“Really? I can’t believe it!”

 “What? You can’t believe you have to suffer?” The voice on the other end of the phone chortled.

 “No! This is great news! I swear!” Minseok cradled his own face in his hands. “It’s been forever since I’ve last seen you!”

 A laugh came from the other side, followed by a tsk-tsk.

 “Well, remember that I’m only coming here for a month or two to finish up the dance production. After that, I’m off with the troupe to do some work in China."

 “I don’t care! I’m just so glad we have a chance to catch up on things!”

 “Me too, me too. Now, you don’t mind me asking for a favour, right?”

 Of course. Minseok narrowed his eyes. “You want me to pick you up from the airport?”

 “Yes, that. I know my best friend, who I can always count on in a pinch.”

 “And…”

 “And I didn’t find a place to stay, goddammit! Because the stupid Airbnb I rented cancelled last minute!” There was a loud slapping sound from the other end, and Minseok slightly flinched.

 “You can always come stay with me, Yixing.”

 “Oh no no no no! I could never! I don’t want to trouble you any further.”

 “It’s no problem.”

 “Remember the last time we roomed together?”

 Minseok smiled fondly. “When we were on that exchange student trip?”

 “You were such a neat freak.” Yixing grouched. “You insisted on making the beds military style every morning even though we already had maids to do it for us.”

 The blonde huffed defensively. “At least I wasn’t an actual freak. You literally pulled my apart when I came out of the shower and asked me if it was refreshing.”

 “You enjoyed it!”

 “Maybe I did….” Minseok his lips.

 “Wait, what?”

 “Nevermind. If you really want to rent, I’m sure there’s some spare apartments next to the place I work. The landlord will probably let you stay. My friend says he’s a bit of a pushover.”

 “Is this the Jongdae friend you keep on mentioning?” Yixing laughed evilly at the yelp that came from his panicked friend, who covered the speaker even if nobody was around to hear in the privacy of his own home.

 “The plane is boarding now,” Yixing said, once he was done snickering. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

 “I know, and I can’t wait.”

✈✈✈

 It wasn’t hard to recognize Yixing from the reaches of the airport terminal. The dancer was definitely the only one wearing a leotard in the rainy weather, and a huge duffle bag swung right and left across his shoulder like a disastrous pendulum.

 “You dyed your hair!” the dancer called after Minseok, who was already racing past the aisles of seats to give his friend a hug. Perhaps he was eager, or maybe he was just struggling to get back to his work before his lunch break ended and Sunny would whoop him.

 “I missed you!” The blonde wrapped his arms and gave Yixing a squeeze. The taller of the two simply patted his friend’s back and leaned in closer. “Careful there with the touching. Might cut yourself on the abs of steel right here.” He knocked on his stomach and pulled his shirt back to reveal a series of sculpted muscles.

 “Ugh. Yixing, I swear…”

 “Okay, okay. Just wanted to say that blonde looks hot as hell on you.” Minseok’s face was hot with embarrassment as he pulled Yixing away from the crowd and into the elevator. “Let’s go, before I really regret this.”

 His friend simply nodded and pressed the button to the parking level, unleashing a cascade of bad elevator music with it.

 “So,” Minseok said, as the elevator lurched, “I’ll take you to the place I work, and you can just take a walk across the street. I think there’s an office in the building somewhere. After my shift’s over, there’s a really good KBBQ place I have to take you to.” His eyes flicked down to his watch, followed by a muttered curse. “Frickety-frack, Sunny’s going to kill me.”

 Yixing simply shrugged and followed Minseok, who had broken into full sprint out the airport doors and through the parking lot, towards a green Volkswagen beetle.

 “Get in,” the shorter of the two ordered, before clambering in himself and shoving the keys into the ignition. The dancer threw his bags into the trunk, and buckled the seatbelt hastily.

 “Really? Green?” Yixing clucked his tongue disapprovingly once they were on the road, speeding through city centre.

 “I thought you were better than that.”

