This chapter is legitimately so weird. I'm so sorry for writing this!

---

 He got two surprises when he arrived home.

 Setting his keys and bag on the corner, Jongdae was pleased to find out that morning glories could in fact, grow in late mid-October. They were Minseok’s flowers, and he had placed them under a heating lamp on his windowsill(the same heating lamp that he had in fact, stolen from work).

 “Hey there, buddy,” Jongdae said, cocking his head and tenderly the sprout in between his two fingers. It almost seemed to tremble in his hand, the delicate green leaves shaking under the touch.

 The weeks before, he had painstakingly prepared the soil by measuring precise amounts of fertilizer and water. It was pleasing to see at least, that he hadn’t screwed up this one thing.

 You know what, he thought, crossing the living room, it almost cancels out today’s ty day.

 For one, Jongdae had missed the bus this morning, and Chanyeol vehemently refused to give him the window seat on the ride back from the campus. Secondly, the professor was out to ruin his life with another whopping two assignments.

  plant taxonomy. And plant ecology. SM.

 Perhaps he really just was a masochist.

 Exhibit A - He was still friends with Baekhyun and Chanyeol. Maybe Irene too, but he wouldn’t count on it.

 Exhibit B - He still hadn’t dropped out from school.

 Botany was supposed an easy major! He liked flowers, and vegetables(well really, just potatoes), and fruit….?

 Sadly for him, he also liked wasting time.

 Jongdae shook his head and pulled out a pencil, a jelly eraser, and his slightly crumpled folders that stank slightly of something ambiguously wet. They went into his messenger bag; the one Yeri had inspired him to buy.

 He was going to the cafe again, no question about it.

 Theoretically, he had been productive, and if all else failed, it was better to have Sunny, Irene or Minseok nag him than cover for his own irresponsible .

 Provided, Minseok didn’t become the distraction.

 Slinging his bag over one shoulder, the florist made sure to lock the door behind him. The elevator made a shaking sound when it hit ground floor, and he held in a little scream as he stepped into the lobby.

 When he approached the cafe, taking his steps with leaps in between, Jongdae made sure to check the special sign. It was something along the lines of “Vanilla Bean Latte”, and he looked up a split second later to see Sunny on the inside, waving happily with a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser in hand.

 “Come in!” She unlatched the door for him, propping the window washing bucket up on her knee.

 “Thanks….” he replied absentmindedly, walking past her.

 The scent of bleach stung his nose, and the sounds of wet cloth on glass panes weren’t exactly music to his ears, but Jongdae took the nearest seat to the entrance as possible. The place was packed with after-work customers, and hipster Reddit teens who were flooding in after school, staking out the tables obnoxiously.

 Carefully, Jongdae laid out his binder, then his phone, and arranged his pen, pencil and eraser at ninety-degree angles. He sharpened the pencil to a needlepoint before pulling apart his earbuds.

 Turning on his Spotify, he switched it to “This is Taeyeon” to make Baekhyun proud, and then slipped in the earphones to drown out the noise with quality music.

 The time really did fly by as his pencil did the same on his sheet, filling the page with his scratchy writing and graphite smears from the points where Jongdae had pressed too hard into the paper. The playlist looped once, and then twice.

 He was already picking up the working pace, and the florist was so immersed in his work that he didn’t even look up when the rag dragged across the windows with the occasional screeech, or rreeee.

 Soon, even that disappeared as the boss took her pail to douse down the kitchen. There was the slightly audible sound of splashing water over the noise of all the rambling teens, and then a moist squish.

 Jongdae stretched out his arms and shook out his hands before hunching over the makeshift desk again.

 He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he looked up again, but he saw Sunny trotting out the kitchen, pulling her sequined coat over one shoulder, and Minseok trailing behind her with a raised voice. Most of the customers had already gone home, and he paused the playlist so he could check the time.

 It was already half-past six, and Jongdae’s eyebrows shot up. He yanked out the earbuds with one hand, and gathered his stuff with the other.

 “Listen to me-” Sunny began, crossing her arms.

 “Listen to ME!” Minseok pointed at his own chest, his voice slightly cracking.

 “We’re not putting that in the coffee. I forbid heinous crimes like these.” The girl turned, her bag slapping against her silver jacket as she did so.

 “It’s cake. Millennials love mythical and mysterious flavours-”

 “Birthday cake is about as real as a unicorn to me,” Sunny asserted. She took a step towards the door and Minseok seemed to follow like a magnet towards his boss.

 “Please-please-please-please!” the blonde begged. Sunny gave him a look of disdain that softened as she pushed his face away.

 “I’m running tight on time.” She checked her watch and dodged another plea from Minseok. “You take good care of my baby EXODUS for me.”

 “Yes, ma’am,” Minseok saluted, giving his signature reassurance. Sunny ducked out the door with a final wave, before the barista suddenly turned to Jongdae and gave him a confused shrug.

 “No luck with the birthday cake?” Jongdae asked, half-shouting across the cafe.

 “Nope. She’s so intolerant sometimes.” The older let out a sigh and his eyes flickered down to chair, opposite from the florist’s table.

 “Do you mind if I sit down?”

 “Oh. Yes. Wait, no.” Jongdae thought for a second. “Yes, you can sit down and no, I don’t mind.”

