Kris sometimes thinks that his friends mess up the game on purpose so that they can watch him play.

“Oh come on,” He snaps, snatching the ball from Lu Han. “You’re the point guard, man! Can’t you pass the ball to Minseok at the right time?”

Lu Han pouts at him and no, grown boys aren’t supposed to pout.

“Show us again,” Lu Han begs, pulling on Kris’ arm.

“Yeah!” Sehun says quickly. “Show us again!”

Kris huffs in annoyance but what can he do?

“Fine,” he grumbles. They all rush off to the side and sit, watching like eager children.

Kris stands at the other end of the court and dribbles the ball a few times.

“Okay,” he tells them. “Watch closely.”

He runs down the court, pretends to dodge a few attackers, fakes a pass—which is supposed to be when Lu Han grabs the ball and passes it to Minseok. Instead he turns around and sinks the shot himself.

“See, that’s what it should look like,” Kris says, turning to his team, all of whom promptly burst into applause.

“Show us again!” Minseok orders.

Kris feels his eye twitch and flings the ball at him. “You show me! Come on, you guys are the ones who asked me to teach you this!”

On February 20^th 2011, Kevin logs onto his computer and finds he has an email from an old friend. The subject line reads “It could have been you.” Inside is just a YouTube link.

Kevin clicks the link and closes the window two seconds later, before the video can even load. It was titled Linsanity. He feels like throwing up. He types out a swift reply, ‘Not cool man,’ and clicks send before he loses his nerve.

Burning bridges, he thinks to himself, One at a time but burning them all. This is his life now, and he’s well aware of the fact that it’s been three years and he has yet to debut, and all of his friends have nearly finished their third year of college. Some have girlfriends, some broke up with people they thought they belonged with. Some have moved away, at least one girl from his high school is now living in Puerto Rico. Some have the world at their feet, some have crashed and burned. Kevin is well aware that he’s still in limbo, still waiting for his big moment.

Linsanity. The funny thing is, it probably could have been him, once upon a time. He thinks of long bus rides to Beijing with his team, his mom following behind in her old car. He thinks about the songs they’d sing along to until the coach finally yelled at them to be quiet. He thinks of lacing up his shoes before the big game, looking up and seeing his mom in the stands, camera all ready to record his every move. He was good, really good. They wanted him to stay in China just so he could play basketball, too bad he didn’t speak Chinese well enough. He didn’t fight his mom this time when they moved back to Canada and she enrolled him in Chinese school.

Kevin thinks back to High School, not the team captain but a key player nonetheless. He thinks about the friends he made through the game, about having lunch with his team mates and how they all for his accent, in a friendly way. How amazed they’d be when they went for Chinese food and he could read everything on the menu, tell them exactly what was in it. Kevin remembers his coach telling him in his junior year that if he worked real hard, he could get a basketball scholarship. He could play for the NBA one day if he really wanted to.

Back then, Kevin thought it was impossible. An Asian kid in the big leagues? It had never been done. It probably would never be done. Asian kids just didn’t play basketball, they were on the math league, in the band. Never mind that Kevin loathed math and had never even touched an instrument of any kind. Did he want it? At the time, more than anything.

But he had a different idea, born in the back of his mind years ago when he heard about a Chinese man in a South Korean pop group, about the struggles he faced but the road he paved for others. Kevin stayed up late looking up SM Entertainment, watching videos of Super Junior and H.O.T, thinking that he might stand a chance. He wasn’t a great singer, but he had a deep voice and confidence, and he might make a good rapper. Heaven knows he loved rap, in all languages. Every week he took his allowance and went out to buy more CDs.

At the time it was better than trying to make it in the big leagues. School was never his forte, he’d gotten in more than one argument with his mom about his grades, Kevin why aren’t you applying yourself, you’re such a bright kid; I am applying myself mom! It’s not working! And his dad…forget about it. His dad wanted him to be a lawyer or something, something that he could brag about to his friends. Basketball wasn’t on the list of approved careers. Neither was Rapper, but Kevin was done trying to please his dad.

“If Yoona could see you play, she’d go out with you in a heartbeat,” Amber teases, nudging his arm one night in the practice room.

He snorts and shoves her over. “Stop jerking me around,” he laughs.

“I’m serious Li,” she continues. “You are hot when you play.”

Li, that’s all anyone calls him anymore. He’s still undecided on the whole name thing. A lot of people change their name when they debut, some by choice and some because the company says so. As for him, there’s already a Kevin Woo in the company scene, and so he needs a new name. Amber suggested Kris, and he’s considering it.

“If you think I’m so hot then you go out with me,” he teases back, the problem being that he’s half serious. He’ll always be half serious, hell maybe a little more than half.

Amber sighs and runs her fingers through her cropped hair. She says that they want her to go blonde for the comeback. Kevin thinks it’ll look good on her…

“You know I can’t do that,” she mutters.

