Group chat “kool kids XD”: Jongin 🧸🐶, Kim Junmyeon, 😎MANhan⚽, HIS HIGHNESS ✨👑🙇, 💕vivi’s dad💕, Kyungsoo

Kim Junmyeon

Happy Saturday everyone :) I’m excited for formal tonight! How are you guys getting to the venue?

HIS HIGHNESS ✨👑🙇

Hiiiii good morning

Wow I’m actually up before noon on a weekend this is life changing

Chanyeol and I are taking the subway to formal lmao

😎MANhan⚽

Yo bois

Sehun and I are taking the subway too

What stop are you guys meeting at? We should meet up for dinner beforehand

HIS HIGHNESS ✨👑🙇

Euljiro 1-ga?

There’s a spicy stir fried chicken place there and bubble tea for Sehun

😎MANhan⚽

Sounds good!! See you at 6?

We’re going to be all dressed up at a random restaurant lol

HIS HIGHNESS ✨👑🙇

Gotta bless people with our good looks ;)

Btw Kyungie, vivi’s sugardaddy and I will be at your house at noon so please have food for us thx

💕vivi’s dad💕

Such disrespect

But I shall forgive you for the low price of two (2) bubble teas

One choco and one taro for me and luhan

😎MANhan⚽

<3

HIS HIGHNESS ✨👑🙇

*throws up on vivi*

💕vivi’s dad💕

hEY >:(

Don’t bring vivi into this he is an innocent soul

HIS HIGHNESS ✨👑🙇

An innocent soul who decided to shred my English assignment to pieces aklfjlksjflkejwkrjek

 Jongin 🧸🐶

i like chicken but soo and i can’t make it to the dinner :(

and dogs are always innocent

Kim Junmyeon

Neither can I, gala starts at 4 and I have to survive off of cocktail shrimp and croutons for dinner :( I’ll see you guys later in the night though?

Which reminds me Kyungsoo

Did Yifan give you the package?

Kyungsoo

Morning everyone

And yes he did, thank you Junmyeon :)

Sebaek miso salmon’s in the oven

HIS HIGHNESS ✨👑🙇

h3ll y3s l8tr 3s

Kim Junmyeon

??

😎MANhan⚽

The miso salmon brings all the boys to the yard

;)

 Jongin 🧸🐶

i mean chicken does too

and soo

HIS HIGHNESS ✨👑🙇

*throws up on Monggu*

Say that again and I’ll get Jjangah and Jjanggu too

❅❆❅

“Baekhyun, no,” Kyungsoo warned, shrinking into his chair as Baekhyun brought various pointy objects all too close to his face. Call it his primal flight or fight instinct that he had learned from the penguin documentary he had gotten hooked on, but Kyungsoo’s mental calculator had deduced that Baekhyun + Sharp Things + Kyungsoo’s Face = Disaster of Cataclysmic Proportions.

Baekhyun simply uncapped his eyeliner, then laid out his array of supplies all over Kyungsoo’s desk— his school supplies and the calculus problem set that he had been working on shoved to the floor to make space for what Baekhyun deemed to be the ‘infinitely more important items.’ He and Sehun had gobbled down a few servings of salmon after arriving at Kyungsoo’s house at around noon, and afterwards, they may or may not have watched a few episodes of that guilty pleasure drama that Sehun had sacrificed his laptop’s virus ity for. They had since dressed up into their outfits for the night, and were now splayed out all across Kyungsoo’s bedroom as usual, the space that Baekhyun had commandeered into his personal beauty salon.

“Baekhyun, yes,” he said, punctuating his speech with terrifying snaps of the hair straightener which Kyungsoo privately thought looked nothing short of a cauterizing death machine. “Come on Kyungsoo, ever since I saw that gorgeous suit I’ve had this look planned out in my head! And the birthday voucher was for a full makeover, and makeup is definitely part of the deal.”

What Baekhyun was right about was that Zitao’s design was indeed breathtaking, a thought that had been running through Kyungsoo’s mind since he had picked up the suit from a begrudging Yifan after school a few days prior. (“Don’t feel like you have to wear his design,” Yifan had said, “A suit by literally any other designer might fit you better.”)

It was a rich midnight blue, almost black in the dark but shimmering blue in the light, with wide lapels and two buttons that pulled the heavy fabric in at his waist. Along with it was a crisp off-white dress shirt, erring towards grey, and a deep blue tie with tiny embroidered stars stitched all over with silver thread. And despite what Yifan had said, it fit perfectly, and had Kyungsoo breaking out into a grin when peeking at himself in a mirror for the first time. Sehun’s reaction was much more unrestrained, snapping numerous pictures for god-knows-what and marveling over the texture of the fabric between his fingers. Meanwhile, Baekhyun had retreated into his head, already planning for Kyungsoo to wear—

“Blue eyeshadow,” Baekhyun declared, and Sehun furiously nodded his head in agreement from where he was bent over the bathroom sink, probably counting the number of strands of hair on his head or partaking in some other vaguely pointless activity in that vein. Kyungsoo had coiffed his hair up with minimal amounts of gel, exposing his forehead and subjecting his face to Baekhyun’s every whim. When was the last time that he had dressed up as nicely as this? Probably never, if you were to exclude the number of times that he had donned the traditional hanbok to attend his distant relatives’ weddings. Kyungsoo was definitely pushing himself out of his comfort zone tonight— hell, he’d never even tasted a crouton before, and that appeared to be one of his only forms of sustenance for the entire evening— and he thought that maybe a little bit of makeup couldn’t hurt, after all.

There was also a part of him that was nervous about letting Jongin down, not wanting to appear looking like Shrek beside his boyfriend. Kyungsoo knew that he wasn’t ugly, by any means, without makeup, but he did want to make an effort to look his best. He wanted Jongin to be proud to have Kyungsoo next to him, and it wasn’t just that— he also wanted to dress up for himself, to feel truly handsome for a night, to have his internal happiness and glow be projected both inside and out. But ultimately, maybe it was because he was a little drunk off of the strawberry banana smoothie that the three had shared during lunch when he merely nodded towards Baekhyun, assenting to the proffered beauty products with a smile on his face.

