You sat in the courtyard that Friday in your thick jacket and Minghao’s scarf around your neck. Your hands were warm inside the pockets as you studied the ridges on the pavement below you. They were like rivers, bending and leading paths that unfortunately all ended at the same crease in the pavement. Clearly, Minghao’s words haven’t left your mind since the moment he spoke it. Why did he sound so wise anyway?

The thought of Emjae leaving whether if it was now or later bothered you. Why was it that the more you thought about it, the more you believed Minghao’s words? It was obvious; you looked nothing like Emjae’s fiancée. A whole you couldn’t compare to a single strand of her silky hair. She was clearly everything that you couldn’t be. Maybe Minghao was right; maybe Emjae would eventually leave you after all. Your phone rang removing your thoughts from your mind.

“Hey Grandpa…” you greeted miserably through the phone.

“What’s with the sad tone?”

Out of agony, you blurted, “I saw Emjae. And…his…”

“Why don’t you come back home for the weekend? I’ll have someone pick you up Saturday morning,”

You sighed, “That sounds nice…,”

As if he already knew, he comforted you; his words, like sincere arms, wrapped you into a safe haven.

From inside the West building, Seungkwan watched you hang up your phone and shove it back into your pocket. He hurriedly walked over to the door and pushed it open. The cold air pricked his skin making him wonder what the heck you were doing outside.

He made his way over as vapor expelled from his mouth every time he breathed. You turned your head to the motion of Seungkwan and greeted him with a forged smile.

“It’s cold out here. Shouldn’t you be inside?” he asked.

“I should,” you glanced away, “but I don’t feel cold at all,”

From your unengaging words, Seungkwan knew you were still heartbroken from Saturday. You were like the clear figurine in the center of the fountain: completely transparent. It was as if he could see your broken heart hanging loose inside your chest, clinging and holding on for dear life.

He sat down beside you on the rim of the fountain and the cold surface chilled through his pants.

“You’re not wearing a jacket, you should go inside,” you suggested.

“I told you I like the cold,” Seungkwan replied yet he was totally lying. Sure, he liked the chilly weather but today was way too cold to even be outside. From beside you, he observed your profile and long black hair that draped over the large scarf around your neck.

“Here,” Seungkwan announced triggering you to look over to him. You watched him pat his shoulder a few times before he joked, “not everyone gets to enjoy this strong shoulder, you know?”

Seungkwan watched your eyes dart away, dazing out as if you weren’t sure how to react to his offer. Instead of waiting, he reached over to pull your head to his shoulder. He then quickly drew you into a closer encounter with both of his hands.

He smelled of a sweet woody-green fragrance and in response you closed your eyes.

At the feel of your head resting against him he spoke, “Everyone needs someone to lean on during times like these. I want you to know, my shoulders will always be yours,”

His words circulated through your ears as you opened your eyes and stared at the dead bushes ahead. You used to lay your head this way on Emjae’s shoulder as well. Strangely, the comfort was still the same, however, now it was Seungkwan’s shoulder instead. You couldn’t help but wonder if Seungkwan truly liked the chilly weather. When he touched your head, his fingers were cold and stiff.

“Call me if you need anything,”

You nodded, “I will,”

“Promise me you will call me. No texting ok?”

“Ok, I promise,” you replied and watched Seungkwan head off towards the stairs. You stood there on the first floor of the East building and watched the stairwell doors close behind him. Seungkwan was sneakingly persuasive. He had come outside not only to comfort you but to convince you to remain inside. In the end, you let him win.

You pressed your lips together and turned around to head towards the main building. When you entered you saw Vernon dragging a long piece of paper behind him. You watched him walk over to the front doors of Pledis before he unfolded the banner.

You approached him slowly, curious as to what the banner said. “What are you doing?” you asked from behind him. At the sight of you he felt his heart leap a few times, somersaulting inside his chest.

“I’m putting up a Christmas banner for the school,” Vernon explained; his voice was low, virile, and easygoing as he dusted his hands together.

“Already?”

He nodded, placed his hands on his hips and answered, “Already,”

“Did you need a ladder? I have the keys to the janitor closet down the hall,”

“That wou