"The moment when you first wake up in the morning is the most wonderful of the twenty-four hours.  No matter how weary or dreary you may feel, you possess the certainty that, during the day that lies before you, absolutely anything may happen.  And the fact that it practically always doesn't, matters not a jot.  The possibility is always there."

---

 

There it was again.

That vexatious ringing.

Kim Kibum buried his face in his pillow, groaning loudly.

And, to make matters worse, it wasn't even Key's alarm clock that was going off.

Detatching himself from his sheets and standing up, Key wobbled over to the wall opposite of his bed and banged on it twice. "Yah, dongsaeng, turn off your alarm clock! You're going to wake the whole complex!" Hearing a muffled yell of protest from the other side, Key turned and strode back to his bed, throwing himself on it. He lay on his back atop the messed sheets, sighing. Once awake, Key had the flaw of not being able to sleep again. He stared up at the ceiling of his room, frowning. There was something important I was supposed to do today. He mused thoughtfully, but didn't much dwell on it. Getting up once more, he dressed himself in clothes that were for relaxation only- clothes he would never wear outside alive. As he dressed, he saw three suitcases lined by his door, and blinked. Wonder what those are for, he wondered. Once dressed, he did his hair, making sure it was curled well enough, and smiled at the caramel color, loving how he could make his hair seem so wonderful. He'd make a great hairdresser.

A great gay hairdresser.

Since Key was fifteen, he'd come to terms with the fact that he simply didn't like girls. When a girl in his class came up to him with a cute smile and a quiet 'will you accept my confession?' or 'I like you- go on a date with me?' he simply didn't feel as good as when he saw the cute boys in his class stride into the classroom. He hadn't told anyone- oh, no. Not a soul. Not even his mother knew. She was already stressed enough with her job that Key didn't see reason in telling her he was gay. How would he say it, anyway? His mother was homophobic. She tried to hide it, tried to teach her two children to be open in life, but Key knew. He knew better than anyone how much his mother hated homouals. And he couldn't tell her he, himself, was a homoual.

Key opened his door and walked into the kitchen, only a few paces away. He came to the sight of his mother, leaning against the counter with a happy smile on her face. For once, Key noted, his mother didn't seem to be worrying about anything.

"Good morning, umma." He said, and she looked over at him, changing gazes from the window to her son.

"Morning, Kibummie." She hummed, and turned, grabbing a plate and dishing bacon, eggs, and a slice of toast onto it. Key ignored the 'easy-bake' packages on the counter next to her.

Thanking his mother, he ate slowly, and when he looked up again, he noticed she'd gotten lost in staring at the window again. "Something outside interesting?" Key asked with a mild curiosity. His mother glanced at him as if she thought he'd said something odd, and shrugged.

"Not outside." She answered, and took a sip of her coffee. Putting the mug down, she smiled at Key. "I came home late. I'm glad you didn't stay up with your sister- you'd be exhausted for today's events."

Not questioning the second part, Key frowned. "You came home late? Why...?" Then he saw it. A jacket, hanging on the coat rack, that would have never belonged to Key in a million years, yet was obviously made for a male. "... Oh, right." Key muttered darkly, frowning at his eggs. His mother had recently become quite smitten with a certain banker. A man who was dull, humorless, and hardly even handsome (in Key's evermost critical opinion). His mother, he sensed, had only begun to date him because he filled a void she needed filling for. His father, most likely, was that void. But Key didn't want to think about that. Not now. Not on such a beautiful morning.

It actually was quite a beautiful morning. The sun shone through the slightly dirtied window perfectly, a splash of warmth in the air-conditioned apartment. He felt his feet warm from where it shone on the ground, and his toes inched forward even more into the light, aching for warmth.

"Oh?" His mother repeated his tone, frowning. Key new he was already on thin ice. What, with his mother's temper and such. "What do you mean, 'oh'?"

"I just forgot, that's all." Key shrugged. He stood and disposed of the remaining food on his plate, and slid it into the sink. But his mother was relentless.

"You still had food on your plate, Kibum." She said sternly, her voice becomming cold. "If you're not going to eat it, tell me that. Don't just take it and not eat it."

You're the one who gave it to me in the first place. "Yeah, sorry." Key said dismissively, and for a moment, his mother looked as though she wanted to reply scoldingly, but seemed to remember something. Her eyes raked over him critically, and he frowned.

"You're wearing that today?" His mother questioned, and Key's frown deepened.

"Is there something going on today?"

His mother looked as if she wanted to laugh, and she shook her head. "You're meeting your new bandmates. SHINee, remember? You're meeting them up today. You packed your bags a week ago, remember?"

