It’s ever high school student’s fantasy to be in a tutoring session with a hot, young teacher—it’s the kind of classic situation that only happens once in a blue moon, or in a novel, without going wrong and ending in arrestments and life-ruining trauma. Joon isn’t really fond of arrestments and life-ruining trauma, so when he walked in to his first tutoring session with Yang Seungho, he was determined not to let Seungho get arrested and have Joon’s life ruined with trauma. He was determined to have this be simple and clean and make Seungho his hyung.

          And his plan would have worked perfectly.

          Except Yang Seungho is a lot hotter than Joon remembers—he’s a lot hotter than Joon remembers even if Joon sees him in the halls and in class all the time, it’s just not the same as one-on-one, because Seungho’s hotness isn’t just the fact because of his full lips and deep round eyes and dark eye circles and eye-vanishing smile and the laugh that makes Joon want to kick a puppy because that’s how adorable Yang Seungho’s laugh is.

          It’s a lot more than that and Joon thinks that he is so ed.

          Especially because during their tutoring sessions, Seungho often sits on Joon’s desk because the student teacher says that in his teaching course, they said that eye-contact and physical closeness was an important communication factor but Joon thinks that the professor in Seungho’s teaching course probably just wanted to give poor adolescent boys painful, unsatisfied s that they have to hide by placing their calculators over their laps.

          “Why do you have your calculator out?” Seungho asks, peering down from where he’s perched on the edge of Joon’s desk. “Are you trying to do math homework while I’m explaining this to you?”

           Joon swallows, his mouth opening and closing a few times soundlessly. “I—no—no—no of course not—just—um—no—listening—yeah—math—um—calculator—it—um—feels nice,” Joon explains. “It—it—it—very—comforting. Helps me think.”

          Seungho stares.

          Joon thinks that if Seungho wasn’t a student teacher and obligated to learn how to be encouraging and supportive, the older man probably would have told Joon he was a freak somewhere during their third session. “Just,” Joon says, flapping his hand, “just—go on. I’m listening.”

          Seungho is still staring. “Um,” he says unsurely. “Changsun-ah, do you want to take a ten-minute break? Go get something to eat and then come back?”

          “No,” Joon says instantly. “No—no—it’s—yeah—no—just—not hungry—no.”

          He thinks that if Seungho stares any harder, the student teacher’s eyes will fall out.

          “I left my wallet in my locker anyway,” Joon says absently.

          Seungho tips his head to one side. “I have food with me. Do you want some?” He slides off of Joon’s desk.

          “Um—“ Joon starts, but Seungho has already gone behind Jung-seonsangnim’s desk to get his bag. The student teacher emerges with what appears to be a black laptop case. He places it on Joon’s desk and s the main pocket, and then lowers it so the opening faces Joon.

          “Just take whichever you want,” he says.

          Joon has to sit up a little to look inside. He looks inside. “Um,” he begins, not sure how to phrase this or if he should say it at all. “That’s—um—well—um—that’s a lot of food.”

          Inside of Yang Seungho’s bag, Joon sees boxes of Pocky, boxes of Pepero, bags of shrimp crackers, bags of rice crackers, bags of chips, wrapped hamburgers, boxes of French fries, boxed lunches, plastic-covered bowls of kimchi, bottled tea, bottled soda, bottled water, bottled juice, and if his eyes aren’t screwing around with him, there is also no-water-needed rice packets. There is no room whatsoever for Seungho’s cell phone in there, let alone a laptop.

          “Is it?” Seungho says, blinking and Joon wishes he wouldn’t be so close and blink like that because Joon doesn’t want Seungho to get arrested. “I had more this morning.”

          It comes out before Joon can stop himself.

          “Oh my God—you eat so ing much,” he blurts with wide eyes.

          Seungho stares.

          Joon stares back—and thinks that maybe this is the point where he gets suspended and has his life ruined by trauma.

