A month into the semester and the trees were finally flowering again. Something about starting high school while the frost was still present was just depressing, but with the pinks and greens of the buds sprouting from branches and the ground beside the path to school, Kwangyeon felt much more comfortable and enthusiastic about his first year. With a huff of fresh air, his chest pushed out and he stretched before picking up his pace along the uphill path, passing a few tired students who dragged themselves to the gates behind him.

                Entering class he had already greeted a few teachers and acquaintances rather positively; unlike his usual passive waves or nods of the head he actually said hello to people with a smile. The only one this new optimism would be normal to was—

                “Kwangyeon~!” A boisterous voice called out to the boy as he entered his homeroom, and Kwangyeon gleamed back, though, like always, a little embarrassed by his friend’s confidence.

                “Byullie-hyung, you’re not even in this class.” Kwangyeon sounded annoyed, but he had a cheerful face that said just how much he enjoyed the other’s antics. Hanbyul might have been a year ahead of him, but they were always comfortable around each other, some might say a little too comfortable with how noisy or rambunctious they could get. Chuckling, he showed the elder his toothy smile and Hanbyul returned the gift by pulling out a seat for him. Really, he just pulled back the chair that was in front of the seat he had already commandeered, next to the window as they both preferred. However, Hanbyul seemed a little too excited this morning, since usually he was tired as all hell from messing around on the net the night before (which Kwangyeon only knew about since he would stay up most of the night chatting with him), and was practically bouncing in his seat while Kwangyeon sat down. He didn’t say a word though, and Kwangyeon, after putting away his books rather carelessly into the desk, finally mustered enough inquiry to question him about it. “So spill it, what do you wanna say?”

                Hanbyul smirked and leaned back in his chair, thinking himself so clever as he crossed his arms over his chest and one leg over the other. With his chin held up, he pointed one finger in the air and gleamed, “I win.” It was only then Kwangyeon realized his situation and slapped his own forehead, groaning in aggravation.

                “The bet…” Kwangyeon lamented and wiped his hand down his face, leaning his head against the window while he looked up in agony. “I totally forgot about it, why didn’t you say anything a week ago?”

                “Because then you would have actually tried and might have won.” Hanbyul shrugged while his ego grew, which probably wouldn’t even fit the entire school by now if it had a physical presence. They had bet at the beginning of the year on who could make it to school first the most by the end of the month, and unfortunately the younger had lost all care for it after the first week. Hanbyul was sly however, and didn’t remind him at all, probably greeting the boy every morning while simultaneously keeping count of his advantage. “Anyway, since I won you know what that means…” Lifting himself up, the older boy clapped his hands together once, that smirk still spread over his face. Reaching out to pat Kwangyeon’s head, he sighed, “You’re my now.”

                One girl finishing some work next to them glowered at them both, looking away when Kwangyeon noticed. The boy groaned again and glared up at his senior, “Fine, so what do I have to do. And don’t make it something dumb like giving you money.” Kwangyeon crossed his own arms and leaned back against the window, waiting for his sentence while Hanbyul relished in it all.

                “I’ve been thinking it over for a few weeks,” He collected himself and sat back in his seat, leaning on the desk closer to the boy as if they were making some closed doors deal. With an intent Kwangyeon had never really seen in Hanbyul’s eyes before, the elder paused for a brief moment to build up Kwangyeon’s anticipation. “You have to dye your hair pink.”

                “What?!”

                “You have to dye your hair pink!”

                “I heard you the first time! Are you insane?!” Kwangyeon’s voice cracked and a few other classmates looked at him strangely, including the girl next to them who had already been annoyed by them both.

                “No, I’m actually kinda smart.” Hanbyul nodded to himself and sat back in his seat, pointing to his cheek while his dimple appeared with his smile. “In the second week of school, you came in one morning looking so bloated in the face one day it was hilarious!”

                Kwangyeon tapped the side of his head on the window as he faced the older boy in misery. “I know, I couldn’t help it since I was up all night doing work.”

