A/N: Maybe has some mistakes.  If you're one of those people that like listening to music as you're reading, feel free to press the '+' link. 

01:  That Sunday Where Everything Changes On a Tuesday

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It was a Sunday when his father told him the news.

“…I know this is hard, I know this difficult but you are telling me its okay. I should’ve told you earlier but you didn’t seem to mind and…Myungsoo. You’re a good son. Perhaps the best any parent would have.”

His dad smiled but he was worried. Worried that Myungsoo would eventually regret his decision and make his life a living hell later. Worried that he’ll hate his fiancé, and run away. Myungsoo rolled his eyes and gave a little smile to his father.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Oh no no, I should be thanking you. And Myungsoo?”

Myungsoo raised his eyebrows.

“Talk to me. If anything. Okay?”

He stared at his father and his usual face settled in. “I’m just happy for you.”

“I know that.” his father adds quickly. “Just speak to me if you feel any sort of way. If you feel that something isn’t right, let me know. Okay?”

Myungsoo nods slowly.

His father looks at him and smiles, “She has a son.”

It takes him a couple of seconds to grasp that, and it’s obvious because he sits up a bit. A little brother, a little brother—he could already see himself gripping his hair in frustration. But Myungsoo says, even through all of these feelings—“Oh?”

“He’s a year younger than you.”

“He’ll be rooming with me?”

His father gives him an apprehensive look and nods. “Is that okay, son?”

Myungsoo smiles and scratches his neck. “What’s his name?”

“Lee Sungjong.”

“That’s a nice name.”

Myungsoo watches his father break out a smile, watches him slump-- letting go of the weight of his shoulders—as if that whole piece of information could’ve thrown Myungsoo’s agreement out the window. “He’s very cute, I’m sure you guys will get comfortable with each other.”

He nods. “I’m sure we will,” and then after moment, “When are they coming?”

“Tuesday.”

“What time?”

His father waves his hand Don’t fuss About it, he says. “You’ll be in school when they come in.”

Myungsoo nods again. “Okay.”

Myungsoo wakes up the next morning to find his father leaving his room.

He looks to his side and finds a new bed lying next to his.

He sits up slowly and groggily rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

It’s much later in the day. It’s lunch.

He sips his milk and looks over to find his Sungyeol walking around in thought.

“So,” Myungsoo hears him say. “Let me get this straight. You’re going to have a step-brother, from the chick your dad is all over—and you’re okay with this? And never mind that—you’re actually having a stepmom.”

“Yeah.” He says calmly.

“But—Myungsoo--- your mom? Like—what happened? Isn’t she coming back? I mean, this isn’t the first time your dad has done this. I would think she’d be already back now.” Sungyeol sits beside him.

Myungsoo sighs, “No. She really left this time.”

“Like. Really left?”

“Like really left.”

“Like really left left?”

Myungsoo pauses after taking another sip. “Yeah.”

“Ah man, this is so mest up…What are you going to do? Crash at my place then?”

“No, I said I’m okay with this.”

Sungyeol crosses his legs and stares at him.

“I am.” Myungsoo looks at him. “Really.”

Sungyeol raises an eyebrow and Myungsoo huffs. “Wouldn’t you get used to it if you were me…” he looks away.

“Yeah but—man, that’s your mom.”

“Yeah. Well. Not anymore.”

Sungyeol sighs and takes his drink.

“Hey—“

“Shh, I’m hungry.”

Now Sungyeol really didn’t give a damn. All he had was Myungsoo’s milk—it wasn’t his fault his stomach decided to give him the hardest of times. It wasn’t his fault his hand decided to reach out for the pocket of his pants, pulling out a granola bar and eating it in front the teacher’s face. Wasn’t his fault the teacher was allergic to bananas. Who told him to smell it?

“You smell like banana.” Myungsoo whispered as Sungyeol got up from his desk, leaving the classroom.

Before he did though, he turned around and flicked a finger—earning another shout from his professor.

He reached the office, slumping on a chair.

