The last situation Jinyoung thought he’d ever find himself in was an aggressive pillow fight with Lai Kuanlin.

Which was funny, considering how he’d spent the past fifteen minutes hurling the entirety of Daehwi’s sofa-cushion collection one by one at Kuanlin’s head, fending off counter-attacks with his fluffiest throw-pillow, and then darting across the room to retrieve Daehwi’s cushions before Kuanlin could pilfer them from under his nose.

It was late on a Saturday afternoon, and Jinyoung had just returned home from accompanying Daehwi to an offhand reunion with his friend from middle school. The friend in question, Jeon Somyi, was a tiny little thing. She was even tinier still than Daehwi himself, and as it happened, was also the younger sister of Jeon Somi, who debuted in IOI a couple of years back. Had Jinyoung not gotten enough sleep the night before, he would’ve been convinced that the sisters were one and the same, as the resemblance between them was  that startling.

After having returned, they were greeted almost immediately by the principal’s familiar, sing-song voice blaring through the loudspeakers installed near the lobby of the dormitory, alerting them to an assembly at Kirin Hall for the contestants of the Idol Project, and they were expected to arrive at the venue by eight o’clock sharp. Thinking they’d at least make themselves look presentable should the assembly turn out to be a televised affair, the eleven of them had retreated to their respective bedrooms in order to change into a fresh set of clothes.

Jinyoung, however, failed to bring his keys and had gotten locked out of his own room, and Jaehwan for some reason refused to let him in, either because he was fast asleep or wearing those massive noise-cancelling headphones.

So he was left with no other choice but to borrow from Kuanlin’s wardrobe for the time being.

The pillow fight would ensue not too long after.

It reminded him of one of those capture-the-flag type of games he used to play as a kid for hours on end with the children from across the street; only this time, he was ambling around within the limited confines of Kuanlin and Daehwi’s shared bedroom, and Kuanlin’s wingspan was about thrice the length of the neighbourhood children’s.

How is a seventeen year old this tall, anyway? Jinyoung thought. I need to find out which brand of magical vitamin or mystical potion he’s been ingesting all these years, and get me some of that before I’m well past puberty.

“Aren’t you getting tired of this, already?” Jinyoung asked. “I said I was sorry for accidentally reading through your composition book.”

Another pillow soared in projectile motion through the air, barely missing Jinyoung’s right shoulder as he ducked to the side.

“How was that an accident?” Kuanlin accused. “You were holding my notebook up with both hands like an encyclopedia!”

Jinyoung sighed. Kuanlin was right that as he changed into a new outfit inside the bathroom, Jinyoung had taken the liberty of flipping through the pages and browsing at the contents of his notebook.  That being said, he would’ve asked for permission to dig further in had he not gotten completely engrossed in Kuanlin’s unexpected knack for sentimental lyricism.

And as luck would have it, Kuanlin had caught him in the act and snitched at his phone from atop the dresser as payback, and little did Jinyoung know that his knee-jerk reaction of reaching for the nearest piece of furnishing and lobbing it at Kuanlin’s freshly made-up face would set into motion a pillow-throwing and face-hitting contest that had yet to end even at that point.

Jinyoung had managed to recover his phone, but Kuanlin was unrelenting in attempting to scroll through its contents, which Jinyoung was out on a limb for to keep safe and away from prying, judgmental eyes.

The reason? His photo gallery was chock-full of images and videos of Jihoon taken and saved over the past couple of months, from his ‘Monster’ dance practice to him sleeping peacefully throughout History class. And because it was no longer Jinyoung’s favorite pastime to look through them and laugh idiotically by himself at Jihoon’s antics, he’d already forgotten he had such a massive compilation sitting in his memory card in the first place, and therefore had also forgotten to have them deleted. And were Kuanlin to find out just how stupidly infatuated he’d been with his best friend enough to uninstall his favorite applications just to make space for new Park Jihoon material (and Jinyoung vividly recalled having to let go of his progress on Mystic Messenger, a game he’d spent a good month and a half trying to beat) he would undoubtedly lose the remaining scraps of dignity he had left and would have to live the rest of his days a lonely, reclusive hermit.

