“NOW WHERE ARE you going?” Jungkook asked, lowering his red plastic sunglasses.

He’d appeared outside the entrance of Augustine so suddenly that Jin almost plowed right into him. Or maybe he’d been there awhile and he just hadn’t noticed in his haste to get to class. Either way, his heart started beating quickly and his palms began to sweat.

“Um, class?” Jin answered, because where did it look like he was going? His arms were full, with his two hefty calculus books and his half-completed religion assignment.

This would have been a good time to apologize for leaving so suddenly last night. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was already so late. There hadn’t been any hot water in the locker showers, so he’d had to trek all the way back to the dorm. Somehow, what had happened after the party didn’t seem important anymore. He didn’t want to draw any more attention to him leaving—especially not now, after Taehyung had made him feel so pathetic. He also didn’t want Jungkook to think he was being rude. He just wanted to steer past him and be by himself so he could move on from this morning’s string of embarrassments.

Except—the longer Jungkook gazed at him, the less important it felt to leave. And the less Jin’s pride stung over Taehyung’s dismissal. How could one look from Jungkook do all that?

With his clear, pale skin and jet-black hair, Jungkook was different from any guy he’d ever known. He exuded confidence, and not just because he knew everyone— and how to get everything—before Jin had even figured out where his classes were. Right then, standing outside the drab, gray school building, Jungkook looked like an arty black-and-white photograph, his red shades Technicolored in.

“Class, eh?” Jungkook yawned dramatically. He was blocking the entrance, and something about the amused way his mouth was set made Jin want to know what wild idea he had up his sleeve. There was a canvas bag slung over his shoulder, and a disposable espresso cup between his fingers. He pressed Stop on his iPod, but left the earbuds dangling around his neck. Part of him wanted to know what song he’d been listening to, and where he’d gotten that black-market espresso. The playful smile visible only in his dark brown eyes dared him to ask.

Jungkook skimmed a sip off the top of his coffee. Holding up his index finger, he said, “Allow me to share my motto about Sword & Cross classes: Better never than late.”

Jin laughed, and then Jungkook pushed his sunglasses back up on his nose. The lenses were so dark, he couldn’t see even a hint of his eyes.

“Besides.” He smiled, flashing him a white arch of teeth. “It’s just about lunchtime, and I’ve got a picnic.”

Lunchtime? Jin hadn’t even had breakfast yet. But his stomach was growling—and the idea of being reamed by Mr. Lee for missing all but the last twenty minutes of morning classes seemed less and less appealing the longer he stood next to Jungkook.

Jin nodded at the bag he was holding. “Did you pack enough for two?”

Steering Jin with a broad hand on the small of his back, Jungkook led him across the  commons, past the library and the dismal dorm. At the metal gates to the cemetery, he stopped.

“I know this is a weird place for a picnic,” he explained, “but it’s the best spot I know to dip out of sight for a little while. On campus, anyway. Sometimes I just can’t breathe in there.” He gestured toward the building.

Jin could definitely relate to that. He felt both stifled and exposed almost all the time at this place. But Jungkook seemed like the last person who would share that new-student syndrome. He was so … collected. After that party last night, and now the forbidden espresso in his hand, he would never have guessed he’d feel suffocated, too. Or that he’d pick him to share the feeling with.

Past his head, he could see the rest of the run-down campus. From here, there wasn’t much of a difference between one side of the cemetery gates and the other.

Jin decided to go with it. “Just promise to save me if any statues topple over.”

“No,” Jungkook said with a seriousness that effectively erased his joke. “That won’t happen again.”

His eyes fell on the spot where only days earlier, he and Taehyung had come close to ending up in the cemetery themselves. But the marble angel that had toppled over them was gone, its pedestal bare.

“Come on,” Jungkook said, tugging Jin along with him. They sidestepped overgrown patches of weeds, and Jungkook kept turning to help him over mounds of dirt burrowed out by who-knew-what.

At one point, Jin nearly lost his balance and grabbed on to one of the headstones to steady himself. It was a large, polished slab with one rough, unfinished side.

“I’ve always liked that one,” Jungkook said, gesturing at the pinkish headstone under his fingers. Jin crossed around to the front of the plot to read the inscription.

“‘Joseph Miley,’” he read aloud. “‘1821 to 1865. Bravely served in the War of Northern Aggression. Survived three bullets and five horses felled from under him before meeting his final peace.’”

Jin cracked his knuckles. Maybe Jungkook only liked it because its polished pinkish stone stood out among the mostly gray ones? Or because of the intricate whorls in the crest along the top? He raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah.” Jungkook shrugged. “I just like how the headstone explains the way he died. It’s honest, you know? Usually, people don’t want to go there.”

