The Events Club, which Yuri was a part of, was one of the permanent clubs in school, along with the broadcast club and journalism club. Unlike other clubs, they had no participation requirements and could function with even 2 or 3 members.

It was a fact that the Events Club’s activities were strenuous so not many opted for it, but they did always have a good number of members. Despite the decent numbers, they were almost always short-handed and hence the soccer team, teachers, and other faculty helped with their tasks. Their tasks were quite difficult– they were the ones that planned school events, decorated the school, and were in charge of creating all the promotional content related to school activities and keeping everyone in the loop. They were linked up with the broadcast club and the journalism club because they had to cooperate big time during the time of school events, like the Spring Fest, for instance.

The Journalism club had only one person (Sooyoung) skilled enough to take photos so Yuri recommended Minho to her club advisor and with the Vice Principal’s approval, Minho was now helping out during the fest because the pictures would go in the monthly newsletter, the promotional posters, and the yearly schoolbook. 

So whenever Minho didn’t have soccer practice, he helped Sooyoung out with taking pictures. They had divided territories (clubs) and Minho had easily got done with his share in just a couple of days, well, except for the drama club, which he had left for the last, so he could take his time through his stint there.

He had stepped into the school theater that day, the members were in the midst of rehearsal so he quietly took one of the seats in the furthest corners, slumping in the chair so his presence wouldn’t bother anyone on the stage. 

He was a little surprised at both the story and the acting, which was wavelengths better than last year’s Snow White, which seemed more like a cringe-worthy, failed spoof of the Disney movie, if anything. Considering it was another fairytale, he had expected the same, but things were looking out to be different.

Cinderella, played by Miyoung, had arrived at the ball, wading through the cut-out dancing couples and Minho was curious, waiting to find out who had been cast as the prince, and he sat up, a little blown away when it was Taemin who approached Miyoung and asked for a dance eloquently. 

Music was playing as they danced and Minho could see how both of them couldn’t take it seriously and as the song ended with the clock striking midnight, their faces changed as they returned to their roles.

"Oh, it’s midnight!"

"Yes, it is midnight, my fair lady."

"I must go– "

"So soon? Please do not leave–" 

"I must– please– goodbye!"

Miyoung stepped back before running and the scene ended with Taemin running behind her, "Wait! I do not even know your name! Please, wait!"

“And cut!” The teacher called out, “We need the staircase to practice the next scene. It hardly has dialogue– so skip to the next. Narrator #4, you are on!”

Minho was a little helpless, a little hopeless at how Taemin’s voice, still so gentle, could be this loud, this firm and elegant, how he could seamlessly transition from awkwardly laughing, being himself to the regal, handsome prince. It was mesmerizing and he felt his heart fill up to the brim, barely containing the sentiments Taemin had triggered in him. He was dressed normally, the sets were incomplete… Minho couldn’t even imagine how charming Taemin would be at the actual performance when he’d be dressed the part.

He sighed fondly, enamored, even a tad bit jealous of Miyoung. If only he could dance with Taemin one day.

His daze was broken when the teacher called out for a break and Minho finally left his seat, switching on his camera. He was walking to where the teacher was, but he couldn’t help but catch the loud conversation going on to the side. It was Taemin’s friend, Jinki who was speaking.

“What doesn’t make sense is why did the glass slippers remain when her gown and jewels vanished at midnight? And how come no other girl has the same shoe size as Cinderella?”

“That’s just how magic works!” Jonghyun exclaimed, frustrated.

“He could be right, though.” Taemin was saying, “It’s not the size that mattered but the fact that those shoes were made only for Cinderella so no other girl could wear them.”

“Still doesn’t explain why the shoes didn’t vanish at midnight!”

Minho had accidentally clicked a picture and the flash had diverted their attention on him. He smiled apologetically, “Sorry.” He walked towards them because it was obvious he had overhead, so he owned up, “I couldn’t help overhearing you guys and…” Their conversation had got him thinking and he paused for just a moment, letting go of his hesitation to take part in the discourse, “...the reason they didn’t vanish is probably very simple.”

Jinki raised his brows, “I’m listening.”

