“It was fascination. I know. And it might have ended. Right then, at the start. Just a passing glance. Just a brief romance. And I might have gone. On my way. Empty hearted.” —Fascination by Nat King Cole

 

When summer came to department Neap, the southern part of Peyisivil, time slowed down. It appeared as if it would never begin again, which led some to complain that it had stopped altogether. The sky became an ocean of brilliant pastel blue, coated over with fluffy white clouds, which swirled into all different shapes—it demanded admiration. When the evening approached, the light blue would turn a deep rich, navy blue-gray mixed with streaks of crimson red and other shades that were different enough to tantalize. It was a marveling sight.

 

Department Neap was beautiful.

 

Peyisivil, the second largest country at the size of 1.269 million mi², was a compacted and temperate state. The literal translation of the country’s name was ‘The Civilized Country.’ Neap was one of the country’s sixty departments, and the third largest. Due to the size of the country, and its desirable location, citizens are able to produce all of their food and other materials that are needed for survival and pleasure. This allotted them the power to close all of their borders, becoming an isolated nation by choice.

 

With all its beauty, Neap summers brought with it the wrath of a heat so intense one wanted to jump into a pool filled with ice cube. Though that was an impossibility, the hope to turn a corner and find such a lustful tub remained in all.

 

Stepping in the sweltering summer afternoon, Kim Jaejoong carded his fingers through his silky, pitch black hair. Tilting his head back, he screwed his eyes shut and inhaled the humid air, letting the sun rays his red cheeks and balmy forehead.

 

“We’re already in hell,” a teenage male complained to no one in particular, tugging his shirt, which was damp with sweat, over his head and side-stepped eighteen-year-old, music major, Jaejoong.

 

“Tell me about it,” Jaejoong groaned, even though the comment had not been addressed at him.

 

The whining teen spotted Jaejoong and nodded with a light, friendly grin, exchanging not a word with him. He continued on his mission: trotting toward the water fountain, where a short queue was forming.

 

The fussing teen was from the marching band, Jaejoong could tell from the color of the crumpled shirt in his hand. The school departments were separated by shirt colors and designs. The choral department, which Jaejoong was a member of, shirt was ice blue, representing tranquility, and the crystallization of the singers’ vocals.

 

Jaejoong’s wet hair stick to the side of his flushed cheeks, his shirt drenched with perspiration. the hem of the material, he gripped it to disrobe.

 

It was too damned hot!

 

As a member of the choral and vocal department, Jaejoong spent his days inside the school building, where they practiced. However, even with the air conditioner cranked up to the maximum, the heat could not be contained. It felt like hell. Everyday.

 

The water fountain was long with six faucets in a row. Three students stood in front of individually opened nozzles, wetting their hair, face, chest, all the while making an effort to drink the refreshing water and socialized. It was almost laughable.

 

“Jaejoong! Hey!” A classmate, Oh Heejun, who was like a tall, giant puppy, straightened his sinewy frame, water dripping from his wet hair and face and down the slope of his tan neck and into his equally as tanned chest, to frantically wave at a grumpy Jaejoong.

 

Jaejoong lifted the corner of his lips in a greeting smile and sluggishly waved back.

 

The sound of the gushing water was alluring, tempting the hot male to positioned himself in front of the bubbler and reached out to twist open a spout. Jaejoong was glad he made it before a long line formed.

 

“How’s practice?” Heejun solicited.

 

The singer shoved his thumb up in his peer’s direction before he cupped his hand under the running water, it was cold, and splashed some on his face, getting it everywhere. It still was not enough. In fact, it awakened a hunger to get more water on his body.

 

He ducked his head under the rushing water, gripped the edge of the fountain and let out a grateful moan. He relished in the cooling sensation. He stepped back and flipped his head up. “So hot,” he whined.

 

Heejun smiled at him fondly, and nodded. “It is, right?”

 

“Feels like hell.” Jaejoong agreed.

 

“But, what can we do.” Heejun sighed. “It is the Fire Festival after all.”

 

The brooding teen nodded, wiping water from his eyes with the back of his hands. His friend was correct.

