“Gong zhu,” I say proudly, laying the seven of spades down so the edge of the card thwacks against the wooden floor. “Where’s the pig?”

“Nooooo,” Luhan moans, rolling around the floor as he waits for his turn.

“Looks like Luhan has the pig,” Lay comments as he drops the jack of spades on the ground.

“Wait a minute,” I say, examining my cards. No one listens and Tao plays the four of spades. Luhan wiggles in triumph and slaps the ace of spades on the ground.

“Tao diao le!” he crows happily as Lay and Tao groan. “Just escaped!”

“What just happened?” I ask, thoroughly confused. “Isn’t the queen of spades the pig?”

“It is,” Tao explains. “He tricked us into playing our low value cards by making us think he had the pig. Then he got rid of a high value card to avoid getting the pig in the future. It only worked because you had the pig, but didn’t realize it until now.”

“I’m confused,” Xiumin says from behind Lay.

I nod in agreement. “I thought I had it, but apparently not. Can’t you just tell me what to do, Kris?”

“I don’t know what to do either!” he protests. “I’m from Canada, remember?”

“This game is too complicated,” Chen decides. “Let’s play Zheng Shangyou again.”

“But you can’t give up now,” I say. “Don’t you want to want to make a good impression for your next comeback?”

“It’s too hard,” Xiumin says.

“No it’s not,” Luhan says, setting his cards on the floor. “It just takes practice.”

“He’s right,” Lay agrees. “Once you get the hang of it, it’s really easy.”

“Can’t we play soccer instead?” Xiumin suggests. “Soccer is easy.”

“It’s too hot out,” Tao points out.

Xiumin makes a bleh noise and falls back onto the floor, spreading his arms out. I check my watch and stand up.

“It’s almost time for dance practice anyway,” I say. “Myungdae-ssi should be here any minute. You should all change, or whatever it is you do that makes you ready for dance practice.”

“There’s a secret ritual we carry out in Kris and Luhan’s room,” Lay deadpans. “We all put on ski masks, hold hands, and dance around the room, chanting Super Junior lyrics.”

“Okay,” I reply. “Just get on with it.”

The boys disperse while I go outside to wait, but hoping for a breeze in Seoul’s city air is futile, and I soon come back inside to sit in the air conditioning.

It’s been a few months since I first became part of EXO-M’s non-promotional team and even though I feel happier with what I’m doing, not always so critical of myself, there’s always that underlying feeling of what am I doing with my life? I know that I’m getting a move on with it, starting to get it into the direction I want with the people I want, but there’s an increasing sense of urgency and time running out, like the progress I’m making makes me greedy for more. I’m not accelerating fast enough.

…

After dance practice I offer to go with Luhan to a bakery nearby to see if we can hunt down something sweet. He pulls his hood over his face and slides a pair of oversize sunglasses on his nose. The rudimentary disguise and the subtle way he changes his posture, taking away the air of stardom, saves him any recognition. And if he changes it up enough even the managers can’t discern him from any teenager on the streets of Seoul, making us free to entwine fingers and swing our hands about like puppy love has struck us for the first time.

“I thought about you last night,” he whispers into my ear as he wait for the bus to arrive. Beside us an old woman fans herself lazily with a folded newspaper and gives us a look. I gently push his face away from mine and look straight ahead, feeling the sweat beginning to bead on my forehead.

“Stop being so cheesy,” I say out of the corner of my mouth. “Let’s be adults about this.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” he replies mischievously. “Maybe I want to hold your hand and run through the streets screaming Hyosoon noona is mine!”

“Since when have I been yours?” I ask.

His face immediately falls and when I respond with an I was kidding! and a smile I know I love this kid.

…

When we leave the bakery, our lips and searching our mouths for pieces of cake stuck in our teeth, we decide to walk back to SM instead of taking the bus. To be safe we let go of each other’s hands and act like casual acquaintances walking together, but that’s still nice. It’s a break from the superficiality of Our concept for this album is.... and My ideal type is....

“When I was little,” Luhan says, making conversation, “the only thing I wanted was to become a farmer when I grew up. I guess living in the city makes you appreciate the way a plant just grows up from a seed in the ground, without any help.”

“But the seed needs water and sunlight to grow,” I point out.

“Hey, I was just a kid then,” Luhan protests. There’s a pause, and then he asks, “What did you want to be?”

It was the complete wrong question to ask at that moment and I almost stop in my tracks, but I think a moment and say, “A teacher.”

Luhan doesn’t notice; he smiles the most perfect smile at me. “We both wanted to help little things grow, huh?”

“Huh,” I reply.

A silence falls. Luhan sings quietly under his breath, a Chinese song I don’t understand. I want to close my eyes and melt away into his voice forever so I don’t have to think about anything else.

Finally I ask him a question about their new choreography and he breaks into explaining, gesticulating widely with sparkling eyes. I’m not any more enlightened by the time we arrive to the street in front of the SM building, but it’s worth it to see Luhan so animated.

As we cross the final street I make to continue forward, but Luhan grabs me lightly by the wrist and makes me turn left onto a smaller street.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Nowhere. We’re staying right here,” he replies, turning around.

In the shadow of an office building, with bright signs around us and muggy skies overhead, he kisses me.

…

It’s only the slightest brushing of lips and taste of each other’s breaths, but we stay that way for a long time, just close, just silent. I can sense the way he cares from the nervous hesitation of his hand as it comes to caress my face and from the most innocent expression on his face when we pull apart. And I just want to pull him back for another kiss, hug him tight so he can tell that I care too.

So I grab the front of his jacket and draw him in closer, lifting my mouth to his and letting him lean in, eyes closed. This time the kiss is deeper and longer, but still soft and slow. He places his arms around my waist and then we’re completely touching, bodies pressed against each other and tongues searching. When I part for breath I inhale a combination of Luhan, cologne and shampoo and the way his skin tastes on my tongue, and the mint gum he began chewing on the way back and spit out two blocks ago. The air fills my lungs but long after I have exhaled it seems to stay there, swelling until it fills my heart too and I’m just so happy. And so guilty, that someone else could care about me so much when I can't even bring myself to do that.