18th October, 2013. 7:35 AM.

If someone asked me what exactly it is I despise about weekdays, I’d tell them the answer is simple.

Everything.

Because weekdays mean having to spend the entire day at school, and even just the thought of that makes me wish I could hibernate until the end of the semester.

Instead, I'm standing guardedly inside of a moving train, already headed for Shinhwa Academy. Earphones in place, I watch the view of the cityscapes pass me by and wonder why a sight so charming and picturesque can barely even offer me the slightest consolation.

Then again, the express route is hardly the easiest, or most pleasant mode of transport. I myself am not a fan of the commute, given the massive throng of civilians jostling each other as the train zips onward, carryalls and knapsacks bumping forcibly against me.

The railcar grinds to a halt, and I stumble gracelessly forwards.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, but the person I’ve knocked into pays me no heed. I suppose I’m lucky, as unwanted attention would break me into a sweat.

You have arrived at Seoul Station, a voice announces over the intercom. Please be careful of your steps as you exit.

I alight onto the platform, the familiar layout of Korea’s grandest transportation hub in view. Before I can find my bearings, however, a figure clad in worn-out denim rushes past, bucking me hurriedly out of the way. I lose my footing, scarcely able to regain my center of balance before I fall altogether to my feet.

It’s as if I’m invisible, I think. Made entirely of air.

Moving past everyone, presence unnoticed, taken thoroughly for granted.

I heave in a sigh, walking dejectedly towards the turnstile and through the b exit, where I zigzag my way past a mob of pedestrians.

Everywhere I go I see tired eyes, droopy shoulders, impassive steps and vacant expressions.

As if compelled by duress to drag on, marching not to work but to the nearest execution block.

That’s right, I think. That’s right, Lee Daehwi.

You aren’t alone in your desire not to go where it is you are headed.

Before long, the hulking gates of Shinhwa come gradually into view, five-storey buildings clumped together, looming over me as if to swallow me whole.

I stare at my feet as I walk.

I rush through the gates and avoid eye-contact, be it on purpose or unfortunate happenstance. I keep my face hidden beneath side-swept bangs, eyes darting nervously, head hung in shame, praying to all the gods that today I go unnoticed. I brisk-walk past an unruly crowd, feet treading noiselessly in steady, robotic movements.

Almost there, I think. One left turn and a staircase away.

“Oh, look who it is,” a scornful voice remarks. “Our little idol wannabe.”

I freeze mid-walk, hands moving to the straps of my backpack.

“Shhh,” another voice speaks up, rife with distaste and mockery. “Don’t say that too loud, or else it might hear you.”

Raucous laughter sweeps through the air, pain shooting through me one spiteful word at a time.

I regain muscle movement in my legs, walking mousily away. My feet quicken in pace, and I find that I’ve stopped caring where it is they take me.

Anywhere, I think. Anywhere but here.

The footfalls behind me draw nearer. I feel as if I’m sinking into dirt, quicksand pulling me in at the ankles.

“Hey, Lee Daehwi,” another voice calls out, and I jump backwards in surprise as a hulking figure obscures my field of vision. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“C-class…” I stammer. “I… I have Homeroom today.”

“Don’t we all?” he argues. “Not like I asked because I cared.”

I back away, and then immediately regret it. I step accidentally onto expensive leather shoes.

“You’ll pay for that.”

 A heavy set of hands shoves me forwards. I lurch and am brought to my knees, asphalt scraping the delicate flesh of my fingers.

I bite back the pain, eyes b with tears.

“You crying now?”

“N-no,” I stutter. “I’m… I’m sorry for dirtying your shoes.”

“You should be,” I hear. “These are worth more than your life, you gay- piece of .”

I unsling my backpack, hugging it to myself.

What comes next?

Will they steal away my lunchbox? Demand for me to give up my weekly allowance? Embarrass me in public? Or perhaps…

They surround me, hands outstretched, palms facing upwards.

Perhaps all three.

I my backpack in a hurry, rifling through the contents for my sandwich bag and wallet. My hands shake visibly as I turn them over, like a criminal caught engaging in theft.

“You’re well-behaved today,” one of them says. “Looks like you’ve finally learnt your lesson.”

“Any other man would put up resistance,” the other observes. “You even a man, Lee Daehwi?”

“Stop that,” the last of them scolds. The ridicule is plain in his tone, ripping clean through my brittle composure. “Can’t you see this little girl is frightened?”

