The ding of the elevator goes off, but before I can even turn around, and I’m sure before the doors are even all the way open, I know who it is.

“Umma!”

Kass.

“Did you just get here?”

No, I’ve just been staring at the lovely design on our door, which I should note, consists of plain flat wood that’s painted an equally plain white.

I keep that thought to myself however, and merely nod my answer as I turn back around to unlock the door. I’m not sure why she can’t just call me Mai. I’ve told my dorm mate countless of times not to use that term, because I am in no means her mother, and even though she obliges temporarily, it eventually slips back into her vocabulary to the point where I don’t even bother anymore. Maybe I’ve learned to tune it out, I don’t know. I ignore it, that’s for sure.

Kass heads to her room and I head to mine, dropping my duffle bag by my bed and shrugging off my hoodie. The room I share with my roommate Fuu is neat and organized, a vast difference from the room next door. I plug in my phone to charge it and quickly check my email on my laptop before heading back into our shared quarters. The kitchen is my second (and longest) stop, and it doesn’t take long before I’m chopping away at the carrots, and whatever other vegetables that lie awaiting their demise. I can hear Kass wandering around in the background, and from the plopping sound that follows I know she’s found her nest on the couch.

“Umma, what looks better? Pairing a beige cowl neck sweater with a wide belt or boat neck three quarter sleeve sweater with a nice necklace?”

I don’t bother looking over to reply. “How long’s the cowl neck?”

“Covering ,” she calls back, and I move the carrots aside and grab the bok choy vegetables.

“The cowl neck would look nice with a dark belt, same with the necklace.” I stop in my actions and look over my shoulder to where Kass is lying on the couch with a book in her hands- in her hands, but no where near actually being read. “What are you supposed to be reading?”

“What?”

I obviously caught her off guard. Her eyes come back down from the ceiling over to me, before she fully registers the question and looks at the book. She even needs to flip back to the cover to check the title, and my eyebrows arch in response.

“Textile Designs: Two Hundred Years of European and American blah, blah, blah. Organized Styles blah, blah, blah. Why do we even need to study something that happened two hundred years ago?”

I turned back and tuned out after the first word- dinner isn’t going to make itself. Not long after, the sound of the door unlocking and being swung open catches Kass’ attention, because the next thing I know her voice sounds more than eager to break the silence that was made so that she could study. Go figure.

“Unni! You’re home.”

Yes, yes she is. Did you have to announce it to the world?

“Hi Kass.” There’s a pause as she walks further into our dorm. “Hi Mai, smells good.”

“Hey Fuu.” I give her a quick nod before I grab the salt and do some sprinkling. “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

“Yup, I’ll set the table. Just give me a few minutes.”

Fuu disappears from the corner of my eye as she makes her way to our room, and I focus my attention back to tossing and mixing the ingredients in the frying pan. When Fuu comes back out, she heads straight for the cupboards and I’m almost done cooking tonight’s dinner, and tomorrow’s lunch.

“Unni!”

This time, I missed the door because the sounds of the stove fan and food frying in the pan are blaring in my ears. I wouldn’t have bothered looking over since I already knew who the last newcomer was, but the new voice actually greets everyone in the room, much to my surprise.

“You’re home early,” Fuu comments from the table, and I turn in time to see Renn taking a seat next to her roommate.

“Didn’t have a lot to do at the office today.”

And suddenly Kass is laughing, and when she uses that term again to get my attention, I know I’m not going to like what follows.

“I saw you and Junho today, looking good. Looks like that perf during the concert is making progress.”

Sometimes I wonder what she does as Coordi-unni’s assistant. I stop myself mid-eye roll, and instead decide to focus my attention on the food that’s about done. I turn the stove fan off, in time to catch Renn’s warning to Kass before the latter’s voice pipes up once again.

“Umma doesn’t mind, don’t you umma? Besides, it’d be great if Junho and umma dated, right?”

Renn is right. It isn’t something you should say to someone who’s making you dinner, and I’m almost tempted to add some extra spices to the plate Fuu set for Kass’ spot at the dinner table.

