For some time now, a sense of frustration and irritation invaded him every time he met with his group mates. He struggled to follow them, he struggled to keep up, moreover, he struggled to feel that he was one of them. No one had thought of making the slightest effort to help him fit in.

With the tallest, Choi Seung-hyun, he didn't speak much. Sometimes, however, he caught him staring straight at him, eyes wide open and eyebrows moving up and down above his eyes in a way that scared him a little. With Daesung he had exchanged a few more words  - out of the four, he was the one he found most friendly - but he had not yet managed to keep a conversation going for more than a few minutes. Moreover, the first time they met he had mistaken him for an orderly and ordered him a bottle of water. Taeyang, then, approached him only to give him some essential information: here's a sandwich left for you, here's the part you have to sing, today we'll try to record it. With all of them, then, Seungri felt that they feared to approach him somehow, and the reason soon became clear to him.

The last member of the group was also the leader and, coincidentally, he seemed not to have even noticed Seungri's existence. He was a thin, bony boy, all over the place except his cheeks, which turned round and soft when he smiled. When he showed his face in profile, though, his jawline was sharp and vulnerable. And he had those intense, determined eyes, and a big white smile that could shine like a spring miracle when someone made him laugh. He never smiled at Seungri not even once.

Still, something about him fascinated him so much that Seungri couldn't stop studying him. He kept staring at Jiyong from behind his glasses, he was never tired of following his every move. At times, with Taeyang and with Seung-hyun in particular, Jiyong acted like a little street bully, pulling his hat over his head so as to show only his mouth and chin. At other times - when he danced for example - he moved as if his path was already marked and his future of star was already within his reach. Then he looked even smaller in the too baggy clothes he wore. At other times, he moved as if his path was already marked and his future of star was already within his reach.

Seungri observed all of them with skewed glances that had become his habit - he couldn't hold their gazes - but in particular he followed the moves of that little multi-faced leader, who was now serious as a child king, now he laughed and a thousand butterflies rose around him like an explosion of sparks.

Seungri had not yet admitted it to himself, but if he could have chosen, he would have wanted to be exactly like him.

---

"I would slightly change the beginning of the song." Jiyong was saying. They had been recording music all the day, but the boy seemed not to be satisfied yet. "It's not exactly catchy. It sounds weak. I'm afraid it's the type of beginning that makes you think: I'll skip this song, it doesn't look that great."

Seungri kept staring at his lips as he spoke. He had this mouth, with sensual lips that had exactly the shape of his mood. They curled down when he got angry or annoyed, they were straight as spindled or bitten by the teeth when he concentrated, and very quick to bend into a lovely smile when he melted and let himself go, or shyness caught his cheeks. Then a wide vein of tenderness opened in him that had remained hidden until that moment.

That tenderness was the enigma. Seungri had peeked at him, frightened and enchanted, but still h