The first time Kyungsoo had ever seen Jongin dance, it was not on a stage or even at one of his SM trainee practices. It had been in the comfort of Kyungsoo’s kitchen. Kyungsoo had been making them after school snacks (peanut butter sandwiches and apples) when the radio song switched. Jongin’s head, which had been leaning against the refrigerator, flew up at the opening chords of the orchestra.

Kyungsoo blushed furiously. “Sorry, my mom likes to listen to classical music while she cooks.”

But Jongin shook his head at his apology. He peeled his body away from Kyungsoo’s, floating towards the middle of the kitchen floor. The look in his eyes had shifted.

“You know this song?” Kyungsoo asked quizzically, watching Jongin’s body soften and then tense, arms coming up to float around his body in a well-practiced pose.

“‘Waltz of the Flowers.’” Jongin nodded.

“How…?”

“I took ballet lessons in middle school,” Jongin explained simply. His right foot came in front of his left, both pointing outwards in a bold fashion. His arms moved to circle naturally downwards, fingers relaxed. “Third position.” He turned delicately, left arm raising itself proudly above his head, right arm relaxing horizontally outwards. “Fourth position.”

The music picked up, the violins singing their melodies out sweetly. Jongin also quickened his movements; as the clarinets sweeped over the intricate notes, Jongin leaped and spun, his legs lifting and arms caressing the air around him. His eyes were closed, and the way his dark eyelashes looked against the smoothness of his high cheekbones was absolutely beautiful.

Kyungsoo couldn’t take his eyes off of Jongin.

At that moment, the front door opened, and Kyungsoo’s mother walked straight into the scene. Jongin immediately stopped dancing, hands falling to his sides and a bright flush creeping on to his face. Kyungsoo braced himself for the inevitable.

“Jongin!” His mother cried, tugging Jongin into a suffocating hug. “How have you been, sweetheart?”

“Hello, Auntie,” Jongin greeted her politely, obediently calling her by the nickname she so fondly insisted on.

“Mom, you’re embarrassing me,” Kyungsoo hissed through gritted teeth, trying to rescue Jongin from his mother.

Kyungsoo’s mother released Jongin. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop bothering you two.” She winked knowingly at Kyungsoo, who could feel his ears burning red. He regretted telling his mother about his little (big) crush on Jongin. Kyungsoo seized their snacks and dragged Jongin to his room.

“You boys have fun!” His mother called after them.

“I’m so sorry,” Kyungsoo muttered once they were safely away from the eyes of his parent. “She’s very… enthusiastic.”

“I like your mom a lot,” Jongin said happily. “She’s so friendly.”

“Yeah.” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. If only Jongin knew it was because she already considered Jongin her son-in-law. “Really friendly.”

“Seriously.” Jongin nudged Kyungsoo with his elbow. “Don’t bug her about it too much. I like it.”

That was another thing Kyungsoo liked about Jongin. His kindness. But the list was nearly endless: Kyungsoo liked Jongin’s kindness, his respectfulness towards adults, his hugs, how he napped on other people’s shoulders, his passion for dance, his innocent sense of humor, his laugh, the redness of his cheeks when he got cold, his love for dogs, his natural aegyo, the way his voice got louder when he was excited, his attentive, caring nature, his smile—

Kyungsoo liked Jongin. So much. To the point where it scared him a little, since he had never felt this way before. One-sided love was scary, but rejection was also scary. However, the scariest thing of all was the idea that one day, Jongin might feel the way that Kyungsoo did... but to someone else.

Because the thing that Kyungsoo liked the most about Jongin was when Jongin was with Kyungsoo.

It is finally Wednesday. Even though Kyungsoo can barely keep his body from falling forward on his desk from pure exhaustion, the anticipation of seeing Jongin sends warmth through his body. It has been so long since he has last seen Jongin in person, and the excitement has him bouncing his knee, impatient for the school day to be over. But despite his antsiness, he dutifully transcribes the professor’s lecture into his notebook, underlining the topics that he thinks will be on their test next week—

“We finished the exam material more quickly than expected, so the test will be moved up to this Friday,” The professor announces. The whole class lets out a collective groan. Kyungsoo’s neighbors are grumbling at this inconvenience, cursing the lecturer under their breath. But Kyungsoo’s mouth hangs open in a silent scream. Two days from now?

“Sir,” A girl towards the front calls timidly, raising her hand slightly. “Don’t you think that’s a little unfair?”

Kyungsoo straightens up, a hopeful look creeping on his face.

“No?” The professor raises an eyebrow. “All of you should have been studying throughout this unit. The test is on Friday, and there will be no exceptions.”

With that, the professor turns off the projector; they all know that that means they are dismissed. The other students pack up to leave, whining, but Kyungsoo is still frozen in his seat. It feels as if something cold has crashed into the warmth from his excitement, leaving him with an odd, searing sensation and an erratic heart. The injustice of it all has his head spinning.