“Just a peek, hyung!” Kuanlin exclaimed. “I’ve already looked through the permanently scarring contents of Woojin-hyung’s phone, so I should be mentally prepared for whatever it is that you’re hiding in there.”

Kuanlin clasped both hands together, blinking at Jinyoung cutely. “Just a quick peep. Pretty please?”

Jinyoung shook his head, backing away suspiciously. “Puppy-dog eyes don’t work on me,” He said, still brandishing Daehwi’s pillow like some glorified piece of weaponry. “You’ll need a much better tactic than aegyo.”

Kuanlin’s brow shot up, skeptical of Jinyoung’s bravado. “It worked yesterday when Daehwi asked for you to grab him a juice refill,” Kuanlin stated. “You stood right up and bolted straight for the dispenser.”

“That’s different,” Jinyoung said, blushing at the infuriating precision of Kuanlin’s visual acumen. “Daehwi’s an exception to every rule.”

“You don’t have a thousand and one pictures of Daehwi clogging up your phone storage, do you?” Kuanlin said, eyeing Jinyoung mistrustfully. “And if not… are they Jihoon-hyung’s, then?”

“It’s not like that!” Jinyoung exclaimed, guilty as charged. He hid his phone frantically behind his back.

If Kuanlin found out, Jinyoung thought, flying into an upsurge of panic. Sooner or later Daehwi will too, and the last thing I want is for this to snowball into a useless misunderstanding.

“Just give me some time to delete these,” Jinyoung offered. “And I’ll let you use my phone as much as you’d like. It’ll only take a minute.”

Kuanlin’s eyes narrowed at him, before eventually conceding and gesturing for Jinyoung to go ahead before he made his next move.

Jinyoung breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the temporary reprieve from having to constantly parry the soft blows he received as Kuanlin came at him with his fattest pillow. But the very second he let his guard down, just as he was about to reach the destination folder he intended to wipe clean of damaging evidence, Kuanlin lunged for him and snatched the phone right out of his hand with one lightning-quick swipe.

“HEY!” Jinyoung exclaimed, jumping at the phone that Kuanlin was holding up and out of arms’ reach. “THAT WASN’T FAIR!”

Kuanlin stuck a tongue out at him, pleased with himself for convincing Jinyoung that such a truce was possible between them. “This is revenge for trying to read through the lyrics of the song I wrote for—“

But before Kuanlin could finish the rest of his sentence, Jinyoung side-stepped behind him and sprinted for his notebook, and Kuanlin let loose an audible gasp, unable to anticipate Jinyoung’s blitz attack. He sent a pillow flying through the air, and before he could stop himself, Jinyoung instinctively raised his leg and rolled his hip over, effectively roundhouse-kicking the pillow and sending it flying straight back, over Kuanlin’s head before landing it neatly on top of his bed.  Kuanlin’s head followed the pillow as it arced above him, mouth ajar in wonder.

“WOAAAHH,” he exclaimed, gaping at Jinyoung in stupefaction. “What was that, hyung?”

Jinyoung cleared his throat, embarrassed that he’d let slip his hidden dexterity. “Nothing. Just a lucky strike, that’s all.” He moved backwards, still gunning for Kuanlin’s notebook. “Give me back my phone and I’ll return this to you.”

 “No, I want my notebook first!” Kuanlin negotiated. “You looked through it first, anyway.”

It was Jinyoung’s turn to stick his tongue out at Kuanlin. “No can do, buddy. I’m not making any promises before you stay true to yours.”

“Well then,” Kuanlin said. “Let’s just see what you’re keeping inside of this—“

“NO, STOP IT!” Jinyoung bellowed, throwing himself at Kuanlin with enough force to topple him over, and send the both of them landing on top of Kuanlin’s bed.

“Just give me my notebook back!” Kuanlin said, both hands clasping at Jinyoung’s wrists to push him away.

Jinyoung shook his head. “Not until you give me back what’s mine.” He leaned forward, extending a hand outwards to reach for his phone.

