Sehun stood, his back ramrod straight, facing the entrance of Professor Minseok’s lecture hall. He was ten minutes earlier than the start time of the class, but it didn’t bother him. In fact, he would rather be at the classroom before the other students. Perhaps he would be able to blend into the scenery and pass off as a displaced sculpture from some inexperienced sculptor.

He sighed, and clasped his hands together. Sehun began to bend his fingers backwards to stretch them, a nervous habit he had developed at a young age.

Moments ago, when Jongdae had been beside him, he was feeling perfectly fine. In fact, he was feeling rather confident. That feeling only came about when he was with Luhan.

Jongdae was an interesting fellow; although he appeared modest by his choice of dress and mellow tone of voice, he exuded extreme confidence. His square-framed, thick, and black glasses made you think he was scholarly; his cowlick-style hair made him appear suave. Sehun wasn’t sure what to make of him, but one thing was for sure: Jongdae made the people around him feel at ease with his idle chitchat initiated by his calming tenor voice.

Minutes passed, and Sehun grew more uneasy with each passing second. Cautiously eyeing the clock above the half-opened door, he saw that exactly three minutes had passed since he arrived.

Gently lowering his backpack, Sehun bent down and leaned against the cool marble wall. His back slid against the smooth surface until his bottom landed on the tiled floor with a quiet thud. Kicking his legs out in front of him, he noticed his second-hand sneakers wearing thin. ‘I need to go job-hunting soon,’ he thought, mentally cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner. ‘If these shoes wear out, I’ll have nothing to wear on my feet…’

While he quickly ran over his past job experiences and the possible places he could work at in Shaanxi, the door seamlessly pushed open.

“Sehun? My, you’re quite early. Please, come in. Don’t be afraid to walk in if you’re here early. Actually, I need some help passing out notes to the class. There’s no one else here now; will you help me out?” Professor Minseok’s glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he bent down to look at Sehun. Sliding the glasses back up his nose, he motioned for Sehun to follow him as he kicked the doorstopper out and stabilized the door.

Silently nodding, Sehun pushed himself off of the floor and followed the professor into the vast lecture hall. Sehun gazed at the seemingly endless rows of long desks and seats. In the front was a large white board, covered with a black projector screen. A compact white projector was attached to the ceiling in front of the white board, pointed towards the screen.

The white board took up the entire upper half of the front wall. Whiteboard markers, in the order of the color spectrum, stuck to the board magnetically. Several bottles of whiteboard spray sat in multiple positions along the small shelf protruding from the bottom edge of the board, explaining the impeccable whiteness.

On the left side of the projector screen hung uniform Polaroid photos in a neat column, and various other photos next to them in a contrasting pattern. Some were also Polaroid photos; others were Kodak-printed photos; others were long strips of multiple pictures. Despite the diversity of photo types, they were all displayed together with unity: they were all pictures of flora. The trees, flowers, herbs, vegetables, bushes, and plants that Sehun had never seen before all showcased their beautiful natural pigmentation and perfection.

Professor Minseok’s desk was nothing small compared to the rest of the lecture hall. If one calculated the ratios of objects in the room to the area of the room and the objects on his desk and the area of the desk, they would be very close. Mountains of papers arranged in neat (yet hap hazardous) stacks towered over the small, potted plants that lined the front of the dark oak desk. Behind the potted plants were countless trinkets: paperweights, paperclips, magnets, precious stones, and pressed flowers caught Sehun’s wandering eyes. Finally, in the center of the chaos, a large calendar with cursive scribbles marking the surface took up most of the desk space. Multiple rectangular-prism shaped pencil holders framed the edges of the calendar, and a new ten-pack of multicolor pens lay scattered across the table. On top of the pens sat a precariously tipping Styrofoam lunch tray, polished clean from food.

Noticing Sehun’s avid interest in the details of his classroom, Professor Minseok sheepishly bent his arm and rubbed the back of his head.

“Sorry for how messy my desk is. My students always make jokes about it. This is “Minseok’s Cave”, as my students call it. Anyways, please pass these papers out to the tables. You need three papers for each row, since this room is so big and I don’t have that many students. You’re my sixtieth student.”

Professor Minseok handed Sehun a stack of papers from his desk, and Sehun docilely accepted them. As he moved towards the first row of seats, the professor called out to him.