“It’s a plothole.” Minho answered with a shrug, laughing when Jonghyun groaned and Jinki smirked, “But,” He continued, switching off his camera, pausing to think further, “But does it even matter why they didn’t vanish? It would have been such a tragedy if something like that hadn’t happened.” He grew a little embarrassed as he spoke the rest, his eyes on Taemin, “The hope that something impossible and unexplainable could happen and change all odds, is what makes the story what it is. A hopeful love story.”

“Another romanticist.” Jinki sighed, “Aren’t there any realists around here anymore?”

“You are not a realist, idiot. You are a cynic.” Jonghyun hit Jinki with the rolled-up script. “Minho is a realist.”

“Ouch.” Jinki grumbled, “Whatever.”

Minho laughed, about to say something more but Joon’s call interrupted him from continuing the conversation.

“Hey, Minho! The teacher’s calling you!”

Minho waved and excused himself, heading towards the teacher, growing slightly regretful at blurting out such obvious words. He turned back, eyes finding Taemin, and he was struck, finding him so obviously bashful as Jinki ruffled his hair. Taemin was trying to suppress it under his irritation as he patted his hair and Minho, who hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away, crashed into Joon and barely steadied himself, looking back to where Taemin sat, now laughing at something Jinki was showing him on the phone.

“Minho,” Joon asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Minho turned back to him, managing a smile, hoping it hid how his heart, though overflowing, had also sunk the slightest, on having caught what he just did. “I’m perfectly fine.”

It was unusual because music was softly playing in Minho’s room. He had been playing only one song on repeat, despite the fifty-something old love songs his brother had fed into a Pendrive for him. He opened the little scrapbook he was maintaining. He barely had any pictures in it, just the one with the stars, another he had taken of the school building from the soccer field, that had captured the window Taemin usually sat next to. The seat was empty in the picture, but Taemin didn’t have to be in it for Minho to relate the picture to him. The next page had a picture of the piano in the music room… and again the seat was empty. Then was the picture of his brother’s new stereo that was flashing the name of the song he was listening to. The last picture was of their joined desks in detention, Taemin’s textbook still in the middle, which he had forgotten to take with him.

He had printed out another picture to join the collection, the one he had accidentally taken while distracted by the conversation about the glass slippers. It was just a shaky picture of the empty stage. He stared at it, his heart twisting just the slightest when he remembered Taemin’s smile, his flusteredness around Jinki… but he brushed it off. Maybe he had seen wrongly, maybe he was overthinking. 

He was reminded of the words he himself had spoken… and it would be such a tragedy if he let such ambiguous, unconfirmed notions deter his feelings. 

The hope that something impossible and unexplainable could happen and change all odds, is what makes the story what it is. A hopeful love story.

He pasted the picture and captioned it, which now would remind him to only think of Taemin’s performance. The moments of how he was mesmerized by his expressions, by his voice, by his words. He sighed, smiling to himself… that little dip he had been feeling all day, finally gone.

With only a week left until the fest, soccer practice was suspended so the team could help out around the school. Half of the team was helping the clubs while the other half was helping clean the school. Minho had volunteered for the drama club and hence, here he was with Jongin, painting the stage backgrounds and props. 

Taemin was doing the same and Minho found his gaze drifting to him every now and then, a little captivated by how he had removed his sweater, how his hair was swept away from his forehead, to help him paint better. He was undeniably good looking, his sense of fashion was adorable, his overgrown hair gave him that fluffy look… Minho found his heart clench in fondness.

Jongin was trying to make their chore bearable with conversation and was going on about their old jerseys, how they had become the same blue as the blue they were painting the skies. The color had run with every wash, it was quite a pain. 

“Yeah, I ruined a whole batch of laundry.” Minho chuckled, “My white sheets are still blue.”

“Dude, you only ruined white sheets,” Jongin continued, “I even ruined my underwear. They are all light blue now–”

Minho was laughing at his words as he tried blowing away the hair that had come undone from his parting, tickling his forehead.

“When they changed the jerseys to black I washed it alone, thank god it was of better quality– oh, we are out of paint, I’ll go get some–”

“Nah, I’ll get it.” Minho got u