Jonghyun hates six o’clock in the morning.

          He hates eight o’clock in the morning, too, but he’s going to have to say that he hates six o’clock a lot more because while eight o’clock is when he has to turn his cell phone off or risk having it confiscated when the first bell rings to start announcements, six o’clock is when he has to wake up and face the fact that he has to be at school in order to live through ing eight o’clock.

          But he would much rather drag himself out of bed than pretend the family housekeeper didn’t already ring him through the intercom three minutes ago and go back to sleep because then the housekeeper will send their butler to roll Jonghyun out of bed and that’s always painful.

          Especially if Jonghyun falls first to the floor.

          Although that’s still a lot better than face first like last Tuesday because then the little bits of carpet fluff will get stuck in his hair no matter how hard he shampoos and then his hyungs will laugh themselves sick.

          He sits up and rubs his hands over his eyes first and then through the three-toned blond forest that is currently his hair. He sighs, only it comes out sounding more like a hybrid between a cough and a sneeze. Jonghyun sneaks a glance to the right side of his bed—the side he never sleeps on these days because it’s always occupied by a particular someone.

          But of course, Someone always leaves right after Jonghyun falls asleep and Jonghyun has no idea how Someone does it because if Jonghyun called his driver up that late to pick him up from someone else’s house—even if it is another boy’s house—his parents will probably have aneurysms.

          Then again, Someone is Kim Kibum and Jonghyun as long since learned that Kim Kibum can pretty do anything the he wants and it will still be awesome.

          And these days, Anything is Kim Jonghyun.

          He is pretty awesome, isn’t he?

          Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter how awesome he is because no one feels awesome at six o’clock in the morning and Jonghyun isn’t as magical as Kim Kibum so he’s part of that worldwide majority. He stares straight ahead for a few more minutes at the bookshelf he never uses because he hates reading but his parents insist on having one in his room anyway and it makes him look smart when girls come over.

          The first time Kibum came over, he looked at the bookshelf and started laughing so hard Jonghyun thought his parents would wake up. “You don’t need books,” the younger boy had choked out and Jonghyun almost threw him out the window.

          Except Kibum’s taller than him so he doesn’t think that would’ve worked out so great.

          Jonghyun slips out of bed, still from the night before because he hates having to put on clothes when he’s still sweating and sticky. He looks at his phone, lying on his nightstand next to his iPod and unfinished chemistry homework, and thinks briefly about whether he should text Kibum or not. Then again, Kibum’s phone is most likely off and in the locker rooms since Jonghyun knows that whether there’s practice or not, Kibum is always at the pool before school starts.

          He takes the cell phone into his hand and unlocks it, because maybe he should text Kibum—just to say hi or good morning or something. He doesn’t usually talk to the other boy outside of school—and what they do partake in outside of school isn’t really considered talking—but now and again he does ask how Kibum is doing just to be polite and it’s been a while so maybe he should text him, just for courtesies’ sake after all—

          “Why are you , Jonghyunnie?”

          Out of pure instinct, Jonghyun drops his phone to the ground with one hand while simultaneously grabbing his bed sheet and wrapping it around his waist with the other. He doesn’t even see the face of the speaker until he’s well on his way to constructing himself a makeshift toga.

          “What the , hyung?” he shoots back at Joon.

          The third year is standing in the doorway looking slightly confused and vaguely mortified at Jonghyun’s state of undress. “Did you Kibum-shii again?” he asks, looking glum.

          “No—I just got hired at a strip club and forgot to put on clothes on the way back, that’s all,” Jonghyun says.

          “That’s terrible,” Joon says sympathetically. “The nearest strip club to your house is like twelve kilometers away.”

          Jonghyun blinks and decides he’s not going to ask because the last time he asked, it resulted in accidentally green armpit hair and wrongly delivered . “Hyung, just shut up,” he says, opening his closet and pulling out uniform shirt, pants, and his blazer. “Where’s my ing tie?” He whirls around and looks at Joon who has now taken a seat on Jonghyun’s bed. “Where is it?”

          Joon blinks up at him blankly. “Your tie?”

          But Jonghyun is already whirring backwards in time through last night and then through the afternoon and then through yesterday’s school day and—

          “Oh my God.” He stares at the third year in horror. “Hyung—I didn’t.”

