1.

“Is this from you?” Donghae shoved a note at Hyukjae, trying not to laugh. “I didn’t know you wrote poetry.”

Hyukjae blinked down at the paper, careful not to drop his entire stack of books.

╭─────♡♡♡─────╮

The you who lights up the room
Like a sunflower with its bright yellow wings
Your smile, the sun after a storm
Oh, how you make my heart sing

╰─────♡♡♡─────╯

“What, is this a love letter?” he asked and Donghae shrugged.

“I didn’t know you thought of me like that,” he teased, bumping Hyukjae’s shoulder as they strolled along the hallway.

“Are you tripping?” Hyukjae laughed. “That’s not even my handwriting. Where did you get this?”

“In my locker.” Donghae dodged a group of freshmen heading his way, slinging his arm over Hyukjae’s shoulder. “I saw it under my textbook.”

“Under?” Hyukjae repeated, sounding utterly boggled.

Donghae hummed as they headed down towards their class. The note was quickly forgotten, the thoughts taken over by quadratic formulas and statistics. Donghae tucked the note away in his math folder and did not think of it again.

Until he yanked open his locker one morning when he was running late, and a piece of paper came fluttering out. Donghae did not have time to pay it much attention when he picked it up, haphazardly shoving it into his pocket to look at later. He was still late to his class, panting like a dog when he slunk into the back of the class and flopped into the seat that Hyukjae had saved for him.

Typical of Donghae, he did not think of the note until he was fumbling for his wallet to pay for food. It fell out, and he nearly stepped on it before Hyukjae rescued it, flattening the now crinkled paper.

“Oh, you got another one,” Hyukjae said as Donghae shoved his wallet back into his pocket, picking up his lunch tray. “This person’s pretty good.”

Donghae took it back once they had settled at their customary table, spreading it out so that the words read clearly.

╭─────♡♡♡─────╮

The you whose eyes shine,
Like the stars on a clear night, oh, what a sight.
You’re like a rose without its thorns
So fair, so strong

╰─────♡♡♡─────╯

The words were small and neat, written on pretty stationery paper. Whoever had written it had clearly given a lot of thought to every . Donghae’s heart fluttered, and he folded it up when Hyukjae tried to get a better look at it, tucking it into his wallet.

“Who do you think it’s from?” Hyukjae asked, smirking at the red that tinted the tips of Donghae’s ears.

Donghae shrugged, busying himself with the kimbap on his plate. He took a big bite, so that he would not have to answer.

“Okay, rephrase. Who do you want it to be from?” Hyukjae teased, nudging Donghae hard as a tray was set down opposite them.

“Why is Hae blushing?” Jungsoo asked. His eyebrows were raised as he picked up a bite of kimchi.

“He’s got a secret admirer,” Hyukjae blurted and Donghae elbowed him hard. “Ow!”

Jungsoo’s eyebrows climbed even higher, and he leaned forward, fixing Donghae with a pointed look.

“I’ve been getting notes,” Donghae admitted after a long beat of silence. He did not want to pull the note out again; somehow it felt too personal to show, but Jungsoo was still staring expectantly.

“You should be focusing on your studies,” Jungsoo said after reading the little poem scribbled on the paper. He handed it back, brows knitting into a frown. “How was your test?”

Donghae should have known that Jungsoo would be no help. He was always so academically driven that Donghae did not know if he had ever let himself think of falling in love. Donghae wanted something like he had read in stories. Long walks by the beach watching the sunset, talking till midnight with someone who felt as if they shared the same soul. Hyukjae would if he knew.

“You know maybe we could ask the boy who works in the office,” Hyukjae suggested when Donghae opened his locker to find yet another poem. There were five now. He had gotten the rest progressively over the past two weeks and they made his heart flutter like a newborn butterfly each time he reread them.

“The freshman?” Donghae asked, slamming his locker shut.

“Yeah. I think his name is Ryeowook. He knows all of our locker combinations. If anyone has asked him for yours, he would know.”

Donghae knew Ryeowook. He had seen him around, always carrying a huge stack of textbooks that made him look smaller than he already did. But the only interaction he had with him was scaring off the bullies who had been picking on him because of his size. Ryeowook was a little pudgy and wore glasses that made him look a little bug eyed. People were cruel and Donghae would not stand for cruelty.

“I didn’t know he worked for the office,” he said, shouldering his bag.

“He’s been there a while,” Hyukjae said. “I think he spends his lunches there too.”

The bell on the door tinkled when they pushed it open, and a dark head popped out from behind the desk.

“Hey Ryeowook,” Hyukjae said, and Ryeowook blinked, his eyes owlish behind the large frames of his glasses.

