Every memory of Minghao Xu is incredibly… vague.

         Everything from his weird nickname to facts about him. Everything is a little blurry around the edges; hazy, if you will. After all, it was ten years ago. But there are some things that Mingyu remembers so clearly, like how he effortlessly backflipped over three people at a pep-rally junior year, making the crowd scream and earning them the spirit stick for homecoming (the seniors weren’t thrilled that year). He’s the kind of person who excels in the spotlight. It was the only time Mingyu had seen his dancing up close.

         Normally, he would have watched with half his attention on his phone from up in the stands. He usually sat at the top or far to the right where the rest of his friends and the rest of the football team would sit, whooping incessantly for everyone in their year.  Sporting kids and the decidedly popular kids usually took the center of the bleachers while everyone else sat around them. Mingyu was the soccer MVP, track-and-field super star, and had more than a handful of friends in the starting string for football which is why he sits with them. 

         A lot of kids, Minghao included, wouldn’t even show up to rallies, but since he performed he had to be there and Minghao isn’t the type to pass-up a minute in the spotlight. During the homecoming rally, Mingyu was on the court. They held all their school-wide rallies in the Big Gym. The one with the newly-redone basketball courts, the smell of wood polish still in the air. Each year had their own wall, the seniors taking the nicest set of bleachers front and center while the freshmen sat opposite to them on the floor or on crappy fold-out metal bleachers. Sophomores and juniors took the bleachers on the side, but the main stage for whatever performances or speeches would face the seniors. But, yes, Mingyu was on the floor, standing on some weird people-drawn carriage made of plywood and recycled bike wheels, wearing a ridiculous costume with wolf ears and tail.

         Homecoming was weird. The theme this year was to be ‘the supernatural’. His female counterpart also sported the same wolf ears and tail and it was hard for them to stand still without scratching at their itchy, discount costumes, both complaining and laughing about it between stages. They’d already done their introductions and laps for junior homecoming prince and princess candidates. When the dance club came out they killed the lights. Everyone whipped out their cellphones and screamed, waving the lit screens in the air. It was a hot event for the small-town high school. And when the spotlights came on, the thirteen dancers stood with Minghao Xu leading them from the center, Mingyu thought his heart would stop.

         The music was so loud they could hear static in the crappy gym speakers and the drama kids had a hard time following the dancers with the spotlight rigs. Mingyu didn’t even like EDM, but here he was, absolutely enraptured in the performance. They flipped, they popped, they krumped, they… well, Mingyu doesn’t know that many dance terms, but they wowed the audience.

         By the bridge, Minghao had left center-stage to take his place in the dark, in the sidelines, trusting his team to carry the performance without him. A small group of them struck a pose in the spotlight and just as the music cut off and fell silent before the drop, Minghao ran out of the dark and sprang into a hands-free backflip over them, twisting in the air and landing on his knees with a dramatic slide just as the bass shook the building. For the fraction of a second where he was weightless, the gym held a collective breath, Mingyu included. Everyone’s screaming too loud. The crowd was too hyped. It was a great closing performance, outshining everything else and was to be talked about for the next few days which was a great deal of time for high school gossip.

         But everything surrounding that event fell foggy.

         It’s as if that one shining moment occupied a space in time and all else fell into the background; out of focus and lost.

         He’s sure that Minghao got a few date proposals from peers, underclassmen, and seniors alike. He was soft and cute and undoubtedly charismatic on the dancefloor, but (as he had heard through the grapevine) he had turned all of them down. It was then that an interesting rumor popped up.

         After the cafeteria incident later that year, Mingyu suddenly became hyper aware of Minghao.

         The ASB president had essentially begged the dance team to perform at every single rally since homecoming their junior year because the upbeat performances drew in students that often skipped out, earning them a heated rivalry with the performing arts club who normally occupied the finale performance. Mingyu can guess that’s where the rumor might have catalyzed. Drama kids love drama and the elegant and unassuming leader of the dance team was a prime target.

         He feels silly for playing their game.

         He regrets it.

         And, now, he regrets not sleeping enough hours because it’s 8:30 and he’s going to be late for work.

         Friday passes without anything to note. He gets to go home after lunch because his 2 o’clock cancelled last minute. The importance of bingo to the elderly baffles him.

         “When you’re old and alone, a bingo hall is probably the best company you’ll have.” Wonwoo shrugs as he packs up the papers from his last patient. He still has half a day to wade through, Mingyu’s ready to go home. He’s surprised Wonwoo is in today, having expected him to just take over Jeonghan’s schedule. Wonwoo says he’s working this Friday because Soonyoung has some sort of unplanned make-up class.

