When Kyuhyun and his father walked into the barber shop on a sweltering summer’s day, they found pandemonium. The barber shop was full: loud businessmen, chattering bridesmaids and bridegrooms, a harried father of two toddlers, and to top it off, a baby wailing loudly. 

Kyuhyun put his hands over his ears, his face screwed up in pain. 

“My precious ears hurt, appa!” 

He felt someone clasp his hand, gently pulling him back outside the barber shop. Mr. Cho followed suit. 

“There are so many people inside. They all appeared so fast. It’s like magic.” Ryeowook’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Appa had to call Mrs. Lee to come and help him!” 

“Ah, should we come back then, Ryeowookie?” asked Mr. Cho. 

“Mmm no, appa said it should take about a half an hour until he’s ready for you. He told me to buy a snack next door and eat it with you while we wait. Like ice cream. Definitely ice cream.” Ryeowook's eyes shone as he pushed some money into Mr. Cho’s hands. 

“Ryeowookie, I don't know about you eating anything sugary. Maybe something-” 

But the boy had started shaking his head vigorously, his hands out in a 'stop' position in front of him. 

“No, Mr. Cho, it's a hot, hot day so we need cold, cold ice cream!” the boy chirped, bouncing on the spot. 

“But Ryeowook-ah, I feel like your father wouldn't want you to eat anything with sugar...” His voice faltered as he saw the excitement on Ryeowook’s face, but then he shook his head, his face resolute. He put on an apologetic expression, “Sorry, Ryeowook-ah, I don't think I could deal with- I mean, I don't think it's a good idea to eat ice cream right now. It's too hot – it'll melt too quickly, don't you think? How about we get something else instead, like some cool, refreshing lemonade and some patbingsu, hm?” Mr. Cho grabbed his son's hand and set off without a response from Ryeowook. 

The ice cream deprived boy pouted, crossing his arms, feet planted on the ground in defiance. But as Mr. Cho and Kyuhyun got farther, his resolve gradually broke down until he halfheartedly ran after them, catching up to them just as they were about to enter the convenience store. He dragged his feet as he entered behind Kyuhyun, still pouting. 

“Oh, hello Ryeowookie!” greeted the clerk, “Are you here with friends?” 

Ryeowook nodded sullenly then slid over to the ice cream freezer, staring at the contents, eyes longing. 

“Ryeowook-ah…” said Mr. Cho warningly. 

“Fine,” replied the boy sharply, “If we’re not going to have ice cream, then let’s eat it outside at least!” He stomped outside, dragging Kyuhyun behind him.

Mr. Cho laughed awkwardly as the clerk gave him a curious glance. 

“Actually my son and I are customers at the barber shop. It seems like Mr. Kim is pretty busy today so we came over to have something to cool off before my son gets his hair cut.” 

“Oh, that's nice,” she commented, “But why is Ryeowookie so sad?” 

“Ryeowook-ah wanted ice cream.” 

Her eyes rounded in understanding. 

“Oh...I see. Yes, Ryeowookie really loves ice cream. Really really loves ice cream.” She smiled. 

“Good, so you understand.” Mr. Cho laughed. “So, I need three unsweetened lemonades and the least sweet patbingsu you have.”

“You go watch the boys outside. I’ll prepare it for you. I’m sure you’ll have your hands full with an unhappy Ryeowookie,” she said, winking. 

Mr. Cho nodded, then wandered off outside, finding his son sitting on the curb in front of the barber shop playing a game on his DS and Ryeowook sitting beside him, trying to kick a small rock as he stared glumly at the parking lot. Mr. Cho stood behind the two boys, already perspiring slightly because of the heat. He cleared his throat.

“Look, Ryeowookie, I’m sorry that we didn’t eat ice cream. But I ordered us some refreshing patbingsu and lemonade instead. Doesn’t that sound good?” 

Ryewoook grumbled to himself then turned to look at Mr. Cho, sulking. 

“Mr. Cho, you don’t understaaand. Patbingsu is so boooring. But ice cream is different – you can get a popsicle, haagen-daaz, an ice cream cone, an ice cream sandwich and so much more!” he said with glee. “And everybody loves ice cream! It makes everyone happy.” 

