Professor Choi had gathered every sealed envelope, indistinguishable from the next, and placed them in a box. “As a reminder, this assignment is an exercise to learn how to portray something with no context. You don’t know the author. For all anyone is concerned, you are the author of the monologue you are reading.”

One kid raised his hand and asked what would happen if they got their own monologue.

“Is there a chance that happens? Yes. Is it a very, very little chance? Also yes. If it does happen, I expect you to speak to me privately and give me the envelope and I will approach every other student to see if anyone would like to switch. The first person to reply to my inquiry gets the switch. In the case that two people have their own, I will facilitate the switch between those two monologues. If it turns out that too many people get their own, I’ll just call a redraw.” She thought for a very brief moment, and then nodded to herself. “But I highly doubt that will happen.”

Joonmyun leaned in to whisper to Kyungsoo, “Kill me.”

Kyungsoo chuckled and nodded in agreement.

After class, the two of them went to get bubble tea. The barista nearly cried at the sight of Joonmyun, though he was nothing more than vaguely familiar to Kyungsoo.

“Joonmyun, thank you so much for what you did for Sehun,” the man said. “I know it isn’t much at all in comparison, but both of your teas are on me. It’s the least I can do.”

Joonmyun smiled. “Hey, whatever it takes for a friend.”

Kyungsoo glanced at Joonmyun but stayed silent until they sat down, drinking their tea. “So what was that about?”

Joonmyun took a large gulp of his strawberry milk tea and cleared his throat. “Umm, I paid Oh Sehun’s bail last night.”

“Oh Sehun got arrested? And you paid his bail? I didn't know you were that close.”

“We aren't, really. It was a favor for a friend.”

“Paying Oh Sehun’s bail was a favor to someone else?” Kyungsoo asked. “Who in the world are you close enough to and who is also close enough to Sehun for that situation to be viable?”

Joonmyun’s heart rate picked up exponentially. He was afraid his friend could hear it across the table. “It’s none of your business. I have friends other than you and Baekhyun, you know!” He stood up dizzyingly fast and walked off, trying to play more offended than petrified.

“Joon, that’s not what I meant!” Kyungsoo yelled, all for naught.

***

“See what I mean?” Kris asked. “Yixing isn’t trustworthy.”

“Okay, Yifan, I get it. Would you stop that already?” Zitao was getting really annoyed with Kris’ endless ‘I told you so’s.

“I’m just saying, I--”

“Yeah. You told me so. Quit it. Quit sheltering me. Not all of my friends have to be flawless. Hell, you’re not flawless. Neither am I. Literally no human being on Earth is. Would you stop this ing superiority complex in its tracks? Please?”

“I’m not sheltering you, I--”

“That is exactly what you are doing right now, Yifan. You’ve been at it since the moment I got off that damned plane. Stop it.”

Kris sighed. “Tao, I’m not--”

“Quit it, Fan. I’m serious.” He threw his backpack over his shoulder and headed off to class. Kris caught his wrist, pulled him back, and gave him a kiss.

“Have a good day, Tao.”

“Just because you kissed me and told me to have a good day does not mean this argument is over.” Zitao returned a kiss and waved. “Neither did that.”

Kris groaned. Part of him wanted to wish Zitao had never come here. The other part told him that that was stupid, and of course he wanted Zitao here. He could take the occasional arguments. If he was going to marry this man, he had to truly love him. Which he did. He loved him, arguments and all.

He loved how much he had gone through and made it out like a champion. He loved that he wouldn't let anyone push his head down. He loved how resilient he was in the face of adversity.

Was he sheltering him? Was what he was doing considered sheltering? All he had wanted was to make his stay as smooth as possible. He had wanted no bumps in the roads, no pebbles for Zitao to trip over. Was that sheltering? He had figured that Zitao had gone through so much at home already, he had just wanted to give him a break.

He glanced at the clock by the bedside. Two things snapped him out of his thoughtful daze; one, he was going to be late to class, and two, Zitao had left his pills here. He was supposed to take them at the same time every day, an hour from now, but Zitao wasn't meant to be back for another five hours. Closer inspection of the blister pack, he figured that Zitao had missed quite a few timed pills.

“ing hell Zitao, this ’