 

They all were working hard in preparation of the Fire Festival. The festival took place once every five summers. It lasted five days. The event was when the glorious history of their country, Peyisivil, was celebrated, and children’s summers were stolen from them by the state; they were the group that heavily provided the entertainment.

 

All the primary and secondary schools in the prefecture gathered at the large stadium-like center downtown for the festivities. The festival always ended with a grand speech, the Phoenix Speech, which was given by the charming elected supreme leader of the nation, Brother Lee. Where the speech is delivered was decided based on a rotation system. Fortunately, or unfortunately as Jaejoong’s peers had been complaining, it was department Neap’s time to host the event, after sixty years of waiting.

 

Therefore, the festival that summer was different because the supreme leader, his family, and the rest of his administration would be witnesses of the performances. Nothing like the previous years where their performances were televised rapidly across the country in bits and pieces. The hosting department took the majority of the screen time. They had never minded that their performances never got its due time in the limelight because then, they had had room to make mistakes. That was different that summer.

 

Their new position heightened the pressure that was placed on the students, especially the student leaders of the different departments, who got the brunt of the punishment for slow progress in perfecting the programs. The stakes were higher. Practice was harsher, longer, dawn to dusk, and much more grueling. The instructors gave less breaks and compliments.

 

Fortunately, the students joked, the “lucky” school to be selected for the final day of the festival, where the speech was given, had not been chosen yet. Due to the circumstances, they knew the possibility of their faculty being selected for the pleasure of receiving their ruling brothers and sisters was high. The high probability pushed the supervisors to laden the students with more tasks than the thirteen to nineteen year olds feared their tired bodies could handle.

 

Jaejoong asked his cute, giraffe-like younger classmate about his practice in a preoccupied manner. “How is practice coming along?” The water had most of his attention. Cupping his hand under the faucet, he filled it and dumped it on his head and continuously repeated the action.

 

“Hot. Tiring.”

 

Heejun was only three months younger than Jaejoong, but acted years younger. It was the thing that made the teen endearing. Jaejoong had a weakness for cute things: animal, people, objects, etc.. He just could not leave them alone.

 

“Tell me about it? Being inside doesn't make it better.” Jaejoong ran his fingers through his hair and let the droplets sashayed down his pale frame.

 

“At least you're inside.”

 

Heejun was a member of the marching band and a first order member of their school’s Youth Infantry (YI). That meant he did not only have to learn the marching band synchronized marches—which was as intricately beautiful as it was difficult and must be performed to perfection—but also the YI synchronized marches as part of the drill team. The marches told the history of their country's military expeditions—mainly the battles they've fought and won. As a first order member, Heejun would be at the very front during the performances, which put more pressure on him. Though every single participant was important in the overall look and effect, being in the front line held more weight.

 

It was mandatory for every single member of the student population to partake in the synchronized marches. Therefore, every last one of them joined the grueling practices, in addition to their own departments practice. It was hard work.

 

The sun was unrelenting that summer, but they all had their part to play, and that was what made their great civilization great, as declared by Brother Lee Woohon in his last Fire Festival speech. They worked together and didn’t let each other down. Coming together to complete the puzzle. Conformity and unity reigned supreme, the first dictum kids at the tender age of five were taught and chanted every time they would meet. And that was every day.

 

To be a member of the first-class order of the YI demanded dedication, hard work, and long grueling hours. It was a dedication of years with barely any breaks and constant conditioning. Most, if not all, of the members had future plans in joining the military the moment they graduated. Many of the YI members wanted to be promoted to first order, but few were recruited. The position was an honor, therefore, a position that was worth all the tribulations.

 

Jaejoong’s damp shirt was sticking to his skin. It was a nice sensation. But he needed water on his skin. Direct contact. He slipped his moisture-laden shirt off.

 

Classmates came and departed from the faucets, allowing others to take their place. Summer critters buzzed in their ear as a hot gust of wind rustled through the leaves of the numerous of trees surrounding them—their school faced a wood—and smacked them on the face.

 

Heejun began telling Jaejoong a story that was more of a complaint than anything else. He was the rambling type, which was why he liked Jaejoong so much.

