“We’ve spent the whole day together, between the photoshoot and your part of sukira,” Ryeowook says once they’ve settled down in his room, popping some vegetables into his mouth. He continues from behind his hand over his mouth, “This isn’t too much for you?”

Maybe it’s playful, but there’s no way to be sure. “It’s time spent happily with you, how could it be too much? I think I’ve slept in your bed more than my own by now!”

Jackpot! The tops of Ryeowook’s ears go pink at the blatant flirting. Henry stuffs some chicken into his mouth, pleased with himself. The older man laments, “What am I going to do with you?” But he’s smiling all the while. Even when Henry makes kissy faces at him in response.

Once he finishes chewing, Henry adds, “Actually, you were really cute earlier today. Your smile...” He may not have the words for it, but he cups the other man’s cheek, holding his gaze with all the sweetness he can muster in his languid state, and goes through the motions of pushing a lock of hair behind his ear even though it immediately falls forward, and that seems to convey his feelings as well as any words could.

Looking all embarrassed, but not unhappy, Ryeowook ducks his head, squeezing Henry’s knee in a way that comes off fond. “Ah, that makes me happy.” Then he looks up and smirks. “Not as much as your pictures from a week or two ago, though.”

“Hyung!” Henry whines. “You’re bringing that up again?”

“What? I’m allowed to look!” Ryeowook insists, mock-haughty. Then he adds more sincerely, with some unknown emotion weaved into what’s otherwise a matter-of-fact compliment, “Your back is really nice.”

Don’t overthink it. Accept the compliment, Henry firmly tells himself. He beams, toothy and wide, deciding to take it at face value no matter how it sounds. “Thanks!” Then he lights up. “Ah, I almost forgot!” He scrambles over to his bag, warmth fading from his knee, half-hearing Ryeowook scold him that he nearly knocked their dinner onto the floor.

The box is sleek, the logo embossed small and silver in the corner of the long rectangle. He holds it delicately, supporting it with both hands - a sign of respect, as he understands it, something that, among all the teasing and joking, he holds dear and wants badly to give, to show. Fundamentally, this form of love supports all the others. Still, he can't say that this is in thanks for kindness, or joy, acceptance, guidance; it would cheapen the very notion to suggest that such a small token could ever equal a mountain of effort, or have the smallest sliver of a chance at rivaling a heart so big that it accepted him without question and found a way to work through their differences.

So he says nothing, letting Ryeowook marvel at this mere object that's hardly anything by comparison.

“This looks expensive!” Ryeowook exclaims, his eyes stunned wide open. “Why are you spending so much already?” But still, he picks it up hesitantly off Henry’s palms. His long, elegant fingers trace the edges, his mouth hanging open a fraction. His plush lips are distracting, they look so nice. He half-heartedly continues, but the words trail off at the end like the near-reflex Henry knows the objection to be by now. “You need to be more careful about what you buy...” After his words fade, Ryeowook drapes the band over his wrist with care; Henry darts in to fasten and adjust it.

“Wow! Gold really matches with you well,” Henry says, caressing the skin of the older’s forearm with the back knuckles of his fingers, enjoying the textures and the contrasting cool bump of the watchband where it’s already slid down.

More than any luxury, though, Ryeowook’s shy smile is a wonder to behold. “Ah, really?”

“Yeah. Hyung is too handsome.” Henry pecks his cheek. To his delight, Ryeowook giggles in response.

“Thank you, really,” Ryeowook tells him softly. Seriously, he’s unbearably cute sometimes. “But don’t do it again,” he adds, trying and failing to look stern for two seconds at most, before he dissolves into laughter. His hand’s unsteady as he picks up a napkin to wipe Henry’s chin.

With an easy laugh of his own and a mock-salute, Henry just tells him, “Yes, sir!” And, unaccountably, feels so damn loved. (Not forgetting to swipe the back of his hand over the same spot after he found he couldn’t quite reach that far with his tongue.) “I promise I will only buy you useless plastic junk from here on out.”

Ryeowook rolls his eyes. “Don’t even think about it, brat.” He taps Henry’s shin with his foot. Undeterred, Henry makes goofy faces at him until Ryeowook decides to kiss him just to make him stop. (It works.)