 “Wait till you see my friend. She’s got a basic Honda Civic.”

 The dancer made a face and turned his head to appreciate the scenery of the tall skyscrapers and modern edge of downtown as the buildings sped past him. The car turned down the main road and continued swiftly into the newer sections of town, a mixture of chic looking glass houses and millenial-opened business, separated by neat trimmed foliage in metal planters, tall trees that flashed all the fall colors, and cobblestone paths.

 Minseok pulled the car into a tiny parking space in front of an equally elegant and rustic looking coffee shop. They both stepped out, and Yixing hauled his bag down the stone path, brushing past the tired-looking girl that held the door open for him.

 She wore an apron overtop a collared shirt and a sweater vest, her hair pulled back into a glossy, dark ponytail. Behind her stood a woman with champagne pink bangs and a messy bun, that wore a variation of the same outfit. Low heels, blouse and a silver skirt, with a half apron tied around her waist.

 “This is your friend, Minseok?” The dark haired girl arched an eyebrow and stared the dancer up and down.

 “Yup,” came the reply. The blonde’s own clothing was strikingly similar. White collared shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, striped apron, dress pants, black shoes.

 Must be his coworkers, Yixing concluded.

Around them, the customers slowly began whispering and turning to stare and point at the mysterious new stranger standing in the middle of the room.

 “Is that him?” a teenage girl whispered. “Lay from Dancing With the Stars?”

 “Shut up, Shuhua. I think you’re imagining things.” The girl who sat from across her picked up a fry.

 “You were on Dancing With the Stars?” Sunny asked, impressed.

 “Semi-finalist.”

 “I told you he was, Soyeon!” The first girl hissed. “Can I have your autograph?”

 Irene turned away, with an expression that emulated “clearly done” on her face as the girl swooned when Yixing scrawled his name on the skin of her forearm.

 Soon, all the fangirls, and some fanboys were lining up to get anything signed by the somewhat famous dancer, who was more than happy. Minseok shook his head, but couldn’t hide his grin.

 “I have to get to work now, but I’ll text you once I get off.”

 His friend nodded, and badly wrote his name on the palm of a squealing fanboy.

 “HYUNG! I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN!”

 🚗🚗🚗

 Junmyeon didn’t expect to see any ripped Chinese dancers showing up at his door in the afternoon asking to lease an apartment, but here he was.

 “Hello,” the stranger said. The landlord couldn’t help but die inside when one of his cheeks twitched into an awkward smile that revealed a perfect dimple.

 “Come in.” He shoved his paperwork to the side. It could wait.

 The man took a seat, and folded his hands nicely in his lap.

 “Can I get your name?” Junmyeon said, adding a flirtatious twinge to the end, just to test it out.

 “Yixing. I just got back from writing that on at least a hundred people’s arms.”

 “Ahh…” Junmyeon replied, even though he had no idea what the other was talking about.

 “How can I help you today?” He moved the silver nameplate with his own name on it across the desk.

 “I’m here to rent. Would you be interested in letting out your new apartment suite? I’ll pay whatever.”

 The landlord immediately decided that he would love this mysterious person even more, not only for their looks, charisma, but for their wallet.

 “Why not?” Junmyeon turned and fetched the purple key from a desk drawer. The room still stunk sickly-sweet of the BonBon Chocolat candle from yesterday. He prayed that Yixing wouldn’t mind.

 “Room 101, first floor.” A thin stack of sheets joined the room key.

 As the dancer filled out the meager pile of forms, Junmyeon quickly prattled his introduction.

 “The key will match the color of your door. The pool is on the top floor, but don’t go because I haven’t cleaned that in ages. You can use the laundromat on Floor 3, but only from seven in the morning to ten at night.”

 “Thank you.” They made tentative eye contact, neither of them breaking, until Yixing stood up, pushing in the chair, and heading out.

