“What is this I'm feelin'. I just can't explain. When you're near. I'm just not the same. I'm tryin' to hide it. Try not to show it. It's crazy. How could it be.”—I've Fallen For You by Toni Gonzaga Lyrics
 

It was refurbishing day and Jaejoong and Yunho were placed in the same group.

Their job was to renovate the bottom of the left school wall with a layer of fresh paint.

They had have to clean and prepare the school with more intensity and caution than they usually would. Their school may very well be on every single brother and sister’s television in two months time, and they must not disrespect the nation, their department and school by not being presentable. Or so their instructors yelled at them that very morning as they went over the day’s task.

To live up to one of Peyisivil’s motto ‘hard work is the creator of civilization and greatness,’ children were conditioned since birth to take pride in their hardwork, sovereignty, to respect, love, and fear their country. Part of the operant conditioning was that school aged children were made to clean their school—inside and outside. They did the miniscule, easy tasks and the substantial, difficult tasks; in the end it taught them that they could do any and everything, from the difficult to the easy.

‘What they want they must preserve,’ another motto their professors screamed at them when they handed in their abused, teared workbooks for grading, and when students on cleaning duty complained. They must love their school, therefore, they must want to preserved it.

The real motto of Peyisivil, among the millions citizens learnt growing up, was want-not-waste-not. The line was found in their long national anthem.

Regardless of all those pretty words, all the students hated the hard work. However, they would never voice their dissatisfactions without regarding the complaints as simple childish play, their way of venting over their stolen summer. They feared the repercussion such words would bring if they were being serious, loved their great country too much to not want to celebrate its history, and most importantly wanted to be an upstanding citizen.

They didn't know how to criticize Peyisivil.

Plus, why would they? There were no other country on this earth that could compare to their great civilization. The name of the country was, after all, 'Civilized State.'

Focusing on his task, Jaejoong listened to Yunho rattled on as usual with their classmates; Yunho was smiling, joking, and washing Jaejoong down in his rich, thick laughter.

It felt as if the sunny general was on talking terms with everyone that attended their school. Which was a nice feat, but still interesting. Could someone be so...nice and loved by everyone, as Yunho appeared to be?

Jaejoong loved being around him. Around Yunho, Jaejoong always felt happy, as if he could shared the teen’s happiness.

Being in Yunho’s presence made Jaejoong want to go up to his classmates and talk to them instead of staying in his usual corner and waiting for others to come to him first. Yunho made him want to be more like him; more extroverted; more sociable; more friendly.

“My Poppi makes the best tea in the world.”

Someone made a disgusted sound.

Yunho chuckled at the reaction. “It’s good,” he assured.

“I hate tea. It is just sweetened hot water,” Heejun, the male who had made the sound at the back of his throat, insisted.

Jaejoong kind of agreed with him.

Yunho shook his head, paint dipped brush in hand. “Not my Poppi’s tea.”

He lifted his hand, arm muscles taut, swiping the brush in a up motion on the wall.

Jaejoong found himself silently adoring Yunho with his eyes again. He had been doing that a lot lately. He could not get enough looking at him.

The whiny teen shook his head. “My mind cannot be changed.”

Yunho grinned. “It would if you had Poppi's tea.”

“No thanks.” Heejun promptly turned an offer that was never suggested down.

“No.” Yunho placed his hand on his waist. “You must have his tea. I invite you to come over and have some.”

“I am good. Really.”

“Nope, Heejun, you cannot say no.” He employed his general voice.

“Why not?” the boy complained, sounding like a petulant child.

“How can you change your mind if you refused to try some?” Yunho asked, arching an eyebrow, going back to his task. “Sungyeol,” Yunho called out to the distracted teen who was animatedly talking a mile a second at Changmin who continuously rolled his eyes.

He did not hear Yunho. Changmin said his name and drew his attention to Yunho.

Sungyeol flipped his head in Yunho’s direction and impatiently nodded, eyes quizzical. “What?”

“You’ve had my Poppi’s tea, right?” Nod. “It’s good, right?” Another nod, and he rapidly returned to looking at Changmin, picking up where he left off.

“Sungyeol!” Yunho snapped.

“What!” he bit, looking back at Yunho, irritated.

“Put some passion in it.”

“Okay.” The talkative teen rolled his eyes. “I love your Poppi’s tea. It’s better than normal tea.” He paused and rested his gaze on Heejun. “It’s good.” He sounded genuine. He didn’t wait for Yunho’s cue but quickly turned to Changmin—the tired, and slightly aggravated male looked done with Sungyeol, but he patiently listened to him ramble on.

Jaejoong could tell that Changmin liked his friend regardless of the death look he was giving him at that moment.