Kyuhyun cleared his throat, not taking his eyes off his game. 

“Actually, Ryeowook-ah, I don’t like ice cream so much. It’s too sweet.” 

Ryeowook’s eyes widened. He turned to Kyuhyun robotically.

“You don’t like ice cream Kyuhyun-ah? Are you sure? How can you not like ice cream? You must like ice cream. Nobody doesn’t like ice cream. Especially kids,” he said rapidly in a monotone voice.

Kyuhyun glanced up from his game, noticing the crazed look in Ryeowook’s eyes. 

“I- uh- well-” the boy spluttered, afraid for his life. 

“Kids that don’t like ice cream are suspicious.”

Kyuhyun raised an eyebrow. 

“Suspicious?” 

“Yes. Suspicious. Yesterday I was watching a cartoon and there was an alien that took over a kid’s body. He did really mean things like throwing his garbage on the floor and shoving people. He also didn’t like ice cream,” Ryeowook stated seriously as he narrowed his eyes, staring intently at Kyuhyun. “And you don’t like ice cream, Kyuhyunnie. So,” he paused dramatically, “Who are you, fake-Kyuhyunnie? And what planet do you come from?” 

Kyuhyun just watched the boy, gaping, his game forgotten. Mr. Cho snorted derisively several times. 

“I’m going to go and see if our order is ready,” the man said. And he stepped away, rolling his eyes as he walked towards the convenience store. “What a strange kid. Too big of an imagination, I think. Glad my son isn’t like that,” he muttered. 

“Ryeowook-ah,” said Kyuhyun, lost for words. 

Ryeowook continued to stare back silently. 

“Ryeowook-ah, are you serious?” 

“I- I refuse to share information with an alien. Where did you keep the real Kyuhyunnie?” the boy demanded, his face set in determination. “I want my Kyuhyunnie back!” 

“Ryeowookie, I’m not an alien.” 

“Liar! That’s exactly what an alien would say!” 

“Then how can I prove that I’m not an alien?” asked Kyuhyun, amusement and confusion present in his voice. 

“You have to eat ice cream! Real kids like ice cream! Aliens don’t like ice cream.” 

“Well, I’ll eat patbingsu then. That’s ice cream.” 

“No it isn’t!” 

“Yes it is,” said Kyuhyun, being a smart aleck. “It’s ice with condensed milk – so it’s ice cream!” 

“But- but-“ 

“Admit it Ryeowook-ah!” 

“Fine. If you eat patbingsu then you’re not an alien,” the boy said grudgingly, scowling. 

“Okay, but then you have to do something too,” Kyuhyun added. “You have to...hmm…” His eyes widened as he saw his father and the waitress approach with their order, “You have to sing that ice cream cake song! Except you have to change the words. Instead of saying It’s so tasty, come and chase me, you have to say It’s so yucky, yuck yuck yucky; and instead of saying I scream, you scream, gimme that gimme that ice cream, you have to say I scream, you scream, cuz of yucky yucky ice cream. And you have to sing it out here, where everyone can see!” 

Ryeowook glared at him. 

Kyuhyun raised his head slightly, looking pleased with himself. 

“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.” 

“Fine, it’s a deal then,” Ryeowook stuck out his hand, grabbing Kyuhyun’s hand firmly and shaking it, pulling it towards him as they ended their handshake. “But you should know fake-Kyuhyunnie, I’ll be watching you. Closely.” He narrowed his eyes, then let go of Kyuhyun’s hand. 

The two boys watched as Mr. Cho place the patbingsu container on the sidewalk between them then took their lemonade glasses and spoons from him. Kyuhyun immediately reached out to take a spoonful of the patbingsu but was stopped by Ryeowook. 

“Wait, I need to test it to make sure it’s real,” the boy stated pompously. And he enthusiastically dug into the bingsu tower and stuffed a heaping spoonful of the ice-milk concoction into his mouth, savouring it. He nodded approvingly. 

“Okay Kyuhyunnie, it’s your turn,” he said, his mouth full of ice, “I’m watching you.” 