                “That’s not the point.” Hanbyul cut in and dropped his finger to point back at the boy. “Your cheeks were soooo big it looked like you were chewing gum. So I thought it’d fit that you have bubblegum pink hair.” Hanbyul felt proud of himself as he sat there and gloated about his win while Kwangyeon lay there in anxiety. He’d certainly get in trouble for dying his hair, especially such an obscurely bright color like pink. Though, Kwangyeon was never a perfect student, so as much as he played a poor pathetic victim in Hanbyul’s scheme, he was all too willing to enact the punishment himself.

                Shortly after, the bell rang for homeroom and one of Kwangyeon’s classmates stood in front of them. “You’re in my seat.” His voice was quiet, but his bluntness certainly wasn’t. They both stared at the boy, his hair parted slightly to the side, though still dark like the expression he gave them. Since Kwangyeon recognized him as the class president, he already knew that he just always looked like that, but Hanbyul was a little intimidated. He quickly apologized and got up, standing over Kwangyeon to ruffle his hair and wink.

                “See you tomorrow, Pinkyeon.” Snickering, he ran out of the room before Kwangyeon could throw something at him, and before he missed his own class (since surprisingly, Hanbyul was a straight-A’s student with a perfect attendance), leaving Kwangyeon to sit there in recovery. The president took his seat behind Kwangyeon, who intended not to bother the boy the rest of class.

                Class president Seo Youngjun was always a little strange. He didn’t talk to anyone and if he did it was only because of his duty as a president to chastise or give them jobs to do. Kwangyeon barely paid attention to him since the boy was behind him all the time, but he didn’t think they’d have any common interests anyway. Half the class didn’t like him because they were scolded by him, the other half avoided him because his face was intimidating, and it made Kwangyeon wonder if the guy even had any friends outside of class.

                Before he could get too lost in his thoughts about the other, the teacher came in to take roll and classes began for the day. However, Kwangyeon was still too bent on the idea of dying his hair tonight to really pay attention, growing more anxious the closer he got to the end of the day.

                After school, Kwangyeon stopped by the store before he went home, thinking it best to do the job himself than to pay a hairdresser only to come home and scare his parents. Hanbyul had his own clubs to go to, so the boy was on his own. Either way, he was pretty sure that Hanbyul didn’t even expect him to go through with it, but as he purchased the dye and bleach he could only imagine his friend’s expression after the deed was done.

                It was when he was at home, staring at the chemicals as they were spread out over his bedroom floor that he became cautious. He didn’t want to completely screw up his hair, so just how the hell do you dye your hair? It seemed so easy thinking about it, but now Kwangyeon was frantically searching different websites and conflicting instructions for hours before he finally came up with a plan. He tried to follow the instructions to a T, scavenging through his closet for some gloves he was sure he had. There was no way he was going to go downstairs at the risk of his mom asking what he needed disposable gloves for. He found some old games he beat years ago, a few 500 won coins scattered across the floor, and some ill-fitting clothes that had grown moth balls by now, but no gloves. Resorting to the bathroom however, he found some and began the process, attentively following the directions from both the internet and the boxes of the chemicals he was now pouring and lathering over his head.

                Eventually he found a moment of peace after hours of work and had to let the dye sit under his hair cap. Moving back to his room, he spent most of the time looking through his closet again, hoping to find a few more coins or even paper money that he could use later. Carelessly, he bumped into a box and knocked over his old white bass that had been sitting there for a year or two now. He caught it by the neck and sighed out of relief. Even if he decided not to play it anymore, since he thought it was just a thing for middle schoolers to do, it was still valuable to him. All those hours and callouses from practicing, he’d actually gotten pretty good before he quit. Of course, he never really showed it off to anyone outside his family or a few old friends he’d parted with after middle school. Hanbyul was probably the only one at his school now that still knew he could play, since they’d been friends for a few years now, just like Kwangyeon had known that Hanbyul was a really good singer after they’d gone to karaoke together a few times. But just like playing bass, Hanbyul, perhaps after the influence of his parents, thought singing was a kid’s thing and didn’t get too involved with it. It was too late at night to play it, but Kwangyeon strummed a few of the strings before realizing just how much they needed to be tuned. For a while he sat there, listening to the notes he quietly played as to not wake anyone, fixing their pitches to what they should sound like before his head got itchy. Quickly, Kwangyeon put the bass back into the closet and rushed to the bathroom, washing out the excess dye and finishing the process. After drying his hair, he brushed his fingers through the pink locks and stared in awe at the mirror. He didn’t think it’d be this colorful or bright. Since when was pink such a loud color? Not willing to regret his own actions, he breathed in and threw away the emptied containers, heading to bed for what he expected to be a long day tomorrow.