At that very moment, the bedroom door swung violently open. Both Kuanlin and Jinyoung's heads snapped to the side, their bodies frozen in place and unable to move even the barest inch. 

Okay, Jinyoung thought. We’re officially done for.

Jihoon and Daehwi were standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and pale-faced at the sight of Jinyoung straddling Kuanlin on top of his bed.

“J-Jinyoung-ah?” Daehwi squeaked.  “What… what are you doing?”

“I… I can explain,” Jinyoung began, struggling to find the right words to say. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Hyung,” Kuanlin whispered. “You should probably let go and get off of me already.”

Realizing belatedly that he still hadn’t relinquished his hold on Kuanlin’s left wrist, Jinyoung let go immediately, horrified and confused, scrambling backwards until his bum hit the bedframe.

“I’m giving you ten seconds,” Jihoon said, seething in rage. “To explain yourself before I detonate.”

Jinyoung gulped, not knowing where to start. “He wanted to look through my phone,” Jinyoung said, pointing to Kuanlin. “I was just trying to get it back.”

“Oh please,” Jihoon said, entirely unconvinced. “Even I know that you safeguard your phone with the most complicated passcode known to man, so don’t you dare even think for a second that I’m buying that excuse.”

Jinyoung gaped at Jihoon, stunned by his contentious speech and floored by his own disappointing lapse in memory. The truth was, he’d been caught up in his fear of getting found out, that it managed to slip his mind that his phone was heavily protected by an elaborate trifecta of passwords, fingerprint scanners, and even facial-recognition software, just for good measure.

 “About that,” Jinyoung began. He cast a nervous glance at Daehwi, anticipating the waterworks that were sure to come. “Well you see, I… uhm…“

The split-second of hesitation did him in.

“Jinyoung-aaah,” Daehwi sniffled. “YOU TRAITOR!”

Before any of them could move in to stop him, Daehwi rushed out of the room and out the corridor, and Jinyoung could do little else than stare after him as he disappeared entirely from view.

“DAEHWI-YA, WAIT!”  Jinyoung called out. “Ahh… your shirt buttons were misaligned, too…”

“Now look what you’ve done,” Jihoon said, shaking his head and tsk-ing at both of them in disappointment. “Poor Daehwi… he was but a victim of unforeseen circumstances…”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “Oh, spare me the dramaticized monologue, already.”

“And as for you,” Jihoon said, turning to Kuanlin. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

“Nothing,” Kuanlin shrugged. “I was just cultivating my newfound interest in bothering other people.”

“Yeah, right,” Jihoon muttered. “If you’re going to recycle from Seongwoo hyung’s master list of excuses, at least cite the source.”

“Great going, Kuanlin-ah,” Jinyoung whispered animatedly. “You’ve triggered Jihoon’s inner ahjumma, and now we’ll have to sit through a thirty-minute lecture entitled ‘Plagiarism is Illegal’.”

“So you’re telling me,” Jihoon continued, actively ignoring Jinyoung’s remark. “that Jinyoung over here just happened to be wrestling you against the bed right as Daehwi and I were about to walk in?”

“Pretty much,” Kuanlin shrugged. “You’re good at this, hyung.”

“And why…” Jihoon continued, scanning Kuanlin’s bare torso for three seconds too long. “Why… why aren’t you dressed in anything?”

“What do you mean, hyung?” Kuanlin said, pointing to the jeans that hung low at his waist, the labelled garter of his Calvin Klein underwear peeking out from underneath. “I’m dressed in these.”

“That…” Jihoon began, red -eared and even redder-faced. “That isn’t nearly enough.”

Jihoon shuffled over to the nearest rack of clothes, tossing Kuanlin the shirt at the very top of the pile. “At least put this on.”

Kuanlin did as he was told.

“That outfit looks good on you, hyung,” he observed, pointing at Jihoon’s all-white ensemble as he fit his arms through the shirt-holes. “I haven’t seen you looking this attractive in a long while.” He winked at Jihoon playfully.

Or at the very least, he tried to, Jinyoung thought. That non-wink of his needs a ton of work.

