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Minho raced down the hallway as fast as his ten year old legs could carry him. He skidded to a sliding halt just before the last corner and peered around it. No teachers - that was a good sign. He quickly made his way to the suspected classroom and thanked the gods that the door was open.

The errant baseball was on the floor. Minho cursed Jonghyun for the disgraceful hit. He still wondered how the other boy had made it into their sports team. Everyone had frozen in a terrified anticipation for the sound of breaking glass when they saw the trajectory of the ball. When none came, the boys rounded onto the sheepish kid with the baseball bat and pushed Jonghyun away to retrieve their ball. “Minho!” Junsu called out to their tall outfielder. “Go with him and make sure that he doesn’t run away!” And so Minho followed the other boy.

A teacher was standing on watch duty at the entrance to the classroom blocks. Jonghyun and Minho blanched; Mr Jung was strict like a demon monster. Rumour had it that he even made their principal cry. But quick as mischievous ten year old boys were want to be, they devised a plan. Jonghyun tipped forwards, clutching his shin in pain. (Minho had kicked him for authenticity.) Mr Jung took pity and guided the fallen boy to the nurse’s office. And Minho ran; as fast as his ten year old legs could carry him.

Minho was bending down to pick up the ball when he heard movement at the doorway. He hastily stood back up, excuses on the tip of his tongue. “Oh,” said the boy at the door. Key’s brown eyes were wide behind his thick black-rimmed glasses. He was carrying a roll of paper, a paint brush and a tin of paint. Minho watched his face light up with excitement, drop his things to the floor, and run up to the other boy. “Are you here to join the club?” he asked him.

Minho grimaced. It was not that he did not like Key. Key was just ... odd. He did not fit in any of the categories ten year old kids put each other in. Minho was in with the sporty crowd, and he knew that Key was a decent athlete too. But Key was only interested in sports if they were in PE class. Key had an eye for art and could have been in with the stylish and cool ... if it wasn’t for his obsession with learning new things. He was full with questions for the teachers and his bespectacled face could be found staring intently at new things. And such behaviour was just not ‘cool’.  Because Key was able to do everything reasonably well, he did not fit in. Key became the awkward loner.

“Are you here to join the club, or not?” Key repeated. He pointed to the hand drawn poster on the door. ‘Science club.’

“Um, no.” Minho declined and moved to leave.

“Why not?” Key persisted. “It would be fun!” But Minho only shook his head and left Key stare glumly after him.

The next day, Minho was running down the hallway again. Jonghyun had repeated the same disaster as before and was now limping away with Mr Jung; the latter was advising him not be as clumsy as Lee Jinki.

Minho’s heart sank when he came to the classroom and saw the broken glass on the floor. He took a step inside and noticed the darkness of the room. Half of the windows were covered with black paper. A wet paintbrush was left on the floor, on top of a half-painted sheet of paper. He carefully stepped around them and made to pick up the ball when a thin hand stopped him. Key was crouched next to him, a broom and sweeper in his other hand.

“You shouldn’t pick it up yet,” Key told him, “Not if you don’t want to cut yourself.” He cleared the broken glass into the sweeper and handed over Minho’s baseball. “I suppose you will be going then,” Key muttered to the floor, his glasses sliding down his nose.

It was almost as if the world was giving Minho a second chance. He looked at the awkward boy in front of him, and then down at the paper and black paint. He wasn’t sure what Key was doing, but he found himself willing to hang around to find out. And so Minho said that he would stay and help Key.

And Key’s face lit up like the sun coming out after a cloudy day.

Minho was now with Key in the classroom during his lunch breaks, transforming the white sheets of paper to black. The smaller boy was delighted that he would not need to use the ladder to hang the sheets over the windows. Minho had asked him what he was doing to the classroom, but the other would only shake his head and evade the question. “You will see!” Key said with an excited smile.

They would chatter about random things during their painting. Key would teach Minho about the physics of seeing colour; and somehow turn the conversation around to how certain shades complement each other and which ones were painful to the eyes. Minho in return would talk about how the season’s baseball teams were performing and which players should quit because they were just bad. Sometimes, Key randomly jumped onto Minho’s back and dangled from his shoulders, laughing at how he couldn’t touch the ground if he tucked his legs in. Other times, Minho would surprise Key with small pranks, causing the other boy to drop to the ground and roll about with pure laughter.

