It's the first day of school, and Junmyeon can't find Minseok. It shouldn't matter, and it doesn't, really, since he can function perfectly fine with or without Minseok. But seeing Minseok is still a familiar source of comfort, especially when there's a sea of unfamiliar faces around him.

This is the first time they've been in a school together. Junmyeon had worked especially hard to get into this high school, studying nearly every day for the high school entrance exams, memorizing history terms in between breaks of the filming for the movie he's in.

Minseok hadn't been particularly pleased about the news, but then, he's never really pleased about anything. His response to Junmyeon's excited texts of, "I got in hyung!" and "we'll be together next year!" had been a cat sticker wiggling side to side in a shrugging motion. It’s a cute but impersonal way that Minseok uses to say, “So what?”

Junmyeon pulls out his phone to text him: "where are you, hyung?"

Minseok doesn't respond before the students have to go to their respective classrooms, and Junmyeon frowns down at the screen of his phone before putting it into his pocket.

Junmyeon spends most of the breaks in between classes talking to his new classmates and glancing down at his phone. Minseok doesn't respond for the rest of the morning, and Junmyeon wonders if he might have left his phone at home.

By eleven, Junmyeon's attention span is already waning, and he's staring at the clock by the door, counting down the minutes until lunch break. He'd expected high school to be more challenging, but maybe it just builds up gradually.

The teacher wraps up just as the bell rings, and some of the students are on their feet already, eager to leave.

"Hey, are you coming to the cafeteria with us?" Jongdae, who sits in the seat next to Junmyeon, asks.

Junmyeon stands, closing his notebook and sliding his pencil through the bindings. "Sure."

He's walking with Jongdae and a few other classmates to the cafeteria when Minseok walks up to them from around a corner.

"Come with me." He grabs Junmyeon by the arm, all but dragging him away from the others without another word. Junmyeon is barely able to wave at his puzzled classmates over his shoulder.

Junmyeon looks at Minseok curiously, but he doesn't get a chance to ask questions because they’re moving too quickly. They're out of the school in seconds, but Minseok doesn't relax his hold on Junmyeon's arm until they've ducked inside a small restaurant.

"What was that for?" Junmyeon asks, pulling his arm from Minseok's grasp and checking his hair in the shiny surface of the restaurant's walls.

"Here. Read this." Minseok holds his phone out to Junmyeon.

"So you did have your phone with you?" Junmyeon takes the phone, but he keeps his eyes on Minseok.

Minseok rolls his eyes. "Just read it."

"Answer my question first. Why did we run out of there like that?" Minseok doesn't run. He walks with incomparable grace. He’s Korea’s poster child, and he beat Junmyeon out of that position by about three hundred thousand votes.

"There were girls after me. Asking for my signature, wanting to take a picture with me, asking about you."

Junmyeon frowns at that. "About me?"

"I can't seem to get rid of you no matter what I do." Minseok lets out an exasperated sigh, and Junmyeon would be offended if he wasn't used to it already. "Just read the email."

Junmyeon looks down at the phone, only to find that the screen had gone dark. "What's your passcode?"

"It's your birthday." Minseok gives him a look that says, I thought you knew that, but Junmyeon hadn't. Last time, the passcode had been the last four digits of Minseok's social security number. There's probably a pattern to Minseok's unpredictability, but Junmyeon hasn't figured it out yet.

(Just like he hasn't figured out why his pulse spikes up so much around Minseok sometimes. But that's probably because of the fondness and from standing so close to his idol. After all, he is a self-proclaimed fan of Minseok.)

The lock screen and home screen pictures on Minseok's phone are both fascinating in their simplicity, neat black geometric shapes on a plain white background, nothing like the selcas that Junmyeon often uses as his background. Unlike his password, Minseok hasn't changed either one of those pictures since he'd first gotten his phone. Minseok had told Junmyeon once that there was some meaning behind the pictures—and there's always some meaning. Minseok never acts without reason. They're cropped from some picture, but Junmyeon has never figured out what the original picture was.

Minseok's phone unlocks with a click, and it's already on an email that Minseok's mother had forwarded him. The original sender is a director they've both worked with before. Junmyeon skims through the contents of the email quickly before giving Minseok his phone back.

"It sounds like fun." He grins at Minseok, not trying to hide his excitement. The email contained details about a new horror film, where they're both going to be cast as kids that attend a haunted high school. It's going to be his first time acting in a horror movie. He's always wanted to know what went on behind the scenes.

Minseok doesn't look excited at all as he takes his phone back. He has the same impassive expression on his face, an expression that doesn't fit his youthful features but has somehow gained him many fans (nine million, the last time Junmyeon checked) anyway. "I still can't get a job without you, can I?"

Junmyeon grins wider and puts a hand on Minseok's shoulder, knowing that the touch will annoy the elder. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"For you, maybe." Minseok shifts away a little and bends slightly so Junmyeon's hand slips off his shoulder. "Come on, let's get back."

They walk back to the school together, but they're surrounded by a crowd before they even make it to the school gates. Most of them are girls, trying to talk to Minseok, their phones out to take pictures. Minseok looks straight ahead, inching forward slowly, but Junmyeon can feel the stiffness of his posture from where they're pressed together from shoulder to elbow. These are times that Minseok admits hating. He complains that the benefits that come with being a celebrity isn't worthwhile compared to the unnecessary attention he receives. He’s even thought of asking some bodyguards to accompany him to school to fend off the crowds so they can't touch him.

But Junmyeon can't say that he minds this. He smiles politely at those around him, even pausing to take a few pictures with some of the girls, ignoring Minseok's hiss of, "Are you crazy?"

"It's not that bad," Junmyeon says.

"It is when you have to deal with this every day," Minseok snaps back, voice quiet but b with rage. 

Maybe that's true, so Junmyeon doesn't argue back. He never wins any arguments with Minseok anyway. He doesn't mind the attention, but he doesn't have to deal with it as much as Minseok does.

The moment they get into the school gates, Minseok moves away from him. He slips inside the school, returning to his own friends without a goodbye or even a backward glance. But that's okay. That's just the way Minseok is.

 

 

It's funny, this whole Xiuho thing. It had started back when they were kids, maybe when Junmyeon was eleven. That had been the first time he'd been given an important role in a movie, rather than the young son of a married couple or something. He had costarred with Minseok, and that one movie had started everything.

It was more of a fun project than anything, really. No more than seventy five minutes long, in a school setting with minimum special effects. It had been a low budget film about young kids in school, done by a new director. The pay was pretty low, and everything was low quality in general, but somehow, it had gone really well.

The casting had been simple, too. Junmyeon had played a character by the name of Suho in the movie, and Minseok had played Xiumin. Somehow, those names had stuck, and sometimes, Junmyeon still meets fans who refer to him as Suho rather than his actual name.

Junmyeon still remembers those days clearly. He'd been nervous at first, unused to having so many lines and being around other kids at a set. But it had been easy fitting in.

Because Luhan had been there. Charming, energetic Luhan, who was actually from Beijing and spoke Korean with a soft accent. Minseok and Junmyeon had been the stars of the movie, but it was Luhan who had made the whole thing work.

But Luhan had left to go back to Beijing almost immediately after the movie had finished filming. He needed to go back to school, since school calendars were different in China and Korea, so he never got to take part in the actual promotions around the movie.

That meant the marketing technique, so to speak, had been changed from Xiuhan to Xiuho.

Xiuho wasn’t nearly as real, though. Junmyeon has watched the movie before, he's seen the behind the scenes videos that were later released, and they all confirm his memory.

They had been kids then, so they would often joke around, making the director annoyed but still somewhat amused when they had to do the same scenes five or ten times over. Sometimes, they would forget their lines, and the scripts would be hidden in clever areas: under their chairs, between the pages of their books that they used as props, or on the bookshelves behind them.

Luhan had never studied Korean formally before participating in the movie. He could speak it well enough, had lived in Korea for about two years back when he was about five years old, but his Korean wasn't perfect. Sometimes, he would forget his lines and make something up, a string of syllables that made them all laugh. Even when Luhan messed up, no one got angry because you just couldn't get angry at Luhan.

Especially not Minseok. Minseok had been in the entertainment industry probably longer than Junmyeon, and he was a stunning actor, to say the least. He could conjure tears at will, change from ice cold to invitingly warm in the blink of an eye. He also had the haughty air of a stereotypical child actor, and he knew enough that there weren’t many people he looked up to. But even Minseok couldn't resist Luhan's charms. When Luhan messed up, Minseok probably laughed the loudest of them all. It was oddly fascinating to see how quickly his features would dissolve from a harsh scowl to bright smiles.

So although Minseok and Junmyeon were the costars in the movie, no one could deny that Minseok and Luhan were much, much closer. Minseok leaned his head on Luhan's shoulder, let Luhan drape an arm around him during breaks. Yet in all the years that Junmyeon has known Minseok, Minseok has never willingly initiated any skin contact.

But somehow, despite this, Xiuho had caught on quickly. To this day, there aren't many mentions of Junmyeon without Minseok, and vice versa. Junmyeon knows that Minseok resents this, hates how closely their names are tied just because of that one movie.

Most of it had been scripted, anyway. The times during the movie when they would touch each other, when they would look at each other and smile. They weren't even friends in real life.

And Minseok never lets Junmyeon forget that.

"You're a coworker," he had told Junmyeon before, voice cold and not fitting at all with his childlike features. "That's it."

That's all Junmyeon ever was to Minseok. But Luhan... Minseok still texts him sometimes, and Junmyeon often sees his name pop up on the screen of Minseok's phone, sees Minseok smiling down at the screen, and he knows that there's only one person who can make Minseok smile like that.

And it's not Junmyeon. So while they smile politely at the mentions of Xiuho, while they pretend they're close friends onstage, and sometimes even offstage because there are still people watching them at school, they're not really friends.

It's almost like a ship, but they're still young, so no one really takes it seriously. Junmyeon is almost grateful for that. Sure, Minseok leans close to Junmyeon for the cameras, links their hands together and bends a little too close to whisper sometimes.

But the moment the curtains close and the cameras are gone, their hands are parted.

They aren't friends, and yet Junmyeon wants more.

 

 

"Sit still," the makeup artist (Junmyeon didn't get a chance to read her name tag) says.

That only makes Junmyeon want to squirm in his seat even more. He hates this time the most, when he has to sit perfectly still and try not to flinch at the soft makeup brushes applying foundation over his face. He can't open his eyes, can't sneeze, can't even breathe too deeply because they don't have time to waste. Everyone wants this done as quickly as possible.

"You're still moving." Junmyeon recognizes Minseok's voice, and it drifts closer until Minseok is standing right next to him. He takes Junmyeon's hand, and Junmyeon almost does jump this time. The action had caught him by surprise. He hadn't even seen it coming, both literally and not. "This is Junmyeon, and he's getting his makeup done." That's Minseok's onstage voice, serious but warm, and Junmyeon tries to ignore the weird twinge in his chest. Of course it's for the cameras. It's always for the cameras.

Then Minseok is walking away, his fingers slipping from Junmyeon's, and Junmyeon doesn't try to make him stay. "We're here filming Scream School, and it's our first horror film. I'm really excited, but let's ask how Junmyeon feels when his makeup's done, okay?"

After several more long minutes, the makeup artist declares Junmyeon done. Junmyeon inspects himself in the mirror and playfully makes a scary face. They're only filming the introduction scene today, so he doesn't have on scary makeup yet, but he thinks his scary face looks pretty convincing.

"Come on, let's take a picture," Minseok says, dragging a chair over to sit next to Junmyeon. "Put this on." He grabs two masks from the counter, handing one to Junmyeon and taking the other for himself. Then he positions the camera, whispering, "Three... two... one..." before taking the picture. He moves away quickly almost as soon as the picture is taken.

It'll probably be uploaded on their social media accounts sometime by the staff that manages their accounts, since they're still considered minors. It will all be part of the promotions for this movie, and it will more than likely bring about another jump in Xiuho mentions on fan pages.

"Do you ship Xiuho?" a fan had asked Junmyeon before. That had been the most amusing question he's ever received, and he's heard questions like, "When's the last time you ate ramyeon?" or "How old do you want to be when you get married?"

Junmyeon remembers smiling and shrugging, replying, "Everyone ships Xiuho."

But that's not true, and he knows it isn't true. He knows that Minseok definitely doesn't. That Minseok cringes at any mention of Xiuho offstage. That he hates depending on Junmyeon just so that people will recognize him. That he just sees Junmyeon as a nuisance, at best an asset in his career.