 He let out an awkward laugh when Minseok pulled the stool up, scooting closer until their knees were almost touching under the table.

 "I need a break,” the blonde groaned, rubbing his eyes and slumping onto the table. “Somebody needs tell Sunny to hire someone else. I feel overworked and underpaid.” He looked at Jongdae, as if he was expecting a response.

 “Can’t relate.” The younger leaned back in his seat. “I literally make bouquets all day.”

 Minseok stuck out his tongue as he stood up, pushing out the chair with him. “I’m jealous.”

 The barista ducked in between the rows of tables and under the bar to reach the back counter, where he grabbed a cup off the top of a large sack and poured in something from a metal pitcher. There was a snap of a plastic lid and he brought it back to Jongdae, setting it down on the tabletop gently.

 “Today’s special.”

 “And don’t tell Sunny,” Minseok added as the dark-haired boy brought the paper cup to his mouth.

 “It’s-” Jongdae wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and struggled to find words that described the taste.

 The older simply shrugged at the indifference. “It’s not really my thing either, the-three bean water…”

 “Huh?”

 “Three beans,” Minseok recited. “Vanilla bean, coffee bean, soybean.”

 “Ah.” The florist took another sip and swallowed immediately at the taste. It was sweet…..diabetic sweet as if there were something to hide. It tasted like a piece of tofu, frosted as a vanilla cake.

 “It was Irene’s idea.” The blonde looked around, and Jongdae set the cup to the side, intending to never touch it again. Minseok was just so nice to bring him stuff for free whenever he dropped by, and he almost felt a pang of guilt as he pushed away the drink.

 “Is that Fancy?” the barista asked.

 “What?” Jongdae looked down at his phone, and tapped twice to pause the playlist, which was still blasting after all this time.

 “Is that Fancy?!”

 “Um, yeah.” He brushed off his earbuds and offered them to Minseok.

 “You’re a Once? I really didn’t expect that.”

 His friend bobbed his head to the music and looked up with wide eyes.

 “I’m just a casual fan.”

 The sight of Minseok, hands clamped tight over his ears and a beam on his face as he mouthed the lyrics was somehow endearing in a way, and Jongdae sat back with a ghost of a smile on his face to enjoy the view.

 “Fancy,” the older mouthed, then giggled awkwardly.

 “Fancy!” Minseok said louder, and blew a kiss to Jongdae, who immediately felt his face bloom from embarrassment. The grin retracted, and he groaned instead, hiding his eyes.

 “It’s a song lyric,” the barista hummed happily, completely oblivious.

 Slightly annoyed, and still blushing, Jongdae used his two fingers to tap on the screen, skipping the other half of the song.

 “Hey!” Minseok slapped his arm lightly, cursing. “What the hell! It was just getting to the rap part.”

 The music shuffled to DALLA DALLA, and the florist racked up the sound until the disgruntled blonde was forced to take off the headphones, rolling his eyes at Jongdae’s petty display.

 “I hate you.”

 “I know.” The florist stood up, dodging when Minseok’s arms reached for him, fingers wiggling in a way that could only mean one thing.

 “Don’t you dare,” he warned, jumping back onto the floor.

 The barista stepped forwards, misjudging the size of the table instead, and whacking his knee on the sharp corner. His mouth widened into an almost comical “o”, before he dropped to the ground soundlessly, cradling his leg.

 “Are you okay?!”

 Jongdae got on his knees beside him, carefully studying Minseok’s scrunched up face for any signs of distress. The older nodded slightly, extending his injured knee and sitting up, grabbing onto his friend for support.

 “Are you bleeding?” His fingers lifted at Minseok’s pant hem, rolling it up gingerly and jerkily. His fingers ghosted over his milk-white skin and-

 “You wax your legs?” Jongdae smirked as the blonde punched his shoulder lightly.

 “Not the time.” He finished the action himself, riding the fabric up to his mid-thigh before leaning over to inspect the wound. 

 The skin was only slightly punctured in an almost triangle shape and the surrounding flesh was swollen pink, with little bubbles of blood rushing to the surface.

 “Bandaids are in the back, second drawer to the left, down from the stove.” Minseok took a napkin to dab at the streaky lines of blood, wincing when it stung. Jongdae quickly got to his feet and rummaged around in the kitchen, until he came back, holding the bandage like a national treasure.

 The florist dropped to his knees and taped the Bandaid over the wound, smoothing it down with his two cold fingers slowly and carefully. He then made a show of ogling his friend’s exposed calves, swallowing hard in awe.

 “See something you like?” Minseok commented dully.

 “No,” the florist squeaked, aware that he had been staring at the barista like a piece of meat.

 His legs were just so hairless, like a mole rat, every wisp pulled from the flesh to reveal pink and glossy skin, pulled tight over ripples of toned muscle-

 “If you take a picture,” the barista derided, taking Jongdae’s hand to help himself up, “it might last longer.”

 Jongdae opened his mouth for a witty reply, and closed it again. He was afraid he might start drooling.

☕☕☕

 When he went home, he laid in bed but he couldn’t sleep, for the mental image of Minseok on the ground, with that amazing, perfect pair of legs, was burned onto his eyelids.

