Dinner doesn’t take place in the lunch room, but a part of you is already expecting so. You don’t question where your best friend is leading you, and neither do the pairs of eyes following your every move. Nobody daring to make a move to follow the two of you, but it’s difficult to blank out the incessant buzzing sound of their whispers, that they’re not even trying to hush. 

You pass through hallways, in doing so, go through what feels to be an infinite number of doors and up several flights of stairs before you reach your intended destination.  Which is a rooftop overlooking the city, still attached to your school, but through a wing you had no current idea existed. 

Surely you and many other an inhabitant. 

"What an interesting place,” you muse, glancing up at him momentarily. “If you were anyone else I’m sure I’d be about to be pushed off that exact ledge over there.” Pointing to said destination, for emphasis. 

Taemin peers at you. “Anyone?”

“More or less.” You offer a lazy, non committal shrug. “Given the day I’ve had.”

But rather than push for details, he glances around at your surroundings, before turning back to face you. “This is…” He looks somewhat nervous, the words coming out a little subdued. “A few years back, my father helped refurbish this school, he invested a lot of time and money into it. Though it was intended to be, this particular block isn’t used for teaching, or even at all. Very few know about it. In fact,” he says, though his eyes glance ahead and not at you this time. “I’m probably the only one.”

You don’t interrupt. But you’re infinitely curious as to the reason why it’s not in use, after it was planned to be. What could have happened?

“I come here to clear my head sometimes.” He pauses. “And when I’m stressed I–”

You try not to cringe at the thought that comes to you, wondering why you even voice it. “Bring your girlfriend here too?” You clear your throat. Of all the things you didn’t want to think about, the mental image of the aforementioned was way up there.  "It’s okay Taemin,“ you wave your hand in a non committal manner, like it’s no big deal.  "I don’t need to know the details.” 

“No,” he instantly intercepts, and the more you analyze him, the more you note the frustration behind the tone. It’s a secret that he wanted to tell you, open up about. Something he feels he’s wrongfully hid from you. “Nothing like that. I… dance. Alone.”

But you’re not too surprised by this piece of information you’ve been given, nor offended that he’s kept it from you for this long a period.

He never openly spoke about dancing, but you’d had inklings over the years. 

You were very attuned to your best friend, his gestures, mannerisms, the words he wanted to say but didn’t, when they appeared from time to time. He’d taken a keen interest in dancing in your much younger years, and would always take the opportunity to swirl around with you at school parties, or on the evenings you’d spend together as the sun would go down.

There’d be times throughout cinema trips where advertisements for dancing or movies related to that would play, or scenes in movies where a character would dance, and his eyes would glisten in a particular way. He’d subconsciously gravitate towards characters that were dancers, pay a lot of attention to the choreography of music videos from the songs you’d listen to. 

The signs were always there. Just not verbally. 

“And you’re stressed right now?”

He doesn’t deny or confirm. “I hid this place from you for so long,” sounding a little vacant. “I don’t think I should’ve done that.”

“Why not? You’re allowed your privacy too. If it’s a hobby you’d prefer to take up without telling anyone, I should respect that.” 

“Because I–” He sighs, slightly shifting his positioning, now further away in terms of proximity than he had been before. 

He’s nervous. “Taemin…?” 

“I don’t know,” he says, bowing his head a little. “I  just wanted to get good before I told anyone that I–” He stops here, shaking his head as if to convince himself what he’s saying is ridiculous. 

But that movement in itself confirms what he’s trying to tell you.

You blink, a little surprised by this. “You want to take it to a professional level? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

He’s still for a moment, before nodding. So the dancing must have been going on for a while, then. Since even before you started noticing his mannerisms, maybe even before you knew him. 

“How long have you been dancing, Taeminnie?” 

“Years,” he whispers. “Classes, in my spare time. Whenever I had the opportunity. I just… I just thought that if I got to a point where I was so undeniably good at it, before telling anyone then… it’d be a lot harder to argue against, you know? – Were I say I want to do it professionally. T-to someone. Anyone.” 

You reach over and pat his hand reassuringly. “Well if you want my blessing,” you say gently, snuggling closer. “You have it. I promise to be your biggest supporter.”

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he mumbles. 

But the mood seems to dampen after a while as he says, a quiet, “There’s no way I’ll be able to convince my parents.” You notice the light in his eyes fading. “They'll never listen, particularly my father," he murmurs, and you notice the blankness in his eyes as he says this, like without his father's help or approval here, it'd never be possible for him to dance professionally.

And you’re not sure how to comfort him, because you have no idea how his father is, you know absolutely nothing about the man, aside from the fact that he’s a powerful man, at least according to hearsay and financial status.

But that’s as far as it goes, same for his mother, who he literally never mentions, even right now, it's just a vague mention of his parents with a focus on his father.

Or siblings, if any exist. 