Yes, he does know. She’s destined to be single now, at least in public. And Kevin, well he’s got to work towards his debut. They want a new boy group out soon, and if he wants to make the cut he can’t be distracted.

“Kev,” she says, snapping her fingers in his face. “Pay attention.”

“Yes sunbaenim,” he says, focusing again. She wrinkles her nose.

“Ew, don’t call me that,” she scoffs. “You’re technically still my sunbae you know.”

It’s true, he did join the company before she did. He came first in everything, birth, contract, height, good looks (as he often teased), but she got to debut first.

“Yeah, but you don’t call me that,” Kevin points out. “You’re such a disrespectful hoobae.”

Amber sticks her tongue out at him. “What are you going to do about it?” She demands.

“Challenge you to a rap off,” Kevin tells her, jumping to his feet. “Let’s go!”

“Are you eating well?”

Kris grips the phone tightly in his hand. “Yeah, I’m eating a lot.” That part is true.

“Are you getting enough sleep?”

The lie burns even before he says it. “Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

“You look so tired in those pictures,” she frets.

Kris bites down on his lip. “It’s the makeup,” he mutters. “It’s really dumb.”

She sighs heavily and Kris wants to reach through the phone and hold her hand. Sometimes he really wishes he’d gone to college, his father told him that he’d pay if he wanted to be something he could approve of. He should have taken him up on the offer.

“I have to go,” he whispers, forcing his voice not to crack. “I love you mama.”

“I love you too, my dear son.”

Her dear son who ran as far away as he could as soon as he could. Kris covers his face and breathes deeply. His mother’s family used to say that he was so filial, she was the luckiest mother in the world. Her son would take care of her. So much for that idea. All he did now was worry her.

Kris goes to one of the larger practice rooms and sets up some rope on the floor. Four pieces, evenly spaced. He thinks for a second.

“Suicides for ten minutes,” he tells himself. He winds up running back and forth for almost two hours. Lu Han finally comes downstairs and drags him out of the practice room.

When Kris learns he’s finally going to debut, he doesn’t cry. He’s too stunned. He’s not the only one, that Jongdae kid looks like he’s just seen a ghost. Zitao is crying, as is Yixing. Joonmyun is almost hysterical, already on the phone with his mother. All around they’re starting to pull out their phones and call home, but it’s almost 1 AM in Canada, Kris can’t call his mom just yet. Instead he texts Amber.

You up?

Yeah, why?

Can you meet me?

Third floor practice room in ten. Can’t stay long.

He beats her there and paces around the room until she bursts in, newly dyed blonde hair in disarray. She’s sweating a bit, and Kris knows she’s been practicing her new choreography.

“What’s up?” She gasps, but her eyes are bright and her face is flushed, Kris knows she knows.

“We’re going to be called EXO apparently,” he manages, “All caps. Isn’t that so stupid?”

Amber laughs and Kris laughs with her. “The dumbest thing ever,” Amber gasps.

“I know,” he says. “I know…” and then he tears up. “Amber…I did it!”

She crosses the room in long strides and throws her arms around his neck. “You bet you did,” she whispers.

Kris hugs her so tightly he lifts her off the floor. He buries his face in her hair and tries not to cry.

“I’m so proud of you,” Amber says, her voice somewhere around his shoulder. “We’re going to perform together someday! Oh my god, Kris…”

He pulls back so he can look at her. “I wouldn’t be here without you,” he tells her, and he means it. How many times did she tell him to hang on? How many times has she pulled him away for pizza and a friendly chat? How many times has she come to him and assured him that he would be brilliant?

Kris cups her jaw and lowers his head. Their noses brush and she inhales sharply.

“Kris,” she says, breathless.

“Amber,” he says, equally breathless.

For a second neither of them move, then Amber stands on her toes and presses her lips to his mouth. There’s no stopping him after that. He spins her around, presses her against the mirror. Her lips part and he into , she groans and he presses even harder against her. Her fingers rake through his hair and she tilts her head, bites down on his lip and swallows his gasp. He grabs her hands and pins them over her head, pulls away and kisses down her neck, searching for that spot that drives her crazy…

“No marks,” she hisses.

“I know,” he breathes, the spot between her neck and shoulder and smirks when she shudders. He straightens up and kisses her again, slower this time, deliberately ignoring her when she growls and arches against him. It’s been so long since he’s gotten to kiss her, he’s almost forgotten how demanding she can be. Almost, but not quite. There are some things he could never forget.

Kris releases her hands and instead holds her hips, thumbs slipping under her shirt and brushing her skin. Amber grabs his shoulders and digs her nails into his back, drags them down until he moans into . Breathing is getting even harder, but neither of them pull away.