          He’s ready to apologize profusely to Yang-seonsangnim when he feels a small thump on his head and looks up to dark eye circles curved into crescents and Seungho has just thrown an oversized Pepero stick at Joon’s head. “Shut up,” he says, laughing a bit, full lips parted to show a flash of white teeth. He sounds nothing like a teacher right now and Joon has to restrain himself from throwing his arms around him and calling him hyung.

          Joon takes the Pepero stick and bites off the tip, unable to stop grinning. “You do—you have like an entire candy and convenience store in your bag.”

          “No,” Seungho says with playful indignation. “I finished the convenience store during lunch.” He’s still half-smiling, half-laughing and Joon never wants that to stop because at best, during class and the tutoring sessions, Seungho looks like there is a constant torrential downpour happening around him. And that’s at best—normally, it’s a mild hurricane.

          Joon wants to keep going—despite what Jonghyun thinks about his attractiveness being wasted on him, Joon does know how to flirt. He’s quite good at it too without having to try very hard thanks to what Hyunseung calls his ridiculous attractiveness that Jonghyun thinks is useless on him. He wants to keep on going, but Seungho ends it with a small smile, tapping the crown of Joon’s head teasingly with the spine of the novel in his hand—the one they are supposed to be analyzing for themes of human nature. “Okay,” he says, “back to work.”

          “Seonsangnim,” Joon says with a straight-face. “I’m still hungry.”

          Seungho looks unimpressed. “Then I guess you’ll just have to starve until you give me three more events where human nature is the main focus.”

          “Student abuse,” Joon says glumly and Seungho laughs again.

          “Your face right about now,” Yoseob says, “could kill an entire hospital ward of newborns, you know that?”

          Junhyung doesn’t say anything and continues to load their bags into the back of the school’s coach bus. Doojoon and Dongwoon are supposed to be helping him, but as far as he knows, Doojoon is still caught up trying to tell the bus driver how to work the new GPS system the school has installed in all of their buses, and Dongwoon is probably latched onto Kikwang somewhere—and knowing Kikwang, he’s probably stalling somewhere so he doesn’t get pulled into helping the hyungs load the buses.

          He finishes fitting in the bag and looks down at the ground where there are three more and thinks that maybe he really should just go kill an entire hospital ward of newborn babies. “Why aren’t you helping?” he says suddenly, turning to Yoseob.

          Yoseob looks unimpressed. “Why would you ask me that?” he responds and Junhyung refrains from saying anything because if Doojoon catches Yoseob loading bags, then Junhyung probably wouldn’t live to receive his diploma.

          Junhyung huffs, “Fine. I’ll just ruin my back prematurely.” He glares down. “Whose bags are these anyway? They’re humongous.” He glances to Yoseob for an explanation but the goalie is suddenly staring at a piece of grass near the school’s driveway. He twists his neck so he can gauge Yoseob’s expression—or determined lack of. The smaller boy has his lips in and looks focused on keeping a blank face, but the emotions are leaking out and Junhyung straightens up knowingly.

          “Oh,” he says. “They’re Hyunseung’s bags?”

          Yoseob is still staring at the piece of grass.

          “It doesn’t matter, Yoseob-ah,” Junhyung says, forcing his voice to remain casual and convincing. “I’m just loading them onto the bus.” He’s just loading them onto the bus. Just loading—but as he swings them one-by-one into the cavernous trunk on the lower sides of the bus, he can’t stop himself from focusing on the fact that he smells Hyunseung as each one whips past him and lands with a thunk on the metal floor of the trunk. He can’t stop himself from wondering about which clothes Hyunseung packed, or if he’s bought some new ones, or which pair of cleats he’s brought with him and if—

          “Junhyung-ah,” Doojoon calls, as he walks towards them from the front of the bus. Junhyung whirls around and Yoseob turns, too. When Doojoon is close enough, he catches Yoseob in one arm, pulling the goalie close into his side. “Coach-hyung says if you’re finished, we have to meet him up at the bus dock so he can give us our room assignments.”