•••••

                Kwangyeon had never been happier over the fact it was raining. It didn’t even cross his mind that he would have to even make it past the teachers at the gate before reaching the classroom to show up Hanbyul when he changed his hair. Still, thanks to the fact he could get by pretty easily with a hooded jacket, he swiftly headed to his classroom with a smile inching across his face. Maybe it was just excitement, but only he could tell it was probably because of his own cockiness in getting to surprise Hanbyul. He’d wandered through the halls without his coat, his uniform still the same and his greetings unusually peppy like yesterday. Only his hair was acting like some sort of beacon that attracted the shocked, and enamored from a few girls, gazes of fellow classmates. Before anyone could stop him, he opened the door to his class and stood there triumphantly… for nothing.

                Hanbyul wasn’t there like he almost always was. There were a few other students in the class all staring in awe at him, but the desks along the window were vacant. Did Kwangyeon get there first? He thought maybe his senior was in his own class already and went to check to no avail. Gripping the strap of his satchel, he pouted and carried his things back to his own class. He pulled the door open and trudged to his seat while the others whispered among themselves, obviously pointing him out and gossiping about his crazy stunt. Without Hanbyul to show off to, he sat there and dwelled on it, pulling on some of his bubblegum-colored bangs and reconsidering how this might have been a bad idea.

                He wasn’t sulking long, when a hand tapped on his shoulder from behind. Kwangyeon sat up and spun around, expecting it to be his missing friend. Instead, he met with the somber expression of Youngjun who was only staring at his hair. “You know it’s against the rules to dye your hair.” His voice was quiet, which was rare for an authoritative figure, but it didn’t really bother Kwangyeon.

                “I know…” the boy mumbled and sighed, leaning against the window again to face the other. “So what am I gonna have to do?”

                Youngjun shrugged, “Probably just some cleaning if it’s your first time.”

                The boy blinked and raised his brow at the answer. “You’re not gonna report me?”

                “Nope.” Youngjun opened the book in front of him and kept reading from where he left off. The two were silent, and Kwangyeon didn’t move either. “The teacher will deal with it.” He turned the page in his book and Kwangyeon turned around, groaning. He should have expected much, but at least Youngjun wasn’t going to snitch on him.

                The bell rang and class began, the teacher immediately catching sight of Kwangyeon and giving him cleaning duties in some rooms upstairs, but the rest of the day went by as usual. He cursed Hanbyul for not being there this morning and sat there to himself during lunch, finding it easier to listen to some music and watch the rain lighten up outside than acknowledge what everyone was saying about him; he’d rather not let their gossip ruin his bread. That is, until someone ran into his desk and ripped the bud out of his ear. Kwangyeon’s hand went flying to his ear to cover it and looked back at Hanbyul who was now panting over his desk, taking in every inch of his new hair.

                “You really did it… It’s… pink.” Hanbyul ran his fingers through some of the boy’s hair, like he expected it to feel entirely different too, before Kwangyeon swatted his hand away with a sour look.

                “You totally ruined my surprise this morning. I knew I’d get in trouble, but I hoped I’d at least get some fun out of it before then-“

                “They already reprimanded you too? Agh! I missed everything!” He sat in the empty seat in front of Kwangyeon, slumping against the wall in exaggerated sadness. Staring back at the boy’s hair, he couldn’t take his eyes off it and laughed a bit. “At least it looks good. You should’ve heard all the stuff the girls in my class were saying,” He cleared his throat and leaned on Kwangyeon’s desk, sprawled over his books still open before him. In a higher pitch, he lamented, “Ah~ I wish someone in our class would do that.” He altered the pitch slightly as if it were a different person and replied to himself, “Too bad there’s no one as cute in our class.” Hanbyul glared up at Kwangyeon who was now sitting back in his own chair, trying not to laugh at his impersonations. “Can you believe they said that? They don’t even think I’m cute!” Taking some of the kid’s bread, he shoved it into his mouth before Kwangyeon could retaliate, grumbling between his bites. “I’m so cuter than you…”