 Jongdae sat up in the dark room, pulling open the curtains to reveal an expanse of October sky, already deep blue and flickering with city lights and stars. It was only eight o’clock; he had dashed home after the tickling accident, dropping a quick “see you later” along with it. He also “forgot” the drink there too, for good measure.

 The florist extended his half-asleep legs, pulling his boxer shorts up and sinking back down. They were long and skinny, with knobbly knees. In fact, the only place he grew hair was probably on his legs; Irene had likened him to a mole rat on a few occasions when she was feeling testy.

 He rubbed his legs together like a cricket, and bristled when the hairs brushed against each other.

 Did he want Minseok’s legs, or the full package? His emotions were somewhere along the line of jealous admiring.

 Jongdae stared down at his own, covered with wispy strands of black, and set his mouth into a firm line.

 He was going to have to do some serious legscaping.

🦵🦵🦵

 Jongdae dashed into the supermarket, shielding his head with his arms. He squinted in the face of the bright lights and remembered what he was here for. His shoes were slick from the rainwater, and squelched as he walked, fast-paced, towards the back of the store.

 The Personal Care and Hygiene sign swayed from the roof, and he ducked into aisle 47, “Hair Removal Products”. The men’s section, evidently by the amounts of grey and blue, was a mess of disposable razors, and shaving cream.

 He stared up and down, but all he could find were variations of essentially the same thing. What the hell was the difference between regular strength and extra strength shaving cream? Was it lifting weights? They had to be here around somewhere, or else Jongdae would be walking to the hardware aisle and buying a roll of duct tape to get the job done. Did guys just not wax?

 The florist rocked back and forth on his heels, scratching his head. Perhaps it was the wrong place to look.

 Jongdae sighed and began to walk circles around the Pharmaceutical section, searching for an attendant in a yellow vest, or at the very least, a map.

 As far as the eye could see, there was nobody. A few more minutes passed before he his heel, all hope lost, and started towards the Home Improvement section.

 Jongdae skipped away from the racks of razors, and towards the east corner of the massive store, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He saw the familiar flick of a dark ponytail across the Dairy cases, and he followed.

 The girl had a basket dangling from the crook of her elbow, and she reached for a block of orange cheese, whipping her face around at the last second.

 They made eye contact.

 “Jongdae?”

 “Hey, Irene.”

 She shifted her feet to the side and stood still politely, the ghost of a smile appearing on her face.

 “What?”

 “Aren’t you going to move?” she urged, stepping forwards.

 “Oh, sorry.”

 Irene marched down the Seafood section surprisingly briskly, and Jongdae almost thought she was purposefully trying to avoid him.

 “Irene.”

 She kept on going.

 “Irene!”

 The girl spun around.

 “What?”

 “I need some help.”

 “Yeah,” she agreed, “you do.”

 “No, I need your help.”

 She was so close to the checkout, and if she ran and made a valiant effort to not twist her ankle in her ankle boots, she could leave the store with a few minutes to spare.

 “Make it quick. I need to get somewhere tonight.”

 “Okay.” Instinctively, they had started walking towards the Personal Hygiene Aisle anyways, and Jongdae had decided it would be a good idea to explain his dilemma to Irene, who nodded and widened her eyes.

 “Really? He waxes? Did you ask him if he shaves?”

 “No. It’s like a reflective surface. You have to see it to believe it.”

 “I’ll bet,” she said, wondering what Jongdae was doing with Minseok’s legs. “Is this some sort of ?”

 The boy sputtered, and his cheeks grew warm.

 “Kidding,” she emphasized. He relaxed, and they stopped by the men’s section.

 “That’s it?” Irene said, eyes flickering over the meager variety.

 “That’s it.”

 She dropped her basket to the floor and searched around.

 “No cream, no wax, no lasers? No nothing?”

 “Nope. I checked up and down.” Jongdae threw his hands in the air and back down, slapping his thighs. “I was going to use duct tape.”

 “You’re just looking in the wrong place.”

 “I don’t know where else to look!”

 “Women’s section.”

 How didn’t Jongdae think of that before?!

 Irene’s cold fingers clenched around his wrist, and she pulled him into the women’s hair removal aisle forcefully, causing his whole body to go limp like a rag doll.

 “,” Jongdae puffed out, struggling to regain his balance. The girl simply shook her head and brushed past him.

 “Here’s what you’re looking for.” She stood on her toes, kicking her basket to the side as she reached for a pack of waxing strips.

 “I suppose you’re enough of a man to use these,” Irene said dryly, leaning closer to show him the packaging.

 It was an eerily airbrushed picture of a smiling girl, with shiny brown legs and even shinier white teeth that held a pink daisy between her lips like some sort of outstretched fan. It made him feel uncomfortable as he pushed the box away, scratching the back of his neck.

 “Well,” she sighed, grabbing another item from the shelf, “what about this?” The box was cut down the corner; a slash between green and white.

 “Aloe vera,” Irene read out, turning the label over in her palm. “Good for the skin and good for the soul.”

 Jongdae wasn’t even paying attention, enamoured instead by the sheer variety of products in the aisle, compared to the corner of men’s razors and shaving cream. Even the women did it better. There were only so many kinds of shave foam that you could make, but he hadn’t even known that fruit flavours existed. He wanted it all; mango to coconut, green apple to raspberry, honey to milk.