          “We’re not getting on it here?” Junhyung asks, motioning vaguely to where they are standing at the gates.

          “No—I think there’s some other stuff Coach-hyung has to load so it’s going to meet us at the docks and we’ll get on there,” Doojoon checks his cell phone. “Yeah, we still have a ton of time anyway. We don’t have to be on the road until nine and that’s only if some of us want breakfast on the way or something.”

          “I want samgyupsal,” Yoseob says, looking up at Doojoon significantly.

          “Tell the bus driver,” Doojoon says back. “And tell Coach-hyung, because he’s paying for everything on this trip. I spent all my money on the six-layered cake you made me buy for you on Friday.”

          “Yeah—and the cake ,” Yoseob says.

          “Not my problem,” Doojoon retorts. “My problem is the fact that one slice of that cake cost fifty dollars because it’s French and imported and has six layers.” He snorts, but all Junhyung can see is how the captain’s other arm is around Yoseob now. They start to walk back towards the bus docks, with Doojoon balancing Yoseob on his own feet, and the two are laughing and Doojoon is making fun of Yoseob’s weight and size and Yoseob is telling him to shut up—

          And Junhyung sees green.

          He sees green, because just months ago, that was him and Hyunseung, and it could’ve been him and Hyunseung if Junhyung hadn’t ed things up.

          But he thinks that even if he didn’t things up, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference either way because he isn’t Kwon Jiyoung and he’s never going to live up to Kwon Jiyoung. He’d be lying, though, if he says that he wasn’t mad at Hyunseung for being angry over the fact that Junhyung actually wants to spend time with his friends. He’d be lying if he says he wasn’t mad over that, but he’d also be lying if he says that he’s still mad over it.

          These days, he’s not really mad anymore.

          He just wants Hyunseung back.

          He wants Hyunseung back, but if Hyunseung needs better, then there’s not much he can do about it. He’ll never be on the same level as Kwon Jiyoung, and if that’s what Hyunseung wants to be with, then all Junhyung can do is hope that the other boy at least starts talking to him again so they can be friends again.

          Junhyung hopes they can at least be friends again because more than wanting Hyunseung back—

          He really just misses him.

          Dongwoon thinks that maybe Life is trying to make up for everything bad that it’s ever done to him, but in doing so, went a little bit overboard. He thinks about this after their coach reads off the room assignments because Dongwoon is usually paired with Doojoon, but this time, Dongwoon is paired with Kikwang and he doesn’t see how that works because they are not even going by age. He thinks that maybe their coach is a lot more perceptive than any human being as a right to be because Junhyung and Hyunseung are in the same room, too.

          But then maybe their coach’s perceptiveness ends there because he put Doojoon and Yoseob in the same room and their room is right between Junhyung and Hyunseung’s, and Dongwoon and Kikwang’s and unless the walls are soundproof, the four of them won’t be getting any sleep for the next two nights.

          There will also probably be a lot of mental damage and Dongwoon supposes that he won’t be able to look the captain or the co-captain in the face for a while.

          “Yah, Son Dongwoon,” Kikwang grins brightly, “We’re roommates.”

          Dongwoon wants to be excited with him, except he doesn’t feel any excitement coming from the thoughts of having to hope that Kikwang doesn’t walk around shirtless in their room because if that happens, Dongwoon will be spending a lot of time locked by himself in the bathroom.

          “Yeah, so you’d better not snore, hyung,” he says, pushing the smaller boy away as their hyungs start to climb onto the bus.

          Kikwang pushes him back, laughing. “I don’t snore,” he says, and tugs at Dongwoon’s arm as they go up the stairs of the bus

          Dongwoon wants to tell him that he knows Kikwang doesn’t snore—he knows this because he’s stayed up plenty of times during their many sleepovers, unable to sleep because his heart is pounding too loudly and the blood is whizzing through his ears as a result of Kikwang far too close to him as they lie in the same bed.