                Kwangyeon couldn’t contain it anymore and burst out laughing, messing around with Hanbyul for the rest of lunch. Before the elder had to leave for his own class, he rested on his elbow and frowned, “Maybe I’ll see you later, since I gotta clean some classes upstairs or something…”

                “Actually,” Hanbyul chimed in, chuckling a bit as he got up to leave. “I don’t have any clubs today, so you’re on your own.” Patting the boy’s back, he ran out again before the bell, leaving Kwangyeon to sulk alone in his seat for the rest of the day.

•••••

                Kwangyeon watched as everyone began swarming out of the school, like dots from the floor he was on. He waited in the empty, unused classroom alone before a teacher finally entered, followed by a few other students who had been caught for something. He didn’t know any of them, or if he did it was only their name, but they all glared back at him like Kwangyeon had offended them just being there. Maybe it was his hair, he thought, but he really doubted it with how much they looked disgusted of him overall. They were probably delinquents, so it was no use in trying to be friendly to them. Better to just stay out of the way.

                “Are you serious? We have to clean this dump?” A few of them complained and moaned about the work they knew they’d have to do, some already carrying a few brooms, mops, and buckets into the room as the teacher scolded them further.

                “You all won’t stop causing trouble, so you’ll keep doing this work.” She was young, but very strict, and simply left after giving a few directions to the group. Some of them swept lazily across the floor while others dug through some old desks for any leftover goods to take, but really they had no intention of cleaning it. Instead, they sat around in a few of the remaining seats, one or two smoking since the window was open.

                “Didn’t we just clean this room last week?”

                “Exactly, that doesn’t like us so she thinks we didn’t even do anything.” One of the boys lifted his arms out and looked around the room, “This place looks a hundred times better than before!” They all started cackling and threw away their butts, which Kwangyeon ended up sweeping away as he tried to clean the room a bit.

                After about thirty minutes of them throwing cigarettes in his direction, Kwangyeon finally bit his lip and stood the broom up on the floor beside him. Gripping onto the handle in frustration, he looked back at the group, “Can you throw those out the window?” He tried to be stern, but now with their attention all on them, he started to lose confidence. They looked at each other before a few stood, muttering some insults his way as they approached him. One of them touched his hair before Kwangyeon backed away and held the broom to his chest, both hands gripping the handle awkwardly. They only stopped, however, when their boss stood from his seat, clicking his teeth while the others most likely waited for him to give them permission to beat up Kwangyeon.

                Their leader was Lee Kyumin, the tallest student in his year, and probably the whole school. He had sharp features and a look that could kill, but no one outside of his posse really knew what he was like. There were constant rumors about him getting into fights with popular gangs in Seoul, or how his dad is the ringleader of crime in the city, but Kwangyeon always passed it off as mindless gossip. They weren’t in the same class, so he barely saw Kyumin, but if they passed in the hall or outside of school, Kwangyeon was always intrigued by his rather indifferent attitude. So far, he hadn’t participated in cleaning the place, but he didn’t joke around with his underlings either. Now, he couldn’t say what the man would do.

                Slowly approaching Kwangyeon, he picked up one of the metal buckets laid on its side off the floor and pressed it against the boy’s chest. Kwangyeon dropped his broom and took the bucket in both hands, staring up at Kyumin anxiously. Kyumin didn’t break from his gaze and let out a breath, “You’ll need some water to mop.” To Kwangyeon’s surprise, the other’s voice was incredibly delicate. Maybe it was because he was practically whispering to Kwangyeon, but Kyumin had such a unique way of talking… he kind of wished he heard it more often.

                Kyumin walked back to his table while the others followed, ignoring Kwangyeon while he walked out. Getting some water wasn’t a bad idea, since at least he wouldn’t have to sit in a stuffy room full of smoke and guys who hated him. It was just annoying that he’d now be the one having to do all the work. Holding the bucket by its handle at his side, he took his time heading toward the bathroom, texting Hanbyul about his experience so far in this limited free time. In the middle of typing though, he heard a faint noise. He thought it might have been a club meeting of some sort, but it was music playing. Curious, he walked closer to the source, the bucket clanging against his leg as he approached the classroom in question. There were a few other students inside, and one from his class: Seo Youngjun.