Kyungsoo wants to cry. It’s so unfair.

Shakily, he stuffs his things into his backpack and walks out of the room. His hands move to his pocket, slipping out his cellphone to check the time. 5:03 PM. He is— was— supposed to meet Jongin in four hours.

Stopping in the hallway, he digs out the class syllabus and reads over the number of lectures that will be on Friday’s test: chromosomal structure, DNA replication, transcription, and transduction, DNA repair, genetic mutation, genetic variation, genetic analysis, mitosis, meiosis, the cell cycle. There is no way that he can meet Jongin tonight.

As he leaves the academic building and makes his way to his apartment, he sends a text to Jongin, asking if he is busy and if Kyungsoo can call him. Before Kyungsoo is even halfway home, his phone lights up, vibrating with an incoming call.

“Hello?” Kyungsoo answers, looking around anxiously to see if anyone is eavesdropping.

“Kyungsoo hyung!” Jongin exclaims. Kyungsoo can hear the muffled sound of music in the background. Jongin must have called him in the middle of their practice. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing like that, Jonginnie,” Kyungsoo reassures him, then biting his lip to see if anyone caught that last bit. Fortunately, no one walking around him seems to be paying attention.

“You only use pet names when you’re trying to tell me something that I won’t like,” Jongin says blankly.

Kyungsoo’s hand tightens around his phone. “I mean— It was out of my control—”

“Just say it quickly, hyung, I won’t be mad.”

Jongin’s voice is so soft and understanding. It reminds Kyungsoo of late Sunday mornings, legs tangled up together in bed, and the sensation of Jongin’s head tucked underneath his chin. He coughs, willing away those gray memories. “I don’t think I can make it to our date tonight.”

“Why?” Jongin asks, his tone verging on a plea.

“My idiot professor moved our test up by six days,” Kyungsoo moans. “I want to sue for abuse.”

Jongin is quiet for a moment. Then he asks, voice jokingly gruff, “Do you want me to call my lawyer?”

Kyungsoo laughs. The tension fades out of his shoulders, and he feels light for what seems like the first time in years. “Modern romance at its finest.”

“This ,” Jongin grumbles. “I want to see you.”

“I want to see you too.” Kyungsoo sighs. “We’ll meet up next week for sure.”

“Okay.” There is a shuffling sound. “I have to go. Junmyeon hyung is giving me the evil eye.”

“Fighting.”

“Thank you. Text me after your test. Bye, hyung.”

Kyungsoo hangs up. Despite the noise of the city, with cars blaring their horns and people raising their voices to be heard over the chaos of the world, he suddenly seems very alone.

That night, Kyungsoo studies and studies and studies. Though his stomach is screaming at him to eat, little arrows of searing pain shoot through his shoulders, and his vision is starting to blur from how tired he is, he continues to study. When he feels like he is going to collapse, he just studies.

At one point early in the morning, when he is so exhausted that he is past the point of headaches and can only feel numbness, he stumbles to the kitchen to get a drink of water and slumps against the refrigerator. Against his will, he finds his eyes closing.

Behind his eyelids, in the darkness, all he sees is Jongin.

He doesn’t want to disappoint Jongin ever again. He wants to improve.

Opening his eyes, Kyungsoo gets up.

Three months after meeting him, Do Kyungsoo realized that there was nothing he had ever wanted more than Kim Jongin.

Immediately after he had this epiphany, Kyungsoo abandoned his homework and sat very quietly on his bed for over an hour, thinking to himself. It was only when the sun had set and the moon was out that he made up his mind.

Jumping up, Kyungsoo tugged off his sweats and yanked on a nice pair of jeans. He also traded his ratty old t-shirt for a nice buttondown that his aunt had sent him for Christmas. His nerves were eating away at his insides, so he focused not on what was about to happen but on doing up his buttons slowly, one by one. Grabbing his wallet and phone, he bolted out of his room and down the stairs.

Unfortunately, he was caught at the front door.

“Where are you going?” His older brother, Seungsoo, asked, taking in Kyungsoo’s nice outfit with a raised eyebrow.

Kyungsoo flushed red. “N-Nowhere.”

“Doesn’t look like nowhere to me,” Seungsoo mused. He crossed his arms. “Do I have to get Mom and Dad?”

Kyungsoo shook his head frantically. “No! I’m just… ummm…” He dropped his voice to an embarrassed mumble. “I’m just going to visit Jongin.”

Realization dawned on his brother’s face. It was impossible for him not to understand; anyone who was close to Kyungsoo could tell how he felt about Jongin by the way he talked about him. A bright, proud smile split across Seungsoo’s face. Crossing the hallway to the coat closet, he threw a jacket at Kyungsoo, who caught it on reflex. “Dress warmly. It’s still a little cold.”