          Joon’s mouth has fallen open now—not from shock as opposed to just plain boredom. “Jonghyun-ah,” he says, “we’re going to be late and you haven’t even showered yet.”

          “Hyung,” Jonghyun says slowly, “Kibummie has my tie.”

          From the continuously empty expression on Joon’s face, Jonghyun suspects that the older boy doesn’t understand the severity and the consequences of this. “Hyung,” he tries again, “Kibummie has it because when we did it after school yesterday, there were still people around in the bathroom, so I had to use my tie—“

          “No—no—stop—don’t—just—urgh—gross—how could you—Jonghyun-ah—to your hyung,” Joon says, horrified. “Jonghyun-ah.”

          “I’m going to get a dress code detention,” Jonghyun says sadly. “I’m going to get detention and this is going to be my third dress code, so I’m going to get a public detention and my weekend is going to be ed.”

          Joon frowns, standing up. “Why don’t you just find him before school starts and ask him where it is? Kibum-shii’s always there super early, isn’t he?”

          Jonghyun is so unfortunate in life that he has the luck of having the stupidest hyung in existence—because it makes perfect sense that witty and clever Kim Jonghyun who-gets-all-the-ladies struggles to maintain a C+ in the most basic subjects and retarded Lee Joon who-chooses-to-waste-his-looks-on-a-teacher can easily get A+’s in any AP class he so wishes to take.

          “Joonie-hyung,” he says, even slower this time. “Do you remember who surrounds Kim Kibum like gnats wherever he goes at school?”

          Joon puffs out his cheeks.

          “They hate me, hyung,” Jonghyun states matter-of-factly. “If I went up to Kibummie while he’s surrounded with his stupid ’91 line, I’m going to get squished. The only ones who might not squish me are probably Mir-shii because he knows you and maybe Dongwoon-shii—but Doojoon-hyung probably thinks it’d be funny so I wouldn’t bet on it.”

          “Maybe if you stopped making him your buddy they wouldn’t hate you,” Joon says indifferently, and when Jonghyun looks back at his hyung, he deflates just a little bit because even though he thinks it’s hideously unfair that Joon gets the grades he does, there is after all still a reason why he gets the grades he does.

          The girls Jonghyun flirts with always tell him that while Joon-oppa looks positively angelic when he’s smiling, the built of his features makes him look terrifying when he’s serious. In all honesty thought, even without girls telling him this, he would have known it anyway—Joon has always been the epitome of the kinder a person is, the more frightening the person is when he or she is angry.

          “I’m not making him,” Jonghyun mumbles as he threads his belt through the loops of his pants. He stuffs the rest of his shirt tail into his waistband and haphazardly adjusts his collar. “Like—I seriously don’t get what you guys want me to do. Don’t you think Kibummie will be weirded out if I just tell him I don’t want to him anymore all of a sudden? He’d probably be pissed.”

          Joon hoists his backpack back over his shoulder as Jonghyun does the same, pushing in the remnants of attempted homework into the front pocket. “Has it ever maybe occurred to you,” Joon says as Jonghyun grabs his swim bag from the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom—throwing in toothpaste and a toothbrush into the duffel, “that Kibum likes you?”

          They bound down the stairs and pass the kitchen into the garage. The driver takes their backpacks and gym bags and puts them into the trunk as the two boys slide into the car’s backseat. “What—you mean like-likes me?” Jonghyun asks as the garage door opens and the car backs out into the driveway. “I know he likes boys, but he said this is just a friends’ thing.”

          Joon gives him an incredulous look. “Jonghyun-ah,” he says, “if you like girls, why are you ing a boy?”

          Jonghyun shrugs. He knows that this is a question that the entire ’91 line wants to ask him, but in all truthfulness, he never really thought about it as liking girls and ing Kibum. It’s and that’s all that he ever really focused on. “I don’t know—Kibum’s hot, and we’re both . It’s just , hyung—we’re friends and it’s fun. You really shouldn’t worry.”

          Joon stares at him for a moment longer and then sighs. “My dongsaeng is going to die,” he says gloomily, turning to the window on his side. “He’s going to be squished.”

          “Oh,” Jonghyun says dryly, “how supportive of you, hyung.”