Sometimes it hurts, knowing that while he looks up to Minseok, Minseok will never see him the same way. By now, though, Junmyeon is nearly used to it. 

 

 

It's a known fact that Minseok probably receives the most love letters, confessions, and chocolates out of all the guys in the school. It's also a known fact that Minseok never accepts any of them.

He's the kind to take the letter or chocolate, walk around the corner, and calmly toss them in the trash. "I barely have time to study and act. I don't have enough time to even look at girls," he'd said before at an interview. He had been tired then, the makeup doing nothing to hide the gauntness in his cheekbones. It was the first time Junmyeon had seen him so close to losing his temper onstage. "Maybe in ten years, I'll give it some serious consideration. But for now, I'd like to concentrate on my studies and acting." It had been just barely short of outright rudeness, the impatience clear in Minseok's clipped tone and the tightness of his lips, but if anything, those words had earned him more respect from his fans.

"He sets a good example for young kids," Junmyeon remembers reading on one of the comments.

But Junmyeon isn't like that. He doesn't accept and discard concessions without a backwards glance. And it's not like Junmyeon doesn't receive any. Granted, they're not as numerous as Minseok's. But he still respects anyone who has enough courage to give him something.

Because he isn't sure he'll ever have that amount of courage to confess.

It's a carefree afternoon, when Junmyeon, for once, doesn't have to rush back home and then rush to the site for the filming, that he receives a love letter. The girl gives it to him outside the school gates, a small, shy smile on her face. Junmyeon accepts the letter with a returning smile of his own, and assures her that he'll read it before she rushes off.

"What is that?" Minseok's voice startles Junmyeon, and he looks to the side to see Minseok standing right next to him. "Is that..."

"It's nothing," Junmyeon says quickly, trying to hide the letter behind his back.

But Minseok is quicker, and he snatches the letter from Junmyeon's hands, holding it out of his reach. "A love letter? Really?" Minseok then reads the entire letter aloud, the small, mocking smile on his face showing what he thinks about the letter. "Wow, I can't believe this." Minseok folds it messily and makes to tear it up, but Junmyeon stops him before he can.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting rid of this." Minseok looks faintly puzzled. "What? You're not actually going to keep this, are you?"

Junmyeon pulls the paper out of Miok's hands and smoothes the wrinkles. "No. I'm going to give it back to the girl."

"Why? Are you actually going to accept it?"

"No, but if I'm going to reject her, I'm going to be nice for it." Junmyeon takes a deep breath and slips the letter into his backpack, between the pages of his notebook. "She must have spent a lot of time planning and writing this. I'm going to respect that."

"Respect what? The time that she wasted when she should have been studying?"

'Why is everything so black and white for you?' Junmyeon wants to snap back, but he doesn't. Because he's an actor as well, and he knows how much emotion he should express. Instead, he calmly replies, "I respect that she had enough courage to give this to me at all. That even though she knew that I probably wouldn't accept it, she still gave it to me. And that takes courage." Junmyeon pauses. "And I'm not completely heartless, unlike certain people."

Minseok doesn't react at that, doesn't even blink, and Junmyeon walks past him without looking back. This is the first time that he's actually gotten the last word on one of their arguments, the first time that he'd rendered Minseok speechless. But he's still angry.

Minseok never had to do anything to earn all those fans. He only had to memorize scripts and perform them with the talent in acting that he was blessed with. And no matter how hard Junmyeon tries, he can never quite compare with Minseok. To Junmyeon, each one of his fans is precious, and he always tries to spare them a smile, a handshake, or a few words whenever he can. Yet somehow, Minseok's cold image is more alluring, even when he clearly doesn't care at all.

So maybe Junmyeon has gotten used to the way Minseok acts, but it doesn't mean that it doesn’t bother him.

 

 

Junmyeon was thirteen when he came out to his family members.

It had been virtually unplanned, occurring right before dinner on a weekday. His father was still taking off his jacket and taking his phone, wallet, and keys out of his pockets. His mother was still arranging the utensils and dishes of food. Junmyeon had been taking his homework off of the dining room table when the conversation was brought up.

“Junmyeon, you have to eat more,” his mother said, putting bowls of still-steaming rice on the table. “You need to get more food and rest these days, especially with that new movie coming up.”

Junmyeon nodded, sitting down in his place at the dining room table.

“Aren’t you going to be working with a girl your age this time?” his father asked, sitting down at his place and picking up his chopsticks.

“There are going to be rumors,” Junmyeon’s mother said. “But don’t mind them, okay? She is really pretty, though,” she added, before anyone could respond to her previous statement.

“You don’t have to worry,” Junmyeon said, pushing his bowl forward so his father could give him some of the beans. “I’m not interested in her. I’m gay.” The words sounded foreign to his tongue, the syllables twisting even as he spoke them aloud. He hadn’t quite anticipated the silence that followed his words, the way his father’s chopsticks stopped in midair, his mother’s silence that he knew would be followed by something, the block of tension that had filled up the room and wasn’t allowing him to breathe.

“Well, good for you,” his father said, and his chopsticks were moving again. They picked up a chicken leg, and it was like the chopsticks were some kind of wand that had magically made the tension disappear from the room.

“Is there someone you like?” his mother asked, her eyes meeting his across the table. There was some disbelief in her features, but at least there wasn’t outright anger, disgust.

Junmyeon looked back down at his bowl. He hadn't meant to say it aloud, but it was bound to slip out sooner or later. It hadn't gone as badly as he could have, but he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. They were his parents, after all. They wouldn’t turn their backs on him just because of one little thing. “No, there’s no one.”

“So how can you be sure?” Her tone was more curious, like she was interrogating Junmyeon about his day at school, but Junmyeon’s father waved his chopsticks in her direction.

“Let the boy eat. You can talk to him afterwards.”

Junmyeon managed to finish his food, although the uneasiness in his stomach didn’t quite fade away. After dinner, his mother stopped him before he could escape the room and finish his homework.

“Junmyeon, can you help me with the dishes?”

She rarely made this request anymore, but Junmyeon knew why she asked him now. Swallowing his nervousness, he replied with, “Okay, Mom,” and followed her into the kitchen.

She didn’t talk to him as she the water from the sink, testing it until she deemed it warm enough. Junmyeon rinsed the dishes before handing them over to her, and his mother washed them twice thoroughly with soap. It wasn’t until she finished washing them and Junmyeon was drying the dishes so she could put them into the cabinet that she finally spoke.

“It’s Minseok, isn’t it?”

Her words startled Junmyeon, and it took him a moment to understand the context. He swallowed, hesitating as he finished drying another dish. “Yeah.” In the end, he couldn’t lie, but it still felt unnatural, admitting something that he hadn't ever admitted to himself, even in his own thoughts.

To his surprise, she turned to face him and embraced him, hugging him tightly even though he was still holding a dishrag in one of his hands. Junmyeon put the rag down and hugged her back, closing his eyes as he breathed in her familiar scent. He was as tall as her now, and it wouldn’t be long before he passed her height. It was a subtle reminder of how quickly time had passed, and how little time he spent with his own family between studying and acting.

“You can like whoever you want,” his mother said when they separated. “Just be careful, okay? Not everyone’s going to be understanding.”

Junmyeon nodded. “I know.” And he did know. He heard the hateful rumors passed around in school, had picked up on what was considered wrong by society. He knew that he had a career to think of, that he couldn’t ever let this secret slip in public because there would always be so many people watching and listening. He knew that while his parents could love him unconditionally, no one else could do the same.

“And Minseok… he’s a good kid.” There was a faint smile on his mother’s face, and Junmyeon unconsciously let out a sigh of relief. There was nothing like, “It’s because you guys have been spending too much time together and you shouldn’t see him that much,” or “He didn’t do anything to you, did he?” Even Junmyeon couldn’t really explain it—but he knew. And his mom wasn’t asking for an explanation, anyway. “Have you told him yet?”

Junmyeon shook his head. He couldn’t. If Minseok didn’t like him even as a friend, how could he possibly like Junmyeon—like that? It was something that not even his own parents knew, and maybe that was an even deeper secret. That Minseok, no matter how he acted before others, loathed Junmyeon. He’d never known the reason, but he’d accepted the fact as one of nature’s mysteries. Everything that Junmyeon did seemed to annoy Minseok.

“Good. Don’t tell him yet. You still have your career to think of. But one day.” His mother turned to face him when she put the last dish into the cabinet. “Maybe in a few years, when you’re sure of your feelings, when you know that it’s worth the risk, then you should tell him. Okay?”

It wasn’t much to ask, and Junmyeon nodded, stepping closer to hug his mother again. “Thanks, mom.”

“As long as you’re happy, Junmyeon,” she said, patting his back comfortingly like she would when he was still a child and had nightmares that kept him awake long into the night.

The topic was never brought it up again, and to Junmyeon’s relief, they pretended that they didn’t know at all. He had a feeling that his mother had probably told his father, but they didn’t treat Minseok any differently when they saw him again. 

Junmyeon never forgot the warmth of those hugs, or the relief that it was okay. Maybe to the rest of the world, to Minseok, it wasn’t okay, but at least his parents understood.

 

 

Junmyeon isn't used to the spotlight, the screams that greet his presence. He's not an onstage performer, and the feeling of all those eyes on him, just watching, makes him nervous. 

Minseok takes his hand before they go onstage. He doesn't look at Junmyeon, but the message is obvious in the way he squeezes Junmyeon's hand. 'Smile.' And, more forcefully, 'Don't screw this up.'

So Junmyeon smiles as they walk onstage. Minseok lets go of his hand, fingers slipping from Junmyeon's, and he goes up first, Junmyeon following a step behind. The MC introduces them, and Junmyeon tries to make eye contact with the crowd as he smiles. He's not like Minseok; he can't control the crowd with a single look, and he can’t remain completely unaffected by everything. The crowd feels too close, with their loud shouts and bright posters and flashing cameras. They're barely held back by a few security guards and flimsy tape that is already breaking off in certain areas. 

Then the MC is stepping back, and Minseok is introducing the song that they're going to sing. 

They don't do this often because they're actors, not singers. But this publicity is good, and it's not like they sound bad together. Junmyeon looks into Minseok's eyes and breathes in deeply before the music begins. 

It's a simple melody, one that he's practiced with Minseok many times. This isn't even a formal stage, more of a fan meeting than anything, so he pretends that they're in a room together, just the two of them, as Minseok begins to sing. 

And when he finishes his verse, Junmyeon follows with his part. They sing together on the chorus, harmonizing and hitting all of the proper notes. 

After the first few seconds, the stage had faded away from Junmyeon's mind, so he's startled by the applause that follows the end of the song. He smiles for the cameras, lowering the mic to his side and becoming keenly aware of the slight trembling in his knees as the last notes of the song fade away. 

Then the MC is onstage again, smiling as he speaks into the mic. "Thank you for the performance, Minseok and Junmyeon. You know, your fans have a special name for you. Xiuho, I believe?" and there are answering screams to this sentence. 

Junmyeon glances at Minseok out of the corner of his eye, but he makes sure to control his expression. While promoting Xiuho is good, they can't overdo it either. Minseok only nods, saying into his microphone, "Thank you all for your support." 

There are more screams to follow his statement, and Junmyeon bites down on the inside of his cheek. That had been a clever way of dodging around the MC's obvious implications. 

"We have a few questions for you," the MC says. He's holding a few cards in one hand. "So the first question is... Can you tell us about the movie that you two have been filming?" 

Minseok glances at Junmyeon briefly before raising the mic to answer. "It's going to be a horror movie. We're nearly done filming." 

"No spoilers?" the MC presses, clearly intending to get more information, but Minseok just smiles. 

"Maybe once the movie's released." 

They take turns in answering the rest of the questions, turning them away with a few joking words when the questions get too personal. More details about the movie or probing questions about their personal lives—those seem to be favorites, but those are also the very questions that they're told not to answer, the questions that they're used to dodging by now. 

It's slightly uncomfortable standing and answering questions while under the scrutiny of so many onlookers, but this Junmyeon is more used to. He knows how to use his words to charm the crowd, knows what to say to evoke a reaction, knows the effect a small, shy smile can have on his words. This is going to be a short interview. It is a school night, after all. 

"Are you two going to be in another project together soon?" 