“Hello,” he said slowly. His gaze flitted over Donghae and he bowed quickly. “Sunbaenim.”

“You’ve worked here a while, haven’t you?” Hyukjae asked, getting right to the point. He set a hand on the counter, leaning over and Donghae saw the way Ryeowook flinched. He tugged Hyukjae back just a little, so that he would look less imposing.

“Yes, sunbaenim,” Ryeowook said obediently. “Can I help you with anything?”

He reminded Donghae of a puppy, so eager to help.

“Has anyone asked you for Donghae’s locker combination before?” Hyukjae asked and Ryeowook blinked rapidly, looking confused.

“Not that I know of,” he answered.

“You don’t know, or you won’t tell?” Hyukjae asked, his tone teasing. At that, Ryeowook laughed. It was a sweet and happy sound, ringing in the office.

“To my memory, no one has ever asked for Donghae sunbae’s locker combination. There have been requests for others, but not his.”

“Ah.” Hyukjae sounded disappointed and Donghae even more so. He had thought that Ryeowook held the key, but it seemed like they were back to square one.

“Thanks anyway,” he said and Ryeowook nodded furiously, his eyes fixed on the table all of a sudden.

“I’m happy to help, sunbaenim.”

“Let us know if anyone comes to you, okay?” Hyukjae said. “We’re trying to solve a mystery.”

Ryeowook’s smile was small as he bowed his head, and Donghae could not help but notice how he twisted his fingers into the hem of his school shirt, as if he was nervous.

“Of course.”

The notes still came after, though more sporadically. They were still as sweet as ever and Donghae tucked them all into his favourite book back home, to keep them from yellowing and crinkling. He dug around a little more with Hyukjae, hanging around the hallways a little longer and in early mornings to try and catch the person but with no luck. He did notice Ryeowook a little more though, with his heavy books and the tiny smile he had for Donghae. Whenever Donghae waved, he seemed to brighten up, like a sunflower would when exposed to sun. It was frankly quite adorable.

Donghae did notice however, the whispers that started whenever he waved at Ryeowook across the hall. The group of popular jocks sniggered and elbowed each other when Ryeowook passed, though they did nothing where Donghae could see.

He thought he had put an end to the bullying the last time, so it was a complete accident that he stumbled upon them in an empty stairwell, leering. Ryeowook was backed up into a corner, his books spilled all over the floor and he had a bruise on his cheek, as if someone had hit him.

Donghae saw red.

Without thinking, he lunged at the boy had been ready to swing, their laughter ringing in his ears. The boy yelped when Donghae hit him, staggering back and Donghae grabbed him by the hair, yanking him away from Ryeowook.

“What did I tell you about picking on people?” Donghae snarled, barely holding himself back from punching the boy’s teeth out. He recognized him, a freshman who was big for his age and swaggered around like a demented emperor penguin.

He swung around to face the rest of the group, who looked like they might fight back. If they did, Donghae would not stand a chance. He reached into his pocket discreetly as he let go of the boy and pressed speed dial ‘1’.

If they did try to fight him, he wanted Jungsoo hyung hear him and report it.

The boys seemed to know too, that they outnumbered him, and were less afraid than they should be about fighting their senior. Donghae ducked when the first boy swung, yelping when a fist collided with his chest.

The rest of the fight blurred together. Donghae ducked and lunged, careful to keep their attention focused on him and not on Ryeowook. Ryeowook did not seem to have moved from his spot, though Donghae caught snatches of hurried conversation and his tiny footsteps.

 The door to the stairwell swung open with an awful grating sound and footsteps hurried down the steps. Donghae’s heart swelled with relief when his eyes fell on Ryeowook’s face peering down at him before he shoved another boy away.

The boys scattered, sprinting down the stairs as Jungsoo came running, Hyukjae in tow.

“You, okay?” Donghae asked when Jungsoo picked him up from the floor, his eyes fixed on Ryeowook.

Ryeowook nodded, his eyes on the floor.

“Yes, sunbaenim.”

“You have a black eye,” Jungsoo scolded and Donghae yelped when a finger pressed against his brow bone. “You couldn’t duck?”

“You should see them,” Donghae choked out, wincing when Jungsoo ruffled his hair. He turned his attention back to Ryeowook, who was slowly picking up his things with Hyukjae’s help. “Ya, Ryeowook, let me see your bruise.”

Ryeowook flinched and backed away immediately when Donghae reached for his arm and Donghae dropped it at once.

“It’s nothing, sunbaenim.”

“I just got beat up for you, I think you can call me hyung,” Donghae said, trying for teasing and it got a shaky laugh out of Ryeowook.

“Thank you, Donghae– hyung,” he said, picking his backpack up.