“Oh my GOD,” Baekhyun squealed, hands immediately flying to open his giant eyeshadow palette. “Close your eyes, Kyungie. You won’t regret this, I promise.”

When his eyes flew open a few minutes later, Kyungsoo looked into the mirror and was pleased to see that he still looked like himself, just with darkly defined eyes, accented with shades of grey and blue. He thanked Baekhyun by pulling him into a hug, who had just patted Kyungsoo’s backside before moving to do his own makeup.

A glance at the clock told him that it was approaching 3:30, which was when Jongin had agreed to pick him up at his apartment. Just as Kyungsoo was standing in the entryway of his home, carefully tying on his shiny black dress shoes, he felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder.

Sehun spun him around, his expression resolute. “Good luck, Kyungie. Don’t let what those crouton-eating creatures say get to you, okay?”

“Try to stick to the rich brats that we’re actually friends with,” Baekhyun joked, before adding more seriously, “and call us right away if something goes wrong. Nothing at a school dance is more important than you… not even Chanyeol, and especially not the ty music.” He tucked a mechanical pencil into Kyungsoo’s pocket as a good luck charm/lethal weapon, “in case someone pulls some funny business.” Kyungsoo privately promised himself not to interrupt his friends for something that wasn’t all too serious, but all the same, he briefly linked their hands together in gratitude.

Just then, his phone pinged with a text message from Jongin announcing his imminent arrival, and Kyungsoo stuffed his phone and his house keys into his pocket before stepping out of the front door. 

He waved goodbye to Sehun and Baekhyun, rolling his eyes when they pretended to dramatically wipe their tears away because our son is all grown up . “I thought I was your mom,” Kyungsoo grumbled quietly. A quick elevator ride brought him down to the lobby of his apartment building, where Jongin’s Tesla Roadster sat out front.

Jongin stepped out of his vehicle, rubbing his hands together in the cold with a grin on his face, and Kyungsoo couldn’t help but give him an appreciative once over. He was dressed in a double ed iron blue suit, a few shades lighter than Kyungsoo’s own, with a blue-and-white striped dress shirt, a Gucci monogrammed tie, and a black, studded choker wrapped around the deliciously bronze skin of his neck.

“What’s with the choker?” Kyungsoo inquired, once the pair had settled into the mercifully heated seats of the car.

Jongin tossed his head back in laughter. “I was dumb enough to bet against Luhan, and here I am. I’ll take it off for the event though, can’t imagine what the business partners would think of this.”

“It looks good on you,” Kyungsoo said, almost as if he was revealing a secret, and Jongin ducked his head in pleasure.

The trip to Seoul’s Chosun Hotel was full of mindless banter, of jokes and compliments that fell all too easily off of their tongues. When Jongin was suddenly stopping the car, unclasping the choker around his neck, Kyungsoo suddenly felt all of his anxiousness hit him like a ton of bricks, along with the sudden realization that he would soon be meeting Jongin’s parents, amongst other people that belonged to this mysterious world of opulence.

“Hey,” Jongin said, leaning over the centre console. He reached out to clasp Kyungsoo’s hand with his own, and leaned in to whisper, “you don’t have to do this. I can drive you back home if you want.”

Kyungsoo straightened from where he was slouched in his seat, leaning into Jongin and inhaling the earthy scent of his perfume. “No, I want to. For you, and for me, too.”

Jongin palm cupped Kyungsoo’s round cheek, tilting his face until their eyes met, drawing close enough for his rapid breaths to fan over Kyungsoo’s face.

“Can I?” Jongin breathed, and Kyungsoo responded by pressing closer until their lips met in a gentle kiss. Kyungsoo instinctively clutched at the peaked lapels of Jongin’s suit jacket, feeling the rapid thudding of his heartbeat beneath the sturdy fabric that matched the fervor of his own.

While Kyungsoo had never experienced what it was like to kiss someone before, he thought that he could finally understand what those young adult novels had been going on about. Maybe there wasn’t fireworks or an angelic chorus as background music, but the feeling of Jongin’s plush lips against his filled Kyungsoo with a pleasant sensation, full of such warmth and excitement and comfort that he thought that he never wanted it to end.

When Jongin eventually pulled away, he seemed dazed, his eyes unfocused and lips colored with hints of Kyungsoo’s lip tint. “I… was that okay?”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo smiled, leaning in to peck Jongin on the cheek. “Couldn’t have been better.”

A polite knock on the window caused the pair to jump in their seat, only to see a curious valet peering in from the driver’s side window. Jongin let out an airy laugh, squeezing Kyungsoo’s hand one last time before stepping out of the vehicle and rounding the car to the passenger side.

Kyungsoo avoided eye contact with the valet, rather mortified by their audience, and Jongin too practically tossed the car’s key fob at the poor man before making his escape, Kyungsoo in tow.

They stood in the crisp winter air, just about to enter the hotel lobby, when Kyungsoo paused mid step to face Jongin and smooth out the lapels that he had crumpled in his hold. “I’m nervous,” he admitted.

“There’s no need to be. I’ll stick to you as much as possible, and Junmyeon and Yifan should be around, too. If anything, I’m the one who should be worried about the attention you’ll attract with how handsome you’re looking right now.”

“Says Mr. Kim Jongin,” Kyungsoo said, rolling his eyes, but his heart felt considerably lighter as he and Jongin made their way to the ballroom.

The air seemed to glitter off of the iridescent crystal chandeliers, and with every step, Kyungsoo felt his feet sink into the plush carpet beneath his feet. A string quartet filled the room with the swell of classical music, and the area was filled with hundreds of others, conversing over glasses of champagne and cocktail shrimp. Eyes darting rapidly from left to right in hopes of taking it all in, he noticed that many other guests were dressed in extravagant dresses and perfectly tailored suits, often accessorized with what looked like twenty pounds of glittering jewelry. Frankly, it was all quite unsettling, and Kyungsoo forced himself to remain standing at his full height, resisting the urge to curl into Jongin’s side.

Jongin was striding through the expansive room with purpose, and it was all Kyungsoo could do to follow closely behind, his eyes pinned to the flare of Jongin’s suit jacket out from his narrow waist. He suddenly found himself bumping into Jongin’s back, not having noticed when the taller boy had stopped walking, instead politely bowing down to greet a young woman dressed in a blood red ball gown.