It's Minseok's turn to answer this one, but he hesitates in bringing the mic to his lips. "Maybe. We've done a lot of projects together before. And the school year is getting busier. It's my last year in school, and I have to take my college entrance exams, so..."

"Yes, studies always come first," the MC says, nodding understandingly. 

"I feel like it's time that we branched out," Minseok continues, and Junmyeon can't stop himself from turning to look at him. This isn't part of the script. What is Minseok doing? "So probably not," Minseok concludes, lowering his mic again. 

The MC looks briefly thrown off by this as well, but he doesn't press. Instead, he turns back to the crowd. "Let's thank Minseok and Junmyeon for their time here." 

Before Junmyeon walks offstage, he catches sight of a sign that reads "Xiuho" in glowing neon letters. He's seen those signs before, often, but he can't help thinking that soon, he won't see them anymore. There is truth in Minseok's words. When he leaves for college, they probably won't be able to do any future movies or fan meetings together anymore. Maybe that's all their career together was—a handy coincidence, something that can easily be separated. 

It's not like their fans want them to separate, though. Even the MCs like Xiuho, if only because such mentions are bound to get them more views, more likes on their shows. And Junmyeon doesn't want it to end, either. There's easy familiarity in Minseok. He knows that they can work together, and there's, at the very least, comfort in that. 

If love was a democracy, life would be so much easier. 

 

 

Junmyeon feels miserable. He's been running a high fever all last night, and he'd thrown up first thing this morning. His mother had been taking care of him since morning, feeding him soup and awful tasting medicines and water, helping him to the restroom and even giving him his laptop so he’d have something to do despite being stuck in bed all day.

He falls asleep sometime after lunch, and when he wakes up again, the screen of his phone tells him that it’s already three in the afternoon.

The house is oddly quiet. There’s no response when he calls out, “Mom?” His voice comes out hoarse and scratchy, and he winces as he walks towards the kitchen for a glass of water. His fever has mostly gone down now, from what he can tell, but his throat still feels very uncomfortable. His voice isn’t strong enough, and there’s no way he can participate in the filming that was supposed to occur today. He hopes that his parents have already sorted that out. They may have to do stay longer some days to make those scenes up, and he’ll have extra schoolwork to finish when he gets back to school tomorrow.

Junmyeon is still deep in his thoughts and deadlines when he walks into the kitchen, so he nearly jumps from fright when he sees Minseok sitting there, doing his homework and acting like it’s perfectly normal for him to be over at Junmyeon’s house. Like he doesn’t need to be anywhere else, like he’s comfortable where he is now.

“What are you doing here?” Junmyeon asks, walking past Minseok to get a cup from a cabinet.

Minseok looks up, his expression infuriatingly calm. “Your mom told me that you were sick. She had to go to work, so I told her I’d come over.”

There’s a pitcher of recently boiled water, still warm to the touch, and Junmyeon pours some into his cup. “You don’t have to. I’m fine on my own.”

Minseok shrugs, spinning his pencil in one hand as he looks back down at his work. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You can go, if you want.” Junmyeon sits down across from Minseok at the table and takes his phone out. He knows that Minseok doesn’t want to spend any more time with him than strictly necessary. “I’ll tell my mom that something came up.”

“I can do my homework here,” Minseok says, his voice firm. “I’m probably going to eat dinner here as well. My parents already know.” He pauses before asking, “Are you feeling better now?”

Junmyeon hums softly in response, opening one of his social media apps.

“You should eat more. You haven’t been eating a lot lately.” Minseok stands up. “I’ll go make something…”

“No.” Junmyeon’s voice is unexpectedly harsh, and when Minseok turns to look at him with wide eyes, he quickly amends his previous statement. “I mean… I’m not really hungry right now. You should do your homework. I won’t bother you.”

“Okay. Tell me if you’re hungry.” Minseok doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he sits down again and resumes his work.

Minseok’s behavior is weird, but Junmyeon doesn’t question it. It’s probably just because Minseok feels obligated to keep his side of the deal when Junmyeon’s parents had asked him to watch Junmyeon for them. Maybe there was even money involved.

They sit in silence for the next few hours. Minseok finishes his homework, pencil scratching on paper as he sets notebook after notebook aside the moment he’s done with one subject. Junmyeon mostly checks his Weibo account, checking on Luhan’s activities and squinting at the jumble of foreign characters on his screen.

By the time it turns seven, Minseok has finished his work. He puts his pencil down and stretches his arms. “Are your parents going to be back soon?”

“My dad doesn’t usually return until eight. My mom gets back sooner, but she might take longer today because she wasn’t at work this morning.” Junmyeon hesitates, turning his phone off and setting it down at the table. “You can go home now, if you want. I’m going to go to bed.”

He gets up, but Minseok catches his wrist before he can walk away. “Aren’t you going to eat dinner?"

“I’m not that hungry,” Junmyeon says. He’s mostly tired now, and his eyes kind of hurt from constantly staring at foreign characters on his phone screen.

“Sit down. You have to eat something. You’ll get worse if you don’t.” Minseok doesn’t let go of Junmyeon’s wrist until the younger sits down again. He opens the refrigerator, and takes out a few plates of leftovers. “The fans are all saying that you’re getting too skinny.” Minseok tosses the clear plastic wrap around the dishes into the trash and heats one of them in the microwave.

“You never cared about what the fans say,” Junmyeon says, pressing his cheek against the smooth wood of the kitchen table. Minseok turns his head to look at him, and it might be the lighting, but there seems to be a small frown on his face. It’s probably his default expression around Junmyeon, but Junmyeon stops talking anyway.

This is why, although they aren’t exactly friends, they rarely get into fights. Junmyeon reads too much into the slightest of Minseok’s expressions, and he’s careful not to do anything that will cause the older boy to be even more annoyed at him. Except for when he’s acting, Minseok’s facial expressions are usually all the same: a calm, nearly impassive look. But Junmyeon observes the direction his eyes are looking, the way he moves his fingers—every little detail—and draws an often far-fetched conclusion.

He observes Minseok so much, in fact, that he could probably write a whole book on Minseok’s small quirks. And he knows about three million others who would be glad to read such a book. It doesn’t mean he’s any closer to really understanding Minseok, though.

They don’t talk for the rest of dinner, and Junmyeon mostly looks down at his plate as he eats. He finishes quickly and sets his chopsticks down on the table. Minseok looks up as he does so.

“You should eat more. That was only half a bowl of rice,” he says, but Junmyeon shakes his head.

“I’m full. I’ll go to bed first. Don’t do the dishes,” he adds, putting his bowl in the sink. “My mom will do that when she gets back.”

“Don’t forget to take your medicine!” Minseok calls after him, and Junmyeon replies with an, “I know!” over his shoulder.

His mother had written out specific instructions on a small sheet of paper, and she had arranged all of the pill bottles on Junmyeon’ desk. When he finishes taking the medicine and preparing for bed, he gets into his bed.

He’s asleep faster than he’d expected. At one point, he hears some movement near him, but he’s too tired to open his eyes and see who it is. When he wakes up the next morning, there’s a note on his desk.

I hope you’re feeling better. The director says we’ll have to make up the scenes you missed out on today.

 

 

Minseok has the kind of charm that slowly grows on you. It’s like, the more you look at him, the less you can look away.

The first time he had been introduced to his costars during his first movie with Minseok, the one who had left Junmyeon with the greatest impression had actually been Luhan.

Luhan possesses a lot of natural charm, the kind that anyone would love. Junmyeon remembers his eyes the most—bright and expressive, the kind that draws you in and binds you under a spell. It hadn’t mattered that Luhan’s Korean wasn’t as proficient as the others’; his laugh was every bit as loud, and his smile was every bit as bright.

So Junmyeon isn’t sure when he started noticing Minseok so much. It certainly hadn’t been during their first movie. It’s probably because of the amount of time they’d spent together over the years, the way that Minseok’s made a home in Junmyeon’s heart the same way he’d done in about nine million other fans.

It had probably happened when Junmyeon was twelve. He remembers that night clearly. It had been during summer break, and they’d all gone on another island to film the movie. It was only a week’s stay, but it had felt exciting nonetheless.

His mother had gone with him, insisting that he was too young to go by himself, but Minseok had gone alone. There were always subtle reminders like that: that because Minseok was two years older than Junmyeon, he was given many privileges that Junmyeon shouldn’t even ask for.

Minseok shared a room with his manager, but their rooms were right next to each other. Junmyeon had stepped out onto the balcony one night to observe the moon, while his mother was still busy on her laptop. He hadn’t expected Minseok to be there as well.

Minseok was singing a song, his voice soft in the dark night. They were close enough that Junmyeon could hear each syllable. It almost felt like Junmyeon was intruding, and he was planning to go back into his room when Minseok turned his head slightly and saw Junmyeon.

Junmyeon held his breath, expecting Minseok to snap at him or turn away and go inside. But instead, Minseok just continued singing as he stared at him, and Junmyeon couldn’t bring himself to look away.

It was a simple love song, light and almost playful. Minseok was probably only teasing him, even if his face was dead serious. But all Junmyeon could think about, really, was Minseok’s voice and the song he was singing. He’d never heard Minseok sing before that. His voice was beautiful, clear and still unchanged so that he could effortlessly hit the high notes.

 

I’m singing a song for you.
Can you hear my song?
I love you, I love you.
Can you hear my words?
Even if the world ends, my song will last forever. 

 

Minseok didn’t stop after he’d finished the song; instead, he sang several more, still staring at Junmyeon. Junmyeon wasn’t sure how long had passed. It was like he’d been stuck in some kind of trance, and Minseok really wasn’t helping. The only light came from within the hotel rooms, but there was enough to illuminate Minseok’s face—for Junmyeon to know that Minseok was staring at him.

Maybe that night was the first time Junmyeon had really noticed Minseok, and maybe that night was when Junmyeon had first started liking Minseok.

 

 

Right after school let out, Junmyeon and Minseok were taken to a remote location to film another part of the movie. It’s late by the time they finish, and Junmyeon’s probably going to have to stay up until sunrise if he wants to finish all of his homework in time. He’s leaning against the car window, trying to doze off. He needs every minute of sleep he’s going to get, but the car is just extremely uncomfortable. When he tries to put his head on his arm, his arm begins to turn numb.

Junmyeon sits up straight, shaking his arm to try to get rid of the tingling feeling creeping up his skin. Minseok looks up from his phone screen.

“Do you want a pillow or something?”

A pillow would be really nice, but Junmyeon shakes his head and leans back in his seat. “I’m probably not going to be able to sleep anyway.”

He expects Minseok to put on his earphones to listen to music and ignore Junmyeon—the way he usually does when they’re in the same car—but instead, Minseok holds out his phone to him. “Here. Luhan’s calling.”

Junmyeon looks at Minseok curiously, but when Minseok doesn’t explain, he takes his phone and answers the call. “Hello?” he says cautiously into the receiver.

“You’re not Minseok,” the person on the other end says, and it sounds so much like Luhan that Junmyeon can’t help smiling, despite how tired he was.

“I’m not. Minseok’s right next to me.” Junmyeon hesitates, turning his head to look at Minseok, who stares right back at him. “Did you… want to talk to him?”

“No! No, don’t give him the phone,” Luhan says, sounding so panicked that Junmyeon laughs a little. “He’s the only Korean friend I talk to these days,” Luhan continues, and there’s a slight pout in his voice. It’s ridiculous because they’re not kids anymore, and grown men don’t pout, but somehow, it works on Luhan. Honestly, Luhan could get away with anything. “Is my Korean getting worse? I have to talk to the walls sometimes to make sure my pronunciation is still okay. My dog thinks I’m crazy.”

“Your pronunciation’s fine,” Junmyeon says. It’s not perfect, but it’s understandable. Although he kind of doubts that Luhan actually meant the word dog, because the last time he checked, Luhan didn’t have a dog.

“That’s good. So are you guys returning home from filming?”

“Yeah.” Junmyeon rubs his palm across the coarse fabric of his jeans. “It’s been a long day."

Luhan makes a sympathetic noise on the other end. “It must be hard for Minseok. We’re both taking our college entrance exams this year. Tell him not to stress himself out and get some rest, okay?”

“Okay,” Junmyeon says, although he doubts he’ll actually say those words. Minseok would probably give him his are you trying to boss me aroundlook, which isn’t that different from his usual who do you think you are look, except his eyes are a millimeter wider.