 “There’s so many,” he said breathily, trailing his fingers over a tub of coconut wax beans.

 “Do you want these, or not?”

 He brought his eyes up to take in the enormous wall of pink packaging, a million varieties of dilapidation cream, razors, and waxing beans.

 “How do I choose?”

 Irene sighed and put her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes.

 “Do I get almond? Or shea butter? Berry sounds good too….” Jongdae pressed himself up against the display, inching closer to the glossy boxes.

 “It’s not a ing gelateria. Just CHOOSE.”

 “Oh my, green tea?” He swiped the teal container from the shelf, shaking the contents lightly.

 “But there’s also chamomile….”

 Jongdae darted from one side to another, getting on all fours to search for the perfect product, unashamedly and unabashedly as Irene looked on, checking her watch momentarily. She was running a few minutes late.

 “Let’s go,” she said, tapping her foot on the white tile.

 “Just a sec,” the florist grunted, balancing his haul in the crook of his elbow. “I found some good ones.” He beamed at the unamused girl, rocking from side to side as he displayed each wax strip one by one.

 “Chocolate, pomegranate, and-” Jongdae eased the last carton from under his arm, where it was tightly clamped, “honey!”

 “You’re tragic.” Irene pushed her hair back from her face and snatched all three boxes, dumping it into the basket.

 They made their way to the front and she buzzed the items through the self-checkout, along with a block of cheddar cheese. They went into seperate bags, and she paid without any hesitation.

 “Here you go,” Irene said, holding up the plastic bag for Jongdae’s convenience. It was packed with the curly receipt and the three shiny containers that promised “smooth skin for weeks!”. The rain had stopped, leaving the trace of a fresh scent in the air. He pried it from her fingers gently and followed her out the exit.

 They paused together by the shopfront, as Irene dug out her car keys.

 “I’m really surprised that you would do something like this.” She tossed the cheese casually in the air.

 “Yeah,” Jongdae replied lamely, shuffling the bag from one arm to another when it started to dig into his hand.

 “I just-never expected you to be a waxing person.” The keychain jingled lightly as she pulled the lanyard from the zippered pocket.

 “About that-” the florist started, holding up a finger.

 “What?” She flicked down her thumb to press the car key.

 “I don’t actually know anything. Like-”

 “You’re kidding me.” Her forehead creased with lines and Irene’s body heaved with a sigh.

 “Idon’tactuallyknowhowtowaxmylegsiwashopingyoucouldteachmeactually-” Jongdae squeaked out.

 The girl simply stood still, covering like a stone figure.

 “Please don’t be mad,” Jongdae begged, kicking a pebble towards the open parking lot.

 “Tonight,” Irene said to herself. “I was supposed to relax, and unwind….”

 “I’ll search up a tutorial-”

 “Get in the car Jongdae, before I change my mind.”

🌟🌟🌟

 Irene’s place always felt warm, cozy and lively, a complete contrast from the organized mess of Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s penthouse.

 “You got the cheddar cheese,” Yeri said, making a face. “I told you to get the provolone!”

 “Hush,” Irene brought a finger to her lips, “it’s the same thing!”

 “No it’s not!” Joy shook her head, always quick to back up her best friend. “We need provolone for our meatball heroes!” 

 “I’ll get it tomorrow,” Irene groaned, ditching the bag onto the kitchen table. “You two should be grateful.”

 “What’s Jongdae doing here?” Yeri bounced up and down in her bunny slippers. “It’s girls night, remember? Last time I checked, he wasn’t a girl!”

 “It’s the twenty-first century.” Joy rubbed her nose and the TV to Netflix.

 “Mean Girls!”

 “We’re going to wax his legs,” the oldest replied, tightening her ponytail. She brushed the baby hairs out of the way. “Take a seat,” Irene said, jutting out her chin at Jongdae.

 He leaped onto the sofa, tucking and rolling into a cannonball. She joined him with a pair of scissors and the wax strips in her hand.

 "It smells like meatballs,” he murmured.

 “That’s our sandwiches in the oven.” Joy scooted over to make room for Irene and Yeri.

 “You need to strip,” Irene said, looking at him directly.

 “W-what?” Jongdae sunk down into the sofa, buried under a nest of decorative pillows and plushies. He made himself comfortable, with his head lolling forwards to give him neck rolls, and a formidable double chin.

 “Take off your pants,” Yeri said. The girls sat themselves in a circle around him.

 Kicking off his jeans, which proved to be a difficult task because they were so tight, he laid back down, the slightly cool air hitting his bare legs. The florist wanted to curl into a ball, and he felt strangely vulnerable as the three girls studied him, eyes flickering over his thin body in a judgemental way.

 “Shrimp boxers,” Joy and Yeri echoed at the same time. There was the rustle of a box; it was honey scented, and Irene chucked his pants on the floor, crossing her legs to sit closer.

 Jongdae’s face was burning, but his legs were freezing. It felt like he was in the operating room, he shut his eyes tight, gripping onto the cushions for support.