          When Jonghyun’s driver drops them off at the front gates of the school, a group of three girls getting out of a car behind them smile to each other and duck as they walk past Joon. The third year doesn’t seem to really notice and Jonghyun thinks that not only is Joon’s ridiculous attractiveness wasted on him, but the older boy is just disgustingly oblivious as well because those girls were hot and Jonghyun is left staring after them, while Joon is still trying to untangle his backpack straps.

          “You are all that’s wrong with the world,” Jonghyun directs at Joon when the third year finally manages to put on his backpack.

          Joon sputters and Jonghyun instinctively blinks to shield his eyes from the spit. “What—I—why?”

          Jonghyun stares and shakes his head, deciding that he doesn’t want to partake in any further retardation. He starts walking up to the courtyard and Joon follows beside him, mouth still opening and closing like a fish out of water the way the older boy always does when he thinks that the world speaks a different language than he does.

          He passes by the mostly empty tables in the courtyard—empty because the weather is growing steadily cooler in the mornings—but stops when he spots Jinki and Minho. Minho’s hair is wet and Jonghyun prays to any deity that might be listening that that means he was just at the pool and that it’s not just because the younger boy showered. “Go on without me, hyung,” he tells Joon and jogs across the yard to his fellow swim team members.

          Minho is the first to turn out of the conversation he’s having with Jinki. “’Morning, hyung,” he says, side-stepping slightly so he faces Jonghyun. Jinki turns around right then and waves, even though Jonghyun is right in front of him.

          “Hey,” Jonghyun says. He his lips. “Um, were you at the pool this morning, Minho-ah?”

          Minho raises his eyebrows. “Yeah—only for a bit though. I just got out from the locker rooms like ten minutes ago.”

          “Oh—um,” one of Jonghyun’s hands goes into his pocket. “Was Kibummie there?”

          His two teammates exchange glances. “He was there earlier, I think,” Minho says, still meeting eyes with the swim team captain. Jinki shrugs at Minho’s continued gaze. “He probably left before I got there, though.”

          “Oh,” Jonghyun repeats. “Oh—okay, then. Thanks, Minho-ah.” He spins on his heel and walks away awkwardly.

          He goes up the rest of the way into the school and then into the cafeteria. With only fifteen minutes left until homeroom begins, it’s filled to the brim with students, some coming and going and some stationary at tables. Jonghyun reaches the ever-familiar table that has been his hyungs’ table since they were first here at the school, and remains standing because he doesn’t have time to sit. He stands right behind where Joon is sitting and across where Yoseob and Doojoon are seated.

          In the same seat.

          Because Yoseob is in Doojoon’s lap and Jonghyun wishes they wouldn’t be this sickening so early in the morning because he hasn’t even had breakfast yet.

          “Where’s your tie?” Yoseob says as a greeting. There is a cup of steaming hot chocolate in front of him on the table, and beside it a plate of powdered doughnut holes. Doojoon’s arms are soldered tightly around the smaller boy’s waist, chin resting on Yoseob’s shoulder. The soccer captain’s eyes are closed and Jonghyun wonders if he’s actually asleep.

          Joon starts laughing and Jonghyun scowls. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbles.

          And of course, Doojoon’s eyes snap open and he grins up at Jonghyun. “Why?” he asks, way too ing excited for Jonghyun’s tastes. “What happened?”

          “None of your ing business,” he shoots irritably.

          On cue, they both look at Joon who laughs for a few seconds longer before managing to say, “Kim Kibum has it from when they had in school.”

          Yoseob bursts into such violent laughter, that it quickly turns into silent, dry heaves, eyes shut closed and head down on the table. Doojoon looks like he is trying very hard not to laugh for Yoseob’s sake because if he loses control, then he’s going to drop Yoseob because Doojoon is the only thing keeping Yoseob from collapsing on the floor in helpless laughter.

          “Inappropriate,” Yonghwa cuts in, also looking like he’s trying not to laugh, from Joon’s left.

          Jonghyun flips him off and huffs. “Thanks, hyung,” he says at large because he has to be the world’s most unfortunate dongsaeng. “This really helps my case of getting another dress code and having to go to detention on a Saturday.”