“Do they bother you often?” Jungsoo cut in, frowning. “Those boys.”

Ryeowook looked away, squeezing his books to his chest.

“I’m going to report this,” Jungsoo muttered and Ryeowook’s eyes went wide.

“Sunbaenim–,” he started and Jungsoo fixed him with a glare.

“Bullying is not tolerated in this school.”

Ryeowook wilted like a sad flower, worrying his bottom lip as Jungsoo hurried up the stairs, the sound of the door closing echoing in the stairwell.

“We should head out.” Hyukjae tugged on Donghae’s arm. “Training’s going to start soon.”

Donghae looked at Ryeowook one last time, patting Ryeowook’s shoulder.

“If they bother you again, come look for me, okay?” he said, smiling. “I’ll beat them up.”

“Don’t let your hyung hear you say that,” Hyukjae cautioned, smirking even as he led Donghae away.

Donghae did not hold high hopes of finding out who this secret admirer was until Hyukjae came into class one day, in incredibly high spirits. He slapped his file down on the table and sat down, grinning as if he had won the lottery.

“I figured out who it is,” he said and Donghae was immediately intrigued.

“Who?”

Because Hyukjae was Hyukjae, he immediately launched into a long explanation.

“Whoever did it has to know your combination, because the notes are always tucked under your books. They can’t have slipped it through the vents. So, they’d have to ask the office.”

“But Ryeowook said no one asked for it,” Donghae said, confused with where Hyukjae was going with this trajectory.

“They don’t have to ask if they already know it.” Hyukjae clicked his tongue, smirking and Donghae blinked.

“You think Ryeowook’s the one slipping love notes into my locker?”

“Yes! Think about it, it all makes sense. He’s not lying when he says no one’s asked him, because he doesn’t have to ask! And he’s always shy and blushing around you. Have you not noticed how he doesn’t meet your eyes?”

“No,” Donghae murmured. It did seem plausible to him now that Hyukjae had said it out loud. But he could not imagine Ryeowook, shy little Ryeowook slipping poetry into his locker. Good poetry too. If Ryeowook was the one writing the notes, he should be a songwriter when he graduated. Donghae had been trying to fit all the little bits of poetry into a song, and it all slotted together perfectly, as if the writer had planned for them to.

“C’mon, you have to ask him!” Hyukjae said.

“Ask him?” Donghae’s eyes widened.

“Write him back! He’ll see it when he opens your locker to leave a note. Say you’ll meet him somewhere or something.”

“But I don’t–.” Donghae faltered. He had no idea how he felt about Ryeowook possibly being his secret admirer.

“You don’t have to like him,” Hyukjae reasoned. “Just say that you want to know who they are.”

“What if they say no?”

“Tell them you want to show them the song you made,” Hyukjae said, and Donghae went red. “It’s really good, Hae ah.”

He tapped his pencil on the table, looking thoughtful.

“You could be friends, even if you don’t like them back.”

“That’s true.” Donghae sat up as the teacher came in the door. He should really have been paying attention, but he pulled out a sheet of notebook paper instead.

╭─────♡♡♡─────╮

Come to the bleachers at five thirty tomorrow,

╰─────♡♡♡─────╯

The note was just sitting there, a plain piece of blue-lined notebook paper and it stopped him in his tracks. He needed to be quick, as the first bell was about to go and he did not want to be caught. But Ryeowook never expected an answer to his notes. They were simply little guilty pleasures of his, to get the thoughts out of his head.

Hesitantly, he took the paper, tucking it into his pocket before shutting the locker door. His mind stayed on the note burning a hole in his pants the entire day and he hardly dared to look at it. Not even when he was sitting alone in the office.

He tucked it between the pages of his sketchbook, and when he pulled it out at night, the edges were smudged with graphite. Carefully, Ryeowook unfolded it, his heart thumping like a wild horse in his ears.

It could say anything. Perhaps Donghae hated the notes and wanted him to stop littering his locker with them. Or, Ryeowook thought with a chill, he could have found out who was the writer behind the notes and wanted him to stop because of that.

His hands shook as he spread out the note, the paper so thin that the blue ink had bled through to the other side.

╭─────♡♡♡─────╮

Come to the bleachers at five thirty tomorrow,
I’ve written a song with all your little notes
Maybe, if you sing, I’ll follow

╰─────♡♡♡─────╯

A song. Donghae had written him a song from his little poems. Ryeowook hugged the note to his chest, unable to stop the smile from spreading over his face. He flopped down onto his bed, basking in the sheer joy that flooded through his veins like the tide washing over the shores. It was as if someone had set off fireworks in his bloodstream; he was fizzling with excitement.