 “Relax,” Joy said soothingly. She patted his arm, and he opened his eyelids just a peek, to see Irene rubbing a strip between the palms of her hands. The girl handed it off the her little sister, who peeled the yellow wax apart.

 It was cold and slimy when it hit his skin, just above his knee. He felt a pair of slender fingers, gently pressing the strip.

 “Take a deep breath. You’re doing great.” Joy’s breath tickled his cheek, and Yeri rose up on her knees, firmly grasping the edge of the paper.

 “Three….”

 Jongdae swallowed hard.

 “Two….”

 He was a man. He was strong. Minseok could do it…..he could do it too.

 “One….”

 It came off with a loud rrrrrip, and his legs kicked out anyways, hitting Yeri clean off the couch as he howled in pain. She hit the floor with a bang, and her hair spread out in a fan on the back of her neck.

 “! HOLY !” His voice cracked.

 The pain was awful, and burned with a stinging intensity. Jongdae hissed between his teeth, blinking away tears.

 “Ow….” he croaked, and Irene pulled him up, smiling.

 “A spicy reaction,” Yeri said from the floor, holding in her laughter.

 “A spicy reaction indeed,” Joy replied, patting the choked-up boy on the back.

 “That ing …” Jongdae groaned. Thankfully, the initial fires of hell that had attacked his leg were beginning to diminish, but he was not looking forward to doing it again.

 “Women have a higher pain tolerance than men,” Irene handed him the other half of the strip, “so I’d suggest you’d do it yourself.”

 “I’ll do it with you!” Yeri pushed Joy out of the way, and sat facing him.

 “So you don’t kick me off the couch again.” She extended her legs, prickly with peach fuzz, and smoothed the strip in a downwards motion with the pad of her finger. Jongdae copied her movements as best he could.

 “Now,” Yeri held her thigh securely, “you pull the opposite direction. Like this.” It came off with the same loud rrrrip, and she blinked a few times, her neck growing blotchy.

 “Your turn.”

 Hesitantly, he peeled the lower end up, and ripped it off with all his strength. The red hot pain set off fireworks, before fizzling away. Jongdae hadn’t even realized he was crying until somebody handed him a tissue.

 “Getting better,” Irene nodded approvingly. She threw the box towards him, and it landed on his hoodie. Joy watched as the third, then the fourth strip came off his leg, pausing intermittently to hand him another Kleenex when the pain got to too much.

 It was difficult to watch Mean Girls with all the screaming, so they formed an assembly line instead. Yeri warmed the strips in between her hands, Joy dabbed at the tears, and Irene threw them out into a plastic wastebasket, folding them lengthwise and trying not to lose her appetite.

 Before long, the box was empty, and Jongdae’s legs seriously shone. Not like the sun, but like greasy hot dogs; red and hair-free.

 Joy handed him an aloe salve with green bubbles, and ushered him off to the washroom with another stack of wax.

 “Do your balls,” Yeri looked up from the TV screen. She sprawled out on her stomach and kicked her legs. “After you’re done, use the aloe vera. It helps with the redness.”

 Irene gave him his black skinny jeans, and tossed the pillows on the ground, diving into the makeshift pit.

 “And be gentle,” she called after him, “or else you’re going to rip off your left nut!”

 He heard a high-pitched giggle from the hallway as he shut the bathroom door behind him.

🍯🍯🍯

 Jongdae waxed efficiently and carefully, burying the strips in the garbage can after he was finished. It hurt to walk from all the chafing, so he applied the aloe generously until it was slick on his legs. The florist also made sure to take his time washing his hands with Irene’s fancy hand soap from Bath and Body Works. It was limited edition Peach Sparkle, and lathered like a dream.

 Joy, Irene, and Yeri were already laying in the living room, half-suffocated by an expanse of throws and plushies. The youngest girl looked up when he entered, tucking a meatball into her chin that jutted out like an unsightly tumor.

 He helped himself to a meatball sandwich; nobody seemed to mind. Jongdae even went as far to his fingers.

 Irene pushed the plates into the dishwasher once they had all finished eating. Mean Girls was already nearing the ending scene, and Jongdae wondered if he had overstayed his welcome.

 He reached for his plastic bag on the counter; Yeri and her sister were staring at the credits, and Joy was chopping something in the kitchen that smelled acidic.

 “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Jongdae felt a blunt whack on his hand and made eye contact with Joy.

 “I’m leaving. You’ve already taught me all I’ve needed to know.” He took a sarcastic bow. “Senseis’ of cold wax strips.”

 “Nuh-uh. Once you girls night in, you don’t girls night out.”

 “That’s a terrible- pun,” Yeri shouted over the ending music. “It doesn’t even flow well.”

 “You’re serious?”

 “One-hundred percent.” Irene dashed towards the door and blocked it anyways.

 “Can I go home?” Jongdae asked, bouncing his knee and almost whining.

 “No.”

 “Can I go home?”

 “No.”

 “Can I go home?”

 “Kim Jongdae, one of us is going to move first, and it sure as hell won’t be me.”

 Joy stepped in between the two of them, completely obscuring Irene with her tall frame. “I have a knife, and I’m not afraid to use it. So go sit down, and make yourself comfortable.” 