My chin is tilted forcefully upwards, and from the sidelines, I notice other students already looking our way.

Strange faces stare at me, filled with  contempt.

I see disgust, I see outrage.

There he goes again, Lee Daehwi. Getting himself bullied. 

The good-for-nothing weakling won’t even fight back.

And then I see pity. I see sympathy, and regret.

I see cowardice.

Won’t you help me? I think weakly. Please help me.

My fingers dig into the pavement, cement tearing into my skin. My wallet is thrown at my chest, emptied of cash, and I hear laughter, tongues clicking, footsteps headed past.

My assailants are walking away, no one else left to take responsibility for what I’ve been put through the hundredth time over.

And then, without another word, I wobble to my feet and run for my life.

I barely make it past a hundred steps before fingers close tight against my wrist, and I am pulled into a rigid embrace.

“It’s alright,” an unfamiliar voice whispers. “You’ll be alright.”

Fingers weave through my hair, my head buried against the folds of someone else’s uniform.

“Cry,” he says. “As much as you’d like.”

So I do. I break, and rupture, collapse into arms I’ve never known, weep until I’ve lost all strength.

“Help me,” I whisper.

And then, for the very first time, I hear it.

An answer.

“I’ll help you,” he says. “Of course I will.”

The thing about ‘Boy In Luv’ Daehwi had mistakenly forgotten to consider was that it required a degree of machismo he didn’t necessarily have or could effectively recreate.

Given his performance track record, comprised for the most part of summer hits, ballads, and girl group dance hits, the gruff, and almost turbulent vibe of the song they’d chosen was suited neither to his vocal range nor his public character.

I might’ve been too ambitious, he thought, partially scrunching up the lyrics sheet into a crumpled mess in his fist. In thinking I could pull this one off, when I can barely even grasp the scanty lines I’ve been given.

A couple nights prior, they’d arranged the line distribution for the song with NU’EST W. After much deliberation, he’d been relegated to singing one line in the bridge, and harmonizing with Sungwoon as his backing vocal for when he attempts to hit the high note before the final chorus.

In other words, he had to shine some other way, even though his confidence had taken a nose-dive and his morale had thrown itself into the nearest recycle bin.

In other other words, he was in danger of wrecking their performance, and saying he ‘struggled’ at the rehearsal studios would have been a great, and most laughable mistake.

‘Struggle’ was hardly the right word. He labored, bent over backwards, shed a tear once or twice off-camera. And having been a top-tier student as far as anyone was concerned, him lagging in pick-up and slackening in pace was an embarrassing, unwelcome development.

“More power on that shoulder movement, Daehwi,” JR scolded. “And instead of smiling, glare at the camera. The anger in this song has to look authentic.”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” Daehwi replied, ashamed to have been called out a third time. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

Worst of all, perhaps, was the fact that a full segment of their practice session was on constant record in front of the camera, for documentation on public broadcast. School Idol Project: Produce 101 was set to make its television debut, and the only thing Daehwi had thus far to show off was an unhealthy taste for self-deprecating humor.

“It’s a talent,” he’d said in an interview, when asked of the excuse for his shoddy performance. “I’ve worked on it for years.”

He face-palmed himself violently upon sudden remembrance.

You have the best timing in screwing things over, Lee Daehwi, he chided himself. Now what?

“Let’s take it from the top!” JR announced. “And this time do it right.”

They practiced the choreography for a couple minutes more, Daehwi singing and dancing as he went with the fiercest glower he could possibly muster.

“That’s it,” JR encouraged. “That’s how it’s done. And Jinyoung, switch places with Kuanlin for that last count. You move around way too much in formation.”

The song blared on incessantly as they rehearsed, until it half-mutated into grating noise in Daehwi’s ear.

He danced in tune with the beat to the best of his abilities, keeping both expression and graceful movement in mind.

If you can’t sing as well as they do, he thought. Then at least give Bangtan’s dancing the justice it deserves.

“That’s all for now,” JR exclaimed. “I’ll give you guys a break, an hour at most. Use it wisely! Self-deliberation is key in all this.”

“Yes, sir!” They rang out in chorus. Even Minhyun chimed in as they spoke, JR gracing him with fond glances and affectionate smiles. Jaehwan’s scowl hardly escaped Daehwi as they interacted, looking all the while as if he’d stepped into a squishy pile of muck.

“You’re overdoing it with that stare,” JR critiqued, noticing the expression of gloom Jaehwan threw his way. “We’re here to look intimidating, not constipated.”