 

Jaejoong was always cornered by talkative people. It was something about his smooth, blank faces, resembling a porcelain mask, and his quiet nature. He had been told he gave off a patient air. Truthfully, he was more apathetic than anything else. He simply did not care. He did not interrupt and allowed people to talk, their words streaming in one ear and out the other.

 

His junior’s story somehow involved the heat, his training, the Fire Festival, and something else. The singer could care less but nodded every other pause. It seemed to make the male happy, and that’s all Jaejoong could hope for.

 

The boy was so into his story, swinging his arms wildly around, widening his eyes comically, that he missed when one of his friends and first order YI member sneaked behind him and landed a sharp slap on his back and shouted, “Got ya!”

 

The sound of hard weathered palm meeting drenched skin made Jaejoong winced, and it wasn't only him, Heejun yelped, and flipped around to face the culprit. “Jihun!” he screeched, agitated, rubbing his back in a soothing manner with one hand and pawed for the cackling male with the other.

 

Jihun dodged the whining male’s attack with ease, smiling.

 

Jaejoong watched on the sidelines as the two began bantering, before Jihun freed himself from a fuming Heejun. They were close friends. “I am sorry, okay.” He apologized. “Let me go get some water. I am dying from dehydration here.”

 

Heejun relented, but he still muttered under his breath, “Dickhead.”

 

Jihun laughed when he heard him and turned to wink at Jaejoong before he addressed his friend. “That is not nice. A brother should never say that about his brother.”

 

“You should not have hit me, brother.”

 

“I was playing.”

 

Heejun bristled and spat, his cherubic face crumbling in anger, turning red. “You are a . Where’s the lie?”

 

He looked funny, Jaejoong thought, covering his quivering lips with a fist and cleared his throat. Jihun sighed the corner of his lifted lips and chuckled in place of Jaejoong.

 

“Relaxed, bro,” he waved at his lobster red friend, and sidestepped the irate male, moving toward a free faucet. He twisted it open.

 

“Jaejoong,” he started in his booming voice, “What have you been eating?”

 

Uh-oh, the teen though, already steeling himself for what he knew his peer was to say. And he did not disappointed, that piece of . He was a .

 

“The same as you. Why?” He braced himself.

 

“It can’t be.” He winked at an inscrutable Jaejoong before he wet his face. “How can every time I see you, your beauty keeps on increasing. Tell me your secret, bro. The girls are running away from me. Maybe if I adopt your diet I can get a date, huh?” He laughed. It was booming and annoying.

 

It wasn’t a compliment, nor was it stated with malice. It was a fact. Jaejoong was good looking, but not in the manner Jihun was. He wasn’t manly. He was looked soft. Like a girl.

 

Heejun giggled against his better judgement. A shrewd look for Jaejoong made him cower and darted his eyes away.

 

Jaejoong wished he had not hid his laughter. Heejun didn’t seem to care about his feelings, why shouldn’t he return the courtesy.

 

He readily clarified, “I was laughing at Jihun. Of his ugly mug—the reason the girls are staying away.” Heejun fired at a cackling Jihun.

 

“I really do not think my diet can help you, Jihun.” Jaejoong smirked, letting Heejun off, cocking his head with a deadpan look.

 

“Aww. That . I want to be as beautiful as you.” He frames his face and shook his hands down his athletic physique.

 

“I am not beautiful!”

 

“You do not have to show humility.” He carelessly laughed, stepped back and twisted around to face his two peers. He saw no problem with his teasing topic.

 

“Wha—I am not! I am a man.” The vocal member wanted to pinch his nose at the annoyance crawling up his throat.

 

“I mean, I know you are a man,” Jihun quickly corrected. “But you are so—” he paused, tasting around for the correct word.

 

Heejun saw the murderous glint in Jaejoong’s pretty brown eyes.

 

Jaejoong’s heart slammed against his chest in anger

 

Every time Jihun saw him he would comment on his looks, as if he could not understand how a male could look as Jaejoong did.

 

In Peyisivil, where masculinity was equated with strength and being patriotic and a soldier, having dewy pale skin, soft shiny hair, foamy bister doe eyes, which were framed by long dark curly eyelashes, completed with a long willowy figure, did not aid in making him conform—appear ‘normal.’ Jaejoong simply looked delicate. Frail. Dainty. Pretty as a girl. In fact, most women had tanned skin, which was desirable, though the soft features still applied.

