High school is rough.

For at least the fifth time that year, Hyukjae is in the bathroom pressing wet paper towels to Donghae’s face.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Donghae says, blinking at Hyukjae and managing a crooked smile. His eye is already puffy and will be black by tomorrow.

‘I am ing worried about it,’ Hyukjae snaps at him. ‘Why do you keep getting in fights?’

‘Don’t know,’ Donghae says. ‘Wanna get tacos on the way home?’

‘No,’ Hyukjae says.

But they do anyway. Exams are coming up and they should be studying, but it’s not like either of them are top students. Hyukjae is more interested in the five second clip on his phone (which he has watched approximately 217 times), and Donghae is more interested in pulling out his camera to take embarrassing pictures. Most of them are of Hyukjae.

The little taco place is warm and filled with savoury scents, and they take their time eating. Donghae finally sighs happily after finishing his own (and then Hyukjae’s) tacos, then goes to the bathroom to wash his hands. Hyukjae is sitting waiting for him when another group from their school comes in and sits at the neighbouring booth.

‘Did you hear about Donghae,’ one of them is saying, and Hyukjae’s ears immediately prick up.

‘He got in a fight with Jin Woo,’ another says, laughing. ‘What was he thinking?’

‘I heard it was cos of his boyfriend,’ one of the girls says. The boy beside her chokes on his drink.

‘He’s got a boyfriend?’

‘Yeah,’ the girl says. ‘That skinny guy, what’s his name?’

Hyukjae slinks down lower in his chair, praying they don’t see him. He’s sweating and his brain can’t seem to catch up.

Donghae has a boyfriend? What the ?

‘The one he wears a couple bracelet with,’ the girl says. ‘Hyuk-something?’

‘Hyukjae?’ her friend asks. ‘The guy on the dance team?’

‘Gross.’ The guy takes another slurp of his drink. ‘I didn’t even know they were gays.’

Donghae comes out of the bathroom drying his hands on his pants, grinning and ready to tell Hyukjae how he’d scared the cook by accidentally going through the wrong door, and-

His smile is replaced by a puzzled look.

The table where they’d been sitting is empty.

Hyukjae has gone.

‘What happened yesterday?’ he asks Hyukjae the next day at school. He’s wearing a t-shirt despite the cold weather since he left his jacket somewhere, and he’s somehow still got some of his summer tan left, the brown plaited leather of his bracelet complimenting his warm skin.

Hyukjae pulls the sleeve of his own sweater right down over his knuckles. It’s become a habit overnight.

‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘I suddenly remembered something and had to go, that’s all.’

Donghae looks at him.

‘Okay,’ he says, and for once he doesn’t push for answers. Hyukjae smiles faintly at him and is grateful. He doesn’t know why he fled, why he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about