Ryeowook watched as the younger boy gingerly took a small spoonful of the patbingsu and put it in his mouth. 

“Open your mouth. I need to check that it’s gone,” ordered the older boy. 

Kyuhyun rolled his eyes then did as he was told. 

Ryeowook nodded happily. 

“Good, you’re not an alien. Ah, I was so scared that Kyuhyunnie was stolen from me.” He scooped several big spoonfuls of bingsu in succession and stuffed it in his mouth. “Doesn’t it cool you off? Isn’t it great? It’s not the same as ice cream but it’s close enough,” he said, giving the Chos a big toothy smile as he continued practically inhaling the bingsu. 

“Oi, Ryeowook-ah,” said Kyuhyun slyly. “You have to hold up your end of the bargain you know.” 

Ryeowook shook his head, shaved ice and milk smeared all over his face. 

“First, we have to finish the bingsu before it melts,” he managed to say before continuing his assault on the bingsu tower. 

The Chos watched in silence, occasionally sipping on their drinks, as Ryeowook practically demolished the patbingsu single-handedly.

“Ah, Kyuhyunnie, watch out! It’s dripping.” Ryeowook flailed, sticking out his spoon and running it up Kyuhyun’s hand, collecting some melted ice milk that was dripping downwards. He the liquid off the spoon. “Delicious~”

“You’re weird,” Kyuhyun replied as he watched Ryeowook, a faint blush present on his cheeks. Mr. Cho narrowed his eyes at the boys as he took a sip of his lemonade. He decided to change the topic. 

“So Ryeowookie, how was school for you? Were your grades good?” 

“Good~” he replied then gasped and turned to Kyuhyun. “Oh yeah! My school’s putting on a summer talent show, and guess what I’ll be doing?” 

“I don’t know, cutting hair?” responded Kyuhyun dryly. 

Ryeowook shook his head happily as he finally started sipping on his lemonade. 

“No silly, I’ll be singing!” He puckered his lips as the bitter taste.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Kyuhyun said, smirking. 

“Yeah, you should come see me sing,” Ryeowook continued on, oblivious to Kyuhyun’s sarcasm. “I’m really good! Mr. Cho, can Kyuhyunnie come see me sing?” He directed his puppy dog eyes towards the man. 

Mr. Cho looked uninterested. 

“We’ll see, Ryeowook-ah.” 

“Good! Then you can learn about singing from Master Ryeonggu, Kyuhyunnie.” Ryeowook grinned.

“Master? You wish, Ryeowookie. Soon, I’ll be a much better singer than you will ever be! My vocal instructor lady says I can become a handsome singer when I grow up. She said my tone is gorgeous,” he bragged, proud.

“Not for a while, she hasn’t. I made sure of that,” Mr. Cho quietly muttered. 

Ryeowook tut-tutted, shaking his head dramatically. 

“You need a lot more practice before you catch up to me Kyuhyun-ah. A vocal instructor isn’t enough. You need to do things like go to music camp.” 

“That’s pointless. Appa said they don’t teach you anything useful there. Just dumb stuff. It’s a waste of money. He said I shouldn’t go.” 

“No it isn’t,” Ryeowook balled up his fist in passion. “At music camp, I learn about music from lots of different kinds of people – profezinal ballad singers, violinists, rock bands, pianists, jazz singers! I have lots of friends who I practice with too. I learn how to do harmonies and duets and have tons of fun! It’s the best way to become a great singer.” He nodded sagely.

Kyuhyun looked intrigued. 

“Learn harmonies?” 

“Mm-hmm, it’s very helpful to know how to harmonize with other singers. And the best way to learn is by singing with other people. As a future singer, singing with others is something very important for your career - that’s what Bada-noona said in her interview at music camp!” 

Kyuhyun nodded, absorbing Ryeowook’s advice. 

“I’ll ask umma to sign me up next year then. If it’ll help me become a better singer...” He trailed off, pensive, then started mindlessly humming a tune. 

Mr. Cho furrowed his eyebrows, unhappy with the direction of the conversation. He decided to put in his two cents. 