“Thank you, hyung!” Kyungsoo yelled over his shoulder before disappearing out the door.

As Kyungsoo ran to the subway station, he slowed to a stop near the neighborhood flower shop. The bright colors in the window display had caught his eye; suddenly, he was very aware of how empty-handed he was. Grinning to himself, he slipped inside of the store.

The worker inside of the store raised his head at the sound of the bell, announcing Kyungsoo’s entrance. He looked somewhat surprised to see this new customer; it probably wasn’t often that a panting, slightly sweaty high school freshman boy came inside this shop. “Can I help you?” He asked, smiling hesitantly.

“I, uh, want to buy flowers.” Kyungsoo resisted the urge to slam his hand against his forehead. The worker (Minseok, according to his nametag) probably thought he was an idiot.

Minseok laughed pleasantly; it was a nice sound, and Kyungsoo found himself relaxing. “Well we are in a flower shop,” He teased gently. “What’s the occasion?”

“I…” Kyungsoo blushed. “I’m going to confess to the person I like.”

Minseok looked even more startled by that statement. He watched Kyungsoo stare back at him, a determined light behind the young boy’s eyes. Then, he smiled. “Did you know flowers have a language of their own?” He asked, leaving behind the pots he had been working on to cross the store.

“N-No,” Kyungsoo answered truthfully, taken back by this seemingly random turn in conversation.

“Well, now you know.” Minseok winked at him. He pulled out a pair of scissors from the cream apron tied around his waist and snipped at the plant in his hand. Then, he handed the single flower by its stem to Kyungsoo. “White carnation,” He explained simply. “Free of charge.”

The flower was pure white and composed of delicate ruffles, layered one on top of the other. It was absolutely perfect. Kyungsoo gulped, shaking his head to free himself from the spell that it had placed on him. “Thank you so much!” He bowed to Minseok before scurrying out of the flower shop.

The subway ride took an eternity, yet was over in the blink of an eye. Soon, Kyungsoo was in front of Jongin’s house with no plan at all: only a burning desire to tell Jongin everything. He carefully pulled his phone out of his back pocket; his hands were shaking.

“Hello? Kyungsoo hyung?”

“Jongin. I… I’m in front of your house.”

There was a crashing noise in the background. It sounded suspiciously like Jongin had fallen off of his bed, and Kyungsoo had to hide a smirk at Jongin’s attempt to sound casual. “Oh… oh really? Do you need something?”

“I just have to talk to you for a moment.” Kyungsoo closed his eyes.

“I’ll come down now.”

When the front door opened and Jongin stepped out of the house, he was clad in a pair of blue and white striped pajamas. A blanket was draped around his shoulders; Kyungsoo wondered if he had been about to go to sleep. “Hey, Kyungsoo hyung,” Jongin greeted him. Despite his relaxed appearance, his expression was focused and alert. “Why are you here?”

Kyungsoo held up the flower. Jongin’s eyes went straight to it, widening dramatically. “I’m about to confess to the person I like,” Kyungsoo told him, grinning.

Jongin’s face drained of all color. He tugged the blanket tightly around his body, lowering his eyes to the ground. “Th-That’s great! I’m really happy for you!”

“Thank you. I’m happy too.”

Kyungsoo watched Jongin carefully; he looked rather shaken. The younger was trying to force a smile on his face, but it was more of a grimace than anything else.

Wordlessly, Kyungsoo held out the white carnation to Jongin. The latter’s head flew up. He bit his lip and took the flower. Turning it over in one hand to look at it, Jongin asked lightly, “So, do I get to know which lucky girl gets this?”

“It’s for you, Jongin.”

Jongin stared at Kyungsoo. His mouth opened in shock.

“The person I like…” Kyungsoo swallowed, steeling his nerves. “It’s you.” He gave Jongin a small smile. “I can’t promise that it will always be you… but right here, right now, it’s you.”

Jongin still couldn’t speak.

Kyungsoo grinned weakly. “Surprise? I’m gay? And I like you?”

“I like you too,” Jongin whispered. He hid his face in his arms, the flower brushing against his cheek. “I like you so much.”

Kyungsoo couldn’t keep the beam off of his face. “Will you be my boyfriend, Jongin?”

“I thought you would never ask.”

And Kyungsoo fell a little deeper for Jongin after that night of shy confessions, sweet hugs, and the scent of flowers hanging in the air around them.

The sunlight that floods in through the tall windows of the library is making Kyungsoo drowsy, but he rubs the sleepiness of out of his eyes and bends his body closer to the cellular biology textbook. Idly, he plays with the sleeve of his shirt as he reads about the structure of actin filaments.