          “Just go over there and ask for it back,” Yoseob says, raising his head from the table, even though his expression is still scrunched up in the remnants of laughter. He jerks his chin towards the table on the other side of the front of the cafeteria where the ’91 line sits. Jonghyun turns just in time to see Dongwoon and Kikwang walk in together after having been dropped off. Kikwang doesn’t come to this table right away—talking to the first years with Dongwoon for a few moments.

          “And if they beat you up,” Doojoon says, yawning and resting his chin on Yoseob’s shoulder again, “then it serves you right.”

          “Oh,” Jonghyun says wryly. “You guys aren’t going to—you know—defend me or anything? Just those two first year giants up my face?”

          “Well, it’s already ed up to begin with,” Yonghwa says, and Jonghyun kicks the back of his chair.

          “ you,” Jonghyun retorts indignantly. He sighs and looks gloomily over to where Mir is showing Kibum something from a notebook and they have their heads thrown back, laughing. Then he turns back and says, somewhat desperate, “Can at least one of you come with me? Please? I really don’t want to die.”

          Joon starts to stand up before Jonghyun pushes him back down. “No—not you,” he says. “You’re useless. Yoseob-hyung,” he glances, “please? I’ll buy you whatever you want to eat for a month—I swear.”

          Yoseob blinks at him and then blinks at Doojoon. “Doojoon-hyung already does that for me all the time,” he says indifferently. Jonghyun thinks Doojoon looks way to smug about this wasting of money to fatten up Yang Yoseob.

          “Fine,” he spits. He glances back at the table. “I guess Kikwangie can protect me,” he sighs. “Hopefully.”

          He glares one more time at his hyungs and then treads apprehensive steps towards the ’91 line table, stopping just beside where Kikwang stands behind Dongwoon’s seated form. He claps Kikwang on the shoulder and the other second year blinks at him. “Oh,” he says, surprised. “Hi, Jonghyun-ah.”

          “Hey,” Jonghyun responds coolly. Kibum is already staring at him expectantly with raised eyebrows. He clears his throat a bit and tries not to notice how Jinwoon’s eye-smile has suddenly turned sort of threatening and Mir looks like a puppy whose tail has just been stepped on. Jaejin mildly appears to want to put the neck of his guitar through Jonghyun’s chest. “Um,” he goes on, “Kibummie, do you—um—have my tie by any chance?”

          Kibum grins. “Your tie?”

          “Yeah. I—um—think I might have left it with you that one—um—time.” He avoids all eyes except for Kibum’s because Kibum just looks politely amused whereas he can feel death glares radiating from the others. Kikwang is just looking at him blankly.

          “Oh, really?” Kibum continues, an odd little smile tugging at his lips. “Which time, hyung?”

          There’s a certain light dancing in the younger boy’s eyes and it suddenly makes Jonghyun forget all about the imminent danger surrounding him. “ing hell, Kibummie,” he whines loud and clear. “The time that I ed you in the Language hall bathroom, so just give me back my tie because I don’t want to get detention.”

          A resounding silence follows this.

          .

          Jonghyun’s eyes stretch so wide that he feels they might start molding into his hairline. With the exception of Kibum, the ’91 line is staring at Jonghyun as disbelievingly as Jonghyun himself feels about what just came out of his mouth because that could not have just happened—he refuses to believe he just said what he did not say because he could not have said that.

          It’s Kikwang who breaks the eternal silence. “Um,” he says in a small voice, “Bye, Dongwoonie,” and performs the ultimate betrayal on Jonghyun.

          Kikwang leaves.

          Actually—no—saying that he left would imply a composed, walking action. Kikwang was neither composed nor did he walk. Kikwang left in a flurry of giant steps—as big as his legs would let him—and did not even once look back to consider the fact that his classmate’s life is in danger.

          Jonghyun finishes gaping after Kikwang and turns back to stare determinedly only at Kibum and not at the faces of his future murderers. He turns to look back, but the only visible part of Kibum is the arch of his back as the younger boy is bending down, head buried in his backpack. He comes up seconds later with something in his hand. “Here,” he says, laughingly, holding it out toward Jonghyun. “I washed it for you so you don’t have to worry about smelling like .”

          Jonghyun takes the tie from Kibum’s hand dazedly. “Thanks,” he says, matching Kikwang’s previous small voice. “I’ll—um—talk to you later, I guess.”

          “Sounds good,” Kibum smiles coolly again. “Get me from my 8^th period?”