Jin looked away. He knew that all too well from the inscrutable epitaph on Yi Jung’s tombstone.

“Think how much more interesting this place would be if everyone’s cause of death was chiseled in.” He pointed to a small grave a few plots down from Joseph Miley’s. “How do you think she died?”

“Um, scarlet fever?” Jin guessed, wandering over.

He traced the dates with his fingers. The girl buried here had been younger than Jin when she died. Jin didn’t really want to think too hard about how it might have happened.

Jungkook tilted his head, considering. “Maybe,” he said. “Either that or a mysterious barn fire while young Betsy was taking an innocent ‘nap’ with the neighbor boy.”

Jin started to pretend to act offended, but instead Jungkook’s expectant face made him laugh. It had been a long time since he’d just goofed off with a guy. Sure, this scene was a bit more morbid than the typical movie theater parking lot flirtations he was used to, but so were the students at Sword & Cross. For better or worse, Jin was one of them now.

He followed Jungkook to the bottom of the bowl-like graveyard and the more ornate tombs and mausoleums. On the slope above, the headstones seemed to be looking down at them, like Jin and Jungkook were performers in an amphitheater. The midday sun glowed orange through the leaves of a giant live oak tree in the cemetery, and Jin shaded his eyes with his hands. It was the hottest day they’d had all week.

“Now, this guy,” Jungkook said, pointing to a huge tomb framed by Corinthian columns. “Total draft dodger. He suffocated when a beam collapsed in his basement. Which just goes to show you, never hide out from a Confederate roundup.”

“Is that so?” Jin asked. “Remind me what makes you the expert on all of this?” Even as he , Jin felt strangely privileged to be there with Jungkook. He kept glancing at him to make sure he was smiling.

“It’s just a sixth sense.” He flashed him a big, innocent grin. “If you like it, there’s a seventh sense, and an eight sense, and a ninth sense where that came from.”

“Impressive.” He smiled. “I’ll settle for the sense of taste right now. I’m starving.”

“At your service.” Jungkook pulled a blanket from his tote bag and spread it out in a scrap of shade under the live oak tree. He unscrewed a thermos and Jin could smell the strong espresso. He didn’t usually drink his coffee black, but he watched as he filled a tumbler with ice, poured the espresso over it, and added just the right amount of milk to the top. “I forgot to bring sugar,” he said.

“I don’t take sugar.” He took a sip from the bone-dry iced latte, his first delicious sip of Sword & Cross– prohibited caffeine all week.

“That’s lucky,” Jungkook said, spreading out the rest of the picnic. Jin’s eyes grew wide as he watched him arrange the food: a dark brown baguette, a small round of oozy cheese, a terra-cotta tub of olives, a bowl of deviled eggs, and two bright green apples. It didn’t seem possible that Jungkook had fit all that in his bag—or that he’d been planning on eating all this food by himself.

“Where did you get this?” Jin asked. Pretending to focus on tearing off a hunk of bread, he asked, “And who else were you planning on picnicking with before I came along?”

“Before you came along?” Jungkook laughed. “I can hardly remember my bleak life before you.”

Jin gave him the slightest of snide looks so he’d know that he found the remark incredibly cheesy … and just a little bit charming. He leaned back on his elbows on the blanket, his legs crossed at the ankles. Jungkook was sitting cross-legged facing him, and when he reached over him for the cheese knife, his arm brushed, then rested on, the knee of Jin's black jeans. He looked up at him, as if to ask, Is this okay?

When he didn’t flinch, he stayed there, taking the hunk of baguette from his hand and using his leg like a tabletop while he spread a triangle of cheese onto the bread. Jin liked the feeling of his weight on him, and in this heat, that was saying something.

“I’ll start with the easier question first,” he said, finally sitting back up. “I help out in the kitchen a couple of days a week. Part of my readmittance agreement at Sword & Cross. I’m supposed to be ‘giving back.’” He rolled his eyes. “But I don’t mind it in there. I guess I like the heat. That is, if you don’t count the grease burns.” He held out his upturned wrists to expose dozens of tiny scars on his forearms. “Occupational hazard,” he said casually. “But I do get the run of the pantry.”

Jin couldn’t resist running his fingers along them, the infinitesimal pale swells fading back into his paler skin. Before he could feel embarrassed by his forwardness and pull away, Jungkook grabbed his hand and squeezed.

Jin stared at his fingers wrapped around his. He hadn’t realized before how the shades of their skin are so different. Jin's little tanned skin had always made him feel self-conscious. But Jungkook’s skin was so striking, so noticeable, almost metallic. His shoulders shivered and he felt a little dizzy.

