Camp Echo, Mt. Desert Island, Maine

Taemin aged 9; Minho aged 11

—

"You can't hide in here all summer," Maggie said to Taemin. "I don't know where he is either. All I can tell you is that he's signed up. Kids change their minds at the last minute. It happens."

"But he hasn't answered my letters in three months! What if he died or something?" Taemin protested, tugging at the friendship bracelet Minho made him last year. "Or—Or... what if he hates me?"

"You know as well as I do that there isn't any part of that boy that doesn't absolutely adore you. If you're gonna talk nonsense, get out of here. Go on. The jamboree's gonna start soon anyway."

Dejected, Taemin exited the nurse's office, dragging his feet in the dirt as he solemnly made his way to the main hall, contemplating if it might be better to just head up to the cabin and hide in his bed for these four weeks. Before he could make his escape, he was bundled into a group of campers being escorted by the counselors. It would be too difficult to slip away now.

During the jamboree, he sat in his usual corner, leaving space between him and the wall for Minho. He didn't hear a single word the camp director said, his eyes too busy watching the door for any sign of Minho's arrival.

They broke for individual activities. Taemin elected to dig a hole in the ground with a stick. When it broke, he tossed rocks into the lake with all his force. They didn't make it very far. Despondent, he sat on a boulder bordering the water, drawing his knees to his chin as he sighed. A spider scampered across the rock, and Taemin sprinted away towards the camp, reverting to his original plan of just hiding in his cabin. If Minho wasn't here to protect him from the bugs, it was too risky to be outdoors.

He took a nap without meaning to, wrapped in a blanket Minho had left behind, and he awoke in the early evening to the sound of aggressive knocking on his door.

He threw himself out of his bed, the blanket trailing behind him like a superhero's cape as he sprinted across the small space to fling open the door.

"Min— Oh."

A new counselor this year—Taemin couldn't remember if her name was Suzy or Sally or Sadie—stood at the other side of the door.

"Howdy, camper!" she said too cheerily. "Our movie night is going to start soon in the main hall, and I've been sent to wrangle all the campers up. How 'bout you make your way down there now?"

"No thanks," Taemin answered. The counselor shoved her foot in the door, gesturing down the stairs to indicate it wasn't an option. With a groan, Taemin tightened the blanket around his shoulders and slid his flip flops on—a new pair his mom got him, but the same style as his old ones—and dragged himself towards the main hall.

There was popcorn, at least, and the blanket was big enough for Taemin to tug it over his head so no one could see him cry at the scary parts. This movie wasn't even meant to be scary, but Taemin didn't sit well in suspense, especially on his own. Eventually, he was so overwhelmed he hid his face entirely, which protected him from the startling scenes on the projector screen, but made it impossible to watch the door for Minho. He'd pretty much given up hope by now, anyway. Minho hated him, and Taemin's first and only friend was gone forever.

Underneath his blanket hood, he shoved a fistful of popcorn into his mouth, hoping the butter would coat his sad and aching heart. In the morning, he'd ask Maggie to call his mom, to pretend like he's so sick he has to go home. It wasn't entirely a lie. Wha