          “Yeah,” Jonghyun says, still a little bit dazed because that’s what tends to happen to a person after they just have a near-death experience. “Yeah—okay.”

          He copies Kikwang’s big, flurry, as-far-as-his-short-legs-will-take-him thing and leaves as fast as he can before the rest of the ’91 line decides to change their mind and kill him after all.

          There is awkward, and then there is awkward and right now, Lee Kikwang is suffering through the latter choice. He knows that tact is a rare thing amongst high school boys, but he would have thought that Doojoon, as captain, has at least the absolute minimal amount of tact to get all of them through this rough patch, but apparently he thought wrong.

          Doojoon apparently doesn’t possess an ounce of tact because only someone completely tactless would walk into a locker room filled with plenty of the second kind of awkward and tension (because that’s what tends to happen lately when Jang Hyunseung and Yong Junhyung are put within a three meter radius of each other) and announce that the soccer team is going to go on an overnight excursion to attend workshops with two other schools—one of which being Hyunseung’s ex-school.

          Nothing bad happens outright.

          Hyunseung seems genuinely surprised and happy and starts chatting it up with Doojoon about details. Junhyung simply continues to dry himself from the shower, sorting out his practice clothes and the clothes he’s about to put on. Yoseob is standing worriedly beside Junhyung, hands hovering in the air uncertainly.

          And that left the maknae line, Dongwoon and himself, standing in a separate stretch of lockers across where their hyungs are—and generally feeling like the kids in a family where the parents are fighting.

          “Do you think they’ll ever make up?” Dongwoon says in the lowest voice he can manage without making it completely soundless. He’s bent over his duffel bag, searching for a shirt.

          Kikwang looks at Dongwoon, frowning. “Of course,” he says, pushing his lips forward thoughtfully. “They have to.” They have to because Kikwang knows how much Hyunseung loves Junhyung even though Junhyung refuses to believe it. He knows because there’s never a time lately that Hyunseung isn’t telling Kikwang about how it’s all his fault and he isn’t good enough for Junhyung anyway so there’s no point in being in love with Junhyung anymore.

          Dongwoon’s eyebrows furrow. “You okay?”

          “What?” Kikwang blinks.

          And then he remembers.

          “Oh,” he says. “Oh—yeah,” he smiles, and makes sure that it looks pained and a little forced, uncomfortable. He has to appear uncomfortable and hurt because that’s usually what one looks like when their unrequited love loves someone else. He has to appear that way whenever Hyunseung and Junhyung come up even though Hyunseung isn’t the one Kikwang is in love with.

          Not anymore.

          Not anymore because the good thing about being young is that while falling in love is easy, falling out of love isn’t as painful either. It’s something that just naturally happens when your love isn’t being reciprocated and Kikwang doesn’t know if he can even call it love if he’s only ever been treated as Hyunseung’s dongsaeng. He never forced himself to stop loving Hyunseung—it just happened.

          It just happened but it wasn’t an instantaneous explosion that went off and alerted Kikwang that this was the exact moment that he was done loving Hyunseung. It was more a series of realizations. He realized that it was no longer Hyunseung who makes his heart beat faster. He realized it was no longer Hyunseung who makes his cheeks warm. It was no longer Hyunseung who Kikwang feels his eyes drawn to all the time.

          “If it gets really bad,” Dongwoon says quietly, “just call me tonight, ‘kay, hyung?” He gives Kikwang a small smile and Kikwang’s heart beats faster, his cheeks warm, and he doesn’t ever want to take his eyes away from the younger boy’s face. He knows it makes him a terrible, terrible person to pretend that he’s in pain from loving someone he doesn’t anymore just to keep Dongwoon like this, but he doesn’t know any other way.

          Telling Dongwoon is out of the question because the younger boy just sees him as a hyung—as a friend—and Kikwang doesn’t want to lose that by scaring him away. Dongwoon has always been there to comfort Kikwang when the older boy loves someone who doesn’t love him back, but what’s going to happen when that someone is Dongwoon?

          “’Course,” Kikwang says, smiling back. He’s about to ask Dongwoon if he can sleep over again, except first he needs to think of a good excuse because he slept over at Dongwoon’s for two days in a row last week so he’s currently short on excuses and both their mothers will start wondering why Kikwang never sleeps in his own house these days.