But there’s only so far they can go, there’s always been only so far they can go. Amber will always be on some other level, something he’ll never reach no matter how much he wants to. Especially now that he’s going be under scrutiny. It doesn’t matter how Kris sees her, how much he wants to be with her. Right now, they just can’t.

They force themselves to calm down, and Kris just knows that it’ll never be like this again. He brushes his fingertips along Amber’s jaw, kisses her gently and tries to memorize the feeling of her breath on his lips, her body against his, how warm and soft and strong she feels in his arms.

“I should get a move on,” she says softly. Kris presses their foreheads together, tries to think of something to say and comes up blank.

“Stay,” he manages, taking the hand that she presses to his cheek. “I’ll make it worth it.”

Amber laughs. “I have no doubt that you would.” She bites her lip and Kris looks away because he wants to kiss her too much. “I want to,” she admits. “I really do…damn.”

“Damn,” Kris echoes. This was so much easier when they were both trainees. You’re not exactly allowed to date, but if you fool around on a weekend in a locked dorm the company is less likely to care when you’re not being followed by cameras and managers. Kris has a few memories of giving his roommate $20 to disappear for the afternoon, spending an hour or two memorizing the curve of Amber’s neck with his lips.

Amber snaps him out of those memories when she places a lingering kiss on his lips.

“See you around cowboy,” she teases.

“See you around beautiful,” he says sadly.

When she leaves Kris walks out to the basketball court a few blocks from the company. There’s a bunch of kids there, not more than seven years old. None of them can land a shot.

“Guys,” Kris calls, and they all turn to face him. “Want to learn?”

He spends two hours lifting them up in the air so they can throw the ball and have a chance to actually get it in the basket. They shriek with glee every time they manage it. when they get bored of that Kris pushes them on the swings, running back and forth as they yell higher, higher!

Their moms thank him for it when he finally has to leave, tell him that he’s absolutely wonderful. Kris bows and thanks them right back, and then they smile over how polite he is.

“So handsome,” he hears one woman say as he walks away. “Is he a model?”

“Keep an eye out for him,” another teases. “He just might be!”

“We are one…”

Joonmyun taps his pen against his thigh. “Not bad,” he says lightly. “I like it.”

“Yes!” Jongin cries, throwing his hands up. “Yes, it has passed the Joonmyun test!”

“Why in English?” Zitao whines. “We don’t speak English.”

“It’s three words,” Yixing says patiently. “And it’s better than fighting over Korean versus Mandarin.”

“English will set us apart,” Kris says patiently. “We’re going to be a global group, we need to speak a globally recognized language.”

“Blah, blah, big words!” Lu Han sighs, “It sounds cool. Let’s go for it!”

Kris calls home that night and tells his mom that their showcase is in three days.

“I know dear,” she says patiently. “I have it marked on the calendar.”

“Will you watch it?” He asks.

“Of course! Honey, I am so proud of you. You really did well. Did you tell your father?”

Kris swallows. “No, not yet.”

She sighs. “You should. He’ll want to know. He really does love you Yifan.”

Kris sighs. “Okay, I’ll call him now.”

“Alright. Goodnight my love.”

“Goodnight mom.”

Kris flips his phone from hand to hand. To call or not to call…he hasn’t spoken to his father in nearly a year. But then again, this is his life now. For the first time in a long time he’s really happy, really optimistic about his future. His dad should know that. His dad should accept that.

He dials the number quickly.

“Hello?”

“Ni Hao, baba.”

“Kevin. How are you?”

He swallows nervously. “I’m going to be a singer. We’re having our debut showcase in three days.”

There’s a brief silence. “Congratulations, son. I’m happy for you.”

Kris shuts his eyes. “Are you really?”

There’s a heavy sigh. “Honestly, I am tired of fighting you. I’ve fought you for too long. About your mother, about basketball…if you’ve made it to your showcase, someone must think you’re doing what you’re meant to do.”

“I’m really good, ba.”

“I have no doubt that you are.”

Kris blinks back a few tears. “I can send you a copy of our CD,” he hedges.

There’s a silence. “Actually I already preordered it.”

This time Kris cannot hold back the tears, but his voice doesn’t crack. “You didn’t have to…”

“I came to one of your games once,” his father interrupts. “In Beijing. I didn’t sit in the bleachers, I watched from outside the window. You…were pretty good son.”

This time Kris has to pull the phone away from his mouth to catch his breath. When he can speak again he does so in a rush.

“When we have our first concert I’ll send you a ticket, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I have to go. I’ll…I’ll call you later.”

“Take care son.”

“You too.”

It’s not I love you. It’s not I’m proud of you. It’s not I’m sorry. But it feels like it is.

“Kris!” Zitao yells. “Get over hear, the stylists want to play dress up with you.”

Kris wipes at his eyes and straightens up. “On my way.”

And so it begins.