                Kwangyeon watched as they were assembled like a band, playing some old rock song, but he focused on his class president playing guitar so peacefully. The singer was a girl a year above them, and her voice was muffled by the instruments so he couldn’t really tell what song they were playing. For all he knew, it could be something they made up. Still, he wasn’t over the fact that his quiet, cold class president looked so elated playing his polished, red guitar.

                Suddenly he heard the sound of footsteps echoing as they raced down the hall ahead of him. Some other second-year student was rushing toward the classroom from the opposite direction, a guitar case bobbing behind him. Kwangyeon stood in place as the student ran into the room from the door further down, catching his breath as the others slowly stopped playing. “Sorry I’m late!” The others looked like they expected him, and the girl even ran over to hug him as a greeting, but Youngjun just stood there, holding his guitar against his lap.

                The girl brushed some hair out of her face and smiled back bashfully at the others before facing Youngjun with some hesitation. “Ah… Youngjun… We meant to tell you sooner…”

                “Tell me what?” Youngjun’s voice seemed softer than usual, and Kwangyeon could tell this situation was entirely too awkward even as a passerby.

                The drummer and bassist stood away and shuffled their feet, trying to not be a part of the “we” the singer had brought up. “Well... We agreed that where you want the band to go, and where we see it going are too different.” She wrapped her arm around the other guitarist’s and gleamed back at Youngjun. “You remember Hyunwoo right?”

                “Your boyfriend.” Youngjun’s voice was low and cold, his fingers gripped tight around the neck of the guitar. He eyed the man, who just seemed to shudder and avoid the boy’s glance best he could.

                “Yeah! See, he sees the band like we do… it’s just a way to pass some time and have a little fun sometimes.” She giggled and glanced at the two who stood there wordlessly, as if speaking for them too. “You’re just too serious about this stuff, there’s no way we’d be able to keep doing this even a year from now.” Trying to look as sincere as possible, she bit her lip and brushed some hair behind her ear, now avoiding Youngjun’s intense look too. “Sorry…”

                Kwangyeon was utterly shocked at the scene. To him, it was obvious the singer just wanted her boyfriend in the group so they could be together more, but still how they treated Youngjun was a little unnerving. Youngjun on the other hand didn’t really seem fazed, but instead stood there a moment. He looked around at them all before unplugging his guitar from a nearby amp, removing the strap, and zipping it back into its case. Silently, he strung the case over his shoulder and didn’t even look at the others as he left. Kwangyeon quickly turned around, trying to play it off like he was just passing by, the bucket making racket against his leg as it swung around right when Youngjun walked out. For a split second, Kwangyeon looked up at the president and stopped in place while the boy kept walking ahead; Youngjun definitely looked like he’d been crying.

                The pink-haired boy found his first insight into what the somber class president was really like, and it was only upsetting. In the end, he returned to the dirty classroom without any water and found it completely empty, yet seemingly dirtier than before. The other boys had left already, and the sun was now setting. Giving up, Kwangyeon left as well, texting Hanbyul about what happened, but never sending the message. He thought it’d be best if he was the only one that knew about what happened.

                By the time he got home it was already dark out and Kwangyeon was exhausted. He forgot his parents didn’t know about his hair yet either, and was just as surprised as they were when they first saw it. After much scolding and weaseling out, he dropped his bag in his room and flopped onto his bed, exhaling into his pillow. He didn’t know what he expected from the night before, but getting threatened by some delinquents and witnessing his class president getting kicked out of his band wasn’t something he could say he enjoyed.  Lifting himself up, he sat crossed-legged on his bed reimagining it all before getting up and rummaging through his closet again. Gently retrieving his old bass, he sat back on the bed and traced his fingers over the strings, closing his eyes and pushing his fingers across the chords. The sounds started ringing out more pleasantly, and eventually Kwangyeon found himself playing the instrument until he passed out on the spot. He forgot how good it felt to make music.