You’re as close as a person can get to him – outside of romantic and familial endeavors – but his family have always been that ‘no go’ area, even without anyone explicitly saying so. And you’d gotten used to that, over the years, as curious as you were about his family to begin with. 

So you suggest a gentle, “maybe do it without them knowing about it. Not to say you’re intentionally doing it behind their back or anything, but if you audition somewhere and get cast in a professional dance company and eventually start touring around the world… how can they argue with that, your father in particular?”

Taemin doesn’t meet your eyes. “He always finds a way,” he says, and you note how detached he sounds in comparison to his previous sentences, numbed, even. Particularly with his ominous follow up of, “and he always gets his way.”

It’s quiet for a while, as you try and formulate a response or a question that will help you shed light on the father of your best friend, someone who even as long as you’ve known his son, is more of an enigma than even Kim Jongin, who, up until this point, was the most enigmatic of beings you’d ever encountered.

So it’s no exaggeration to say it’s a feat.

Of feats.

But Taemin doesn’t elaborate, nor shed any light on him than what he’s just said, so you drop it, much as you don’t want to. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about him, just like he hasn’t all the previous times, and as much as you’d do to comfort him, you’re not going to push him in an area he’s obviously uncomfortable in. 

You just hope it’s the right call, and sincerely hope the relationship isn’t as bad as Taemin may be alluding to. 

“Anyway, less of that,” he then says, a small smile gracing his features. The longer you look, the more you convince yourself it’s forced. “More to the real reason I brought you here to talk.” He pauses, glancing at you, as if he’s only just contemplating this. “Sorry if you wanted to stay in the cafeteria and me bringing you here was such short notice, I just thought with all the attention it’d be a nice change, and could help you clear your thoughts better. If you want to go back–”

You instantly shake your head, telling him it’s perfectly fine and you genuinely do prefer it to all the noise and the stares and the comments and so forth. And that you’re infinitely curious as to what it is he’s going to tell you…

“You’re a bad boyfriend,” is the first thing you say when you next encounter Jongin, later that day. In the room that’s become a second nature to the both of you. 

The same room you’ve been spending the majority of your evenings in, over the passing weeks. Though it was in that, in all other times of being here, you’d both be silent, go about the errands you had to run without so much as a peep, completely avoiding interaction with the other. 

You wonder if that’s where he found the time to read you, read all the nonverbal cues you gave off, slowly come to know you or at least your habits without so much as saying a word to you. Much as you had with your best friend. 

Though admittedly, conversations were many between yourself and Taemin. And you’d known him a long, long while. You spent the majority of your time together.

Jongin had never encountered you outside of school, excluding these past few weeks.

You wonder if he’s really that adept at assessing people the first time he meets them, cracking into their thought process and mindset, and how on earth he’s gotten so good at doing so. If he ever makes mistakes or leaps in judgement.

If he ever regrets said leap in judgments, if he voices them to regret them, etcetera, etcetera.  

You then wonder if the prior sentiment has changed completely, in terms of the prolonged silence that you presented to the other, with exception of the past few weeks. Being in this cramped room together for hours at a time, and saying the bare minimum. 

Curt and formal when you do speak.

You wonder if that will change. 

If the two of you, now knowing what you know about the other and working together on a – seemingly – shared goal, will break that silence. Will allow yourselves to talk to the other, make the time pass a little less slowly. Perhaps help the other out with certain errands they’ve had run alone.

Perhaps this will continue even after arrangement you’ve concocted comes to a close.  

Perhaps it won’t.

Perhaps it will end up even more awkward than you began with. 

He’s quiet for a short while. “I considered skipping today,” he then starts, making no move to glance up at you, choosing not to elaborate further, probably in the hopes that you understand the nuance of meaning behind it, in what he’d choose to elaborate with. 

But rather than ease you, or humor you, this only serves to irritate you. That he was nowhere to be seen throughout the day, and you had to face the brunt of what you had on your own. If it hadn’t have been for Taemin… but you stop that thought in its tracks.  That wasn’t the focus here. …Yet. “But you can’t break your perfect attendance record, now can you, darling?” But it’s not said with the intent of a doting lover, though it’s barely venomous, as it had been on some previous occasions. 

Still a little mocking however.  You’re wondering if you’re tainting the meaning of such a pure and lovely word and if you’ll ever be able to reclaim its dignity for yourself. 

If you’ll ever get to a point with a person where saying it feels natural, perhaps even heart fluttering. 

Not sarcastic or teasing in the slightest.

He still doesn’t glance up. 

You suppress a sigh. “Do you know how many times I was called or today for simply daring to breath the same air as you? To be one of the very few to try and break the barriers you present to people, and try and–” you pause, because you know every time you bring this topic up, he says that same damn line. And a third repeat is not what you’re after. “…Befriend you?” 

“They don’t see it that way,” he says, a little gruffly. “Through the party, you confirmed your position in my life.” 