“Are you cold?” he asked quietly.

When Jin met his eyes, he knew he wasn’t cold.

Jungkook scooted closer on the blanket and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Now I guess you’re going to want me to admit that I saw you crossing the quad through the kitchen window and packed all this up in the hopes of convincing you to skip class with me?”

This was when Jin would have fished in his drink for ice, if it hadn’t already melted in the stale September heat.

“And you had this whole scheme of a romantic picnic,” Jin finished. “In the scenic cemetery?”

“Hey.” He ran a finger along Jin's bottom lip. “You’re the one bringing up romance.”

Jin pulled back. He was right—he’d been the presumptuous one … for the second time that day. He could feel his cheeks burn as he tried not to think about Taehyung.

“I’m kidding,” he said, shaking his head at the stricken look on his face. “As if that weren’t obvious.” He gazed up at a turkey vulture circling a great white statue shaped like a cannon. “I know it’s no Eden here,” he said, tossing Jin an apple, “but just pretend we’re in a Smiths song. And to my credit, it’s not like there’s much to work with at this school.”

That was putting it mildly.

“The way I see it,” Jungkook said, leaning back on the blanket, “location is negligible.”

Jin shot him a doubtful look. He also wished he hadn’t leaned away, but he was too shy to approach when he was reclining on his side.

“Where I grew up”—he paused—“things weren’t so different from the penitentiary-style living at Sword & Cross. The upshot is I’m officially immune to my surroundings.”

“No way.” Jin shook his head. “If I handed you a plane ticket to California right now, you wouldn’t be totally thrilled to break out of here?”

“Mmm … mildly indifferent,” Jungkook said, popping a deviled egg into his mouth.

“I don’t believe you.” Jin gave him a shove.

“Then you must have had a happy childhood.”

Jin bit into the chewy green skin of the apple and the juice running down his fingers. He ran through a mental catalog of all the parental frowns, doctors’ visits, and school changes of his childhood, the black shadows hanging like a shroud over everything. No, he wouldn’t say he’d had a happy childhood. But if Jungkook couldn’t even see a way out of Sword & Cross, something more hopeful on the horizon, then maybe his had been worse.

There was a rustling at their feet and Jin snapped into a ball when a thick green-and-yellow snake slithered past. Trying not to get too close, he rolled to his knees and peered down at it. Not just a snake, but a snake in the middle of shedding its skin. A translucent case was coming off its tail. There were snakes all over Georgia, but he’d never seen one molt.

“Don’t scream,” Jungkook said, resting a hand on Jin’s knee. His touch did make Jin feel safer. “He’ll move on if we just leave him alone.”

It couldn’t happen quickly enough. Jin wanted very badly to scream. He had always hated and feared snakes. They were just so slithery and scaly and … “Eugh.” He shivered, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the snake until it had disappeared in the long grass.

Jungkook smirked as he picked up the shed skin and placed it in his hand. It still felt alive, like the dewy skin on a bulb of garlic his father had pulled fresh from his garden. But it had just come off a snake. Gross. He tossed it back on the ground and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Come on, you didn’t think it was cute?”

“Did my trembling give it away?” Jin was already feeling a bit embarrassed by how childish he must have looked.

“What about your faith in the power of transformation?” Jungkook asked, the shed skin. “That’s what we’re here for, after all.”

Jungkook had taken off his sunglasses. His eyes were so confident. He was holding that inhumanly still pose again, waiting for him to answer.

“I’m starting to think you’re a little bit strange,” he said finally, cracking the tiniest smile.

“Oh, and just think how much more there is to know about me,” he replied, leaning in closer. Closer than he had when the snake came. Closer than he’d been expecting him to. He reached out and slowly ran his fingers through Jin's hair. Jin tensed up.

Jungkook was gorgeous and intriguing. What he couldn’t figure out was how, when he should have been a bundle of nerves—like right then—he still somehow felt comfortable. He wanted to be right where he was. He couldn’t take his eyes off Jungkook's lips, which were pink and appealing and moving closer, making Jin feel even dizzier. His shoulder brushed Jins and he felt a strange shiver deep inside his chest. He watched as Jungkook parted his lips. Then he closed his eyes.

“There y’all are!” A breathless voice pulled Jin right out of the moment.

Jin let out an exasperated sigh and shifted his attention to Hoseok, who was standing before them with an oblivious grin on his face.

“I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“Why on earth would you be doing such a thing?” Jungkook glowered at him, scoring him a few more points with Jin.

“Cemetery was the last place I thought of,” Hoseok rattled on, counting on his fingers. “I checked your dorm rooms, then under the bleachers, then—”

“What do you want, Hoseok?” Jungkook cut him off, like a sibling, like they’d known each other a long time. 