In a flash, Zitao bats his hand away from the fabric, hissing a little as he does. Kyungsoo barely even looks up, moving his hand obediently to its original position but refusing to take his attention away from his studies. Once he is certain that Kyungsoo will not fidget anymore, Zitao returns to his sketching, looking up occasionally to scrutinize at the boy across the table from him and then ducking back down to erase and then redraw.

Kyungsoo has turned down several of Zitao’s offers to hang out during the past two weeks, so he has found himself unable to say no when the boy popped up at the library and asked to sketch Kyungsoo for his class while he studied. Zitao said that it would be very easy, and that Kyungsoo would barely even notice that he was here; however, Kyungsoo should have known that that wouldn’t be the case.

“Leave your arm on the table! I can’t just erase your entire arm whenever you move it!” Zitao whines, throwing himself across the table for the umpteenth time to rearrange Kyungsoo’s body.

“Why are you taking a drawing class again?” Kyungsoo asks exasperatedly, rubbing his arm where Zitao, in his artistic fervor, grabbed it a bit forcefully.

“I took on a Fine Arts minor, remember?” Zitao shades in the shadow under Kyungsoo’s neck… and then looks up when Kyungsoo fails to answer. “You seriously didn’t know?” His eyebrows knit close together. “I could have sworn I mentioned it to you a month ago.”

“I… I think I remember you saying something about that.”

“You’re a terrible liar, hyung,” Zitao says simply. “But I forgive you. You’ve been busy. Just don’t forget about me, okay?”

“Of course not,” Kyungsoo promises, puzzled. He tries to go back to his biology readings, but he finds his gaze straying back to Zitao. It doesn’t make sense to him, the “don’t forget about me” part. Surely Zitao knows that he is important to Kyungsoo. A part of him wants to bring it back up, but the younger has his tongue in between his teeth as he fills in Kyungsoo’s eyebrows with quick, precise , and Kyungsoo doesn’t want to break his concentration. So he lets the topic be shelved among all of the other conversations that he will have one day when he is less busy.

They work in silence for a few more minutes, when suddenly Zitao slams his pencil on the table and shoves his hands through his hair. Surprised, Kyungsoo nearly falls off his chair; his knee hits against the desktop, and his book falls on the ground. Ducking under the table, he picks up the now-shut textbook.

But before he can find his lost page, Zitao looks up at him, mouth pressed together in frustration and eyes distracted. “Do you believe in love?”

Caught off guard, Kyungsoo opens his mouth to answer... then closes it. Again, he opens it and manages to stammer out, “I think I do.”

“So you think love is real?”

“I think so.” It feels like something is squirming in his chest, and Kyungsoo wants to stop talking and hole up his emotions again. But something about the desperate light that burns in Zitao’s eyes pushes his words forward. “There are lots of different types of love. Love for your parents, love for your friends, love for… your significant other. And if you think you love them, then there is no one who can tell you otherwise.”

“Do you think people can fall out of love?”

Kyungsoo blinks, eyes clouding. He takes a moment to collect himself before answering. “I think if you really loved someone or something, then you can never forget that feeling. So… no. Even if you grow to hate the person, deep down inside, there will always be a little love left.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

Kyungsoo opens his mouth to answer that no, he does not, but suddenly the only thing that he can think about is two years ago when Jongin kissed the ring finger of his left hand and promised to love him forever. And then he wants to answer that yes, he does believe in them, but then he remembers how he turned down Jongin’s offer to video chat last night because he was too tired.

“I don’t know.”

Zitao’s eyes flicker down into his lap and then back up at Kyungsoo. His hands slip down from the table to ball into fists on top of his knees. “I met someone.”

“Uh oh,” Kyungsoo teases, flipping through his book to find the discarded section on cell structure.

“He’s in my drawing class. We just clicked, I guess…. He’s just— he’s really—” Zitao lets out an aggravated exhale, hands flying back to ruffle his hair. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

And then from the corner of his eyes, Kyungsoo sees Park Chanyeol. It’s obvious that the taller has spotted him too: he freezes in his path, turns a little red, and then leaves in the direction he just came from. There is a sudden pressure at the base of Kyungsoo’s throat, and he averts his stare as quickly as he can. He hasn’t seen Chanyeol in several months.

But the regret will always be there.

“Kyungsoo…?” Zitao calls his name tentatively, eyes clouding when he realizes that his friend is distracted. “Am I boring you?”

“N-No!” Kyungsoo shakes his head, willing away the pain inside his chest. “I’m listening.”

Zitao gives him a long look, a different type of insecurity now touching his expression. “Does it make you uncomfortable that I’m gay?”

“What?” Kyungsoo asks, bewildered. “How does that make any sense, you know that I’m—”

And then he stops. Because Zitao doesn’t know anything about his uality.

“That you’re what?”

“... I’m your friend,” Kyungsoo amends. “You can tell me anything.”