“That wink of yours needs a ton of work.” Jihoon deadpanned. “And when I say ton, I mean a full-on lesson on how not to look like you’re suffering from astigmatism.”

“I don’t know, hyung,” Kuanlin teased in response. “Your visuals may have actually blinded me.”

“Yeah it’s settled,” Jinyoung said then, rising abruptly to his feet. “I’m not sitting my through this torture.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jihoon demanded.

“Nowhere near this embarrassing exchange, that’s for sure,” Jinyoung said, throwing on the oversized sweatshirt hanging lazily by the coat rack. “I’ll be at Kirin Hall once the Idol Project Assembly starts, and you guys had better be through with checking each other out by then. In the meantime, I’ll just go and find out where Daehwi’s gone off to.”

It was already dark out when Jinyoung found Daehwi at the outdoor plaza, crouched near the grass by the flowerbeds and absently plucking at the petals of a fallen chrysanthemum.

“He loves me… He loves me not…He loves me… He—”

“Hey there,” Jinyoung said, interrupting Daehwi’s bizarre ritual. “Would you happen to know where a kid about your size might be hiding? Same build, same hairstyle, talks to himself in English, screeches like a banshee and perpetually complains about his non-existent baby fat…”

Daehwi snorted. “If you happen to come across someone doing some sort of back-breaking squatting exercise,” he said. “That would be him trying to collect the smattered fragments of his broken heart.”

Jinyoung sighed defeatedly, settling himself beside Daehwi. “You don’t actually think Kuanlin’s my type, do you?”

Daehwi frowned, puffing out his cheeks, causing Jinyoung’s brain to autopilot into a rapid-fire debate on whether or not to pinch him or kiss him silly. “Do you even have a type?”

“Sure I do,” Jinyoung confimed. “Petite, cherry-lipped and small-nosed, alcohol intolerant and cries over useless things… you know, that sort of thing.”

Daehwi turned away. “Your type of guy sounds like a massive pain in the neck.”

Jinyoung laughed, reaching for both of Daehwi’s hands before standing up and pulling Daehwi along with him. He gave Daehwi’s rumpled state a quick once-over, then began readjusting and refastening the buttons of his checkered polo, dusting off stray petals and blades of grass as he went.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Jinyoung said. “Even though it was an accident, I’m sure it made you feel rather uncomfortable.”

Daehwi looked to the ground, fidgeting awkwardly. “And I’m sorry for running away,” he apologized, stepping forwards to wrap Jinyoung in a warm, reconciliatory embrace. “I never meant to make you worry. It’s just… It’s just that I can’t help but feel insecure, even over the most trivial, nonsensical of things.”

Jinyoung Daehwi’s hair affectionately, circling his delicate waist with the other hand. “I understand that. But can’t you have just a little more faith in me, Daehwi-ya?”

“I’m trying,” Daehwi assured him. “But there’s never any certainty when it comes to you. I always feel as if one day I’m going to blink and lose you in the space between.”

Jinyoung rested his cheek against the side of Daehwi’s head, breathing in the scent of shampoo and fresh laundry.

I wish things didn’t have to be this way, Jinyoung thought. I wish you didn’t have to constantly look over your shoulder just to make sure that I haven’t already left you.

“There isn’t space enough in this heart of mine for two lovers,” Jinyoung assured him. He placed a hand underneath Daehwi’s chin, gently urging him to look upwards and into his eyes. “It’s all you from this point forwards. I hope you know that.”

Daehwi smiled, burying his face in the fabric of Jinyoung’s shirt. For a while, Jinyoung let him stay there, one hand still at Daehwi’s waist and the other gently combing through his soft, silky hair.

Afterwards, Daehwi pushed Jinyoung away slightly, looking a little guilty. “Somehow, it feels like we’re being watched.”

Jinyoung scanned the vicinity, finding no signs of sentient life save for themselves, and the host of dragonflies circling low above their heads. “There’s no one here, Daehwi-ya,” he said. “We’re all alone.”

“Jinyoung-ah, look,” Daehwi said then, head tilting upwards to the infinite sky. “I think I’ve spotted them. The ones watching us.”

