"Junhui!" he hears a loud (obnoxious) knocking on the front door of his apartment, and Junhui puts down the spatula he's holding, wiping his hands on his apron. The apron had been a birthday gift from Yixuan because Yixuan is tacky like that.  

"JUNHUI!" comes another voice, Yibo's this time. That kid needs to learn the virtue of patience. 

"Hold on," Junhui yells, picking his way through the pile of shoes in front of the door to grab the doorknob. When he swings the door open, he's greeted with a chipper Minghao carrying an apron still wrapped in its plastic package and Yibo clutching his longboard, looking skater boy as ever.  

When they are inside, Minghao quips, "I'm so excited to finally use the apron that my mom made me pack. Like seriously, there's no way I would use this apron in the dorms. The communal kitchen is all the way on the ground floor and we're on the freaking 8th floor." Minghao lets out an exasperated sigh just to emphasize the importance of this occasion.  

"Then do we need some unwrapping ceremony or something for that thing?" Yibo says sarcastically, gesturing to the plastic package slung over Minghao's forearm.  

Junhui claps his hands to get their attention. "Well, in any case, Minghao - you go unwrap that thing and put on an apron and Yibo can just borrow Wenhan's apron. He's away at swim practice so he's not going to be cooking with us. He says he'll just order take-out or buy something from the store to take to the potluck tonight." 

Yibo lets out a relieved sigh. "That's good then. At least no one is going to poisoned at the potluck," he mutters under his breath. Junhui can only raise an eyebrow in amusement but he secretly agrees. Wenhan always has a way of cooking up something questionable, putting together weird combinations of foods. Wenhan would claim that he is Master Chef worthy, but Junhui would know from living with him that the truth is a little more far off, to put it nicely.  

They are finally situated in the kitchen, everyone looking spiffy in their aprons. If Yixuan were here, he would dive into creepy-parent mode and whip out his camera to capture this surely-iconic image. Good thing that Yixuan already finished cooking earlier today and is off studying in the library.  

Junhui's plan is to teach these youngsters how to cook so that next year when they move out of the dorms into their own apartment, they'll actually be able to survive on their own without draining their precious bank accounts on the (granted, super delicious) restaurant food in town. Cooking is a necessity, according to Junhui. 

"First menu, fried rice!" Junhui declares. 

"Don't worry, I got this," Yibo rubs his hands together, a confident smirk settling on his lips. "How hard could it be?" 

"Oh yeah, I totally know how to make this," Minghao agrees, high-fiving Yibo in a show of random camaraderie.  

Junhui humors them, placing his hands on his hips. "Okay, take it away then. Rice is in that cabinet and here's the rice cooker. First gotta make the rice and then we can fry it in the pan with other vegetables and eggs and stuff." 

Judging from their confident expressions, Junhui takes a chance to go outside to get his phone that he left on his desk. It is a mistake. When he comes back, the rice cooker bowl is halfway filled with water. And only water. 

"Kids, what are you doing?" 

Minghao looks up, eyes innocent. Seriously? He's trying to become a doctor and he doesn't even know how to make rice? "Making rice," is his matter-of-fact answer. 

Yibo is almost going to pour a few cups of rice into the water, and Junhui has to block him with his arm. "Whoa, hold on," Junhui says incredulously. "I'm pretty sure people usually put in the rice first and then pour in the water." 

Yibo just stares at him, and then proceeds pouring in the rice. Junhui sighs in resignation. "I mean, I guess this works too. Just make sure you know how much you put in so you know how much water there should be." 

When the rice cooker is finally happily chugging away doing its thing, Junhui demonstrates how to quickly stir-fry some carrots (after they've managed to not cut themselves with knives while chopping them up). "Got it?" He asks. "You can try cooking the rest of the broccoli that's on the cutting board over there." 

"Easy peasy," Yibo flashes an "okay" sign, nodding. However, he pours in way too much oil and the stove is too hot and the oil starts jumping out of the pan. Minghao screams, trying to pour in a cup of water into the pan, just by reflex, thinking it would make it better. It only causes more steam to plume out of the pan, so he screams again. 

Junhui swears he hears another scream too. A girl's. 

"WHAT. IS GOING ON." Junhui turns around. Ah, it's Tzuyu. He must have accidentally left the door unlocked.  