He could barely sleep that night, instead settling at his desk to write another poem. As a bold move, he sprayed it with his cologne, tucking it into his sketchbook.

Ryeowook was jittery all day, bouncing his knee in class until his seat mate turned to give him a dirty look. Then he stopped, opting to get out his nervous energy by scribbling in his sketchbook. The day had never felt so long before, every hour and every minute stretching until it felt like forever.

He did not quite run when the bell went off, but it was a very close thing. Trying to pretend his heart was not threatening to jump out of his chest while walking was perhaps the hardest thing he had ever done. With every step, he wondered if Donghae would be disappointed, or if, perhaps he already knew.

The hands on his watch showed ten minutes to five thirty when he walked out onto the field. There a drummer banging around inside his stomach as he climbed up onto the bleachers, settling down to wait.

And wait.

Fall was already taking over from summer, the leaves turning from green to a fiery red and the breeze had a bite to it. Ryeowook regretted not bringing a sweater with him as he sat there, alone on the empty field. He rubbed his hands together, blowing on them to warm them up before checking his watch.

It was now five minutes past five-thirty. Perhaps Donghae got held up in class?

Ryeowook wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. The sun always started setting so early in the later months of the year. He could see the rays of the sun peeking over the trees that bordered the school compound, casting long shadows on the field from where he sat.

Ten minutes past five thirty.

The sunlight was turning golden, staining the fiery leaves and casting a lovely glow over the field. Ryeowook blew out a breath, tucking his hands into his pockets. There was still no sign of anyone.

Perhaps Donghae had been held up longer in class. Ryeowook hunched over, like a squirrel nibbling on a nut and decided to wait a little longer.

He was far too cold to take out his sketchbook to pass time. Now every dragging minute made his heart sink deeper into the pit of his stomach.

Had the note been a joke? Had it been Donghae’s intent to just leave him hanging? Perhaps it was just a prank.

Ryeowook did not think Donghae was capable of such cruelty, but he would not put it past some of the members on his football team to put him up to it.

Swallowing hard, he pulled out his poem. He hoped he was wrong, that all the bad thoughts were just a result of the relentless insecurity that plagued him. But it was nearly an hour past now and still no sign of Donghae.

Getting up made his knees ache; he had been sitting too long in the cold. Ryeowook set the note down on the bleacher bench, rummaging in his bag for the new paperweight he had brought to leave on his table in the office and forgotten in his haste.

If Donghae did come, he would see it. Or whoever saw it would clear it off. Ryeowook did not care. He was past caring now, it was too cold to be sitting outside.

Disappointment was a ball of rock sitting in his chest as he walked off the field, his shoes crunching the dried grass under his feet. Though there was no one around to see him, Ryeowook’s cheeks felt hot as he dragged himself out of school, feeling as if he had been hollowed out inside with an ice cream scoop.

He had to pretend that nothing had happened, and that hurt more, feeling like someone had reached into his chest and stuck razors into the sensitive flesh.  Ryeowook was still aching inside when Park Jungsoo cornered him one day in an empty stairwell.

“Are you the one giving Donghae those notes?” he asked and Ryeowook’s blood turned to ice. He hugged his books to his chest like a shield, bracing himself.

“Look, I don’t know if you are, but if it really is you, you need to stop,” Jungsoo said, his brows furrowed. “It’s distracting him. He needs to graduate with good grades to get to a good university. Do you understand?”

He never gave Ryeowook a chance to answer before he vanished, his footsteps a ringing echo in the distance.

Ryeowook put all the remaining notes he had written into a box and put them away, determined forget everything that had ever happened.

╭─────♡♡♡─────╮

The you who wrote me a song
Won’t you wrap roses around my barbed wire?
Grow butterflies in my very core
The you who is the sun
What is it that you desire?
Because for you I would come undone.

╰─────♡♡♡─────╯

It was just Donghae’s bad luck. Of course, he would manage to get detention the one day he could not afford to get detention. He watched the clock whole way, tapping his foot impatiently. His lines were practically just chicken scratch with how quickly he wrote them.  The moment the bell went off, Donghae lurched out of his seat, not even waiting for the teacher to dismiss them. He was sure to get another detention to follow, but he did not care.

His guitar was heavy, bumping into his hip with every step he took because of the awkward angle.

The autumn wind was crisp and sharp when he swung open the heavy metal door leading to the bleachers, and he looked around frantically. His hair was mussed as if he had run a marathon and perhaps he had, sprinting out of detention like his life depended on it.

But the bleachers were empty.

Donghae’s heart dropped like a stone to the bottom of his stomach as he climbed up and the guitar on his shoulder suddenly felt like it weighed a million pounds. He sat down hard, cursing himself. It was already an hour past the agreed time. He should not be surprised that whoever it was had gone home.