Once their laughter peters off, they finish their meal surrounded by a comfortable quiet. Since Ryeowook finally got the unreliable door lock he was saddled with fixed, it became that much easier to relax in his room. The older man has a look on his face that tends to mean he’s talked out for the time being, which is no big deal. Henry has plenty to get lost in in his head - snippets of music, replaying conversations with friends, what groceries he should pick up, and just the calm of a reprieve from the pressure of always watching and entertaining.

Being the faster eater, he scribbles his thoughts in the notebook he keeps on the top shelf of the bookcase here expressly for that purpose. He tends to only have the focus for reading in his own room, most days, and even that’ll vary a lot, like, wildly a lot, so when Ryeowook pulls down a book and lies back on his bed with it, the fact that he lifts one arm to make room for Henry makes him that extra little bit happy.

Wasting no time, Henry scuttles in to fill the space, tucking his head into the crook of Ryeowook’s neck. The patch next to his nose gives him barely-there floral-sweet and a hint of the tang of sweat. Between that and his positioning, he instantly drops into a half doze, fingers curled into the covers on either side of the other man, hip and one leg nestled in the open space between Ryeowook’s legs spread out flat, the other stretched out so that his toes hang off the edge. For a second, who knows when, he falls from a waking dream into a real one, but mildly startles back out of it and wonders why.

The same book that Ryeowook’s reading is resting on his upper back between his shoulderblades (Henry thinks it’s funny and also, it tickles a little bit in a pleasant way when Ryeowook turns a page, so he lets Ryeowook put his book on him when they’re like this), the same glasses rest on his face (they make him look absolutely precious, it’s not fair), the unseen outside the room isn’t noisier than usual- Ah, found it! Ryeowook’s looking uncomfortable and... come to think of it, fidgeting under him and his breathing has turned the slightest bit heavier and louder. That doesn’t seem good.

Henry’s insides squirm uncomfortably. He asks without thinking it through, “Do you need me to leave?” Because what if the question earlier was actually a hint and it went right over his head? His mind spins out in the span of less than a second, whirling through, 'Am I making this too difficult for you? Are you bored? Is being with me already too much to handle? Is wanting someone to know me and love me too much to ask for?’

But Ryeowook only looks embarrassed, shrinking back in a way that doesn’t seem conscious, only self-conscious. “No, that’s not it. Ah... Mm. Just give me a couple of minutes?” His head reaches out tilted like he wants a kiss, maybe reassurance, which Henry gives willingly through the quickest press of their lips together. “You'll wait for me?”

“Of course!” Wait, does he think I was asking as a hint? This is too confusing.

Before Ryeowook can leave, they have to disentangle from each other, so Henry yanks his head out of the circle of Ryeowook’s arms quicker than the other can respond and just... rolls off the bed completely. Ryeowook snickers and ruffles his hair.

“You’re too cute,” Ryeowook says, but the tone is lower and rougher than how he usually says that. His ears are pink again, his eyes half-lidded when he holds out his hand to help Henry back up, but after a momentary up-and-down look and a few cursory swipes of his hand over the back of Henry’s shirt and the side of his leg to dust him off, nothing else comes off as unusual. Except maybe that his parting kiss lasts a second longer than it typically does, and he takes his time breaking it off.

Then he turns sharply, undoes the lock and walks out.

Shrugging, Henry bounces back onto the bed and messes around on his phone. He’s gotten through a good chunk of the messages that he actually cares about when the door opens. He turns off the screen because he’ll get wrapped up in it for another twenty minutes without realizing if he doesn’t do that, then shoves his phone in his pocket.

Ryeowook has comes back looking more flushed, but moreso than that, he seems utterly relaxed and happy. His adoring gaze is strong enough to melt any heart, and does in fact melt one when he grasps Henry’s chin and leans down to peck his lips, both cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his forehead. “Hi,” he says, then immediately drapes himself all over the younger.

“C’mere,” Henry tells him even though he’s already very much there, and makes his boyfriend fall with him, the other man objecting through his laughter.

“You’re going to make me fall asleep in my clothes,” Ryeowook mutters from where he’s lying on Henry’s chest after a halfhearted bout of wrestling. He concludes, barely audible in his sleepy voice, “You’re the worst.”

“Love you too.”

-

Almost the entire month had quite possibly been the best he’d ever had.

There’s precisely one overlapping day off - well, more like half day - left before he’s gonna be out of the country for a good while. His sukira segment’s already been stopped ‘cause of that. Kinda . But the rest is awesome! But right now, cuddles. And lazy kisses. The couch is gonna have a hell of an imprint at this rate, he thinks with a huff that barely passes for a laugh.