Yunho wondered what they were talking about. Whatever it was, it got Sungyeol riled up and Changmin tired with life and uninterested.

“Thank you, Sungyeol. Now, Heejun?” the general confidently smirked.

Heejun sighed. “Okay. I guess so,” he groaned, placating Yunho. He knew he would not be able to win.

Pleased, Yunho patted Heejun’s with his foot, making his classmates laugh. “It’ll be good. Plus, my mom makes the best pastries.”

Heejun eyes lit. He flashed the older male his puppy like grin and nodded. “Okay. For pastries I can come.”

Yunho tilted his head back and loudly cackled. “And tea, too. No pasties without tea.”

“Okay, okay.” Heejun huffed, rolling his luminous dark eyes. It was obvious from his jovial demeanor that his displeasure was now an act.

Spinning his head in Jaejoong’s direction, his ever widening smile still in place, Yunho was startled; he was surprised by the intensity of Jaejoong’s gaze.

The light skinned young man quickly looked away, ashamed. His pale cheeks darkened in shade, making his embarrassment obvious.

Darn it!

Yunho laughed, shaking the heavy feeling off.

Jaejoong snapped his head up when he heard the tinkling sound coming from the teen’s throat. “What?” he blustered, glaring at his beaming friend, gripping his paintbrush tighter.

Jaejoong made his friend laugh harder.

Yunho’s beauty intensified when he smiled, which he did so often that Jaejoong hardly knew where to look.

Yunho smiled fondly over at him, his upturned eyes squinting cutely. It sent the inky haired male, who was slightly grumpy over being assigned this task, into cardiac arrest. Jaejoong didn’t take well to the outside, given that he roasted under the sun.

It was as if Yunho was radiating heat. He felt hot just by being in his presence.

He was like the sun, too bright to look at without eye protection, but irresistible and needed.

What was wrong with him, Jaejoong wondered for the nth time? He had never felt like this way toward another. Especially a male—a friend.

This jumpy, uncertain feeling made him feel unwell. He didn’t like it.

“You should come too. You seem like someone that would like Poppi's tea.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, but inside he was rolling in a ball of excitement. Yunho took the time to invite him with that look. How could he say no?

“Okay.” Jaejoong’s tone was bland, and he was grateful. It belied his jubilation.Jaejoong frowned, “Why do you think I would like his tea?”

Yunho chuckled. “You seem like one that do not think tea is simply sweetened hot water.” He playfully glared at heejun who shrugged, and looked back at Jaejoong. “You seem like someone Poppi would like.”

He didn’t know what Yunho meant by that. What did he think of him? Did he find him boring? Old people did not like young people’s energy. The type of energy Yunho exuded. The energy he lacked.

He wouldn’t lie, he did go through life slowly, and came of as being apathetic, unbothered, and done with the world. He was simply reserved. Guarded.

Though he wasn’t as bright and nice as Yunho, he did and could get passionate about things, however.

Did Yunho think him dull?

A sharp pain stabbed him.

Why did he care what Yunho thought of him?

Jaejoong intensely wanted to know what his friend’s Poppi was like for him to suggest he would like him.

“Really?”

Yunho did not detect the uncertain hurt in Jaejoong’s voice.

“Yep.” Yunho smiled, before his eyes formed slits, leaned toward Jaejoong and he said, “Put some passion in that expression of yours.”

Pain sliced him.

He thought him tepid.

!

Jaejoong rapidly blinked, taken aback.

Yunho wiggled his eyebrows, making Jaejoong cracked a small, consolation smile. A tiny reflection of Yunho’s own charming one.

The brawny male reached over and patted Jaejoong on the back with his free hand. A wildfire started where he touched, distracting Jaejoong when Yunho nodded approvingly and said through his smile, “That’s it. You have a nice smile. Smile more.”

Heat.

Rapid heart beats.

Confusion.

Clearing his throat, Jaejoong bit the soft, smooth inside of his cheek to come back to his reality and monotonously grumbled softly in his throat, “You just got paint on my shirt.”

“Do not worry.” The saucy teenager winked. “Your shirt was already marked with paint. Your doing. So is your face and fringes.” Yunho took the chance to dip his fingers in the blood red paint and drew smiling lines on the corner of Jaejoong's lips.

Jaejoong stayed still, eyes glaring at a giggling Yunho who flashed him his teeth and added, admiring his handiwork, “Just helping you keep a twenty—four—seven smile.”

“Great,” the vocalist griped. “It is too hot for this mess, Yunho.”

Yunho let out a short melodic laugh. “I quite like this.”

“Why?” he asked, skeptical.

“I get to hang out with you. It’s fun being with you.”

Another heart attack. His belly filled with warmth.

Jaejoong was thankful for the heat, his face reddening would not be detected.

