Xiumin takes two steps to the right, avoiding the large pillar blocking his view from the lounge sitting near the bar stage.

“What are you looking at?” Yesung wants to know.

The smaller, and younger, boy shrugs. “I don’t even—I can’t really—hm.”

Out of curiosity, Yesung out rightly steps out from within the bar and peeks over the counter, his entire upper body leaning on the tabletop. “Oh, that.”

“That. Yes, that.” Xiumin confirms.

They both dodge the towel that is thrown in their faces when the subject of their gawking joins them in their company. “Stop staring, jerks.”

Xiumin laughs and Yesung does his best to keep a straight, barren face. “I like the outfit.”

“Lack of,” Xiumin corrects his brother matter of factly.

The older boy strains his lips when he tries to keep them pressed tightly together. “Yeah, that.”

“You know what?” Luna growls. “I don’t even care. Who cares for festivities, anyways? And dignity? Yeah, no. So I’m dressed up like a rice cake, running around the hotel doing errands for Sungmin because he finds it humorous for a short and almost unnoticeable Luna to be scurrying about for his early Mid-Autumn Festival promotions. Who. Gives.”

When Yesung laughs, he almost spits into her cloth-covered face.

“You don’t look so bad as a bun, really.” Xiumin tries to comfort. “It’s cute.”

Luna frowns deeper. “Shut up, Xiumin. Just because you actually look like one all around the clock doesn’t mean you should make yourself feel better by complimenting me.”

“That’s just mean.” Xiumin narrows his eyes.

She smiles innocently. “You know I love you.”

“So, what is Sungmin having you do, exactly?” Yesung asks.

The young chef assistant sighs. “I’ve been porting brochures and menus around for him all day today; showing him edits, relaying his messages. He absolutely refuses to leave the kitchen, for some odd reason—murmurs something about possibly running into Victoria and having to deal with her hopeless ways.”

“Understandable.” Yesung nods.

Luna rolls her eyes. “Oh, right! I was sent here to inform the two of you that the filming crew will be in the kitchen within the hour. Sungmin needs something good to go with his course he’s prepared for them.”

“I hear people like that enjoy tequila.” Xiumin comments.

Yesung throws him a judging look of disapproval. “What do you think Sungmin is giving them? Chips and dips or something?”

“Hey,” Xiumin raises an accusing finger, “nothing wrong with a bit of salsa and nice, deep marinated dish of aged casket.”

“That sounds so good right now.” Luna groans, rubbing her stomach with a tortured expression. “I haven’t had anything to eat since Sungmin woke me up at six this morning.”

Xiumin looks scandalized. “Six?!”



Luna nods, pouting. “You have no idea”

In an effort to stop the chattering, Yesung throws the towel back in Luna’s face and urges her on. “I’ll send Xiumin over to the kitchen with something nice. Tell Sungmin not to overdo the attitude—you never know what those reporters will write about you in the books.”

“They’re credible.” Luna argues. Then, she hesitates. “Well, at least I think they are.”

“Doesn’t matter, princess. Just tell him to look out for himself. You know how much of a prick your senior can be.”

The two young adults give each other a hidden smile before Luna nods and trots off back towards the kitchen. Yesung shakes his head with a grin.

“Cute.” Xiumin says.

Yesung blinks. “Luna? Yeah, she is.”

“No, you, hyung.” Xiumin laughs. “You and your adorable obliviousness.”

Xiumin avoids the whack that is aimed for the back of his head and scurries to search for some good, aged alcohol on the rack in the back. “Take the Agave.” Yesung shouts to him.

“That’s tequila!” Xiumin pouts, sticking his head out from behind the wall, glaring at his older brother stubbornly.

Shrugging, Yesung returns to wiping down glass flutes with a towel. “I liked your idea.”

“Hypocrite!” Xiumin scowls.

Yesung just smirks snobbishly. “I prefer ‘accepting of others insightful opinions’.”

“Tch.” Xiumin clicks his tongue, surfacing from the cellar. “I’m off!”

