for keeping your window open!" he said cheerfully, the same voice, deep and resonating, cutting through the quiet.

It was Chanyeol. With a silver-furred cat's tail.