          They have an entire coach bus to themselves because the soccer team is the pride and joy of the school, right after the swim team—and Dongwoon thinks that’s probably only because Choi Minho joined and Choi Minho is inhuman at every sport known to man. Doojoon almost had a hernia trying to get him to join the soccer team when he first came to the school.

          Doojoon and Yoseob are sitting at the very back of the bus where the longest row of adjacent seats is. Junhyung is a few seats in front of them on the left side of the bus, and Hyunseung is all the way in the front on the right side of the bus. Kikwang plops down somewhere in the middle, on the right side, and scoots over all the way to the window to make room for Dongwoon.

          As Dongwoon slides into his seat, he sees Kikwang staring at the back of Hyunseung’s head, eyes sad. The little man in Dongwoon’s chest sneezes and coughs and he thinks that the little man is starting to get sick again. The little man is beating inside the walls of Dongwoon’s chest, asking him for medicine—for any kind of relief—but Dongwoon has to ignore him because there isn’t anything he can do.

          “I hope they make up soon,” Kikwang says suddenly in a quiet voice. The bus starts to move. “They’re in the same room, so maybe something good can happen.” He looks up at Dongwoon and gives a tiny smile. “Don’t you think it hurts when our hyungs hurt?”

          “Yeah,” Dongwoon says. Yeah—it hurts a lot. It hurts and stings and it’s unbearably painful when his hyungs are hurting, and as Kikwang stares, clearly upset, towards the direction of Hyunseung, Dongwoon wishes he could do something to make his hyung hurt a little bit less because it was so ridiculously unfair that Kikwang is unselfish to the point of wanting Hyunseung to make up with Junhyung even though he’s in love with Hyunseung himself.

          They get as far as toll before the sound of Doojoon and Yoseob’s voices fall silent and Kikwang turns in his seat to see what happened. The older boy sits back down and nudges Dongwoon with his elbow, laughing under his breath. “They fell asleep on each other,” he says fondly.

          “It’s Saturday morning,” Dongwoon shrugs. “No one wants to be up this early.”

          Kikwang laughs. “Dongwoon-ah, it’s not even early—it’s almost noon.”

          “I don’t want to be up this early,” Dongwoon clarifies and leans his head all the way down on Kikwang’s shoulder, and closes his eyes, pretending to fall asleep.

          Kikwang immediately tries to shove him off, breathless with laughter. “Yah—yah, Son Dongwoon, you’re heavy—you’re head is two times the size of mine so get off. My shoulder’s going to sprain if you sleep on it,” Dongwoon forces his head to stay on Kikwang’s shoulder, and the older boy continues to push, his voice getting more and more disjointed as his laughter escalates, “it only works with Doojoon-hyung and Yoseob-hyung because they’re normal sized humans.”

          “I am normal sized,” Dongwoon laughs, finally taking his head away. “You’re just undersized.”

          “Dongwoon-ah,” Kikwang teases in a gasp, “To your hyung.”

          “I don’t think it counts if your dongsaeng is taller than you,” Dongwoon says, mockingly thoughtful and this time Kikwang does gasp and starts hitting Dongwoon with his rolled-up sweatshirt, eyes absolutely nonexistent and smile showing all of his teeth because he’s laughing so hard.

          Dongwoon knows that some things just aren’t meant to be, but he wonders how something that feels so right can be so impossible—how something that feels so right to him doesn’t make Kikwang feel anything at all.

          The two happy couples—because no matter what Dongwoon and Kikwang both separately insist when the other isn’t around, Junhyung knows that the team’s maknaes might as well be put in with Doojoon and Yoseob—are sleeping on each other’s shoulders by the time they pull into a rest stop for lunch. Coach tells Junhyung and Hyunseung—who are both still awake and on their iPods—to go on ahead and order what they want to eat, use the restrooms, stretch, check out whatever’s there while he wakes up the other four.