“Who’s this?” She asked, her voice tinged with amusement, perfectly manicured nails clutching a tall flute of champagne, her gaze roving up and down Kyungsoo’s body curiously.

Kyungsoo felt Jongin’s hand land on his shoulder, and before he could formulate a reply, Jongin was saying, “this is Do Kyungsoo, he’s one of my classmates.”

Oh, so did Kim Jongin kiss his classmates now? Kyungsoo forced a smile and bowed at the woman, reminding himself that it was rather impractical to have Jongin announce him as his boyfriend in a room full of influential strangers.

“Love the suit, custom AB Couture?”

Kyungsoo hesitantly nodded, remembering the letters AB that had been stitched on the label at the back of his suit. “Thank you, Huang Zitao designed it,” Kyungsoo supplied, choosing his words carefully. The woman nodded in understanding.

“I’m Park Sooyoung,” she said, “Zitao’s a good friend of mine. You’re Junmyeon’s friend, aren’t you? Actually, Zitao should be around here somewhere, he’d love to meet you. He was so worried that the suit wouldn’t fit properly, but look at you!”

Jongin suddenly hooked his arm around the small of Kyungsoo’s waist. Kyungsoo looked up at him in confusion, but Jongin was already saying, “sorry Sooyoung, we’ll catch you around later, okay?” Kyungsoo craned his neck backwards to cast the kind woman an apologetic smile, and she cheerfully waved him away.

It turned out that the man that Jongin was now talking to was a Harvard board member, as Kyungsoo discerned from the little tidbits of conversation that filtered through his brain. Beside them stood his two teenage daughters— “future Harvard students,” as he had introduced them. It was all he could do to suppress his glare when he noticed them eyeing Jongin in obvious interest, and he felt his eye twitch as he strained to keep a pleasant smile on his face. If only they knew, he thought bitterly, only to once again revel in the delight that he was able to call Jongin his.

Jongin seemed oblivious to it all, too absorbed in discussing some business seminar that he was excited about with the middle aged man. It was odd to Kyungsoo how Jongin was suddenly so good at small talk, carrying out dry conversations with virtual strangers with ease, as compared to how relatively shy he acted at school. By now, his feet were aching from standing up for the better part of an hour, and part of him regretted not wearing his pair of worn out sneakers instead of his dress shoes. Though, on second thought, he supposed that Zitao likely wouldn’t be too happy to see his carefully assembled outfit destroyed by Kyungsoo’s dirty Converse, aka Huchu’s favorite chew toy.

He spotted an open table halfway across the room, and internally debated on whether or not to interrupt Jongin’s conversation to let him know of his departure. Ultimately, he decided on texting Jongin of his whereabouts, and Jongin scarcely noticed when Kyungsoo slipped away into the crowd.

Tired and bored, Kyungsoo melted into his seat, a cocktail shrimp in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He had just texted Jongin and was considering messaging Junmyeon, too, when a man slid into the seat beside him.

“Kyungsoo?” He asked. The man was tall, dressed in a detailed black and gold suit, numerous golden studs glinting from his ears. His eyes were intriguingly catlike, with a hidden warmth behind them that had Kyungsoo hesitantly nodding in return. “I’m Zitao.”

“I talked to Sooyoung earlier. Thank you so much for the suit, I really appreciate it.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Zitao said, raking his eyes down Kyungsoo’s figure. “It looks amazing on you, I didn’t think that Junmyeon would get the measurements right.”

“I owe it all to you two,” Kyungsoo grinned.

“Your makeup really ties it all together though,” Zitao complimented, leaning closer to examine Kyungsoo’s face. “The glitter is a really nice touch, brings out the silver in your tie and complements the hints of ivory cream in your dress shirt.”

“I’m not even going to pretend that I understood that,” Kyungsoo deadpanned, “but I’ll pass your compliments on to my best friend.”

“Ah, have him contact me sometime? I could use another makeup artist.”

Kyungsoo tucked Zitao’s business card in his pocket, the thick glossy cardstock decorated with “AB Couture” in gold cursive print, already excited to pass it on to Baekhyun.

“Now,” Zitao mumbled around a mouthful of croutons, “do you have any embarrassing stories to tell me about Yifan or Junmyeon? Yifan and Junmyeon, preferably, if you know what I mean.”

He waggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively, and Kyungsoo let out a gasp of choked laughter. He parted his lips, debating on telling Zitao about the easter-bunny-Yifan incident, or maybe regaling him with the difficulties of getting Junmyeon to even admit to their relationship being anything more than student council co-presidents.

And then there was the familiar hand on his shoulder again, but this time more insistent than comforting. “Kyungsoo,” Jongin said, his gaze hardened, “where did you go?”

“I texted you.”

“Hi Jongin,” Zitao piped in, and Jongin simply ignored him, dragging Kyungsoo out of his seat. 

“You can’t just disappear on me like that,” Jongin grumbled. “My parents want to meet you, so come.”

Kyungsoo felt a little like a scolded puppy as he trailed after Jongin, still not quite understanding what had gone wrong.

Jongin reached out to steady Kyungsoo with a hand, and he stood facing an older couple who screamed elegance and status and money. So these are Jongin’s parents, Kyungsoo thought, and he could see where Jongin’s strong jaw and height had come from.

“This is Do Kyungsoo, my classmate,” Jongin introduced, and Kyungsoo quickly fell into a bow before straightening up and flashing his best smile. These were Jongin’s parents, after all. Potential future parents-in-law? A tiny voice inside of his head whispered, which Kyungsoo chose to ignore.

“So Kyungsoo, what do your parents do?”

“My father is an accountant and my mother owns a café, sir,” Kyungsoo said, working to be as pleasant and polite as possible.

“Ah, my wife runs a café, too. With two hundred locations all over the country, that is.” Jongin’s father laughed at his own joke, and Kyungsoo plastered on a tiny smile.

“You’re about to graduate like Jongin, aren’t you? Where are you planning on going to university next year?”

“I haven’t decided yet, sir, but I’ll likely be going to university in the US to study computer science.”