“And you too,” Luhan adds. “Good luck on your movie. I saw your show not long ago—the one where you did the duet with Minseok? It was really good.”

“Thanks.”

“There were so many Xiuho posts on Weibo.” Luhan laughs softly, the sound oddly comforting. “I put one on my Weibo account, and my manager asked me what it was. He used an online translating thing, and he asked me why I was talking about protecting butterflies.”

Junmyeon smiles, and stifles a yawn with the back of his hand. It’s already past ten, and they’re still about an hour from home. “Do you want to talk to Minseok?”

“Sure.”

Junmyeon hands the phone over to Minseok, and it’s obvious how much Minseok wants to talk to Luhan. It kind of makes him wonder why Minseok had handed him the phone in the first place. He and Luhan text each other occasionally, but they haven’t talked in a long time because long distance calls are very expensive.

“Hey, Luhan.” The nearby streetlights illuminate the small smile on Minseok’s face—a special, soft smile, one that Minseok seems to reserve for Luhan only. It’s not the confident, wide smile that he has for the cameras, but it’s also not the tight, forced smile that he flashes at Junmyeon sometimes.

Junmyeon looks away. He feels like he’s intruding on something, even though he can’t hear the other end of the conversation. Minseok only talks for a few minutes before he hangs up, and the same silence falls over the car again.

It feels colder now. Junmyeon’s only wearing a short-sleeved shirt, so it makes him shiver a little. He reaches up an arm to gauge where the cold air is coming from. Minseok’s eyes follow his movements.

“Are you cold?”

Junmyeon nods. “A little.”

“Here.” Minseok reaches his arm out as well, and their fingers brush when Minseok slides the air vent closed.

It’s slightly better, now that the cold air isn’t blowing directly on him. Junmyeon puts his hands on his arms and leans his head back against the headrest. It’s an uncomfortable position, and it stretches his neck, but it’s still the best option that he has right now. Yet even after a few minutes of closing his eyes, he doesn’t fall asleep. When he opens his eyes again, the first thing he sees is the clock on the dashboard, informing him with glowing green numbers that only five minutes have passed. He stares despairingly at the numbers, hoping that he’ll fall asleep just looking at them.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” It’s not phrased as a question. Minseok looks down at Junmyeon, their faces surprisingly close. There are only two adjacent seats in the middle row of the van, so it’s not like they’re that far away. But Junmyeon is still startled by how close Minseok is, so he only stares wordlessly back. Minseok takes Junmyeon’s hand and pulls him closer, letting Junmyeon’s head fall on his shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

Junmyeon’s frozen, unsure what to think about this action, but Minseok just lets go of his hand and returns his attention to his phone, where he’s sending Luhan many stickers on Wechat. Minseok lets go of his hand, but he doesn’t push Junmyeon away. Minseok had been the one to initiate this, Junmyeon reminds himself, so he closes his eyes. Minseok’s shoulder is far more comfortable than any of the car’s surfaces, anyway. And this close, he can feel Minseok’s every breath, and each time he breathes in, the only thing he can smell is Minseok’s shampoo. It’s a little overwhelming, but at the same time, it’s nice. Minseok’s sweater is made of really soft material, and Junmyeon presses his cheek against it. Even when the car passes over a bump, jostling both of them, Minseok doesn’t complain when Junmyeon’s chin knocks against his shoulder.

It can’t be comfortable for Minseok, since Junmyeon’s head isn’t exactly weightless. And it’s not really comfortable for Junmyeon, either, since he has to bend so far down. But at the same time, Junmyeon wouldn’t trade this position for anything else.

There are so many sides of Minseok, and just when Junmyeon thinks he can comfortably stash Minseok into a box and put a label on him, Minseok does something completely unexpected. This is one of those times, when Minseok acts like an older brother. That’s always been his attitude towards Junmyeon. He’d ignore Junmyeon, for the most part, but every so often, like when they were surrounded by fans, he’d reach out for Junmyeon—a hand within Junmyeon’s, a shoulder for him to lean on, a smile that was directed at Junmyeon.

Most of Junmyeon’s free time is spent analyzing Minseok, picking apart his every action to find his motive. But right now, Junmyeon’s too tired to try to analyze what Minseok is thinking. Instead, he falls asleep on Minseok’s shoulder.

 

 

When they finish filming the movie, they’re granted a month’s break. It gives Junmyeon enough time to catch up on his schoolwork and even start preparing for his final exams. Finals are still a few months away, but it’s never too early. His midterms hadn't gone too well, but maybe with the finals, he can actually make top ten in his class.

He doesn’t see Minseok much during that time. They don’t see each other much outside of their jobs together, and that’s understandable. They’re two years apart, and they have separate groups of friends. Junmyeon texts Minseok from time to time with random stickers he’d downloaded. Sometimes, Minseok responds, and other times, only the ‘read’ notification that pops up under Junmyeon’s message tells him he’s seen it. Other than chance meetings at school, Junmyeon doesn’t try to meet up with Minseok. He knows that this is the elder’s last year in high school, and that there must be a lot of pressure on him to do well on his finals.

Of course, they can’t have too long of a break. Once the movie has been edited, the promotions will begin. So about a month afterwards, they’re told that they’re going to go on a tour to China.

It’s only a weekend long, but it’s still something to be excited about. They’re going to Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou. They’re not performing a song this time, to Junmyeon’s relief. He’s not that confident singing in Korean, but there’s no way he could ever pronounce Chinese words in a song. It’s going to be a fan meeting, mostly, and interviews.

They leave before school ends, before the class president has a chance to pass out the homework. Nevertheless, when they get into the car, Minseok has a stack of books in his arms.

“I’m a third year,” he reminds Junmyeon, seeing Junmyeon’s curious glance. “I can’t be as relaxed as you.”

It’s not like it’s easy for Junmyeon, either, balancing work and school, but he doesn’t argue. It probably is harder, since so much emphasis is placed upon third years’ finals. After all, it’s the test that would determine their future.

Minseok slips on his earphones and opens one of his textbooks. Junmyeon looks out the window until they reach the airport.

There’s not much of a crowd when they reach the airport. Most of the city is still at work or school, but there are still a few who recognize them and begin to cluster around them, taking pictures and trying to talk to them.

Their manager rushes them along. Their plane is going to board soon, and they don’t have much time to spare.

They sit in adjourning seats on the plane, but once again, Minseok opens his textbook and ignores Junmyeon. Minseok is even sitting in the window seat, so Junmyeon starts reading one of the magazines on the plane for distraction as the plane prepares for takeoff. It’s only when the flight attendant comes around with drinks and refreshments that Junmyeon nudges Minseok.

Minseok takes off his earphones, letting them hang around his neck as he accepts the drink with a soft word of, “Thanks.”

Junmyeon takes a sip of his drink before turning to Minseok. “Are we going to visit Luhan?”

Minseok shakes his head. “We won’t have time. We’re staying in Beijing for just tonight.”

They have time to eat after the plane lands before the interview, but once the interview is finished, it’s going to be late at night. The following morning, they’re going to take a train to Shanghai.

“We should have flown to Shanghai instead,” Junmyeon says, putting his magazine back in the seat pocket in front of him. “It would have saved us time.”

Minseok looks over at him over the rim of his cup, his eyelids lowered enough that his eyelashes were nearly touching his cheeks. It’s vaguely distracting. “You don’t like being on planes,” he says, after he puts his cup down.

“They’re just making us go on a train because it’s cheaper,” Junmyeon says, looking away. But it’s true. He doesn’t like the feeling of planes, doesn’t like the rush at take-off, the swaying feeling even when the plane is supposedly stable, or the ear-crushing pressure when the plane is descending. It always feels like he’s talking too loud when he’s on a plane, and after he’s off the plane, there’s still a ringing sound in his ears. He’d mentioned this to Minseok once, a long time ago, and he hadn't expected the other to remember his words. There are times when he’ll speak to Minseok, and Minseok won’t respond. He’ll think that Minseok hadn't heard his words, but on another date, Minseok will randomly bring up his words again, throwing Junmyeon off track.

But riding the plane with Minseok is easier. Minseok remembers to bring gum, something that Junmyeon always puts on his to-bring list but ends up forgetting. He hands Junmyeon three pieces when the plane begins its descent, and when Junmyeon is chewing ferociously at the gum in an attempt to alleviate the pain in his ears, Minseok takes his hand. It’s a small gesture, but Junmyeon appreciates it nonetheless. As far as he knows, there aren’t any fans on the plane with him, so Minseok isn’t doing this for the cameras.

Before Junmyeon can read too much into the gesture, Minseok’s hand is gone again.

 

 

They share a hotel room in Beijing. It’s a nice hotel and a large room, really, with two queen sized beds. The only problem that Junmyeon can find with the hotel is that the bathroom doesn’t have a bathtub, just a portioned off showering area.

“This is a four star hotel, but it doesn’t have a bathtub?” is the first thing Junmyeon says when they enter into the room.

Minseok glances at him as he sits down on the bed. “Did you want to take a bath?”

“No, but…” Having a bathtub is just a necessary part of every hotel room. Junmyeon begins unpacking his clothes, setting aside his pajamas. “I’m going to shower,” he says, as Minseok turns on the television.

Their show had gone pretty well. It’s Junmyeon’s first time in China, so he had been slightly intimidated by the foreign language and the weird characters. But they had been given translators and all they really needed to do was smile and greet the fans before giving them their signatures. Minseok had been studying Chinese for a few years now, so he’s able to carry a simple conversation in Chinese. But the only time Junmyeon has ever studied Chinese is when he tries to make sense of the complex characters between the Hangul on Luhan’s Weibo posts.

When Junmyeon gets out of the shower, Minseok has the channel set on the Chinese dubbed version of My Love from Another Star.

“Can you understand any of it?” Junmyeon asks, sitting on the bed and trying to towel his hair dry.

“A little. I’m trying to catch the subtitles.” Minseok gets up and walks over to Junmyeon’s bed. “Do you even know how to towel your hair?”

“Not really,” Junmyeon admits, letting Minseok take the towel from his hands. He usually just lets it dry naturally, or, if it’s really late, he’ll use the hair dryer. It’s not that late, though, and he hates using hair dryers, so he thought that he’d try using a towel instead.

Minseok dries Junmyeon’s hair, his movements soothing, while Junmyeon stares at the screen and tries to remember what the characters said during this particular scene.

“I’m going to shower,” Minseok says, and he drops the towel on Junmyeon’s bed as he goes into the shower.

Junmyeon runs a hand through his hair. It’s still slightly wet, but hopefully, it’ll be dry before he goes to sleep. It’s already really late into the night and he’s tired. He can’t sleep yet, though, since Minseok still hasn’t finished showering, so he pulls out his phone and connects with the hotel’s Wi-Fi to send Luhan a text. I’m here in Beijing.

Luhan replies almost immediately. I know, followed by, Do you know what time it is.

Then why are you still awake? Junmyeon replies, and Luhan sends him an emoticon. He still refuses to use the stickers on Wechat, and instead sends Junmyeon simple emoticons.

Junmyeon replies with a dancing sticker. He spends a few minutes bantering playfully with Luhan through text messages, only sending him a ‘Good night’ sticker when Minseok gets out of the shower.

It’s not the first time he and Minseok have shared a room together, but it still feels awkward. Junmyeon follows Minseok’s movements around the room with his eyes, but the words that he wants to say get stuck in his throat. Instead, he gets under his blankets and sets his phone on the counter. Minseok doesn’t say anything, either. He only turns off the television and the lights before getting in bed as well.

There’s a slightly awkward silence, during which Junmyeon has a long debate with himself about whether or not he should say, “Good night,” to Minseok. In the end, he doesn’t, since Minseok seems to be asleep already, judging from his even breathing and his lack of movement. Junmyeon’s scared to move around too much and wake Minseok up, and he feels ridiculously nervous. But he’s also tired from the day’s activities, so sometime between his internal conflicts, he falls asleep.

 

 

They spend Saturday in Shanghai, take a plane to Guangzhou that night, and perform Sunday afternoon. On Saturday night, they’re on a plane back to Korea.

Junmyeon falls asleep before the plane even ascends. He’s really tired, and having three flights in three days is more difficult than it sounds. When he wakes up again, they’re already halfway there, and Minseok is still doing his homework.

“Are you almost done yet?” Junmyeon asks, leaning closer to look over Minseok’s shoulder.

