They first met at the school playground when they were 7. 

Donghae’s family just moved to the city and it was his first day at a brand new elementary school. Without his parents by his side, the brand new city feels all too foreign and scary for little Donghae to want to try and make new friends.

So when recess comes, he chomps down on the peanut butter toast his mum prepared for him that morning in a hurry so he can leave the canteen, and he’s about to return back to his classroom when the playground swing catches his eyes.

When he does sit on the swing though, that’s when he realises he’s never quite learned how to swing all by himself. He’s sulking, staring sullenly at his feet that’s hanging uselessly above the sandpit, and all of a sudden he’s swept away by a sense of longing and grief he’s too young to properly comprehend. Suddenly he misses his old home and his old school and his old friends, and suddenly he doesn’t want to be here anymore. 

He’s fighting the tears that’s threatening to spill from his eyes when he hears a soft voice from next to him.

“Hi, are you alright?” A little boy with pretty almond eyes asks, his eyes peeking curiously from the packet of strawberry milk he’s holding onto. 

Donghae stares at the stranger, not knowing what to say. He wishes he would go away so he could be left alone. Again, making friends isn’t really his forte, and Donghae is not in the mood for it. He merely sighs and kicks his legs petulantly. 

“Do you want me to push you?” The little boy asks, gesturing towards the swing he’s sitting on. 

Donghae thinks for a moment and nods gently. Swinging would be nice. The boy breaks into a soft smile, sets aside his milk packet and shifts to stand behind him. He pushes him gently, and Donghae finally feels like he’s moving away from the ground. 

When he reaches a certain height, the boy moves to hop onto the swing next to his, and Donghae can’t help but stare in awe as he watches him swing back and forth all by himself. He’s doing something with his legs that Donghae can’t quite understand, but wishes he could. The boy catches him watching him, and Donghae quickly averts his gaze and goes back to staring at the ground.

“Are you new? I’ve never seen you before,” the boy asks. 

“It’s my first day here,” he replies, not turning to look at him. He’s just realised his shoelaces have come undone. Ugh, if only he’d agreed to learn how to tie his shoelaces when his dad offered to teach him yesterday. 

“What’s your name? I’m Hyukjae,” the boy introduces himself.

“I’m Donghae,” he offers in return. Hyukjae. He hopes he remembers this name, so he can repeat it to his parents if and when they ask about his new friends at school. 

“Nice to meet you, Donghae,” Hyukjae says, still swinging. “Your shoelaces came off, by the way.” He points at Donghae’s shoes with one hand, the other gripping tightly onto the swing’s metal chain.

Donghae shrugs. “I know.” The momentum’s died down, and his swing is slowing to a halt. That is doubly embarrassing for him. 

“Are you not going to tie them? What if you fall later?” Hyukjae asks as he whizzes past him, still swinging. 

Donghae fights a pout as he mumbles, “I would if I could…”

It’s barely audible given the volume he’s said it at, but Hyukjae catches it nevertheless, and the next thing Donghae knows, Hyukjae’s jumping off the swing and kneeling before him. 

He’s holding onto Donghae’s ankles as he asks excitedly, “Can I tie them for you? I just learned how to do it this morning.” 

Donghae doesn’t think it’s courteous to say no when his new friend already has his knees in the sand, and moreover he likes the glint in his friend’s eyes, so he nods, and stares as his friend ties a pretty butterfly knot with his laces. 

He says thanks, Hyukjae looks up and smiles at him, and Donghae finds himself smiling back. He thinks it’s the first time he’s smiled that day. 

Then the school bell rings, so Hyukjae gets up and pats the sand off his knees before he offers a hand to help Donghae off the swing. Donghae thinks he can manage getting off a swing by himself, but takes his hand nevertheless.

Donghae swallows nervously as he watches Hyukjae discard his milk packet, desperate to muster up the courage to ask Hyukjae something before they leave the playground.

He takes in a deep breath.

“Can you teach me how to swing tomorrow?” He hears himself asking as he twiddles with his thumbs.

Hyukjae turns to look at him, then he breaks into a smile and nods. “Of course! See you tomorrow!”

They wave each other goodbye and go back to their own classes, a skip in their steps. 

That evening Donghae’s parents ask about his first day at school, and he shares about his new friend proudly. His dad pats his head affectionately and his mum pinches his cheeks, obviously relieved that he’s found himself a new friend in an unfamiliar environment. The joy in Donghae’s eyes is unmistakeable, and that dinner marks the first of many times their family will be hearing about Hyukjae at the dining table. 

—

The next day Donghae heads over to the playground in trepidation. For some reason, he’s worried Hyukjae would have forgotten about promising to meet him. What if Hyukjae doesn’t show up? Should he just sit alone at the swing? 

But all his fears are proven to be unfounded when he steps into the area and sees Hyukjae already there.

“Hi Donghae!” Hyukjae calls out to him as he waves his hand. He’s sitting at a table next to the swings, his lunchbox in front of him. 

Donghae waves back and makes his way over, his steps already lighter. 

“We should eat first before I teach you. I don’t want to be hungry in Math class later,” Hyukjae says, opening his lunchbox and pulling out a sandwich. 

Donghae sits down across him, and agrees to the plan. He didn’t like being hungry either, and especially not during Math class.

So they sit and talk about their food, and Hyukjae tells him a tale about his scary Math teacher and how she’d throw their workbooks at them if they’d gotten a simple question wrong. Donghae thinks Hyukjae is a wonderful storyteller, because he’s hanging on to his every word. 

Then Hyukjae does teach Donghae how to swing, and Donghae does manage to swing by himself after that, so Donghae thinks to himself: wow, Hyukjae must also be a good teacher. 

When the bell rings that day, Donghae’s faced with a new problem. He’d asked Hyukjae to teach him how to swing yesterday, and Hyukjae had agreed to it, which explains how they ended up spending their recess together today. But what about tomorrow? 

Donghae’s already mastered how to swing, but that doesn’t mean he wants to stop seeing Hyukjae at recess.

He’s trying to think of what he could suggest for Hyukjae to teach him the next day, when Hyukjae bends down to tie his laces that have somehow managed to come undone again. 

Shoelaces! He opens his mouth to ask, but Hyukjae beats him to it. “Do you want me to teach you how to tie your laces tomorrow?” 

He nods, a wide smile on his face and a light in his eyes, and Hyukjae grins back. 

—

The next day he does learn how to tie his shoelaces. But he do