Laughter rang across the room, and Jaehwan cast a mortified look at each one of them, cameras panning steadily towards him in perfect synchronization.

He shuffled out of the room into the adjacent studio, the only sanctuary of liberation from SBC channel’s imposing equipment. The rest of them filed out silently behind him.

After they moved into the room where they’d left their backpacks and their snacks, the eleven of them broke out into smaller groups to eat, head to the bathroom, or conduct self-cam missions elsewhere.

Jinyoung and Jihoon, the break-out stars of the program, were sitting by the door of the room. They were filming themselves as instructed by the video producer, and only then did it occur to Daehwi that Jinyoung had, in fact, spent more time with Jihoon that morning than with the rest of Group One combined.

Such a thought left Daehwi’s heart stinging, and yet the level-headed, more sensible side to him insisted that Jinyoung himself had no choice in the matter.

He’s doing it for the camera, Daehwi thought. And even if he’s not, the both of them are friends.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

Meanwhile, Jaehwan, Minhyun, Jisung, and Sungwoon were out to buy lunch, whereas Woojin busied himself with emptying Jihoon’s bag of sweets (which, Daehwi suspected, he’d done without Jihoon’s permission).

Daehwi, Seongwoo, and Daniel sat themselves in a tightknit circle, sharing a bag of banana chips between them.

 “You alright, Daehwi-ya?” Seongwoo asked. “You look as if the world’s about to end in a few days.”

“Is it,” Daehwi sighed nonchalantly. “Great.”

Seongwoo shot him a look of concern.

“By great I hope you meant oh hell no,” Seongwoo remarked. “If the world has to end, then it should give me time enough at least to spend a couple more nights with Daniel. There are positions we have yet to try, you know. Lots of them.“

Daehwi grimaced at him, index fingers moving upwards to safeguard his ears.

“No, I don’t know,” he exclaimed. “Neither did I have to.”

“You…” Daniel began, cheeks reddening in utmost disgrace. He leaned in slightly towards Seongwoo to whisper discreetly into his ear, even though it failed rather miserably as Daehwi overheard the conversation. “You mean to tell me there’s even more? How many of them are there? And on a scale of 1 to I’m-not-doing-this, how painful are they?”

“Curious?” Seongwoo teased, eyebrows wiggling playfully. “So this twelfth one goes a little like—“

Daniel’s hands flew to muffle Seongwoo’s voice, nervous laughter escaping him as he turned down the volume.

“Seongwoo, babe,” he exclaimed. “You’re amazing, and I think you’re beautiful, but there’s a time and a place for everything.”

“A time and a place, huh,” Seongwoo repeated, flashing him a look of contemplative mischief. “Wanna sneak into someplace private then, so we can have this lovely time you speak of between us?”

Daehwi gagged at the risqué suggestion. “If by that you mean y time,” he muttered. “Then by all means. But don’t count me in, I’m outta here.” He rose to his feet before Jisung could take stock of the exchange, and file that restraint order he’d been threatening for days.

How could you, Ong Seongwoo, he could almost hear Jisung screeching in his ear. These are my babies!

“He’s kidding, Daehwi-ya,” Daniel said, hurriedly grabbing Daehwi by the wrist. “You’re free to stay. We aren’t going anywhere.”

Daehwi returned to where he’d been seated, flashing Daniel the aegyo-charged pout he’d always been fond of. “You mean it?”

“Sure,” Daniel chuckled, pulling Daehwi into a brotherly hug. “Sorry about that.”

“Your boyfriend is scary, hyung,” Daehwi whined. “How come you tolerate him, just like that?”

“He’s fiendishly good-looking,” Daniel explained. “Can’t exactly resist. Besides, he’s really good at, uhm… what he does best.”

Daniel blushed, angling his body away from Seongwoo to conceal his flustered expression, effectively hugging poor Daehwi even tighter to chest.

Can’t breathe, Daehwi thought. Why’s this guy so unessentially muscular, anyway?

 “You know what’s really scary?” Seongwoo interjected. “A certain Bae Jinyoung staring daggers our way. Don’t know about either of you, but I’m supremely disinterested in acquainting myself with the pad of Jinyoung’s foot if he charges us top-speed and greets our faces with a full-blitz flying-kick.”

Daehwi turned to Jinyoung, whose murderous gaze softened palpably upon the barest eye-contact between them.

You okay? Daehwi mouthed. Jinyoung smiled in return, nodding twice in reassurance.