Jinyoung followed his gaze to the constellation of stars painting an ethereal picture of radiance across the skies, all at once wondering how it could be that from afar they were a sight to behold, when from up close they were nuclear fireballs of light, torrid enough to burn you to a crisp and eat you alive.

There are two sides to everything, and only one of them can be seen at a time. 

He turned to Daehwi then, whose eyes were still transfixed upon the stars.

When we die and go to heaven, Jinyoung thought. Do we become one with them, watching over our loved ones and guiding them through the dark?

“I always did like the stars,” he murmured. “But I never thought to consider what they meant, what they were for, and why they’re even up there in the first place. But I do remember reading from a book that all of us are stars in one way or another.”

Daehwi nodded. “The individual atoms that make up the human body emerge from the same atoms that used to make up the stars billions of years ago. And what they were made of are the exact same things that make us up. They simply exist now to create an altogether different entity.”

“Is that so?” Jinyoung said, smiling to himself. “I guess that’s why my mom always tells me I’m like a star to her, too.”

“Jinyoung-ah,” Daehwi said, and the way Jinyoung’s name sounded on Daehwi’s lips sent chills through him, the way the frigid night air never could. “Haven’t you ever thought about it? How an atom that once upon a time had been part of a red giant, now makes up a part of your ear? How a small part of your little finger could once have been a supernova? How a slice of the nebula now has the privilege of calling your smile its home?”

It took Jinyoung forever and a day to find his voice.

“In other words, we all are made of sky and stardust.” Daehwi said. “Imagine that.”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung said. “Imagine that.”

 “And did you know this, Jinyoung-ah?” Daehwi whispered. “Of the seven billion smiles that exist in this world, yours is my absolute favorite.”

Jinyoung’s brow shot up in curiosity. “And why is that?”

“It’s the sort of smile that inspires the stars to climb up into the sky and light up the whole world.”

He laughed softly, amused by Daehwi’s romantic outbursts. “Daehwi-ya, has Shakespeare’s ghost possessed you again? I thought he only came to visit whenever you wrote those depressing love songs about me.”

“He comes and goes at random,” Daehwi shrugged. “More and more with each passing day.”

“If that’s the case,” Jinyoung said. “Then can’t you write me a song that isn’t about unrequited love?”

“Nonsense,” Daehwi said, shaking his head vigorously. “When it comes to ballads, only the infinite curse of a love unreturned is at its very core a heart-rending masterpiece.”

“If you say so,” Jinyoung sighed defeatedly. “But I must admit, I never knew that you paid enough attention in class to know of those things you’ve just taught me.”

“That depends,” Daehwi said. “Algebra is a snoozefest, but Cosmology lends itself to a wellspring of knowledge I’d like to tap even further into.”

Jinyoung nodded in wholehearted agreement. He gazed upwards, at the night sky that shone ever so brightly, illuminated by the light of the only stars visible from where they stood. Jinyoung saw them flicker, in and out, small bursts of movement that made it seem as if they were alive, gazing back at the peculiar sight of them from where they were permanently etched onto the surface of outer space.

Are they even real?

“They’re time travellers,” Daehwi said.

“What?” Jinyoung replied, not quite understanding.

 “You see,” Daehwi began. “The only reason why we can even see the stars from this distance is that they’re big enough. In reality, however, they’re millions and billions of miles away. By the time their light reaches the surface of the earth close enough for us to view them, they may already have passed into non-existence.”

Jinyoung gaped at him, stunned by the knowledge. “I hadn’t even known they could die. They look so majestic up there. As if they’ve been up there forever.”

“A million years can seem like forever,” he replied. “Which is why I like to live my life as if I’m going to die tomorrow. Because to those stars, humans live lives as fleeting as drops of rain falling to the ground, so I like to pretend that my life will pass just as quickly if I don’t grab solid hold of every opportunity that comes before me.”

Jinyoung nodded, amazed by the amount of wisdom such a tiny little boy could possess. “Kind of like this?” Jinyoung asked, grabbing at both of Daehwi’s hands.