         For those of you wondering, Mingyu’s been in the lead for the fist-fight voting. He’s a little proud of that although it’s not much to brag about. He already looks bigger and stronger than Wonwoo. It’s no secret that he’d probably win, but Joshua and Wonwoo won’t take his bets just yet.

         “Your patients are just voting for you and because they don’t really know Wonwoo yet you’ve been stealing his votes. Just give him a week or two.”

         “Who did Minghao vote for?” It’s Wonwoo who asks, not Mingyu. The latter is baffled. The audacity the new guys as-

         Joshua thinks for a minute, “Oh, he voted for you.”

         “Really?”

         “Yeah. When I asked, he said it was because Mingyu’s a big softie and would probably cry if he ever got into a fight.” Wow. Rude. What the hell, Minghao, “I’d have to agree. You would cry if Wonwoo actually wanted to throw-down.”

         “Would not.”

         Wonwoo just pats Mingyu on the shoulder and laughs as he makes his way to his next appointment.

         Monday and Tuesday roll around, again without much event. It’s the same clients as last week for Mingyu, Wonwoo has a couple new ones since he told Joshua he could take a bigger work load and to not be shy offering him patients since Seokmin’s been struggling to keep his grades up while working. Wonwoo’s the type to like staying busy. They go out for lunch together, walking across the street and a few blocks to come into an area where several local restaurants are lined up, each with their own charm. Monday is pizza, Tuesday is gyros. They talk about random topics, usually about their pasts and their college experiences. Occasionally, they dip into pop gossip or politics, but neither of those topics are really that interesting and they don’t watch enough TV to be in the know. Mingyu doesn’t go to the movies, a trait picked up from when money wasn’t so abundant, so he just waits for things to come out online or on Netflix. By that time, they’re usually out of the mainstream. Wonwoo’s not much better off. He doesn’t really care for movies unless they have upstanding reviews and the rolls of film that came out this season are under par.

         On Wednesday they decide to arm wrestle in the breakroom, deciding to take a break from delicious restaurants in fear that Wonwoo will grow tired of them too quickly. Wonwoo eats leftovers from his dinner last night and Mingyu’s left eating instant noodles (with a couple slices of pork cutlet that Wonwoo spares out of pity). Normally, Mingyu’s all for healthy meal-prep at the beginning of the week, but since he’d arranged to go out with Wonwoo on Monday and Tuesday, he decided not to do the whole shabbang and just pack snacks. However, the snack that he did pack today was unfortunately left on his counter in his rush to get to work on time for his 9 o’clock appointment.

         Wonwoo wins the arm wrestling match.

         He lets the younger off easy, not rubbing it in his face since it seems that Mingyu’s already having a rough day with his second and third clients falling into old habits and forgetting to do their exercises. “You must be starved weak.” He jokes dryly, looking back to his phone between spoons of food.

         “Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Mingyu debates if he wants to drink the sodium-loaded soup base. It’s tempting. The last time he had instant noodles was probably his freshman year in college before he could afford very many meal points. Having gotten a job on campus after first semester afforded him a healthy freshman fifteen and a few more pounds to boot from the gym.

         The breakroom is quiet aside from the printer-fax machine that sounds off every now and then. He wonders why Joshua doesn’t just keep it at the front desk. He said it’s because the noise will bug the radiology nerds, but it’s really because there was a time that Old Man Perelman—who has a bad back and neck sores—came in and talked his ear off about it for three hours. He always had something to complain about. Jeonghan’s then-shoulder-length hair was a constant slew of negative comments. Perelman stopped coming a month ago after Jeonghan got a fresh ear-length haircut for his vacation. They’re not sure if it’s because he’s better or because he’s dead. The running joke at that time was that Jeonghan had enough and murdered him; his hair was lost in the fray. Mingyu decided a while ago to not care.

         He takes a sip. Ah, holy MSG goodness.

         “One time, when I was in high school, I almost broke my coccyx from sitting on a skateboard and getting pushed down the street.” He’s not sure what compels Wonwoo to share the random fact, “So my back hurts on occasion. Sometimes you can’t fix people all the way.”

         “Are you trying to tell me something?”

         “Not really, just scrolling through Facebook reading stupid quotes my uncles keep posting makes me think sometimes. A lot of old people seem oddly driven to fix their pasts,” he turns his attention to Mingyu, “I think it’s much more efficient to create a future you don’t have to apologize for.”

         Thursday comes around.

         A day that Mingyu has recently dubbed the worst and most dubious day of the week. When he asks Wonwoo out for lunch, the older is quick to apologize for his last-minute change in plans.