Minseok jumps a little. He’d probably been so immersed in his studies that he hadn't noticed that Junmyeon had woken up. Junmyeon smiles a little. “A few more pages.” He glances up, his forefinger and thumb still holding onto a page to keep his place. “Keep sleeping. We have school tomorrow.”

It’s weird, going from being surrounded by excited fans and feeling like you’re the nation’s prince to sitting in a classroom surrounded by other kids your age. While Junmyeon’s used to it, he still isn’t sure which life is easier.

He presses a hand to the back of his neck. He’d been sleeping at an odd angle, and now it makes him feel slightly sick. The pillows and blankets that the airlines provide don’t really help, and the chairs are too comfortable for his liking. “I’ll be fine.”

But he is tired, and when he ends up yawning several times in a row while trying to play a Tetris game on the individual televisions they’re provided with, Minseok reaches over and turns the screen off despite Junmyeon’s protests.

“Get some sleep,” Minseok says, raising the armrest between them. He tugs on Junmyeon’s arm until Junmyeon’s head falls on Minseok’s shoulder again.

Junmyeon glances up. He can barely see Minseok’s eyes from this angle, but he can see the smooth paleness of his cheeks, the soft pinkness of his mouth. He wants to ask a question, but in the end, he doesn’t. Minseok doesn’t even seem to notice Junmyeon looking at him weirdly. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly as he looks down at his work, and it’s cute, even though it shouldn’t be. Junmyeon closes his eyes, and falls asleep again on Minseok’s shoulder.

When he wakes up again, his ears hurt, and he realizes that the plane has already begun its descent. Junmyeon winces as he looks down at Minseok’s shoulder. Luckily, he hadn't drooled or done something else embarrassing in his sleep, but he does wish that he’d slept through the plane’s landing. It’s his least favorite part in plane rides, only a little worse than the nausea that he usually feels the moment he steps onto a plane.

“Here.” Minseok gives Junmyeon a pack of gum. There are only two pieces left. Junmyeon offers one to Minseok, but Minseok shakes his head. “You’ll need it.”

“You don’t want one?” Junmyeon feels like he’s talking too loudly. He’s not even sure of his own volume right now. He can’t really hear his own voice.

“I’ll be fine,” Minseok says, looking back down at the paper.

Junmyeon chews on one of the pieces of gum, saving the other for when his first piece loses its flavor and when the pressure gets worse. After a while, he notices that Minseok’s clenching and unclenching his jaw. The descent must be bothering him as well, since he’s no longer working on his homework. Instead, he’s staring blankly ahead of him, pencil left on the table.

This time, it’s Junmyeon who reaches over and takes his hand. He squeezes it gently, and offers Minseok an apologetic smile when the older looks over at him.

“We should bring more gum next time,” Junmyeon says.

Minseok smiles back faintly, the expression barely visible in the dim lights. “We should,” he agrees.

Before takeoff, they had all eaten dinner because the flight was somewhat late, and wouldn’t serve dinner. Now, Junmyeon feels his stomach feeling uneasy when the plane unexpectedly tilts in the air. The voice overhead tells them to remain seated because they’ve entered some turbulence, and Junmyeon feels Minseok’s hand tightening around his a little. Junmyeon stares straight ahead, trying to focus on nothing as he continues chewing his gum.

By the time the plane lands, Junmyeon’s stomach is really uncomfortable. Even standing up doesn’t really help. He just needs fresh air, and the moment the passengers are allowed to leave, he nearly runs out of the plane, ignoring Minseok’s cry behind him.

He barely makes it to the bathroom, where he locks himself in one of the stalls and throws up. After a few minutes of just weakly leaning his forehead against the stall’s walls, he stands and flushes it down the toilet. He walks out of the stall and washes his hands, splashing his face with water. The nausea’s mostly gone now. It’s just his ears that are uncomfortable.

Minseok is waiting for him outside of the bathroom, looking slightly annoyed that Junmyeon had run off without telling him. But he doesn’t scold him, instead asking, “Are you okay?”

Junmyeon nods, putting a hand on his suitcase’s handle. “I’m fine now.”

“Do you want any food?”

“Maybe later.” Junmyeon waves as their manager walks up to them, and assures him that he’s fine. “I just felt a little nauseated.”

Junmyeon’s parents are waiting for him outside of the airport, so Junmyeon turns to Minseok. “Goodbye,” he says. “I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

“See you,” Minseok replies, and he gives Junmyeon a little wave.

 

 

Maybe it’s because they’re older now, and they’ve come to a mutual agreement of sorts. It was gradual, something that they’d never spoken of and yet had fit into place before they’d come to realize it.

It hadn't always been that way. There were times throughout the years when they’d be forced to participate in some skinship with each other, and other times when they’d completely ignore each other. They never actually fought, never voiced their disagreements, but most of their relationship wasn’t based on words, anyway.

It meant that they never really apologized to each other. Sometimes, when Junmyeon would get annoyed at Minseok, he’d give him the cold shoulder and steadily ignore the other’s presence. Minseok, catching on, would ignore him as well. But before long, they’d have to come in contact with each other again, whether it was through filming or some show that they both participated in. At first, they’d act, smiling and talking to each other onstage, but ignoring each other offstage. Then, after a few such interactions, they’d forget about ignoring each other, and sometimes, Junmyeon would find himself complaining about something trivial to Minseok, and Minseok would point out that his hair was messed up. The moment one of them spoke up first, the silence would be broken, until it somehow began again. It was a constant cycle, but such occurrences had decreased as they’d grown older.

Junmyeon remembers one of those moments, though. It had been during another one of their fights, back when he was just thirteen years old and Minseok had begun high school. He remembers why he’d been annoyed at the older. When Minseok had begun high school, he spent considerably less time with Junmyeon, offering the excuse that high school was difficult whenever he was asked.

They’d been walking from a store together, a late dinner after filming had finished. They were both wearing caps and dressed casually so that they wouldn’t be noticed. While they were walking back, Minseok had suddenly reached over to take Junmyeon’s hand.

Usually, Junmyeon would interpret this as Minseok trying to call for a truce, but this time, he was just annoyed by the action. He pushed Minseok away, only with the intention of getting his hand free, but it ended up being more forceful than he’d originally intended. He remembered catching sight of Minseok’s wide eyes before the older had fallen to the ground.

Junmyeon should have knelt beside him, offered him a hand up, but for whatever reason, he was frozen in shock. He could only watch as Minseok looked at his skinned elbow and winced as he stood up again. Minseok resumed walking in silence, as though nothing had happened, and Junmyeon followed behind him.

Junmyeon knew that he should apologize. Whatever misgivings he had with Minseok before, what had happened just then was clearly his fault. But Minseok’s back was stiff, and Junmyeon just couldn’t bring himself to say those simple words. It usually wasn’t difficult for Junmyeon to apologize, especially when he knew he was in the wrong. There was something about Minseok, however, that made Junmyeon want to keep his silence, just to be stubborn.

This happened often during their early teen years, when they were still at odds with each other, still trying to figure out their boundaries and yet too stubborn to talk it out.

When they got back to the site, it wasn’t long before someone noticed the scrape on Minseok’s elbow. “Did you hurt yourself at school?”

Minseok looked down at his elbow, touching a finger to the wound and hissing slightly at the sting. “Yeah. I was just walking and I fell.” He shrugged carelessly. “It’s no big deal.”

He hadn't met Junmyeon’s eyes. He seemed unaware of Junmyeon’s hesitant stare, and he didn’t even look at Junmyeon as he walked away.

The silence, Junmyeon remembers, had lasted a week. Even the director had to pull them to the side at one point. “I know you two are fighting,” he said, “but can you please talk it out? You guys are supposed to be friends during this movie, and it’s not going to work out if this continues.”

Junmyeon had once again looked at Minseok, who only nodded seriously without looking back at him. “We’ll talk it out,” Minseok said.

They managed to finish that day’s filming successfully, and Minseok didn’t flinch when Junmyeon put an arm around his shoulders, following the script’s instructions. But the moment the director called cut, Minseok had walked away again.

By that point, Junmyeon really wanted to talk to Minseok, but he never seemed to be able to get the older alone. After filming one day, just before Minseok was about to leave, he finally managed to gather up his courage to catch Minseok’s arm. Even if it meant losing face, he had to settle this. If others could tell that they were fighting, it wasn’t going to work out well.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked, when Minseok had finally looked him in the eye.

Minseok had glanced back at his mom and held up a hand asking her to wait, before turning to face Junmyeon. “What?” There was clear impatience on his face.

There wasn’t anyone watching them, so Junmyeon quickly spoke. “I’m sorry for pushing you down the other day. I didn’t mean to push you away like that. I just had a lot on my mind, but…” He looks up and tries to gauge Minseok’s expression, but it’s blank. “Can you please forgive me?” He winces inwardly at the words, but he keeps a straight face.

“It’s not…” Minseok looks away. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“I won’t do it again,” Junmyeon continued, feeling that Minseok was still discontent about something. “I was just—”

“I said, it’s fine.” Minseok stepped forward, and before Junmyeon realized what was happening, he had his arms around Junmyeon. It was the briefest of hugs, and then he was walking away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Junmyeon had been too stunned to respond.

 

 

When Junmyeon arrives at the filming site, Minseok is already there, engaged in a conversation. Junmyeon walks over to him. He usually sticks to Minseok before and after the filming, so he doesn’t really look at the person Minseok’s talking to.

But when he does, he has to convince himself that he’s not hallucinating. Because there, before him, is someone that seemed to have emerged from the Internet, the product of perfect Weibo pictures and high quality television ads.

“Luhan?” Junmyeon says hesitantly, and the other turns to look at him.

“Junmyeon!” Luhan’s smile is still the same—bright and inviting, the kind that catches your eyes from far away. “It’s great to see you again.” He steps close to Junmyeon and pats his shoulder. “You’ve grown taller,” he says, and pushes Junmyeon towards Minseok. “Hey, I think you’re almost taller than Minseok now.”

Junmyeon smiles, and he sees Minseok rolling his eyes. But there’s a smile on Minseok’s face as well, the kind that Luhan tends to bring from everyone he meets.

Luhan’s taller now, too. Only four years ago—it hadn't been that long, but now, it seems like a whole lifetime away—when they first shot a movie together, Minseok had been taller than all of them, and Luhan and Junmyeon had been around the same height. Now, Luhan’s half a head taller than Minseok. His voice is slightly deeper too, and his hair is dyed a light brown color.

“How long are you going to be here?” Junmyeon asks. He hadn't even known that Luhan was coming, but he thinks that Minseok had known.

“Two days, but I have an interview tomorrow. I was going to surprise you,” Luhan adds. “But I won’t be here long.” He turns to Minseok. “Hey, we should do something together one day. All three of us, like the first movie we shot together.”

Minseok laughs softly. “Maybe.”

“Let’s go out for dinner after this,” Luhan says, when the director calls them over. “My treat.”

“Did you know he was coming?” Junmyeon asks, as they walk away.

“Yeah.” Minseok turns his head a little to catch Junmyeon’s eye. “He told me not to tell anyone else, though. He wanted to have a reunion for all of the kids we filmed that movie with, but there isn’t enough time.”

Junmyeon had lost contact with the other three kids who had also been in the movie. It’s been a while, and although they’d become good friends during the filming, they had been young and too many years had passed. “That sounds like fun.”

“Only Luhan would think of such a thing,” Minseok says. The sunlight illuminates the way his lips curve upwards, and it’s really fascinating. Junmyeon looks away and observes the preparation that’s still going on.

When the filming is over, the three of them walk over to a nearby restaurant with promises not to be recognized. It’s already pretty late. The sun is no longer visible behind the tall buildings, and streaks of pale pink clouds are scattered across the dark blue sky. It’s not dark enough for the streetlamps to be on yet, though. They’re wearing masks, and Luhan has his hood on, so no one notices them when they slip into the restaurant.

Junmyeon is keenly aware of Minseok and Luhan’s closeness when they sit next to each other and make jokes about the menu and Luhan’s Hangul skills. As though noticing his discomfort, Luhan turns to Junmyeon with a bright smile.

“What do you want for dinner?”

Junmyeon glances down at the menu. “I don’t know.” He isn’t really hungry, although he should be after such a long day of filming. His stomach feels weird, but it’s not from hunger.

“Order the most expensive thing on the menu,” Minseok says, leaning across the table as though he’s telling Junmyeon a secret. His volume is purposefully loud enough so that Luhan can hear the words, though, and Luhan protests loudly as he pushes at Minseok’s arm.

