“How do you lose a neon green suitcase?” Baekhyun pointedly stared at the back of Jongdae’s head as he looked through the window of a shoe store. One of the retail workers inside was measuring a woman’s foot. 

“How do you lose luggage?” Jongdae opened the fanny pack clipped around his waist and took out one of those folded fans held together with what looked like popsicle sticks. He flicked the fan open and London’s skyline spread out in his hand. "Like, where did it go?"  

They were at a flea market trying to restock Jongdae’s wardrobe after some careless baggage handler had misplaced it. The wide, cobblestone street was lined with folding stalls, each devoted to a strangely specific item. Floral porcelain teapots. Baskets of silver spoons. When they entered the market, Baekhyun had to yank Jongdae away from a stall that only sold short sleeve button downs. 

It seemed like a pleasant enough afternoon. Somewhere, a stereo was playing old music. Everything smelled sweet because of a food cart nearby serving honey-roasted nuts. Baekhyun brushed a row of sparkling glass chandeliers hanging from a low-strung beam and scattered flecks of rainbow across an antique dining table set. 

But sweat dripped down the side of his face and blotted the back of his shirt. It was so hot, even the air wriggled under the blistering sun. 

“Were your boat shoes in there?”

“They were.” 

“Thank god,” Baekhyun said. 

Jongdae frowned. "You don't laugh at a funeral, Baekhyun." 

“They made you look like a privileged douchebag. You’re better off without them." 

Jongdae was ominously quiet for a moment. "I wasn't going to tell you this, but I rolled them up in a pair of your black skinny jeans." 

Baekhyun whipped his head around. "What?" 

"I wanted to spare your feelings, but since we don't share the same interest, I think you should know that your precious babies have gone to luggage limbo."

“Which ones?” he asked lowly. 

Jongdae grinned like an evil mastermind, his five-foot-six chin up and proud to be a permanent migraine in Baekhyun’s life. “The ripped ones.”

“Which ones?”

Baekhyun glared at a girl eating cubed watermelon from a chilled tupperware container. A sudden breeze scooped up her long skirt and blew it into the miserable air. He gawked at the long stretch of the street they were walking down, waiting for his turn. 

Jongdae patted his shoulder. “Look on the bright side. You can buy a new, less holey pair today. Preferably one with no holes at all.” 

“The holes are the point. They sell the entire outfit.” 

“Well, considering you’re dating history, no one’s buying.” 

Baekhyun momentarily considered swatting Jongdae up the nose with his stupid fan. Till this day, Baekhyun wondered what kind of elaborate plan the universe had to pull off in order to make Jongdae his best friend. In the entire world. That’s a lot of people who could’ve been his best friend instead. If it was Baekhyun up there making all the big decisions, he wouldn’t have thought to put them together. He would’ve seen the boy who wanted to stay at home and the boy who wanted to play outside and figured it would probably be a bad idea. But that hadn't happen.

The two of them had met on the playground during recess one day and made each other laugh so hard, Baekhyun pulled a muscle in his neck. When he didn’t show up to school the next day, Jongdae had made his way over to Baekhyun’s house, where he had found him lying on his bed unable to move his neck, and proceeded to give Baekhyun the silent treatment until he could sit up again and apologize to Jongdae for making him think he was dead.

Then they had become friends and stayed friends, even though as they grew older their differences continued to pile up and eventually outweighed anything they had in common. Baekhyun hadn’t changed much. He was like that, stubborn to a major fault. When he denounced cucumber for the rest of his life at the age of eight, he had meant it. Jongdae, on the other hand, had become and entirely different person on the outside. He had traded in mud-stained uniforms for sweater vests and cardboard sleighs for portable first aid kits.

Baekhyun wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, desperately wanting to jump into a cold shower and feel clean again. He felt sticky and jet-lagged and deeply wronged by British Airways.     

“Just a reminder, I have two of these babies,” Jongdae pointed to his purple sun visor. “The offer is still on the table. Just say the words ‘Jongdae, I bow down to your superior fashion sense.’”

Baekhyun scanned the outfit Jongdae was wearing: an “I ❤️ London” T-shirt tucked into khaki shorts. He looked like a full-blown tourist, though Baekhyun didn’t know if it was intentional or just an unavoidable consequence of stopping by the gift shop across their dorm building to get Jongdae some clothes to wear before freshening up after what ended up being a fifteen-hour flight from Seoul. (It was supposed to be only thirteen, but Baekhyun accounted for the extra two hours it took to reassure his teary-eyed mother he could keep himself alive in another country and pull a full-on crying Jongdae away from his.)  

The gift shop had been designed for the sole purpose of making its customers spend their money. Banners hung from the ceiling announcing limited offers on dorming essentials such as “I ❤️ London” paperweights and desk lamps in the shape of Big Ben. One of them had included a twenty-percent discount and a free keychain along with every purchase exceeding a hundred dollars. Baekhyun didn’t think any student capable of entering higher education would be duped so easily, but Jongdae had grabbed two baskets at the door and began shoving various paraphernalia into them as if he was competing on a game show. Baekhyun had tried to talk Jongdae out of blowing through the pocket money their parents had given them as he followed him around the store, but Jongdae wouldn’t listen.

“Why don’t you just buy a keychain.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

“Getting robbed?”

Jongdae waved a Union Jack flag in his face before putting it in his basket, overflowing with a bunch of other useless stuff. “I think we need a scented candle.”

After that, Baekhyun had walked away. But while he was scanning the shelves, he came across a pen that dualed as a flashlight and thought, Why not?And just like that, he had found himself into Jongdae’s madness, as he always was eventually, holding up things and shouting their prices across the aisles so Jongdae could add them up.

He was a math genius. An actual genius. Does number theory for fun kind of genius. In other areas it was hard to tell which one of them was the smarter one. Most of the time they both looked like a couple of idiots who didn't know what they were doing, two fish that had hopped up out of the water but forgot about the part where they needed to grow legs so they kind of just pulled each other around by the tail. 

