I watched as Miyoung danced with Chanyeol. She seemed to be having fun, which was good, considering I just felt like a fish out of water there. I only managed to talk to Miyoung, that is, when she wasn’t off socializing like a well-adjusted teenager at a party should, and I was certainly not the dancing type, what with my two left feet, or the drinking game type so that left me to just stand by awkwardly and watch.

I made my way over to the stairs that gave a view of everything only to find them already occupied. “Mind if I join you?” I asked the guy seated in the seat I wanted.

He shook his head and scooted over and up a couple of steps. “Have a seat.”

Cradling my drink in hand, I dropped in front of him onto the hardwood of the staircase and turned slightly toward him.

“Kim Jongin,” he said, extending a hand.

I paused a beat before I realized he was introducing himself and not confusing me for someone else, as frequently happened. “Do Kyungsoo,” I responded and shook his hand. “I’m not much of a party person. You?”

Jongin just shook his head, eyes fixed on the dance floor.

He said nothing else after that, and I wondered why he’d felt the need to introduce himself if he wasn’t feeling particularly chatty. He later told me that he wanted to be nice and talk to me but didn’t know what else to say. In retrospect, I’m not surprised. I didn’t say anything else to further the conversation either and instead joined my attention with his.

Miyoung was dancing up a storm, and I was just wondering how long Chanyeol would keep her there. I didn’t have much experience when it came to girls – just the one – but something about her and Chanyeol’s interactions bothered me. She managed to look annoyed and amused at the same time, and I didn’t know if I should go over there and try to get her out of there or if I should leave her to enjoy herself.

Who was I kidding? I was some nobody, and there was no way I could get out of taking a girl from Park Chanyeol alive or even succeed in taking a girl from him at all, for that matter – not that I wanted Miyoung like that. It was just the principle of the matter since I didn’t want to leave her trapped in a dance and conversation with him if she didn’t want to be. She’d been awfully nice to me and put up with my weird quietness and obsessive focus on school, and it only seemed right to make sure that she as my friend wasn’t stuck with some wannabe Casanova berating her.

I glanced around the room, wondering where Baekhyun was. Miyoung had said (lied, I later noted) that he would meet us here later, but I didn’t see him anywhere, which was odd since Baekhyun didn’t seem the type to let his younger sister come to this sort of party alone. I wished that I had his number, but I didn’t so all I could do was watch and make sure nothing unseemly happened.

Suddenly, my view was blocked when a tall, skinny freshman stood before me.

“Jongin,” he acknowledged then nodded at me as a greeting before sitting beside my silent seatmate.

I said nothing, feeling that he wasn’t the most talkative either. He was oddly fidgety in his seat behind me, but I ignored him and watched the dance floor instead, the conversation between Chanyeol and Miyoung suddenly appearing a little less than friendly. She walked away from him, a frown marring her face.

I stood and waved, and she headed over. But before she got to me, standing just feet away, Chanyeol was at her side again. He grabbed her elbow and turned her around to face him. I said nothing and just watched them talk.

“Wait, what did I do?” he asked. “I was trying to be nice. That was a compliment, you know. I do actually like you – you’re different. Can we at least talk somewhere?”

Miyoung scoffed, and I could practically hear her eyes rolling in her head even though I only saw her back. “You’re just saying that you like me because I don’t like you. I’m just another conquest for you but more of a challenge – you have to talk to a girl for a change – so you want to prove to yourself that you can win any and all girls,” she said and pulled her arm from his grasp. “I’m not stupid. I like to have fun and want to party, but I’m definitely not stupid.” She turned around and noticed me. She smiled, grimace gone, and joined me. “Hey, sorry to abandon you like that.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s okay.”

“Let’s get out of here for a bit. I need some air – the balcony is open so maybe we can go there, sound okay?” she suggested, grabbing my arm and dragging me before I could say anything in response.