“Hey! I don’t have an unlimited wallet, you know. I almost forgot that a single bottle of water costs nine hundred won over here. Everything’s so expensive.” Luhan taps a finger on each of the zeros following the price of one of the dishes.

“You offered,” Minseok says, waving a hand to get a waiter’s attention.

“We should order soju,” Luhan says. “I can’t believe I was in Korea for so long, but I’ve never even had a glass.”

Minseok nudges Luhan with his elbow. “You’re not old enough yet.”

It feels like Junmyeon is intruding, since Minseok and Luhan are so comfortable around each other it’s like they’ve never been away. But then Luhan catches his eye across the table and smiles, and Junmyeon can’t help smiling back.

“I’ve watched your movies,” Luhan says, once the food has arrived. “You guys have gotten a lot better.” He points his chopsticks at Junmyeon. “Especially you. That crying scene in your last movie was so realistic.”

“I’ve tried watching your movies, but I didn’t understand any of it,” Junmyeon admits, and Luhan laughs loudly. His mouth is still full, but somehow, he still manages to look good while he does so.

“Eat some vegetables,” Minseok says, putting some cabbage on Junmyeon’s plate with his own chopsticks.

“Still playing the role of an older brother?” Luhan teases, as Junmyeon eats a mouthful of the cabbage.

“I’m older than you, too,” Minseok says, pushing Luhan away with a forefinger on his forehead. He’s smiling, though, wide enough that Junmyeon can see his teeth and gums.

When the bill comes, Luhan’s eyes widen at the number of digits in the total amount, and he insists on pulling his phone out to convert the price into RMB. He hands his credit card over, though, when Minseok offers to pay for it.

“I told you, I’m paying,” he says, refusing Minseok’s and Junmyeon’s attempts to pay him back.

They walk outside laughing and joking, and Luhan waves as he gets into a cab.

“I’ll see you guys.”

Minseok is still smiling when they walk back.

 

 

Junmyeon wakes up to the loud ringtone on his phone. He squints against the bright screen and answers the call, if only to get rid of the sound.

“You like him, don’t you?”

Junmyeon covers a yawn with the back of his mouth. He’s too sleepy to process the words, and there’s probably some eye crust in his eyes. He rubs his eyes as he speaks into the receiver. “Who is this?”

There’s soft laughter at the other end. “It’s Luhan.”

“Oh.” Junmyeon pulls his phone away from his ear, and sure enough, Luhan’s name is flashing on his screen. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” Luhan doesn’t sound sorry at all. “I have to go in a few minutes, but I thought I’d call you now, so I won’t have to worry about long distance fees later.”

“Okay.” Junmyeon has his phone between his ear and his shoulder, and he’s trying to change out of his pajamas. It’s a weekend and he doesn’t have anything planned out, but it’s difficult for him to go to sleep when he’s already awake.

“So… do you like him?”

“Like who?” It’s barely six in the morning, and it doesn’t sound like either one of his parents are awake yet. Junmyeon can get a head start on his homework.

“Minseok. Who else?” Luhan’s tone is light and casual, and Junmyeon can’t tell if he’s joking or not. He almost drops the phone at his words, and he trips over the pants that he’s been trying to put on. “Hello?” Luhan says, when Junmyeon hasn’t replied.

“Hey,” Junmyeon says, and winces when his voice cracks. It’s really too early in the morning. Either his brain isn’t working properly, or Luhan’s Korean has worsened significantly.

“I asked you a question.”

Junmyeon wonders if he could fake a connection problem and end the call, but he remembers Luhan’s persistency and decides to try to find a way out of the situation. “Of course I like Minseok. We’re friends.” It’s a loose term, but he can’t find another way to describe the relationship between him and Minseok. He wanders into his bathroom and puts his phone on the sink, setting it on speaker while he gets ready to brush his teeth.

“No, I meant as more than friends,” Luhan says, his voice coming out too loud over the phone’s speakers.

Junmyeon’s hand freezes on the faucet. “That’s not something to joke about.”

“I’m not joking.” Luhan’s tone is serious. “It’s just… you were looking at him weirdly yesterday, and I was just wondering. I might be over thinking.”

Junmyeon puts his toothbrush down and turns his phone off of speaker mode, holding it by his ear. He leans against the door as he speaks. “I think so. Is it that obvious?” If Luhan was able to pick it up by spending just a few hours with them after being gone for four years, does that mean that his acting skills aren’t as good as he thinks they are? It’s a mildly terrifying thought.

“Not really, but it’s just…” There’s a soft sigh on Luhan’s end, followed by some noises in the background.

“Don’t tell Minseok, okay?” It’s not that Junmyeon doesn’t trust Luhan, but there’s no such thing as being too cautious.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” There’s a pause, and then Luhan asks, “You mean, you haven’t told him yet?”

The mirror reflects the small, bitter smile on Junmyeon’s mouth. “You think he’d still be willing to talk to me if he knew?” It would give Minseok more of a reason to avoid Junmyeon, to actually hate him, and while Junmyeon knows not to expect anything from Minseok, he doesn’t want that. It’s better to be forgotten as Minseok goes on with his life than for Minseok to have negative memories of Junmyeon.

“Junmyeon, it’s not like that…” Junmyeon can hear the frown in Luhan’s voice.

“It’s okay,” Junmyeon cuts him off, and he laughs a little to cover it up. “We’re still young, so it doesn’t matter.” Except they aren’t young anymore. Minseok’s final exams are coming up, and he’s already planning the college he’s going to go to and the classes that he’s going to take. And chances are, no matter how hard Junmyeon studies this time, he won’t be able to get into the same college. It’s not like Minseok would want him there, either, as a second shadow following him his whole life. Besides, two years is a long time, and Junmyeon’s still stuck in high school.

“I think you should confess,” Luhan says. The background noises on his side are getting louder now. Either the connection is worsening, or he has to leave soon. It’s probably the latter.

“I can’t,” Junmyeon says, even though he’s wanted to for quite some time. Often, it feels like he’s keeping a dirty secret, and it would be worse if Minseok heard it from someone else rather than Junmyeon. Even telling it to Luhan right now, although he knows that Luhan is trustworthy, makes him feel uneasy. “I still have a career, and he’s leaving soon anyway.”

Luhan sighs again, more loudly this time, and Junmyeon hears his muffled voice. He probably covered the receiver to talk to someone. A moment later, he’s speaking to Junmyeon again. “Listen, I think you should talk to him. It’s better than regretting the chance to ever take the risk. I have to go,” he adds, his voice apologetic. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you later,” Junmyeon echoes. Luhan ends the call abruptly, leaving the dial tone sounding in Junmyeon’s ears.

A moment later, he gets a text message from Luhan. It’s a sticker, with the words fighting! underneath. Junmyeon smiles and replies, “good luck on your interview,” before putting his phone face down on the counter.

 

 

Junmyeon sits on the bed, watching Minseok pack. His clothes are folded neatly and arranged in the suitcase to make the most of all the available space. Junmyeon had offered to help, but Minseok told him that he could just watch. Besides, Minseok is much better at packing than Junmyeon is. Junmyeon usually throws all his clothes and necessities into his suitcase and sits on it while he tries to zip it up.

Minseok is leaving in a week, before the party in celebration for the end of their latest movie's filming. It doesn't quite feel real yet, but the date of Minseok's departure is engraved in Junmyeon's mind.

Minseok had been the one to invite Junmyeon over. "Maybe I'll cook for you," he'd said, a hint of a smile in his eyes. "It'll be a while before we see each other, anyway."Junmyeon had never been one to refuse Minseok's cooking, so he’d agreed.

He’s playing with his phone while he waits for Minseok to finish packing. Most of the things are already packed up. This is the last suitcase that Minseok plans to bring with him. Many other things are stored away in Minseok's closet in neatly labeled boxes.

"It makes the room seem neater," Minseok had said, when Junmyeon had looked through his boxes.

It makes the room look empty, Junmyeon thinks, but he doesn't say it aloud. He had looked through the boxes, too. Most of them were labeled according to years, filled with books, loose papers, trophies, and toys. There had also been many boxes filled with Minseok's work: all the movies he's acted in, the photo shoots he's participated in, even some fan gifts.

Most of them are associated with Junmyeon. They're all a part of Minseok's past, something that will be left behind and no doubt forgotten as Minseok moves on with his life.

"You'll text me, right?" Junmyeon asks, his voice breaking through the silence that had settled over the room.

Minseok starts, like he'd forgotten that Junmyeon is in the room as well. "Yeah, of course." He smiles, a small, soft smile that makes his eyes light up. Junmyeon has been looking for a picture or even a gif that can capture Minseok's smile forever to save on his phone, but he's never found one that could compare to Minseok himself. "It's not like we're going to be that far away."

Minseok's college is only two hours away, but distance isn't linear to the frequency of Minseok's visits back home. Junmyeon puts his phone face down on the bed and leans back into Minseok's bed. It's soft and comfortable, and the pillow smells like Minseok's shampoo. He feels a little creepy, but luckily, Minseok isn't looking at him.

"I'm just making sure you won't forget about me," Junmyeon says, keeping his tone purposefully lighthearted.

"I won't." Minseok gets up and walks over to a corner of his room. He picks up a stuffed bear sitting on the table and tosses it over to Junmyeon. "Here. It's for you."

Junmyeon catches the bear and stares into its large, black eyes. "I'm too old for teddy bears." He looks up at Minseok. "Aren't you too old for teddy bears, too?"

"It's a gift." Minseok rolls his eyes a little and goes back to packing.

"Thanks." Junmyeon sits the teddy bear on a pillow. It's small and soft, a warm chocolate brown color. He'll probably keep it by his bed, even if his friends would never let him hear the end of it if they ever found out.

Because it's from Minseok, and Junmyeon's never been able to reject anything Minseok offers. And Minseok isn't one to give things away freely.

Junmyeon finds his thoughts wandering to Luhan, to the phone conversation they'd had many weeks ago. He still hasn't confessed yet, and if he ever plans on doing so, this may be his only chance. After today, they're going to be busy at school and there's no telling what Minseok might have to sort out before he leaves. Minseok has already graduated, so he's going to leave one day while Junmyeon's still in school.

Minseok isn't even going to stay for the summer. He's going to stay with his cousin in a place about fifteen minutes from the college. So if Junmyeon confesses now, he won't have anything to lose.

It's not like he ever had anything in the first place.

"Minseok?" His voice is too soft, but Minseok looks up anyway. "I think I like you." He's playing with the fabric of a pillowcase with his left hand, his fingers moving nervously over the material. "As more than a friend," he adds, when Minseok doesn't respond.

It's the same impassive stare that Minseok always gives, and the air is too calm. Junmyeon finds it hard to breathe. He mentally berates himself. All these years of acting, yet he doesn't even know what to do during a confession.

Just when Junmyeon thinks Minseok is going to just keep staring at him until he laughs it off as a joke, just when Junmyeon's opening his mouth to tell him to forget it, Minseok turns away and goes back to folding his clothes. "We have careers to think of," he says, his voice calm and smooth. It's the voice of an actor, confidently delivering his lines, and Junmyeon blinks away the prickling feeling behind his eyelids.

He really shouldn't have hoped for anything, but after all these years of admiring and liking Minseok, hope was the only thing that kept him going.

Minseok's reaction to his confession is actually quite gentle, compared to the way he'd usually reply to girls who confessed to him. It's a reminder that, no matter what, they still have their careers to think of. That they can't afford to be reckless because there are millions of eyes constantly watching them. It's not really an answer, but Junmyeon understands enough.

But he’s an actor too, though. He can hold back his tears when he wants to, and he can smile and pretend that nothing is wrong.



When Junmyeon wishes Minseok a happy nineteenth birthday by a text message, it goes unanswered. Not even a 'read' notification pops up beside the message, and Junmyeon closes the app before putting his phone down.

Maybe Minseok had changed his number. But why hadn't he told Junmyeon about it?

They've started texting less and less over the years. It's been two years since Minseok has left for college. This is Junmyeon's last year in high school, and he's been too busy to think of Minseok.

In a way, it's good, since it gives him more room to forget. But in the end, it's still Junmyeon who's trying to hold on to the last means of communication with Minseok, trying to maintain at least a distant friendship.

Junmyeon has given up, too. When too many of his text messages had gone read but unanswered, he'd stopped texting Minseok. It's hard to keep up a one-sided conversation.