But Zitao is already packing his things up with a hardened expression. Kyungsoo knows him well enough to see the little traces of disguised hurt in his face: the redness of his nose, the way his eyes shine. “It’s nothing, really. I was being insensitive. Of course you wouldn’t understand.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder and then pauses. “I love you a lot, Kyungsoo. You’re one of my closest friends.”

Zitao leaves. Kyungsoo buries his head in his arms and silently screams.

During his middle school years, if Kyungsoo had been asked to rank his five most important, self-defining life memories, the time when Park Yura had gotten mad at him and Chanyeol would have definitely made the list.

Not because it had been entertaining to see Yura red-faced and screaming. Though that part had been pretty funny to Chanyeol, it had terrified Kyungsoo. It was because of what had happened afterwards, something that would follow him through the years and shape his confidence as a person (and later, tear it down completely).

When Yura was out of the house, Chanyeol had stolen into her room and come out with a dozen different red lipsticks. Never having had a sister, Kyungsoo had been wary at first, but Chanyeol had convinced him that it would be fine.

“I mean, one of these things is probably like 2,000 won at the grocery story,” Chanyeol said, uncapping it to scrutinize the color.

“Y-S-L,” Kyungsoo read slowly. “Did this come from overseas?”

“Lots of things come from overseas,” Chanyeol reasoned, shrugging it off. “This is a brilliant idea. Trust me on this, Kyungsoo.”

And Kyungsoo trusted Chanyeol with his life. So it was a complete surprise to him when Yura came raging into their room, shrieking her head off, and nearly cried when she saw the emptied lipstick bottles and watery, red homemade paint that they were using to decorate their club sign. It turned out that those lipsticks were not worth 2,000 won but 36,000, and that Chanyeol had been wrong.

“Sisters,” Chanyeol said with great feeling after Yura had stormed back out. The painting had been abandoned. “How would I have known that?”

“Do you like having a sister?” Kyungsoo asked.

“Not when she acts like that,” Chanyeol grumbled.

“Have you ever wanted a brother?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “Not really, no.”

“Why not?”

Chanyeol grinned at him, that grin that Kyungsoo had come to adore so much, with all of Chanyeol’s teeth showing, one eye shrinking more than the other, and the glow of his whole face. “I already have you. You’re basically my brother.”

Kyungsoo threw an arm around Chanyeol’s shoulders for a hug. The latter knocked his head against his playfully. “No matter what happens, I will always be your friend.”

And Kyungsoo had trusted Chanyeol.

So that is what drove Kyungsoo to ask Chanyeol, two weeks after he had confessed to Jongin, if he could come over to his house.

“We haven’t hung out in forever!” Chanyeol greeted him enthusiastically, wrestling him into a hug and then letting him plop down on to his bed while he dug out his XBox controllers. “My aunt got me this new game, but I haven’t opened it yet because I wanted to play it together—”

“Actually, I have something to tell you,” Kyungsoo interrupted him quickly. His hands were clasped tightly together as he tried to get control over his nerves.

Chanyeol looked taken back, but the smile was still plastered on his face. “Okay, okay.” He sat on the ground, legs crossed over each other, and set aside the electronics. “I’m listening.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes went over each of his features: his dark hair, his pure, sincere eyes, his round nose, his pink lips. This is Chanyeol, He told himself. This is my best friend. He promised to love me no matter what. But still, he remained silent.

When Kyungsoo failed to tell him right away, Chanyeol’s grin had flickered and then completely faded. “Is something wrong, Kyungsoo?”

“We will always be friends, right?” Kyungsoo asked, unable to hide the desperation in his voice.

“Of course,” Chanyeol answered, confused.

“Chanyeol—”

He could feel the tears pricking at his eyes, just like they had when he had told his parents, the first time he had ever came out. But he refused to cry this time. That time, he had been so uncertain of the reaction he would receive. This time, this time he knew for sure. This time, Chanyeol would just blink a couple times with those big eyes of his and then ask Kyungsoo why he ever worried about telling him, that of course his uality didn’t matter, that they were best friends—

“Chanyeol, I’m gay.”

The room was silent. Chanyeol’s face was blank. Kyungsoo’s nose hurt.

And then Chanyeol grinned.

“This is a joke, right? Come on, seriously, Kyungsoo.”

“It’s not a joke,” Kyungsoo said quietly. His mind hadn’t quite registered the words yet, but his chest was starting to hurt.

“What do you mean? How can it not be a joke?” Chanyeol’s voice was becoming too loud. “This isn’t funny, Kyungsoo, knock it off.”

Kyungsoo didn’t laugh.

“You’re serious,” Chanyeol whispered. The horrified tone of his words made Kyungsoo flinch. “You’re actually gay.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is a bad thing!” Chanyeol said incredulously. “How did this happen? Is it because of Kim Jongin? I knew there was something wrong with that kid—”

“Don’t talk about him that way,” Kyungsoo said sharply.