Renn mutters something to Kass that I’m assuming is another warning, except this time it isn’t about the nickname the maknae decided to give me. Kass always liked to put people together and root for the most likely couple, and here I thought that was only reserved for TV shows and idols. Junho and I are a popular ship item on her list, second only to Taec and Fuu. Since apparently TaecFuu is more of a so-called undercover mission, Junho and I get more of Kass’ public attention. More often than not I wish she wouldn’t bring it up, only cause I’m not the one who has a thing for Junho. Funny, seeing as she was her roommate, I’d figure Kass would have known by now. But then again, it’s not like Renn would ever speak up about it, and I’m in no position to intervene- I don’t really want to, or maybe I don’t really care. Renn’s older than me so she can take care of herself, or at least she should be able to. I wouldn’t know, we don’t really talk.

“So did you hear about the rumors about Khun lately?” Kass asks.

“What about it?” Renn replies, and I know she’s more than happy with the shift in topic.

“So, you know how Khun’s married to what’s-her-face on that God-awful show, right? So there’s rumor around the office that Khun actually has a secret girlfriend. Scandalous!”

What’s-her-face? I let out a sigh. So Victoria got paired with Khun for We Got Married, putting aside the fact that Khun’s not actually single, but what I’m more worried about at the moment is how these rumors start off, which means not everything is underwraps. And how I wish Kass would just tone down her reporter-gossip columnist-self and pay more attention to more important things, like her studies.

One look at Fuu is all I need to know that she doesn’t know yet either. There’s something else in her expression, and it’s enough for me to start speculating.

“Don’t say that Kass, you’re always making rumors worse,” she says as she heads to the refrigerator.

“No I’m not.”

That’s it.

“If you spent half the time you do on all this trash on your studying then maybe you wouldn’t be failing your courses.”

Oops, did I say that out loud?

Kass turns red and sinks further in the couch, and from the seat beside her, I can see Renn dropping her gaze to the floor. From the way her body is ever-so-slightly trembling, it’s obvious she’s trying hard not to laugh, and for some reason, it brings a smirk to my lips, in turn taking the bite out of my comment.

Well, I hadn’t meant it to be that harsh anyway.

-

Preparing for the collab stage for the Style Icon Awards didn’t take as long as I thought it would, seeing as the three performances that were being meshed together already had set routines. There were merely some transitions that needed to be sorted out, and spotting.

“Jun Yup-ssi won’t be coming today, so we can start without him,” Park Namyong, the head choreographer, announces to the group standing idle in the middle of the practice room.

Koo Jun Yup, better known as DJ Koo, was the one who mixed the songs together and played front and centre during the first routine. The six backup dancers for that routine were still present, so it was best not to keep the group waiting.

“Hey Mai-ah,” Namyong calls over to me, “take the middle?”

He means taking Jun Yup-ssi’s center spot in the routine, which makes no sense because you could just as easily leave it empty and still go through practice anyway. I give Namyong a look. “Oppa, I think it’s better if I watch from the side, to make sure everything’s good.” That is my job as assistant choreographer, after all.

“I’ll be doing that, so it’ll be alright.” He hesitates, before he furrows his eyebrows and I quirk mine in response. “Actually,” he says, “I think you’re right. I think it’s best if you don’t dance in the middle.” Another pause. “You might become a distraction.”

A what? I can practically see him laughing through his words and I don’t miss the smirks that manage to appear on several of the guys’ faces either. The urge to roll my eyes comes often during practice, but most of the time I’m able to dwindle it down to a mere sigh. Like now.

Namyong calls everyone to attention and they line up in front of the mirror, before he cues music and my eyes are already looking for mistakes.

“Chansungie....”

“I know, noona,” Chansung wails after they’ve finished the first routine. He flashes me a cross between a pouty and a tired expression and I can’t help the tiny smile that forms on my lips.

It’s not a big mistake, and I’m sure he’ll correct it the second time round. My voice is light with the maknae, always was, always will be. I can’t help it, he’s just a big baby after all.

“It’s five and six, seven and eight,” I say as I simultaneously match the steps to the beat, quickly going over for clarification.

Chansung copies my feet and goes with the count, but on the next run of the routine, he makes another mistake, a few counts later.

“Hyung, I know. It’s just the pause, and Jun Yup-ssi’s not here,” Chansung tells Namyong when it’s the older male that points it out this time.

Jun Yup gets two eight-counts of a solo at the first remixed transition point where the backlayer winds down and only the electronic beats play, and I can already guess what Namyong’s going to suggest next.

“Mai-ah, can you go up front just for this run?”