 

That wasn’t what a man was supposed to look like. Not what a man of the military should look like. Peyisivil was a military state. His looks made him feel as if he did not belong.

 

The male with the delicately drawn features glared at a pensive Jihun. He was actively trying to find the proper word to describe Jaejoong’s looks.

 

“Yes, yes. Can we move on now?” Jaejoong yapped.

 

The buzzing of cicadas singing and high—pressured running water filled the pretty teen’s ears, and shiny droplets formulated on his chin to soon reach their death by popping. The hot summer wind blew through the leaves of the trees once more, making them trembled and a faucet was shut off.

 

Jihun raked his wet fingers through his hair. His light brown eyes, which sparkled from the glow of the burning sun, landed on Jaejoong's damp figure, staring at Jaejoong’s blank face and troubled eyes. He saw Jaejoong’s barely restrained anger.

 

Jihun let out his booming laugh, though it lacked its usual boyish charms. It grated on Jaejoong’s nerves. He was an insensitive , for he knew Jaejoong hated when he talked about his looks. Nonetheless, he persisted with his unneeded friendly ‘teasing.’

 

His smiled creased with anxiety, Jihun knew what those dark bleak eyes meant. “Jaejoong, you know I am just joking, right?”

 

For the millionth time, Jaejoong wondered if he should go and report his behavior to Office of Academic Relationships. Bullying in any form or shape was not tolerated in anywhere in Peyisivil. Camaraderie was prioritized. But he wasn’t being bullied. Jihun didn’t do it to hurt Jaejoong. None of them did it.

 

He decided against it.

 

After an intense stare down, an awkward laugh slithered through Jaejoong’s throat. His gaze remained flat. “I know, Jihun. It is just you’re not funny.” He cocked an eyebrow and smugly added, “I am tired of faking laughs.”

 

Jaejoong did have a quick tongue, no matter how ‘fragile’ he looked, Jihun knew that; he kept on forgetting Jaejoong could give as good as he took.

 

“So, stop.”

 

Today would be the last time, the singer decided. Next time he would let go of his sanity and societal decorum and slug him. A fierce promise.

 

Jihun rapidly nodded, head swishing back and forth with vigor, and tried to placate Jaejoong. “Hey, you know I was just teasing you?” He repeated. A clammy, muscular arm landed around Jaejoong’s shoulders. It was too hot for this. Gross.

 

He made his disgust clear.

 

Jaejoong rolled his eyes again, and pushed the smelly male off him. They all smelt bad.

 

“If you know, dude, stop commenting on my looks already. We all know what I look like now. I do too. You’ve made sure to tell me every time we’ve come in contact.”

 

Jihun grinned in the disgusted male’s direction. Knowing he had unintentionally stepped in hot waters, he tried to appear charming. He failed.

 

The anger he was trying to disguise was rushing to the front line. Jaejoong was a soldier by nature.

 

“Don’t get angry, Jaejoong,” he pleaded in a cute voice. “You know I meant nothing hurtful by the observation. You are just so….” he tasted around for the word and looked at Heejun for help.

 

The muscle head didn’t know when to stop.

 

Heejun shot his arms up in defense and stated rapidly, “Water break is almost over. See you guys at lunch.” He saved his hind with a quick wave in their direction and dashed away without looking back.

 

Heejun knew not to joke around with Jaejoong on his looks.

 

“Hey!” Jihun screamed at Heejun’s disappearing back. He would have to soldier on alone.

 

Jaejoong shook his wet shirt, catching Jihun’s, who flinched a tiny step back, attention again. His reaction pleased Jaejoong. He was not violent, but Jihun awoken the animalistic part of him.

 

The blundering male felt the need to finish his thought. “What I mean is, you are….delicate? Fragile? Not beautiful...necessarily,” he muttered, casting his eyes on the ground, like a puppy being disciplined.

 

In other words, Jihun considered him weak.