“I want to kill myself.” He murmured. 

The lady at the desk stopped typing and stared at him.

“What?” he said.

She continued staring at him. “Is that why you’re here again?”

“No.“

“Because the Guidance Department is downstairs.”

“I’m aware of that—“

The lady continued typing. He stared at her in disbelief before pulling out his granola bar again—taking an angry bite.

“Where’s the principal?” his mouth is full and he does it on purpose when the lady looks at him in disgust. “Where is he?”

“Attending a new student.”

“We’re getting a transfer? What for?”

“Can you close your mouth?”

More bits of granola spittle on the carpet, “Who would want to come to this school?”

The lady turns her body full to him. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t—“

The Principal’s door opens suddenly, revealing none other than the man himself. Sungyeol gets up, hiding his granola bar. “Sir, I can explain. You see, Myungsoo was giving me food and sir, let me add that he shoved it to my hands so when the Professor turned I was screwed and--”

A boy steps from behind the principal and Sungyeol wants to scream bloody murder because holy , how much can a boy look like a girl jesus ingchrist—

The boy smiles at him before sitting down next to his vacant chair. Sungyeol blinks.

“I’ll be right back to attending you, Sungjong.” The principal nodded to the boy’s way and Sungyeol sits right back down to his seat.

He was ignored, like always.

And like always, he will receive that little blue slip called Detention.

“Hello,” the boy taps him. Sungyeol slowly looks at him.

“Hi.”

The boy smiles again before sighing, looking around the office.

Sungyeol stares at him. “Are you a girl?

“No.” the boy ducks his head. “Sorry.”

Sungyeol turns away. “Why is he apologizing?” he turns back. “You know. This school is okay.”

The boy looks to him then. “Ah—is it?”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine.” Sungyeol nods. “What year are you in?”

Sungjong looks at his fingers before putting them down. “11^th.”

“You had to look at your fingers--?”

“I was going to show you eleven but I don’t have eleven fingers.” Sungjong laughs and Sungyeol joins him. Cute.

“I’m in twelfth.” He points at himself. “But you could be in my art class.”

Sungjong smiles, “What is your name,” and after a moment of hesitation “…hyung?”

“Lee Sungyeol. You?” Sungyeol smiles too.

“Lee Sungjong.”

“Jongie.” Sungyeol says and laughs. “Can I call you that? I mean, if I see you again?”

Sungjong flushes, “Sure, hyung.”

Sungyeol grins and they both turn away from each other, facing the lady at desk.

She is staring at them with a little smile.

“Are you okay?” Sungyeol raises an eyebrow.

Myungsoo mounts off of his bike. He’s in the park, and its afterschool.

He usually comes here when Sungyeol was in detention, when he didn’t have anyone to hang around with— or when he felt lonely in a way. He parked his bicycle and put his camera strap around his neck.

Myungsoo liked taking pictures.

His camera was like a friend to him, a companion. He would create memories with it and remember them forever.

The park isn’t as populated as last week; Myungsoo thinks and then turns to the swings. They are empty.

He takes a picture of them.

And it goes on like that. Taking pictures of leaf-less trees, small park lamps, the grass and some people here and there. Sometimes he faced the lens to himself, smiling a little.

A couple of minutes later, Myungsoo looks through all his photos as he sits in the park’s café. He smiles at a week-old photo of Sungyeol, who was smiling at camera.

“One of the few decent pictures of him.” Myungsoo murmurs and after staring at picture for a few more seconds, he reaches out for his macchiato.

He sighs after taking a sip.

It was getting cold again.

And he didn’t like March.

The month was like spring and winter; it confused him. Some mornings he found himself regretting leaving the house with just a sweater and some other days he felt then like he put on too much.

Myungsoo turns off his camera and leaves the café.

It was when he went to the corner of the coffee shop to mount of his bike, that he saw someone. No one familiar but Myungsoo turns on his camera, zooming in on a boy sitting by the glass of the shop. He was drinking a cappuccino and smiling.

Myungsoo pauses before pressing the shutter.