Donghae glanced down the length of the bleachers and his heart leapt, a flare of hope lighting in his chest. A single small sheet of paper sat further down the bench he was seated on, held in place by a painted paperweight in the shape of a bird. Donghae hurried over, the stone heavy in his hand when he lifted it.

He unfolded the paper and caught a whiff of unfamiliar cologne. The guilt crushed his lungs to pulp. It was another poem, this one more lovely than any of the others. Donghae itched to sit down and put the words to melody at once. And so he did, even if the writer would never hear it.

For after that poem left on the bleachers, Donghae never received any more.

Hyukjae was utterly baffled; he was so convinced that it was Ryeowook. But Ryeowook never acted any differently around them. He was still his usual shy self, though Donghae ran into him less now.

It was completely by chance that Donghae found him waiting by the empty bus stop. He had been hanging around, waiting to get a ride together with Jungsoo hyung when he spotted the small figure standing close to the field.

“Ryeowook!” he called, jogging over and Ryeowook looked up, startled.

“Donghae hyung.”

“Are you waiting for the bus?” Donghae asked, feeling stupid the moment the words left his mouth. Why else would Ryeowook be hanging around the bus stop? The corner of Ryeowook’s mouth ticked up and he hugged his books closer.

“Yeah,” he said. “You?”

Donghae gestured towards the field.

“Jungsoo hyung.”

Ryeowook ahhed and then looked back down at the dirt.

“What are you thinking of studying in university when you graduate?” Donghae asked after an awkward pause.

“Songwriting,” came the answer and Donghae’s heart leapt.

“Are you good at lyrics? Or composing?”

“I’m not good at anything,” Ryeowook admitted. “But I can get better.”

“Ah. I like composing,” Donghae said and Ryeowook looked up, his expression a little wistful.

“I know.”

“You know?” Donghae grasped onto the line thrown at him, however thin. He did not know when he had started hoping this admirer would be Ryeowook. “How do you know?”

“Hyukjae hyung talks about it sometimes when he comes into the office,” Ryeowook answered. “He likes to brag about how good you are.”

“Hyukjae goes to the office to look for you?”

“He’s clumsy,” Ryeowook said, amused. “He always shows up looking for the nurse.”

The little candle flame of hope in Donghae’s chest flickered and went out. Ryeowook glanced at him, shifting his books.

“You two are cute together.”

Donghae’s mouth dropped open.

“Wait, we’re not–.”

“Hae ah!” Jungsoo’s call cut him off and Donghae turned to see Jungsoo running towards him. Jungsoo’s brows furrowed when he noticed Ryeowook and Ryeowook inched back a little, as if he was afraid of Jungsoo. “You good to go?”

“Yeah. Ryeowook, do you need a ride?” Donghae asked and Ryeowook shook his head so hard his glasses slid down his nose bridge.

“I can wait for the bus,” he said, without looking at Donghae.

“O–okay,” Donghae answered, unsure of why he felt so dejected. But there was no time to dwell on it. He never got a single note from the secret admirer again, for the rest of the years in school and he would have forgotten about it, if it had not become one of Hyukjae’s favourite stories to tell.

He swore up and down that it was Ryeowook, that it had to be. And that it was the reason why Donghae had not dated anyone seriously at all.

 

2.

“Because he’s still looking for the person who wrote those notes,” Hyukjae cackled as he swigged his beer.

Donghae smacked him, taking a sip from his cider before turning to Donghee.

“That’s not true,” he protested. “I just haven’t found anyone I like enough.”

“Ah, you will,” Donghee said, chuckling when Hyukjae leaned into him, obviously tipsy. “You’re in university. You’ll find someone.”

Donghae hoped he was right. He spent too much time on his own in his room, composing songs but the one song he could never pick up again was the song he started in high school. It was incomplete, missing its final verse because there were no more poems to complete it. Donghae had tried writing his own lyrics, but he could never get them quite right.

When he looked at the notes, which did not escape the fate of yellowing despite his best efforts, he was reminded of Ryeowook sometimes. He wondered what he was doing now, and regretted never asking for his number before he graduated.

But Fate had a funny way of pulling strings and Donghae was hurrying down the hallway of his dorm, in a rush because he was late to meet Hyukjae. Again. He had gotten caught up in his composing and forgotten the time.

Lost in his own thoughts, he slammed straight into another student holding a pile of books. The books hit the floor with a loud bang, spilling papers all over.

“I’m so sorry!” Donghae gasped, bending to grab the first few sheets that he saw. He looked up to hand them over and froze.

“Donghae hyung?” That voice. And those eyes.