 The landlord was almost sad to see him go, but he swallowed and reminded himself to keep everything strictly professional. There is no point in acting strictly on feelings, he thought, easing another candle from the sack that was now resting in his storage closet. The scent of the day was “Ice Cream Cake”, a lace pink tube of wax decorated in golden trim.

🍨🍨🍨

 What’s taking him so long? Minseok checked his watch for the fifth time in thirty minutes. Thirty minutes late for the reservation he had made, and Yixing was still nowhere to be found. He fiddled with the sleeve of the red jacket he had changed into, paired with a plain black shirt. It wasn’t like his irritating dancer friend to be late, and if he was going to stand in this apartment lobby, looking tragically out of place any longer…. Minseok’s mind raced.

 What is he doing? Having a snack break? Taking a shower? Doing makeup? Did the landlord hold him up?

  Another two minutes flew by, bringing the total tally to thirty-two. The barista let out a long sigh and plopped down onto the lobby sofa. The text he had sent earlier was left on read, and he wanted to crush his phone into tiny pieces. He would just have to settle for Yixing’s neck later.

 Their reservation was definitely going to be cancelled.

 "Stupid, stupid, wasting my time…."

 “Who’s wasting your time?”

 A tuft of black hair peeked out from the person, obscured by a giant bag of groceries that he was holding.

 “My brainless friend is half an hour late for our reservation. I was supposed to take him out for dinner since we haven’t seen each other for a while…stupid, stupid Yixing.”

 Jongdae smirked. “I think Irene is rubbing off onto you.”

 “Not in the mood.”

 “Totally. You should stop hanging out with her so much.” Jongdae kinda enjoyed this, seeing the usually composed and friendly fluffball get all riled up. It was cute, but in a scary kind of way.

 “NO!” Minseok flapped his arms in pent-up anger, and it looked absolutely adorable.

 “I swear, I’m going to beat him up once I see him. I’m going to pound him into the wall and-”

 “Is this your boyfriend? Cause’ that’s some right there.”

 The arms flapped again, and Jongdae held onto his lip with his teeth, trying to hold in a coo.

 “Come with me, Minseok. I don’t think you want to wait for your friend in this lobby.” He rapped his free hand on a framed picture, and the glass splintered into tiny spiderweb cracks.

 “No. You insulted me back to back.”

 “Please?” The younger batted his eyes pleadingly, staring through his long eyelashes.

 “.........Fine. But only if you promise me you’ll never do that again.”

 “Deal.”

⌚⌚⌚

 “Just a heads-up, my apartment is disgusting because I have a roommate too. His name is Baekhyun, and he spends most of his time playing video games or at his boyfriend’s, so it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

 Sure enough, when Jongdae pushed open the front of the door, Baekhyun was nowhere to be found. Instead, the living room was stripped bare except for the tv, and lined with walls of brown boxes that were messily labeled.

 “It looks like an episode of Hoarders,” Minseok remarked, and Jongdae whacked him with the bag of groceries before whining and stamping his foot.

 “I know, I know. He’s moving out too.”

 “Y’all need Marie Kondo or what?”

 The florist simply muttered something under his breath as he pulled a seemingly unending strand of silly string from the refrigerator. The groceries were splayed out on the counter, a mixture of various potato and cheese products.

 “What?” Jongdae asked, once he had caught Minseok staring. “The two food groups that I eat. Dairy and carbs.”

 “Kim Jongdae, work your magic and tell me how you’re so skinny right now…”

 His friend threw his head back in laughter and swatted Minseok’s stomach with the back of his hand. “You have a goddamn six-pack, look at you!”

 The barista’s face flushed another color, although this time it was from embarrassment, and not anger. A little whine escaped from his mouth and he immediately brought his hands to his face, covering it in shame.

 Thankfully, Jongdae didn't seem to notice, too enthralled in grocery stacking. Minseok must have stood there for five straight minutes, watching Jongdae slowly shove cheese strings into the fridge, and putting single unwashed potatoes in separate glass containers. It drove him crazy how there was no method to this madness.

 What kind of monster eats raw potatoes with unmelted cheese?