I wordlessly nod as I move to the sofa and grab Taec’s pacman cap (he gives me a look from where he’s waiting on the sidelines) and place it on my head. I move to the center, and my eyes find Chansung’s in the mirror from beneath the rim of Taecyeon’s hat.

“Chansung-ah, I’m watching you.” My warning isn’t to be taken lightly, and from the way he’s nodding fervently, I know that he knows it too.

Nan by Clon starts in the background and my fingers briefly secure the black and yellow cap on my head before I fall into step with the four 2PM boys and the six backup dancers. My eyes are on Chansung the whole time, trained or forced, I’m not quite sure. The music drops and the electronic beats play, and I’m in the middle with the eight-counts, and when it ends, the rest of the boys smoothly follow through. Chansung hits it right this time, and it’s someone else’s name that gets called instead.

“Wooyoung-ah.”

There isn’t any warning in Namyong’s voice- his tone is soft and it seems more like a light reminder than anything else. Although my eyes were on Chansung the whole time, I didn’t pick up anything off in the movements of the rest of the group, which means Wooyoung must have had a slight misstep, small enough to only be noticed by someone who was looking for it.

“Alright, we’ll try going through the whole thing this time,” Namyong announces, and I immediately retreat to the sides. He gives me another look, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips and I glare at him from beneath the rim of Taec’s cap. My glare means nothing to Namyong though, because he knows I don’t mean it, or at least not as much as the glare entails. He suddenly grins in response, bearing his teeth and this time I can’t stop my eyes from rolling.

I turn back to the boys standing in the middle of the practice room and my eyes briefly land on Wooyoung who, like the rest of them, is readying himself for another round of practice. His head turns towards me just as someone pulls Taec’s hat off my head.

Of course it’s Taecyeon. I lean my head onto my shoulders and he towers over me, pearly whites and everything.

“Who said you could borrow my hat?” he asks in english, eyes still crinkled in his smile.

“Who said I asked?”

My flat response is met with low chuckles. Sometimes I wonder how big Taecyeon’s grin can actually get. His eyes move past me before he nudges me with his shoulder and nods to the front, and I quickly turn back in time to see some heads turning away- as if they weren’t just watching. There’s really only one person that I’m focused on, but he is easily dismissed as I put my attention back on my work.

It takes a few more times before Namyong calls for a break, but not before I tell him that he should be dancing too, seeing as he’s doing backup, and he playfully retorts with, “We should get you doing it too, you’ll be in a suit and tie, but you’ll be dancing in the back, so I won’t have to be worried about distractions.”

My god, part of me wanted to kill him.

The backup dancers are first to leave, and the PM boys take their break before they continue on with the rest of the routine that is only composed of the six. Junho pulls out his notebook, the same notebook that he’s been using to write his lyrics for the song he’s been working on. He bites the bottom of his lip as his already small eyes narrow at the sheet in front of him, and from the way he’s tapping the back of his pencil on his knee, I’m presuming he’s stuck.

“Junho-yah.”

I’m in a pretty good mood, so I take a seat next to him on the couch and he raises his eyes at me in surprise.

“How’s that coming along?”

Junho’s expression doesn’t change, except for maybe a few blinks, and it’s my turn to give him a look.

“What?”

He quickly shakes his head and turns back on his paper. “Nothing, you just surprised me.”

I continue to stare at him even though his eyes are on his sheet. “So how’s that coming along?” I repeat, because Junho has obviously forgotten to answer my question.

“Pretty good,” he replies with a few nods. “Kind of stuck though.”

I reply with a hum, peering over his shoulder at the lyrics. “Need help?” I venture, although I’m no good at writing lyrics myself. I’ve actually never tried, but it was something I would want to try given the chance.

“No, I’m good Mai-ah. Renn-noona’s helping me.”

His tone doesn’t allow for any further discussion, and offering again would just make it seem desperate.

Ouch Junho.

With a purse of my lips I pull myself up from the couch and wander to the middle of the dance studio. Namyong sends me a questioning look, but my eyes are on the clock. I’m just a little bit annoyed, but that’s okay.

This break has been going on for long enough anyway.

I call it out, and I can hear a collective groan coming from all six members. I glance at Namyong to see if he’ll override my decision, but seeing as he hasn’t said anything, I’m assuming I’m okay to move on. And move on I will. I know these boys always complain about how hard I am in practice so I might as well live up to my reputation.

It’s a hard thing to build after all.