“Ryeowook?” Donghae could hardly believe it.

It was Ryeowook, except that his hair was dyed a soft golden blonde now. He had lost his glasses and some weight. With the sun shining in from the window, he was almost too dazzling to look at.

Donghae did not even realised he was staring until Ryeowook blushed and began picking up his papers.

“You look– wow,” Donghae said, wide eyed as he helped Ryeowook gather the rest of the books and papers he had knocked over. “So different. It’s a good different.”

“Thanks.” Ryeowook’s fingers brushed against his when he handed him the last set of papers and Donghae swore he felt a jolt of electricity. “Hyung looks good too.”

“I didn’t know you go here,” Donghae said, unsure why he did not want to let Ryeowook go quite yet.

“I just got transferred,” Ryeowook explained. “Things didn’t go so well at my last uni. I’m hoping to get a new start.”

He smiled, hugging his books to his chest.

“It’s good to see you, hyung.”

“Yeah,” Donghae breathed, still unable to tear his eyes away.

“Yah, Lee Donghae!” The call snapped Donghae out of his daze and he looked towards the end of the hallway to see Hyukjae glaring at him, with Donghee looming behind him.

“Sorry, I– have to go,” Donghae fumbled and Ryeowook shrugged.

“See you around, hyung!” he said lightly and was gone before Donghae could say anything else. Donghae could not identify the jumble of emotions that had tangled up into a ball inside his chest, hope and delight mingled all together.

“Was that Ryeowook?” Hyukjae asked when he had gotten to him.

Donghae nodded dumbly, still shell-shocked. Hyukjae whistled, nudging him hard.

“He glowed up,” he said and Donghae had to agree.

He saw Ryeowook again later that week; they shared the same lecture. But Ryeowook was too quick and always gone before Donghae could catch him for a conversation.

As the weeks passed, Donghae was drawn fully into his own schedule and became far too busy to think of Ryeowook at all. His assignments were piling up and he hardly had any time to breathe. It had grown so bad that even Jungsoo commented on it, saying that he needed a break when he visited.

“You know if Soo is asking you to take a break, it’s bad,” Heechul said, patting Donghae’s back. He was Jungsoo’s boyfriend, a complete and utter surprise to Donghae. Donghae had always thought his hyung was too career driven to date, but clearly, he was wrong. Heechul had forcibly yanked Jungsoo out of his shell, and that alone was enough reason for Donghae to like him.

“Mn,” Donghae hummed, setting his pen down. “Hyukjae mentioned a party tonight.”

“Go,” Heechul advised, the gleam in his eyes turning wicked. “I won’t tell your hyung.”

Donghae was not so interested in watching Hyukjae and Donghee make out at a party, but he figured that it would do him some good. He could use some fresh air, even if said fresh air was going to a college party.

The music was already pounding, sending vibrations straight through Donghae’s bones when they got out of the car. He was sure the bass would give him a headache before the night was over, but Hyukjae was so excited that Donghae was finally coming out of his cave that he could not bear to ruin his night. He was just heading into the kitchen get some drinks when he ran straight into the last person he expected to see.

“Ryeowook.” Donghae stopped in surprise. “I didn’t think I’d see you here. It doesn’t seem like your kind of scene.”

Ryeowook’s lips quirked and he must be wearing some sort of lip gloss, as the lights reflected off them. His hair was styled, fluffy over his forehead and he reminded Donghae starkly of a golden retriever.

“It’s not,” Ryeowook said. “My roommate dragged me here. He said it would do me some good.”

He pointed into the crush of bodies that were undulating on the makeshift dance floor.

“He’s out there somewhere dancing. Did you want a drink?”

Donghae did not know how he procured his red party cup of beer, or how many he had. Ryeowook had vanished after taking him to the kitchen, saying something about looking for his roommate and Donghae was utterly baffled by the surge of jealousy that battered like waves against his ribs. Hyukjae found him in the game room, playing a very aggressive game of beer pong, drunk off his .

He was cursing and swearing as he lugged Donghae out of the mess and into the foyer.

“You’re a dumb ,” he said and Donghae opened one eye.

“Am not,” he slurred before closing his eyes again.

“Hyukjae hyung?” Ryeowook seemed to have an uncanny ability of appearing when they least expected him to. He was leaning against the doorway, a plastic cup in hand. His cheeks were a little flushed, but he did not look drunk as he crossed the room. “Do you need help?”

“Yes,” Hyukjae grunted, heaving Donghae up against his shoulder. “Can you take care of this guy? Donghee wants to stay longer, and I don’t want to leave quite yet.”

He shoved Donghae at Ryeowook and Ryeowook yelped, barely catching him in time.