 After he was done with the unpacking, Jongdae handed Minseok a cup of coffee, smiling apologetically.

 “I know it’s not good, but it’s the best I have today.”

 The barista sipped slowly, and returned the smile. “It’s okay. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

 They sat around the dining table, both cradling their mugs in silence until one of them finally spoke up.

 “I don’t know you that well,” Jongdae admitted, wringing his hands. “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself so we won’t have to sit here in awkward silence?”

 Minseok raised his eyebrows slightly, and took another gulp of the watery coffee.

 “What do you want to know?”

 Everything. What shows you watch, what music you like, your family, your interests, your passions, your friends, your preferences, so I can lock the facts away in my mind forever and keep a piece of you there.

 Jongdae decided that was far too long and creepy to say, so he settled on “Anything.”

 “I’m Minseok. I’m twenty-three years old, and I’m finishing my last year of university. I’m doing a bachelor’s in language interpreting. I can speak English, Korean, and some Chinese. I have a little sister. My friends all tell me I’m a neat freak and that I look like a cat. My favorite color is blue, and I take baths everyday. Erm...my passion is making coffee. I like eating steamed buns too.…”

 “You look like a little baozi too, don’t you, Minseok?” Jongdae was involuntarily batting his eyelashes now, and propping his head up with his elbows on the table, but the barista didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.

 “Your turn.”

 “I’m Jongdae. I’m twenty-one, in my second year of university...kill me now…...I’m doing botany, but you already knew that, I have an older brother, my favourite color is pink, I’m a big fan of Korean ballad music, I like flowers, and my hobbies are pranking my friends.”

 Minseok nodded slowly, taking his time to digest the new information.

 “Now you ask me,” Jongdae said, “and I’ll answer.”

 There were so many useless questions that he could ask, so many things that Minseok wanted to know. He didn’t mean to say what he had at the back of his mind, but he did it anyways. It was too early in the night for regrets.

 “What’s your ideal type?”

 “My ideal type?” Jongdae looked puzzled.

 “I-....” “Here, I’ll go first!” Minseok spoke quickly, swallowing the lump in his throat.

 Why did you ask this? It’s so upfront. You guys are barely friends.

 “My ideal type would be a person who is cheerful, affectionate, and can easily light up a room.”

 Jongdae nodded along. “For me, I don’t know? It would probably be someone who’s older than me, who takes good care of me and treats me well. My last girlfriend was in my brother’s year, so I had to see her again when he graduated university. It was great. She pretended not to notice me.”

 Minseok had speculated it, but hearing it out loud was the final blow on the head.

 Jongdae wasn’t flirting the whole time. He was just being friendly. He doesn't play for your team. You don't stand a chance. 

 Another lump caught in his throat and his stomach sank as if he was on an emotional rollercoaster. His phone suddenly buzzed and he pulled it out.

 It was Yixing. The idiot had the audacity to send him a message that Minseok was the one who had ditched him, not the other way around.

 “,” he grumbled under his breath, typing a message full of satan heads and angry emojis.

 “I have to go now,” he said, standing up. Jongdae nodded, his facial expression oddly blank.

 “I’ll see you out, then.” He pushed in both of their chairs.

 As Minseok stepped out the door, Jongdae tapped him gently on the shoulder. He turned around, surprised by the unexpected movement.

 “I should have said this earlier, but thank you for the birthday present. I loved it.”

 Minseok forced a smile, unable to ignore the weird feeling in his stomach. “You’re welcome.”

 🥔🥔🥔

 “Yixing, you’re going to be so lucky if I don’t kill you right now.”

 The dancer backed up a step, away from the furious expression that his friend had put on, and down the hallway.

 “You’re fifty minutes late!” Minseok seethed. “We might lose our reservation!”

 “AHH! Well it’s not my fault you suddenly disappeared!” Yixing waved his hands around dramatically.

 “Did you do anything I asked?”

 The taller of the two dangled the key on his finger. “I did.”