Kyungsoo startled when Jongin’s dad slapped his son’s back, the loud smack seeming to reverberate in the room. “I’m sure you know, but Jongin here’s going to Harvard next year!” He gleefully announced, and what . No, he hadn’t known. He looked accusingly towards Jongin, who guiltily avoided eye contact. 

“You must be very proud of him, sir. Congratulations.”

“Did you apply to Harvard, too?”

“I did, sir,” Kyungsoo said lightly. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t offered admission there.”

Jongin’s father clucked his tongue, regarding Kyungsoo with pity. “They only take the top five percent of students worldwide, so clearly not everyone can make it to the best university in the world. You need to be ranked top five at your high school at least, not to mention internships and other activities.”

Best university according to who? And maybe your son ranked fifth place, but guess who ranked first and still didn’t get admitted to your precious university? Kyungsoo wanted to fire back, but he instead schooled his face into what he hoped was a pleasant expression.

“Don’t be upset,” Mr. Kim placated, “even though Harvard’s education and opportunities are world class, a diploma is a diploma, though prestige is a huge benefit when searching for a job. Though I’m sure Jongin would be willing to bring you on a tour of Harvard’s campus sometime, so you won’t have to queue in line with the tourists. Right, Jongin?”

Kyungsoo challengingly met Jongin’s eyes, as if daring him to agree with his father’s conclusion that he was some sort of charity case, that he was somehow inferior for being a part of the 95% of applicants who had received a Harvard rejection letter. 

“I’d be happy to,” Jongin stuttered out, breaking eye contact, and with it, the part of Kyungsoo’s heart that had become his.

“It was great to meet you both,” Kyungsoo heard himself saying, sinking into a bow before beelining towards the restroom. “I have some business to take care of, but I hope to see you again soon.” And even though he knew that Jongin wasn’t Jongin here— he was businessman Jongin, daddy’s boy Jongin, Harvard student Jongin, who had an image to uphold that was far more important than their seemingly insignificant relationship— it was hard to swallow the fact that he and his feelings seemed to sit at the bottom of his list of priorities. Kyungsoo was no more important than a classmate to him, and he knew that it had been foolish to fall so fast so quickly. The difference now was that he was forced to face the reality that Jongin wouldn’t be there to catch him.

He reached into his pocket for his phone, and didn’t hesitate before locating a contact and tapping “call.”

“Kyungsoo?” He could hear the string quartet cheerily playing on in the background, the upbeat cadence not at all matching the somber mood of Kyungsoo’s obnoxiously spacious bathroom stall. Hell, the bathroom speakers even played their own merry tune, and Kyungsoo wanted nothing more than to drown it all out.

“Junmyeon, sorry, are you busy?”

“No, no,” he said, but Kyungsoo could hear the hubbub of dialogue growing more distant as Junmyeon’s Italian dress shoes carried him away from the crux of conversation. “Where are you?”

Kyungsoo bit his lip. “First floor bathroom, second stall.”

He heard Junmyeon mumble something and Yifan’s hushed reply echo through the line, before the bathroom door was bursting open.

At his first glance at Kyungsoo huddled on the closed toilet seat, Junmyeon’s worried frown only grew deeper. “It was Jongin, wasn’t it?”

Kyungsoo’s dismal expression was all the answer he needed. Junmyeon wrapped an arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulders, and Kyungsoo leaned into his warmth. “I’m sorry, I know you have places to be that aren’t a bathroom stall.”

“Friends always come first,” Junmyeon said quietly. “Yifan can exercise his small talk skills in my place.”

Kyungsoo let out a dry laugh that felt as if it was forcefully ripped out of his chest. “I think that Jongin chose small talk over me.”

Junmyeon’s hold tightened at that. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” Kyungsoo said, apologetic, and Junmyeon only shook his head in understanding. “Honestly, I just want to get out of here.”

Junmyeon peeked at his Rolex watch hidden under the sleeve of his white suit jacket. “Actually, Yifan and I were about to leave for formal, and you’re welcome to come along if you’d like to.”

The two boys wordlessly traced their steps back to the hotel lobby, Yifan tagging along somewhere along the way with an awkwardly commiserating smile. As they weaved their way back through the crowd, Kyungsoo found himself unconsciously keeping an eye out for Jongin’s perfectly tousled hair and navy blue suit, before quickly reprimanding himself that Jongin was probably occupied anyways. With a different businessman, maybe a businessman’s son, someone whose parents owned a large conglomerate. Maybe he wouldn’t notice that Kyungsoo had left at all.

Unexpectedly, that assumption was dispelled when an anxious looking Jongin came into view, bathed in the glittering yellow glow of the hotel lobby and tugging at the sleeves of his dress shirt as he paced around the fountain in the center of the room. His eyes lit up when he recognized Kyungsoo heading towards him, but Kyungsoo was overwhelmed by a feeling of unease when he couldn’t quite decipher the conflicting emotions storming within them.

Junmyeon and Yifan exchanged a glance. “We’ll go get the car,” Junmyeon offered, squeezing Kyungsoo’s shoulder in silent support, and then the echo of the pair’s expensive footwear against the polished marble tile faded into the distance. 

Kyungsoo willed himself to meet Jongin’s eyes, and the taller boy wordlessly reached forward to circle Kyungsoo’s wrist, tugging him towards an abandoned conference room and shutting the door behind them. Usually Kyungsoo would object to being treated like a rag doll, but in this case, he knew that they needed to talk— preferably not somewhere they could be interrupted or eavesdropped on.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Jongin turned to face Kyungsoo, his lips pressed into a line and the grip on his wrist only tightening. “Where are you going? Are you disappearing on me again ?”

Kyungsoo felt his defenses rise at the accusation. “To formal,” he said simply, yanking free of Jongin’s hold.

Jongin’s eyes darkened. “With Junmyeon? The last time I checked, you were my formal date.”

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo scoffed, “with Junmyeon and his date , Yifan. And why does it matter? The last time I checked, I was just your classmate.”

The wild look in Jongin’s eyes softened, and his tone was markedly gentler when he said, “I was just trying to protect you, Kyungsoo.”

“From who? The only person that I needed to be protected from was your own father, and I can’t recall you doing anything about that situation.”

“I mean from strangers who might try to talk to you,” Jongin amended.

