He remembers how Seungcheol's hands lay just so on the ground as he slept, fingers curled inwards and tangled in the grass.  He remembers Jeonghan's laugh, muffled into Jisoo's shoulder, because he looks so stupid sleeping like that Jisoo, we should take pictures and send them to his friends. He remembers how  the corners of Seungcheol's lips twitched up. He's dreaming of something nice, Jeonghan, let him be. 

He remembers how Seungcheol and Jeonghan would get into water fights after working in the garden for too long, and how Jisoo had to set his book down on the table because no, Seungcheol, don't throw that, your mom will be mad, and Jeonghan, don't get Seungcheol's hair wet, he's going to get sick. The two of them would give each other wicked looks and then run straight for him, soaking his button-up and new jeans but he somehow didn't care. 

Jisoo remembers, and he doesn't.

What he doesn't remember is why Seungcheol and Jeonghan started coming over three times a week instead of every day, then twice a week, then once and then then never again. He doesn't remember when they started posting pictures of themselves with Chwe Hansol and Kim Mingyu, and the other kids who rode skateboards and hung out at the bus stop behind the mall and made Jisoo feel like a total disaster. He doesn't remember why the last message Seungcheol sent to him was over two months ago, or why Jeonghan's profile pic has been cropped to just him and Seungcheol, with Jisoo's pinkie finger being the only proof that he was ever in that photo.

Or maybe he just doesn't know.

He does know some things. He knows why he sits alone under the staircase in the math hall at lunch. It's because he's a loner, and he wears dorky black cardigans and big round glasses, and the people in the cafeteria look away when he enters because he's weird. He's gay, and not the cool type of gay- not the Seungcheol and Jeonghan, basketball player and talented artist type of gay, but the nerdy gay guy that stays in the library after school. Maybe that's why Seungcheol and Jeonghan don't hang out with him anymore.

"You haven't been talking much lately," says his mother.

She means well, Jisoo reminds himself. She loves you.

"I'm sorry, mom. I've just been busy with schoolwork."

"Seungcheol and Jeonghan never come over anymore. What happened? Did you fight?"

A Chinese song comes on the radio- Drift Away, by Xu Minghao and Wen Junhui. Jisoo likes this song. He wishes he could compose like that.

"No. We just, ah...drifted away, I guess."

"If you say so, dear. How's school?"

"Good, I guess."

"You know, if you want friends, I can find you some. My friend's son at church is a year younger than you. His name is Kwon Soonyoung."

Kwon Soonyoung. He hangs out with Mingyu and his crowd. Jisoo definitely does not like him.

"No, mom, it's fine."

"No, I'll tell him to find you on Monday." 

"Mom, I'm a senior, I already know most of the-"

"Hong Jisoo, just let me do this. I don't want an antisocial son."

Jisoo shuts up, eyes stinging slightly because he's never been able to defy his mother, and now she's going to ruin his already-crushed social life.

"And try to make friends with Seungcheol and Jeonghan again, okay? The Chois and Yoons are going to think we're freaks."

"I'm going to bed." Jisoo gets up from the couch despite the fact that it's seven in the evening.

"Hong Jisoo, don't throw a temper tantrum at me."

Jisoo's heartbeat quickens. Don't panic. "I-I'm not, mom, I swear. I'm just tired."

"Well, remember to close your window fully. I don't want you complaining about a sore throat tomorrow."

"Yes, mom."

Jisoo trudges upstairs with Kwon Soonyoung's number in hand, and he's never felt so lonely.

Jisoo's phone buzzes during lunch. It echoes through the stairway and through the air vents next to his head. He jumps, nearly dropping his sandwich because he hasn't had a text for ages. 

Unknown number: hey, its kwon soonyoung. are u hong jisoo?

No. No. 

Jisoo debates blocking the number, but he doesn't want to face the consequences from his mom.

Yes, this is Hong Jisoo.