Without realising, Minho had befriended the famous awkward loner. He found himself waiting for Key outside his classroom at the start of lunch. His smile was as bright as Key’s as they ran towards their secret classroom and project. Minho’s absence did not go unnoticed by Minho’s baseball team. Junsu sent Jonghyun to investigate and the news of Minho and Key was found out. They were not impressed.

Key was out on the fields, his eyes focused on the sky above him. He had been on his way to the classroom with a fresh tin of paint when he was ambushed by the sport jocks. They had told him to stay away from Minho. Minho was not interested in being friends with freaks like him. Key told them back that Minho could do whatever he wanted, including preferring his company over their boorish brains. That last bit did not go down well.

It was five minutes later that Minho found Key on the grass, staring up at the sky. Black paint covered half of his uniform, some splattered on his high cheekbones. His glasses were skewed across his face and his lip covered with dry blood. His knuckles were grazed too; Key had also fought back. Minho fixed his glasses back into place and lay down next to him. They shared the silence, contemplating the vastness of the sky above them.

“Why are you friends with me?” Key finally asked Minho. Minho could feel Key’s clear brown eyes on him, and he shrugged his response. He did not know why he stayed with Key; he was no longer as curious about their secret project as he was before. Rather, Minho was curious about the boy next to him, awkward in his ten year old skin, as if he was a sleeping caterpillar waiting to burst out into a magnificent butterfly. Minho wanted to see Key in his full colourful beauty.

“Why not?” Minho answered Key. “We’re friends now, isn’t that enough?”

Key stayed silent and returned to staring at the sky. He reached out a dirty hand and made to capture the sun. “Say, Minho,” he whispered, “Do you ever wonder why the sky is blue?”

“Nope,” Minho answered him. “It could be the whole rainbow for all I care.” Key gave him a scandalised look, pushed him away, and accused him for being boorish.

The windows of the classroom were finally covered with painted paper and the room was dark as night. Minho sat at a table and watched Key carefully poke a hole in one of the sheets with a pencil. White light shone through. Key then went to the briefcase he had carried with him and took out a glass pyramid. Minho stared at the dull object, wondering what was so great about it for Key to be handling it with such reverence.  He gently placed the pyramid onto a table and motioned for Minho to join him. He then nudged the table along so that the pyramid cut through the incoming beam of light.

Rainbows filled the room, along with the sound of childish laughter.

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It was seven years later and Key ran down the hallway as fast as his long legs could take him. He swerved around the corner and dashed down the stairs. The cries of the chasing girls echoed after him and he jumped the last few steps and raced towards the sport fields. Key spotted the soccer team and made a straight line towards them, like a missile locked onto its target. He jumped over a few players who were lying on the grass, waiting for their coach to arrive, and hid himself behind his taller friend.

Minho peered behind himself and raised a bushy brown eyebrow at Key. “Shh!” Key whispered and pushed Minho’s head back around. “Act natural!”

“Ah, ok.” Minho gave a hearty laugh and shrugged to his other teammates. One of the players which Key had jumped over raised himself onto his elbows and asked the breathless boy what they could expect in terms of entertainment from their high school ‘prince’. Key shot him a glare and hissed at him to keep quiet.

Things had changed once Minho and Key entered high school. Key’s insatiable curiosity and keen desire to understand everything had made himself a teacher’s pet. Yet, his strong sense of personality and independence was like a light of its own and drew in everyone’s attention. He had shown himself to be a reliable leader in the many group events the school coordinators convinced themselves was necessary for teenagers; and so Key was sought after to assist in many afterschool activities. He was the tutor girls dreamed to have, if not their partner for the school dance. He was the leader guys were proud to have. Key was dubbed the school ‘prince’ and had his own fan club.

“Somehow they found out it was my birthday today,” Key muttered. He buried himself into Minho’s back when he heard the stream of girls run along the sideline of the field, looking for him. They were holding various forms of presents or cards. No doubt some of them carried love confessions in their hearts too. Key shivered and groaned when the last of his fan club disappeared around the bleachers and faded into the distance.

“They’re all gone now, stud.” The soccer coach had come up to them and indicated for Key to remove himself to somewhere more appropriate. It was now time for her to work her players into the ground. Key stood behind the coach and watched Minho train with the others. Minho hadn’t changed since they were ten years old. He was just as enthusiastic with sports as before; the passion now directed towards soccer instead of baseball.

