It was fifteen minutes after noon. Fifteen minutes too late.

Chanyeol tapped his foot impatiently, eyes fixed on the form in his hands. Even though he was often breaking school rules to party, he had decided to take a more law-abiding route for this party. Something about the mythical proportions to which he had conflated it in his mind made him feel like legitimizing it so that he could brag about it without needing to use clipped tones or side glances. No, this party was going to be his pièce de résistance.

Funnily enough though, he was running late to meet up with Jongin because his other classmates were also getting permission to go off-campus for his party. Of course, they were coming up with other excuses – parents visiting from outside the country, a childhood friend’s birthday party, a museum visit for a school project – whatever guise they needed. Thankfully, not everyone was using legitimate means to get off-campus or the faculty and staff would be suspicious. Plenty of people were going to be sneaking out, and Chanyeol normally would have been among them. But not today. He had too many things to do.

“Park Chanyeol.”

He jumped up from his seat and shuffled over to the secretary’s desk. He placed his off-campus form in her hand.

“Visiting home for the weekend?” The woman looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

He nodded curtly. It wasn’t a lie. He was visiting home. It just so happened that there wouldn’t be anybody there, at least not until that night when the entire school swarmed for his party. But for now, he was just going home for the weekend because he missed his bed, which he in fact did. Even though Sooman Academy had top interior designers bring in the best ergonomic furniture, nothing replaced the feeling of sleeping in his own bed – though he likely wouldn’t be sleeping in it tonight. Maybe he would stay Sunday night as well and come back Monday morning so that he could.

“Very well. Give my best to your parents,” she said. She signed the bottom of his request and filed it before handing him a stamped off-campus pass.

He gave her his most dashing smile. Pocketing his ticket out of there, he said, “I will.” As though he actually spent time with them, let alone even wanted to.

Chanyeol’s phone buzzed in his pocket as he made his way to the exit of the school. He lifted it to his ear, already knowing who it was.

“You’re late.”

“I know. I was held up with some, ah, more official matters.”

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t just stand around here waiting. I’m going to start getting suspicious looks. It’s not exactly a common sight for someone to be walking around Cheongdam with a huge package, one that’s filled with liquor at that.”

Chanyeol rolled his eyes. “The code to get into my house is 112792. Wait inside. I’ll be there in ten minutes, Jongin,” he instructed before hanging up. The fact that the code his parents had set was for his birthday seemed like it was something sentimental or sweet, as though it were proof of some semblance of a relationship with their son, but the reason behind it was simple, almost tinged with malice: they thought it was the only way he would remember it.

He flagged a taxi down and rattled off his address. It wasn’t far since Sooman was already in Gangnam in the adjacent neighborhood Daechi, and he probably could have taken the subway there. But Chanyeol was among the wealthy, and the wealthy do not take subways, unless of course they are Sehun.

Sehun glanced at his watch as he leaned against the door of the train, bobbing his head to the music coming through his headphones. He was running late to meet Jongin. Really late. So late that he was surprised he hadn’t gotten multiple calls from him yet. In fact, he hadn’t received a single call. But it wasn’t entirely his fault. He had set his alarm for ten in the morning since he was supposed to meet Jongin at eleven off campus. He had woken up and gotten dressed, but somehow between his closet and the door he ended up back in bed and asleep again. He woke up with a start at twelve and practically sprinted to the nearest subway station, and Sehun never ran.

He texted Jongin a quick message that he was on his way but didn’t get a response.

Even though he typically didn’t involve himself in these sorts of matters – this was almost exclusively Jongin’s territory – Sehun was curious as to how Jongin acquired all of this liquor and in such large amounts. It never seemed to be illegal, at least not beyond the fact that he was underage just like the rest of us. We later learned that he had an old acquaintance whose parents owned a restaurant where they had plenty of alcohol, and so he bought it off his friend.

Sehun gripped the safety bar as the train came to a stop. He exited to the street level, trying not to think about the strange familiarity he felt every time he came here. It shouldn’t have been strange since he had grown up in this neighborhood technically, but never feeling at home in his own home led to this feeling of disconnect. He checked the address that Jongin had sent him yesterday and shook his head in disbelief when he actually read it. Chanyeol lived a floor above his own parents. He swallowed his anxiety and entered the building, praying desperately not to run into them. If he did, he didn’t know what would happen, but it surely would not end well. Whenever Sehun met with his father, it always ended with an earful about his inability to excel at anything.

Sehun steeled himself and entered the elevator. A housekeeper exited, but no one else got on. As the doors closed, no one called out asking him to hold the elevator. He was alone. So without a single harrowing encounter, Sehun made it to Chanyeol’s front door. He heaved a sigh of relief and punched in the code with shaky fingers.