“Where are you going?” His brother questions. “They don’t need that for another while.”

Xiumin just keeps walking. “Restroom!”

“You’re slacking!” Yesung retorts. “I’m going to remember this and put it in your records!”

“Go ahead!” His younger brother replies nonchalantly. “If you’re really going to be that heartless, then so be it!”

“You—“

Yesung doesn’t even bother finishing his statement. He laughs and sighs, letting the easy tension roll off of his shoulders. It isn’t as though he knows Xiumin is purposely picking fights with him—it’s that time of the year, when things get worrisome and Yesung feels the pressure of the world sitting on his shoulders.

Better than anyone else, Xiumin realizes just how much he carries. “Bring me back some chips!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Xiumin lazily sing-songs, waving a hand in the air.

He ducks when he hears a hiss behind him, the dirty cloth his brother used often flying overhead.

Xiumin secretly enjoyed this. He really did.

-

Not long down the hallway, Xiumin spots two suspicious young men fighting their way down towards the lounge. He presses himself against the wall when they shove each other past him, long arms and limbs flying all over the place.

“Hm.” He breathes. “Interesting.”

It would be wrong not to follow, his conscience tells him. He agrees with it.

“She’ll hate your guts!”

“Well, she already hates yours!”

“Tao, I’m older! You have to listen to me!”

“Yeah. Right. Okay.” The boy called Tao scoffs, rolling his dark eyes.

Xiumin notices that this younger boys eyes are oddly nut-shaped and hold a scary edge to them.

“Give that back to me!” The older one scowls.

It’s a wonder to Xiumin how they haven’t severely injured themselves, being as tall as the ceiling and all. He takes a glance at the ceiling—yup, only inches away from hitting the top of their heads.

Tao drops the small box he holds in his hands and the other boy jumps for it.

“Fine, take it!” Tao groans. “Qian will know I chose it anyways.”

The other boy brushes imaginary dust off of the small box. “You, common sense, buy some. We chose it together, idiot.”

“Nothing about that gift says ‘Minho’ on it.” Tao remarks. “It screams ‘Tao’.”

Minho gags. “Yeah, okay.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but—“

Both boys turn around and look down at him, eyes narrowed. Xiumin feels something creeping down his spine. “Yeah?” They say in unison.

Xiumin takes a step back. “Victoria’s brothers, I’m assuming?”

“Who are you?” They press, taking a dangerously close step forward.

The bartender takes a large gulp. “She’s not in the hotel today. Victoria took her tour group out into the main city for a run. They’ll be back for dinner, though.”

“It’s your fault!” Tao grumbles. “We could have left earlier!”

Minho shoves Tao into the wall. “As if you could have convinced mom to be any faster with her incredible cooking skills.”

“At least I didn’t take an hour to wash the vegetables.” Tao retorts.

The older boy looks offended. “Well, at least I have the guts to call your dad and tell him that we’re skipping school to visit our sister!”

“I would have done it if mom didn’t make me finish the laundry!” Tao argues. “You are such a sissy!”

Feeling pretty much invisible, Xiumin silently excuses himself and makes a quick pace out to the front desk while the pair of brothers continue fighting their way back to the entrance of the hotel.

“I can’t make it to the game on Sunday, Xiumin. I have to work.”

Xiumin frowns. “But Luhan, it’s the biggest soccer game of this season and my brother is finally being nice enough to give me the day off! Can’t you take a day off, too?”

“No.” Luhan tells him firmly. “As much as I’d love to go, I promised Kyungsoo that I’d take his shift so he could visit his relative in the hospital.”

They hear a loud bang and jump, both turning large deer eyes in the direction of the noise. Tao is running away from Minho with a large, victorious grin.

The bell hopper smirks at them from behind the luggage cart. “Now that’s what I call brotherhood.”

Xiumin laughs, pointing at a car stopped at the front entrance. “You’ve got people to help, brother.”

“It’s never ending.” Chanyeol sighs, dragging himself across the floor and immediately masking on the world’s most intimidating smile one can muster. It’s cute, Xiumin thinks.

