Mingyu watched on amusedly as Soonyoung and Minghao battled each other on the dance floor of the arcade. Their feet moved in rapid speed on each tile and in-sync to the music that it was more than impressive. Mingyu had long lost the match as he couldn't keep up. Soon, it was decided that the result was a tie, although Minghao was a few points ahead. No one could deny that both Soonyoung and Minghao were extremely talented in the game.

They moved on to another game, where Mingyu found that he quite liked the basketball game. He made it far that he was up against Soonyoung in their last round. Minghao had been rooting for Mingyu, although the latter thought that it was only because he didn't want Soonyoung to win another game. While Mingyu's height gave him slight advantage at a more precise shooting, Soonyoung's fast hands shot one ball after another into the hoop accurately and with experience. In the end, Soonyoung claimed the win for the game, much to Minghao's despair.

After many of the other video games, their last one was a test of strength by punching. Seokmin and Hansol went first, having won only one game from the arcade each. Unfortunately, they didn't manage to get close to the high score, and so Soonyoung went up next. 

"AH! So close!" Soonyoung exclaimed as the numbers increase, but stopped a few points behind the high score.

"I hope all of you remembered your score, because I don't think any of us are going to be able to beat the high score," Minghao spoke. 

"Who was this person anyway, Hulk?" Seokmin questioned with sarcasm.

Mingyu looked at him. "If it were Hulk, this machine wouldn't even exist anymore."

They laughed and agreed.

Minghao was up next, and he rolled up the invisible sleeves from his dainty arms, preparing to throw in his punch. He blew a sigh, before clenching his fist, pulling back, and just going in for the punch. 

Everyone who felt as though the punch was already strong held in their breath as the numbers kept increasing.

"Oh my God."

"How did your noodle arms beat the high score?"

Minghao had beaten the high score. 

The boy flexed his arms and kissed his non-existent huge biceps. "I'm telling you, I may be skinny, but I actually do work out at times."

Soonyoung, with his mouth agape, stepped forward and patted Mingyu's back. "I'm counting on you to beat Minghao in this, Mingyu." 

Mingyu laughed embarrassedly, standing in front of the machine. Deep inside, he knew how strong his punch could be towards his opponents in The Underground. Maybe this machine could tell him how strong it was in numbers? 

Staring at the target, he didn't hesitate to send his clenched fist into it. There was a loud thud, shocking everyone that they fell silent again, eyes locked on the points calculation. 

Their jaws fell.

"Um, Mingyu."

"Is there something you're not telling us?"

"Do you, like, do marital arts or something?"

Mingyu wasn't exactly surprised that his punch was that strong, but he guessed that it must be such an accomplishment to beat the high score with an even higher score.

Soonyoung broke out of his stupor, jumping up and down. "Yes! Minghao doesn't win the point for this game!" He clapped furiously. 

"Is that what you've been worrying about the whole time?" Minghao asked, shaking his head.

"So does this mean you win?" Seokmin questioned as well.

"Yes!" Soonyoung responded enthusiastically. "This means that I get a wish from you guys whenever I want."

"Um... Did we even agree to this?" Mingyu asked, confused.

"It's an unspoken thing, my friend. Whenever we get competitive, the one who wins will get a wish from any of us," Soonyoung explained, his huge smile contagious that Mingyu couldn't help but smile himself. "Ah, what a great mood to eat spicy rice cake. Let's go!" 

Hansol walked slightly at the back. "Is no one going to talk about how Mingyu is literally the Hulk?"

*

After filling up their stomachs, everyone parted ways. Mingyu headed straight home, where he threw his bag and laid on his mattress. 

He felt his pocket for his phone, pulling it out. He then remembered he had to text Wonwoo and got up to get his bag. Rummaging through it, he found the piece of paper. Wonwoo's number was written in somewhat messy handwriting.

Mingyu copied down the number into his phone and stashed the paper away into a drawer. He laid back down and started texting.

Mingyu: Um. Hi? Mingyu here.

After what felt like eons and thinking that it was the wrong number-- which was ridiculous, because why would his teacher give him the wrong number--, he received a reply.

Wonwoo: Hi, Mingyu. Can I help you?

Mingyu snorted at the formal reply.

Mingyu: About that tutoring thing, I was thinking that we could just do it in school?

Wonwoo: Hm, you're going to be at The Underground tomorrow right?

Mingyu:
Yeah. 

Wonwoo:
Then let's just do it there? 
Not exactly the best place to study, but at least you're not wasting time while you wait for your turn
I mean, I don't peg you as someone who would watch the fight wholeheartedly?

Mingyu snorts at that.

Mingyu:
Hm
You're not wrong 
Well, I'm not against the idea. 

Wonwoo:
If that's the case, we'll start tomorrow then

Mingyu:
Sure, we could come slightly earlier?

Wonwoo:
That's fine by me. I leave school at 4pm. 

Mingyu:
Okay, see you tomorrow

Wonwoo:
See you tomorrow, Mingyu.

"Ugh... Why are we so formal when we've practically beaten each other up before?" Mingyu asked aloud to himself, before deciding to wash up.

As Mingyu stepped out of the bathroom, wiping his hair with a towel, he spotted his Maths textbook peeking out from his school bag. He decided that he could maybe read up and understand some parts of it so he wouldn't look like a total in front of Wonwoo.

He sat on the ground, pulling out the book and flipping it to the first page, where most of the basic formulations were. 

After a few minutes of squinting and trying to get his brain to work, he concluded, "Okay, maybe I understand this formula... But this though, what does this have to do with that?" He sighed exasperatedly.

To hell with trying to get himself to understand. He stuffed the book back into his bag and turned the lights off. Laying down with blankets covering himself, he stared at the ceiling, letting the silence fill in the room.

Instead, the occasional sounds of the crickets outside, the ceiling fan turning, and the working refrigerator accompanied him. 

He turned to the side, hugging his pillow a