Although, their meetings are more sporadic than he’d like, to be honest. Not that he’s unhappy about having so much work, per se. But, like... Well, some nights, he could pull off getting back first after sukira, timing a pile of food to get there when Ryeowook’s due back, and usually hanging out with Donghae or talking his energy out to the giant giraffe - a surprisingly good listener, and quite patient - or just taking a nap. Balancing that out with seeing his friends at least once a week and more composing and his career is far from the easiest thing, however.

What he could really use is an extended break; he’s not gonna think about that for too long or he might lose a chunk of his mind.

But he’s doing what he can to be happy. Those times when screens are all they have to make do with, he and his love, they pass a bracelet back and forth each time they meet, with a dash of encouraging words to oversee its passage. It's nothing special to look at, to anyone else. But it's his for at least the next couple of weeks, a comforting weight that he turns and turns at night, out of view of friends and managers alike. This is not theirs to know.

One ritual admitting only two hearts to see inside.

In the daytime, he hides it behind a pocket massager. Or whatever it's called, the little stress ball-looking thing that saves the rest of him through the long days. Something like that makes a great decoy, too. Just coincidence.

Oops, he spaced out on the movie again. This is the only time they’ll get alone for approximately forever, though, or he’d be asleep already. Ryeowook re-packed his suitcase for him, or maybe it’d be more accurate to say packed in the first place, since Henry throws everything in and calls it a day as long as it closes. So that was nice. All taken care of, meaning he doesn’t have to worry about it.

Truly, this is bliss. The achingly sweet slide of Ryeowook's fingers between his own, soft and suffused with new meaning. Not merely like lovers do - not anymore. Worth every sly grin and raised eyebrow it brought their way from insufferable bandmates, because he wouldn't give this up for anything.

Hmmm. Starting to get hungry... Do I wanna make something? Pretty tired, though...

Attention fixed upon the screen only maybe half the time, Ryeowook’s hand wandered throughout. His palm smoothed down and back up Henry’s folded-up leg to mid-thigh, fingers switching to trace a path up the side to his hip, his nails sliding along where they dipped low on his back, idling around in the space left by his waistband loosening from his drooping posture. Henry his hair in return.

Spreading his fingers apart, Ryeowook’s touch makes its way under his shirt, too, and up the length of his back, pressing hard for a few extra up-and-down repetitions in the middle of his back. When he discovered that one is lost to memory, but it’s really soothing. “Mmm,” Henry says, his eyes falling closed. Beside him, Ryeowook giggles cutely, leaving his shirt after two more circuits.

Next is Henry’s arm on that side. Just for fun, he flexes wherever Ryeowook’s hand moves, or tries to, at least. When it works, his beloved’s little gasp is the funniest thing, as though he hasn’t been doing this forever already. How could it possibly be a surprise each time?

Ryeowook sits up then. He looks a little sleepy, but, like, a happy sleepy, smiling with a peek of teeth and a whole lot of affection. His hand rests gently on Henry’s chest now. He starts turning.

Then his knee has hardly landed between Henry’s a couple of seconds ago, and he’s craning up towards him, and something distinct brushes up against him.

That’s when the hyperventilating starts. Henry’s mind races through terrified, half-formed abstract concepts that if paused would go something like I can’t do this and he’s a guy what did you expect it couldn’t last and not again please no.

His head quickly shakes back and forth. He can't look, cannot look at his poor, confused, quite possibly very disappointed boyfriend when he tells him, "I'm sorry, hyung, but I can't,” and he’s on the verge of something he can’t name that has every bit of him coiled tight and shrinking back and the words spilling out of his mouth machine-gun-fast without knowing what he’s saying, “I can't- handle being r-rubbed on like that either. I'm sorry! But I really- it’s just, I really meant everything like that..."

At Ryeowook's loud intake of breath is when Henry finally dares to open his eyes. The other man has his head ducked down; what can be seen of his face is a heartwrenching mixture of mortification and downright horror. "I’m so sorry, I wasn't... I swear I wasn't trying to do that!" He pleads, his voice a rasp on the verge of tears. "I was only going to kiss you. I wouldn't do that! Please believe me." He makes a sound that’s pure misery just then, sniffling dangerously. His sincerity is shining through, matching the growing sheen of his eyes when Henry shakily tilts his partner's chin up, relief and lingering adrenaline unsteadying him.