“Why are you defending him?” Chanyeol laughed hollowly. “Is he your new best friend now? Or is he your boyfriend?”

Kyungsoo lifted his chin. “Yes, he’s my boyfriend.”

Chanyeol wasn’t laughing anymore. “I’m sorry, Kyungsoo. I’m sorry, but I… I can’t.”

“After everything we’ve been through, you hate me because I’m gay?” Kyungsoo realized he was crying from the wetness on his cheeks. “How little did our friendship mean to you, Park Chanyeol?”

“It’s unnatural!” Chanyeol yelled. “A guy liking a guy… that’s disgusting!”

They both fell quiet after Chanyeol’s outburst.

“I’ll just see myself out,” Kyungsoo said.

He stood up and walked out the door.

The whole time, he found himself wishing that Chanyeol would call his name or stop him. But that’s the funny thing with relationships: they end more easily than they begin.

There is a text from Luhan waiting for Kyungsoo after class, but Kyungsoo has to decline his offer to talk on the phone. He really is sorry; Luhan is one of his closest, most important friends, but there is frankly too much for him to do. Calling Luhan will have to wait until later.

It is Wednesday, but Jongin and Kyungsoo have already agreed to video chat instead of their usual car date. Kyungsoo is too busy and too stressed to meet with Jongin, but cancelling their dates rides too much on his conscience, so this is the compromise they have made.

(One that they have started to make too many times.)

He hasn’t checked his mail in a long time, so he drops by student services on his way to the library. His hand robotically turns the familiar combination of the lock. Once the mailbox door springs open, he takes a look inside and then groans. So much mail.

Kyungsoo shoves all the letters into his backpack haphazardly, too tired to be careful. But when his hand makes contact with a rougher package, his mind comes back into focus. Curious, he pulls out the mystery object to reveal it to the light: a yellow manila envelope. He turns it over to see the sender. There is only a zip code. He is starting to get a sinking suspicion as to whom this has come from.

He purses his lips and drops the envelope inside his backpack with the rest of the mail. It isn’t urgent. This can wait.

Several hours later, when the sun has long since disappeared past the horizon and Kyungsoo’s neck hurts so much that he can’t breathe properly, he stumbles home from the library. Once safely inside his apartment, he digs out his laptop and sets it up on the kitchen countertop; he might as well multitask and have dinner during his date.

When the water is boiling, Jongin calls Kyungsoo.

“Hey, you!” Jongin chirps as soon as he answers the phone.

But Kyungsoo is too flabbergasted to properly answer. “Wh… Why is everyone with you?”

In the other screen, Jongin is sitting in the their dorm living room. All of the other EXO members are seated around him in their pajamas, grinning cheerfully up at Kyungsoo. Jongin looks around as if he had barely registered the fact that there are two boys at his feet, two others leaning against his arms, and one (Baekhyun) pushing his face way too close into the camera. “Change of pace?”

“Group date!” Sehun yells, throwing his arms around Junmyeon, who tries his best to fend off the maknae’s advances.

Kyungsoo just sighs and pours the water into his cup ramen.

“Ramen again? You know, you’re never going to grow if you eat stuff like that, hyung—”

Jongin kicks Sehun’s back.

“The real reason we are all here,” Baekhyun drawls, taking over the spotlight easily. “Is because we all want to hear what you think of the little surprise we sent you.”

When Kyungsoo looks up from slurping his noodles, there are six boys staring hopefully back at him. He nearly chokes from surprise, dropping his chopsticks and coughing. “About that…” He finally gasps when he composes himself. “I haven’t opened it yet.”

All of their faces show varying degrees of devastation, but the face that sticks out the most is Jongin’s: disappointed, confused, and hurt.

Kyungsoo’s throat is burning with shame, and so he blurts out, “Because… I wanted to open it in front of you guys!”

Jongin immediately shifts from looking like he was about to cry to looking pleased. “Oh!”

Jongdae isn’t smiling. His eyes are narrowed, and his upper lip presses into the bottom just the slightest bit.  “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” The lie makes Kyungsoo feel queasy. He pushes away his ramen. “Why else?”

Jongdae and Baekhyun exchange glances for a fraction of a second.  “Well, open it now, then,” Baekhyun says.

It almost sounds like a challenge. There is suddenly a strange tension between the two sides of the conversation. “Will do.” Kyungsoo clears out his throat and goes to retrieve the envelope. He shakes it a little, then proceeds to rip the top off. Reaching inside, he pulls out a narrow slip of paper.

A VIP EXO concert ticket.

“It’s mostly a formality, of course,” Junmyeon explains. “You don’t have to stand with the rest of our fans if you don’t want to draw attention. You can watch backstage in the control room.”