Hoseok blinked, then bit his lip. “It was Mr. Bogum,” he said finally, snapping his fingers. “That’s right. He got frantic when Jin didn’t show up for class. Kept saying how you were such a promising student and all that.”

Jin couldn’t read this boy. Was he for real and just following orders? Was he mocking Jin for making a good impression on a teacher? Was it not enough for him to have Taehyung wrapped around his finger—he had to move in on Jungkook now, too?

Hoseok must have sensed that he was interrupting something, but he just stood there blinking his eyes. “Well, come on,” he said finally, sticking out both hands to help Jin and Jungkook up. “Let’s get you back to class.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Seokjin, you can have station three,” Mr. Bogum said, looking down at a sheet of paper when Jin, Jungkook, and Hoseok entered the library. No Where have you been? No points off for tardiness. Just Mr. Bogum, absently placing Jin next to Ken in the computer lab section of the library. Like he hadn’t even noticed that Jin had been gone.

Jin shot Hoseok an accusatory look, but he just shrugged at Jin and mouthed, “What?”

“Wherehaveyoubeen?” Ken demanded as soon as he sat down. The only person who seemed to notice he’d been gone at all.

Jin's eyes found Taehyung, who was practically burrowed into his computer at station seven. From his seat, all Jin could see of him was the blond halo of his hair, but it was enough to bring a flush to his cheeks. He sank lower in his chair, mortified all over again by their conversation in the gym.

Even after all the laughs and smiles and that one potential near kiss he’d just shared with Jungkook, he couldn’t shut out what he felt when he saw Taehyung.

And they were never going to be together.

That was the gist of what he had told him in the gym. After he’d basically thrown himself at him.

The rejection cut him so deeply, so close to his heart, he felt certain everyone around him could take one look at him and know exactly what had happened.

Ken was tapping his pencil impatiently on Jin’s desk. But Jin didn’t know how to explain. His picnic with Jungkook had been interrupted by Hoseok before Jin had even been able to really make sense of what was happening. Or about to happen. But what was weird, and what he couldn’t figure out, was why all of that felt so much less important than what had happened in the gym with Taehyung.

Mr. Bogum stood in the middle of the computer lab, snapping his fingers in the air like a preschool teacher to get the students’ attention. His stacks of silver bangle bracelets chimed like bells.

“If any of you have ever traced your own family tree,” he called over the din of the crowd, “then you’ll know what sorts of treasures lie buried in the roots.”

“Oh, jeez, please kill that metaphor,” Ken whispered. “Or kill me. One or the other.”

“You’ll have twenty minutes’ access to the Internet to begin researching your own family tree,” Mr. Bogum said, tapping a stopwatch. “A generation is roughly twenty to twenty-five years, so aim to go back at least six generations.”

Groan.

An audible sigh erupted from station seven—Taehyung.

Mr. Bogum turned to him. “Taehyung? Do you have a problem with this assignment?”

He sighed again and shrugged. “No, not at all. That’s fine. My family tree. Should be interesting.”

Mr. Bogum tilted his head quizzically. “I’ll take that statement for an enthusiastic endorsement.” Addressing the class again, he said, “I trust you’ll find a line worth pursuing in a ten- to fifteen-page research paper.”

Jin could not possibly focus on this right now. Not when there was so much else to process. He and Jungkook in the cemetery. Maybe it hadn’t been the standard definition of romantic, but Jin almost preferred it that way. It was like nothing he’d ever done before. Skipping class to mosey through all those graves. Sharing that picnic, while he refilled his perfectly made latte. Making fun of his fear of snakes. Well, he could have done without that whole snake development, but at least Jungkook had been sweet about it. Sweeter than Taehyung had been all week.

He hated to admit that, but it was true. Taehyung wasn’t interested.

Jungkook, on the other hand …

He studied him, a few stations away. He winked at him before he began pecking at his keyboard. So he liked him. Sandeul wasn’t going to be able to shut up about how obviously into him he was.

He wanted to call Sandeul now, to bolt out of this library and take a rain check on the family tree assignment. Talking up another guy was the fastest—maybe the only—way to get Taehyung out of his head. But there was that horrible Sword & Cross phone policy, and all the other students around him, who looked so diligent. Mr. Bogum’s tiny eyes panned the class for procrastinators.

Jin sighed, defeated, and opened the search engine on his computer. He was stuck here for another twenty minutes—with not one brain cell devoted to his assignment. The last thing he wanted to do was learn about his own boring family. Instead, his listless fingers began to tap out eleven letters entirely of their own accord:

"Kim Taehyung.”

Search.