They’re practically the same height though there’s nothing else similar between the two of them. The one on the left is a little chubby with high cheekbones and messy hair. The one on the right is lean, hair silkily falling in front of his face, and his head looks too big for his neck. The slightly chubby one is clearly trying to entice the skinny one’s interest in the school architecture, but the skinny one is clearly more interested in the passing clouds. Maybe he wishes it would rain. The chubbier one is somewhat frustrated, as can be seen by the slight draw of his eyebrows inwards, but the skinnier one is clueless and closes his eyes and lets out a soft breath as a small, soft breeze blows by.

 

“I’ll be fine,” the skinny one says after the breeze is gone and the chubby one had stopped to stare at the soccer game his friends are playing out on the field. “Don’t worry too much.”

 

The chubby one stares at him and shrugs. “I’d honestly be more worried if you were paying attention,” he mutters and moves forward. His friends out on the field might wait for him a bit longer, if he’s lucky.

 

They move forward, the chubby one pointing out the gym, the cafeteria and then he proclaims their small tour over and leaves the thin one in their classroom, dashing to the soccer field. The skinny one takes a slender book from his bag and leaves soon after. The few girls in the class stare at him and he gives them a shy smile as he leaves, which sends them twittering.

 

...

 

 

The sun is refreshing on his skin as Jinki joins his friends. “Done already?” He asks, disappointment starting to knock on his heart.

 

“Nah,” the tallest one says, “but a few minutes later and we would have been. Want to join in for one last round?”

 

Jinki looks absurdly happy that he’ll have a chance to play, if but for a few minutes.

 

 

 

“Hey,” he mumbles fifteen minutes later, as those few minutes had been multiplied by five. His breath comes in little gasps as he’s still a bit winded from running around. “Why aren’t you on the soccer team?”

 

The tall one is still drinking from his water bottle. “Never felt like it.”


They’re quiet for a few moments, the voices of their friends laying over them. It’s comfortable and Jinki knows that he won’t ever be uncomfortable in Minho’s presence no matter what. 

 

...

 

 

 

 

The sky is awfully pretty today. Taemin holds a slender pencil in his hand and twirls it. Another pencil is stuck behind his ear, this one a stubble of a thing. It’s clearly been more used than the one in his hand, more loved. It’s this sort of blue, the sort of blue that causes him to stumble over words when trying to describe it. It’s just... blue, the sort of blue that can only exist in the sky. Bright. Clear. Just the sort of blue he needs on days he’s blue.

 

He slides the slender pencil behind his other ear and takes the stubby one from his other. With careful precision, he starts writing down words. They don’t make sense if only these words are stringed into a sentence because they’re simply words that come to mind.

 

 

 

Taemin can faintly hear sounds from below, and he remembers that the boy his height with hair all over the place had told him that the roof and balconies were forbidden to go on. Something about someone trying to jump from the roof a bajillion gazillion years ago (one exaggeration by Lee Taemin). But he doesn’t care much for rules and, hello, he’s not the type to jump off a roof when committing suicide. Something like pills is much more his style.

 

 

...

 

Two months pass and Taemin is sickeningly used to the habits of people here. He doesn’t like sameness; he has, if you will, a for things that are different, things that make him go ‘aha.’ But that aha is surprisingly difficult to elicit from him.

 

He doodles in the margins of his notebook during class, drawing things like dragons and little hamlets of peasants being destroyed by vikings with mermaids on the prows of their ships. Sometimes he draws clouds and lightning and houses being electrocuted. Class bores him; he learned all of this last year, at a different school.

 

He doesn’t need to be here, but parents always beg to differ from their children.

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

He just wants to be outside. That’s all. His wishes are so simple, yet so difficult to achieve. Like all he wants to be is a soccer player when he grows up, which is simple, but it’s that really annoying type of simple. Deceptively simple. His wishes could be spies and they would assassinate his hopes and dreams with every wish that wasn’t achieved. How perfect.

 

Jinki snorts at himself and shoots a look over at Minho, who is facing the front and studiously paying attention to the teacher. Now him. He could be a soccer player, go pro and be fantastic and Jinki would be forever jealous. He’d rather be forever jealous than know just how much potential he’s wasting.

 

Worst part is that Jinki can’t breathe a word of this to Minho and Jinki’s not too good at keeping quiet- though he has kept this particular secret for some years. Maybe he’s better at this secret thing than he thought.

 

 

...

 

 

 

They meet again when Taemin is called to the teacher’s office because he’d been caught doodling his favorite peasant right in the middle of his notes. (His name is Fredrick and he has high and lofty dreams of one day becoming a blacksmith.) Jinki is there because he’s the Class President, which he likes to capitalize because it makes him feel nice, and he has to turn in some papers.

 

“Jinki,” the teacher stops him just as he’s about to leave. He turns around, a little like slow motion, but slow motion just looks idiotic in reality so it was maybe a fraction faster than that. He glances at the skinny kid that’s his height and searches for his name and comes up with nothing. He’s not that good with names. “I thought you’d help Taemin acclimate to school here.”


He blinks at the teacher. “What makes you think he’s not acclimated? He seems fine to me,” Jinki glances across at the kid, their eyes at the same level, but this skinny brat is looking out the window at a birds nest on the tree right outside the teacher’s office.

 

Taemin’s thinking that he’d love to live on the highest floor available in his building, which is something like ten, but his parents didn’t like being so far from the ground so they live on the second floor. He doesn’t like it.

 

“Look at him,” the teacher says disdainfully. “And look at his notebook. Full of drawings and nonsense!”

 

Jinki takes the notebook proffered and flips through it. He has to smile at a funny looking peasant (Fredrick). “How is this nonsense?” He asks, pointing to a page from yesterday’s literature class.

 

“A-are you not reading it?” The teacher splutters.

 

Jinki blinks again and patiently smiles. “I’ve already read it.”

 

Slowly, Taemin’s head turns to stare at Jinki. His smile is too big for Taemin’s tastes- for he has very particular tastes. His eyes don’t look like they’d reflect the blue sky too well, but Taemin might be able to deal with that.

 

“Teacher, he’s taking notes in abstract words. If you remember yesterday’s literature lesson, we were going over the use of flowers in symbolism, and here he’s writing about lilies and forbidden love which was used in some poems written in the Joseon period. Do you not remember?” He asks, as the teacher stares at him.

 

“How am I supposed to understand that from looking at his notes?” The teacher demands after a silence hangs heavily around the three of them.

 

“Well, it’s a good thing these notes aren’t for you then, right? I have to go now though, so goodbye,” after a quick bow, Jinki dashes out of there. He doesn’t want to be kept there any longer, or he’s never going to get time to hang out with Minho and the others. Donghae was supposed to come by today, and Jonghyun had also said that maybe he’d come by and play a quick round.

 

 

 

Taemin’s eyes follow Jinki as he leaves the office and he really doesn’t remember what else happens in that stuffy office, because he doesn’t really care. The teacher can call home, but nothing will change. His parents trust him more than any teacher.

 

He thinks that Jinki’s messy hair is actually kind of nice. It’s sort of really who he is. Taemin likes that.