“But Ryeowook-ah, even though you like singing and go to music camp and do many music-related activities, you’re still going to become a barber when you grow up right? Just like your appa? You wouldn’t want to leave the barber shop empty once your appa gets old right?”

Ryeowook shook his head. 

“When I get older, I’m going to be a singer on TV!” 

The man raised his eyebrow. 

“Oh? Not a barber like your father?”

“No, appa said it’s okay because my dream is to be a singer like Bada-noona! My dream is to sing and be popular and have everyone listen to me and say I’m the greatest singer ever!” 

Kyuhyun guffawed.

“As if, Shrimpy. I’ll bet I can sing-“ 

Mr. Cho interrupted:

“But you know it’s not practical to become a singer, right Ryeowook-ah?” 

“Prac-ti-cal?” The boy asked, perplexed. 

“Practical means that it’s not easy to do something in real life. It may sound good when you say it, but it’s not easy to do it when you try. It takes a lot of hard work.” 

“I’ll work hard!” Ryeowook said, brushing off the comment. 

Kyuhyun opened his mouth to say something, but his father’s now-irritated voice interrupted him once more: 

“But Ryeowook-ah, you know that there are a lot of people who try to become popular and don’t become successful, right? Especially people that are different, like you. Maybe it’s better to become something more realistic, like a music teacher or even a barber like your father? Maybe you should just keep your dreams to be a popular music star a dream only right? It’s better to go into a more reliable profession that brings home the money for your future wife and children and for your parents. You want to be a filial son, right?” Mr. Cho nodded sternly as he looked at Kyuhyun, “You agree, don’t you, son?”

Kyuhyun once again opened his mouth to respond, but Ryeowook cut in:

“But I want to follow my dreams! I know I can do it! And I’ll still be able to take care of umma and appa and my family when I’m on TV; because singers make lots of money.” He nodded confidently. 

“And what if that doesn’t work out? Then what will you do Ryeowook? You can’t always think like a child. You have to grow up and start being a man. And that means adult responsibilities. Dreams are just that; dreams,” Mr. Cho said harshly, his voice now slightly quivering from suppressed emotion. His jaw was clenched, eyes hard. 

“It will work! Because I’ll be doing my best! Like an adult!” Ryeowook dropped his spoon, eyes burning with passion as he responded earnestly. “Appa said I have to work hard to make my dreams come true! And I’m going to do my best and work hard. So then my dreams will come true!” 

“Ryeowook, you know that your best might not be enough, right?" the man spat, his anger overflowing. "Especially for someone weird like you. Instead, you should be like Kyuhyun and go into something solid and reliable like law. Because that's what Kyuhyun will be doing.” His eyes turned to his son, casting a steely glare. “Right, son?” 

Kyuhyun nodded timidly and sipped on his lemonade, dispirited. 

Ryeowook got up, absentmindedly knocking over the remnants of the bingsu. He put his arms on his hips and stood proudly, glaring at the angry man. 

“No. Appa and umma told me to follow my dreams! I want to be a singer so I’ll do my very bestest to become the greatest singer ever! Even if that means that I have to work the hardest ever in my life! Because I love singing the most!” He declared passionately.

Mr. Cho was unhappy. He turned away from the conversation looking stressed out, muttering about that follow your dreams crap and effeminate gay singers. He angrily ran his fingers through his hair several times then walked over to Kyuhyun, yanking the lemonade cup away from his son’s grip and aggressively throwing it out in a nearby bin. He grabbed his son’s hand and tugged the boy back to the car. 

“We’re going Kyuhyun,” he commanded, grinding his teeth. 

“But what about my haircut, appa?” Kyuhyun asked, glancing back at his friend as he was pulled across the parking lot. 

“The line’s too long. We’ll do it elsewhere.” 

“But I want to have Ryeowookie cut my hair!” 

“No.” He opened the car door for Kyuhyun. “Get in. Now. We’re leaving.” 

Kyuhyun once again glanced over at Ryeowook then crossed his arms, frowning, and very slowly got into the car. 

Ryeowook stood on the sidewalk in front of the barber shop, confused as he watched Mr. Cho’s car exit the parking lot. He cocked his head to one side.

What just happened?