As we stood outside in silence, I simply stared at my practically untouched drink. I’d gotten it when I’d arrived but had yet to do more than sample it. Miyoung was convinced that I was a whiskey person, something about the fact that I’m a writer, even though I told her I didn’t drink and was thus definitely not an alcoholic. Surprisingly, I liked the taste of it, but still I didn’t want it. I really only held onto the cup as a way to keep my hands busy and to look like I sort of belonged.

“Who does he think he is?” Miyoung’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“I’m sorry?” I looked at her, staring fiercely at the skyline. The Miyoung that I’d known for these short few weeks had always been happy, over the top with mirth, full of delight, so I didn’t know what to say to this Miyoung.

Miyoung turned to me, rage evident in her eyes. “Maybe I should just keep taking Baekhyun’s advice about avoiding dating and just guys in general,” she said, looking away again. “But, then again, not all guys can be like Park Chanyeol, right? I mean, you’ve always been perfectly civil and polite with me. But you don’t look at me like he does. But there's no comparison anyway 'cause you don’t like me, right?” She regarded me once more, and I felt like she was expecting me to say something.

“Um, I –”

Before I could say anything else, Baekhyun appeared on the balcony, hands in pocket and looking mildly annoyed, and I suddenly lost the ability to speak. All I did was point, and Miyoung sighed, all of the air rushing out of her – she knew it was her brother, I could tell from the way she seemed to deflate from young, maturing woman into innocent little girl. She pasted a cute smile on her face and shattered whatever façade or perception I had of her being genuinely cute all the time.

“Oppa!” She hugged him. “I was wondering where you were!”

He wrapped his arms around her. “I was waiting for you outside,” he said. “Didn’t you get my text?”

She pulled her phone out and tapped the dark screen. “Oh, no, I think my phone died!” she said, pocketing it again. She side-eyed me, I suppose to see if I would oust her lie since I’d just seen her check it not fifteen minutes ago and then turn it off, apparently ignoring Baekhyun’s message, but I said nothing and merely watched.

“It’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright, but I’m glad you’re with Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun said with a grateful smile over Miyoung’s shoulder.

I lifted my chin in a nod of acceptance.

“She hasn’t been doing anything she shouldn’t be like drinking or flirting with any boys, right?” Baekhyun asked me.

Miyoung stared – glared even – at me, and I shook my head. “We’ve just been talking, and she even said that she plans to keep taking your advice and avoiding guys,” I said, adding an extra precautionary layer.

Baekhyun chuckled. “Well, I guess it isn’t so bad that we got split up,” he said. He glanced back into the apartment, scanning the faces. “Oh, I see some friends over there so I’m going to say hi, but stay glued to her side for me, Kyungsoo. I trust you with her safety.” He clapped me on the back before walking away.

“Kyungsoo, you’re the best!” Miyoung said, suddenly squeezing me in a hug.

I felt my heart squeeze. I suddenly realized why I tolerated Miyoung, why, I daresay, I was drawn to her: she was just like my last girlfriend, the first and last girl I’d loved. She was bright and confident and thoughtful but with an edge to her that was a little cynical.

It’s silly to think that teenage love is anything beyond infatuation, anything real, but its effects, on the other hand, are undoubtedly real. They shape a lot of our perspective on love and relationships as we grow up and ultimately on what it means to be truly happy. If things go well for you, for the most part, you emerge from youth hopeful that you’ll someday find the one, but if things don’t go so well for you, as they did, to say the least, for me, well, you give up pretty damn quickly.

I’d forgotten what a crush felt like and had given up hope that I would ever move on. It sounds stupid if you think I’m talking about simple heartbreak, but I was dealing with far greater things, things that fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds shouldn’t have to face. So I can’t deny that I was surprised to feel that subtle twinge, that constriction of breath and blood buried deep in the center of my chest, when Miyoung hugged me.

“Thank you so much for covering for me! Baekhyun-oppa would have killed me if he knew I’d been drinking and then dancing with Chanyeol, of all guys,” she went on. “Celebratory drink!” She looked around. “Oh, no, where’d my drink go? I’ll just take yours since we both know you’re not drinking it.” She grabbed it from my hands and downed half of it, eyes squeezed shut in a shiver.