“His phone’s password is XXXX!” Hyukjae yelled behind his back as he disappeared back into the throng of bodies. “And Jungsoo hyung’s number is on speed dial!”

Ryeowook sighed to himself, carefully navigating Donghae against his shoulder. Donghae was not much taller than he was, but he was deadweight against him, making it harder to wrestle him out onto the street. There was no way that Ryeowook could drive them both; he had a few drinks himself. He sat down carefully, with Donghae leaning against himself and revelled for a long moment in the joy of having his crush so close.

It was nearing mid fall and the weather was chilly, the air crisp and sharp when he inhaled, a soft breeze ruffling Donghae’s hair. Unconsciously, Ryeowook brushed a lock of hair away from Donghae’s cheek, tucking it behind his ear. Perhaps it was mildly creepy, but Donghae was not awake at all. In fact, he seemed to be dead asleep, even though he was seated in a rather uncomfortable position. Ryeowook shook him gently and promptly gave up when he realised that Donghae was too drunk to notice.

He pulled Donghae’s phone from his pocket and pressed ‘1’ with bated breath. Donghae’s hyung was utterly terrifying and the reason why he had stopped the letters. Ryeowook had no idea how he had found out about the notes, but he harboured no delusions that Donghae would ever look at him the way he wanted to be looked at. So, he listened, and stayed away. It was not hard anyway, when he had his own problems to deal with. Donghae was like the mist over the mountains, impossible to capture and he was never Ryeowook’s to begin with.

“Donghae, there better be a good reason why you’re waking me up at one am in the morning.” Jungsoo’s voice sounded out from the speakers, rough and irritated.

“I’m not Donghae,” Ryeowook said, swallowing hard. “This is Ryeowook. Donghae’s drunk.”

“What? Where is he?” There was rustling on the other end and a low groan of protest before Ryeowook heard the thuds of footsteps on floorboards.

He rattled off the address and Jungsoo cursed softly.

“Who else went with him?” he asked, and keys jingled in the background.

“Hyukjae hyung and his boyfriend,” Ryeowook answered helpfully. “But they didn’t want to leave yet. And I’ve had a few drinks.”

“Right. I’m coming to get him. Just– just keep him safe, okay?”

Jungsoo got there surprisingly quickly. He was still dressed in sweatpants when he exited the car, the car’s headlights nearly blinding Ryeowook as he struggled to stand with Donghae’s weight.

“Jesus,” Jungsoo muttered as he reached over to pulled Donghae off. “How much did he drink?”

“I don’t know,” Ryeowook said. “I saw him playing beer pong at some point.”

Jungsoo snorted at this, shaking his head.

“His tolerance is ,” he commented, slinging Donghae’s arms over his shoulders. “Thanks for watching him.”

“It’s no problem,” Ryeowook answered, shuffling his feet. Jungsoo gave him a long searching look before shrugging. He heaved Donghae into the car.

“Do you need a ride back?”

“No, thank you. I can walk,” Ryeowook said. The thought of sitting in a car with Jungsoo made his skin crawl. He had no doubt that Jungsoo still thought that Donghae was too good for him, and he was probably right.

“If you say so.” Jungsoo shut the passenger door and got in. He looked at Ryeowook one last time, as if he could rend all his secrets from him before the car engine sputtered to life.

The cool wind swept Ryeowook’s coat back as he walked along the street, and he wrapped it around him tightly, trying to memorise what it had felt like to have Donghae so close to him. Donghae would not remember it, certainly, but Ryeowook would, and it was the closest he would ever come to holding Donghae the way he wanted to.

-

The party was a blur to him. Donghae only remembered running into Ryeowook at the party and the surprise he had felt before the rest of the night turned into a film reel that had been exposed to light. He awoke with a pounding headache that was aggravated by the sun shining through the cracks in his blinds. Rolling over, he groaned when a knock sounded on his door.

“Are you awake?” Jungsoo peeked inside and Donghae buried his face into the pillow instead of answering.

“Let me die,” he mumbled.

Jungsoo laughed, walking into the room. He was kind enough to leave the blinds alone, reaching for the sheets instead.

“This is why you don’t drink, lightweight,” he teased. “It’s time to get up. Don’t you have training today?”

“M’ not going.” Donghae’s words were muffled by his sheets. “Head hurts.”

Jungsoo clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He rubbed Donghae’s hair gently until Donghae swatted at him in protest.

“Hyukjae called,” Jungsoo said, stepping back. “He wanted to know if you got home okay.”

“Didn’t he bring me back?” Donghae slurred, throwing an arm over his eyes when Jungsoo finally opened the curtains.

“No. He dumped you on Ryeowook. Ryeowook called me.”

“Ryeowook called you?”