He hasn't been keeping up with Minseok's activities, either. Where once he would look through recent posts after their activities together, these days, he's too busy to even open his social media accounts.

It hurts a little, how easily Minseok was able to forget Junmyeon, but it's not like Junmyeon had expected anything different.

Sometimes, Junmyeon will stare at the teddy bear that sits on his nightstand, and sometimes, when he's at an interview or online, he'll catch sight of the word Xiuho.

But mostly, Junmyeon has been able to move on as well. He's been in movies on his own, some as the younger version of the protagonist, and even recently in a romance with a girl his age. It had been a sweet, innocent movie, and the sales had gone really well.

Maybe Minseok was right. Now that they've been separated, Junmyeon has a chance to develop on his own. He's no longer Minseok's shadow, and these days, their names are no longer closely associated. Every once in a while, someone will ask if they'll ever do another project again, a question that Junmyeon will answer with a vague smile. He wonders if Minseok is happier now, since he no longer has to look after a pesky younger brother.

Sometimes, Junmyeon misses Minseok's presence. It's mostly in the spaces between filming, when he would stick to Minseok's side. Now, he's surrounded by people older than him, who smile and talk to him like he's still a kid. And Junmyeon will smile and reply as is expected of him.

His last year of high school also means that Junmyeon needs to make plans for college.

He doesn't have a specific college in mind, and when asked, he just replies that he'd like to get as high of a score on his college entrance exams as possible.

Last year, Minseok had wished Junmyeon a happy birthday. This year, when Junmyeon's birthday comes around, Minseok doesn't even message him.

Junmyeon almost doesn't notice. Almost.

He gets thousands of messages from fans on his social media websites. He gets many text messages from his friends.

But even if Minseok had, somehow, lost his phone and all of his contacts, he could still have contacted Junmyeon some other way. Junmyeon knows that he's still active on his social media accounts, and he could easily message Junmyeon through Wechat or something.

Junmyeon only allows himself a brief time to ponder over this before he goes back to his everyday life.

Most of his days are taken up in memorizing science facts and movie scripts. He gets cast in another romance movie as the male lead, and it's a welcome distraction. Movie scripts are easy. He knows how the story is going to end and he's told what to say or do.

Pretending is easy, too. It's easy to slip into his character’s skin, and if his crying scenes are perhaps a little too realistic, no one points it out.

He takes his college entrance exams and he scores within the top twenty in his grade. When he applies for colleges, he purposefully doesn't put the name of Minseok's college on his form.

No one seems to notice anything, not even his own parents. Sometimes, his mom will bring it up in casual conversation over dinner.

"Have you heard from Minseok recently?" she'll ask, and Junmyeon will smile and nod.

It's funny, the way Junmyeon feels Minseok's absence. It's a kind of feeling that, when he notices it, makes his throat tighten. It makes so many memories, both good and bad, come to mind. It makes his fingertips tingle, and it makes him want to say something to someone, anyone, but he never knows what to say. He doesn't cry over it, and these days, he finds himself thinking of Minseok less and less.

Maybe it's a good thing, Junmyeon thinks when he's packing up to leave for college.

He sees the teddy bear that Minseok had given him on his nightstand, and he contemplates stashing it in a box in the corner of his closet or even throwing it away. It would be so easy.

But when Junmyeon zips up the last of his suitcases and steps out of his childhood home, the teddy bear remains on his nightstand. 

 

 

The next time Junmyeon meets Minseok again is unplanned and unexpected.

It’s during Junmyeon’s third year of college, when his schedule is so filled with school, acting, and the modeling he does on the side that he survives on coffee and makeup. Maybe, if he’d looked at the emails that his manager sent him closely, he would have seen the name Kim Minseokwritten there somewhere, but as it is, he walks into the studio completely unprepared.

It’s like all those years have never passed from the way his eyes immediately find Minseok in the midst of a crowded room, the way that he can’t tear his gaze away despite the blur of activity around him. There’s familiarity in the way Minseok looks back at him, his gaze unreadable.

“Hello, my name is Kim Junmyeon. I look forward to working with you.”

“I’m Kim Minseok. And me too, I guess.”

“This is Kim Minseok. You’re going to be working with him—”

“I know,” Junmyeon interrupts. His tone is too abrupt, his words don’t fit the context—but then, his eyes were only ever on Minseok.

Minseok smiles. Junmyeon thinks that it looks practiced—the kind that can be conjured at the flick of a wand. The kind without any substance behind it, without any feelings to support it. “It’s been a while.”

Junmyeon wants to scream at him, wants to take him by the neck and shake him and demand answers from him, but he only smiles back. “I know.” It’s for the job. (It’s always been for the job.)

Really, posing together isn’t that bad. They’re both experienced actors, and it’s not like they’ve never worked together before. It’s easy to smile for the cameras and follow the instructions they’re given.

If Junmyeon’s eyes stay on Minseok for too long, no one mentions it. Minseok still looks the same. There’s still the bright glint in his eyes when he smiles, the sharp lines of his eyebrows. But there are subtle changes, too. Like the shocking blond of his hair, or the way, over the years, the fat on his cheeks has disappeared, and his cheekbones are sharp and angular. It’s a reminder that they aren’t kids anymore.

“Smile!” the photographer says, and Junmyeon turns his eyes back to the camera.

It’s hard to stay focused, though, when Minseok is right beside him. Their arms are touching, and each time Minseok moves a little, Junmyeon feels it. Minseok puts his arm around Junmyeon for one of the pictures—“You’re supposed to be friends! Smile!” Minseok leans close to whisper something into Junmyeon’s ear, his breath warm on Junmyeon’s skin, and Junmyeon smiles even though Minseok isn’t even saying anything. Minseok leans against Junmyeon, pressing against Junmyeon’s back, and rather than burying his head into Minseok’s soft hair (he still uses the same shampoo), Junmyeon grins brightly for the cameras.

It’s for the cameras. It’s always been for the cameras.

Although it isn’t a long photo shoot, it seems to stretch on for hours. Junmyeon’s cheeks hurt from smiling during the entire time, and it’s with relief that he sits down and tries to wipe away the makeup on his face.

“You missed a spot right here.” Minseok sits down beside Junmyeon and takes a tissue to wipe at a part of Junmyeon’s face.

Junmyeon moves back a little and takes the tissue from Minseok’s hands. “Thanks.”

Minseok doesn’t leave, instead sitting back with a soft laugh. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Do you want to go out and get something to eat?”

Why is it like all those years haven’t passed? Why can’t Junmyeon act normally around Minseok? “I have something after this,” he lies, standing to grab a bottle of water. It’s hard to look Minseok in the eye, and Junmyeon thinks he’s exhausted his daily quota of smiles. He’d thought he’d exhausted his lifelong quota of moments of unrequited love as well, but evidently, he’s continually proven wrong.

“Then give me your phone number? We can meet up later.”

It’s weird, now that Minseok is the one asking to meet up with him. And it’s weird, how much Junmyeon wants to say no, even if he never could. “It’s fine,” Junmyeon says, grabbing his sweatshirt.

“Why are you avoiding me? You’re not mad at me, are you?” When Junmyeon tries to walk past Minseok, Minseok steps in front of him. “Junmyeon. Answer me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Minseok never was the problem. “I need to go.”

“Give me your phone number.” Minseok’s voice is firm.

“No.” It’s stupid, it’s childish, and Junmyeon really hopes no one else is listening.

“You are mad at me, aren’t you?” Junmyeon doesn’t answer this time. “Junmyeon.” It’s the same tone that Minseok used on him when they were younger, the one that told Junmyeon he was being immature and unreasonable. The same degrading tone that told Junmyeon that he was overreacting. The same tone that had told Junmyeon it was his fault that he couldn’t get his lines right, that if he really tried, he could find time to do well in his career and his schoolwork. The same tone that had told Junmyeon that it wasn’t possible to choose both his own feelings and his career. The tone that holds no sympathy, only weary experience.

“Why do you care now?” Junmyeon’s staring at a point just beyond Minseok’s shoulder; it’s easier to deliver lines when you aren’t staring into the eyes of the audience, when you aren’t overcome by stage fright or fear. “You never replied to all those text messages.”

“I lost my phone,” Minseok replies easily, and he’s still speaking like Junmyeon is a young child who doesn’t understand, except Junmyeon does. He’s understood all along, but Minseok…

“You’re right, I don’t get it.” Junmyeon pushes past Minseok. “Forget it.”

“Get what?” Minseok sounds confused, but Junmyeon ignores him, walking out of the studio. He ignores Minseok, who’s calling after him.

Junmyeon’s legs are trembling when he walks outside, but he makes it to his manager’s car. He slams the door as he gets in, and his manager looks up from his phone in surprise. “Let’s go.”

Minseok doesn’t follow him. It’s not like Junmyeon cares. It’s not like he even notices.

It’s not like, as he sits through five o’clock traffic, he thinks about all of the days they’d spent together when they were kids.

It’s not like he looks through their old text messages.

Junmyeon’s phone number is still the same.

 

 

They work in the same field, so it’s not like Junmyeon hadn’t expected to not see Minseok again. It’s just that he’d been hoping that they wouldn’t meet like this.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Minseok says, smiling at Junmyeon as he takes a glass of wine from the table beside them.

“Same,” Junmyeon says, trying to discreetly glance around them for some means of escape. He doesn’t see anyone he recognizes close to him, though, so he settles for staring down at his own glass of wine, hoping that Minseok will leave soon.

“Remember when we came to these parties when we were kids, and we tried to taste some of the wine?” Minseok laughs softly, the small, polite laugh that he laughs during interviews. It’s nothing like the loud, uninhibited laugh that escapes when he really finds something funny, and Junmyeon hates it.

Junmyeon does remember, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even nod to show that he heard. He remembers those times clearly. No matter how much he’s tried to forget, those are some of his favorite memories. It’s hard, since his favorite memories include the very person he wants to forget the most.

There were long, boring speeches and awards during some of the events they’d been invited to, when they would pass time by whispering into each other’s ears or fooling around as much as they could with the cameras on them. Junmyeon remembers how much brighter Minseok’s genuine smile was up close than under the flash of the camera. He remembers the way Minseok had beat some of the best actors in Korea at that time and won many acting awards. He remembers the times when Minseok acted like he really cared about Junmyeon, like they were friends. It was a great act, one that even Junmyeon had fallen for, even though he’d known the truth. And maybe, all along, he’d been clinging to the hope that those moments had been real.

“You know the director?” Junmyeon asks instead, moving his hand a little and swirling the wine in his glass. He’d taken only a few sips of it. When they had been young, they’d been fascinated by this liquid that they were never allowed to taste, but now, he doesn’t see anything desirous in the bitter drink.

“Worked with him once.” Minseok puts down his glass. “You want to go up?”

There are so many reasons why Junmyeon should say no, but there are also just as many reasons why he can’t resist. There’s nothing to do here, Junmyeon reasons with himself, as he sets down his own glass. He’s already talked to everyone he knows, already chatted with the directors here about future projects that he may participate in.

Somehow, they manage to make it to the rooftop without bumping into anyone. There’s no one else on the rooftop, and Junmyeon gently pushes the door closed as he looks up at the sky. A gentle breeze blows over them, and the stars are surprisingly bright over their heads.

“Have you been doing well?” Minseok asks, his question directed at the sky. He’s tipping his head back to look up at the disappearing rays of the sun.

“Fine,” Junmyeon answers shortly, but he walks over to stand beside Minseok. He leans his elbows against the edge of the roof, peering down at the buildings and cars below them. The view is refreshing, although the height is making him slightly dizzy.

“I’ve missed you,” Minseok says, after a few moments of silence. Junmyeon doesn’t respond, but he continues, “I know we weren’t that close when we were kids, but there’s actually something I wanted to tell you.” His fingers close around the edge of the roof, and Junmyeon can see a faint tremble in his lips under the dim light. “I’ve liked you a long time now. I guess I’ve never really had a chance to tell you.”

Junmyeon stiffens when he processes Minseok’s words. He had to have heard incorrectly. There’s no way—

“Seriously,” and there’s a note of sincerity in Minseok’s voice that Junmyeon can’t ignore.

Junmyeon should walk away, should forget that this conversation ever happened. Minseok could be drunk, or Junmyeon could be misunderstanding his meaning. But there’s still a small hope inside him, one that hasn’t faded over the years, that has him standing still, staring into Minseok’s eyes as Minseok steps closer to him.