Unknown number: wanna meet me ouside? uur mom said u wete lonely

Jisoo closes his eyes and tries not to let the situation overwhelm him. 

No, thank you. I'm busy studying.

Unknown number: for wat lol. theres no tests

I have a quiz tomorrow.

Unknown number: dude your moms forcing me to see u. just come outside so i xan tell her we met

Oh, so that's how it is. Jisoo feels a surge of guilt.

Sorry, my mom can be kind of weird sometimes.

Unknown number: jyst come outside

Despite the feeling of trepidation weighing heavy in his chest, Jisoo grabs his bags and his guitar case and heads out the exit, stumbling slightly under the weight.

They're waiting for him under the big maple tree south of the school. The leaves are starting to wilt and yellow, and the grass around it is matted and pale with the threat of winter.

There are maybe seven or so people there. Jisoo thinks he sees Soonyoung right in front, with his signature bleached blond hair.  Hansol and Mingyu are there, too, brand-name backpacks tossed carelessly to the ground. There are two boys who Jisoo thinks were in this year's musical- whose skilled voices nudged Jisoo's sub-par ones out from a spot in the music club. Jisoo also sees a couple laying on the ground, practically on top of each other. He doesn't want to think about them.

Mingyu notices Jisoo first, snickering and elbowing Soonyoung. The blond's head snaps up, as do the other five people's. Including, well, the two people that Jisoo specifically does not want to see. 

"Hey, Jisoo!" Soonyoung says. Loudly. "Come sit with us."

"I-" Jisoo swallows. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah. Drop your bags and case, man." Soonyoung beckons him over. "Just relax."

Jisoo finds himself obeying, but his feet are frozen. He just can't bring himself to walk over.

"What's your problem? Just come over here."

Jisoo's eyes follow the way that Seungcheol gently bats a leaf away from Jeonghan's face. "Um."

"Hey, what's this?" Mingyu has grabbed his backpack, and before Jisoo can do anything, is pulling out the contents like it's his own. "Pills? Wow, what for?"

"Hey, don't," Jisoo protests, eyes following the rolling orange bottle of sleeping pills, but Mingyu is already flipping the backpack upside down and moving onto his book bag.

"Book bag, huh? Wonder what's in here."

"Mingyu, stop it," one of the singers snaps. "I didn't know you were like this."

"Chill, Seungkwan. He can handle it; he's a big boy."

Jisoo feels hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes already, and he wills for them to not fall.

He can't believe he's a senior already and he's being like this. He's eighteen and he's acting like a five-year old and being played with by a sophomore.

"Or maybe not, since he's crying like a baby," Mingyu snorts, tossing his books to the side. "Jisoo, why don't you go get those?"

"Mingyu, that's enough," the other singer says firmly, starting to put Jisoo's things back into the backpack. "Don't harass the poor guy."

"Seokmin, mind your own business."

Seungkwan stands up and collects the books, brushing them off lightly and yanking the book bag from Mingyu's hands. He puts the books in gently and then presses the bag into Jisoo's hands. 

"Here. I'm sorry, Mingyu doesn't usually act like this."

"He's just playing a joke," Seokmin chimes in, smiling. "Don't take it personally, he's just a huge trickster."

"Yeah. Don't take it personally." Mingyu aims the backpack at Jisoo. "Catch."

The bag falls on the ground, sinking slightly into the soft mud in front of Jisoo's shoes.

"Mingyu!" Seungkwan scolds. 

Jisoo just grabs his backpack and gets the hell out of there.

He makes it to the bathroom, robotically cleaning the mud off his shoes because his mother doesn't like it when he's dirty. Jeonghan and Seungcheol being over used to pretty much ensure that his mother was always angry, because the two of them would make sure to get anything from pancake batter to grass all over Jisoo's clothes, and occasionally, hair. 

It's only until Jisoo finishes scraping the dirt off the bottom of his backpack that he remembers his guitar case. 

He rushes back to the tree, but the case is gone, along with any trace of the boys that were there.