“I get it now,” Daniel concluded, pushing Daehwi gently away. “He’s gotten jealous.”

“I don’t think he’s the jealous type,” Daehwi asserted. “And I’ve been corrected for getting jealous, once. How could he lecture me with a straight face on, if he can’t even practice what he’s preaching himself?”

“You know what they say,” Seongwoo shrugged. “The guiltiest of men are the first to point their fingers.”

Daehwi considered this for a small moment.

“Besides,” Seongwoo added. “It might be fun to rile him up for once, all things considered. Argue otherwise if you’d like, but he’s straight-edged by default and that can get boring.”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Daniel began, eyes wavering in observance of Seongwoo’s naughty expression. “Look, he’s already put on that face he wears whenever he’s scheming the ground-breakingly stupid.”

 “What’s all this about getting Jinyoung-hyung jealous?” Kuanlin spoke up, as he’d apparently wiretapped the discussion from behind them.

“Perfect timing, Kuanlin-ah,” Seongwoo exclaimed. “Scoot over this way, I’ve got something to tell you.”

For an awkward moment, Kuanlin and Seongwoo engaged themselves in a stare-down of heightened proportions, caught exclusively in wordless debate. Sure enough, Kuanlin folded eventually, plodding over to Seongwoo’s side unhurriedly. Seongwoo flashed him a triumphant grin, snaking an arm around his neck by the collar to whisper secretively into his ear.

 “Hyung, that’s…” Kuanlin began, trailing off the further he listened. “If I do that, I can guarantee you Jinyoung-hyung’s busting out his torch and his pitchfork.”

“That’s half the fun, isn’t it?” Seongwoo assured him, nudging his side by the elbow.

“Besides,” he added. “Daehwi stands firm on his assertion that Jinyoung isn’t of the sort to care. Why not prove it, then? Can’t have Jihoon over there hogging the attention now, can we?”

Kuanlin stared at his fingers, twiddling his thumbs rather skittishly together. “Now that you’ve mentioned it, I… I do wish they weren’t always together.”

“Mhmm,” Seongwoo murmured. “And remember, they have a couple name, and you don’t.”

Kuanlin’s ears perked up, caught hand and foot by Seongwoo’s painful reminder.

“Now that,” Kuanlin agreed. “Is entirely unacceptable.”

“Right,” Seongwoo exclaimed, humouring his dongsaeng unflaggingly. “So now that we’ve established—“

“Daehwi-ya!” Kuanlin interrupted. “Let’s go get some practice.” He staggered to his feet, pulling Daehwi along by the arm.

“W-wait a minute,” Daehwi protested. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to just—“

Before he could put the rest of his sentence into words, Kuanlin’s hands slid to his waist and to the back of his knees, sweeping him clean off his feet.

“Kuanlin-ah!” Daehwi exclaimed, circling both arms around Kuanlin’s neck. “Put… put me down, please.”

At that very instance, Daehwi’s eyes landed upon Jinyoung, who’d already gone slack-jawed in awe.

“What… what are you…” Jinyoung stammered, voice replete with displeasure as Kuanlin sashayed across the room, carrying Daehwi bridal-style in both arms. Jihoon relieved him of the video camera, sure he’d drop it and set them back a couple million won should his appendages go numb temporarily.

A burst of satisfaction ran through Daehwi at the sight of Jinyoung’s palpable envy. He chastised himself for it nonetheless, overcome with shame and guilt.

“If you promise to help me practice,” Kuanlin bargained. “I’ll do it.”

“I get it,” Daehwi acceded, a vibrant hue of pink suffusing both cheeks with a healthy, rosy glow.

Kuanlin offered him a gummy smile, the sight of it warming Daehwi’s heart with adoration.

“I’ll forgive you for that,” Jihoon declared. “If you tell Woojin I’m paying him back for ransacking my backpack and looting my food.”

“I didn’t do it,” Woojin argued lamely, crumbs from Jihoon’s mallow pie dotting his chin like overgrown stubble.

“Woojin-hyung,” Kuanlin called out, settling Daehwi onto the ground. “Jihoon-hyung’s paying you back for cleaning out his dessert stash.”

Woojin blinked at him, popping chocolate-stained fingers into his mouth. “So… does this mean I get more food?”

“You thief!” Jihoon shrieked, scrambling to his feet to chase Woojin out the room. “You traitorous, pot-bellied thief!”

They sprinted out the corridor one after the other, the sound of Woojin’s protest echoing from across the hallway.

