Kyungsoo came over to her house that night to spread study materials all over her dining table. He also brought a little homemade snack in the tin she’d used to give him cookies as a returning favour, and also because Kyungsoo was Kyungsoo and he must have thought it impolite to return an empty tin.

They ate while they studied, and when the clock struck eleven and Kyungsoo announced he had another half an hour before his departure, she nudged her chair closer to him, and asked him to listen.

She told him about Jongin, mostly because Kyungsoo deserved to know the fate of their co-worker after standing witness to him plunging through the rain. She mentioned Sehun, praised his shy demeanor and because she couldn’t help it, his fair good looks. Kyungsoo snorted, but then composed himself when she told him of Sehun’s surprising revelation.

“He could have fooled me,” Kyungsoo said in the end, after spending a minute in speechless silence. “He’s dignified in the way he presents himself: his straight-backed, though languid, walk, and his easy eloquence. It crossed my mind once that he might have been the son of a person of consequence.”

“I know,” she responded morosely. “I just feel so sad after I knew though. I didn’t know his life was that hard.”

“He’s the type that can smile through hardship.” Kyungsoo stacked his books; they came to be a tower before being swept into his bag. “You just come to be like that sometimes, after you’ve endured so much.”

“He never told me anything before.”

“Maybe because he thinks its not worth telling.” His bag came together with the snap of a pulled zipper. “Maybe because he didn’t want pity.”

“He’s a friend and I’ve no idea.” She frowned onto the grainy wood, its texture of scratched spirals and disjointed pen marks.

“Maybe he didn’t want you to know. Jongin is strong-willed; he wouldn’t have accepted charity. That Sehun is helping him to such lengths is probably eating him inside out in his sleep. There’s nothing you could do, besides to continue giving him his pay.”

“He touched my cheek yesterday,” she blurted, before the words managed to sink out of significance. “Said he was not worth to be worried over.”

She sensed rather than saw Kyungsoo pause. His hands hovered over the table, orchestrating shadows above spirals of old ink on the tabletop. It was a while before he spoke. “He clearly dislikes having you distressed then.”

There were other things that Kyungsoo was thinking; she saw it in his brows and his flickering eyes. But upon realising her scrutiny, he dropped his head, and shouldered his bag when he stood. “I should go. It’s already late.”

She walked him out, wishing him a quiet goodbye. He hesitated at the door, halfway to turning away, glasses gleaming like dewdrops under the moonlight. He sighed, somewhat in defeat, and whirled in his heels to face her again.

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you don’t want my interference where this area is concerned, and as I’ve apparently been appointed as messenger, I am dutifully obliged as a friend to ensure the message is passed. Baekhyun says thank you. He enjoyed your company in the library and hopes that, should another opportunity presents itself, he can study with you again.” He cleared his throat, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t see the point of keeping this information from you, if it means your scorning me for eternity. Just trust that I really care for you, and I hope you’ll know the right thing to do when the time comes.”

He hugged her, so suddenly and fleetingly that she barely had time to return it. Seconds later, she was watching his silhouette recede in the darkness, a shadow amidst shadows, a faithful guardian under moonlight.

It was only a few days later that she saw Sehun again, beanie crushing his head of dark brown locks, veins trailing beneath a thin wrist of jutting bone as he inspected a can in the dull hum of the supermarket.

She wouldn’t have thought to bother him if the run in hadn’t been so sudden. She all but crashed into him when she popped into the aisle, yelping, jumping away before the basket could jab into his rib.

They blinked at each other under the fluorescent lights.

Seeing that Sehun looked like a caught deer and was clearly flustered by the near miss, she decided that it fell over her head to start the conversation.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” His response was so quick that she thought it merely reflex, but then he softened the brusqueness with a small smile, and she took it as an invitation to further their conversation.

“How are you?” she asked politely.

“I’m fine.” He fiddled with the can, clumsily nudging it between a loaf of bread and soy sauce in his basket. “Though I’m guessing you’re going to ask the same about Jongin too?”

She felt a bit sheepish when she nodded. Either she was as transparent as glass or Sehun was incredibly, uncannily adept at reading unspoken lines between words.