“I always thought that it wasn’t worth it, that I was being ridiculous because we still had careers. But I don’t want to waste my best years on something that doesn’t mean a lot to me. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life regretting. So… will you be my boyfriend?”

“How did you know…?” There’s a mess of emotions in Junmyeon’s mind—anger, shock, confusion, happiness. There are so many things that he wants to ask Minseok, so many things that he doesn’t understand. All of those years—

Minseok cuts off his next words with a soft press of his lips. It’s brief and chaste, and before Junmyeon can blink, Minseok has already stepped away. But the kiss effectively cuts off whatever Junmyeon had been thinking about.

“Say yes?” Minseok is smiling, but Junmyeon can see the hesitance in his features.

It’s unfair, how Minseok can leave so easily and turn back with a few words. Junmyeon still doesn’t completely understand, and there’s still so much that they could lose if they really started dating. By agreeing, Junmyeon puts himself in a vulnerable position, both by having his reputation destroyed by the public if their relationship was ever exposed and by having his heart broken again by Minseok.

It’s scary, like he’s dangling on the edge of the roof. But Junmyeon isn’t looking over the edge right now; he’s staring into Minseok’s eyes, and there was only ever one answer.

“Okay.”

Minseok is smiling widely now, and Junmyeon can see the whiteness of his teeth flashing. He takes Junmyeon’s hand into his own.

Junmyeon takes a deep breath, relishing in the feeling of fresh oxygen filling his lungs. “I like you, too,” he confesses. Those are feelings that he’d tried to leave behind over the past few years, but he’d never managed to succeed.

“I know.”

 

 

 

Behind the Scenes

 

 

May 22, 2020

 

Minseok opens the texting app on his phone and types in a number that he’s memorized by heart. The numbers are the easier part, but when he taps the part to type in his message, his thumb hovers over the screen and his mind turns blank.

He types in the same character and deletes over and over again. There are many words that he could say, and even a simple phrase could do, but in the end, he can’t find anything suitable to say. There aren’t enough words to bridge a distance, and there isn’t anything suitable to say.

In the end, Minseok closes the app and turns off his phone. He doesn’t touch it for the rest of the day.

 

 

April 6, 2020

 

“Is there someone special in your life right now?”

Minseok nearly turns his head to face the interviewer from surprise, but he quickly composes his expression and smiles for the camera. “Not at the moment. I’m still busy with work. I don’t plan on getting married any time soon.”

“What about Kim Junmyeon? Have you contacted him recently?”

Minseok knows that the interviewer is going off script, but the cameras are still rolling, so he has to do his best to answer the questions. “No,” he admits, truthfully. He fumbles for words for a moment. It’s been a long time since anyone has specifically asked him about Junmyeon, and he isn’t sure what there is left to say. They were just coworkers who acted together for a few years. Surely the public has forgotten about Xiuho by now. “We’ve both been busy,” he says eventually, settling for a safe answer.

The interviewer goes on to ask several more questions. Minseok doesn’t let his smile falter once.

 

 

November 14, 2017

 

“Junmyeon isn’t going to your college.”

Minseok closes his eyes, breathes in the sharp winter air. His fingers are tugging at a loose thread on his sweater and his eyes sting from the wind. Somehow, his voice comes out steady, smoothly making its way into the phone to the other end. “I see.”

There’s an awkward silence, and Minseok has a feeling that the conversation is going to end here. “Thank you,” he says quickly, before the person on the other end can say anything. “I’ll call you later.”

He pulls the phone away from his ear before he can hear the response and hits the end call button.

The wind is bitter when he walks back, and he blinks away the sudden tears that prickle in the corners of his eyes.

 

 

July 14, 2017

 

Minseok has been to Junmyeon’s house many times before, but somehow, this time feels different. Maybe it’s the expensive bottle of wine he’s holding in his hand, a silent reminder that this isn’t just a friendly meeting.

Junmyeon’s mother opens the door with a bright smile. “Hi, Minseok. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“Hello, Ms. Kim.” Minseok bows and steps into the house when she opens the door wider. He takes off his shoes as he enters, lining them up on the shelf in a space that he’d claimed as his own.

“Junmyeon and his father are out. Were you looking for Junmyeon? I can tell him you came over. He’s going to be here tomorrow…”

“No, it’s fine.” Minseok smiles politely as he accepts the cup of water that she pours for him. He sits down at the table, giving her the bottle of wine, and lets her fuss over him. It’s oddly familiar, and this place almost feels like home. “I just wanted to talk to you,” he says, when she sits down across from him.

“What is it?” There’s concern in Ms. Kim’s eyes, but she’s ready to listen. She isn’t one of the adults who believe that children’s words are any less important. There’s a serious air around her, one that Minseok’s always found appealing.

“It’s about Junmyeon.” Minseok takes a sip of the water. It’s just the right temperature—warm, but not too hot. The cup clatters against the surface of the table as he sets it down. “I would like to date him one day, so I came to ask for your permission."

“I’ll have to talk to Junmyeon’s father about this.” Ms. Kim is frowning, but it’s not a disapproving frown. It’s more like she’s thinking about Minseok’s words.

“I understand,” Minseok says, folding his hands in his lap. He feels really young right now, but he knows that he needs to do this.

“Are you serious about this?” Junmyeon’s mother asks, and Minseok nods. “You’re not just playing around? What if the two of you date and you fall out of love with each other?”

“I’ll keep him for as long as he wants me.”

“How can you be so sure that he wants you?”

“Because…” Minseok’s voice trails off. He’s really not sure, and the sudden realization makes him feel foolish. He shouldn’t have moved this fast. “I’m sorry,” he says. He was foolish for making the assumption—that just because Junmyeon had always been by his side, had walked with him through the worst of his teenage years, Junmyeon would be another one of his many admirers. Maybe he’s too young to understand how love works, but he’s certainly not too young to know love when he feels it.

“He’s going to be an adult soon. Even if I tried to stop him, I couldn’t.” Ms. Kim reaches across the table and takes Minseok’s hand. She smiles, and although her face is wrinkled from age, her eyes are just as bright as her son’s. “I give you my blessing. It’s not up to me, but do your best to make sure he’s happy.”

“I will,” Minseok says. As he walks out of the house, he can’t stop smiling.

 

 

March 26, 2016

 

When Minseok wakes up and reaches for his phone, the date flashing on the screen and the dozens of notifications remind him that it’s his birthday. He scrolls through his notifications, ignoring most of them to reply to later, but a few catch his attention.

The first one is from his mother.

Happy birthday, son. Come home tomorrow. I’ve prepared some soup for you.

There’s another, sent a few minutes later, from his father.

Happy birthday. Listen to your mother and come home.

It’s not much, but Minseok understands. It’s a compromise, an end to the tension that has stretched over his family for too long. It’s a birthday gift that he doesn’t deserve, and it’s invitation to go home again.

 

 

February 15, 2016

 

The wooden floor underneath his knees is harsh and unyielding. Minseok’s muscles are already hurting already. He tries to soothe some of the burn away by pressing his fingers into the muscle, but the position is still highly uncomfortable.

 It’s made worse by the tense silence in the room.

He almost wants to take back the words that he’d just spoken, but he can’t.

“Are you sure about this?” his father asks. The disappointment in his words is obvious.

Minseok nods, keeping his head bowed as he stares at the grains in the wood on the ground. “I am.”

“Minseok, you don’t…” Her mother begins to speak, but she falls silent.

Maybe it’s worse this way: the silence that gives him the answers he already knows. Instead of being screamed at and reprimanded, he learns by himself the mistakes that he made. It’s been like this since he was young, and he’s gotten used to it, but this—this isn’t a mistake. He just doesn’t know how else to explain it.

There’s silence even as Minseok walks out of the house, the disappointment weighing his shoulders. The disappointment is unspoken, but he knows. He’s always known, the way that some things are naturally assimilated into your knowledge just by observing. He’s known that he shouldn’t prefer men over women, he’s known that there’s a certain boundary between friends and lovers, and he’s known that if his parents never approved of his career choice, they would certainly never approve of this.

He wants to run back and tell them, “I’m sorry.” He wants to tell them that it’s not as bad as they think it is. He wants to tell them about the joy in acting and the beauty you can find in someone, regardless of their gender, but in the end, he just keeps walking.

He’s always been taught to keep his silence, so even when there are words that he needs to say, he doesn’t say them.

 

 

June 5, 2015

 

The steadiness of Junmyeon’s breathing tells Minseok that he’s fallen asleep, but Minseok can’t fall asleep.

He stays awake, staring up at the ceiling of the dark room. His mind keeps replaying the events of the day.

Junmyeon may be an actor, but Minseok knows that his emotions are genuine. Maybe it’s because he’s still young, and he hasn’t learned how to hide his emotions well. It means that sometimes, it’s difficult for him to get into his role, but at the same time, it makes his acting astounding. When he does show an emotion, it’s undeniably genuine. 

Which is why, even when Junmyeon tries to hide his face, Minseok can catch the hurt in his expression. Somehow, seeing Junmyeon hurt makes Minseok hurt as well, but he can’t do anything about it. Even though they’re young, Minseok is already well aware of the boundaries, and he knows that, although they have to appear close, they still need to keep a distance. But Minseok has already perfected the art of hiding his emotions, of appearing stoic and emotionless while his heart is screaming otherwise. It hurts to see that Junmyeon still possesses some of youth’s naiveté, although he doesn’t want it to ever go away.

Over the years, Minseok has learned how to bring the black and white pages of script to life, but right now, he doesn’t know what to do.

In the silence of the night, his mouth forms the words that he’d never be able to say aloud.

I’m sorry.

 

 

August 29, 2012

 

Minseok is fourteen when he gets his first phone. It’s late, considering that even Junmyeon, who is two years younger, has his own phone already.

“Let’s go to the store to buy you a phone case,” Junmyeon says, when Minseok shows him his new phone. He takes Minseok by the hand the moment they’re done filming, chatting excitedly as they walk to the store. “It’s an even newer model than mine. I’m sure it must have cost a lot. We have to find a good case to go with it.”

Minseok doesn’t respond to Junmyeon’s words, doesn’t even give an indication that he heard, but Junmyeon is used to it, and he keeps talking as they enter the store. “I think you should buy a case that matches the phone. Maybe a bright green one? Like that.” He points to one of the cases.

Minseok takes his time picking out a case. They’re all cheap, plastic ones, but there’s a blue one that catches his eye. When he finishes paying, Junmyeon isn’t in the store anymore.

He finds Junmyeon outside the store, by one of the arcades.

“You’re finished already?” Junmyeon turns around to face him, his hand falling from the control. “I was trying to get that bear,” he points at one of the stuffed animals inside the machine, “but I can never get it. I think that was my two hundredth try.”

Junmyeon looks unhappy, and Minseok wants to tell him that it’s okay, but instead, he says, “Let’s go back.”

I’ll buy you one, he promises silently, as they walk down the street.

 

There are some things Minseok changes often, like his passwords, since he’s always been paranoid of being hacked. But there are some things that he doesn’t change.

One of them is his background picture. It’s actually taken from one of his photoshoots with Junmyeon. He’d zoomed in on the picture, focusing on a nearly hidden design in the background. It’s simple and unsuspicious, and he never finds the need to change it.

The day that he receives his phone, Junmyeon puts in his number, smiling excitedly as he hands the phone back to Minseok. “Now we can text each other all the time.”

Minseok doesn’t always reply to the texts, but he makes sure to read all of them.

The day that Minseok receives his phone, he also receives Junmyeon’s phone number. He memorizes the ten digits, and he never forgets them.

 

 

June 15, 2020

 

Minseok is twenty-two when he meets Junmyeon again, when he decides that he’s willing to give in to what he’s always wanted. He’s twenty-two when he stands on the edge of the roof, when he feels like he’s one small push away from falling. He’s twenty-two when he thinks that, for once, he’s willing to give up everything. His knees are trembling when he speaks, the feeling of fear and insecurity almost foreign. The stars and the moon are too far away to give him any strength, and the sun has already gone down. But his voice is strong because he knows. Even if, after all these years, he still doesn’t have the courage, he has certainty.

 

 

July 30, 2012

 

Minseok nearly jumps from surprise when he sees Junmyeon watching him, but he doesn’t stop singing.

That night, in the dim shadows of nearby light, Minseok sings FT Island’s A Song for You to Junmyeon, and he means every word.