“I have abs!” Daehwi heard him say. “And you should thank me for that. You’re on a strict non-dairy diet!”

Seongwoo let slip an entertained laugh, pleased entirely by Woojin’s side-splitting antics.

“Those two need a couple name,” he observed. “I christen them 2Park.” He brought the bag of chips to his lips, emptying the crumbs into his cavernous mouth.

“Don’t I get one?” Kuanlin sulked. “I feel cheated.”

“Your time will come,” Seongwoo assured him. “We save the best for last, after all.”

Daniel sighed defeatedly, sure at the onset of the pointlessness to Seongwoo’s childish tomfoolery.

 “We’re sorry, Jinyoung-ah,” Daniel spoke up. “Don’t get mad or jealous. Seongwoo’s at fault here for being irresponsible.”

“I’m not jealous,” Jinyoung countered, louder than was necessary. Daehwi studied his churlish expression, and how his fists trembled by way of self-restraint.

“What are they up to?” Daehwi whispered to himself. “Now even Daniel-hyung’s gotten caught up in Seongwoo-hyung’s juvenile antics.”

“Forgive them,” Kuanlin chuckled. “They think as one, these days.”

“Right. But… why’ve you carried me all the way over here?”

Both of them were standing by the wall parallel to the mirror, huddled in a corner away from everyone else.

“We need space,” Kuanlin explained. “The ‘Boy In Luv’ choreography does involve a lot of movement, if you recall.”

He pinched both of Daehwi’s cheeks affectionately. Daehwi cast a sideways glance Jinyoung’s way, half-expecting to see him still seething in rage. Instead, he was sitting rather peacefully by Jihoon’s side, eyes closed and palms resting at the knees.

Daehwi spent a solid five seconds on figuring out if he’d been doing yoga, communing with spirits, or perhaps even attempting to attain nirvana.

“It’s inner peace restoration,” Kuanlin suggested. “A brilliant idea. I’d hate to be on the receiving end of a martial artist’s unchecked temper, after all.”

He retrieved the sheet of paper he’d pocketed within the folds of his sweater, neat scribbles dotting its margins in abundance.

“And I’m not sure if I should be saying this…” Kuanlin added. “But I kind of noticed how lost you’ve been looking as of late.”

Daehwi peered into his eyes, conscious of how they regarded him with concern.

As if you’re hiding, they seemed to say. Holding frustration at bay beneath a guise of understanding.

“Ah,” Daehwi exclaimed. “So you’ve noticed.”

“I do that too,” Kuanlin explained. “Takes one to know one.”

Daehwi tilted his head slightly to the side. “Do what?”

“Play charades. Pretend as if nothing’s wrong. Attempt to shoulder the burden alone, despite the help available.”

Daehwi knotted his fingers together. “Pretense comes a lot easier than having to admit I’m severely lacking.”

Not with this much at stake, he thought.

Not if admitting to the barest shortcoming is succumbing to the oppressor shoving my weakness down my throat.

“Hyung,” Kuanlin said, addressing him in a way he’d never once done before. “Did you ever stop to think that you’re wrong in leaving your sense of self to the likes of other people?”

Daehwi blinked, unsure of what to say.

“My sense of self… From other people?”

Kuanlin nodded, smiling heartily at him. “If you listen less to what others have to say and more to the standards you’ve set for yourself, it starts becoming much less difficult for you to do the things that matter. And by that, I mean the things you really want to do, as opposed to whatever it is your peers have come to expect of you.”

Kuanlin reached out towards him, combing through his hair with gentle of his fingers.

“That’s how you’ve managed to overcome them, right?” he continued. “Those people who’ve given you torment. That’s why you’ve decided to apply for this school. For you to shine, excel, be in your element for once. For you to prove all the skeptics wrong.”

For a moment, Daehwi wondered if he’d unwittingly leaked the shameful details on his youth, and if so if he’d done it under the influence of alcohol.

“You… you know of them?” Daehwi asked, incredulous. “Those bullies I encountered in middle school?”

“Not really,” Kuanlin admitted. “Though I might’ve heard of them from Jinyoung-hyung.”

Daehwi’s eyes widened into full-on saucers. “How come he knows about them? I’ve never even…”

Kuanlin shrugged, flashing him an impish grin. “Beats me. Think of the things you might've said to him that one time you'd gotten drunk.”

He stood himself up, walking over to his backpack to swipe it from the cubby hole. He reached into its depths, retrieving a handful of snacks he’d prepared.