They had left the store, arms loaded with bags. Boxes were still unpacked in their dorm but they had been able to drink coffee from the communal kitchen in the set of tea cups they had bought. Jongdae had also picked out two identical T-shirts and sun visors, wanting them to look cute and coupley as they walked the streets of London. Baekhyun had been violently against the idea, but Jongdae had done his big-pleading-sparkly-eyes thing and he had yielded to wear only the shirt. Then they had played rock-paper-scissors over who would get the Big Ben desk lamp. 

“I said no. I rarely change that answer,” Baekhyun said.

“Fine, be stubborn,” Jongdae huffed. “Byun Baekhyun, at the tender age of 18, died of heatstroke because he didn’t listen to his best friend. He will be remembered for his collection of oversized hoodies, being allergic to coconut, and not curing cancer.” 

“I hate you.” 

Baekhyun stopped short when he spotted a Levi’s store a few feet away from them. It was odd to find one where they were but there it was, polished floors and neatly shelved jeans standing out amongst all the old wood and faded paint surrounding it. 

“What about over there?” he asked hopefully, eager to enter a store with proper air conditioning.

Jongdae squinted. “The Levi’s store?”

“Let’s just check it out. If anything, you can buy some pants.”

“Jeans you mean.”

“Same thing,” Baekhyun said and dragged Jongdae away from where he was eyeing a stall selling miniature versions of ancient Greek statues.

“No,” Jongdae said, some concern in his voice. “It isn’t.”

A bell dinged off above him when Baekhyun entered the Levi’s store and a gust of cool wind pressed itself to his damp skin. He sighed happily and leaned his head back. 

“I recommend the vents in the jeans’ section.”

Baekhyun snapped back straight. A young Korean boy that looked about their age stood next to a rack of jean jackets. He was tall and broad-shouldered and had ears that stuck out of a shaggy blonde mullet like pot handles. He wore a white T-shirt with a red Levi’s logo slapped across it, the same as all the other employees in the store, except the boy had also thrown a fluffy teal cardigan over it. And he was cute, which seemed like an important thing to take a separate notice of. 

“Circulation gets the best there,” Levi boy explained.  

Baekhyun’s mouth opened and then forgot the next thing to do.

Jongdae swiftly came to his rescue. “Do you sell any pants?” he asked. 

“Just jeans for now,” Levi boy said. “It’s a small store.”

Jongdae was pleased nonetheless. “See, not the same thing.” 

This would be the part when Baekhyun rolled his eyes and came back to a world in which cute boys didn't cause him to dither about like a witless idiot. But he didn't.

“If you need any help, just call me over,” Levi boy said.

Baekhyun nodded wordlessly, and he would've just stood there for the rest of the day if Jongdae hadn't taken his arm and hauled him away. 

 

As soon as they got to the jeans section, Jongdae took him by the shoulders. “What was that?” 

“Nothing," Baekhyun said too quickly. "It was nothing.” 

Jongdae shrugged. “Alright.” He released him to browse through the wall of shelves stacked with impeccably folded jeans. 

“How do you think they fold these?” Jongdae poked his head between the shelves. “I can’t unfold one and check. What if I don’t fold them back right?” He mumbled something about entropy as Baekhyun carded through a rack of shirts. 

Shirts because that’s what they technically were. The Levi’s store was quite small compared to the ones Baekhyun had seen in outlet malls back in Korea, more similar to a thrift store. Clothes were separated into distinct sections but there didn’t seem to be more than one or two of each item, so sweaters, button-downs and T-shirts were hung up on the same racks.

In the middle of the store, a display table was piled with graphic tees, none of them the same. The jeans section was just the far back wall where they were. Cardigans and coats hung from longer racks in the opposite corner. Next to the entrance were leather and jean and puffer jackets. Old furniture that looked like it had been bought from the flea market right outside had been arranged in random places. A neon red Levi’s sign was propped up on the seat of a cracked leather wingback. A waist-high antique mirror leaned against the wall near him. Potted plants grew on top of three rusted maroon chairs placed in front of a mannequin wearing only a long fur coat. 

But the store was pristine. The floor glistened under the sunlight that beamed through the glass doors. The walls were painted a flawless cream white and the display tables were either made from polished oak or smooth black steel. And the clothes were folded with such care and precision, it looked like no one had been in the store yet, but a handful of customers wandered around, their hands hovering but not touching, as if they felt the same as Jongdae, like some universal order would be disturbed and unable to be put back. 

Baekhyun jumped when Levi boy appeared in front of him like a magic trick. He gave a quick, nervous glance around to see if anyone noticed. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Levi boy looked apologetic but also halfway towards a smile. It caused something to spark and explode in Baekhyun’s brain. He imagined a frayed wire sticking out of his cerebral cortex like a fuse. What was happening to him? 

“It’s okay. I didn't need a heart anyway.” 

Levi boy’s half-smile became a full one. “I just came over ‘cause I forgot to tell you we’re having a sale. On jeans, obviously. Buy one pair, get another 50% off.” 

“We’re just looking around for now, but thank you,” Baekhyun said. He expected Levi boy to look annoyed but he just nodded understandingly.

“It’s totally fine if you just came in here for the AC.” 

Baekhyun sputtered. “No, that’s not why. We’re shopping.” 

Levi boy rested his arms on the top of the rack and leaned over. “Really? I thought you were looking around?”

He had on a playful smirk. The most obnoxious thing about it was that Baekhyun didn’t feel the urge to wipe it off by saying something smart. 

In one of his regular shows of defiance, Baekhyun unhooked a shirt he thought Jongdae would like. It was made out of sweater material and split down the middle to separate two shades of blue. 

He showed the shirt to Jongdae.

“Yeah, I guess it would look nice with a pink collar.”

“Fantastic,” Baekhyun said, urging it into Jongdae’s hands. “Try it on then.” 