“Are you talking about Zitao?” Kyungsoo asked, incredulous. “Is that what this is about?”

“What was I supposed to think? You left me with those annoyingly flirtatious girls and I found you with someone else.”

“I came here with you , Jongin. Not with Zitao or Junmyeon. I thought it was clear that like you, and I wish you’d have more faith in me.”

Jongin grew silent at that, and this time when he reached out for Kyungsoo’s hand, Kyungsoo let him press their palms together. The taller boy looked up from where their fingers were laced with each other, drawing in deep, calming breaths before speaking.

“I’m sorry about my parents,” he finally said, “and… for not telling you about university. I just, when you told me that you didn’t get in I thought that it was so unfair that you worked so hard only for a legacy kid like me to get in in the end. Both my parents went there, and with the lawsuit going on, I know that I didn’t get in just based on my test grades. A part of me thought that it should have been Junmyeon or you instead. I really care about you, Kyungsoo, I didn’t want to make you feel bad about yourself over something out of your control.”

“You can say the word Harvard, Jongin,” Kyungsoo said, amusement creeping back into his voice. “You’re not going to hurt me. And congratulations on getting in. I mean it. Don’t think so lowly of yourself, okay? Plus,” he continued, more hesitantly, “it would be hypocritical of me to judge you for not telling me when I haven’t exactly been the most transparent about my college plans myself.”

Jongin only squeezed Kyungsoo’s hand, his warm brown eyes turned up at him expectantly.

“I got in to MIT.”

“What,” Jongin breathed, surprise and delight written all over his face. “Oh my god, that’s one of the best engineering schools in the world! Why didn’t you just tell my parents that? They would have been all over you!” He took in Kyungsoo’s rapidly souring expression and felt his own face twist in confusion and hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Kyungsoo regarded him with one long, contemplative look, filled with mingling disappointment and uncertainty, before the windows to his heart shuttered resolutely closed with a clang that rang out inside his head.

“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. Do I need to go to a prestigious university to be worthy of standing by your side? Would you pity me or think less of me if I didn’t happen to win the college admissions lottery?”

“I, no,” Jongin said clumsily, stumbling over his words in his haste to relay his thoughts. “It’s not me, just, my parents…”

“It’s your world,” Kyungsoo said plainly, clenching his fists as he felt his whole body go numb. “Was I wrong for deluding myself to think that I could belong in it, for thinking that this high school relationship would last?” Jongin’s lips parted, but before he could formulate a response, Kyungsoo pushed on. “We’re graduating soon. Two weeks from now we can say our goodbyes and part ways for the rest of our lives. Maybe I’ll see you again at our ten year reunion, when you have a Gucci model spouse who you met at Harvard hanging off of your arm and live in a penthouse in Gangnam across the street from your parent’s house. You’ll work nine-to-five as the CEO of a branch of your father’s company and come home to your two-point-five kids, and,” he bit out, “you’ll have forgotten about me altogether. Is it better for us to just end this now?”

Jongin’s eyes were wide, and he frantically reached out to pull Kyungsoo flush against his chest. “No, no, Kyungsoo,” he mumbled, “ten years on, I still want to be with you.”

Kyungsoo pressed his hands against Jongin’s chest, fighting the lulling comfort of their close proximity, the urge to curl against Jongin and let his worries dissipate in his embrace. Instead, he steeled his resolve, and let his questions pour out endlessly like a jammed faucet. “Would you still want to be with me if I fail out of college? If I go to events like this dressed in a sport jacket I bargained for at a flea market? If I work at this very hotel to pay off my student loans and your business partners all know that your boyfriend is a minimum wage worker?”

“You won’t,” came Jongin’s answer, and Kyungsoo pushed him away without respite. He rushed away from Jongin, ignoring the increasingly distraught calls of his name and squashing down the hurt that burned in his chest, accompanied by searing regret at the sight of Jongin’s eyes welling with unshed tears.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Kyungsoo whispered, and the silence following the click of the door shutting behind him had never felt so empty.

He let himself lean into Junmyeon’s touch when the other found him listlessly pacing in front of the hotel, and the other boy carefully buckled Kyungsoo into the backseat of the same old silver Honda Civic he had previously seen in the school parking lot before sliding into the passenger seat himself. The seat beside Kyungsoo was occupied by three basketballs, a towering stack of textbooks, and a countless number of old takeout containers. When Kyungsoo looked up questioningly, he met Yifan’s gaze through the rearview mirror.

“Sorry about the car, my parents made me pay for it myself and this was all I could afford,” he said, smiling.

“I like it,” Kyungsoo said, sinking deeper into the grey upholstery. And he meant it. He would rather be here, his exposed ankle touching what looked to be a greasy discarded McDonald’s take out bag, than in Jongin’s familiar luxurious Roadster.

The ride was, rather ironically, calming, Yifan taking care to switch from his “sad jamz” playlist to “bopz” in accordance to Kyungsoo’s mood. This meant that Kyungsoo’s ears were graced with twenty minutes of Yifan and Junmyeon scream-singing the lyrics to various Red Velvet songs, their voices breaking into terrible falsetto all too often. The fifth time that they launched into chanting “LOOKIE LOOKIE MY SUPER LOOKIE LOOKIE,” and when Yifan attempted to hit Wendy’s high note in Happiness (“replay that part Junmyeon, I promise I can hit the note this time—”) Kyungsoo cracked a real smile. He loved his friends, he thought, not so much for their singing skills, but for their ability of somehow always being able to cheer him up, even during the worst of times.

When Yifan crookedly parked his car in a lot a few blocks away from the school dance venue, Kyungsoo had made up his mind to try to enjoy the rest of the night. While sticking to his personal principles, of course, as always— no drinking, no drugs, no meaningless intimacy. He remembered the plotlines of Baekhyun and Sehun’s favorite dramas and how the main characters seemed to always fall apart after getting into an argument, getting plastered and acting completely irrationally, only to stupidly fall back into their ex-lover’s arms. Kyungsoo was determined not to let that happen to himself, not without reconciling their differences.

The dance was just getting started when they arrived, and Junmyeon and Yifan skipped off to make last minute adjustments to the decor. Kyungsoo was left awkwardly standing on his tiptoes in an attempt to spot his friends in the long line of students snaking around the building, waiting to be let in the venue.