“Sehun, your seat is in the middle of the first row. Please sit down when you’re done.”

“Ah, okay. Thank you very much.”

The professor sent Sehun an amused look.

“When we first met, you weren’t half as polite as you are now.”

“I’m very sorry for that, professor,” Sehun mumbled, “it’s just… Money is a really sensitive topic.”

“I know,” Minseok heaved a sigh. “When I was younger, I went through a similar experience. My dad… He was a gambling addict. He gambled us out of house and home before he overdosed on alcohol and died in a bar. It took us years to recover, but my mom and I pulled through. We’re both teachers now,” he said with a wry grin.

“I’m sorry,” Sehun shuffled awkwardly. He had never been in such a situation before. “I’m sorry about your father.”

“Don’t be,” Minseok scoffed. “That man… Well, is the reason why I don’t ever drink. I’m a big killjoy to Jongdae, but at least he’s come to enjoy fruit juice.”

Sehun smiled at Minseok’s comment. Settling into his seat, he brought his backpack onto the table before pausing.

“Professor, what materials do I need for the lecture today?”

“Oh,” Minseok paused, lightly pounding his stack of papers on his desk, “just a spiral notebook and a pencil. We’ll be taking notes on different kinds of moods affiliated with scenery today.”

Nodding, Sehun pulled out his notebook and his pencil case. Silent minutes passed with the exception of the ticking of the clock before footsteps could be heard from inside the room.

“P-Professor Minseok, I’ve brought my report!” A lanky male with a mop of brown hair dashed into the room, collapsing face-first onto the desk next to Sehun.

“Yixing, Yixing, Yixing,” Minseok sighed kindly from his desk. “Please remember to turn in your assignments when they are due.”

“I’m so sorry,” Yixing wailed weakly, his upper body prostrate against the tabletop, “I swear I write everything down in my planner.”

“All right, bring your report up here. You’ll still receive full credit for your work, but no more next time!”

“Thank you so much!” Yixing jumped up from the desk, startling Sehun. Sehun let out a soft whimper when Yixing landed on his foot.

“Oh!” Yixing spun around, facing Sehun. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were there!”

“S’okay,” Sehun mumbled, embarrassed. “It didn’t really hurt.”

“Still, sorry about that. My name’s Zhang Yixing,” they boy smiled kindly at him, a dimple revealing itself on his cheek. “I’m a freshman here, and I’ll major in nature photography.”

“Only if you turn your assignments in on time,” Minseok grumbled from his desk.

“Ouch! Yeah, that,” Yixing scratched the back of his neck. “I’m kind of bad with remembering things.”

“I’m Oh Sehun, freshman, same major as you,” Sehun murmured briskly, slightly blushing. Aside from Luhan, Yixing was the first person Sehun had to interact with who was around the same age as him.

Yixing frowned, bending closer to Sehun.

“I’m sorry, what was that? Did you say your name was Thehun?”

Sehun shook his head, flustered.

“I’m Oh Sehun, a freshman who hopes to major in nature photography. I have a lisp that comes out when I’m nervous or talking to fast, sorry about that.”

“No, don’t worry about it, Sehun,” Yixing grinned, extending a hand for Sehun to shake. “I have a Changsha accent that makes it hard for the people here to understand me sometimes.”

Sehun reached his hand out and shook Yixing’s. Smiling to himself, he thought that school might not be so bad this time around.

--

“Okay, that concludes today’s lecture.” Professor Minseok cleared his throat, turning the projector off. “If any of you missed anything, ask each other. I’m busy starting from today after school.”

Bemused murmurs passed through the lecture hall, making Sehun prickle with guilt. Minseok caught Sehun’s eye, and smiled at him reassuringly. ‘It’s okay,’ he mouthed.

A crystal-clear chiming cut through the air, and the students quickly packed up their belongings. Slowly zipping up his backpack, Sehun backtracked and reviewed his mental image of his schedule.

“There’s lunch next,” a voice next to him clarified, making him jump. A startled yelp followed immediately afterwards.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Sehun apologized, before looking up into Yixing’s sheepish face.

“Don’t be, I guess we’re even now,” Yixing joked. “I feel kind of bad for scaring you every time we talk, but I think you’re a pretty good person. Are you going anywhere for lunch? If you’re not, you should come to the cafeteria with me. I’ll introduce you to my friends.”