"Jisoo, someone is here to see you."

Jisoo ambles slowly downstairs, bangs covering his forehead and brushing against his eyelashes. He doesn't know how to tell his mother about his guitar. He's terrified of what will happen to him if he does.

He opens the door, only to freeze up.

"Hey." Jeonghan shifts from one foot to the other. "You forgot your guitar."

"Thanks," Jisoo says quietly, very quietly. He isn't even sure if Jeonghan heard him. 

He takes the guitar case from Jeonghan's hands. Their hands brush, just barely, just for a millisecond. Then Jeonghan is pulling back, one foot out the door.

He thinks maybe Jeonghan will say something about today. He doesn't even expect an apology. Maybe he expects a bit of mockery, or at least acknowledgement that it happened.

But Jeonghan says nothing. Jisoo watches as the boy disappears, swallowed by the murky purple of the autumn evening.

"Did you talk to Soonyoung today, dear?"

"I did."

His mother looks so smug; so proud of herself. "Good. See, I told you that if you just followed what I told you to do, you'd have a much better life."

"Yeah." Jisoo bites his tongue. Don't fight back. Don't. "You were right."

"Good boy. Eat your food."

Jisoo obeys her. He always does.

He doesn't want to go to school again, not after what happened yesterday, but it's not like he really has a choice.

Maybe Kwon Soonyoung's friends aren't that bad, though. It's really just Mingyu and Soonyoung himself, right? Seokmin and Seungkwan stood up for him yesterday, and even Hansol looked a bit cautious. Seungcheol and Jeonghan...well, they didn't exactly say anything. They didn't even look at him.

He goes to the library after eating lunch; there are still fifty minutes until classtime, and Jisoo really would like some peace and quiet after yesterday's events. 

"You're in my seat."

Jisoo blinks and looks up from his book- some pretentious hipster poetry. "Excuse me?"

"I usually sit here." The boy inclines his head towards the desk that Jisoo is currently occupying. "Do you think you could move?"

"Well- why?" Jisoo is genuinely confused. "Aren't all the seats the same?"

"No." The boy's vacant expression twists into one of mild annoyance. "This one is next to the window, and during lunchtime, the sunlight hits the exact right angle to shine on my book. I believe it's at exactly-" He cuts himself off. "Sorry. You probably don't want to hear...nevermind."

"Well, then why don't you just sit across from me?" Jisoo gestures to the other seat at the desk. "It's not like the angle of sunlight is going to change for-"

"It does." The boy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Maybe- maybe you can move to that seat? Please?"

"Well, sure." Jisoo is perplexed, but he won't question it. He nudges his book bag to the other side, then gets up to sit in the other seat. The boy nods in satisfaction, then takes Jisoo's place.

"Sorry, I'm just- whatever. You probably don't want to hear it."

Jisoo shrugs. This boy is strange- but then again, so is he.

"What's your name?"

"Why do you want to know?" The boy raises an eyebrow.

"Well, I don't know." Jisoo shifts, feeling mildly uncomfortable. "I guess it's just...something to ask?"

It's silent for a while and Jisoo bites his lip, opening his book back up and flipping to his spot. He skims over the words, trying to find the passage about mirrors and-

"Jeon Wonwoo."

"Sorry?"

"My name is Jeon Wonwoo. That's what you were asking for, right?"

"Um. Yeah, I guess. I'm Hong Jisoo."

Wonwoo's eyebrows raise fractionally. "You're Hong Jisoo?"

"Yeah? I guess? What do you mean by that?"

"Huh." Wonwoo nods, seemingly to himself. "Okay. Nice to meet you, Jisoo."

"Nice to meet you too, Wonwoo."

Jisoo has a dream about the summer.

He dreams of the striped hammock in Seungcheol's backyard, and the pretty little tree stump with their three initials carved into it. He dreams of warm brown eyes and welcoming arms, and soft voices floating on top of the light pitter-patter of the summer rain.

And maybe he wishes that he didn't wake up.