Yixing had been grateful to learn that only the interns were going out to dinner together after work had ended. Baekhyun had said that he was forgiven, but it still would have been very uncomfortable to be in his presence for very long. All of the interns were very excited about going out. Apparently, Jongin was paying and this was a cause for celebration. Yixing hardly knew how they had gotten outside and onto the bus in the midst of such chaotic jubilation.

The bus ride to the restaurant had been very short, but had felt eternal to Yixing. He had gotten the window seat next to Amber, who was happily showing him pictures of Kris, her boyfriend, on her phone. He really was a giant. Yixing probably should have expected that when Chanyeol, who was enormous himself, called him tall. Kris had dark, severe eyebrows and what would have been a cold and serious face in person, but in pictures with Amber, he looked adorably ridiculous. Amber’s thumb swiped across the screen. Kris and Amber in Pokemon suits. Kris and Amber with their hair spiked up like dinosaurs. Kris in a frilly apron and Amber with a fake moustache.

“He’s very handsome. You two look very happy together.” Yixing told her truthfully.

“That’s sweet of you! You know, you’re the first person who has actually let me show them pictures of Kris and me! I think I’ll keep you around.” She shot him a lewd wink. Yixing blushed at the gesture, even though there wasn’t any real intention behind it. “But, if we’re going to be friends, I need to know one thing about you.” She suddenly dead-panned. Yixing braced himself for a personal question. “Do you...like...llamas?”

“I...guess?” Yixing replied haltingly, hoping he had understood her meaning. Her lips twitched and she burst into loud guffaws.

Oh. She was joking. Is it too late for me to laugh now? Oh no, I’m being awkward.

The restaurant they arrived at was a small Korean barbecue place settled in between a convenience store and a shoe-repair shop. It was obviously family-owned, full of that comfort and warmth that always made Yixing feel safe and happy. He was shuffled in by the large group of young people and felt a wave of heat punch the cold out of his body. Tables of varying sizes were spread out across the little restaurant and about half of them were occupied. Small children whined and giggled at their parents, business men drank good-naturedly, grandmothers teased granddaughters about boyfriends. Yixing liked it. After a moment, a pretty girl in a simple green apron approached them from across the restaurant. Her hair was silky black and cut bluntly at her shoulders. Bangs framed her face, giving her the appearance of a doll. She looked to be about seventeen or eighteen, probably still in high school, and had a very good-natured air about her.

“Hello everyone! Welcome back! Do you want your usual spot?”

“Yes please, Kyungmi.” Jongin replied kindly, smiling at her.

He’s very handsome when he smiles. Yixing thought, lost in the way his eyes shrugged into half-moons.

“Oppa! Are you not going to say hello to me?” Kyungmi leaned around Jongin to address Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo furrowed his eyebrows, shooting her a glare that would have sent tears to Yixing’s eyes if it had been directed at him. Kyungmi did not seem fazed. The word “oppa”, Yixing remembered, was a term of affection girls used for older boys, usually close friends, siblings, or boyfriends. Yixing didn’t think a boyfriend would glare at his girlfriend the way Kyungsoo was, but he couldn’t quite think of another way they could be involved. Kyungmi was very pretty... A pout adorning her lips, the waitress strode over to where Kyungsoo stood and grabbed him harshly by the ear, leading him after her as she skipped across the restaurant to the largest table. “Oppa, you better be nice to me!” She sang. “Umma will kick your if you’re mean to your lovely little sister!”

Oh, she’s his sister! That makes sense, then.