 Sighing, Jongdae took a spot on the last cushion left on the sofa, and crossed his arms over his chest, blowing a lock of his hair from his face. Yeri rolled over and switched off the TV, leaping to her feet in a single move.

 “What do I do now?” he cried out, holding out his arms.

 Joy stopped with her chopping, setting down the blade on the cutting board and brushing her palms.

 “Sit tight, the night is still young…”

 “Can you stop speaking in your cryptic codes? What do you guys usually even do anyways?”

 Yeri excused herself, and returned from the washroom with a glittery gold pouch in hand. She waved her sister over, and they talked under their breath in hushed voices before breaking apart.

 They both sat around Jongdae; Irene to the right, and Yeri to the left.

 “What’s going on?” His eyebrows perked up.

 “We’re going to give you a makeover!”

💄💄💄

 

1. Hair

 They started simply, with Irene pumping a fluffy substance into her hand, and working it gently into Jongdae’s scalp. She pulled gently at the strands, and her thin, white fingers moved as softly as she could, combing and parting his hair.

 “You should try a different color.” Yeri piped up across from him, holding up the vanity mirror. She yawned softly.

 “I have. I’ve done brown, and blonde.”

 “You’re so vanilla, Jongdae.”

 He blew a raspberry at the high-schooler and she repeated the action right back.

 “Be more like Minseok. He’s done green, blue, purple, orange, and black, blonde, and brown.”

 “Believe me, I am trying to be more like Minseok.”

 “He’s too soft for his own good,” Irene said, drying her hands on a white towel.

 “I’m thinking of getting a purple dip-dye.” Yeri smiled wistfully. “What do you think?”

 “We could get our hair dyed together,” Irene mentioned, teasing the knots from Jongdae’s hair. “I’ll get pink, Wendy can have blue, Seulgi’s will be yellow-”

 “-And I’ll have green,” Joy shouted, dumping something into a bowl.

 “I’d like to see that,” Jongdae said, craning his neck to meet the direction of Irene’s tugs.

 

2. Skin

 Joy brought the slightly wobbly dish to the coffee table, holding it precariously. At first glance, it looked like a fruit tray.

 A barely edible fruit tray.

 Slices of lemon, cucumbers, kiwis lined the platter, a weird combination from the start.

 “Do you ever shave?” Yeri asked, uncorking a jar of sugar scrub. “Your skin feels surprisingly smooth.”

 “It’s just the…..babyface.”

 Slowly, Yeri rubbed the scrub onto his face gently, swiping lines of the sweet-smelling sand across his forehead, chin, then nose bridge. She massaged his cheeks roughly, before handing him a damp washcloth.

 He wiped off the rest of the sugar and examined his reflection in the mirror. His skin was pink, and it glowed with a raw touch. The dark locks that Irene had meticulously styled, hung in a flat, feathery fringe. Jongdae felt fresh and pretty and revived.

 Joy grabbed a cucumber and brought her finger near his face. He ate it out of her hand.

 “What the hell?”

 “It’s a snack,” Jongdae munched.

 “It’s a skin treatment, and it goes on like this.” She peeled two more cucumber slices from the plate and draped them over her eyes. Then, she took little kiwi rounds and positioned them in a circle on her jaw.

 “Taa-daa.”

 Jongdae shook his head with bewilderment as Irene tossed her head back and followed. So did Yeri, who arranged hers with lemons, and they laid down every which way, almost like they were asleep.

 He ate the rest of the cucumbers in the tray, and the kiwis too, but steered clear of everything that looked like it had been touched by yellow.

 When the girls eventually did get up, peeling the fruit slices from their face, Joy handed out real face masks, the sheet kind that he saw at the Face Shop. They were translucent and thin, and smelled like a blueberry candy.

 He placed it gently, pressing the corners so it would stick better and absorb into his skin.

 Jongdae looked up to see three girls staring vacantly back at him, their white masks obscuring everything but their mouths and eyes.

 “Not gonna lie,” Jongdae said quickly, composing himself, “that’s some scary .”

 Yeri burst into a fit of giggles. “We look like a cult.”

 Irene rolled her eyes, but opened the Photos app on her phone anyways.

 “Gather around, girls….and boy….” she added. They crowded around the camera, which Joy gladly took because she had the longest arms. Yeri and Jongdae made finger hearts, while Irene threw up her deuces.

 “Say cheese…”

 The shutter snapped with a satisfying click.

 

3. A Full Face of Makeup

 He found himself sitting on the sofa, just a few minutes later, Wendy grasping his left hand while Seulgi worked on his right.

 “Nail file,” Wendy ordered, and Yeri pressed it into her hand. “Thank you.”

 “My nose is itchy,” Jongdae complained. Seulgi pulled his wrist back down and pumped the nail brush into the bottle, dragging a clear coat of the polish onto his nails.

 “Girls night?” she asked. “You didn’t invite us, but you invited him?”

 Irene stared at the ground. “Technically, Yeri did call you in the end.”

 “My nose is really really itchy!” the boy said, clearly irked. Joy reached across and scratched it for him.

 “Thank you!”

 Wendy capped the bottle and screwed on the black plastic top. “They’ll dry in about fifteen minutes. Just try to sit still while we do your makeup.”