          He’s about to ask when the voices coming from the other section of the locker room suddenly increases in volume and then there is a crash and the sound of a door slamming. Kikwang and Dongwoon exchange wide-eyed looks and they simultaneously side-step and peek towards their hyungs.

          Doojoon and Yoseob are on opposing sides of the bench that stretches down the middle of the locker aisle, and Hyunseung is nowhere to be seen. Junhyung is standing next to Yoseob and his expression is absolutely terrifying.

          “He’s being such an idiot,” Yoseob says faintly, staring after the swinging door of the locker rooms.

          Something inside Kikwang flares because even though he isn’t in love with Hyunseung anymore, he still loves him. Hyunseung is to Kikwang what Junhyung is to Yoseob, what Joon is to Jonghyun. Hyunseung is Kikwang’s closest hyung. “He’s not being an idiot,” Kikwang says heatedly. “You don’t know how he feels, so don’t say anything.”

          “Yah—Kikwang-ah,” Doojoon says, coming forward, hand outstretched warningly.

          “He won’t even listen to what we have to say,” Yoseob goes on, “and it’s going to ruin our chances of getting to championships. It’s one thing if he doesn’t want to be with Junhyung anymore, but it’s something else completely if he’s going to be a tard about it—“

          “Shut the hell up, Yoseob-ah,” Junhyung suddenly snaps, and before Kikwang can blink, Junhyung’s pinned to the locker rooms with Doojoon’s hands gripping his shoulders. Junhyung doesn’t look alarmed or frightened—his jaw just tightens and his nostrils flare.

          “Don’t take this out on people who’re on your side,” Doojoon says in a low voice. “Don’t take this out on any of your dongsaengs, period. You should be grateful Yoseob’s even taking your side considering that the rest of the world thinks it’s your fault—“

          Junhyung shoves the captain away. “What the hell can I do about it if he doesn’t want to talk to me? You think I don’t want to be with him? It’s not a good feeling, you know, to have someone hate you.” He finishes pulling his shirt over his head and haphazardly stuffs his clothes into his bag and slings it over his shoulder, adjusting his hat. “He takes like three-point-five second showers now because he doesn’t even want to be in the locker rooms when I’m here. Tie him up or something so I can talk to him and then we can work from there.”

          Kikwang opens his mouth because he wants to tell Junhyung that if the older boy wants to talk to Hyunseung, he shouldn’t try to talk to him. Hyunseung doesn’t want to talk—Hyunseung just needs Junhyung to show him that he still wants him. He’s about to tell Junhyung this, but the older boy has already jerked his head in goodbye to Doojoon and walks out the door.

          Kikwang closes his mouth and sighs.

          Yoseob echoes the younger boy’s sigh and walks over to kick Dongwoon lightly in the hip. “C’mon, first year,” the goalie says. “Hurry up and stop being so you can go home. Jinwoon says Hyori-noona’s giving loads this week and I don’t want you to be a zombie on coffee again like last week.”

          Kikwang turns and looks up at Dongwoon. “You have a lot of bio homework?”

          “Not,” Dongwoon says hesitantly, “not a lot.”

          “Don’t listen to him—he’s got loads,” Yoseob says to Kikwang. “You know how Hyori-noona likes to amp it up at the beginning of the school year.”

          Doojoon chooses this moment to slide behind Yoseob and wrap his arms around the smaller boy’s waist and lift him off his feet, swinging him around a little bit before letting him back down. Yoseob’s expression does not look impressed. He turns around in Doojoon’s arms, and snorts. “Yeah—no,” he says. “The only thing you’re doing tonight is homework.”

          The older boy looks indignant. “It wasn’t my fault—“

          “I know you were trying to be a knight in shining armor and all,” Yoseob continues in that same, unimpressed tone, “but when someone’s upset, they usually don’t know what they’re saying and pushing them into lockers doesn’t really help the case. Thus—you’re doing homework and if you want to sleep over, you’re sleeping on the floor.” He worms out of Doojoon’s arms, pats the older boy’s hip, picks up his gym bag and walks out of the locker rooms.

          Doojoon blinks for a few seconds and then looks over to Kikwang who gives him a sympathetic look. “I guess you’re not getting any tonight, Captain,” he says and then hides behind Dongwoon when Doojoon starts to throw towels at him.