Kyungsoo sat in his seat, manoeuvring over math formulas, projecting them onto the white walls. However, the chattering interferes with his reasoning, and breaking away from it, he stumbles back to reality. Wendy and Chanyeol are talking about forming a band. Absorbed in joy, Wendy’s ponytail danced and Chanyeol taps out the rhythm. Kyungsoo realises that they are entering the realm of hope — district talent show in December, where their personal dreams shine out of the public spotlights. Watching their passion bubbles out of their words brings Kyungsoo peace so resting his head on his hand, ears dreamily catch on and glow of sun hazily fades, Kyungsoo hums a ballad and his mind meanders back to math. The confusing phenomenon he observed ages ago becomes apparent. He quietly scribbles down the steps and checks closely for mistakes. When all is settled, Kyungsoo breathes out his excitement and inhales relief. When Chanyeol asks him what is it, Kyungsoo giddily says, ‘single-slit light diffraction and grating light diffraction. Some hypothesises on differences and I proved some right and some wrong. I am going to the library and see if there is any official proof.’ Though Chanyeol barely understands anything as he has never seen such a thing, if it is even a ‘thing’, he simply enjoys basking in happiness with Kyungsoo. Chanyeol wonders if Kyungsoo notices even the imperceptible, the slight vibration from air-conditioners, the change in colour on their cheeks, the secrets in hushed wind, with his twitching ears, his big eyes, and the meticulous-calculating mind, no wonder under his tired eyes, there are dark ripples. Chanyeol likes Kyungsoo better when he is laughing, his heart-shaped lips open up, the tension drained out of his body, and relax into breathlessness, eyes lighting up into crescent moons, and when his solitary friend is part of the group.

Class starts, clock ticks, and class is over. Recess starts in the basket-ball field. Girls leisure in the sunlight, boys break a sweat, noise runs loose in the open space. Kyungsoo sits in the warm shade, decides to have a taste of sweet air before suffocating himself with double history lessons. Apparently, everybody on the field feels the same. Kyungsoo breaths in the fragrance of grass and watches on, the lychee tree bearing bright-red fruits, a badminton trapped in the leaves. He leaves the field two minutes prior to next class. 

Class starts, time flies, and school is over. The field is instantly full of people, their shoes squeak as they rush for the ball, shouting and waving simultaneously, to distract passengers, Kyungsoo observes as he passes by. He was home and he was gone, clutching a grocery list written by mum. The playground next to the grocery shop is filled with kids, screaming as they run away from each other, some hiding in the short bushes, pinching their noses to hold their breath. Kyungsoo shudder when he walk into the wall of cold air, the silence in the supermarket reminds him of library, except this smells like strawberries. He shuffles through aisles of dairy and gets a cartoon of milk. The library-like silence was soon interrupted by urgent calls of supermarket manger. 

‘I need someone to put this box of corn on the racks! Quick! Is the newbie available?’

‘Coming!’ 

A voice so familiar, it is almost palpable, when the face emerges from the huddle of grey, Kyungsoo stops, caught off guard, and hides behind an aisle. The manager left as another problem occurred in the fruit section. The boxes and boxes of corn again reminds Kyungsoo of exam paper accumulating in a corner, forming a brown knoll, rotting away. Decides that he has time to spare, Kyungsoo greets Chanyeol. 

‘Hey, Chanyeol,’

‘Oh! Hi! Hyung! Buying milk?’

‘Yeah, I guess, along with a bunch of things,’

Flows a silence while Kyungsoo helps Chanyeol to arrange the corns. 

‘Hyung. I can take care of this, go do your grocery.’

Kyungsoo does not answer but instead asks a question, ‘why are you not home?’

‘Some financial problems. Plus, this job is comfy,’ Chanyeol laughs his goofy laugh to prove his last statement.

‘You can apply scholarship?’

‘Not smart enough, what can I say? Only rich kids get time to study like a maniac and get good grades.’

‘Nah, they waste them on the field.’

‘Wait til final exams, wanna bet?’

‘You idiot, but how about the talent show?’

‘It is not a stable income, pays too little, plus, there is no guarantee we would win,’

‘You will win, I am surer about that than 1+1=2. I heard that you sell your original melodies?’