“He was as sick as a dog for the past few days. But I think he’s better now. His mother’s worried sick, and he’s worried that he’s missing his shifts.” Sehun rolled his eyes, shifting in his feet. “You know, we can just move along and talk. You’ve got your list and I’ve got mine, and well… this conversation is going to take a while.”

 She almost laughed. He was intuitive and sensible. She rather liked him.

She followed him to the next aisle, grabbing a bottle of mayonnaise on the way while he appeared to be on a hunt for crackers. “You should tell Jongin not to worry so much. My parents were appalled when I told him how seriously ill he was. They said he can take as many day-offs as he wants if it means him getting better.”

“I think he just misses you,” Sehun suddenly blurted, then widened his eyes and blushed deep scarlet after the words sunk in.

“I…” she was at a loss to respond.

Sehun smiled at her, his cheeks losing their sudden tint of colour. He made a valiant attempt at salvaging the situation; she had a feeling it was more for her benefit than his. “He’s grown really fond of you, and I’m rather happy about it. Jongin’s a rare apple in our school, and that he’s talented at what he does makes it worse for him. He only has me to cling to, and I pretty much need some breathing space.” He laughed.

She cracked a smile. “I owe him so much.”

“Jongin probably won’t claim anything for it.” He reached onto a high shelf, pulled out a box of Cheerios she’d been eyeing, and handed it to her.

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve to be in contact with someone like him,” she said, part joking and part serious.

Sehun shook his head, expression gentle. “Nah. You’re a good person, I can tell. And Jongin really needs good people in his life.” He checked his watch. “I gotta jet. My family’s big on dining together for dinners.”

He was about to turn when he pursed his lips, thinking. He then set down his basket and fished through his pockets, coming out successful with a pen and paper, writing quickly, hand a rapid blur. “I know you didn’t ask, but this is his address. I thought you might need it, in case you’d like to visit or something.” He winced at himself, tugging it away by a fraction. “But you probably already have it since you have his work files.”

“No, I’d like to have it. I haven’t seen those files in ages anyway.”

Sehun handed it to her gratefully. “I’m not forcing you to visit or anything, you know.”

“I know, Sehun. I know. Thank you.”

Sehun smiled and bade goodbye.

 She learned that Jongin lived far on the edge of town, accessible by a long bus ride from the supermarket, a house so old and small that it was a wonder how it still stood. Despite its age though, it was quaint and well-kept, with a box of flowers and a swept porch. It was taller than it was wide, bowing, sandwiched in the sides by two identical models. She was busy contemplating it in its entirety when the door swung open. Through it emerged a figure in black, a sleek and tall phantom in a trailing a long scarf.

She smiled at Jongin through her surprise. Shock froze his limbs on his own doorstep, and the flash of emotion that passed his eyes was a dart of swift silver scales in a still, fathomless pool. He hunched, shrugged his coat on tighter, and pulled his scarf down to speak.

“Of all the things I expected on the other side of the door, I never once thought it’d be you.”

“I’m here to visit someone sick,” she said, and then added, more softly, “You shouldn’t be walking about.”

Jongin raked his fingers through his hair. For a brief second, he revealed a face that had back its colour, eyes that had lost their daze.

“I’ve never been one to sit still,” he admitted. “I’d heal better this way, with a walk and fresh air.” Those dark eyes flitted to her, and something like tenderness passed across his face, “Care to join me?”

 She spread her hands in a helpless shrug. “Why not?”

Jongin smiled, jerking his chin, stepping onto the path leading westward. She fell into step next to him. There was a companionable silence before he spoke, cutting through the rustling leaves, the gust of wind.

“How’d you find my house?”

“I looked for your address in the resume you gave my parents,” she lied. Best not to reveal that it was by Sehun’s intervention, lest Jongin disapproved.

“It’s not much,” he said lightly, but even with the loud, distracting presence of the elements he still wasn’t able to hide his anxiety.

“It’s a beautiful house,” she told him honestly.

