Chapter 4: “I anchor my ship for a little while only - Walt Whitman”

Nighttime fell, and the boys had gotten busy with preparing their stuff for tomorrow. Dinner, according to Eunhyuk, would be served in an hour.

His mom really overdid it when she said Yesung would be having loads of extra coats and pants. His stroller bag was practically filled with his uniforms. For crying out loud, he was twenty-one. It wouldn’t mean he actually grew a few inches through the summer. He could have simply just used his old ones before, but no. His mom had to buy him new shirts and pants for the school year. She must have spent a lot on buying the fabrics.

“Yesung-hyung,” called Kibum. “Do you have an extra pair of pants? I think I’ve left two pairs. , I’m such a mess. I hate it when this kind of happens to me.”

“Eh, don’t speak those things in front of the maknae,” Yesung told him, looking at the maknae who was earnestly reading his science book by his bed. Nobody would ever suspect that he was actually reading a game guidebook about Defense of the Ancients. He recently bought it a week ago and never had the chance to open it; until now, that is.

Kibum laughed, wondering still. “Ah, but Yesung-hyung, don’t you know I learned that from him?”

Yesung had his tongue out at Kibum. Kyuhyun merely chuckled at them both, knowing Kibum was telling the truth. Yesung started to search through more of the neatly pressed clothing, taking out his old ones.

“Here, Kibum-sshi,” Yesung took out two pairs of pants, looking as good as new. “They were mine when I was your age. Be careful with them. My mom sewed them back for me because I accidentally ripped them while I was playing football. Not my fault, the stitches were already loose in the first place.”

Kibum chortled. “Yesung-hyung, you’re really funny. Thanks.” He turned the pants around, noticing now the slight imperfection of his mother’s sewing. But all was well still, as he tucked the pants into his own bag.

“I’m going to head out and see what’s for dinner,” Kibum told them as he closed the door behind him.

 “Kyuhyun-sshi, shouldn’t you be preparing your own uniforms? Freshmen usually have trouble getting accustomed to the school rules.” Yesung suggested.

The boy stared at him grumpily. First off, he didn’t like being told about the things he was supposed to do, things that require his responsibility. If his father hadn’t cut off his allowance on buying new gadgets, he wouldn’t even be here in college.

“They’re already prepared, for your information, Yesung-hyung,” Kyuhyun retorted, annoyed.

“Then hang them by the dresser over there,” he ordered now, rather sharply.

Kyuhyun reluctantly stood up, throwing his book down. “No need to be pushy.”

“I’m just saying that so you won’t be cramming tomorrow,” Yesung told him impatiently. “Your class starts at 8, Kyuhyun. If you can’t attend, you won’t be in the professor’s list. Do you understand what I’m talking here?”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t want your nag,” he muttered, continuously in search for his uniforms.

“I heard that, Kyuhyun,” standing up, Yesung left the room without another word. It caused too much stress to be controlling the mouth of one of his dongsaengs. For sure, this would be one long hard year for all of them to get along.

 The maknae spotted the black blazer and the blue striped sleeved shirts that went under the navy sweater. It was a good thing Seoul was not experiencing any extreme weather conditions or his uniform would always be soaked in his sweat.

Observing Yesung’s uniform, his tie was crimson in color, silky and smooth, unlike his which was all white. Beside it was Kibum’s, also having a white tie. SMEU, which stands for Seoul Marshall Elite University, was built in the late 1700s, and for believing in the name of Elite, they wore uniforms to identify them from other college schools.

He hung his uniform on the left of Yesung’s uniform, so that Kibum won’t mistake it as his. Earlier while he took SMEU’s flyer to be the game manual of his x-box, he read that you were to wear the sleeved shirts first, and then you had to knot the white tie around your neck. The navy sweater would be next. This was the A-type uniform, standing as the alternative type. In formal occasions, you were to wear only the shirt and your tie, putting the black blazer instead of the sweater. This was the O-type, meaning original wear. It was like wearing a tuxedo, only it was half as formal. He finally understood, according to the handout----seniors were to wear a golden tie, juniors with their crimson ones, sophomores in their dark green, and lastly the freshmen would wear white ties. It proved that white stood for purity, green for the inexperienced, red for veterans and gold for the higher-ranking.

Found in both the blazer and the sweater’s left side, the university’s badge, pentagon with an almost flat pointed end, was divided into four corners. At the uppermost left side was gold in color, at the right was red. Below this corner was painted in shady green and lastly, the lower left side was white. In the middle of every color, marked in blue, were the letters ‘SMEU’, all caps and bold: ‘S’ in the golden part, ‘M’ in dark maroon, ‘E’ by the green one and ‘U’ at white. A black ribbon tied to a torch arched its way around the middle part. This was SMEU’s symbol for the past hundred years.