“Kyungsoo!” Luhan called out obnoxiously loudly, and Kyungsoo saw him dressed in a pinstripe suit standing next to Sehun, Baekhyun, and Chanyeol near the entrance of the building. Kyungsoo made his way over to his group of friends, but he wasn’t given a chance to contemplate the ethics of cutting the line before he was being pulled into a messy embrace.

“Junmyeon told us what happened,” Sehun muttered, his chin hooked over Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “Wait until I get my hands on Kim Jongin.”

“His is flat anyways,” Chanyeol helpfully supplied, yelping when Baekhyun pinched his side.

When they finally arrived at the front of the line, Minseok, the student council treasurer, checked his list off of the list of attending students, flashing him a small smile from behind the counter.

“Nice flower,” Baekhyun commented, motioning towards the pretty rose tucked inside of his suit’s pocket. In doing so, he leaned a little too closely towards poor Minseok, who held his ground with a polite thank you . “So tell me, did Jo-”

“Don’t pry,” Sehun lightly scolded, slapping a hand over Baekhyun’s mouth, but Kyungsoo knew that he probably only said that because he already knew all that there was to know. The noodle boy and social media were truly quite the power couple. Baekhyun Sehun’s palm in retaliation, and Minseok only looked a little disgruntled when he waved the group past the blue velvet stanchion.

The venue was dressed up for the theme of winter wonderland, and the room was bathed in blue light, fairy lights twinkling from where they were strung up on the walls and snowflake confetti scattered over ivory linen tablecloths. There was even a giant blow up snowman in the corner, which his friends had immediately been attracted towards, Chanyeol getting into a boxing match with the innocent creature. Jumyeon really had outdone himself.

Of course, there was the music, some nondescript pop song whose sheer volume had already begun to assault his ear drums, and a pitcher full of some shady looking beverage that Kyungsoo would do anything to keep far away from his mouth.

He had never been one for dancing, and parked himself at a table while his friends went off to the dance floor, content to nibble on a wholesale chocolate chip cookie while trying not to let himself think too hard about Jongin, Jongin, Jongin.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor caused Kyungsoo to look up, grinning at Yixing, who was dressed smartly in a classic tuxedo, a few of the buttons on his dress shirt accidentally mismatched and exposing flashes of the skin on his chest. 

“Hey Kyungsoo! Looking good as always,” Yixing greeted cheerfully, munching on a handful of cheese crackers he held in his cupped palm.

“Thanks, Yixing. Did… you want some help with your shirt?”

“What?” He mumbled through a stolen mouthful of Kyungsoo’s cookie, looking down at his chest. “Oh. Thanks for telling me, I got ready in a rush because I lost track of time in the studio,” he said sheepishly.

“What are you doing here, though? I would’ve thought that you’d be on the dance floor.”

Yixing looked up from his now mercifully matched shirt buttons, puffing his cheeks out. “Can’t do that without my dance partner. Where’s your boyfriend? I thought that he’d be clinging to you like a cute little guard puppy.”

“Oh, uh,” Kyungsoo fumbled, ducking his head. “We… I don’t know.” Yixing ceased his chewing then, looking equal parts concerned and upset.

“He really likes you, you know?”

“I know,” he sighed. And he did. He never doubted Jongin’s sincerity, but— “I just don’t know if it’s enough.”

The rest of the night flew by in flashes of neon strobe lights and the constant shutter of the photobooth, acquaintances coming up to compliment his outfit to which he could only respond with a quirk of his lips. At one point when one of Chen’s more upbeat songs played, Jongdae convinced him to join him in a duet, but Kyungsoo quickly retreated back to his seat when Minseok took his place by Jongdae’s side. Baekhyun pulled Kyungsoo out of his misery bubble to join a few (read: at least a hundred) group pictures because “this photo is going on my Instagram, at least try not to look like sweaty zombies.” The entire time, a part of Kyungsoo was still hoping for Jongin to appear, but the other boy had either decided not to come at all or was doing a very good job at avoiding him. Kyungsoo didn’t know which conclusion was worse.

Before he knew it, a slow ballad was playing through the speakers, and Kyungsoo averted his gaze from the dance floor because a) he did not want to see his friends feeling each other up and b) maybe he wanted that for himself, too. He remembered the conversation that he had once had with Jongin about drowning himself in the bowl of spiked fruit punch during the slow dance, and smiled a little despite himself— the tiny, sad kind of smile of reminiscence. Who knew that the night of formal would have him end up here, a half eaten chocolate chip cookie in his hand, his relationship teetering in the balance? No matter his sadness, Kyungsoo knew that alcohol poisoning was not the answer, and opted to chug the remnants of his cup of soda instead.

Then Junmyeon was standing on the tiny makeshift stage, announcing the imminent end of the event (and the beginning of the arduous process of cleaning up gallons of spilled jungle juice). His friends had returned from the dance floor and had collapsed into a sweaty pile of dumb on the table next to his, and Kyungsoo decided to try to make himself useful in helping to clear up the mess that was left behind.

“What time is it?”

“11:30,” Luhan grunted out, inadvertently sending Junmyeon into a tizzy because ‘oh my god we have thirty minutes to clean up before the venue owner kills me HELP.”

“The subway closes at midnight, think we can make it by then?”

“I don’t think that I can even get up right now.”

Yifan stopped by their area with a giant black garbage bag in tow, wrinkling his nose when he gingerly picked an empty bag of chips up off of the table. “I’ll give you a ride,” he said, “if you guys get off your asses and help clean up. I think Jongdae has some space in his car too if you wanna go ask him.”

“Thanks Yifan!” Luhan chirped, suddenly revitalized as he began to tap away on his phone. Chanyeol wholeheartedly began to conduct an experiment on “how many dirty cups can I carry at once,” and maxed out at 23 before Baekhyun reminded him that soda stains would probably be ingrained forever in the fabric of his white suit.

