Luhan likes everyone, which does not include Hwang Nana. Although she’s b with what people like to call ‘useless energy’, her overbearing personality can physically and mentally bully someone. While Hwang Nana seems to love everyone. It’s difficult to look at her—bright and exuberant and smiling—and think that she could hold an ounce of hate in her heart. Besides, holding a heart is heavy enough, emotions and all, but to hate someone? That’s too much baggage for the flighty Nana. Nana opts to change her affections, instead, and it only take a drop of a hat. For the past month, it’s been the new Chinese transfer student.

“Luhan!”

He turns around to see a smile he’s been acquainted with. Too acquainted with,  if you ask Luhan.

“Nana.” Luhan draws out her name slowly, awkwardly. He is much taller than Nana, yet somehow, it feels like her presence takes most of the hallway.

“How’s your day been?”

Luhan turns to walk away. She manages to keep in step, like always. Please, please oh god, please stay away, he thinks desperately, picking up his pace as his sneakers squeak against the polished hallways. She seems to be everywhere he is, not that he minded at first, emphasizing on the at first.

“Nana, I’m bus—”

“Am I really that hateable?” Nana inquires.

He lets out a dragged out laugh before looking to the side, “I wouldn’t say hateable. Just a bit overbea—”

“So you think I’m annoying?” Nana’s eyes are wider and Luhan’s guilt becomes heavier.

“I didn’t say that,” he tries to explain, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I mean you could always tone down your useless energy and tendencies to follow me around,” he mumbles before smiling his Luhan-estique smile, “I’m sure many other people love you.”

The bell rang (much to Luhan’s pleasure of scurrying away). Nana stares at his back, indifferent to being late for her next class. She had promised herself to committing to better grades, for the sake of it being her last year in high school—yet she had managed to find another excuse not to. Seolju steps next to Nana and slides an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to class. “We share the same English class, so what are you doing here?”

“Luhan,” Nana says, “he smiled at me.”

“Right and I’ll just say that you came with me from the nurse’s office because you were feeling starstruck from Luhan’s smile.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Hey, kiddo, I heard you brought a guy home a few days ago. Is that true?” Youngmin smirks at Youngmi over the dinner table. It’s one of the few times when most of family is home, eating dinner together, like a ‘happy’ family.

“A boy, dear? What’s all this about?” Her mother says.

Youngmi rolls her eyes as her brother continues speaking, “I’ve never even brought a girl home before! You’re leaving me behind, man. I feel left out.”

“Well, sorry I couldn’t provide you a hot date with my serial killer friend,” she replies, cutting into her steak with a little more force than needed. “I was tutoring a boy in my class, he’s a lost cause at things that doesn’t have to do with academics.”

“Ah, big ‘ole Jung Youngmi saving the world from stupidity a step at a time,” Youngmin says, putting his hands in the air.

“It’s called being a good samaritan, you ignorant behemoth.”

“You’re talking big for someone with such a small minded way of thinking.”

“Shut up.”

Youngmin holds his hands up in defense, grinning.

“That’s enough you two,” their mother, Eunmi, interrupts. “We’re in front of food and as far as I know, peace at the dinner table is mandatory in this house.”

Their father, Youngil, plays along, not wanting to ruin his wife’s mood. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

YEAR 2003.
LOCATION: SEOUL, S. KOREA [FLASH TO THE FUTURE]

Baekhyun sees Jinkyung’s hands wrapped around Minki’s arm. They’re pressed closed together, as if he’s guiding her around the foyer of the grand hotel, but he would know that that is Jinkyung’s job. It’s always overbearing Jinkyung’s job. She doesn’t see him. She doesn’t glance in his direction, where he’s garbed in a stuffy suit if only to fit in. The Jung Family Charity Balls were always a sight to gape at.

“Enjoying the party?” Youngmi says, standing next to him, out of no where. She follows his gaze, sipping her champagne flute.

Baekhyun grunts. They really needed to serve something stronger than bubbly, light champagne. He needed something like that.

“C’mon Baek, where’s your sass? You used to be a lot more talkative than this.”

“I can hardly be talkative around your ‘friends,’” he retorts. “Besides, where’s everybody we know?”

“Busy,” she replies, “we’re all adults now, in our on way.”

“Finally looks like we’ve moved on with our lives too,” Baekhyun notes.

Youngmi opens , but closes it. She's had enough with the courtesies. “You could go up there and talk to them.”

“Or, for the more sensible approach, don’t approach at all.”

“Baekhyun, talk to her. Please. You both have been avoiding each other for how long? Four years? Five? What happened?”

“Try asking her for a change,” he snaps. “I’ll see you, Youngmi.”

Then he left, stormed out—never noticing the small disappointed glance Jinkyung sends to him.

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

YEAR 1997.
BUSAN HIGH SCHOOL, TIME UNKNOWN. 

“I don’t understand why you’re asking the least resourceful person if they know who Kim Jongin is,” Inguk says. Kyori pushes him to the edge of the bench as she takes a seat. It should be surprising how much strength a small person has to Inguk, but sadly, he’s gotten used to being pushed around.

“You don’t need to understand, I just need answers,” says Kyori—which leaves Inguk thinking, what the hell, you’re not a spy, “now, who’s Kim Jongin and where’s Youngmi? She’ll be a hell of a lot more helpful than you in this situation.”

“It’s so like you to use people to your benefit.”

She ignores him for her better. “Well, who is he?” she presses on.

Inguk disclosed what he knew: “He’s a male replica of you in terms of looks, hobbies, and admirers.”

“Who?” Youngmi asks, now seated parallel to them.

Kyori, about to scoff at Inguk’s answer, turns her full attention to Youngmi. The student council president has its perks in keeping tabs on every name on Busan High’s 1997 student roster. And, as a friend of said student council president, Kyori using ‘resources’ is a friendship obligation. 

“Kim Jongin,” she spat.

“Well! Isn’t that wonderful.” Youngmi fakes the enthusiasm without effort and sips the cafeteria’s miso soup.

“Do you know anything about him, then?”

“Uh, well, he’s basically what Inguk described him as." 

“That doesn't help.”

“Then ask the right question.”

Kyori groans. She had hoped that they would understand, would read between the lines of what she truly wanted to know, in order to spare her pride. It was a matter between Kyori being too vague or Inguk and Youngmi too dense.

“What's he like?” she grounds out, each word struggling to be pronounced.

“He keeps to himself for the most part and he spends his time in the dance studio. If you take account of his behavior towards you, I'd say he's arrogant, but he did try saving you from your maniac fanboys.”

“Hey, I could've handled it! I've handled worse.”

“You were backed into wall.”

“They would've made me a pathway if he hadn't come.”

“What are you planning even?” Inguk interrogates. He silently hopes it isn’t too violent—then again, he didn’t expect much because it was Kyori.

“I want him to kneel.”

“Out of?”

“Adoration and utmost respect.”

Inguk looks to be choking a bit. Youngmi is in disbelief and looks to be regretting her position in this.

“Yeah, like someone like Jongin will ever kneel for you.”  

Youngmi nods her head sympathetically, shrugging her shoulders. “It is true, though, I really don't know what to tell you.”

For once, Kyori holds back and stops relenting