He didn’t know why he had those reactions to Yunho’s innocent comments. Jaejoong decided not to analyze them.

“You mean, you get to pester me. Look at what you did to my face and shirt!”

His fit only served to make Yunho laugh and his lower belly dipped and flipped dangerously, filling with something scorching. It was uncomfortable.

It was stupid, he reasoned, to dwell on these reactions. They were unimportant. And was probably the result of his admiration for Yunho and them becoming close.

Yunho did notice how the tip of Jaejoong’s ear turned pink. As always, he found it cute.

Jaejoong was much softer, and nicer than his hard inscrutable surface let on. Yunho quite liked that. Hard outside but soft inside, like his favorite treats.

Clearing his throat, Jaejoong remarked, “I am impressed you have such an aged great grandfather.”

“You think so?” he remarked.

Jaejoong really should not have been impressed, given that couples tended to have children young, which meant most children knew at least three generation of their family tree.

“He is only ninety-nine."

"Only?" Jaejoong laughed.

Yunho smirked good-naturedly. "Yeah. He's great."

Jaejoong could see the love and admiration on Yunho's tanned, handsome face.

"I knew my other great grandparents too. Do—did?—you know yours?”

He shook his head and wiped some sweat off his forehead with his wrist. Unfortunately it was with the hand that was holding the brush. He smear more paint on his alabaster skin, making Yunho sniggered.

“Let me give you a flower on your cheek.” The playful, tanned male reached toward Jaejoong’s face, making the teen leaned back. Yunho laughed.

“Stop.” Jaejoong breathed sharply when Yunho’s fingers reached his cheek and he triumphantly began drawing intricate patterns there.

“It’s fun!” Yunho laughed, but pulled back.

“Grab me some paper—towels.”

Doing as he instructed, Yunho asked, “Seriously, you do not know your great grandparents? Really?”

Jaejoong shook his head again with a chagrin expression, trying to wipe the paint of his sweaty face with his hand.

His eyes landed on Yunho. He did not understand Yunho’s look of surprised. “What?”

Yunho dropped a pile of stiff, white papers on Jaejoong’s flattened palms.

“Nothing. Just surprising.”

Jaejoong lifted and rolled his shoulders. “They all died before I was conceived. My grandmother died right before I was born—three months prior, actually, now that I am thinking about it.” He held Yunho’s attentive soothing brown eyes. Yunho looked away first. “They died...fairly young.”

If you considered seventies as young. They were laborers, and their end had not been much of a surprise. They worked hard all of their life, breaking down their bodies. It was best that they died young before they suffered through old age.

He began scrubbing his face, relishing in not having to look at Yunho.

“I am sorry.”

“What for? Death is natural.” He caught Yunho’s brown gaze.

“True.”

They silently broke their gaze and went back to work.

“Well, if you want to know what it is like to have a great grandfather, my home and Poppi is opened to you.” Yunho’s voice was warm and husky.

He gave Jaejoong a paternal smile.

Jaejoong wondered if Yunho thought him as a child, a weakling, something fragile to look after.

Was he trying to prove himself by becoming my friend?

No, Yunho came off as too authentic, too good for such a thing.

He lifted his hand and a distracted Jaejoong’s fringes away from his sweaty forehead.

Jaejoong unconsciously trembled.

Yunho took it as him flinching and rapidly stepped back, and yanked his hand away, quickly issuing an apology. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to get in your personal space.”

Yunho was a touchy person. A fact Jaejoong thought of as a positive.

“I was removing some paint from your hair.”

Jaejoong’s cheeks heated up. Yunho knew he trembled at his touch, how embarrassing. “It is okay.” He ducked his gaze. “Thank you.”

Jaejoong really, really hated this.

Why him? Why Yunho?

Why couldn’t Yunho react to him as he did to him?

It would solve everything.

Or would it?

“My pleasure.” Yunho’s smile was blinding and pure.

When Yunho got home that night, he asked his grandfather if he wouldn’t mind entertaining his friends during their upcoming afternoon break. They would have practice only in the morning, getting out before noon.

The elderly man who already showered, was sitting on the wooden floor in the open side porch with his fan, which he also used as a mosquito swatter, and with plate of sliced water melons next to him. Poppi's cat sat on his lap and he was gently her head with one hand and holding his watermelon with the other. Scrunching his nose, he bluntly told his great grandchild, “You stink. Go shower.”

“Poppi!” he whined, making to hug him, teasing the elderly man.

He stopped Chrysanthemum’s head and grabbed his fan, swatting at his grandchild with twinkling eyes.

“Come talk to me after you shower.”

“Okay!” the excited boy shouted, jumping up. It was a roundabout yes.

The elderly man shook his head with a fond smile. “Youth,” he crooned.