“Here,” Levi boy reached over and Baekhyun almost backed up into the shelves. But he just took the shirt, removed the hanger and handed it back to Jongdae. “I’ll get a dressing room ready for you guys.” 

When Levi boy was no longer within hearing range, Jongdae said, “Well I’m charmed. Are you charmed?"

“He has a mullet. That’s the kind of life choices he makes," he mumbled. "Huge red flag.”

Jongdae hummed in agreement. “His ears are pretty ridiculous too.” 

Baekhyun frowned, for some reason defensive. “No they’re not.”

“Of course you would think that, Dumbo.” Jongdae pinched his ear. 

Baekhyun swatted his hand away and continued to browse through the rack of shirts, grimly realizing they actually had to buy something now. But the store had a decent selection of clothing. Jongdae even raised his eyebrows in interest as Baekhyun swept past a chiffon button down whose color reminded him of raw salmon. 

“I think I saw some cardigans over there,” Jongdae said.

“Then let’s go over there.” Anything to change the topic. 

“You should pick out something too so that boy can come over again and take the hanger off for you,” Jongdae said, smiling knowingly. A passing thought made its way across his mind like a feather in the wind, blissful and unaware.

Smiles were far much nicer when they came from Levi boy.

Baekhyun held onto the blue sweater/shirt while Jongdae slipped on cardigans and spun around in front of a mirror.

“The black one is more practical.”

“The black one is depressing,” Jongdae said, and handed him a pastel yellow cardigan.

Baekhyun threw the shirt over his shoulder and took it begrudgingly.

“Everything goes with black,” he grumbled.

“You need to embrace color Baekhyun. I keep on telling you, red would look great on you.”

Baekhyun felt something brush his shoulder. He turned around. Levi boy was there again, smiling, the blue sweater/shirt neatly folded over his arm. This time, Baekhyun noticed a dimple in his left cheek. “I’ll put this in your dressing room.” 

Jongdae froze mid-spin in front of the mirror and then made a rather obvious show of looking away.   

Levi boy pointed to the cardigan. “Do you want me to get you a smaller size? That’s a large.”

Baekhyun stumbled around for something to say that wouldn’t show up in his nightmares later on. “Uh, sure.” 

Jongdae was shaking his head when Baekhyun turned back around.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Take it as a preventive measure.”

By the time they made their way to the dressing rooms, Jongdae had a heap of clothes in his arms. “Who knew you could find so many cute things at a Levi’s store?”

The teasing tone of his voice suggested he didn’t just mean the clothes. Baekhyun gave him a warning look. 

“I think he likes you too,” Jongdae said with confidence, as if he wasn’t manifesting miracles. 

“No, he doesn’t.”  

“He’s giving you special attention.” Jongdae gestured around the rest of the busy store. There was a long line formed in front of the register. “So many people in fashion distress.” 

“He’s not the only one who works here.”

As if on cue, another employee stepped out from behind the red curtains hung over the entrance to the dressing rooms. “You can’t take all of those in. Max is six per customer.”

“I got it Tony,” Levi boy’s head popped out from behind the curtain. His sudden presence had become less of a surprise and more of a delightful event Baekhyun was unknowingly waiting to reoccur. 

He ushered them inside and opened the door to an empty dressing room. The lights around the mirror were , giving off a soft glow. Jongdae walked in and dumped his pile of clothes on a vanity chair. 

Baekhyun lingered in the doorway. “That guy, Tony, said we could only bring in six pieces of clothing.” 

“I’ll let you guys slide,” Levi boy said. “You don’t seem like someone who leaves a mess behind.” 

“Thanks, uh…” 

Baekhyun hadn’t been able to make direct eye contact being so close to him, so he had been focusing on the pearl choker Levi boy was wearing, except now, for a brief, brave moment, in which he looked all the way up. “I didn’t get your name.” 

Levi boy blinked. The shape of his eyes were lovely and worth it and Baekhyun thought he should take some more risks so he tapped the left side of Levi boy’s chest and said, “Aren’t you supposed to be wearing it?”

Levi boy looked down. “Oh!” He drew his cardigan away to reveal the name tag stuck to his shirt underneath. 

“Chanyeol.” Baekhyun tried it out like a new, sweet flavor. “I’ll remember that.” 

He rushed inside the dressing room. As soon as the door was closed, he leaned against it and his legs made a noble effort not to give out. 

“Did you just flirt?” Jongdae's eyes were big and unbelieving. 

Baekhyun winced. “How bad was it?”

“Didn’t you see him blush?”

Baekhyun’s vision tumbled. “No, I didn’t see that.”

“Maybe,” Jongdae balled up a mint green sweater vest (where the hell had he found one?) and chucked it at him, “you would’ve if you hadn’t shut the door in his face.”

The realization hit him like an oncoming train to the gut. “, I shut the door in his face.” 

“But I’m still proud of you.” Jongdae shot up two thumbs of encouragement. 

Baekhyun threw the sweater vest back at him. 

The only thing he had brought into the dressing room was a pair of black skinny jeans to replace the one lost with Jongdae’s luggage and a black turtleneck that shimmered under the lighting in the dressing room.

Baekhyun frowned as he twisted his shoulders in the mirror to inspect the shiny material. “I thought it was plain.”

“You mean boring.” Jongdae said. “It’s a sign from the universe.”

“The universe can shut it.”

“It’s nice,” Jongdae said. “Subtle.”

“Yeah, as subtle as a disco ball,” Baekhyun muttered and took the shirt off just as Jongdae opened the dressing room without warning. He scrambled to cover himself. 

“Chanyeol was being too kind. I need a larger size.”

While he waited for Jongdae, Baekhyun scrolled through the texts his mother had sent him while he was on the plane.

When you cook rice, your hand should be just below the water level. Wear sunblock when you go outside (too late for that one). Don’t wash all your clothes at once, separate darks and lights. Call me every day, whenever you want. Just make sure you call. 