 He lead the way down the hall towards a wide door, painted a vibrant shade of violet. “Right here.”

 Minseok prodded Yixing with his elbow as they stood together, admiring his new apartment.

 “You’re welcome by the way. Now you’ll get to see me everyday.”

 “Poor me,” the dancer joked, and was met with a slug in the shoulder.

 “Look, if we hurry, we might have a slim chance of making it. So walk faster, please.”

 “Okay,” Yixing replied, and then lowered his voice into a whisper. “I went to talk to the landlord, and damn.”

 “Huh?”

 “He’s a fine man.”

 “Good lord. Did you ask him out? Did you do anything? Together?”

 “No, but I want to take him to the dance recital. Is that a good idea?” Yixing twiddled his thumbs together, which he hadn’t done since grade school, and Minseok knew it was a dire situation.

 “I say go for it.”

 They walked into the parking lot and got into the car.

 “What if he rejects me, then he hates me? My life is going to be hell if my own landlord wants to feed me to the fiery depths of the underworld.”

 Minseok frowned, turning the steering wheel. “Nah, you have one month here, right? You should make it worth it. And why am I giving you advice? You never listen to me anyways!”

 “True, true.” Yixing his chin thoughtfully.

 “Remember how I said we have tons of catching up to do? I want to hear all about what my favourite choreographer has been doing without me.”

 “So, I’m working on this dance production that supposed to be a rendition of Swan Lake, but in different styles.”

 “You’re going to make birds do tap dancing?”

 “Essentially, but it’s going to be great. You promise you’re going, right?”

 “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Minseok replied, and he really meant it.

 The car stopped outside of a quaint looking storefront and they both climbed out. The smell of roasted meat and strong alcohol wafted into their noses as they entered the animated atmosphere of the restaurant. Everywhere they looked, there were people laughing excitedly, celebrating and doing shots of soju.

 A waiter in a dress vest and a bow tie rushed towards them. He looked almost ethereal in the glowly yellow lighting of the dining area.

 “Minseok? MINSEOK! What the hell?”

 “I know, I know, Luhan.” The blonde pointed at Yixing. “It’s all his fault.”

 “You better be ing glad I saved your table for you. It’s been a whole hour.”

 Luhan waved them towards their table, situated in the back corner, facing the floor to ceiling windows. He dumped the menu on the table.

 “Yixing, meet Luhan. He’s a close friend of mine.”

 The two exchanged pleasantries as Minseok flipped through the menu, struggling to decide. “What do you want?” “Just give me whatever. I’m starved.”

 Luhan headed back into the kitchen, as Yixing quickly poured the soju into little glasses. The handsome waiter quickly came back out, balancing plates of pork belly on his arm.

 “You want to grill this yourself?” They glanced around at each other, before shaking their heads. The waiter sat down with them, pushing Minseok to the side and began his task of expertly grilling the meat, that sizzled satisfying when he laid it on the grill.

 “You’re good at this,” Yixing said. “I’ve been told my meat always feels good in other people’s mouths.”

 “Forgive me,” Minseok groaned as Luhan winked. The dancer’s mouth drooled as the pork was shuffled onto plates.

 “And one more thing,” Luhan mentioned, pulling out a glass dish full of what seemed to be corn, cheese, mayonnaise and sugar. “Try it,” he said to Yixing, in careful Mandarin.

 His jaw dropped as he scooped out the stringy mixture.

 “It’s good,” he fired back in Chinese, slobbering up the gooey golden mixture. Minseok seized the bowl for himself and dug right in with a fork. The scent of caramelized flesh and rendered fat swirled around them.

 Soon, they were all talking in Chinese loudly, not caring if people stared at the three who were speaking Mandarin in a Korean restaurant.

 The soju sloshed in the little glass as Minseok picked it up.

 “I’d like to propose a toast to my friend Yixing, principal choreographer and tardy . May good fortune befall us all.” Luhan raised his glass as well, and the dancer followed him.

 “CHEERS!”