Although Minho was dedicated, he was not their best player. With every goal he scored, Minho allowed himself a small fist pump. He was recently promoted into a regular position and both Minho and Key knew that he was not as outwardly confident as Key. There were a few times when Key wished that Minho had more faith in his hard work. Key had spent countless evenings in the park, watching him run drills and self-exercises. He was better than what he was showing to the others! But when Minho scored another goal and he gave his captain a humble smile, Key unconsciously smiled at its shyness. Like their black room seven years ago, it felt like this was their secret.

A crash at the end of the dance hall told everyone that Lee Jinki was in the building and causing unintentional havoc. Key sighed and pushed Minho towards its general direction as an order to salvage whatever was possible. The school dance was in its last stages of preparations and it was also going to be professionally filmed as part of the school’s promotional package; so Key couldn’t have things go wrong.

Minho trotted towards Jinki’s form and the mess of audio cables and speakers. He patted the clumsy boy’s back and started to help bring order back. Another crash sounded to their side, and Minho was about to complain to Jinki about his curse when the other threw his hands into the air to indicate that it wasn’t him.

A lithe boy leant across the fallen table. Heechan seethed with anger towards Minho for taking his spot in the soccer team and he kicked at the fallen contents to further emphasise his ill intent. He threatened to wreck more havoc during the night, during the filming of Key’s major event, if Minho did not step down from the team. Both Minho and Jinki protested against the ridiculousness of the scenario, but Heechan was adamant. In the end, Minho sighed and asked if there was another way because it was the coach’s decision and not his. “We’ll have a shootout then, to prove who the better player is. And the loser will have to go to the dance ... in a dress.” Heechan challenged him, and that was how Minho and Jinki were at the park. And that was why Jinki buried his face into his hands with dread for his tall and shy friend. Minho had missed the last and critical goal.

Minho stood out in the boutique like a sore thumb. He was a 17 year old who loved sports. A grass-stained uniform suited him better than the satin and lace in front of him.

“Oh! This one is nice!” A male voice sounded from the other side of the clothes rack. Minho peered over and saw Key pull out a white, lacy dress and judged its size against his body. A pale blue item on the other side caught Key’s attention and he picked it up with bright eyes. He brought it up to the shocked Minho and approved its fitting. “You can take this one!” Key told him and went in search for shoes.

“What are you doing?” Minho found his voice.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Key tutted at him and mused over the range of heels. He felt more than heard Minho’s disbelief and he threw his hands into the air with an exaggerated frustration. “I am going to the dance with you,” he explained, “in a dress, too.”

“Why ... why are you doing this with me?” Minho asked Key. He began to think of ways to dissuade Key from the heels and to protect his princely image. He knew the difficulties the other went through as they grew into teenagers; and how much better he was now, with his butterfly wings unfurled and admired.

Key saw the conflict play across Minho’s concerned face and he pouted with a sullen silence. Key wondered whether Minho knew how much he depended upon him. He wondered whether Minho knew that he would do anything to be part of his memories; even be filmed at the school dance in drag. Ever since the start of their friendship with a baseball and unused classroom, Key felt that he had everything he ever needed.

“Why not?” Key finally answered him as if it was obvious. “We’re friends, isn’t that enough?” He then picked up his dress and heels and disappeared into the changing rooms. He shouted out to Minho that they would need to hurry if they wanted to get their hair and make-up done too.

The sports field was electric with the screams of the crowd and the strained voices of the coaches on the side, yelling at their teams to ‘Go, go, go!’ Key stood on the bleachers, cheering his lungs out and waving his banner high in the sky. The soccer team was in their last minutes of their qualifying match for the Nationals. It was a tough game – no side had yet scored a single goal.

Minho was on the field in his jersey, the proud number 1 on his back. He chased after the ball, keeping it in his possession. When he saw others who wanted to steal it away from him, he cleanly passed the ball to his captain. They were almost near the goal. There were only seconds left. The ball arced gracefully in the air and Minho took it into his feet. He lined up his sight and his body responded. The ball left his foot and flew in between the goal posts to sleep in the net.

Minho’s team converged onto him as the final whistle was blown. It was full time; the crowd went wild. And Key grabbed the nearest person to him and shouted out that that person who just won them their game was his best friend. And nothing in the world was ever going to change that!

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