He registers at the back of his mind that the other man’s scent is wholly his own.

"I believe you," he forces the words out at last, still trembling faintly. He was so scared that- that it was- happening again. He couldn't go through that a second time. The attempts at pushing past his boundaries, the disbelief, the insinuations and insults... One of the worst times in his life came on the heels of another that way, and. Well. It was the very man before him who taught him to trust touch again.

Oh god.

Henry's stomach roils with guilt.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that," Ryeowook says mournfully. As if only realizing now, eyes going wide, he moves away from where he was half straddling Henry's leg, scooting down the length of the couch. Not wanting him to get the wrong idea, Henry grabs his wrist before he can get any farther. He gentles his hold upon seeing Ryeowook startle.

"Please..." He starts, not sure what to say. "I misunderstood. It’s not your fault. You don't have to-" Somehow, he chokes on the word. Ryeowook is stiff next to him, unmoving. "-leave. Please don't leave." The raw emotions scrape his throat, leaving it feeling tight and unhappy. "Unless you want to." With dawning horror of his own, he releases Ryeowook's wrist, his eyes widening to match. The guilt grows.

A steady pressure and warmth lands on his forearm. Ryeowook's teeth are digging into his own bottom lip; his hand makes its way up Henry's arm, over the curve and length of his shoulder, finally carding through his hair.

Whatever the older man sees in Henry's face, it must be enough to answer the questioning look he was sending only a moment ago. Ryeowook closes the gap between them, sitting up on his knees, laying his head on top of Henry's and wrapping his arms around the other's shoulders in silent comfort. If his grip is a little too tight to be entirely comfortable, well, Henry is nonetheless refusing to break the moment by saying so.

"I'm sorry," Ryeowook whispers one more time. Henry just hugs him back, holding Ryeowook by the waist as the last of the adrenaline leaves his system. The surge fades away; he can hear the dialogue on the TV and the faint hum of cars passing by on the street below, all beneath the overlay of Ryeowook's steadily slowing, calming heartbeat.

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, the older man drops down so that they’re at an equal level again, careful to leave some space between them. He leaves his hand open in the gap, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. Henry’s fingers fit smoothly between his; both curl closed at the same time in a well-practiced motion.

This is his wordless answer: Yes, they’re okay. He’s okay now.

A long time later, maybe minutes, Ryeowook pipes up with a wet-sounding chuckle. “To be honest... I’ve seen this movie already, so I’m going to turn it off.”

Their hands naturally unclasp as Henry nabs the remote off the coffee table and holds it out of Ryeowook’s reach, laughing at his loud protests and repeated futile grasping at the thing. However, this time, the press of their bodies together inspires no fear.

“Gimme that already!” Ryeowook’s obviously trying to be commanding, but he sounds petulant instead.

“Okay, okay.” Henry hands it over with a cheeky smile. “I was enjoying your cute annoyed face.”

Ryeowook sits back down, glaring at him, but the pink tips of his ears and the finger he still has hooked in one of Henry’s belt loops give away his true feelings. He huffs and leans into Henry’s side, soon dropping the pretense to lazily nuzzle his exposed upper arm.

-

A bit later, they sit up against the head of the bed together, full and happy, squeezed even closer together than the narrow surface necessitates. Despite their contentment, sleep is somehow in short supply. Henry’s head is growing fuzzy, his brain-to-mouth filter weakening with every minute. The incident earlier has left him feeling somehow willingly open and uncomfortably exposed at the same time.

“So, I don’t know if you know this already, but, actually, Kyuhyun pushed really hard for me to confess.”

“Oh, is that right?” Ryeowook comments while doing wrist stretches. “That’s somewhat surprising, isn’t it?”

“Mhm. He told me more than once that you’re cute, caring, good in bed- Wait a second.” The gears turn at a snail’s pace. “How does he know that?”

When he turns to check in, Ryeowook is looking everywhere except at him. His arms are no longer held in front of him, but tucked into his body, and his hands lie in his lap.

“Look, he and I are really good friends, and Kyuhyun's not one to turn down a convenient , or, he wasn’t back then, and I... I mean...” After a long pause, the older man hurriedly blurts out, “I didn't have a lot of experience then, okay? Because I didn’t know, I thought, I hoped, I would need it. Um, sorry. It's not. It's years in the past, so, it's not a big deal. Right?” Rarely does he come off so... so ly insecure. Not once has that happened in their new relationship, nor even when starting it.