“Whoa.” I pulled the cup from her hands. “I can’t cover for you if your breath smells like whiskey.”

She laughed. “Well, I’m drinking for two since you refuse to use your drink as more than an accessory,” she said and stuck her tongue out at me before breaking down into a giggle.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re a sip away from being drunk so let’s hold off on anymore celebratory drinks, okay? Your brother would kill me if I let anything happen to you.”

“Even if anything is me?” she asked, poking herself in the chest.

“Yeah, even if I let you happen to you.” I laughed softly and turned to face the cityscape again, leaning on my forearms on the balcony edge.

She smiled and moved beside me. “You really are the best,” she murmured, just staring into the distance.

It was still fall, but it was almost over with the coming winter, a season that was slow to set in. It was fickle at first, coming only at night then lingering longer into the morning until one day it was just there all day. That must’ve been why I felt her skin so warm against mine where our arms touched. That must have been it, I told myself. It was just cold, and she was warm.

“Kyungsoo,” she started, breaking the silence. Her voice was pensive again.

“Yes?” I said, not taking my eyes from the lights of the city below us.

“You never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“You know,” she said, stepping back and turning to face me – I felt myself frown at the cool air blowing between our arms – “whether you like me or not.”

“Oh, I –”

“You’re still talking to this guy?” Chanyeol’s condescending voice cut me off. “We didn’t have to dance if you didn’t want to, but you’d rather talk to him than to me? I’d at least expect you to go for someone as attractive as I am, not some wide-eyed quiet midget weirdo.”

“Hey, don’t say things like that about Kyungsoo,” Miyoung defended. “This is why I don’t like guys like you. It’s all a competition, some game, to you, and I’m some prize, another notch on your belt.”

“Oh, come on. I just want to get to know you,” he said insistently.

“Exactly. You don’t know me so there’s no way you can actually like me,” Miyoung countered.

“So you’re saying that I need to know you like he does for you to accept that I like you,” Chanyeol retorted, poking me in my skinny chest.

“It’s not like that,” I said softly. I shrunk back, not wanting to cause conflict. “We’re just friends.” I lifted my hands in defeat, trying to signal that I wasn’t in any sort of competition with him. I was just here because my friend coerced me to come to this event that was supposed to be just a party but had begun to feel like a mistake.

“No, Kyungsoo, we’re not going to lie about our relationship just because he’s an who can’t take no for an answer,” Miyoung said.

“What?” Chanyeol and I whipped our heads at her, both thrown by her comment.

“Yes.” She her lips. “It’s still new so we didn’t want to say anything to anyone yet, but Kyungsoo and I are in a relationship.” She grabbed my arm and wrapped it around her waist.

I froze, looking between them.

He snorted. “Oh, I see how it is. You’re just playing hard to get and using him to get to me,” he said, “but I’m not stupid either. Do you really expect me to believe that?” He crossed his arms and lifted his chin proudly. “If you’re in a relationship with him,” he said it pointedly and condescendingly, “then prove it.”

“Okay.”

Miyoung turned and trained her eyes on me for the briefest moment before lowering her head, and then my mind went blank. I couldn’t think. Her lips just grazed mine – it was the faintest, barest of touches – and I heard, no, felt her breath mixed with mine as she parted her lips and pulled away.

She leaned back against the balcony rail and crossed her arms, returning Chanyeol’s smug expression. “See?”

Chanyeol’s nostrils flared, and the corner of his lips twitched. “Just friends, huh?” he said, this time directing his attention at me.

I nodded weakly. I didn’t come to start a fight with the host of the party in his own house while he was clearly drunk, but I had no idea what to do or say next. I didn’t know if I could even breathe. Not after that kiss. What was that about anyway? I mean, it was clear that she was doing this to get him off her back, but I’d felt something. Did that mean she might have, too? And did I really like Miyoung? Or was it because she was like the last girl I’d loved, the last girl I’d kissed, the girl who had claimed to love me and share every bit of herself only to commit suicide without any warning or any note?

And then Chanyeol punched me.