I miss you, he texted back.

His mother responded instantly, as if she had been sitting by the phone. Oh honey, we miss you too. 

When Jongdae returned, he had two shirts in his hands. He dropped one in Baekhyun’s lap.

“Try that on.”

“Why are you smiling like that?”

Jongdae shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, but what he said next was in fact the biggest deal of Baekhyun’s life. And no, that wasn’t hyperbole. Baekhyun’s entire existence could be summed up into three very short, very sad sentences. An undeviating routine: Eat. Sleep. Hang out with Jongdae.  

“Chanyeol gave it to me. Told me to ask you to try it on.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t asking you to try it on?”

“Pretty sure. He said, ‘Ask your cute friend to try this on.’ It doesn’t take a genius, even though I am one—"

Baekhyun sprung to his feet, clutching the shirt tightly, as if someone was going to take it away from him. “He thinks I’m cute?”  

“Well, not that part.”

Baekhyun pictured strangling Jongdae with one of his dreadful bow ties.

“Just try it on. You don’t have to buy it.” He peeked at the price tag and recoiled. As if he hadn’t just spent ten dollars on a beer hat. Jongdae didn’t even drink beer. He liked his alcohol colorful, just the way he liked everything else.

Baekhyun put on the shirt. The material was soft and flowy, like gently pushing water between your fingers. It was a navy blue button-down patterned with the outlines of white and red leaves, but mostly red. (That detail didn’t skip past him nor Jongdae, who shouted with absolute glee that his “Get Baekhyun to Wear Red” agenda was being fulfilled.) It fit him wonderfully. 

“Oh my god, do you actually have a body?” Jongdae rotated him around in the mirror. “Look at your chest and your back. I can finally see all your y shapes.”

Baekhyun brought his shoulders back in a burst of self-confidence. He checked himself out in the mirror. Jongdae was right, Chanyeol was right—the shirt looked good on him. More than good, Baekhyun was starting to feel hot. And not the kind he was feeling an hour ago under the grueling sun. This was the kind of hot that showed up in a perfume commercial, unannounced and for no reason whatsoever.

“I have an idea,” Jongdae said. “Put the black turtleneck underneath it. The shiny one.”

Baekhyun, for once, didn’t argue. For once, he wasn’t stubborn. He handed himself over to Jongdae’s fashion expertise without a fight. He pulled the black shirt over his head and then slipped the button-down over it. Jongdae stood in front of him with a hand under his chin. He reached for the buttons and fastened them, leaving the top four undone, and then tucked the bottom of the shirt into Baekhyun’s jeans.

“That’s even better. God Baek, your chest.”

Baekhyun shooed Jongdae aside. “Move, move, move. Let me see.”

“Don’t just ing look at it,” Jongdae said. He started cursing when he got all worked up about something. “Buy it. Worship it. Burn it as a sacrifice. Wait, not the last one. If anything happens to that shirt, I don’t know what I would do to myself.”

“Do you really think I should buy it?”

“Do I really—” Jongdae closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. “Baekhyun, I will slap you. Don’t think I won’t or I can’t. I’ve been holding back for years.”

“You’ve been thinking about slapping me for years?”

“Since the day we became best friends. We were playing together in the park and you were too fat to go up the seesaw. At that very moment I thought, ‘I want to slap this kid because he looks like he’s about to cry.’ But then my mom would’ve taken away my TV privileges for a week.” Then Jongdae gasped and spread his hands out in front of him like starbursts. “I have another idea. Wait here.”

Jongdae came back with a necklace. Three layered silver chains. The one at the bottom swooped low, just above his belly button.

“Are you crying?”

Jongdae looked near tears. "My best friend is so ing hot.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic. How much is it?” Baekhyun asked, tracing a red leaf boarding the cuff with a thumb.  

“Don’t think about that. Buy it, Baekhyun,” Jongdae insisted.

“I feel like we’re being conned.”

“Oh, we definitely are. That boy’s smile is so kind, he could convince an asteroid to turn around. Did you see his dimple?”

Baekhyun made an unintelligible noise in the back of his throat. “Okay, I think I’m going to buy it.”

Jongdae’s head shot up. “Baekhyun, it’s fifty dollars.”

“Fifty?!”

“And that’s the sale price.” 

A knock on the dressing room door startled them. “Hey, it’s me again.” Levi boy. Chanyeol. Jongdae swooned into the wall with a hand over his forehead. “How’s it going? Do you need to see more sizes?”

“Perfect, darling. Everything’s perfect!” 

Baekhyun moved to put a hand over Jongdae’s mouth but tripped over a pair of jeans. Jongdae had either tried to catch him or shield himself as Baekhyun nose-dived towards him. His momentum crushed them both against the mirror.

“Okay,” Levi boy said, though his voice sounded uncertain. 

Baekhyun and Jongdae waited for the pair of black high-top Converse they could see underneath the dressing room door to walk away. They took a step, hesitated, then reversed.

“Do you like the shirt?”

“Yeah, I-I do,” Baekhyun called out. 

“That’s great!” A pause. “I know it’s expensive, but I think I can get you a discount if you really like it.

“That would be—Yes, we would like a discount.” Baekhyun hit his forehead. 

“I’ll work on it then.”        

They watched Levi boy’s high-tops walk away. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” Jongdae said.

“Let’s go,” Baekhyun said, shoveling all the clothes Jongdae had set into a “Buy” pile into his arms.

“Are you buying the shirt?” 

“Of course I’m buying the ing shirt.”

They dashed to the line by the counter.

“I hate this,” Baekhyun said. “Chanyeol’s probably going to earn the biggest commission of his entire career from us.”

“It’s worth it.” Jongdae had a dreamy look on his face. “That shirt looked so good on you.”       

“How did Chanyeol know? I would’ve never picked it out for myself.”