“Here you go,” he said, handing over a box of Daehwi’s favorite cookie sticks. “I know you like these best since they remind you of home.”

Daehwi accepted Kuanlin’s thoughtful offering, smiling ‘till his cheeks hurt at the kindness in his gesture.

If only, Kuanlin-ah, he thought. If only I’d met you sooner.

“Thank you,” Daehwi said. “I have been a little down in the dumps, now that you’ve mentioned it. This song’s proven more problematic than I’ve first been expecting, but having you around really does lighten the load.”

“Careful, now,” Kuanlin warned. “If Jinyoung-hyung heard you, he’d misunderstand.”

“He won’t mind,” Daehwi responded. “And both of us are roommates, he knows you and I do lots of skinship.”

“Then why do I feel like a dartboard, with someone out there fixated on the bullseye?” Kuanlin shot a split-second glance at Jinyoung, who turned away instantly after getting caught staring.

“Cute,” Daehwi giggled. “He’s looking this way.”

“Quite obviously so,” Kuanlin agreed, side-eyeing Daehwi provocatively. “You seem happy.”

Daehwi blushed, perturbed by the fact that even the barest, least discernible of details could scarcely even escape Kuanlin’s hawk-eyed notice.

“Shh,” he whispered. “Keep it under wraps while l savor the moment.”

“Should we practice, then?” Kuanlin suggested. “The rest of them are on break, so…”

“We can toggle with the music ourselves,” Daehwi supplied. “Sounds like a plan.”

He and Kuanlin made their way to the Bluetooth speakers they’d set up, hitting reset in order to connect their own devices.

“I heard you’re working on the rap after Woojin’s,” Daehwi exclaimed. “Need any help with the arrangement? I can offer my expertise, if you’d like.”

Kuanlin grinned at him delightedly, unfurling the page he’d scribbled onto.

“So for this part I was thinking…” he began.

Both of them launched into an extensive discussion regarding Kuanlin’s revised lyrics. Having been the most experienced amongst them in terms of composition and songwriting, Kuanlin had chosen Daehwi as a mentor of sorts in helping him prepare for his solo breakdown. They practiced his lines a couple of times in succession, and only then did Daehwi notice how vastly improven Kuanlin’s enunciation had become.

Despite this, however, rapping entirely in Korean was a feat Kuanlin had yet to get used to, so they decided to play it a bit safer this time around and have him rap the first line in English.

“Perfect,” Daehwi remarked, after what might’ve been the twentieth do-over. “You’re good to go, Kuanlin-ah.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Kuanlin exclaimed. “You’re the best.”

He hugged Daehwi to himself, Daehwi giggling in the warmth of his embrace.

Seconds later, something bonked against the top of Kuanlin’s skull, jerking them away from each other.

“Ouch,” Kuanlin exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head to soothe the short-lived biting sensation. “Jinyoung-hyung, that hurt!”

“Sorry,” Jinyoung exclaimed, wearing the least apologetic expression known to man. “I forgot to call out your name.”

Daehwi squatted by the area Jinyoung’s toy had crash-landed, probing the miniature contraption between his fingers.

“Is this a fidget cube?” he wondered out loud. “It’s the gift I gave Kuanlin for his birthday.”

“I’m returning it,” Jinyoung exclaimed. “I’m less fidgety now than I am utterly beleaguered.”

“Big words,” Kuanlin remarked. “I think it means ‘jealous’.”

“No,” Daehwi pouted. “It means, ‘I’m callous and immature and it’s wrong for me to hit other people’.”

He cast Jinyoung a surly look, clucking in disappointment.

Jinyoung turned away, hurt and confusion passing briefly through his features.

“I’m sorry,” he frowned. “I should never have done that.”

“It’s alright,” Kuanlin replied. “I’ll be more careful around your boyfriend next time.”

“Sure,” Jinyoung said. “But I think you… wait. Boyfriend?”

“Break’s over!” Jisung announced, cutting their discourse short.

A shame, Daehwi thought. I rather liked the embarrassed expression.

Jisung called them over to gather round in circles, for them to discuss the transitions and rework the choreography. Daehwi sauntered over to his water bottle, rereading Kuanlin’s notes as he walked. After having taken a meager sip, he trudged absent-mindedly past everyone, lost entirely in thought.

Moments later he collided head-on with solid mass, the scent of Bae Jinyoung’s signature perfume assailing his senses. He looked up in surprise, and discovered that Jinyoung had, in fact, planted himself in the space between Kuanlin and the path he was traversing to get there.