Jongin swept a sideways glance at her, pulling his lips into a tentative smile.

“Where are we going?”

Jongin pulled his coat on tighter. “I was just thinking of meandering down the streets before you came, but since I’m with company now so… somewhere with food?”

She shivered as wind slithered down her spine. “Sounds absolutely lovely.”

Jongin took her to a street stall not too far from his home, snuggled beneath a tall tree that shook and swayed in the roughest of gales. He wordlessly pulled up the tarp for her, and then ducked in himself with a plastered smile, which he directed at the middle-aged woman who beamed exultantly at his entrance. The arrival of the food came in a bit of a rush for Gayoon, but a quarter of an hour later they were huddled in their seats, sipping noodles from a piping hot broth.

Jongin wasn’t as talkative as usual and his eyes stayed on his food more often than it did her. Surreptitiously, she snuck glances at him, his dark lashes and pretty jaw.

“I must have said some stupid things that day,” Jongin suddenly said, startling her. “My mother always told me that I’d do that, when my temperature’s high enough.”

“You don’t remember?” She thought of the question that came out of his lips that day, about Baekhyun and her heart.

“Well, not much. Perhaps about half.” He had his head bent over his bowl, and in that short pause he’d lifted his gaze, looking at her beneath dusty lashes. “I remember what you did for me though. Thank you,” he finished quietly.

She blushed. “You already thanked me that day, before Sehun dragged you home.”

Jongin rubbed his neck, smile going crooked. “I guess I did, huh? Like I said, I tend to forget.”

“Does this mean all’s forgiven?”

He paused with his chopsticks hovering over his bowl, with nothing in his expression to betray his thoughts.

“If anything I should be the one apologising to you,” he said carefully. “I’ve made myself quite the challenge this past week.”

“Yes you did,” she agreed, a bit too wholeheartedly.

Jongin laughed, and dipped his chopsticks into the broth. He came out with a fishball and popped it into his mouth.

“And Jongin?”

“Hmmm?” he hummed, swirling his noodles in the bowl.

“I know kindness is your nature, but please don’t do something as stupid as running in the rain again.”

Something passed in his eyes before he spoke, something that had nothing to do with Jongin’s usual plethora of emotions. She thought she’d seen it only once, when he watched Yeonjoo dance.

“You think I was being kind?”

“Yes, and very foolishly so, too.”

He smiled, secretive, if a little tragic. He patted her lightly on the hand and left the warmth to travel up her arm, into her heart. “Some things you just can’t stop caring about.”

It was a bit late when Jongin sent her on her way, a little upset that she’d forbade him to walk her. He looked healthier with food in his stomach and a bit of company, but she still couldn’t bring herself to let him walk her home. As a final desperate attempt to rebuke his insistence, she’d pressed her hand against Jongin’s forehead and proclaimed his temperature too warm for adventure.

He was surprised, shocked to silence, and when she pulled away he was oddly more subdued, rubbing at the creeping red flush on his neck. He agreed but saw her to the bus anyway.

On the way back, she let herself lose her control, the rein she kept over her emotions. She let her heart beat louder, a drum in her ears; she let her fingers tingle and the warmth in her heart to rise to her cheeks. She pressed her hands against the cold glass window and leaned her forehead, closing her eyes, mulling her fate.

Why was she doomed to fall for boys whose hearts belonged to other people?

It was little consolation to think that Jongin, even without his looks, without his eyes fathoms deep, could have made any girl in close contact with him fall for him. He was so sweet that it was utterly heartbreaking.

She felt a spark: a bit of conscience, a smidgen of guilt. She felt herself unfaithful to her feelings for Baekhyun, then reminded herself that there was no one to betray, for Baekhyun himself was spoken for and never spoke for her. Out of curiosity, she reached deep into her unconscious. She looked for the box with Baekhyun’s name, pulled it out, opened it with care. She folded herself in her memories of him, in the creases of his eyes and the texture of his voice.

Then she opened them in surprise, for her heart never leapt once, and kept its normal pace throughout the recall of that rainy night, where they shared an umbrella, and Baekhyun held her closer than he ever did.