Jongdae snorted. “You say that as if you have a record of making outstanding decisions at a clothing store.”

Baekhyun glared at the back of Jongdae’s head as he leaned sideways to get a better view of the cash register. Chanyeol was behind the counter. He was wearing earphones and bobbing his head along to a song while he folded a customer’s clothes.

“Do you think he’ll fold them like those jeans? Because if he does, I’m going to steal him from you.”

Baekhyun hadn’t heard a word. “What song do you think he’s listening to?”

Jongdae looked at him carefully, then smiled. “Never mind you smitten fool, have him.”  

When they were next in line, Jongdae was smiling for an entirely different reason. His point of focus had been diverted to another boy behind the cash register with a black sweater tied around his neck, quietly telling the customer in front of them their total. 

Jongdae’s smile grew timid as they approached the counter. It was a strange sight, but not an unfamiliar one. Jongdae was actually a shy person. With Baekhyun, he was dangerously loud. With other people, especially strangers, he was more reserved. It was like he stuffed himself into a box, his room-filling personality herded into a small corner. But when he became comfortable with someone, he never stopped talking. Getting to know Jongdae had been gradually unwrapping the box and taking him out, all the confetti and colorful paper he came with, and allowing him to be as big and brilliant as he was. 

The boy behind the cash register hadn’t looked up once at his previous customer while he recited from a script the store’s weekly deals on jeans and other apparel but he did a double take at the pair of them. His eyes did a quick scan of Jongdae’s tourist attire and Baekhyun’s matching shirt from behind round black glasses. 

“Hallo.” The boy had a slight accent. The name tag on his white Levi's T-shirt said Kyungsoo Do. “Did you have any trouble finding something?”

Jongdae was unprepared for battle. He hadn’t been set on which to start off with, so he ended up using an awkward mashup of “hi” and “hey” that sounded something like “hieeyy.” Kyungsoo waited for an answer to his second question but didn’t get one.

“Did anyone assist you today?”

Jongdae put his hands on the counter and then took them off again. “Um, him.” He pointed to Chanyeol, who had pulled out his earphones when they had walked up to the cashier. 

“I’ll ring these two up, Soo,” he said.

Kyungsoo raised his eyebrows but didn’t protest an early break. Jongdae’s eyes followed him longingly as he slumped down into a chair and took out his phone.

“I was able to get you that discount,” Chanyeol said. “Saved you twenty dollars.”

Twenty dollars was hardly anything, but Chanyeol looked so proud and accomplished, Baekhyun pretended it was a million. “That’s amazing. You’re amazing. Wow, thank you.”

Chanyeol beamed at him. “Do you guys go to school here?” 

Baekhyun didn’t hear the question. He was staring at Chanyeol scanning the tag on the navy button-down. Then he was staring at his hands. 

Jongdae answered for him. “Not yet. We’re part of the exchange program at Oxford this year.” 

“Really? We go there too. What’s your major?” 

Baekhyun’s thoughts buffered. When he finally processed what Chanyeol had said, the ground opened up and offered him a grave to lie in. 

“Astrophysics.”

Jongdae was focused on the conversation, whereas Baekhyun was trying to be anywhere else, so only he saw Kyungsoo look up from his phone, eyebrows peaked in interest. 

“I’m a Biology major.” 

Baekhyun gaped at the ceiling. He sent out a message to whatever higher power was meddling with his life. What do you think you’re doing?  

Jongdae, on the other hand, was bouncing on his feet with delight. “So’s Baekhyun.” 

Just then a couple walked out of the dressing rooms, wearing matching red Levi’s T-shirts with blue logos. They stood in front of the red curtain and took a picture, the girl kissing her boyfriend on the cheek. Chanyeol noticed them too. 

"That's sweet," he said. 

Jongdae grinned at their own matching shirts.

“So are you two…?”

Baekhyun and Jongdae stared blankly at Chanyeol.

“A couple?” 

“A couple of what?” Jongdae asked at the same time Baekhyun said, “Like romantically?”

Chanyeol stifled a laugh. When he tucked in his chin, Baekhyun noticed a mole on the bridge of his nose. He cleared his throat. 

“We’re just friends.” 

“Best friends,” Jongdae amended.

“Cute,” Chanyeol said, and he almost felt in love. 

Baekhyun wouldn’t know. He’d never been in love before, nothing further than a harmless middle-school crush. But that was nothing compared to the jumps and flips his stomach was doing right now. His feelings felt like melted ice cream, warm and sweet and sticky on his fingers. 

Maybe he was overreacting. The heat had gone to his brain. Yeah, that’s what it was. His usual calm and logical mind had been left dazed by the hot sun, not Chanyeol’s polite smiles and dimpled cheeks. 

“That makes your total one hundred dollars and fifty-two cents.”

Jongdae inhaled sharply. Baekhyun gave Chanyeol his card with a weak smile even though all of the clothes they had bought save for one shirt was Jongdae’s. (After the gift shop, Jongdae had thrown his card under the mattress of his bunk bed and forbade himself to use it again until the semester started.)

When Chanyeol bent down behind the register to get some bags, Jongdae hauled him back by his arm. “Ask him for his number,” he whispered into Baekhyun’s ear, an underlying threat present there as well.  

“No,” he whispered back harshly. 

“Baekhyun,” Jongdae whined. “He likes you.” 

“Stop.” 

“He likes you, he likes you, he likes you.” 

Chanyeol stood back up again and Baekhyun and Jongdae broke up their side bar. He gingerly placed their clothes into three paper bags. Yes, he did fold them like the jeans. No, Baekhyun did not ask him for his number. 

He picked up their bags from the counter and stood in place, digging the soles of his feet into the store’s pristine wood finish. “Have a nice day,” is all he ended up saying. 

 

“He’s single!” Jongdae shrieked, scrolling through Chanyeol’s Instagram. As soon as they’d left the Levi’s store, he had pulled out his phone like he was unsheathing a blade and scoured the Internet for any chance Baekhyun might still have left. “Baekhyun, he’s single. We can go back.” 