“It’s going to be so fun!” Yixing exclaims. “Jongin has worked really hard on this. He even choreographed his solo stage himself!” Next to their Chinese member, Jongin blushes bright red and punches his shoulder in embarrassment, mumbling that it wasn’t that big of a deal. But the way his eyes shine tells a different story.

Everyone is now looking at Kyungsoo for a reply.

His mouth falls open, and then shuts. He is still holding the ticket. It feels heavy in his hand.

“I can’t go,” Kyungsoo finds himself saying. The smile slips off of Jongin’s face.

“Did you even check the date?” Baekhyun snaps, temper flaring. “You seriously can’t spare two and a half hours on a Saturday?”

“It’s not his fault, Baekhyun hyung,” Jongin pleads.

“Baekhyun has a point,” Jongdae points out. “Why are you busy, Kyungsoo? Is it midterms week for you? Finals?”

Kyungsoo glances at the ticket. The day of the concert is one month from now. “No… but school is a trainwreck, you know? I’m busy every day.”

“Every day? Every single day?” Jongdae questions, one eyebrow raising.

“He really is,” Jongin says defensively. “Kyungsoo hyung wouldn’t lie to me.” Kyungsoo’s stomach jolts at that statement. But Jongin is already moving on. “Hyung, do you think you could talk to your professors about an extension? That it’s for a really important event, and you won’t ask them again?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I’m not a celebrity, Jongin. We don’t all get special treatment.”

It is suddenly very quiet. Jongin’s gaze has fallen to his lap. “Oh. Okay,” Jongin says, voice small.

“Are you ing serious, Kyungsoo?” Baekhyun snarls. “Is this really you?”

“Don’t, hyung,” Jongin whispers.

But Baekhyun ignores Jongin. “You want to know why we all joined the video chat? It’s because we knew that you would step all over Jongin when he tried to ask you to come to this event that is actually really, really important to him.”

“‘Step all over’ is a little—”

“Shut up, Jongin,” Baekhyun says irritably. “Stop making excuses for him. We knew, Kyungsoo, that Jongin would never be able to convince you. We thought that if Jongdae and I talked to you, we could get you to come.”

Baekhyun stands up. “But you know what I’ve realized? You care less about Jongin than we thought you did.”

Baekhyun leaves. Jongdae gives Kyungsoo a long stare and then follows the other boy, calling after him. Yixing looks lost as to the abrupt tension between everyone.

“I’m really sorry about that.” Jongin looks like he is going to cry.

“It’s fine,” Kyungsoo says, even though it’s really not.

“I-I’ll talk to him.”

“Do what you want.”

Junmyeon sighs. “Wrap this up, Jongin. We need to talk to Baekhyun.” He gets up, tugging Sehun and Yixing with him. The youngest bites his lower lip as if he wants to say something to Kyungsoo, but Junmyeon pulls him out of the living room.

“I’m sorry, Kyungsoo hyung.” Jongin’s hands come to hide his face. “I should have stopped him.”

“It’s really okay.”

“I…” Jongin’s shoulders are trembling. “What he said isn’t what I believe, okay?”

“Okay.” Kyungsoo feels numb. “I’m really tired, Jongin. I have to go.”

“Bye,” Jongin mumbles right before Kyungsoo hangs up the call.

Kyungsoo stands there for five minutes before dropping the ticket into the trash can and leaving to go study more.

Kyungsoo can still remember what he was wearing the first time Jongin and Baekhyun brought him to their trainee practice.

The outfit details were a bit muddier: a black shirt, most likely, and jeans of some sort. But what he did remember was the red and navy Red Sox cap that he had donned. He had just gotten an embarrassing haircut. It had been way too short in the front, and the ahjumma had completely shaved off his sideburns. Though Jongin had insisted that he was still handsome, Kyungsoo didn’t want Jongin’s friends to forever know him as “the boy with the weird hair”. So he had covered it to the best of his ability and then followed Jongin and Baekhyun, heart beating wildly, to the SM Entertainment building.

The practice room had been dimly lit and dirtier than expected. The mirrors were grubbier than those shown in SM dance videos, fingerprints clearly illustrating their history in this company. Backpacks were piled next to the wall at the back of the room. Four boys were lying around the wooden floor, stretching and playing video games. There was an expensive-looking sound system in the corner, and one of the boys had his iPod connected to it, changing the song that blared out every five seconds.

At the sound of the door opening, all of them glanced lazily up— and then jumped to their feet. Immediately, they swarmed around Kyungsoo. “Is this the friend?” One of them asked, leaning a little too closely into Kyungsoo’s face. His large eyes reminded Kyungsoo of a cat’s for some reason; he was strikingly handsome. “Is this the Kyungsoo we’ve heard so much about?”

“Yes, it is,” Baekhyun laughed, flashing a wide grin. “Guys, guys, don’t suffocate him.”

The boy with the feline eyes gave Kyungsoo one last appraising stare, before throwing an arm around his shoulders. “I have a feeling that we’re going to be good friends,” He announced to the room.