Baekhyun and Sehun piled into the back of Yifan’s Honda, headed towards Kyungsoo’s house where the three had planned to have a sleepover. This time the addition of Baekhyun and Sehun’s voices only fueled Yifan and Junmyeon’s fervor in out-singing each other, and Kyungsoo unexpectedly found himself singing along, letting the stress release from his body as the notes floated from his parted lips. After bidding goodbye to the co-presidents, Kyungsoo tiptoed through his sleepy house, collapsing onto the layers of fluffy bedding arranged as a makeshift mattress on the floor of his bedroom.

One episode of Running Man later, Sehun was passed out, and Baekhyun’s ceaseless commentary on Kim Jongkook’s “chonky please choke me” physique had finally ended. Kyungsoo had shut the lid of his laptop and was nestling into his pillow when Baekhyun suddenly whispered, “Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo rolled over to face the other boy. “I thought you were sleeping, but I didn’t hear you whimper like usual so I should have known you were still up.”

“Do you want to talk about it now?”

The room was entirely still, save for the quiet rustle of the comforter as Kyungsoo tugged it up to his chin. “I don’t really want to break up with him,” he eventually said.

“Then there’s still a chance of you guys getting back together?”

“Not if nothing changes,” Kyungsoo sighed out.

“You know, some people say that people never change, but I think they do. All the time. Like how Chanyeol’s less of a creep now and how you went to a school dance for the first time. You just have to try to make sure that the change is for the better.”

“I think you’re the wisest out of the three of us,” Kyungsoo teased, pressing closer to Baekhyun’s side. Then, more solemnly, “I just don’t want him to become serious businessman Jongin, because will he still care about me then?”

“Give him a chance,” Baekhyun mumbled, and then his eyelids were fluttering closed. 

I hope that some things will always stay the same, was Kyungsoo’s last thought, finally giving in to the rolling waves of sleep that offered solace after such a long, turbulent day.

❅❆❅

The first thing that Kyungsoo became aware of the following Monday morning was the annoyingly insistent knocking on his bedroom door. He reluctantly cracked one eye open, peeking at the light that filtered in through his shuttered blinds. A glance at his alarm clock told him that it was barely six in the morning, almost an hour before he usually woke up for school, and Kyungsoo did not function well under the effects of sleep deprivation. Whoever was behind that door was probably going to regret it, but Kyungsoo was confused as to who it could be. Sehun? Baekhyun? His mom usually left earlier in the morning to open up the café, and his dad was abroad on a business trip.

Blindly groping at his nightstand, he sleepily rubbed at his eyes before putting his glasses on. Without even glancing at himself in the mirror— more to spare himself the sight of his unsightly bedhead than anything— he pulled his bedroom door open, reproval on the tip of his tongue.

“Hi, Kyungsoo.”

It was Jongin, all nervous and soft in his school uniform and the little bear hat that Kyungsoo liked so much, his messy hair such a contrast from the perfect updo it had been put in at the last time they had seen each other. Kyungsoo rubbed at his eyes again, unconvinced that it wasn’t his bleariness that was making him see things. Nope, Jongin was still there, looking more and more anxious with each passing second. With a start, he suddenly realized that he was dressed in an old too-tight t-shirt from a camp a few summers ago, and a pair of ratty blue pororo print pants. Wonderful.

“How, what?”

“Your mom let me in,” Jongin said, toying with the buttons of his blazer. “Sorry if I woke you up, it’s just, I spent the last couple days thinking about what I wanted to say to you and I didn’t want to make you wait any longer.” He chanced a glance at Kyungsoo, gauging his reaction, and upon registering nothing but surprise and lingering traces of sleep, let out a breath of relief and continued.

“I told my parents about us,” he blurted out, and Kyungsoo’s eyes rounded in shock. “That you’re not my classmate, you’re my very smart very handsome very cute and hard working boyfriend who always helps me with my math assignments and puts up with my whining. But not that you’re going to MIT— I thought that you could tell them that yourself, if you want to, that is.”

“They were... okay with it?”

Jongin shook his head, his bangs flopping into his eyes. “Even if they weren’t okay with it, that wouldn’t change the fact that I want to be with you. You can wear a garbage bag to our next company gala and work as one of those people who shoves advertisements at you at the subway exits and I think that I’ll only fall more in love with you every day.” He suddenly panicked, seeming to realizing what he had just said. “Wait, I didn’t mean it, well I did, but—”

Kyungsoo couldn’t help but laugh, letting himself lean into Jongin’s warmth. Jongin’s arm tentatively wrapped around his waist, pressing their two chests together.

“Do you still think it’s stupid? Falling in love with your first high school boyfriend? Thinking that you could be together for the next… forever?” Jongin met Kyungsoo’s gaze, his hands betraying his nervousness as he tightly gripped the fabric of Kyungsoo’s tie-dyed shirt.

Kyungsoo brought his hands up to cup Jongin’s cheeks, pulling him down so they were face to face. Jongin’s eyes spoke of his conflicting fear and hopefulness, and Kyungsoo felt his mouth tug into the heart shaped smile that Jongin loved so much. “It’s not stupid, not if I’m spending my forever with you,” he whispered, standing up on his tip toes to press a fleeting kiss to Jongin’s cheek.

“What, that’s all I get?” Jongin pouted, his cheeks pink, and Kyungsoo wanted nothing more than to kiss him properly. But still—

“Let me brush my teeth first, you big baby,” he retorted, grinning when Jongin wrapped his arms around his waist and hooked his chin over his shoulder, practically dragged along on Kyungsoo’s valiant quest to the bathroom.

He looked at himself in the mirror, his mouth full of frothy toothpaste, his hair a fluffy mess, and a sleepy Kim Jongin leaning against his side, laughing as Meokmul begged for his attention.

Maybe they didn’t make a picture perfect painting, and the chaotic mess of his I-just-woke-up state would probably trigger an allergic reaction from Junmyeon’s “aesthetic” instagram account. But during this point in his life, characterized by perpetual changes and the ever-lingering feeling of uncertainty, he hoped that Jongin would remain a constant. Someone whose embrace he could return to after a long day, and whose smile could revitalize him like a sip of hot chocolate on a cold morning.

Because when Jongin leaned down to press a kiss to his temple, Kyungsoo thought that he could definitely get used to this.