A pause.

A breath.

"That's toda- oh, god, that's today!" Key exclaimed in a panic while his mother watched with amusement. "I can't wear this! I'm- oh, I'm such an idiot- those bags were- what time am I supposed to leave to meet them again?"

"Ten o' clock, sharp." His mother replied, and Key immediately glanced at the clock on their microwave. Nine fifteen. It would take him at least twenty minutes to make his hair even prettier, and Lord knew how long it would take for Key to pick out an outfit. Turning sharply, Key sprinted toward the hallway. "Wake your sister up on your way to your room! You've got time."

Key sighed aggrivatedly, but stopped by his sister's room. Flinging the door open, he found her huddled in a bundle of sheets. Without waiting, he ripped the sheets off her and igonred her cry of protest. "Pop out of bed, Ae-Cha! Hurry it up!"

"If people were made to 'pop out of bed'," Ae-Cha growled at him as he turned to leave, "then we'd all be living in toasters!"

Key ignored this and sped into his room, glancing at the suitcases for a second as if to make sure they were still there, and threw himself at his closet, tossing aside outfits and clutching certain articles of clothing to his chest. After thirty minutes, he was ready to go. He'd gotten ready surprisingly quickly. He made his hair and outfit look stunning, and grinned at himself in the mirror.

"Key, honey, it takes ten minutes to get to the bus station by car! If we don't leave now, you'll miss it!"

In a second, Key was out the door.

---

Choi Minho stared at his calendar.

Circled in red with a big, black 'S' on it, today's date was marked.

And, after a moment of thinking, he remembered why.

"SHINee, huh?" Minho murmured to nobody in particular. He couldn't quite remember how the name had been chosen to represent them, but all he knew was that this, apparently, was a big deal. The members of this band hadn't been released to the public as of yet, but he did occasionally see a blog or two titled 'SHINee! Can you wait?' It never occurred to Minho that this band would make it big even before he knew his band. Apparently, Minho was proven wrong more often than he thought.

The smell of toasted bread and bacon wafted into Minho's room, ang he took a moment to relish in the smell before shrugging on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt on, and slipped on his shoes. He checked his phone, and decided that he had enough time until he had to head to the station.

Minho slowly made his way down his staircase, and into the foyer, being slow and leisurely. Looking around at the glamor of his house -the nearly sparkling floor, the windows so clean they could pass as mirrors, the flowers that looked fake yet weren't- Minho cringed, and looked down, walking into his kitchen. The only sounds he heard as he entered the room were the noises of his mother as she cooked, serving up crisp bacon, and stacking together an egg benedict on each plate, and his father flipping the page of his newspaper. It was only Minho, his mother, and his father in his overly large house. Well, Minho supposed there was the butler, too, but Minho wasn't too fond of the idea of someone doing things for him.

After a moment of silence, Minho spoke up from his place at the door. "Good morning, mother, father."

His mother looked up as if just realizing he was there, and looked back down just as quickly. "Minho. You slept well, I assume?"

"Yes, mother."

"Good."

Another silence ensued. Minho shifted his weight to his right foot and sighed quietly. His mother served out the plates just as he sat at the table, and he picked up his fork to eat, but before he could, his father lowered his newspaper and stared at Minho sternly.

"Minho," the man said sharply, "thank your mother."

"... Thank you for the meal, mother," Minho said after a silence. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Today was his day. He wouldn't let his father nor mother dampen his mood.

"Your band thing is today," his mother decided to start small talk, and before Minho could reply -preferably with 'its not just a thing, mother'- his father spoke up.

"I still don't think its a profitable way for you to spend your time." His father started, and Minho knew he had only just begun. "You could stay here, you could inherit my business. You're the heir to a wonderful fortune and company, Minho, which is a much better time consumer than being in a band. A band, Minho? Why a band?"

His father spoke the word with disgust, as if he were asking Minho 'A e, Minho? Why a e?" And, though his father was asking with an intense frustration, Minho knew he also didn't want him to reply to it.

"... I'm going to get ready." After a dragging silence, Minho spoke, and without waiting for his parents to say anything, he stood and headed for his bags, thinking that he couldn't get out of his home any faster.

---

"Oh, Jinki, honey, you're such a good boy." Lee Jinki's mother crooned as she rolled into the room. Literally. Rolling her wheelchair into the kitchen and in front of the table, Onew's mother sighed. "I feel so bad for you doing this. I should be doing this. I'm your mother! What kind of mother doesn't make breakfast for her children?"