“Where are you going?” Jinyoung asked, eyebrows scrunching attractively together.

“Over to Kuanlin,” Daehwi replied, struggling not to lower his gaze from Jinyoung’s eyes to his lips. “I have questions to ask. Lots of them.”

Jinyoung sighed, inching casually forwards. “Can’t I answer them, instead?”

Daehwi released the breath he’d been holding.

Why am I like this? Daehwi thought. I can’t even think straight when he’s near.

“If you can perform Kuanlin’s rap break,” Daehwi spoke up. “Then sure, I guess.”

“Ugh,” Jinyoung groaned. “I can’t rap to save my life.”

Daehwi stole a glance at him, hampered by his stubborn curiosity.

“Jinyoung-ah,” he began. “You aren’t jealous of him, are you?”

Jinyoung froze, gaze falling to the floor. He scratched the back of his neck agitatedly, and Daehwi wondered how even a gesture so mundane could be so unbearably attractive.

“Jealous…” Jinyoung began. “Why… why would I be?” He inserted both hands into his pockets, shrugging almost offhandedly. “There isn’t any reason for that.”

Daehwi pursed both lips together, a struggle to downplay the rapid surge of disappointment.

“Oh,” Daehwi said. “Well, I guess you’re right.”

“Are we complete?” Jisung asked, scanning through their faces. “If so, we need to—“

He paused mid-sentence, eyeing the gaping hole in their oblique formation.

“When I said gather in a circle,” Jisung said. “I meant in an enclosed circle. Daehwi-ya, Jinyoung-ah. Quit standing three feet apart.”

Daehwi turned away, unsure of how to respond. He shuffled sideways, unable to calibrate Jinyoung’s current stream of thought.

Have I angered him? He thought. Or was I right the entire time?

Jisung groaned, already impatient. “Look here, kids. If you’re in the middle of a lover’s quarrel, then I suggest you—“

At that precise moment, Jinyoung yanked at Daehwi’s arm, pulling him forwards, into his arms, and into a full, and shameless kiss.

Daehwi’s eyes widened into saucers, or maybe into plates. He had no idea, because the only things he could think of were Jinyoung’s lips, the way he tasted, and how desperately he’d been missing the both of them.

Jisung breathed in audibly as Jinyoung pulled away. “You… Did you just…”

“You were saying?” Jinyoung challenged. “No problems here.”

The rest of them broke into thunderous applause, Seongwoo looking for all his worth like the proudest father in the world.

“Smooth, Jinyoung-ah,” he exclaimed, beaming with pride. “You’ve got more spirit than I gave you credit for.”

“Now channel your mental state into the song,” Minhyun suggested, still grinning himself. “Impress Jisung before he’s stark raving mad.”

“Got it,” Jinyoung and Daehwi said in unison. “Impress Jisung-hyung it is.”

Jisung sighed in defeat, the makings of a smile tugging his lips at the corners.

“Give me no less than your best, you hear me?” he said. “We’re back to practice, boys.”

Practice ended at precisely 7:35 P.M.

They’d rehearsed through the song more times than Daehwi could be bothered to count, and before they knew it, the sun had set in the west, all of them drained almost entirely of energy.

Daehwi had gone on bathroom break before departing for home. He washed the grime away at the sink, alarmed by how murky the waters had gone as they cascaded in rivulets down the planes of his face. Afterwards, he changed out of his sweat-drenched clothes and into a fresh set of jeans and a T-shirt, combing lightly through unkempt hair with the tips of his fingers.

Jinyoung was waiting by the door for him to leave, so he flung the straps of his bag over his shoulder, scuttling hurriedly out of the bathroom.

If he’d been any less careful, he would’ve bumped into Yoon Taejoon.

Literally.

Taejoon was standing by the door to his cubicle, taken aback by Daehwi’s presence.

He’s startled, Daehwi thought. Guess he wasn’t expecting me.

Daehwi side-stepped out of the way, snapshots of their previous encounter flashing through memory.

I wonder if his nuts are working, Daehwi pondered at random. And I wonder if he’ll ask for compensation.

Just as he was about to reach for the door, Taejoon’s right arm crossed over his shoulder, keeping him from sliding through the exit.

Daehwi’s heart hammered in his chest, eyes darting to and fro in search of an alternative.

“Daehwi-ya,” Taejoon spoke up. “We need to talk.”