“Yeah,” Daehwi giggled. “Exactly like this.”

Jinyoung smiled, pressing a feather-light kiss onto Daehwi’s cheek.

Daehwi-ya, he thought. Why is it that at times like these, you shine so very brightly?

It’s as if you’re one of them, those stars up there, an illusory dream fading in and out through the murky twilight.

Jinyoung closed his eyes, leaning forwards to press their foreheads together.

How have you come to be, Daehwi-ya? And how have you come to love me?

“I love you, Jinyoung-ah,” Daehwi whispered. “And I will never tire of saying that, no matter how many times I’ll have to bear your silence as the only response.”

Jinyoung squeezed his eyes even tighter shut.

Do I love him back? He wondered. And if so, why does it feel as though saying the words is a giant leap over the edge of a cliff, and instead of making it to the other side, I’ll end up dashing my head against the rocks beneath?

“I’m afraid I’ll be the one to hurt you,” he said. “I’m so terrified of being the one to break your heart, when you deserve no less than a man who will run through hell and back just to keep it whole.”

Daehwi shook his head, smiling sadly.

“You’ve already broken it, Jinyoung-ah,” Daehwi said. “And still you break it into even tinier pieces with each passing day. But that won’t stop me from loving you this way. Even if you crushed my porcelain heart into powder, each microscopic shard will continue to beat for you as one.”

Jinyoung reopened his eyes, letting himself get lost in Daehwi’s words.

“William,” he said. “Is that you?”

Daehwi blinked at him, confused and disoriented. “William? Who’s William?”

“Shakespeare,” Jinyoung said, grinning. “Just then it felt as if you were reciting his sonnets to me.”

Daehwi giggled. “The lyrical genius within me is flattered.”

“I bet you could have turned that spiel into a new song.”

“Why?” Daehwi asked. “Does it have to do with unrequited love?”

Jinyoung stared at him, alarmed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Relax,” Daehwi said. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. Besides, I’d hate to exert undue pressure on you. And if by chance you’re already feeling burdened by me … I’m really sorry for that, too.”

“You know,” Jinyoung said. “The depth of your love for me is the only ocean I’m willing to drown in.”

Daehwi laughed, and the trilling sound of it was music to Jinyoung’s ears. “William? Is that you?”

“Yeah, we should probably stop invoking his spirit from now on,” Jinyoung said, chuckling lightly. “It’s starting to give me the creeps.”

For a moment the both of them just stood there, gazing at the stars, the only movement passing between them the steady rise and fall of their chests as they watched on.

 “By the way, Jinyoung-ah…” Daehwi began, pushing at Jinyoung’s chest slightly.

Jinyoung evaluated Daehwi’s expression, who looked as if he was stuck at a crossroads dotted with signboards pointing every which way.

“What is it?” Jinyoung asked him. “You can tell me anything. I won’t mind.”

Daehwi swallowed nervously. “What… what exactly were you trying so hard to hide from Kuanlin, anyway?”

“Ugh,” Jinyoung grumbled. “Way to kill the mood.”

“Would it kill you to tell me?”

“I’d rather tussle with a pack of starving lions, to be honest. At least then, I won’t have to sacrifice my respectability.”

But then again, Jinyoung thought. I’m sick and tired of keeping secrets.

My heart is already filled with them almost to bursting, and if I tried to squeeze in just one more, I’m sure it would hurt beyond any stretch of the imagination.

“Just promise me,” Jinyoung said. “That you aren’t going to fly into a jealous rage once you find out.”

“A jealous rage, no,” Daehwi said. “But a hissy fit, maybe.”

Jinyoung sighed defeatedly. “Somehow, both of those sound like the exact same thing.”

He retrieved his phone from within the depths of his coat pocket, tapping at the home button lightly and holding the phone to the light in order for the facial-recognition software to work its magic. Once he heard the familiar click of the phone as it unlocked, he began scrolling through the widgets until he arrived at the shameful folder. He handed the phone over to Daehwi, turning 180 degrees to escape from having to witness as Daehwi riffed through his digital gallery.

A few seconds passed in excruciating silence.