All that’s clear is that it’s real, and that he’s trying so hard that it almost hurts to see, he’s so painfully precious.

“I didn’t know, but, yeah, of course it’s fine.” Unable to stop himself from looking away for a moment, Henry shoots him a shy sideways smile. “To be honest, I didn’t think you’d understand me this well.” He finds his heart softening towards his beloved just that little bit more. I treasure you. The words are lodged unmoving in his throat.

In the meantime, Ryeowook goes quiet for a moment by his side, his expression slack in thought. “It’s like...” This time, his pause feels pensive. “I don’t like skinship from most people,” he continues in a level tone, nodding faintly. “Actually, I dislike it a lot. So I thought to myself that your situation is sort of like that...” Ironically enough, he idly plays with Henry’s fingers as he speaks. “Your feelings aren’t just a matter of not liking but not minding too much, right? You wouldn’t have been too scared to confess to me if it was like that. It’s disliking, or maybe hating, which means if it happens - if ual things happen, you would be really upset, right?” Head tilted to one side, Ryeowook looks thoughtfully at him. He seems to be waiting for confirmation.

“...Yeah, that’s right.” Situation is a funny word to use, but the effort is what counts here. Ryeowook's gaze turns sweet and sad, harmonizing with the barest upturned corner of his mouth.

“It’s okay to be different,” he says, his tone reassuring and sweet, gliding in the air. “I don’t want to make you upset about something so important to you when changing it doesn’t make much of a difference to me.”

“Hyung is too kind,” Henry manages to say just above a whisper, his throat suddenly gone nervous-dry, hoping his sincere gratitude shows through.

Finding whatever he was looking for in Henry’s expression, Ryeowook lets the last of the sadness fade gently away. Then he smirks. “I can take care of myself just fine,” he adds pointedly.

A snorting laugh escapes Henry’s mouth. Somehow, no matter how very not innocent Ryeowook is, Henry kinda can’t believe his boyfriend just joked about it like that.

“I bet you can,” he fires back, waggling his eyebrows. Then he kisses him. “Wait,” he suddenly realizes, physically pulling back. His hand keeps fiddling with one of Ryeowook’s buttons without his express permission. “Do I need to stop making dirty jokes?”

Ryeowook looks at once incredulous and amused. “I don’t need that,” he says, rolling his eyes and playfully thwapping Henry’s chest with the back of his hand. “I’m not going to misunderstand just because you’re funny.”

“You’re the best,” Henry murmurs, laughter leaking into his voice as well, before he moves in for another kiss.

-

Three days in Taipei means they have like five minutes to breathe and fit a cup of tea in. Sungmin takes the opportunity to tease them about being goopy, so Henry argues with him yet again that that’s not true, they are impeccably discreet in public, and he looked up the translations for those fancy words exactly for this purpose. Ryeowook just laughs and demonstrates his very appropriate affection, while Mi sighs and keeps starting a sentence but doesn’t push his way in to finish it.

If only they could stay like this all day...

When Mi does get his chance, though, he doesn’t hesitate. “We’re meeting for real sometime next month, right? Also,” he continues without waiting for an answer, “I know it’ll be a long time from now, but I wanted to talk about including Yesung-hyung when he returns,” he tells them with a considering frown. “I’m worried it’ll be difficult for him. He gets lonely easily.”

As he speaks, looking at the three of them evenly, it strikes Henry that Mi no longer gives him that occasional weird look, like, part wary, part pitying.

Though they'd of course been kind to him over the years, ever since Ryeowook made it known that the two of them were dating, many of the other members - the ones allowed to know, that is - had softened towards him the slightest bit, though he couldn't put his finger on it. If he had to guess, he might say that they were a touch more patient with him, not to mention the hunch he had that he was being seen as someone who shared a secret with them, or at least, that's what that particular curve of the lips and glint of the eye told him.

“It’s okay to try it once. Heechul-hyung will likely keep him from overrunning the conversation.” Sungmin then shrugs. “If it goes badly, we won’t invite him after that.”