          Junhyung is halfway out of his seat when he sees Hyunseung get up all the way in the front of the bus. He waits until the other boy is off the vehicle before he himself gets up and walks down the long aisle to the front. He passes the two youngest on the way, Kikwang’s face buried in the corner of Dongwoon’s shoulder, the smaller boy’s arm around the maknae’s waist. Junhyung resists the urge to smile. He wants to simply spill everything to Dongwoon, but that would ruin it—they have to figure it out for themselves.

          He jumps off the last of the steps that lead off the bus, the midday autumn sun a little too bright in his eyes after the shaded bus. He stretches, arching his back and lifting his arms over his head. He bends his knees backward and yawns, wondering how much many hours they’ve been on the road. He remembers their coach telling them that with minimal traffic, they’ll get to the host school by four in the afternoon if they don’t take too long for lunch.

          “Ah,” Yoseob says at the back of his throat, appearing beside Junhyung from the bus. “I think my neck slept the wrong way.” He tugs at his head, listening for the cue of cracks.

          Junhyung snorts with a smile as the smaller boy finishes stretching and rests his elbow on Junhyung’s shoulder. “Yeah—I’d imagine that’s what happens when you use your boyfriend for a pillow.”

Yoseob nods wisely. “You imagine right.” Then he grins and slaps Junhyung’s back briskly. “C’mon, I’m starving.” He turns back to the direction of the bus and calls, “Doojoon-hyung! Coach says you can pay for me, so I’m getting three servings, okay?” Yoseob sticks out his tongue at Junhyung and widens his eyes playfully before racing into the restaurant just as Doojoon comes out, hair sticking up in different directions.

The captain is still petting down his treasured sideburns, hanging out of the bus door and looking fairly irate. “Yah!” he shouts, “Yah.”

          Junhyung grins. “He can’t hear you anymore, captain,” he says.

          “Shut the up,” Doojoon shoots, continuing to press down his sideburns. “Did I tell you about the six-layered French cake he made me buy last week?”

          “I was there, Doojoon-ah. I heard just fine.” Junhyung tries to look sympathetic, but his stomach is starting to hurt containing the impending laughter and it doesn’t help that he’s hungry on top of that.

          Suddenly, Doojoon falls out of the bus, somehow miraculously landing on his feet and not his face. “Yah,” he screams, spinning around, “Seriously.”

          Dongwoon comes out easily, taking the steps at a slow pace. “Hyung,” he says, “I’m hungry and you were blocking the way.” He jumps off the bus with Kikwang closely after. The smaller boy looks like he still hasn’t quite woken up yet, half-leaning into Dongwoon, his normally large eyes only half visible. “Hyung,” Dongwoon says, this time directed at Kikwang. “Wake up—don’t you want to eat?”

          “Not hungry,” Kikwang mumbles. “Feel sick.”

          “Oh super,” Doojoon says, exchanging meaningful glances with Junhyung.

          Car sickness, bus sickness, boat sickness, and plane sickness are all Kikwang’s best friends. They love to visit him whenever the chance arises, and usually don’t like to leave until vomit gets involved somewhere in the situation. Car sickness is the second worst for Kikwang because it’s the smallest space and surprisingly, plane sickness is the least terrible because there’s the least feeling of moving. Boat sickness is something Junhyung has only seen Kikwang go through once and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that it’s something that makes you want to commit suicide. Bus sickness is a nice middle gray, but not by much.

          “Want me to get coach-hyung?” Junhyung asks, “So he can give you some Tylenol or something?”

          Kikwang shakes his head, eyes still closed. “No—I just want to go back to sleep.”

          Junhyung sees Doojoon about to agree when Dongwoon cuts in, “Hyung, you have to eat something first. You’ll feel sicker if you don’t eat—I swear you’ll feel better if you have something in your stomach.”

          “Dongwoonie, I don’t want to,” Kikwang says, a slight whine in his voice.

          “If he wants to sleep, Dongwoon-ah,” Doojoon begins uncertainly.