“So, about Sunday—“

Luhan slams his guest list shut and glares at Xiumin through his doe like eyes. “N. O. No!”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!” Xiumin begs, pursed lips and all. “You are the only other person I know around here that’s into soccer. Please, Luhan? Pleeeeeeease?”

The clerk lowers his head in defeat, thrumming his fingers on his temple to calm his growing headache. Chanyeol was right, he regrettably considers to himself, the work here is never ending.

-

Yesung walks into the kitchen with his aged bottle of tequila in hand.

“Ew.” Sungmin scrunches up his face. “Where’s Xiumin?”

Without acknowledging the cook, Yesung walks deeper into the kitchen and sets his drink down on the metal counter. “I’m hungry.”

“Go buy yourself some food then.” Sungmin remarks.

Yesung crosses his arms over his chest. “Make me something.”

“Why should I?” Sungmin retorts.

“I always provide you with the best of alcohol but all you have to do is send Luna or Tiffany over to the bar with peanuts. Contribute, would you?” Yesung argues rightfully. “I want salmon.”

Sungmin scoffs. “Right. Well, there’s no salmon here for you, but what about marinated steak?”

“There could be better, but I’ll make do.” Yesung smirks.

“Really, though,” Sungmin says, “where is Xiumin?”

Yesung shrugged. “Probably went to look for Luhan or something. He’s been pestering me about a day off for a soccer game—god knows how annoying he can get when it comes to soccer.”

“It’s because he knows you’ll give in.” Sungmin grins. “Why don’t you tell him to take Eunhyuk with him or something? That kid loves soccer, too.”

“Not so sure Xiumin would enjoy watching soccer with an assistant manager. Plus, if Eunhyuk is there, he’d definitely drag Junsu with him—I think the two of them would be way too much for Xiumin to digest.”

Sungmin laughs. “Not untrue. I bet they already have tickets, anyways. They wouldn’t miss a single game for their life.”

“Hm.” Yesung hums. “So, I hear you’ve got a loverbo—“

“Sungmin!”

A corner of Yesung’s lips twitch and raises at a dangerous level, his smirk a little discerning. Sungmin narrows his eyes.

“Speaking of the devil. Well, I’ll leave the two of you be, then.”

Donghae glances at Yesung. “Hi.”

“Hey!”

Sungmin bites down on his lip as he watches Yesung snatch the marinated beef from his hands and turns to leave. “Yesung!”

“Sungmin, is the food ready? Jungmo and Henry will be here any moment now!” Donghae smiles.

“Almost.” Sungmin nods, looking around himself consciously. He gestures for Donghae to hand him the bottle of alcohol.

Donghae frowns. “More?”

“My food goes best with a bit of alcohol.” Sungmin shrugs. “They don’t have to have any if they don’t want.”

The translator nods.

“What is this anyways…” Sungmin wonders aloud. “Agav—that Yesung! Tequila is really hard to match up with just any dish!”

Donghae is startled by the angry Sungmin. “They can just pass on the drink like you s—“

“I’ll be right back, Donghae.” Sungmin cuts him off. “Don’t touch anything! You know how easily you break things.”

“But—“

And before Donghae can finish his trail of thought, Sungmin has already run out of the kitchen.

From his position, Donghae can hear a low shout of pain; it sort of sounds like Yesung.

Sungmin returns with the same bottle of alcohol in hand, his cheeks flushed a light tint of red.

“What happened?” Donghae asks worriedly.

The older man shakes his head. “Yesung was right. This Agave is aged really well, so the taste is just strong enough but not too much to overwhelm the taste buds—the aromatic twist in it settles well on the tongue without leaving any bitter aftertaste lingering. It will go well with my dish.”

“He knows you well.” Donghae comments sadly.

Sungmin chuckles. “Well, I guess he’s my best friend for a reason, huh?”

From then on, Donghae makes a mental note to keep a good eye on Yesung. A very, very good eye on this best friend Yesung.