xii. “And that's when I realize that, at the end, we'd all wish for the same thing. Just a little more time.”

― Wildcard

_____

Time is a strange thing, and what’s stranger still is how you want it to pass so badly when it’s in your hands and how much you want it back when it’s gone.

I think Jongdae knows so, too. I see him watching longingly sometimes. And it’s between that; the wish for more time, the wish to turn back time, and finally, the wish to change time.

***

School isn’t much different when we get back. The Languages class has, miraculously, quieted down from the disturbance before and from what I see, there’s no more rumours about Jongdae and I. I don’t think it can be attributed to the fact that I shut it down, but more so that it’s still going on, just quieter. Or maybe there’s been Christmas magic and everything is calmer than before; I don’t know. Either way, I’m glad for the quietude, and I hope that it remains like that. They can say all they want behind our backs (on second thought, I would definitely rather they didn’t, though if they must, the last thing I want is it to be in my face)—hearing it is another thing.

Jongdae doesn’t speak to Chanyeol when he sits down in his seat. In fact, I don’t even think he acknowledges the other boy.

Maybe the bad blood between the two would have eventually been noticed by the rest of their friends, but before it can happen, Ms. Lim comes inside the classroom again before Jongdae or Chanyeol can talk to the rest of them. As usual, she raps her ruler on the desk, demands for the order that she usually doesn’t get until quite a couple of yells later, and finally, everyone settles down. From my seat (and peering over the side of Chanyeol—he’s too tall for me to see past), I can see that Jongdae has turned away immediately. I wonder if I should talk to him after class, though there doesn't seem to be anything to say.

The class seems to blur by. I catch something about presentations starting tomorrow (the first group groans, and Sohee mutters something about her partner who’s still apparently incapable of working and how it’s going to destroy her grade). None of it seems important—after all, we’re not presenting until last—and we’ve practically finished. There doesn’t seem to be much to worry about.

Class ends and I hurry for Jongdae. Chanyeol has somehow managed to round up all the rest of their friends and he’s chatting with the short one with hair that nearly covers his eyes and who’s extremely loud—I think his name is Byun Baekhyun—and Jongdae looks focused on backing his bag, not even looking in the direction of his friends.

“Hey,” I manage.

He glances up, then gives me a small smile. It’s a bit tight, though. “Hi.”

I glance in Chanyeol’s direction. He has his back to me and is talking extremely loud. Is he uncomfortable? I take my guess that he is, and while he’s trying to make Jongdae so, it’s not quite working.

“We should finish the script,” I say instead, raising my voice slightly. “I have my laptop in my locker, so if you don’t have anything after school, we could work on it.”

Jongdae nods. “Sounds good. I’ll… meet you at the gates after class?”

To my absolute surprise, Chanyeol is the one who turns around before I can think of a response. He gives a smile that’s obviously fake, though it’s directed at either Jongdae or I so it doesn’t really matter. “We have practice today,” he tells Jongdae. “Remember? I texted the group. We have a game on Thursday.”

Jongdae doesn’t budge. “My wrist is injured,” he replies. “I’ve already talked to the coach. He’s pulling me out of the lineup because the doctor says I can’t play for at least a week, so I can’t go to any practices this week either.”

Chanyeol opens his mouth to say something, though before he can, Jongdae nudges me. “We have chemistry next, right?” he asks. “Let’s go.”

***

He sits down next to me. I’m not sure what has happened to the girl who’s supposed to be next to me, but I don’t see her and apparently nobody has a problem with where Jongdae’s sitting, so we don’t say a thing. I think that by this point, all of his and Chanyeol’s mutual friends (which just happens to be all of their friend group) has realized that there’s tension between the two, but while I see Baekhyun shooting Jongdae confused glances (which he does a good job of politely ignoring, not even turning back to look), there are no more words exchanged.

Class hasn’t started yet, so I lean over to talk to Jongdae. “You guys can’t do this forever.”

His jaw tightens slightly at the mention of Chanyeol. “No,” he agrees. “But I’m not going to back down first.”

I frown. “Are you really Kim Jongdae?”

The joke doesn’t get to him. “You know,” he starts, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. And maybe it’s okay sometimes, but what he did… well, it wasn’t. He was obviously trying to make both of us uncomfortable, and he crossed a line. I don’t want to give in and pretend everything’s alright.”

It’s not the method or why I would have suggested him to stop letting people trample all over him, but then again, it’s a start and he’s right. Chanyeol needs to understand, and from what I see, he still hasn’t yet.

“Well,” I say. “It’s good that you’re doing that. But what about… what about the rest of your friends? Do they know what happened?”

Jongdae doesn’t even look back at them. He has an awful amount of self-control that I don’t think I’ll ever have. “Not exactly,” he replies. “I’m sure they’re smart enough to figure out that something’s gone wrong, though.”

“Are you really injured?”

“So many questions,” he shoots back, then laughs slightly. “Yeah. Sprained my wrist trying to lift something heavy. Although I actually didn’t get a doctor diagnosis. I just iced it and then left it at that.”

“As long as it’s better?” I say, though before he can reply, class starts, and that is apparently that.

***

I’m a bit surprised when Jongdae says we can go back to his house, given that the last time I was there, the encounter with his mom seemed didn’t seem to leave Jongdae in the best of moods. I’d think that he would stop inviting me because he’s never been the risk taker kind of person, but for whatever reason, I’m standing at the door of Jongdae’s apartment at four thirty instead of waiting for him at the basketball courts.

Jongdae unlocks the door and I follow him instead hesitantly. Then, against all better judgement, I ask, “Is your mom not home?”

He glances at me. “She has a schedule tonight,” he says, tone nonchalant, although I can’t help but wonder just how faked it is. “I don’t think… well, she’s not supposed to be home until eleven.”

I’m pretty sure that’s what he said the last time, but I don’t question more but instead make my way into the living room. “I’ll get you a drink,” Jongdae calls, and I settle down, ready to pull out all of the work we need to finish by tonight.

Instead, what catches my eye is the leather bound book on the tea table. I don’t think it was there the last time—if it was, I didn’t notice—but now that I see it, it’s impossible to look away. At the same time, I know that he’ll be back any moment and picking it up feels like an obvious intrusion of privacy, so I end up staring at the cover of the book.

It’s obviously a photo album. There’s a picture (it’s not very clear, the quality blurry), but I can make out a boy, maybe five or six, with his arms crossed, chin lifted, and beaming at a camera except looking in the wrong spot. It’s not very easy to tell, but it’s still possible—it’s definitely Jongdae.

He enters the room holding two cups, and somehow, immediately manages to notice what I’m looking at. I attempt to turn my attention back to my laptop, but Jongdae’s caught on already and it’s too late to pretend it’s anything else.

There’s a slight cling when he sets the glass on the table. “Are you just going to stare at it?”

I blink in surprise. “What?”

“You can look at it if you want?” He sits down next to me, then pulls his legs up to sit crossed-legged on the couch. “There’s… I don’t think there’s a lot of pictures, though.”

“Really?” I reach for the photo album cautiously, stil