Shaking his head, Onew smiled. "No, mother, I don't mind. Really. I like making breakfast."

Her mother sighed, going on about how she felt like she didn't do anything anymore. Onew had woken up early that morning -oh, he'd barely been able to sleep the night before- and had made breakfast and, considering his hands ached for things to do when he was nervous or bored, he'd even cleaned up the house a bit. Maybe Onew wasn't necessarily 'normal' for cleaning when bored, and cooking for his mother, but he'd always just thought it was how he was. Ever since his mother had been put in that wheelchair, at least.

"You're excited," Onew's mother said, smiling happily. "Oh, this is wonderful. Really, you're so happy about this!"

"Are you sure you'll be fine while I'm gone?" Onew asked worryingly, and his mother smiled, shaking her head.

"Oh, hush, Jinki," she said comfortingly, "you know my old high school boyfriend will be helping me get around."

That's what I'm worried about. Onew's mother's high school boyfriend wasn't a bad person- Onew had met him before. He was a decent man who worked for a restaraunt business and was very successful. He was a fine man, but that didn't quench Onew's worry. Not in the least.

"You've got your bags packed and ready, right? Wouldn't want you to be late." Onew's mother said, biting her bottom lip. "Oh, Jinki, I'm going to miss you so much. But what's done is done, and this is a great opportunity." His mother seemed to be convincing herself, now.

Glancing at the clock, Onew sighed. "Looks like I've got to go, mom." Onew leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I'll call when I can. Don't worry, okay?" When his mother nodded heartedly, Onew smiled, and turned, grabbing his bags and walking out the door for what felt like the first real time.

---

"SHINee, SHINee, SHINee~!"

Lee Taemin danced over to his closet, plucking items off their shelves, and spun around, feeling lighter than air. He brushed his teeth and combed his fingers through his hair happily, humming the whole way. His radio played softly in the background as he busied himself with packing his favorite clothes, his favorite items, in a suitcase and duffel bag. There was nothing better than going on a trip. He hadn't been quite informed on the details -more like, he didn't listen- but he knew that he'd be going to stay with his new band mates at a house somewhere on the outskirts Seoul.

Finally ready, Taemin nearly skipped out of his room with his bags in tow and into the livingroom. Kissing his grandmother on the cheek, he sang, "Good morning, grandma!" And dragged his bags to the door.

"Taemin," His grandmother said with affection, "did you sleep alright? Today's a big day for you." She smiled as he nodded vigorously.

"I slept great! It was so hard to go to sleep, though. I'm so excited!"

His grandmother laughed lightly. "That's good. You should be- you're going to have such fun." Taemin's grandmother stood and walked into the kitchen slowly, grabbing a bad. "Here you go- this is for the drive up there. Its full of your favorite snacks."

Grabbing the bad happily, Taemin looked in, and sighed happily, throwing his arms around his grandmother. "You're so nice, grandma! Thanks so much!" Taemin put the small lunch bag next to his suitcase and grinned, flopping down onto the couch, giggling as his grandmother sat next to him. "I wonder what my band mates will be like." He mused. Taemind was admittedly nervous, wondering whether or not he'd like them. Whether or not they'd like him.

Taemin spoke his thoughts aloud, and his grandmother smiled, patting his cheek. "You're young, Taemin. Dwelling on others' thoughts is never a good idea. If they don't like you -which I think would be incredible, since I can't imagine someone not liking my little Taemin- then you'll make them like you. Gradually, people warm up to you. You're just like that."

Taemin laughed, and kissed his grandmother's wrinkled cheek once more. "Thanks, grandma!"

A honk alerted the pair to company, and standing, Taemin smiled down at his grandmother. "That'll be my ride to the station!" Taemin said, and, not being able to resist, hugged his grandmother once more before making his way to the door. "I'll call you lots, grandma!"

In response, his grandmother smiled and laughed waving as he walked out the door. With his bags in hand, Taemin walked out the door, and breathed what felt like his first breath of fresh air.

---

Waking up to a kiss was always wonderful, Kim Jonghyun concluded.

Leaning up into the warm lips upon his own, Jonghyun smiled. "Morning." He mumbled, and pulled his partner for the night down with him. With a girlish giggle, the girl fell upon him, curling into him. He smelled her hair and felt as if he were flying- strawberry scented shampoo. His favorite.

Jonghyun opened his eyes to the eyes of his one-night-stand. She was a thin, short girl with wavy blond hair and coffee brown eyes. Smiling at him, she leaned forward, kissing his nose. "Good morning, sleepy head." She said with a cutesy smile. "You slept like a rock."