Before even saying hello to the girl, Junhui shoves the two freshmen boys out of the way to fix the mess, turning down the stove and opening up the windows. Yibo looks thoroughly shocked by the whole fiasco. "Well. Didn't expect that to happen."  

Junhui groans. No, duh. Tzuyu disagrees. "I totally expected something like that to happen," she shrugs. "I mean, put two fetuses who don't know how to cook in a kitchen and something is bound to go wrong." 

"Excuse you," Minghao shoots back. "We are both older than you!" 

"Fetus, my ," Yibo grumbles. "You're the one who's a fetus." 

"At least I actually go to class," Tzuyu replies. "Shows a lot about your maturity level." 

Junhui groans again. Seriously, kids these days. "I don't know too much about maturity levels, but I certainly don't see that here in this excuse of a conversation," Junhui raises his voice, planting his feet firmly on the kitchen tiles. "Please, we're just trying to make fried rice. How hard could it be?" 

"Isn't that what I asked?" Yibo mumbles. 

"Well that certainly didn't turn out well," Tzuyu says in response. 

With Junhui's guidance and Tzuyu's helpful hand, Minghao manages to finish cooking the rest of the fried rice, donning his precious apron gifted by his mother back in the homeland. Yibo is left to look curiously through the refrigerator because that is what any respectable hungry freshman boy does.  

"Did Yixuan make pork chops?!" Yibo suddenly exclaims, pointing to a glass tray full of pork chops braised in soy sauce. His previously sullen expression has brightened considerably. "Can I try one? Just one. I'm starving." He barely gives Junhui a chance to answer (it would've been a firm no) before grabbing a plate and taking one pork chop out to microwave. Junhui feels his resolve crumbling, especially when Yibo takes a bite and looks absolutely in bliss. The poor kid. 

He hears the door to their apartment swing open (the hinges, after all, are not very well-oiled). It's Yixuan. Junhui's eyes briefly flash over to the incriminating pork chop that stains Yibo's fingers. Here we go. 

"Yibo..." Yixuan's voice resounds through the kitchen. Yixuan flings his heavy backpack across to the living room floor. "Is that one of my pork chops?" 

Yibo pauses, midway through a bite. He doesn't exactly have a sheepish look on his face. He just calmly continues through his bite and chews the meat thoroughly. "It's really good! Good job." A thumbs up from the freshman, eyes smiling. "One day I hope to be able to cook like you," he compliments with a mouth full of food. 

Minghao and Tzuyu snicker in the background. 

Yixuan only raises an eyebrow, not swayed at all by Yibo's efforts of kissing up to him. "Kid, one does not simply take someone's pork chops without asking first. Where are your manners?!" 

Yibo gives a resigned sigh. His eyes shift. "Sorry," he mumbles (then proceeds to finish the rest of his pork chop). Yixuan merely shakes his head. 

"Wait, Yixuan ge," comes a voice next to them. Minghao has a hopeful look in his eyes. "Can I have a pork chop?" he asks sweetly, a playful smile on his lips. 

Yixuan blinks. Junhui can see him visibly gulp. "Sure," Yixuan gives in. "At least you asked nicely before just rudely taking one." Yixuan glares at the other freshman boy. "See Yibo, why can't you be more like Minghao?" he asks as Minghao happily skips toward the microwave with a pork chop of his own. 

Yibo just sulks, slumping down onto a couch in the living room. Junhui sort of feels bad for him. Especially when Tzuyu also manages to snag a pork chop after begging Yixuan with a flutter of her eyelashes. Yibo scowls, but the scowl disappears as soon as it appears, leaving Tzuyu to just pat him comfortingly on the shoulder. Junhui throws a pack of rice crackers at him in order to placate him.  

There's only a few hours until the Chinese New Year potluck now, so all the freshmen decide to leave to get some "work" done first. He doesn't know who they think they're kidding, but Junhui's glad that at least they're gone now so the apartment can be at peace again. Honestly, he doesn't know why he invites them over when just having Wenhan wreaking havoc in the kitchen on a daily basis is enough already. 

He yawns. Right about now seems a good time for a nap, he thinks to himself.

author's note: installation number 2! The best part of this chapter might have been Minghao and his apron and Yibo sulking.