The sun had begun to set and it was cooler outside. They had stopped by the food cart selling honey-roasted nuts on their way back and bought two bags of peanuts and a large lemonade. Baekhyun was sitting on the curb, defeated, hugging a Levi’s bag to his chest while Jongdae fed him his consolation prize.

“That would be so weird.” Baekhyun dropped his head into his hands. “Why couldn’t he just have asked me for my number?” 

Jongdae took a sip of lemonade from a badly chewed-up straw (Baekhyun’s doing). “I don’t think he knows you like him.” 

“Huh?” Baekhyun lifted his head. 

“He kept on trying to make eye contact with you at the register. Did you notice?”

“No,” he mumbled. 

“Exactly,” Jongdae said, standing up, and Baekhyun knew he was in for it. “You were totally zoned out. On top of that, you barely said a word to him every time he came over. Taking the hangers off our clothes, preparing a dressing room for us—those were excuses. He just wanted to talk to you, Baek.”

The sun haloed the steeples of a small chapel down the street. The sky left behind had turned a blush-pink, and Baekhyun was slowly getting there himself. He brought his hands up to his face and pressed his cheeks. Jongdae bent down and put his hands over Baekhyun’s. 

“So, do you wanna turn back now or—”

“Wow, I’m an idiot.” 

“I’ve been saying.” 

Baekhyun rose to his feet. His mind was made up. Jongdae once told him his stubbornness would either get him to Mars or an emergency room. It was going to be good for something today. “Okay, I’m going back.” 

“Finally!” Jongdae shouted and the quiet London street was disturbed. “Let’s go get your man!”

A few people looked their way, a flock of pigeons were scared into flight, and Baekhyun rolled his eyes fondly. “I just need a number in my phone that isn’t yours.” 

Having the better sense of direction, Jongdae held his hand and led them past market stalls closing up their businesses. A breeze finally decided to help him along and swept up his feet, pushing him forward. He heard music again, this time more clearly, something newer and just beginning. A man walking the opposite direction carefully carried a miniature Greek statue home. They were getting closer. Turning a corner, Baekhyun was faced with shelves of immaculately folded jeans and the bright red logo of the Levi’s store.

 

Kyungsoo was about to chuck a roll of quarters at Chanyeol’s head. His so-called coworker was only an arm’s length away, pretending to reorder a display table. He wouldn’t even have to aim.

How Chanyeol had managed to keep his job this long, Kyungsoo didn’t know. Once he saw Chanyeol go to the back after telling their manager he was getting something for a customer and later found him mid-nap on the couch in the break room. At least he helped behind the register, but since that boy had left the store, somehow Chanyeol had managed to accomplish even less. 

But the line at the register had shortened out and only three customers remained in the store, so there wasn’t much work left to do. 

“You should busy yourself with something, like putting back the clothes in the dressing rooms,” Kyungsoo told Chanyeol. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Chanyeol sighed. “I can’t go back there Soo. It’s too soon. The memories are still fresh.”

“When will they be dead and long gone?” 

“Kyungsoo-ah,” Chanyeol pouted, seeing that his heartbroken Chad bit wasn’t going to work on him. 

Kyungsoo didn’t understand Chanyeol. Every year before school started, the store had a big sale week. This was also the week Chanyeol put in the most effort to avoid work. He spent as much time as he could get away with in the break room and kept his name tag hidden so customers wouldn’t ask him about deals he’s supposed to have committed to memory but would much sooner be ready to do literally anything else. But as soon as that boy had walked in the store, Chanyeol had stars shooting out of his eyes. 

Kyungsoo didn’t think much of it though. Chanyeol had a fickle heart. He had barged into his dorm and sworn to have fallen in love with someone he had passed by on the way several times. Someone he didn’t know, had never talked to before. Then again, a lot of people he knew developed crushes quickly. They acted on sudden and immediate interests, unafraid of unknown territory or the risk of rejection. It didn’t take much for them, just one good, long look. Kyungsoo wasn’t as fearless. His nerves were soft and sensitive and ridden with doubt. He needed to be convinced that he wouldn't be disappointed. 

“I didn’t think picking up customers would be an issue with you. I thought you swore them off after that allergic reaction you had to a woman’s perfume last year.” 

Chanyeol unfolded a black tank top he had just folded and started all over. “He was different.” 

Kyungsoo didn’t buy it. “He was cute, that’s all. You don’t even know his name.” 

“Byun Baekhyun."

"Huh?"

"That was the name on his card,” Chanyeol explained. “It had a funny cartoon on it too.” 

“You’re so weird.” 

Chanyeol moped all the way to the back of the counter and slumped in the chair next to him. Kyungsoo punched the register open and started to balance the stack of twenties. When he got to the tens, Chanyeol decided he didn’t want to be ignored anymore and dropped his head onto Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “Was I too forward Soo?"

Kyungsoo didn’t know how to answer that. Chanyeol was a heart-on-his-sleeve loser. He had to be gentle. 

“I thought I was after he kind of ignored me the first couple of times I tried talking to him, but in the dressing rooms—” 

“He bought the shirt, didn’t he?” Kyungsoo interrupted. “That means you didn’t scare him away. Just means you lost your employee discount for the month.”

Then it played out like a scene from one of those romantic movies Chanyeol could keep him for hours talking about. Like Mr. Darcy emerging from a misty field. Elizabeth, be my still by beating heart, waiting for him to reach her. The boy—Baekhyun—stood in the doorway, London behind him, looking around the store till he found Chanyeol (who almost fell off his chair). The bell above the door was still swinging by the time Baekhyun stepped up to the counter, looking as surprised to be here as Chanyeol was to see him again and said, “Can I talk to you?” 

Baekhyun’s friend had also come along for moral support. He stood behind Baekhyun, looking ready to tackle Chanyeol if he dared to reject him. Kyungsoo had to admit it was pretty intimidating for someone who tucked in their shirt and carried a fanny pack. 