 

He hadn’t made the situation better. In fact, he made it worse. The fairy like male grind his teeth, a muscle twitched in his cheek.

 

Hearing those adjectives used to describe him stung.

 

Jaejoong, his damp skin drying by the harsh glow of the sun, smiled and swallowed down all the inflammatory words he wanted to shout. He forced a lighthearted giggled.

 

He decided it was better to act nonchalant, as if Jihun’s words had not bother him,

than to make an even bigger deal out of his name calling than he already had with his biting remarks. If he showed his anger it would just let his ty classmate know his words aggravated him.

 

“I do not look delicate.” It came out harsher than intended. Another faux giggle.

 

Damned Jihun with his tan from constant outdoors training, brawny physique, with boulders for arms. him and everyone who dared thought he was not as patriotic as them simply because he looked ‘different.’

 

As a citizen of Peyisivil, Jaejoong was required to go for monthly training when he turned sixteen; it was a reduction from the weekly meets juveniles were required to attend.

 

The only thing Jaejoong missed about those daily meets were the weekend camping trips he would take every other month throughout his whole childhood, where they would train and learn survival skills in the wild. When he graduated from the Youth Club—tier one—he was the happiest. Not because he ended up being award ten badges he was still trying to figure how he qualified for. Two of them surprised him the most: one for leadership, and the other for patience.

 

Leadership. Him.

 

He had been happy because he could stop attending the meets.

 

The Youth club, though considered tier one, was split into three levels: the youngest kids, beginning at age five were in level one, with the second youngest children in level two, and the third level was where one would graduate at the age of sixteen. Tier two, also split in three levels, was the Youth Infantry, military schools, and the final destination, the military.

 

As someone who was not directed toward joining the military at sixteen, as most adults in the same track, he was required by the state to train once every month upon noticed. A failure to appear for training led to harsh consequences.

 

The happiness he had felt at the reduction felt misguided now. Maybe some of his ‘softness’ would have disappeared if he were to be out in the field with kids like Jihun and Heejun. He would be tan and more macular than he already was. He would have had been ‘normal.’

 

Jaejoong wrung his shirt at Jihun, making him squealed and jumped back. “I’ll show you how ‘delicate’ I am,” he shouted, he forced a smile, it was scary, showing its true nature. His statement was supposed to come across as a joke to hide his embarrassment and hurt at failing his country for not being in top shape. He was unsuccessful. Jihun looked sorry.

 

“Hey, are you guys playing? Better hurry up, water break is over in a minute,” someone shouted the reminder. His voice, low, warm, but commanding, rumbled over Jaejoong’s shoulders.

 

Jaejoong froze, his belly dipped. He knew who the voice belonged to. Yunho. Jung Yunho!

 

Jihun brightened up, waving at their school's newly elected president. The election was held at the end of the last school year. Yunho was also the school's Youth Infantry general. Yunho was a leader by nature.

 

“Sorry, okay?” Jihun looked back at the frozen Jaejoong, question with his eyes if he was forgiven.

 

He nodded, the only part he could move of his person being he had turned into stone and accepted his apology.

 

Jaejoong could not even turn around to look at Yunho, who was walking toward them.

 

He jumped when Yunho stopped next to him. He was so close that he could smell the sweat off him.

 

Now he would be reprimanded for playing around. Yunho was rumored to take his job seriously. They were specifically instructed to get water and come back, keeping socialization to a minimum.

 

He wanted to knock out Jihun, who was staring at Yunho with starstruck eyes.

 

But, could he really blame the annoying weasel? No. He also admired Yunho. Everyone did.

 

Jung Yunho, tall, smart, golden, and handsome was his hero. He had always admired the handsome eighteen year old since the first moment his eyes landed on him, coincidentally that had been the first day of secondary school. Yunho was everything Jaejoong wanted to be and was not.

 

Yunho always sported a smile every time his eyes landed on him, which was embarrassingly often, and he was genuinely happy. He was cheerful by nature. Yunho exemplified what a well brought up, indoctrinated, socially competent Peyisivil child was. The desired child.