The interns chuckled, but didn’t seem as intrigued by the novelty of the siblings’ behavior as Yixing was. The Chinese boy was left to conclude that this sort of thing happened often enough that it wasn’t really interesting anymore. The group took their seats around the long table and settled into a peaceful, but loud, pattern of chatter and banter. Minseok seemed to really enjoy teasing Kyungmi about how short she was, something that made her pinch his cheeks and pull his hair, which only seemed to make the round-faced man smile wider. Yixing was mostly quiet, settled between Chanyeol and Jongin, and happily observing his new coworkers. Kyungmi brought food and soju without being asked, and Yixing could only assume that they went there often enough that Kyungmi already knew what they were going to order. Kyungsoo appointed himself ‘meat attendant’ and refused to let anyone else turn the meat because “You always burn it or leave it half raw!” No one really paid much attention to the new member of their group for the first quarter of an hour or so. Not until Sehun leaned across the table and, raising an eyebrow, asked Yixing:

“So, what do you do for fun?”

“I, uh,” Yixing struggled for a response. “Well, in high school I spent most of my free-time studying, but I’ve always really liked music. I have a guitar that I taught myself to play. I like to dance, I used to that a lot at home...” He trailed off shyly.

“Like in a studio?” Jongin cut in, joining the conversation with a surprising amount of interest. “I was a member of a ballet studio for a number of years when I was younger.” He clarified.

“N-no. Nothing like that. It was, um, street-dance. I’ve never had any formal training,” Yixing looked down at his lap, absent-mindedly threading his fingers together. “I never told my father or my grandmother because I really shouldn’t have been wasting time on street-dance when I could have been studying, but I liked it too much to quit. I used to tell them that I had to work late on Friday nights so I could go to this one dance club in the warehouse district of Beijing.” The boy’s eyes crinkled up at the memory of those mindless, blissful nights of no responsibility. He could forget everything in the strain of his muscles, the drip of his sweat, the pounding of the music.

“That’s pretty cool, actually. You look like a nerd so I thought you would have said something like ‘reading classic literature,’” Sehun told him. Yixing gave a little nervous chuckle.

“Street-dance? I thought that was usually something you did with a group.” questioned Jongin, obviously intrigued.

“Usually, yes. But I’ve always preferred dancing alone, so I would only compete if someone else challenged me. I never signed up for a competition like most dance crews do.” Yixing made eye contact with Jongin and was interested to find that his eyes had lit up like windows on dark nights. He looked so completely happy.

“That’s so neat!” He grinned and continued to pepper Yixing with questions as the group ate and drank themselves into a stupor. Yixing and Jongin were the only ones who stayed sober. Even Kyungmi talked Chanyeol into letting her have a few gulps of shoju when Kyungsoo wasn’t looking.Yixing had never tried alcohol before, and didn’t really have an interest in beginning his experience with the stuff. Too often had he seen his father intoxicated, and Uncle too....but he wouldn’t think about that. Not when he was so happy. Everyone was smiling and laughing and he and Jongin had gotten into a deep discussion about modern dance that coaxed Yixing into talking more than he had in a very long time. The dinner passed too quickly, and soon it was getting late. Lurching up from their seats, the herd of young adults filtered slowly outside, waving goodbyes and heading off to catch taxis or busses Yixing was just about to walk to the bus stop after Tao, when Jongin caught up to him.

“Hey, Zhang Yixing,” began the young man, adjusting his tie like he was nervous about something, “If you’re not busy Thursday night, would you like to come see a dance exhibition with me after work? It’s a performance that a local dance academy holds every year and is usually very good...” he cleared his throat and shoved one hand into his coat pocket. Yixing was surprised by the offer. No one had really invited him to do something like that before. He felt a warmth spread through his chest cavity and sparkle in his cheeks.

“Oh yes! I would like that very much. Thank you!” He grinned at the taller boy.

“Really? Great! Here, let me give you my phone number.” Still bewildered by the workings of his new phone, Yixing just handed it over to Jongin, who expertly created himself as a contact, a little smile of amusement twinkling in his eyes when the Chinese boy admitted to having no idea how to use his new phone. After he finished adding his information, he said his goodbyes and left to call a taxi. Alone now, Yixing boarded the bus and began the journey home. When he was opening his apartment's front door a half-hour later, he received a text message.

I’m glad I hired you, Zhang Yixing. See you tomorrow

    -Jongin