“O-Okay,” Chanyeol said, but didn’t move. He had a blank look on his face, as if there had been a lag in his senses. What his eyes were seeing and what his ears were hearing hadn’t made it all the way to his brain yet. 

“Outside maybe,” Baekhyun said. 

“Why?” 

Baekhyun was a little annoyed now. “Because I want to ask you out, dummy.” 

Chanyeol mouth dropped slightly. “Oh.” 

Baekhyun didn’t wait for him. He was out the door as fast as he came in. Chanyeol bumped into a mannequin on his way out and almost tipped it over. And then they were talking, Chanyeol looking down at Baekhyun, Baekhyun looking down at the street, the sunset, a pack of dogs and their walker as they passed by, anywhere but Chanyeol. 

Baekhyun’s friend lingered behind, not so intimidating anymore. Kyungsoo stared at him. Chanyeol said doing that made people feel uncomfortable, but Baekhyun’s friend took it as a sign of encouragement. 

But as he was about to say something, a lady walked up to the register and he had to step aside. He stood quietly near the counter while Kyungsoo billed her up and kept on glancing at the front of the store. Kyungsoo was doing it too. 

One glance—Chanyeol putting his number into Baekhyun’s phone. Another glance— Chanyeol clicking a selfie and Baekhyun taking the chance to look at him. A third glance—Baekhyun saying something and making Chanyeol laugh. That’s good. Chanyeol didn’t bear well being around serious people. 

“Ma’am, this coupon is expired,” he said, handing it back to the lady. A huge pair of gold hoops weighed down her earlobes. When she spoke, Kyungsoo got distracted watching them spin on her shoulders. 

“But it’s only been a day. Can’t you just give me the discount?” 

No ma’am, I’m living off minimum wage. I can’t afford to do anything.  

“I wish I could do something.” He tried his best to sound like he meant it, throwing in a smile for good measure. 

“Well, it’s worth a shot,” the lady said. “Money talks, but all mine ever says is goodbye.” 

Was that a joke?  

Over her shoulder, Kyungsoo catches Baekhyun’s friend giving him a quick nod as if he had read his mind, so he trusted him and laughed. 

The lady was successfully flattered. Kyungsoo continued to bag her clothes, feeling eyes on the back of his neck. When he looked up, Baekhyun’s friend turned his interest towards the sleeve of a discarded gray cardigan hanging over the edge of the counter. Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. These short, darting glances were ridiculously inefficient. 

“Do you want a receipt?” Kyungsoo asked the lady. 

“No, that’s okay,” she said, picking up her bags.   

“Great! Have a nice day,” he said, and ripped her receipt out of the printer, grabbing a pen he had dropped into his empty coffee cup. He turned the receipt and scribbled a number on the back.

“You said you were an astrophysics major?” 

It took Baekhyun’s friend a while to realize he was talking to him. “Yeah, I did.”

“How good are you with rockets?” he asked. 

“Like what, theoretically? Exit velocity, Newton’s third law of motion, that kind of stuff? I’m Jongdae by the way. I’m with that guy.” Jongdae pointed at Baekhyun standing outside. 

“I know. Best friend, right?”

Jongdae smiled shyly. “That’s me.” 

“I meant, can you build them? Those homemade ones.” 

Jongdae didn’t have to think about it. “Oh, yeah, definitely.”

“I’m trying to build a rocket for my physics class, but it isn’t launching. Can you help me?” 

Jongdae nodded. “Yeah, of course.” 

He held out the receipt. “That’s my dorm room. I put Chanyeol’s there too.” 

Jongdae took the receipt from him. “Hey, our room numbers make a magic square.” 

“Hm?” 

Jongdae's eyes sparkled. “It’s a mathematical series. My favorite, actually. It’s...” 

Kyungsoo noticed Jongdae talked in a series of commas, as if he was in too much of a rush to cut his words down so he just said them all.

“So you have a grid filled with um, numbers, positive integers—the grid has the same number of rows and columns—” 

“I know what a magic square is, Jongdae.” 

Jongdae looked relieved. “Oh good, because I can’t explain .” 

Kyungsoo laughed. “You did the math on those numbers pretty quick. Impress a lot of people like that?” 

“It wasn’t hard or anything," Jongdae mumbled, all shy again. "They’re small numbers.” He tried to restrain the smile on his face but it wouldn't budge. 

Kyungsoo hoped he didn’t get the wrong idea and took what he said to be more than an innocent compliment. He pointed to the receipt in Jongdae’s hands. 

“Just because I gave you that doesn’t mean I like you or anything. I just need help with a physics project.”

That did the trick. Jongdae’s smile got the hint and hid away. 

“Sorry, that was harsh.” 

“No, it's okay. Better to hear it now than later.” Jongdae sounded genuine. Kyungsoo had expected him to be angry or upset or bored now, which were usually the emotions his not-so confessions were received with, but he wasn’t.

“I don’t really date people right away.” 

“I understand that. You just might be smarter than me,” Jongdae said, and didn’t push it any further. Kyungsoo appreciated that. 

The door chimed open again. Chanyeol stood in the middle of it, halfway inside, halfway out, his attention still with Baekhyun. A customer had to awkwardly maneuver around him to exit the store. 

“I didn’t think he’d do it,” Kyungsoo said.  

“Do you think I would’ve let him come back if that was the case? Have a little faith in my wingmanship.” 

Jongdae had been standing a comfortable foot away from the counter. He closed the distance and took the pen from Kyungsoo’s hand. “When should I come over?”

The whole thing was daring enough to shock Kyungsoo still for a few seconds. “Uh, Wednesday’s good for me. At three.” 

Jongdae wrote the day and time down near his room number. Kyungsoo practically saw the lightbulb spark on above his head when the pen halted and somehow knew what he was going to say next. 