 

The opaque haired male supposed his admiration for the good looking, friendly teen was why he never managed the courage to talk beyond the few impersonal words they’ve exchanged over the years. Jaejoong’s admiration was also rooted in jealousy, he would be truthful with himself there. But, he didn't want all of what Yunho had. He himself had friends he enjoyed being with, and was a happy child, too. But there was a quality about Yunho he wanted to obtain. The same quality that almost everyone that congregated around the seraphic male wanted.

 

Inhaling he slowly relaxed, coming to his sense. Placing his fist on the center of his palm, hands in front of his chest, Jaejoong bowed his head out of respect at the general. A proper military bow.

 

Yunho moved even closer. His scent growing stronger. He did not only smelt of sweat, but also grass, and something else. Clean skin, maybe? The scent was alluring. Jaejoong liked how earthy the fragrance was.

 

He wrinkled his nose at the internal declaration. Liking his scent was disgusting of him.

 

For someone who was standing at such a close proximity to a person he admired, the fact that he was calm and collected made Jaejoong proud. He concealed his jubilant emotions.

 

“Were you bothering singer Kim, Jihun?” Jaejoong heard the smile in handsome teen’s light tone.

 

He sneaked a look at the president to see the mirth jumping in his eyes and the large smile. He felt the grin that had overtaken his face when he saw the pure joy on Yunho’s face widening when he realized the president referred to him as ‘singer Kim.’ That was cute.

 

Jaejoong’s burgundy stained cheeks filled and lifted.

 

Jaejoong sneaked another look up at the taller, tanner, handsome, in other word, manly, boy. His look, that’s what Jaejoong most desired. Yunho was normal, beautifully so.

 

“I would never!” Jihun denied, shaking his head at his superior, reaching for Jaejoong’s arm with a carefree grin.

 

Jaejoong kept his arm at a safe distance. Grimacing at Jihun who did not seem to get the message that he was still angry.

 

He has the memory of a goldfish, Jaejoong thought incensed.

 

“I am leaving. See you around, Jaejoong.” Jihun smiled with respect at Yunho and threw a half—formed wave at a scowling Jaejoong.

 

He wished he could shout for Jihun to off and not talk to him next time they meet. But he was standing next to Yunho. The Jung Yunho who was looking at him through eyes that appeared bottomless, with iridescent irises, and curved-up heart shaped lips. He was definitely better looking up-close. What an abomination….. Jaejoong paused.

 

Inhaling, he realized what he, a male citizen of Peyisivil, was doing—had been doing since the president slid next to him. He was admiring a male as females are wont to. No, he corrected, he was admiring the aesthetic he aspired for.

 

“We were just joking around,” Jaejoong ventured, squeezing his quivering fists tighter.

 

He could not really explain his anxiety, except for, it was Jung Yunho.

 

Yunho laughed, it reverberated. It sounded nice. His laughter was deep and rich. He had a beautiful voice. What was with him and voices, Jaejoong pondered. Was it because he was a singer?

 

“Are you scared of me?” Yunho laughed again. “Even though I am the president, I am still your same aged peer. I might even be younger than you. Treat me accordingly.” An endearing grin followed.

 

“I am not!” Jaejoong quickly rebutted, sounding defensive.

 

He wasn’t scared. How preposterous. Yunho had an ego, he decided from their short encounter.

 

Nervous, yes, but scared? Never!

 

Yunho might be the general and school president, but that still didn’t mean Jaejoong was cowering in front of him because of his positions.

 

He was not as delicate and weak as he looked. Yunho’s comment rubbed him the wrong way. He was tired of being perceived as meek! His nervousness dissipated, replaced with chagrin.

 

“I will take my leave.” Giving him another proper military bow, Jaejoong made to turn away and never talk to Yunho again. It was better to keep a good image of him, he decided. The Yunho he looked up to was not conceited. Cockiness was not a trait commonly revered.

 

Yunho made a groaning sound in the back of his throat and ran, catching up to Jaejoong. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to act arrogant.”

 

He fell in steps with Jaejoong.

 

The tan male bit his bottom lip ruefully, scratching his nape, appearing his age.

 

The fact that the Jung Yunho looked remorsed at whatever he said that had angered Jaejoong made the male feel his anger dissolved. Maybe he was wrong about his quick assumption of Yunho’s character. Maybe he was who he always thought.