“Hello?” he called, slipping his sneakers off. He wandered around Chanyeol’s place, calling Jongin’s name. As he walked into the kitchen, he was surprised to find not just Jongin but also Chanyeol. The two were talking, and Jongin was putting an envelope in his pocket. Sehun assumed correctly that it was money.

Jongin leaned against a wall, arms crossed, as Chanyeol rifled through a large box. “Yeah, everything is there – oh, Sehun, there you are.”

Chanyeol looked up sharply, recognizing the name. Sehun was close with Joonmyun sunbae, and even though he’d invited Joonmyun because he was part of the group known as everyone at school, he was still wary about being around some lapdog of the class president. “Why is he here?”

“He was supposed to make the delivery with me, but I guess he got late.” Jongin shrugged.

Chanyeol nodded, filing the information away for future reference. So Joonmyun’s little dongsaeng was in cahoots with the class rebel. Interesting.

Sehun pressed his lips together with a quick nod. “What he said.”

“What are you so worried about?” Chanyeol asked, noting his still trembling hands.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Just worried about running into my parents.”

Jongin raised an eyebrow. “They live here?”

Sehun nodded wordlessly.

“Anyway, to more pressing matters,” Chanyeol said. “This had better be everything.”

“It is.”

“Okay, I trust you. I’m just surprised you got it so easily. I mean, sure, a couple of bottles of soju is pretty easy to come by, but this is a lot.”

Jongin lifted his shoulders. It wasn’t clear if it was meant to be flippant or just apathetic, but that’s how he’s always been. Ambiguous and confusing. “Well, if that’s all you need, I’ll be off.”

Sehun looked at him helplessly.

“See you later. Sorry you came all the way here for nothing,” Jongin said before walking out.

He actually was sorry for once. In fact, something about Sehun made him feel really sorry for the kid. They may have been the same age, but something about Sehun seemed so small. Jongin knew that Sehun probably felt sorry for him as well, but he knew that he was ed up, beyond repair in fact. But Sehun was different. He wasn't broken, not the way Jongin was, and Jongin hoped he'd never reach that point, which was a surprise since he rarely felt anything these days, especially since it was so close to a certain date that he would much rather forget.

Perhaps that was why he was actually planning to attend Chanyeol’s party. A few drinks was supposed to help people forget, though Jongin wasn’t sure at the time how he would react to alcohol. Even though he smoked, he wasn’t much of a drinker, at least not yet. Even now, he still prefers lucidity and being in control of himself. After all, he’s always said it’s the only thing he’s ever had control over.

Jongin wandered out of the building what he was going to do with himself today. He sneaked off-campus the night before and wandered the city all night before finding his way to a sauna to sleep. He had no intention of returning to school until it was necessary. For now, though, he had decided to go to POSCO art gallery. Besides the fact that he had an art history exam on Tuesday, he actually enjoyed art, especially modern art. The fact that it could be understood and interpreted in so many different ways was unsurprisingly appealing to him.

When he entered the POSCO Center though, Jongin nearly bumped into a group of people standing and talking under the TV funnel in the lobby. It seemed they were all directors of some sort. Jongin bowed and muttered and apology before continuing on.

“Kim Jongin, right?”

He turned around and soon recognized Baekhyun among the group. He bowed. “Hello, sunbae.” A quick greeting should suffice.

“What brings you here today?”

Jongin sighed. “Just coming to the art gallery.”

“Have you been to the POSCO before?” Baekhyun asked. “It’s one of my favorites.”

Jongin nodded again. He had known that Baekhyun was supposed to be all chatty and nice, but he had assumed that it was an act. Not only was he genuinely being nice, but he also seemed to actually be interested in Jongin. “I guess this is your cover for going to Chanyeol’s party tonight,” he said, for once putting something of an effort into a conversation.

Baekhyun shook his head. “I am going, but I had already planned to come here today. My father’s friend is the curator here, and I came by to see if he would come to talk to some of the art classes on Monday.”

Jongin’s ears perked up. “Really? I guess I’m not skipping class on Monday,” he murmured to himself.

“Oppa!”

Both turned around.

“Ah, Miyoung, do you know Jongin? He’s a year younger than you I believe, right?”

Jongin recalled hearing once that Baekhyun had a younger sister, but she was older than him. And since he was rarely at school functions, he had never seen her before, but he wasn’t all that surprised by her appearance. He knew they were attached at the hip. Plus, she looked a lot like Baekhyun with the same radiant smile and kind eyes so she didn’t really seem like a new face to him.

Yet, there was something about her that was familiar. It conjured a memory from the recesses of his mind, and the sudden flashback from the past struck him like a lightning bolt. He bowed a quick greeting and a mumbled apology before shuffling toward the gallery.

Something about Miyoung was different, intriguing, a little bit coy. A lot like her.