He smiles too.

“So they’re coming today?” Sungyeol asks.  He is looking through Myungsoo’s photos at his camera. Its morning and the both of them are in their homeroom.

Myungsoo nods. “They should be on their way already.”

“That lady better treat you nice.”

“She does.”

“You met her?” Sungyeol asks.

Myungsoo leans in to his chair. “Couple of times. She’s okay.”

“Couple of times isn’t enough for a judgment.”

“But she’s actually nice.” Myungsoo says.

“That’s what I said when I met you after a couple of times.” Sungyeol sits on Myungsoo’s desk but is still looking through the camera.

Myungsoo laughs. “I—didn’t think that way about you.”

Sungyeol’s attention is sparked. “What did you think?” But Myungsoo doesn’t say anything. He is biting his lips, stifling a laugh. “Should I really have asked?”

“Does this guy like me?”

“What?”

Myungsoo slaps his knee, “That’s what I thought!”

“When you saw me?” Sungyeol gets up. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not gay!”

“I know but you were always—”

“I was always what? Oh my god, you .” Sungyeol pushes him playfully. “I should kill you right now.”

Myungsoo smiles to him. “You love me too much.”

“As a friend.” Sungyeol warns.

Myungsoo mimics him but Sungyeol just sits back on his desk and continues looking at the camera. Sungyeol likes Myungsoo’s photos; he takes a lot of nice ones. All Sungyeol really takes is pictures of himself—maybe sometimes he has inspiration to take pictures of a flying eagles and lonely swings but nope—most of the time it’s himself.

“Like what you see?” Myungsoo asks. “When you aren’t around my pictures come out better.”

“Shut up.”

As Sungyeol presses the button to change to a new picture, Myungsoo all the while says: “Like that one, like that one, that one—yeah, that one. That picture of me, that one and that one—“

“…Oh.”

Myungsoo looks at Sungyeol who seems to find something weird on his camera.

“What is it?” He’s about to take it but Sungyeol swats his hand away.

“I thought it was something else, but nevermind.”

“Something else? What?”

Sungyeol smiles. “A picture of you .”

Myungsoo immediately tries to take his camera back and Sungyeol is laughing. “I was kidding—“

“erted—“

“Kidding!“

Sungyeol gives Myungsoo his camera back after the bell rings.

History class begins and already he wants to go home.

“You forgot to turn it off.” Myungsoo whispers to him and Sungyeol shrugs, not looking away from the droning professor.

There is one thing weird though.

Myungsoo took a picture of that boy—Jongie, at the park yesterday. Sungyeol doesn’t really know why he didn’t ask him if he knew the transfer.

He guesses he didn’t feel the need to ask.

“And so, during the 1700s, there is a massive shift from farming because of industrial, urban cities in England and—What. What is that smell?”

Sungyeol puts his granola bar away and groans.

He completely forgot.

“Lee Sungyeol! Office, now!” his professor points to the door.

“But I didn’t—“

The granola bar falls on the floor as he was trying to put it into his pocket quickly.

Myungsoo playfully grins to him and points to the door too.

 “ off.” Sungyeol shoves the boy’s shoulder as he gets up.

Everyone in the class snickers as the professor adjusts his glasses, “Excuse me?”

“Wait, I didn’t—Profess--“

“Get. Out.”

Sungyeol stomps down the aisle of the class. Before closing the door behind him, he catches a glimpse of Myungsoo with his head down. His shoulders are shaking.

“Son of a .” Sungyeol slams the door behind him and trudges once again to the office.

His mother pats his back as he shakes hands with his step-father.

“Hello, sir.” Sungjong bows.

He looks at the floor as he feels a hand ruffle his hair. “Go put your things upstairs, Sungjong.”

And Sungjong smiles to his step-dad and to his mom, who are already ready to celebrate. He takes his things and heads to the stairs.

“You really can’t do anything about this…can you, Sungjong?” He sighs.

He walks up the stairs quietly.

A/N: Chapter two is getting worked on.