“Is this…” Daehwi began. “Is this a virtual Park Jihoon cyber-sanctuary you’re building?”

Jinyoung buried his head in both hands, utterly ashamed. “I wish you’d stop saying these things in present tense,” he sighed. “I was just about to get rid of the entire thing, too.”

“You sure about that?” Daehwi asked. “This must’ve taken an awful lot of time to curate.”

Jinyoung squirmed uneasily.

The depressing truth was… Jinyoung still wasn’t over Park Jihoon.

Or at least, not entirely, and that had much to do with his uncertainty on deciding once and for all to embrace his own undeniable feelings for Lee Daehwi. Overtime, however, the sharp pang of bitterness and hostility he used to languish through had faded to an almost insignificant tingle, and the heart once left tattered in bruises and peppered with wounds was slowly beginning to work itself into perfect restoration.

One day, Jinyoung promised. I’ll gather enough of the courage to say the words back.

But when the time comes… will you have already given up?

Jinyoung closed his eyes, frightened of the possibilities as they stretched on endlessly in either direction.

“I need to help myself move on, too,” Jinyoung mumbled, weaving his hand underneath Daehwi’s to press at the trash-bin icon and hit delete.  “And while I’m at it, I need an upgrade on my phone’s storage capacity. It’s getting kind of laggy.”

Jinyoung reached for Daehwi’s cheek, drinking in the sight of him as the moonlight cast his features in a soft, almost iridescent glow.

“So throw me a bone here,” he said. “Tell me you appreciate the effort.”

Daehwi giggled, nodding eagerly. “Thanks, Jinyoung-ah,” he whispered sweetly. “I have something else to tell you.”

He made a small come-hither gesture with his right hand, and Jinyoung leaned in forwards slightly, letting Daehwi whisper straight into ear.

“If by chance,” Daehwi said. “You’re playing around with me and have copies saved onto an external hard drive, I’m going to -slap you so hard you’ll fly all the way to Jupiter.”

Jinyoung laughed nervously, inching away from Daehwi carefully. “That’s adorable, Daehwi-ya, but I hope you don’t actually mean that.”

He ran a quick analysis on Daehwi’s expression, cycling between fearing for his own safety and calculating how many newtons of force it would take to catapult him onto the surface of a planet circling the sun two orbits away.

Why’d you skip Mars? Jinyoung thought uselessly. Am I that annoying?

 “I, uhm… I do have an external hard drive,” Jinyoung admitted. “But all I’ve done so far is download a couple terabytes’ worth of blockbuster movies and noon-time hits, so it’s a negative on those backup files you’ve been expecting. Unless you aren’t a fan of those, too?”

“I was kidding,” Daehwi said, grinning triumphantly at Jinyoung’s shaken expression. “I don’t mind either way. After all, these things do take time.”

“Right,” Jinyoung muttered. “So those tiny fists of yours only come at Seongwoo-hyung full force? Duly noted. I’ll make sure to tell him not to stand within a ten meter radius of you from now on.”

“Hey!” Daehwi said, looking offended. “Why am I the dangerous one all of a sudden?”

“Ever watched ‘Weightlifting Fairy’?” Jinyoung asked, abruptly changing topic in order not to give Daehwi another excuse to resent him.

Jupiter is enough, Jinyoung thought. If he threatens me with Pluto, I’m done for.

“Is it a movie or a television series?” Daehwi asked.

“Television,” Jinyoung replied. “I must admit, it isn’t particularly profound, and neither is the plotline thrillingly complex or life-changing, either, but it does keep the boredom at bay from time to time. You’ve never heard of it?”

Daehwi shook his head then, and Jinyoung wondered when he’d ever stop thinking that Daehwi’s every movement was a fluff attack waiting to happen.

“What’s it about?” Daehwi asked. “Sounds kinda fun.”

“It’s this coming-of-age story about a group of college athletes,” Jinyoung explained. “Who find love in one another as they fight for their dreams. The main protagonist is a weightlifting phenom, hence the title. She reminds me of you, to be honest... Small, passive-aggressive, pulls the cutest expressions and likes to