         “Soonyoung got cancelled on, so I agreed to go out for a lunch date. It’s been a while since we’ve had one, I hope you don’t mind.” His eyes say that his apology was in earnest, so Mingyu can’t stay mad at him. Besides, Minghao is his last appointment of the day. He can hold out for another two hours. He’s wanted to try the new Thai place that opened up on 2^nd Street a few days ago, but hasn’t found time.

         “That’s fine. Try to focus on eating lunch instead of face.” He tests the waters. He doesn’t actually know that much about Wonwoo’s relationship with Soonyoung, just that they fight a lot, but not seriously and that they like to push each other’s buttons.

         “Nah, I’ll probably eat equal parts face and lunch.” Wonwoo laughs as they walk out to the lobby. At least he didn’t give him a bad reaction, “In all seriousness, guacamole probably doesn’t taste that great eaten off someone’s face. I’d much prefer it on chips.”

         “Stay safe, kid.” Joshua coos absentmindedly as Wonwoo leaves the building, tossing his employee badge behind the counter and leaving his cardigan behind. The weather is nice and toasty today. A welcome change in pace from the breezy afternoons they’d been having in the valley. Wonwoo looks more handsome without his cardigan anyway, “Mingyu,” his attention snaps towards the manager after seeing Wonwoo step into his car, “Minghao called and said he might be a few minutes late, so you could probably grab some lunch and make it back in time.”

         “I think I’ll just take a nap in the break room.” and that he does.

         His nights have been horrible at home; spent tossing and turning and sometimes his body wakes him up as the sun rises just like it did back in school. Mingyu regularly likes to sleep as much as he can, normally from 10 until 8. It’s the only way to feel rested. He’s not sure how he pulled off three-hour nights back in high school during finals week or even went a couple days without solid REM when it came to college finals. All he knows is that now, as a real adult, he can’t make do with less than nine hours and recently he hasn’t been able to fall asleep until well-past midnight.

         Last night was the worst so far.

         He had pulled out a yearbook from his sophomore year and just gotten lost in it.

         He doesn’t have one from freshman year. His family was too poor at the time to afford one, but he was lucky enough sophomore year that a friend that worked in yearbook spared him an extra copy. He didn’t get it signed or anything, he left it at home most days since finals were what ate most of his attention. He signed at least a hundred yearbooks that year, but there wasn’t a single H.A.G.S. in his. Mingyu wasn’t sure what he was looking for outside of laughing at the funny picture they put of Shinwoo half-way through a tennis serve that became infamous that summer and spent a healthy amount of time online as a viral meme. But then he found Minghao’s headshot almost at the very end of the sophomore section. He was wearing a light blue flannel over a white t-shirt with his hair a light brown and almost long enough to cover his eyes. Mingyu can tell that the photographer told him to push his hair to the side because the middle-part looks ridiculous and unnatural. His picture was different from the others, but not the only one of its kind.

         Kids that missed picture day at the beginning of the year had their pictures taken in passing, usually in the hallway. So, instead of the normal blue-grey background and photo-booth lights, Minghao and a few others had the brick background of the library stuck behind their heads with light carding through their hair and washing out their faces a bit, forcing them to squint in the sun. He thinks this is the last time that Minghao had black hair. A few weeks after he transferred, he dyed it red. Not the best picture, in fact probably the worst picture Minghao’s ever had in a yearbook.

         He’s still mad that Minghao got so hot.

         It’s amazing what braces, a haircut, and puberty can do to someone.

         His phone chirps five minutes before 1. Not a wink. He didn’t get to sleep at all.

         Mingyu stretches and yawns before washing his face in the breakroom sink, careful not to get his button-up wet. These days it’s been getting a little chilly and he’s ready for sweater weather. He might even pull out his old letterman.

         When he comes into the lobby, Joshua looks up from his computer, “No nap, I see.”

         “Don’t get me started.” Despite not getting any sleep, it’s heavy in his voice. Laying on a too-small couch in a catatonic state does that to you sometimes. He can hear himself deflate.

         “Well, finish off Minghao quickly and get home to nap.” He winces at Joshua’s choice of words. Plus, he can’t go home just yet, he has some errands to run and bills to write up and pay.

         Said man is just pulling up in the parking lot, but the car he’s riding in passes several parking spaces. Oh, a drop off. The person that drops Minghao off is some gloriously beautiful man who also appears to be in his mid-twenties, black hair styled nicely in a coif without a strand out of place. They seem to be exchanging words as Minghao steps out and points to the clinic. There’s a lot of pointing happening. Maybe an argument. Mingyu can’t tell. But he’s pretty and something in Mingyu itches, makes him shift the weight between his feet and chew on his lower lip. The manager makes some off remark about the scowl that Mingyu quickly wipes off his face with a cough.

         Is this envy or jealousy?