"I was tired. You were good." He winked at her, and she laughed, blood rushing to her cheeks.

"Oh, you. You were wonderful, too. I'm so tired- and sore! Kim Jonghyun, you beast." She scolded teasingly, and stood up again. She was fully dressed and ready to go while Jonghyun wasn't. The woman's name was Chan-Sook. From what Jonghyun had gathered in the five different times she'd slept with him, Chan-Sook was a business woman who got around a lot. She often told Jonghyun he was special, but both of them were big on one-night-stands. Neither liked to be tied down, and seeing as this was the case, Jonghyun and Chan-Sook got along together well enough.

"I've made breakfast for your big day." Chan-Sook said happily, and Jonghyun raised his eyebrows.

"You? Making breakfast? You want to kill me, don't you?"

Frowning offendedly, Chan-Sook shook her mane of hair. "Why, Jonghyun, I can cook, you know!" After a doubtful silence from Jonghyun, Chan-Sook turned and strode toward the door. "But don't worry. I actually ordered room service."

Jonghyun grinned and got up, grabbing his clothes that were so monsterously discarded on the floor next to the bed and tossed them out the door of the bedroom, towards Chan-Sook's kitchen. "Would you mind washing those while I shower? I need to leave a good impression." Of course, that was a lie. Jonghyun cared nothing about what people thought of him. Nothing at all. But there were boundaries between what was good and bad in his mind.

Hopping in the shower, Jonghyun soaked himself, washing his hair throughly and thinking hard. He'd be meeting his band today. For some reason, he felt like he could wait. He'd imagine that at least one person in the band was probably up to his neck in excitement for this day, but Jonghuyn felt as if it was just something he wouldn't mind postponing. But he couldn't, and figured that getting it over with was the easiest thing to do.

That was exactly what he thought before he told all of his one-night-standsthat they were just that- one-night-stands.

Getting out of the shower, Jonghyun wrapped a towel around his waist and walked outside, into the kitchen where Chan-Sook waited for the room service. Upon his arrival and his questioning look at the empty countertop, Chan-Sook shrugged. "What can I say? The foor here is fantastic, but their speed is such of an old man."

Shrugging, Jonghyun sighed. "When's my clothing due to be out?"

"Oh, I don't know," Chan-Sook sighed sullenly. "Maybe I'll keep it as a momento. Lord knows you mercilessly leave nothing of yours behind after you a girl senseless."

"That's my clothing we're talking about," Jonghyun said, "if you want a momento, you'll have to pay. I'm going to be famous soon, remember? You'll be seeing me on billboards. And cereal boxes."

"Cereal boxes?" She repeated disbelievingly. "Oh, please. Everyone knows cereal boxes are reserved for sport-heads."

"I like sports. I just don't play."

"Exactly. Do you think they put fat men on cereal boxes because they like sports? No, that's just bad morals."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"I was just saying."

"I'm not fat, Chan-Sook."

Laughing, she shoved his shoulder. "I know, I know. You're a god," She made a noise that was supposed to be a teasingly bad grunt, "just don't let all that fame tear your appeal apart. You know, some of my favorite actors let themselves go with the more fame they got."

"I care about my figure very much," Jonghyun defended. "Becoming overweight is not on my to-do list, Chan-Sook."

"Oh, you, with your witty come backs and y bed hair." Chan-Sook sighed. "I'm going to miss being able to call you up for five months."

"Well," Jonghyun said arrogantly, "all good things must come to an end, right?"

"Oh, you y, cocky bastard."

Glancing at the clock, Jonghyun shrugged his jacket on. Grabbing a bag of clothes, he saluted. "Sorry to disappoint you, dear Chan-Sook, but I simply cannot wait any longer. I'll pick up breakfast on the way."

"I'd better see you on some billboards in five months, Kim Jonghyun, or else."

"Count on it, Chan-Sook. You'll see me everywhere- it'll be like Heaven."

"I wouldn't call that Heaven. I'd probably go insane. And not in the good way." Chan-Sook kissed Jonghyun's cheek and smiled, waving. "Now, get out of here, you bastard. I've ordered a load of room service and when it comes I want to be able to eat it by myself and in peace."

Jonghyun grinned and turned, walking out of the hotel and out onto the street. Looking up at the sky, slightly cloudly, Jonghyun sighed. "Well," Jonghyun said, "I guess this is better than sitting on my all day." And, with that, Jonghyun walked toward the bus stop.

---

;D Thanks for reading! I'll try to get chapter two in soon.