“You never told me I’d be doing that,” and you hate that your voice is losing its prior strength, that it’s quietening. It’s not an accusation, it’s just confusion you present. “You said we wouldn’t have to be open about the 'relationship’ until weeks or months from the party. That this was just to get Taemin and Min-seo's attention, not the whole damn school and their extended family.” 

“I did say those parties start all of the gossip, though, did I not?”

“Yeah, but you never said it’d be this quickly. That literally everyone in the entire building would know we’re 'dating’ within the span of five minutes. If that.”

“News travels fast.” He then sighs. “Maybe you’ll now understand why I prefer to be alone.”

“But that’s not fair,” you say. “You shouldn’t have to deny yourself of friends or otherwise because of the reaction of your classmates. Or even more ridiculously, your teachers!”

He shrugs. “It is what it is. You know how the students of this school are to begin with, they’re practically vultures. They’d sell you out for the latest gossip or an invite to a prestigious party in a second. You’d think it’d stop outside of high school, or at least lessen, but in circles like this, it only gets worse. And it’ll carry on, the older you get, the more successful you become.” 

This is difficult for you to comprehend. “I don’t even get it,” you continue in a huff, and nothing you say is meant to be insulting, something you know Jongin is aware of. “It’s not like you encourage this kind of behavior!  Everyone knows you to be the most elusive person on campus, and the least likely to be accompanying people. It’s not like you go out of your way to be overly nice or welcoming to people. Not girls – or boys – that are obviously interested in you that you’re putting across mixed signals to them by doing so; you’re nothing like Taemin in that sense, I mean, as his best friend, over the years I’ve witnessed the amount of confessions he’s received and the confusion he’s felt in receiving them, from people he truly considered to be platonic friends or even acquaintances that then go on to accuse him of sending the wrong message across. Not realizing his level of warmth is above what a person would expect from a general acquaintance or classmate.”

Jongin nods. “But even so,” though you can hear the edge that comes into it by your mention of Taemin’s name. “They’d act the same with him even if he didn’t do all of that. And that’s my point. It’s not how warm or cold we present ourselves in this godforsaken place, it’s the power of a family name, or business. Money speaks. Prestige speaks. We’re supposedly eligible, and having friends in such a  situation? A dangerous thing. Don’t get me started on romantic prospects. The illusion, prestige and the image of the candidate is much, much more important the nicety of their character to such people, believe me. Anyone who gets in the way of that is the enemy.” 

And it’s said with such superficial glee that you scowl. He knew exactly what he was doing by making you face this alone, and apparently isn’t a fraction apologetic. 

A scowl of which he replies with an amused eyebrow raise. “You’re angry.”

“Perceptive,” you utter, tone lacing with ice.  And before he can even open his mouth, you hold up your finger to stop him in his tracks. “And I know, I know exactly what you’re going to say next, believe me, I know. 
Well weren’t you the one to devise this union, surely you should’ve expected this, what with being Taemin’s friend after all these years, and touche to that. But you didn’t tell me that it’d be my own teachers, the authority you’d expect to put out the flame, shift the attention elsewhere getting themselves involved to such a degree. 
That they’d be the ones egging these people on, sitting there amused at the turn out, like rabid journalists who have just released the article of a life time, that it’s appropriate for them to be making flirty little jokes that everyone else snickers at or scowls at.” You take a deep, angry breath. “Before said people who are scowling turn around and critique my every feature or habit and drag it to the nines. 
God forbid a person keeps their natural hair color because it suits them best, and what is so wrong about wearing red lipstick, isn’t it classic? Classics don’t go out of fashion! But apparently not here.
Oh no, she doesn’t wear her Louboutins every day of her life and prefers some comfort days, particularly ones where she needs to be focusing on her studies. Let’s stone her.” You puff out an angry breath. “Ugh.”

Your eyes narrow at the amused expression he’s still presenting and the blase body language, arms crossed as he leans against a table leisurely, legs looking as long as ever. It makes you angrier that he can look so effortlessly attractive, even at a time when you’re angry at him; that if he offered, you certainly wouldn’t say no to a kiss. 

“And the best yet,” you continue, trying to turn your thoughts away from the aforementioned.  "I’m apparently using you to make Taemin jealous and probably screwing you both on the side like the devious little I am.“ You’re still taken aback by the venom in the voice of the girl who said this. "The girl that said this seriously had it out for me, I don’t even know what it is I’ve done. Kyungmi or something, I think I heard the other girl call her?”

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin corrects. “And not a girl at all.”

You gasp. “But I swore she– her voice?”

“It’s easily done. Voices blur together easily. Hallways are always overcrowded. You assumed it to be a girl, because that’s what you’ve been taught, that when girls get jealous, their first thought is to drag another girl down, at least as they say. But that’s not always the case. People don’t realize boys can be just as biting, if not more so. Kyu