Sehun was barely able to suppress a smile.

“I’m not going anywhere, and sure. I’d like that.”

--

“Ne, Yixing!” A husky voice called from a table near the corner of the cafeteria. Yixing continued ambling along with Sehun, pointing out the different tables and the clubs they belonged to.

“That’s the dance team,” he said, conspicuously pointing towards a rowdy table of lithe, lanky males. “Over there is the film-making committee. They film the morning announcements and advertisements for our school.”

“Is there a photography club table?” Sehun asked, slowing down considerably to match Yixing’s swaggering walk.

“Hn… Yes, but let’s just say I don’t really fit in with them,” Yixing said lightly, avoiding Sehun’s eyes.

“Xing! You’re so late today,” the husky voice from before exclaimed irritably.

“Sorry, Zi Tao,” Yixing apologized sincerely before taking a seat next to the boy. “I made a new friend today; he’s new in my nature photo class.”

“Oh?” Zi Tao looked up at Sehun, who was awkwardly staring down at them, inwardly debating whether or not he should sit with them.

“Well,” Zi Tao pouted, fixing a glare at Sehun, “you can’t sit with us.”

Sehun felt his heart drop from disappointment, and his stomach plunged. Of course; what had he expected? Once an outcast, always an outcast –

His self-pitying thoughts were cut off by a sharp slap and a low whimper of protest.

“Tao! You idiot,” Yixing groaned, shaking his hand in the air. “Would you please stop referencing those cliché y girl phrases?”

“Oww, sorry,” Tao wailed, hands clutching his face. “I’m sorry, Yixing’s new friend! Please come back, it was a joke!”

“Sehun, please don’t feel bad because of this fool. He secretly pulls all-nighters watching chick flicks. Over winter break, he forced me to watch “Mean Girls” and “Pitch Perfect” with him.” Yixing sighed.

“Ahh! I’ve been shot!” Tao gasped theatrically, clutching at his chest.

Yixing rolled his eyes. “Did I mention that he’s majoring in acting?”

Sehun surprised everyone by laughing, something he hadn’t done in a long time.

--

“Ohh, man,” Yixing said sympathetically, reaching his hand inconspicuously into Zi Tao’s lunch box. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry, Sehun.”

Sehun cast him a skeptical glance, but shrugged. It wasn’t like he had any expectations for much after telling people his story –

“Se…hun,” quiet sobs and sniffles brought Sehun and Yixing’s attentions towards the crying boy between them, face pressed against his hands. “I’m… so sorry about your parents. I’m so sorry for ing earlier, I promise I’ll never do that ever again. You’re so strong… I can barely go by with calling my parents once every month…!”

“There there, baby Tao,” Yixing cooed, rubbing the taller boy’s back.

“I’m… fine, really,” Sehun added quickly, awkwardly patting Zi Tao’s shoulder. “It… was really hard in the beginning. But I’ve moved on, because my parents wouldn’t want me to be at a standstill in life.”

“Uh…” Yixing choked back a sob. Sehun looked at him in alarm, finding that the older boy’s eyes shone with unshed tears.

“Ugh… It’s so frustrating!” Yixing shouted, pummeling the table with his fists.

“What’s wrong, Yixing?” Zi Tao asked, wiping his tears away and focusing on the irate boy.

“I… I don’t know,” Yixing sobbed. “I know this feeling… Losing someone you love dearly. But I don’t remember loving anyone aside from family, or someone in my life dying. Why…?”

A shadow cast over their table, and a large hand dropped down onto Yixing’s head, gently ruffling his curly brown locks.

“It’s okay, Yixing,” a deep voice rumbled sadly, “I told you that if it’s real, you’ll find out in time.”

“It’s been a whole semester now, and I’ve been having these nightmares,” Yixing cried, holding his head in his hands. “I just… wake up feeling empty.”

“Wu Fan, what’s he talking about?” Zi Tao asked worriedly.

Wu Fan shook his head and sat down next to Sehun.

“Not right now. We’ll talk about it later.”

--

The tall man who joined them was named Wu Fan, an art major.

“Abstract art,” Yixing had sniffed once he’d recovered from his outburst.

“I prefer to call it ‘nonrepresentational expressionism’, Yixing,” Wu Fan huffed back.

Once they’d all been introduced, Zi Tao had grinned comically.

