Sometimes I feel like there are one hundred versions of you.

Xiumin. Minseok. Kim Minseok.

The boy with pale round cheeks gliding through the airport doors, or that co-member clutching onto my arms and waist on a normal busy day. There’s you puffing your cheeks when the snow crumbs settle on your palms and your eyes are bloodshot from the cold. There’s also you in that silly, repetitive button-down checked shirt that always looks good on you (never mind that it’s been unwashed for two weeks and it somewhat reeks of rehearsal sweat).

And then there’s you smiling that gummy, mindless smile that shows off your stupidly small teeth (which I think are cute and adorable, but maybe not as adorable as the fluffiness of your cheeks).

There’s you drinking coffee at the dorm countertop, legs propped up on that wobbly stool. Because here’s where I find stupid things to talk about so I can have an excuse to look at you and stare at your messy morning hair and rumpled shirt. Those twitchy lips that turn into a lovely pout, those dyed brown brows that wiggle when you wrinkle your nose. Then the looking becomes staring and the staring becomes seeing, because when the seeing becomes all too much it just all melts down to being with you.

Then there’s Minseok during practice, the playful Xiumin. The incessant smiles that make me want to squirm and squeal and do all these weird noises. In lieu of those disturbing sounds, I pretend-stand and smile and lightly sway my limbs in an attempt to rehearse steps I already know. You say, “Am I doing this right?” I nod my head and think, is it possible for you to do anything wrong?

Luhan is a babo, after all, and a coward – to top it all off – when dealing with his brainless feels. I choke on my sandwich when I hear you giggling in fits, or let my drinks ride through my nose when you ask me if your hair looks okay (because it’s never just okay).

It’s ing beautiful.

You during the endless travels and when you doze off on my shoulder. When you’re too sleepy to notice me patting your head to wish you good night. Or when you wake up in between and ask me what time it is, and I shush you and say, “I got you. Just sleep.”

Or you screwing up group introductions. When you mess up your Mandarin and I end up getting in trouble for not looking out for you. Then I rewind those videos in my room and I see you buckle awkwardly and cutely and attractively and I realize maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to get in a little trouble sometimes.

Then there’s you in front of cameras, in shoots and in videos. You making weird faces that somehow work (they always work). You laugh and I sigh and I get lost somewhere along the shape of your lips. You pull your chin to your chest and tell me you don’t look good enough and I tell you that’s impossible.

Or you during those secret coffee trips on the forgotten streets of Apgujeong, where sometimes, you make me feel that I maybe just a little bit more. Where we get lost in sweet nothings and you tell me you like my sweatshirt and I tell you you can have it, and you end up laughing for nine seconds. The foam rests on your lips and we go back to this never-ending staring game.

I wanted to kiss you then, but the courage I conjured was not enough. I’d like to think it never was.

But the seconds become minutes and the minutes become hours, and the next thing I know I have you in my arms. Your chin on my shoulder, my hands cupping your cheeks and that messy morning hair tangled between my fingers. Us under white linen sheets, your body warmth seeping through the cracks of my cold knuckles, and kisses trailing down my stomach.

Then the one hundred Xiumins, Minseoks, Kim Minseoks, all become one.

You who search for my hand in a sea of fans, You singing to me in the shower, You stealing kisses from me on the plane ride home, You living in the crevices of my arms, and You who says he loves me too.

Because for what it’s worth and what this stupid feels mean, beyond that one hundred versions of you, they all come down to just one little steamed bun, that little Baozi that latches on to every bit of me.