“Oi, dinner’s ready,” Eunhyuk’s voice echoed into the hallway, and Kyu’s stomach started to complain. He kept his books and turned off the lights as he got out. Smelling crabs and shrimps as he went down the stairs, he suddenly missed the chefs’ cooking back at his hometown.

-o0o-

“Who cooked this?” asked Hangeng, his lips in delight as he poured the soup unto his rice ball.

Ryeowook raised his hand. “I did, Hangeng-hyung. I’m sorry if it doesn’t taste too good.”

“Nah, Wookie-sshi,” Heenim said, gulping the food forcefully down his throat. “It’s even better than what I had for lunch at the café with Sohee.”

“Who’s Sohee?” asked Siwon.

“His girlfriend,” Kyuhyun answered before Heenim did. “I saw them earlier.”

“Liar,” The man mumbled. “He’s lying. Kyuhyun, don’t. Sohee’s one of my friends when I was a kid.”

Hangeng took a spoonful of the crab soup. It was too dull, no flavor and no anything. The soup looked odd in so many ways, too. He kept on wondering what Ryeowook put in it to make it look so pale. The moment he realized it was not so good for his tummy after all, Hangeng excused himself from the table and went straight to the sink to vomit.

Ryeowook pouted, seeing that he could have killed his hyung for making such a horrid soup.

“Don’t feel bad,” Sungmin told him, smiling. “It’s just that, I think hyung is lactose intolerant. This has milk in it, right?”

“Coco milk, Sungmin-hyung,” he replied sadly. “I could have caused hyung…”

“Eh, he’ll get over it,” Eeteuk stated. “Don’t take it personally, but I do like Hangeng’s cooking better. This was good, too. No offense, it’s just good.”

“Actually, I prefer this kind of recipes,” Yesung looked up after he finished his bowl. “Don’t you too, Siwon-sshi?”

The man barely nodded. Truth was he didn’t even dare touch his spoon and chopsticks yet.

“I find it horrible, Wook.” Eunhyuk splattered the remaining taste on to the table’s mantle.

“You’re being harsh again, Hyukjae-sshi,” Donghae said. He looked at the kid, knowing that it was his first time getting so many criticisms from older men. “I love it, Ryeowook-sshi. Please continue making this kind of food.”

“Please, don’t.” Kyuhyun muttered egoistically, throwing away his napkin and making an impolite exit, not even looking back or saying he would excuse himself.

“Kyuhyun, if you can’t control your ing anger against the rest of us here, at least show some ing respect for the food. This is bull, man,” Heechul stopped him, halfway through the living room just when he was planning to go to his room.

“Watch your mouth, Heechul!” Eeteuk scolded him for making rude comments to the maknae.

Hangeng from the kitchen seemed to have continued puking out the rest of the food that he ate. Everyone at table grew quiet, as they had expected a fight was going to be up.

Heechul was appalled. “Leeteuk-hyung, I was disciplining him! If his parents couldn’t even teach him what respect means, I might have to do it myself so what if it deals the hard way.”

“Don’t you drag my parents into this!” shouted Kyuhyun at him before running up the stairs.

“ you, Kyuhyun. You’re nothing but a nuisance!” he replied angrily, sighting his chopsticks at the boy but simply threw them at the wall when Kyuhyun walked away.

“Practice what you preach, then,” the hyung demanded, everyone falling into silence. “How can you discipline him when you cannot even dare control your own mouth? How is it possible for you tell on others when you cannot even tell yourself to stop it? Have respect for the food. I don’t remember you being even a Christian Catholic.”

“It doesn’t require religion to have someone earn a sense of discipline in their hearts,” Chul snapped, bowing his head with full dignity and left the table not a word more.

“Heechul-hyung, wait up!” Donghae stood.

“Donghae-sshi, finish first your plate. Then you may leave,” Eeteuk ordered him, only being able to look eye to eye with the crabs he gradually ate.

The dongsaeng completed the said task. He left the table, afterwards. Ryeowook, disheartened by the negativity of the problem, was finished so he asked if he could be out now.

“Wookie,” Eunhyuk called him apologetically. “I am sorry for saying that the food tasted awful. Can I ask you a favor little dongsaeng? Can you have my uniform ironed out for me tonight? It would be a great help. Even just the coat.”

Teary-eyed, Ryeowook bowed his head, still grinning. “I will do my best, Eunhyuk-hyung.” He bid the others good night already since he was tidily in his pajamas even before di