          Dongwoon has started rubbing Kikwang’s back and the second year has opened his eyes, looking terribly unhappy up at the maknae. “Get him to eat something first, hyung,” Dongwoon looks at Doojoon. “Don’t let him just eat soup—like, have him eat something solid, too. Rice and kimchi at least.” He pushes Kikwang to Junhyung and Doojoon.

          “Wait, where’re you going?” Doojoon calls as Dongwoon jogs back to the bus. Kikwang has buried his face in Junhyung’s chest and Junhyung has to shake him to keep him from going back to sleep again.

          But Dongwoon doesn’t reply and is already back on the bus.

          Junhyung shrugs and rubs Kikwang’s arm. “C’mon, kid,” he says. “Let’s go eat.”

          “I’m going to throw something at you, hyung,” Kikwang mumbles, eyes still closed. “But my head hurts too much. Where’s Dongwoonie?”

          “Went back to the bus,” Doojoon says as they walk to the restaurant, guiding Kikwang alone.

          “Darn,” Kikwang says. “I wanted to throw up on his shoes.”

          Dongwoon returns by the time Junhyung and Doojoon get Kikwang seated and the samgyupsal arrives. He tells their coach that he had the brand of sickness medicine Kikwang usually takes before road trips in his backpack and that Kikwang didn’t remember to take it before they left. Kikwang had already looked visibly brighter after getting food in his stomach—exactly like Dongwoon said—and looks even brighter after putting in two pills of the sickness medicine.

          Coach says that he thinks Dongwoon is the most responsible out of all of them despite being the maknae.

          Junhyung doesn’t say that he thinks Dongwoon is probably the most in love out of all of them despite being the maknae.

          But then he sees Doojoon swipe his credit card—because that’s how rich and swanky kids receive allowance—and practically watches the tears roll down the captain’s eyes while doing it, and thinks that maybe the captain and maknae are equally ridiculously in love.

          Still, he feels sorrier for Doojoon because Yoseob has begun to talk about ice cream at the next rest stop they get to.

          They finish eating and coach-hyung pays for everything that Doojoon refuses to cover because if Yoseob makes him cover any more than he’s going to stand under the bus tires when the vehicle moves. Yoseob snorts, slips his hand into Doojoon’s, and they walk back to the bus together because Junhyung knows that in twenty kilometers—according to the road sign—Yoseob is going to be a chocolate ice cream cone.

          Everyone else is well on their way back to the parking lot when Kikwang pulls Junhyung to the side near the restaurant exit.

          The second year looks nervous.

          Junhyung folds his arms.

          “You’re rooming with Hyunseung-hyung,” Kikwang starts slowly.

          Junhyung sighs. “Look—I’m going to try my best to talk to him, but if he doesn’t—“

          “You shouldn’t.”

          Junhyung blinks. “What?”

          Kikwang bites his lip, face concentrated. “Okay—um—so, I don’t think you should talk to him.”

          The third year feels like he went from episode three to episode fifty-six of whatever drama this is. “What?”

          “Like,” Kikwang pauses thoughtfully, “okay, I know what you guys fought about, right? But I don’t know why he’s not talking to you. He doesn’t want to tell me, so I can’t help you with that. But if you keep trying to talk to him, it doesn’t make a difference. Hyunseung-hyung knows you’re always going to tell him that you’re there for him. But I think you shouldn’t tell him that anymore. Don’t talk to him—he just wants to be able to see that you’re there.”

          Junhyung thinks that maybe now he’s caught up to episode twenty-four. “Wait—so I just—not talk to him too? I just ignore him?”

          Kikwang smiles a little bit right then. “Just show him you care. You know him better than all of us, so you’ll get what I mean.” He laughs. “You’re a bright light bulb on the tree, hyung.”

          The third year snorts, matching the smile. “I’m glad you think so.”