 

“It’s whatever.”

 

“No,” he shook his head, insisting, “I really didn’t mean it like that.”

 

Jaejoong stopped walking, looking at Yunho he laughed. “Really, it is okay.”

 

Yunho’s face lit up. Taking Jaejoong’s breath away. What a sight.

 

“Good. I am so glad you are not angry.” He reached and squeezed Jaejoong’s arm, only to quickly released him.

 

Yunho was touchy.

 

Where he touched burnt.

 

“Well then,” Jaejoong mumbled, looking Yunho square in the eyes. He noticed the slight difference in height between them. It fed his inferiority complex.

 

Yunho had an intense gaze. Jaejoong felt mesmerized and as if Yunho had er punched all the air from his lungs. His quivering returned. He refused to look away, however.

 

“I always wanted to talk to you.”

 

“Okay.” Awkward.

 

Yunho became aware of how he came off. “No! No.” He shook his head. Another puerile half grin, half smirk. “I...ah...I’ve wanted to compliment you.” Pause. He added, “That’s why I’ve alw—wanted to talk to you.”

 

“Compliment? Why?”

 

Yunho face morphed into that smile. “You were amazing at Brother’s Lee’s birthday celebration.”

 

He had sung at leader Lee’s birthday celebration, and the performance had been streamed to the whole nation. He had caught the leader’s attention and had been invited to sing because of the numerous national competition he had won, both as a solo act and as part of the school’s choral. Jaejoong was the prefecture and school’s pride.

 

That had been months ago. Why was Yunho bringing it up now?

 

Jaejoong blinked, taken aback, but quickly blushed. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “thank you.”

 

Yunho fixed a fond look on him. “You were amazing. Truly.” Another awkward pause. “You have won nationals and has made this school and all of us proud.”

 

Though he felt Yunho was just rambling now, his inside still warmed up at his kind words.

 

Yunho, who had held the gift the school had given him as a welcoming home and congratulatory present after last year’s national competition, had not have the opportunity to exchanged words with him. Only an incandescent smile had been given to him; a smile that Jaejoong found himself practicing at his mirror that night after the ceremony. The headmaster had handed the gift to Jaejoong.

 

“Thank you.”

 

They resumed walking.

 

“How was it to sing at Brother Lee’s birthday celebration? How was it to meet Leader Lee?” Yunho’s eyes shimmered at the mention of their supreme leader. Jaejoong could tell, see, how much he revered Leader Lee and had been dying to ask him about the whole experience.

 

“Nerve wracking.” And an experience he never wanted to duplicate.

 

It had been an honor for Jaejoong’s family, school, and department, but it had been nothing but torture for him. The long hours of practice and having to perform in front of so many high esteemed individuals, where any miniscule error turned into something critical, had been the worst moment of his life.

 

The sound of the bell clinking loudly in the distance informed them it was the culmination of their water break. A wedge was drawn between the tired and sweaty teenagers. Their awkward, but appreciated conversation was cut short.

 

Yunho beamed gorgeously at Jaejoong, making the teen feel awkward.

 

“I’ll see you at lunch.”

 

Jaejoong was taken back at his directness. He had said ‘at lunch’ over the impersonal ‘later.’ They did not really know each other to use such simple language.

 

“Aah, yeah. Later.” Jaejoong ran over the line that separated them as strangers. He would not be seeing Yunho at lunch.

 

Yunho nodded with a satisfied countenance.

 

Looking at Yunho in all of his tanned glory, Jaejoong wondered what it would feel like to be so perfect.

 

“Do not be late.” Yunho waved, flashed his pearly whites at him, and bolted toward the field where the other YI members were already getting in formation.

 

Lifting his eyebrows in surprise with a smile marring his lips, Jaejoong began jogging towards the school's entrance. That had been...interesting.

 

His short conversation with Yunho told him that he was as nice as rumored.

 

Jaejoong's summer began moving at that moment. It was as if everything was suddenly coated with a soft shade of yellow.

 

 

Writer’s Note: Chapters will not always be this long. Took me freaking forever to edit. Please enjoy!