Doctor Hwang, has a voice that seems extremely condescending rather her words are in Korean or Mandarin. Zitao doesn’t know if it’s a doctor thing, an ‘I know you’re upset so don’t lie’ thing, or if he’s just imagining it.

He doesn’t like her. Her hair is pulled back in a perfect and tight bun, and her suit dress is pressed. She crosses her legs at the ankle, low heels on her feet and her fingers have a French manicure. Everything about her speaks of perfection, superiority, and organization, and it makes Zitao uncomfortable.

She asks him questions that he can’t exactly answer and makes stupid assumptions that he agrees to because he doesn’t know what will happen if tells her she’s wrong.

He leaves 30 minutes later and never wants to see her again. He still doesn’t understand how things have turned out this way.

During lunch Zitao officially meets Kris, the tall blond that lives in his building.

“You’re in my Korean class,” Kris says coming over to him at lunch, they’re in a stairway, Zitao couldn’t find seclusion anywhere else that day but the east stairway between the second and third floor. “The one we have after school.”

Kris speaks Mandarin, and Zitao still feels uncomfortable. Yixing used to talk to him in Mandarin on occasion, and according to Dr. Hwang, Yixing was the one that had gotten hurt. Zitao bites his bottom lip and nods his head. Kris will be like Luhan soon, he’s tall and good-looking, some sports team will want him, and then he’ll be like an honorary Korean or something.

“You don’t talk much do you,” Kris asks, sitting beside him.

“I–I’m sorry,” Zitao mutters. “I’m not used to people actually trying to start a conversation with me.”

“Because you’re Chinese,” Kris asks.

“Amongst other things,” Zitao admits quietly, “That’s just one of the many reasons.”

“Well you’re the only person that doesn’t seem wrapped up in anything of utter importance so I thought I’d talk to you and hopefully kind of understand this place better.”

“You can try but I don’t think I’ll be able to help you much,” Zitao admits. “I’ve been here a lot longer than you but I’m still pretty clueless.” Kris laughs, and he looks less intimidating but still handsome. Zitao’s surprised he hasn’t heard the girls talking about him, or maybe they have and Zitao didn’t bother listening into their conversations.

“Okay,” Kris says. “That’s fine–just I’m Kris Wu, but I’m pretty sure most people know me as Yifan. What’s your name?”

Zitao’s eyes widen slightly, before dropping to the lunch in front of him. He hadn’t even introduced himself yet and even though Kris hadn’t either it was still awkward. “Huang Zitao,” he mutters softly. “I’m a first year.”

“Really,” Kris asks, “Wow, I’m a senior. No wonder you don’t know much, you’re just as new as I am.”

They talk for the majority of lunch, mostly it’s Kris talking and asking questions and even though it’s not something Tao’s used to, he likes it. He hadn’t done such a thing in so long and despite his friends outside of school knowing the real him, it still felt strange having such an open conversation with a student inside of Gidae.

Kris leaves to class first and before he goes, Zitao mumbles a “bye Kris-ge,” red faced and embarrassed.

Zitao’s not the type to linger on a 30-minute conversation between him and someone else. He’s grateful that Kris decided to spare him the time of day, but he’s not planning slumber parties, or play dates.

Kris greets him after school when they’re sitting in their extra Korean class. They’re about to get started when in walks Luhan. Zitao’s eyes turn from his notebook to the