❅❆❅

“Congratulations!” Junmyeon screamed into the microphone, his cry drowned out by the collective cheers of the new graduates as they tossed their caps into the air. Kyungsoo watched his cap’s trajectory trace a graceful arc through the blue sky, landing somewhere amongst the crowd standing together— for perhaps that last time in a long while— on the green lawn. He turned his attention towards his family, his mother looking up at him with a tearful grin.

Beside him, Luhan’s eyes looked glassy, too. “I can’t believe that we graduated,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think that I would miss high school so much, but we literally graduated a minute ago and I’m already sad.”

“I’ll miss you all, but we’ll see each other again,” Yifan assured.

Luhan snorted, giving Yifan a pointed look. “Says the person who’s going halfway across the world. You chose to go to UBC over being with us?”

“A little distance isn’t going to destroy any of our relationships. And—” a dopey grin appeared on his face— “it’s only 8,168.63 kilometers between Junmyeon and I.”

“Did you actually calculate the exact distance between SNU and UBC?”

“Well, I won’t know the exact distance until we’re assigned to our dorms.”

“He already planned out six months worth of care packages to send to Junmyeon every week,” Kyungsoo smirked, watching as Yifan struggled to maintain his cool. “It’s okay Yifan, we all know that you’re whipped.”

Junmyeon stepped down from the stage and joined them then, along with Baekhyun, Sehun, Yixing, and Chanyeol, their parents trailing closely behind. No doubt that Kyungsoo’s parents were regaling others with all sorts of his embarrassing stories, but he couldn’t find it within him to care about that now. Jongin threw an arm over Kyungsoo’s shoulder, pulling him into his side.

“Great speech, Junmyeon,” Sehun complimented, the rest of the group humming in agreement. “You really didn’t have to stay up the entire night memorizing it though.”

“Sacrifices must be made to achieve great successes,” Luhan said dramatically, earning a reproachful jab from Kyungsoo.

“Oh my god, Luhan is going to be ten times more annoying when he inevitably gets a British accent. Cambridge is going to change you.” 

“At least some of us will still be here in Korea. Junmyeon’s going to be at Seoul National, I’ll be at Yonsei, Jongdae’s going to Hanyang, and Minseok’s going to Korea,” Baekhyun commented.

Chanyeol cocked his head in confusion. “I thought Jongdae was going to Ewha?”
 

“Ewha is a woman’s university,” Kyungsoo laughed, Chanyeol’s giant elf ears pinking as he craned to duck his head in Baekhyun’s neck. “You should know better than to fall victim to his trollish ways.”

“And then there are these traitors.” Baekhyun motioned towards Kyungsoo, Jongin, Chanyeol, and Sehun, who shared a look of amusement, “heading off to the far away land of McDonald’s.”

“I like McDonald’s,” Yixing said offhandedly, to which Jongin and Chanyeol furiously nodded in consensus. “Especially Oreo McFlurries.”

“I don’t know if they’ll have Oreo McFlurries at Tsinghua,” Jongin said sadly, patting Yixing’s shoulder consolingly.

“You guys better introduce me to all of the cute future billionaires at Harvard and MIT,” Sehun lilted towards Jongin and Kyungsoo. “Boston University is a few minutes drive away, so I wouldn’t mind sitting in on a lecture or two.” Luhan scowled at that, pinching Sehun’s cheek until the noodley boy let out a pained yelp.

Chanyeol’s eyes grew almost frighteningly wide. “At least you three have each other. What am I going to do on the other side of the country myself?”

“You’ll find a way,” Kyungsoo said softly. “The Chanyeol I know doesn’t give up so easily, and the Chanyeol at Berkeley should be no different.” The two shared a smile, Chanyeol trying (and failing) not to sweat under the burn of Jongin’s ever vigilant stare.

“Kyungsoo’s mom says that we can all head over to her café,” Baekhyun piped in, jumping excitedly in his place. “Want to go to the arcade downtown and get some snacks there after? There’s also a terrible action movie showing in the theatre right now, if you guys want to watch that, too.”

Jongin laced his fingers with Kyungsoo’s, smiling down at him with the brightness of a hundred twinkling stars. “I heard that the matcha crêpe cake there is amazing,” he said quietly, as if his words were a poem meant for Kyungsoo alone.

“I’ll invite Jongdae and Minseok too,” Luhan said, skipping off into the distance. The rest of the group picked their graduation caps off of the ground, dusting them off and informing their parents of their plans, exchanging contact information with acquaintances and saying goodbyes. Kyungsoo picked his cap up from where it had landed in a fragrant lavender bush, grinning at the simple “Thank You :)” embossed on it in bold letters. At least it was much easier to understand than Sehun’s “mlyjyj_bckjs” on Sehun’s cap, which he defended as an amalgamation of all of their names into an acronym. Cheesy, but Kyungsoo found it fitting, because his friends were what made his high school experience so worthwhile— and what made it so hard to leave this chapter of his life behind. 

As he linked his arms with Baekhyun and Sehun’s, joining the boisterous group of boys starting on the short walk downtown, he caught Jongin sending him a fleeting, flying kiss, before he turned back to his conversation with Yixing. And maybe high school had ended, but the start of the rest of his life had just begun, and Kyungsoo knew that the friends he had made here would follow him throughout the years— even once his familiar blue school uniform blazer began to collect dust and the sound of the school bell became something of a fond, distant memory.

And then there was sweet, brilliant, Jongin, the millionaire heartthrob with the softest smile and the kindest heart, with the expensive car that didn’t have cup holders and a killer pout that never failed to make Kyungsoo feel as if he was falling all over again. Sure, he wasn’t perfect, but Jongin had turned out to be so, so much more, and Kyungsoo was excited for what was to come— for what they would face together.

Kyungsoo turned around to cast one last glance at his high school, where he had spent the last years laughing, studying, crying, and growing into the person that he was today. The school bell rang once, as if to say goodbye, hello, and see you soon.

And then he stepped forward, surrounded by the support of his closest friends, a love song singing from the depths of his heart.

Sehun suddenly paused mid step, casting the group a conspiratory glance. “Petition for Jongin to pay for our arcade tickets?”

“Not if I get there first,” Jongin laughed, and then they were off, graduation gowns fluttering in the wind, matching smiles on their faces speaking of everlasting, enduring friendship and delight.