          The host school isn’t Hyunseung’s dream school. Junhyung is thankful that it’s not because he doesn’t think that he or Hyunseung could stand it if it was. The rest of the ride—not including the stop for ice cream and maxing out Doojoon’s patience and monthly allowance—was spent in mostly silence except for their coach’s voice as he tells Doojoon the itinerary for the next few days. And since Doojoon had to sit in the front to listen, Yoseob ended up with no human-pillow. He probably would have slept on Junhyung were it not for the fact that they are in a Delicate Situation right now, so the co-captain just ended up sleeping on Dongwoon’s shoulder.

          Hyunseung sat with Kikwang and they laughed and talked and smiled, and Hyunseung didn’t look back once.

          Junhyung thinks that maybe the others should just leave it alone because it’s not like they can force Hyunseung to love Junhyung. They can try to mend the friendship, but if Hyunseung just doesn’t love him, then there’s not much that can be done about that.

          But he has the next two nights alone with Hyunseung, so he might as well give Kikwang’s advice a try—it’s not like he can sink any lower than he’s already gone, and it’s better to give riskier things a go while he’s still low so the fall down isn’t that far. Although Junhyung also doubts that at the point he’s at, if there’s anywhere left to fall, because it’s pretty rock bottom for him these days.

          “Yah,” he says, catching Dongwoon by the collar as the maknae tries to sidle past him. “You’re not getting out of helping me with the bags this time.”

          Dongwoon grins sheepishly. “I wasn’t trying to.”

          “Right,” Junhyung says, and pushes the taller boy towards the underside of the bus. “So go unlock the trunks and start unloading.” He pulls the maknae to the trunks and pushes him down onto his knees.

          The first year starts to unlock the latches—he’s leaning forward slightly, clearly trying to see something that’s being blocked by Junhyung. “You’d better not be trying to make eye-contact with Kikwangie,” Junhyung says. “He’s not saving you again.”

          “Hyung, Kikwang-hyung’s muscles are bigger than mine—why can’t you just use him?” Dongwoon says, lifting up the doors with far too much ease for someone who has just started being dragged to condition after school.

          “Because Kikwangie only has muscles so he can do the mating dance of the high school boy—something that you should know the best about since you’re trying to do the responding dance even though you’re crap at it,” Junhyung retorts.

          Dongwoon looks crestfallen. “I’m crap at it?” he asks glumly.

          Junhyung stares.

          And Dongwoon seems to realize what he just really said. “I mean—no—I mean—I wasn’t dancing—er—trying to respond, just—you know,” he says rapidly, but the damage is done and Junhyung is doubled over laughing.

          “Hyung, it’s not funny,” the maknae pleads. “He likes Hyunseung-hyung so I’m not even trying—there is no mating dance.”

          Junhyung pounds his chest lightly, trying to stop the laughter. “No—no, there totally is Dongwoon-ah and you at it, which is probably why Kikwangie doesn’t have any idea.”

          “I don’t want him to have an idea,” Dongwoon says, still sounding pained that Junhyung is taking all of this as entertainment. He sticks half of his body into the trunk in an attempt to escape the mortification. “He likes Hyunseung-hyung, remember? And I’m just his dongsaeng—he doesn’t even see me like that.”

          Junhyung pats the first year’s back sympathetically. “Hoping doesn’t hurt.”

          “It does when you’ve been at it for as long as I have,” Dongwoon says, his voice falling quiet. He emerges from the trunk, the straps of two bags in his hands. Junhyung kneels beside him and helps him slide them onto the ground.

          “I know it’s hard,” Junhyung says with a half-smile. “But promise me you’ll keep at it for a little bit longer and I’ll promise you something good’s gonna happen.”

          “He doesn’t like me back, hyung,” Dongwoon says doubtfully. “I know he doesn’t.”

          Junhyung rolls his eyes and slaps Dongwoon’s arm briskly. “Just promise me?”

          “Fine,” Dongwoon says and before Junhyung can say or do anything further, the maknae shoots off towards the entrance of the school with a greater speed than the third year has ever seen him use during practice drills.

          “Yah,” Junhyung screams. “Yah, Son Dongwoon!”