“At least tell him your name first,” Jongin said dryly.

“Kim Jongdae,” The boy said with a flourish, sticking out his hand to the boy he was still hugging.

“Do Kyungsoo,” Kyungsoo murmured, still a little overwhelmed.

“Jongdae, let go of him. He’s never going to come back because of you,” One of the boys scolded. Once Jongdae released him, the same boy offered Kyungsoo his hand. “I’m Kim Junmyeon. It’s really nice to finally meet you. Baekhyun and Jongin talk a lot about you,” He said with absolute sincerity. He had a really pleasant voice. Kyungsoo wondered if he was a vocalist.

“He thinks he can tell us what to do, just because he’s the oldest.” Jongdae rolled his eyes. “You’re not leader, hyung.”

“You don’t know what management has said to me,” Junmyeon said slyly.

Kyungsoo felt a nudge at his arm. He turned and came face to face with a sunny-faced boy. He was smiling down at Kyungsoo, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders scrunched together adorably. There was a deep dimple in his right cheek. “Hello!” He had a thick accent and spoke slowly, and it threw Kyungsoo back to memories of Luhan, pretty and soft-spoken: this boy was also Chinese. “I’m Zhang Yixing! I am pleased to meet you!”

The last boy, who had been the one switching the music rapidly, raised his hand out to Kyungsoo. “And I’m—”

“So as you can see, us five have been told by management that we are most likely to debut together, so we have been training in a group for the past month now,” Jongin said loudly, shoving the boy to the side.

“Not him?” Kyungsoo asked, trying not to stare too much at the sight of Jongin casually wrestling the other boy away from them.

“Well, technically he’s been told that he is a part of our group too,” Jongin said, mock reluctance seeping through his voice. “But we’re going to petition Lee Soo Man to kick him out.”

“We don’t want him,” Jongdae deadpanned.

“You guys ,” The boy complained. He had a slight lisp; it startled Kyungsoo, who hadn’t been expecting it from the stoic-faced, lanky teenager. “I don’t want to debut with any of you.”

The pout on the boy’s face was surprisingly endearing to Kyungsoo, who normally wasn’t affected by aegyo of any sort. Tentatively reaching out a hand, he smiled as comfortingly as he could. “I’m Do Kyungsoo.”

The boy narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Kyungsoo, trying to see if the latter had any intentions of tricking him. When he saw nothing but genuineness, he beamed and dove at Kyungsoo, arms stretched to hug him. “I’m Oh Sehun—”

Suddenly, Sehun tripped over Yixing, who had mindlessly wandered too close. As his boy came crashing down to the ground, his arms caught around Kyungsoo’s body, effectively knocking him over.

“Owww….” Sehun whined, rubbing his head. Jongin rushed to untangle Kyungsoo from Sehun, muttering angrily at the youngest under his breath as he did so. Still dizzy, Kyungsoo clung to Jongin to try and reorient himself.

When Kyungsoo opened his eyes again, Sehun was staring at him. “What happened to your sideburns?” He blurted out.

“What…?” Confused, Kyungsoo touched his head— and felt hair. He looked around wildly and caught sight of his Red Sox cap, lying five feet away. In the chaos of the moment, his hat had fallen off.

Absolutely mortified, Kyungsoo covered the sides of his face with his hands and hid his head between his knees.

“Bad haircut,” He heard Jongin mumbling to the others. “He really didn’t want you guys to see.”

“And why is that?” Jongdae asked loudly. Kyungsoo raised his head hesitantly, looking at the boy with large eyes. Jongdae was staring directly at him. He shrugged once. “It’s just hair. We’re not going to judge you for something like that.”

“You’re our friend!” Yixing exclaimed, flashing his eye smile at Kyungsoo.

“If we picked friends based off of hairstyles,” Junmyeon began dryly. “None of us would be friends with Sehun.”

Sehun was nodding in agreement. “I once came to practice with green hair, and they wouldn’t stop laughing for fifteen minutes.”

“I have a picture!” Baekhyun shrieked with excitement, brandishing his phone in the air like a sword. Sehun jumped to his feet and chased his hyung around, yelling threats at the top of his lungs. Jongin rushed to help Baekhyun, laughing as he holds Sehun back.

“But really,” Kyungsoo turned to see Jongdae crouching next to him, forehead wrinkled in concern. “Did you think we wouldn’t like you because of that?”

Still red, Kyungsoo nodded once. “I’m not… the best… at making friends,” He explained lamely.

Jongdae frowned for a second, nose wrinkling. Then, his face broke into a wide smile. “Well, you have four new ones now.”

Kyungsoo took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” He offered his hand to Kyungsoo. “Now let’s go beat Sehun up for pushing you down.”

Kyungsoo laughed, and Jongdae helped him get back up on his feet.