Jongdae looked up and said, “It’s not a date.” 

He waited expectantly in silence but Kyungsoo didn’t humor him. 

“You’re right, that wasn’t funny.” Jongdae waved his hand, dispersing the joke hanging in the air. “Thank you for your honesty. I’ll be there on Wednesday.” 

Jongdae dashed out the door and a customer replaced him. 

“Just a second,” Kyungsoo said. 

He picked up the gray cardigan at the corner of the counter. The material was soft and flimsy. Kyungsoo thought it was from the store, but the stitches around the buttons were coming undone. A couple of them had already fallen off and been replaced with a mismatched pair, the sewing work clumsy but secure. It was probably one of Chanyeol's; he always left them lying around the other clothes. When Kyungsoo folded it, he made sure to tuck the sleeves safely above the center of its chest.  

 

Chanyeol held the door open for Jongdae as he stepped outside and joined Baekhyun. The sky had turned a blackish blue, yet Baekhyun was red-cheeked and dizzy as if the sun was still burning down his back. 

“When should I call?” Chanyeol asked him. “To set a date for, uh, our date? Or do you want to call me?” 

Jongdae tagged himself in. “He’s free next Wednesday.” 

Baekhyun was surprised by this information. “I am?” 

Chanyeol smiled and Jongdae understood his best friend’s dilemma. “I can do Wednesday.”

“Amazing. See how it all works out?” Jongdae lightly nudged his elbow into Baekhyun’s side. 

“I should probably get back and help Kyungsoo close up.” 

Chanyeol had planted himself in the doorway of the Levi's store and was letting out all the cool air. Jongdae snuck a peek inside and saw Kyungsoo roll a rack of clothes out of the dressing rooms. 

“See you on Wednesday,” Baekhyun said.  

His smile wasn’t as bright as Chanyeol’s but Jongdae had always thought it was a sincere one. It made you feel like it was okay to stay a while longer after everyone else had already left the party.

They had only made it to the end of the street when Baekhyun’s phone pinged with a text from Chanyeol. Can I still call?  

Baekhyun almost skyrocketed off the concrete. “What should I say?” 

“It’s not exactly an open-ended question,” Jongdae said.

Baekhyun typed something back. “I told him to call me at ten.” 

“Have you forgotten you share a room with me now? Lights off at ten. Maybe we’ll get rid of those dark bags under your eyes.” 

Baekhyun groaned. “Of all the things that make our friendship unbelievable, you being a morning person is at the top of the list.” 

“How about I just give you his room number and you two can talk it up all night there?” 

Baekhyun narrowed his eyes. “How do you have his room number?” 

“Kyungsoo gave it to me.” Jongdae said as nonchalantly as he could manage. 

“He asked you out?” Baekhyun shrieked. An alley cat its paws on a cafe’s porch step hissed at him. “You were supposed to tell me that, like, five minutes ago.” 

He kept a deep scowl on his face for the rest of the block in protest until they rounded a small apartment complex and started down a hill.

Unexpectedly, Baekhyun was as impassioned about Jongdae’s love life as Jongdae was about his. It didn’t really fit together, looked a little out of order, just like everything else about the two of them. Baekhyun wasn’t a romantic person. He could mercilessly pick apart everything that didn’t make sense to him in a romantic movie. He didn’t believe in invisible red strings or love marked in constellations. But Baekhyun knew Jongdae had had rosey eyes about love since Prince Eric lifted Ariel up out of the sea and spun her around under the sun in the third grade. So when they had watched 500 Days of Summer for the hundredth time and then the hundred and first, Baekhyun had eaten all the popcorn and kept his mouth shut. He had let Jongdae read his love line that one year he had been into crystals and stars signs. And on Baekhyun’s sixteenth birthday, when Jongdae had gotten his heart broken by a stupid boy he had cared about too much, he had actually wished for something when he blowed out the candles on his cake and given fate or stars or time a chance, whichever could make Jongdae feel better. 

And this was what Jongdae loved Baekhyun the most for, how he could be a little less stubborn about the things that mattered to the people he cared about, whether it was in big ways, like studying abroad because Jongdae had always wanted to travel, or smaller, insignificant ways that wouldn’t mean much to anyone else except the person themselves.  

Jongdae kicked a loose pebble on the road and watched it tumble down the incline. “He didn’t ask me out. He needs help with a psychics project.” 

“Is he using you?” Baekhyun asked, his voice telling Jongdae he ready to punch someone for him even though he didn’t know how to. 

“No, he made it clear it’s not a date.” 

“And you’re still going to help him?” 

“I’ll get one eventually,” he said and flashed Baekhyun a victor's smile.

Baekhyun was a little wary of Jongdae’s plan but by this time, he had learned to take the back seat. “Don’t wait too long.” 

The sidewalk was empty when they exited the flea market. Tables left outdoors had their umbrellas closed, resembling rockets about to take off, and Jongdae couldn’t help but think about Kyungsoo, the glasses that kept sliding down his nose, the black sweater tied around his neck. He had a rebel without a cause, wind-swept handsomeness to him. What made it better was that he probably didn’t mean to, that he would be someone to pay attention to pre-flight safety demonstrations and pull you back to the corner of the street at a red light, even if there was no oncoming traffic. 

“You’re okay being alone with Chanyeol?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. First impressions aren’t our strongest sell. Second chances are when we do our best work.” Baekhyun shot him a smile. 

He was right, they didn’t have to be nervous anymore. Jongdae had been dropped off in a foreign country without half of his possessions. Both of them would be nearly broke till they found part-time jobs. They had already messed up. The fear was gone. What could it do to them now? And this city had so many second chances to offer. He counted them up in his head, and it was easy math. A flea market giving broken things a new owner that would fix them up, stitch in their loose sides to make them fit again. A smiling boy patiently waiting for his best friend to take a risk and look at him. A neatly folded receipt kept safe near bandaids and a new set of keys.