Ryeowook chimes in next. “Of course he's my friend, but won't it be a bit... you know... awkward?” He raises his eyebrows as he speaks, tilting his head. His fingertips tap lightly on the small round table, standing out against the translucent frosted surface. Quiet taps, one after the other, pinky to index finger in order, two, three, four times.

“He's fine, you know he doesn't mind.” That statement leaves Ryeowook staring at Mi blankly. “You haven't told him?” Mi asks, his surprised face honestly funny.

Ryeowook responds defensively, arms crossing, “I was getting around to it!” Meanwhile, Sungmin sips his tea and wisely stays out of it. Henry follows his lead. The warmth feels nice on his hands.

“When, though?” Mi says. Wow, does he get right to the point.

Ryeowook looks unhappy. “I’ll get to it! Lay off!” He turns his head away and pouts like he’s being scolded. Reaching across the table, Mi squeezes his arm, smiling bigger than this conversation warrants.

“It’s fine,” Mi reassures him. Maybe all of them. “He knows about me and he's been-“ He drops the word 'cool' in English, awkwardly conjugating it into a verb in Korean, entirely unaware of how clunky it sounds, but that's just how he rolls. It comes off as ‘he was becoming cool,’ which is probably why Sungmin is snickering, but that’s Mi for you. His confidence imbues his bearing with a crisp, clean quality, but his cheerful nonchalance is what pulls it off.

Henry’s leg starts bouncing; Ryeowook drops his pouting to run his hand over Henry’s thigh and knee, deep pressure that signal him to stop but also feel pleasant. Wasn’t I gonna say something?

He loses his train of thought again when Ryeowook curses. “. I hate having to tell people. Coming out is so annoying!”

“Right!” Henry thwacks the table when he remembers, then grimaces. “Back when I stayed at the band's dorm, he tried to touch my face at night. Remember?” He looks around, receiving only resigned looks and a shrug. Inspired all of a sudden, shooting for this group's style of banter, he asks, the words tripping inelegantly off his tongue, “I need to know the truth. Are... Are straight people usually that weird?”

Now that gets a roar of laughter all around. Having delivered the joke with a wary tilt of his head and a skeptical narrowing of his eyes, he’s proud of himself for pulling off something new so well.

While still laughing, Mi claps his shoulder harder than strictly necessary. “No, that's only Yesung-hyung. He is...” Screwing up his face all of a sudden, he lets out another bark of laughter before he continues. “He is unique in this world.”

Ryeowook sighs contently, and even Sungmin is hiding an amused grin behind his hands. “Alright,” Ryeowook concedes, if a bit reluctantly, “if you say he was becoming cool,” he emphasizes with a cute little huff of mischievous laughter and a mock-haughty raise of his chin, poking fun at the odd phrasing, “I believe you.” He sits back and sighs again. “Really, I don't know how you find these things out about everyone.”

“I'm nice to them!” Mi answers, beaming his trademark wide, toothy smile. Without breaking from his neutrally pleasant tone, he adds, just as though he were remarking on the good weather they were having lately, “You should try it sometime.”

That. Was. Masterful.

As much as he’s enjoying this, Henry quickly moves to squeeze Ryeowook's hands in an attempt to ward off any not-strictly-verbal retaliation. He can’t help himself, going so far as to risk resting his head against the older's because god, he's just so damn happy.

Meanwhile, Sungmin somehow hurt his elbow laughing, and a good portion of Henry's remaining tea ended up splashed on the loud-patterned shirt that Mi changed into after rehearsal. Henry has a suspicion the two are related. After all, he knows he didn’t do it - no one here has any honor for him to defend, even if he were inclined to do so.

Tactical mistake: only worrying about the hands. Ryeowook guaranteed kicked Mi under the table just now. Jolted by the retaliation that brings, Henry finds he's better off letting go of a certain vindictive someone.

And whisking his mug off the table to relative safety.

At some point, though, they get it out of their system and settle down. Mi gripes about the mess, furiously wiping at the stain with napkins as the rest of them handle the table using the remainder of the pile. After Sungmin’s third apology, though, he gives up both on improving the condition of his shirt and being mad about it. He laments that he’ll have to leave their little corner earlier than he expected to get it cleaned.

Hardly a moment of quiet passes before Mi’s getting up, the chair legs scraping across the floor screeching harshly. “Ah, it’ll be so good to have Heechul-hyung back soon,” he says while he’s checking his pockets. “He’d be so proud to hear this youngster’s first straight people joke!”