Jungsoo hummed in answer, carefully tying the drapes into place. He pointed to the carafe and pills set by the bed, and Donghae nearly knocked them off in his haste to get to them.

“Get up. I made hangover soup,” he said and Donghae finally noticed the smell drifting in from his open door.

He crawled out of bed, too preoccupied by the growling monster that was his stomach to think much of Ryeowook. In fact, he did not see Ryeowook at all until a few days later, when he ran into the lecture they shared, late and frazzled and the only seat left was the one next to him.

Ryeowook wordlessly pushed a set of papers towards him and Donghae took them without thinking.

“Thanks,” he panted, pausing when he looked down to see Ryeowook’s neat handwriting adorning the notes. Ryeowook nodded, before turning right back to paying attention. Donghae watched him for a long moment, distracted by the slope of his cheekbones and the way his lashes fluttered. He pursed his lips when he wrote something down, and there was a single lock of hair that hung in his eyes that made Donghae’s fingers itch to push it away.

“Hey, Ryeowook,” Donghae said once the bell had gone, rising quickly to block Ryeowook from running off.

“Hyung,” Ryeowook blinked up at him, and Donghae’s tongue tied itself into knots.

“Um– thanks for last week,” he stuttered and Ryeowook’s lips curled into a soft smile.

“I didn’t know hyung was a lightweight,” he teased as Donghae stepped aside to let him pass.

“Well, uh–.” Donghae scratched his head sheepishly. “I don’t usually drink at parties.”

“You were a very enthusiastic beer pong player,” Ryeowook said, lips twitching into a smirk and Donghae’s cheeks went hot.

“I’m a terrible player,” he said and Ryeowook laughed. His laugh was like sunshine in a bottle and Donghae wanted to drink it up with how much it warmed him from inside out.

“I gotta go, hyung. But I’ll see you around!”

“Yeah,” Donghae murmured, watching Ryeowook dart out of the classroom, his cheeks still hot. 

The halls were papered over with posters for the upcoming dinner and dance by the time he finished up his last class. Donghae spotted his teammates at once, clustered around the biggest table in the middle. Hyukjae had declined his invitation to lunch with the team; he never liked Donghae’s teammates very much.

“Did you see the posters?” Donghae asked as he sat down. His attention was immediately caught by a small man walking into the hall, wrapped up in a blue striped sweater. When had he become so attuned to when Ryeowook walked into a room? Ryeowook never even looked up from his phone as he walked, carrying his books on one arm.

The chatter of his teammates seemed to fade away as Donghae zeroed in on Ryeowook; he must look like a creep, but he could not help but admire how the cardigan fell so nicely to just below Ryeowook’s hips and how adorable his overly long sleeves were.

“Who are you gonna ask?” Youngwoon elbowed Donghae and Donghae’s head snapped around from where he had been watching Ryeowook cross the food court, his ears going hot.

“Huh?”

“To the dance. Who are you asking?”

“I don’t know,” Donghae answered, trying to keep his eyes from straying to Ryeowook again, but it did not work. Ryeowook was like the sun and Donghae was a sunflower always turned towards him. Of course, his teammates would notice.

“That guy?”

“You like him?”

The incredulity in their tones made Donghae twist his head away, frowning.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He was new.”

“He’s a transfer.”

“I heard he was bullied so badly in his last uni that he had to be pulled out.”

“He’s a little strange, isn’t he?”

“Strange?” Donghae blinked, unsure if they were talking about the same person.

“He always walks around with that sketchbook of his.”

“I’ve seen him on the bleachers during practice. He doesn’t even play.”

“Well, I think he’s cute,” Donghae said, oddly defensive. “And I might ask him to the dance.”

“Really?”

“I bet you won’t,” Youngwoon guffawed. “He’s too weird, Hae ah. There’re so many better choices.”

Donghae wanted to argue that he did not want better, whatever that was but they had already changed the subject and moved on.

He pondered on Youngwoon’s words, getting himself so worked up over them that he thought he might punch him the next time he saw his teammate. But Donghae was Donghae and he had the memory of a goldfish. It was easier to forget things, especially when he had other better things to remember.

Donghae catalogued every smile Ryeowook directed at him whenever they passed each other in the halls, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings every time. He noticed him sometimes on the courts now, sitting on the bleachers with a pencil and his sketchbook and wondered who he was there for. There did not seem to be a single guy on the team that might be his type. Donghae tried hard to squash down the green-eyed monster that rose in his chest at the mere thought that Ryeowook might like someone on the team.

That thought was quickly quashed when they ran into him after lunch, the entire team clogging up the hallway. Donghae would have missed him, if he had not seen Ji Won stumble back with a curse.

“ing n