 “I don’t need you to show me-I already do it myself.” Jongdae blew on his nails waving his hands around.

 “We’ll make you look better. We’ll make you look so good, you’ll stare at your own reflection at the end of the night and think, man, I want to that boy.” Seulgi grinned and pointed at Irene. “Would you get in bed with Jongdae?”

 “I’m a lesbian.”

 “We’ll make you look so damn good, it’ll turn Irene straight!” She clapped her hands to order and reached into the glittery bag, fishing out a packet of makeup remover wipes.

 “For the record,” Irene said, “I wouldn’t consider jumping on the bed with him, let alone rolling in the sheets. Sorry bud.”

 Seulgi swiped the cool, wet fabric over his jawline and across his skin, taking off the rest of his BB cream with it. She dabbed on a thin coat of primer, and Wendy soaked a dense sponge into a puddle of foundation.

 “Perfect.” She stuck out her tongue and Jongdae closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of almost being pampered in this way. Wendy covered his face in one coat, then two, pausing to toss her ombre colored hair over her shoulder. Then, Joy went back in with the concealer to cover up any missed spots.

 “Looks flawless.” There was nothing sweeter than female approval.

 Yeri found the powder cushion at the bottom of the bag, and patted it, sending a cloud of the smoke into the air. It went onto the florist’s face, followed by a touch of bronzer from Irene.

 They sat back to admire their work, while Seulgi sharpened the eyebrow pencil, brushing the shavings aside. She tucked her legs in and moved to trace the outline of Jongdae’s stick-straight brows.

 Joy gasped. The eyebrows really did make the look, and his were dark and alluring, accentuating the softness of his shiny eyes.

 Skipping the eyeshadow, Wendy went straight to the eyeliner, a narrow, liquid brush that bled black kohl.

 “I know how to do my eyeliner,” Jongdae said softly.

 “You always do it too thin, or unevenly,” Yeri pointed out.

 “,” Wendy cursed, wiping the tip of the brush on the paper towel. The black line was tapered at the end, creating a messy black blotch.

 “Let me try.” Joy wrest the pen away and drew the line again on the other eyelid. They leaned closer to inspect the handicraft, and shook their heads with disfavour.

 Seulgi gave the eyeliner a try as well, making a few shaky streaks before she gave up altogether and wiped Jongdae’s eyelids clean.

 “I can’t get right,” she said with impatience, making the fourth attempt-and rubbing it away with a wipe.

 “Those are expensive!” Yeri cried, alarmed at the pile that had formed beside her. “They’re special mineral-enriched…”

 “Well, .” Seulgi said. “We might as well give up if we can’t get the goddamn eyeliner to work.” She tossed a dirtied wipe on the ground, angrily. “Screw this.”

 Irene tapped the screen of her phone, before holding it up to her ear.

 “What are you doing?”

 “I’m calling Minseok.”

 “You have his number?” Jongdae’s eyes fluttered open excitedly. “Wait, why are you calling him?”

 "He did his eyeliner damn well that time we went out clubbing.” She waited for a few more seconds, hung up, and dialed again. There was a beep, then a click.

 “Hello?” Irene said into the phone. “It’s Irene. Okay, yeah.”

 There was some inaudible shouting on the other end.

 “Can I put you on speaker?” Irene placed the phone, facedown on the coffee table, and they gathered around like a campfire.

 There was a deep cackle, then a whisper, and the bang of metal.

 “Hey.” Minseok’s voice was shaky and flustered, but Jongdae recognized it right away. Another booming laugh, followed by the sharp sound of scratched glass that made everyone in the room wince.

 “God, what the hell?!” Wendy jumped back, shivering,

 “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m at this KBBQ restaurant with Lu-uh….Luhan.”

 “Oh, if you two are on a date, I really shouldn’t have interrupted-”

 “No, no. He just works here...it’s really no problem. We’re having dinner, that’s all.”

 “Okay.”

 “So, what do you need help with?”

 “We’re giving Jongdae a makeover, and we can’t get the eyeliner right.”

 “A dire situation indeed,” Jongdae imagined Minseok his lips, “send me a picture after you’re done.”

 Everyone turned to look at Jongdae suggestively.

 “So, I guess you remove the cap…”

 “Mhm….” Irene did as instructed.

 “Now you draw the thin outline….”

 “Got it.”

 “After that, you make a little loop-”

 “DADDY! HARDER!”

 Irene’s eyebrows shot up.

 “YES, RIGHT THERE, HARDER, FASTER!”

 “What the ? There are children under 18, on the premises, Minseok!”

 “I-I’m so sorry, Irene! Shut up, Lu!”

 "Oh, make me…..alpha.”

 “Seriously, Luhan, I swear to god…..I’m not kidding. I’ll cut your balls off with these meat scissors, right here.”

 “Chill, Seok,” the Chinese sputtered.

 “Minseok, you’re still there?”

 “Yeah, I’m really, so so sorry. Did you draw the loop?”

 “Yes.”

 “Okay, now fill that in.”

 Another screechy sound rang out.

 “Did you fill it in?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Now make the crease part thicker, and do the bottom.” Irene went slowly, and hesitantly, dragging the brush across Jongdae’s eyelids. Then, she leaned back to see what she had done.