“We’ve got nothing to talk about,” Daehwi argued, feeling distinctly as if he’d suffocate if Taejoon lingered a second more in his presence. “Now if you’ll excuse me—“

“Please,” Taejoon implored. “It’ll take but a minute.”

The strain in his voice caught Daehwi off-guard, as it spoke volumes of a weakness he’d long thought Taejoon utterly devoid of.

He turned his head sideways, addressing the space between Taejoon and the door. “What do you want?”

“Time,” Taejoon replied. “For us to talk things through. Perhaps tomorrow, if you’d like. After final rehearsals are over.”

Daehwi could hardly even grasp what he was hearing.

Talk? He thought. Since when have you preferred negotiation to blunt physical restraint?

“I’m listening,” he said anyway. “You say a talk. What for? If you think words are better suited to persuasion, then I’m afraid you’ve misjudged the situation. I’m not leaving Jinyoung for you.”

He expected recoil, perhaps even for Taejoon to raise a hand against him.

Daehwi’s guileless, bitter words, however, were met only with the emptiness of silence.

“I’m sorry,” Daehwi whispered, body still facing the door. “I can’t even bear to look at you.”

“Then don’t,” Taejoon said. “You don’t have to. Tomorrow, however… I’ll wish for things to change.”

“Why…” he faltered. “Why do this now?”

“I want closure. And for you to understand.”

“And after that? Are you leaving me alone?”

“If that's what you want, then fine by me.”

Daehwi’s hands fisted at his sides, and it was all he could do keep himself under control.

You should have said this, Daehwi thought. Before you threatened to take me by force.

Despite everything, however, more than resentment and more than regret, Daehwi’s heart yearned for the one thing he’d long since resolved to let go.

Reconciliation.

Forgiveness.

For them to return to the very beginning, before Taejoon devolved into the shadow of the person—the friend—he’d been just a month ago.

“If you can promise to give me space,” Daehwi whispered. “Then fine by me. Have it your way.”

He made for the exit before his plight could sink in, before the weight of his own words could shut him down and leave him defenseless. Instead, the door swung open of its own accord, Jinyoung greeting him as he stood in the doorway.

He’d been wondering what had taken Daehwi so long.

“Daehwi-ya, aren’t you done yet?” he asked. “I’ve been waiting for—“

His eyes found Taejoon then, and instantly his countenance morphed into displeasure.

“You again?” he demanded. “Haven’t I made it clear that I’ve lost tolerance for all of your doltish party tricks?”

He moved into Daehwi’s space, but instead of letting him charge past, Daehwi held fast to his wrist and his forearm, giving him a gentle shake of the head.

“Stop,” Daehwi pleaded. “Don’t, Jinyoung-ah.”

“D-Daehwi-ya…” Jinyoung began, heated gaze mellowing distinctly.

“It’s alright,” Daehwi assuaged. “This time around… he did nothing wrong.”

His fingers sought Jinyoung’s for warmth, as if to anchor to them for support.

“We should leave,” he whispered, striding promptly the open door. “The others are waiting for us at the lobby.”

He gave Jinyoung’s arm a sharp tug, wrenching it almost out of its socket. He staggered through the exit and broke into a jog, in no mood for meandering about where Taejoon still lingered in ballpark proximity.

Once they arrived at the lobby, they found the rest of Group One on standby. For reasons unknown, however, the vestibule of Pledis Studio felt less of an arrival area than a bolted enclosure, and the longer Daehwi idled about, the more he felt like a jailbird held prisoner.

The journey home felt much the same way.

Daehwi’s hands had gone clammy by the time they arrived, though he never would’ve noticed had Jinyoung refused to let them go.

 “I’m sorry, Jinyoung-ah,” Daehwi began. “I never meant to frighten you.”

Jinyoung gave him a curt nod, eyes beset with worry. Daehwi reached for his shirtsleeve then, tugging gingerly at the folds.

“I had no idea,” he explained. “No inkling at all. If I’d known he was in the same building, then I never would’ve—“

“Are you hurt?” Jinyoung interrupted. “Tell me, Daehwi-ya. Where did he touch you?”

Daehwi’s mouth fell open, unsure of his next move. He’d run his spiel through beforehand, laying the groundwork for the best possible excuse.

I never thought I’d run into him.

I’ve already talked him into leaving, but it’s come to no avail.

If he’s changed for the better, can’t I agree to a confrontation?

It’s my fault, Jinyoung-ah. I should’ve kept my mouth sewn shut.