“Welcome to our band of outsiders, Sehun! We pretty much don’t fit in with the rest of the groups, so we just met by sitting at the one empty table. Hanging out together is fun though, and if three is a crowd, then four is a convention, right?”

Yixing rolled his eyes at Zi Tao’s comment, and Wu Fan chuckled. Sehun also laughed, but deep inside, he realized he really would always be an outsider.

But, strangely enough, he was okay with it.

--

“Professor Minseok… I’m Oh Sehun, here for the portfolio review,” Sehun paced back and forth in front of the door after moments of waiting, to no avail.

“Oh, Sehun! Please come in,” Professor Minseok called. His voice sounded slightly muffled, but Sehun cast it aside and hurried into the lecture hall.

Once inside, he was greeted by the sight of a mountain of papers teetering precariously over the professor, who had a facial mask on. Clouds of dust rained lightly around his desk, and papers fluttered softly to the floor.

“Sorry you had to see this,” Minseok called apologetically, “but I’ve made it a good habit to organize my desk every day after school. Well, come and sit down in your class seat. Let’s go over that portfolio of yours and semester one assignments.”

--

“This Canon camera… I had the exact same one when I was in high school,” Professor Minseok mused to himself. “Small world, huh? Well, small camera franchise world, I suppose.”

Sehun nodded silently, his nerves eating up his vocal cords. The pictures the professor was about to see were merely taken from his old bedroom window in Seoul; mostly buildings and city architecture. The most recent photos were taken during his bus ride to Shaanxi, and he hadn’t checked his pictures for clarity and blurriness…

“Wow,” Professor Minseok breathed. “Just… simply breathtaking. I’m amazed that you were able to create this art with this camera.”

“Thank you very much,” Sehun gushed, nerves releasing their tenuous hold on his voice.

“Oh… You had your camera open to the twentieth photo in the entire gallery,” Minseok said, bemused. “I’m going to view all of them, is that all right?”

“Oh, no, you shouldn’t –“

The professor’s eyes widened, and his jaw opened slightly. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his noses, he uttered a soft “oh my god.”

Minseok stared at the camera’s small display screen for a few more moments before clicking the left button. His eyes drew in every single picture.

Looking up at Sehun, Minseok exhaled unsteadily.

“So you were the one who Mom gave my camera to.”

--

“I’m back, Luhan,” Sehun called cheerfully as he stepped into the quaint little cabin. The lunchtime conversation with Yixing’s friends had been fun and uplifting (for the most part), and the lesson with Professor Minseok wasn’t as nerve-wracking as Sehun had imagined it to be. After Sehun explained to him how he received the camera, Minseok had nodded happily. ‘I’m glad she was able to reach out to you,’ he said. ‘I’m also really happy that I’m able to teach you. My mom really has an eye for talent; it’s truly an honor to be working with you.’

School was going well so far, to say the least.

“Welcome back, Sehun-ah,” Luhan walked into view, wiping his hands with a small blue washcloth. His silver hair was slicked back with sweat and a headband; his black wife beater clung tightly around his thin frame. “You sound really happy,” Luhan smiled wide, light pink spreading across his cheeks. “I’m glad school went well for you.”

Breath catching in his throat, Sehun forced himself to smile when Luhan tilted his head at him quizzically.

“Ah, I’ve been cooking,” Luhan explained, embarrassedly crossing his arms in an attempt to conceal his revealed neckline. “I figured that it’s normal to wear clothes that are out-of-the-way while cooking, so that’s why I’m dressed like this…”

‘Not in the winter,’ Sehun thought to himself, but continued to quietly admire Luhan’s toned arms. Always having been too focused on getting by in his daily life, Sehun never had the time to commit to a sport or an exercise routine. His body was skinny, unattractive…

“Sehun-ah, I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but I won’t allow you looking so unsure of yourself,” Luhan piped up sternly, surprising Sehun with his tone. Luhan stepped forward so that he was right in front of Sehun. Pausing momentarily, Luhan turned away grudgingly before stepping backwards.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour. You should finish your homework… When you’re done, I’ll teach you how to cook.”

Surprised by Luhan’s sudden statement, Sehun nodded wordlessly before unlacing his shoes.

For once, life was looking up.

A/N: 3.15k words, please enjoy ^^ Enter Yixing, Zi Tao, and Wu Fan, the mischievous yet mysterious (?) friends.