 Exactly as she imagined, it was sharp, and symmetrical. It really did make his eyes pop.

 “Thanks, Minseok. You can get back to enjoying the rest of your dinner here,” she whispered into the phone. “I’ll text you a photo after we’re done.”

 “You’re welcome. And say hi to Jongdae for me.”

 “ ME, DADDY!”

 Joy flinched.

 “Shut up, Luhan, or else your won’t see the everloving light of day.”

 Irene hung up promptly, frowning. Meanwhile, Joy demanded he close his eyes, and gave him a light dusting of blush with the fan brush.

 “You’re blushing….” Yeri said.

 “I think that’s just the-”

 “You were blushing when Minseok was on the phone.”

 “She’s right.” Seulgi burnished on some highlighter, and her finger.

 “Well, you know. Just some friendly bromance.”

 “Just some friendly bromance,” Wendy parroted, shaking the lip gloss in her hand. She looked unconvinced.

 Jongdae wasn’t even sure what to feel about Minseok. They were friends, he supposed, but Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Junmyeon were also his friends, and it felt completely different with them. He didn’t think he had a crush; he called him y once or twice, but Jongdae almost wanted to be there to protect Minseok from the awful world. He wanted to almost make him be his partner in crime.

 Minseok was cute, and funny. Maybe, even attractive, not like Jongdae’s ego was too fragile to admit it. He had the softest cheeks, the prettiest eyes, and the best smile. But friends could notice these things about each other, right?

 The gloss felt heavy and cold on his mouth.

 What did Minseok think of him? He posed robotically, and let somebody snap a quick picture.

 Irene airdropped it to his phone.

 “You’re all set,” Joy declared, spraying the makeup setter all over his face.

 “Stop that!” Yeri wailed. “It’s a worse pun than before!”

 Wendy showed him the photo of himself, and his jaw dropped.

 “Holy , t-that’s me?” Jongdae’s hands instinctively went towards his face, but Seulgi swatted them away.

 “Would you that boy?” she asked, seriously.

 Irene stuck out her tongue and wrinkled her nose at the same time that Jongdae nodded his head.

 “We’re done, then.” Yeri’s shoulders heaved, and she tossed the brush into the bag carelessly, spattering powder everywhere.

💅💅💅

 He trudged his feet back to his apartment, and let out an elongated sigh when he got there. Rifling through the bag, he found a sachet of makeup wipes, which he tore open and scrubbed down his face with.

 Too tired to produce any coherent thoughts, Jongdae rolled into bed, and let the overwhelming air of exhaustion claim him.

💤💤💤

 “So, guess what?”

 Minseok raised his eyebrows, and used the bridge of his nose to nudge up his fallen sleeve. It was brown from rolling in a dust of cocoa powder, and his fingertips were red from burns sustained from hot chocolate(today's special).

 “Marshmallow,” he crooned out, squishing the white confections between his thumb and pointer finger.

 “Will you stop getting distracted by those candies and listen to me?”

 “Jealous of a marshmallow, Jongdae?” Minseok laughed, and poured a handful into the steaming brown liquid.

 “No. And stop singing.”

 “Marshmallow,” the barista sang under his breath, staring longingly at the cup he held between his hands.

 “STOP.”

 “Why? Because it’s annoying?”

 “Because it’s cute,” Jongdae admitted, biting his lip.

 “Well, thanks.” Minseok shifted his feet, grinning over his shoulder. “What did you want to show me?”

 “Remember your legs?”

 “How could I forget?” The blonde looked down to make sure his legs were there; they definitely were.

 “They’ve been running through my mind all day and all night.”

 “I don’t get it.”

 “Let’s say,” Jongdae’s fingers curled under the hem of his pants, “I was a little more than inspired.” In one movement, the sweatpants dropped to the ground, and Minseok gasped.

 “Calm down! I’m still wearing shorts underneath!” The dark-haired boy turned around, and wiggled his slightly, giving his friend quite the show.

 The older simply covered his mouth; to prevent himself from laughing uncontrollably, and his eyes; to deflect the secondhand embarrassment. And of course, Jongdae would come during the morning, in stark daylight, to flash every. single. patron.

 “Was this just a ploy to get me to check out your ?” The barista leaned against the counter, glad that Irene wasn’t working a shift today, or else this would never fly by.

 “Maybe…” Jongdae smiled slyly, and pointed his toes to flex the muscles in his impossibly shiny leg.

 “Damn. Somebody had a glowup.”

 “The girls helped me.”

 “I can see why. It would’ve been a disaster.”

 “Dare I say my legs are better than yours?”

 “I wouldn’t count on it.” Minseok rolled his eyes, and let a smile surface.

 “Why not? Mine are sleeker, and longer!”

 “We’re the same height.”

 “I’m a centimeter taller than you!”

 “Same height.”

 “I’m taller!”

 “This is like that Mamamoo song….”

 “Stop trying to change the subject! You’re just jealous of me!” Jongdae cried out, losing his balance in the process.

 “Smooth, Jongdae. Very smooth.” Minseok winked, and took a sip of the hot chocolate, making sure to take a of the puffy cloud of molten marshmallows.

 “What? My legs, or my amazing pickup line skills?”

 “Both. Both…”