A/N : for Nabilabella, if you are still reading this, for being the first to comment on my fic. Thanks again because you made it feel like it was worth to keep writing the story of the yellow letters. :)

“…but I hope you understand : you are special.”

Even after Kris has neatly folded away the letter the words stay with him. Every time Kyungsoo snaps at him in frustration, every time the vocal instructor reminds him to work harder to make up for his mediocrity, every time he slips on stage and messes up a choreography routine and has to read the derisive comments of anti-fans online for days he thinks of those words. You are special. They settle over him warm and brilliant, shrouding him from the rest of the world and its million opinions.

It’s 11.50pm on Friday night. Kris is lying on the ground of a practice room, spread-eagled and panting comically. Jongin and Sehun are lying down next to him, Henry is plopped headfirst on Yixing’s lap and Taemin  is having a secret, whispered conversation on the phone in the other corner of the room. (Only it’s not so secret because these rooms amplify sound well and Kris hears something about handcuffs and thinks that he’d rather not know.) Together they are SM’s favourite sub-unit.

“Hyung.” Jongin says turning to face him, his eyes spell fatigue. “Hyung, I think I’m dying.”

“No you are not,” Kris replies in a soothing voice. He reaches over awkwardly with his right hand to pat Jongin’s hair because Sehun is currently using his left as his personal pillow. Sehun grumbles when this movement jostles his head and Kris stills again. His arm is going numb.

“No, I think he is dying too. Only not his body but is brain. That’s why he gets dumber by the day.”

Jongin’s head snaps up at this comment and he stares accusingly at Sehun. Sehun giggles at this and curls up into Kris’ side like a lazy cat. “Look hyung, he making dumb faces again.”

Jongin reaches across Kris and flicks Sehun in the forehead who retaliates with a kick that hurts Kris more than it does Jongin.

“I don’t look dumb. I’m like god’s gift to all women kind, ok. I bet even Kris hyung thinks so.” Jongin defends his bronze skin and y smirks.

“Right. Suuure. I think you are forgetting about that time you tried to throw your tshirt at a fan girl and the stylist team had to cut it off you because you managed to get it tangled up in your ear piercings. I was there. Kris hyung was there. He laughed so hard that he accidently slapped himself across the face.”

“Shut up. Shut up.” Jongin pokes at Sehun, curling into Kris mimicking Sehun’s posture. It’s too hot and Kris’s whole body hurts but he lets them hold on to him like little koalas and bicker because he knows that they are only comfortable enough to do this with him. Because he knows that they like it when he is in the middle like this: an indulgent father, stopping their bickering before it crosses too many lines, , occasionally coming up with a comment that they will find stupidly hilarious for no reason at all and gently patting away the exhaustion from the taut lines of their bodies.

It’s 1.45am on Friday night (or Saturday morning) and Yixing stops the music for the umpteenth time because Kris was off beat again and this puts the whole group off the next set of steps.

Yixing doesn’t say anything; harsh words were never his thing no matter how exhausted or frustrated he is. This makes something in Kris’ chest hurt because he knows how tired Yixing is, how tired they all are, and yet they don’t so much as look at him angrily. They merely move back into the starting positions and it’s a testament to their love for him that they don’t complain, not even Sehun who is spoiled as spoiled can be. Kris’ eyes sting and he looks at them gratefully through the mirror and Yixing displays his dimples, good-humouredly starting the music again.

“From the top then. And one, two, one, two, three, four.”

It’s 3am on Saturday morning and Kris is feels aches and pains in muscles he never knew even existed. It’s 3am on Saturday morning and Kris is determined to get it all right, practicing even long after the others had left.

He is taking a water break and replaying the video of their practice that Yixing recoded when the door opens and Luhan’s head pops in.

“What are you doing here up so late?” kris asks, surprised. Unless Kris has a schedule that runs a little late Luhan usually gets to leave by 5.30 in the evening.

“SNSD is coming back with a Chinese album. I was helping Kyungsoo out with the lyrics.”

“Oh, ok.” Kris eyes the two tall cups of Coffee in Luhan’s hand. The smell is starting to make him salivate.

“I was walking past before. Saw you guys practicing. The growl remix version, right?” Kris nods. “Yixing left though. But- but I didn’t see you leave. Figured you were still here.” Luhan’s voice sounds hesitant, uncertain.

Kris blinks, not sure where he is going with this.

“SoIfiguredthatifyouwerearoundyouwouldlikesomecoffee.” Luhan spews out in one breath and Kris gapes at him.

“Say what?”

“Um.. I mean,would you like some coffee?”

Luhan, confident, playful Luhan, is the one Kris is used to. Not the timid, undecided, stumbling-all-over-his-words Luhan.  Kris thinks about a sasaeng fan’s arm around his neck and Luhan’s warm one on his arm, he thinks of a heart stuttering with