12. Socializing        BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.     The etching sound that lightly danced across the bedroom window was enough to send his back straight. Jongin woke up from a restless sleep due to the growing chime of the alarm clock.    His hopes and dreams that he was part of a nightmare were annihilated with the sound coming from the device. His first day in hell had officially begun.   The fluorescent numbers of the alarm clock near his bedside with the time of 5am. Back in Seoul he could have slept for one more hour, but things were different in Busan. He was working on the salad until 1am, until he was satisfied with the result, he barely got four hours to restore his sanity.    Slowly and reluctantly, did Jongin uncover his face. He blinked, closing his eyes and opening them again. Streaks of sunlight penetrated the window, blinding him as he soaked in the warmth of his covers. He sits up, dragging his feet off the bed, and rubbing his knuckles onto his eyes. Eventually, he got out of bed, stumbling across to the other side of the cabin as his drowsiness had still not left him at all.   The obnoxious school uniform was layed in front of him, washed and ironed. He hesitated for a moment, but knowing that protests wouldn't improve his current situation he changed into the school uniform. The white shirt hugged his defined body.    He slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed to the dining room where a breakfast is already set.    "Good morning, Jongin! I was about to call you for breakfast. Are you fine with cereal? I wasn't sure whether you'd have been happier with pancakes."   It had once been an impressive dining-room but years of neglect had taken it's toll. The table was long and solid wood, two bowls were placed on the table and two old white chairs from the thrift store stood beside it. Now that the room was lit by the sunlight, Jongin could examine it further.    The table stood like some medieval banquet table in the middle of the room. The once crisp golden wallpaper was torn in places. On the walls were gilded mirrors, but the frames were dusty, and the light that shone off them showed years of flecks of dirt and food that was never polished off.    "I'm absolutely fine with cereal, I don't eat breakfast normally," Jongin answered, lying boldly. He was used to a fancy breakfast; ham, bacon, fried potatoes, pancakes, everything he could ask for, but living under these circumstances, he felt bad for even eating their precious food they worked hard for.    He seated himself across from Xiumin, filled his bowl with milk and cereal, and dug into the food. He ate rapidly, stuffing his mouth full.   "About Kyungsoo," Xiumin began, but his voice faded away by the sounds of Jongin's constant crunching. He ate so noisily for having such a soft voice.    "You told me yesterday that you don't want him to know that the salad is from you. My dad has the master key for the lockers." Jongin's eyes widen. "But before I borrow the key, you have to answer me something honestly."     "What is it?" the Quarterback asked, stopping immediately.    "Why do you even worry about him that much?" Xiumin questions, gingerly filling the spoon and placing the cereal in his mouth.   The food became Kai's second priority and he focused on his opponent, thinking about a way to express his emotions out loud. "The boy is more fragile than the glass ballerina that sits on my dresser at home. I think, if I were to spin him too hard in a dancing class his limbs might just snap. A decent tackle on the pitch and he gets paraplegic."    "Wait, you dance?"   "I used to. Anyway, Kyungsoo is incapable of taking care of himself properly. That's