I stared at the bottle of beer in front of me. My notebook sat in front of me with the engraved pen Chanyeol had given to me as a gift resting on top. Words weren’t coming to me. Nothing was coming to me.

“Aren’t you going to drink your beer?” Jongin said, nudging me.

I flinched instinctively.

“You okay?”

“Are you?” was all I could manage.

Jongin paused and swallowed some of his drink. “Not really, but usually you hold together better than I do at this time of year. What’s wrong?”

I gulped, trying to get the lump of anxiety out of my throat, but it seemed to have glued itself to the center of my esophagus. I felt simultaneously like I was about to cry and choke at the same time. When I opened my mouth, silence.

“Does this have anything to do with what you’ve been writing?”

With a sigh, I just opened my notebook to where I had begun and slid it to him. I didn’t want him or any of the others to know that I hadn’t just been writing articles. No, this was supposed to be an all-encompassing account of everything that happened that year, and writing it was so emotionally taxing. I hadn’t even realized it until now when I was completely sapped of the willpower to hold myself together, and I wasn’t even that far into it.

But I wanted Jongin to know. I was writing this for myself. It was part memoir, part diary. I hadn’t started on it with the intention of publishing it, but I knew that if the possibility came up, I would have to confront all of the guys. Nonetheless, while I still didn’t know for sure if I wanted to publish it, I needed to talk to someone about it, and Jongin was the best person for that because he knew me best.

With a chuckle, Jongin picked the notebook up. “Your handwriting is chicken scratch. I don’t know how I’m going to read this,” he said with a furtive, concerned glance at me that he thought I didn’t notice, “but I’ll try.”

Joonmyun was not a patient person. His lackeys had learned to be prompt in delivering messages and running errands, he was frequently covering his own curriculum in his classes as the other students were too slow, his computer had even been overhauled and streamlined just so it could run faster, and he’d just now come alone so as not to wait for anyone – friend or date – so not a patient person was an understatement. No one and nothing made Joonmyun wait. And this elevator was the last thing he expected to force him to wait.

Just when he was ready to give in and take the trek up the stairs to Chanyeol’s apartment, the elevator dinged its signal upon arrival. He growled almost inaudibly under his breath and stepped into the elevator.

Joonmyun was not a partier by any means. His goals for himself were clear: He was to graduate with honors from the prestigious Sooman Academy, receive acceptance to a multitude of American universities, attend law school, all to start a career in international diplomacy and politics.  This path allowed no room for distractions. Except for tonight.

As the elevator climbed, Joonmyun couldn’t help but remember his father’s words to him the last time he had seen him: “You are better than me, and you’re better than all that I can give you – you’ll prove it one day, I know it. But you can allow nothing, absolutely nothing – that means friends, ethics, girls, nothing – to distract you from your bright future.” Yet, here he was, on an elevator to the party of the century, at least that’s what Chanyeol claimed it would be.

The doors opened, and Joonmyun paused for a moment. Did he really want to be here? Was this the best for him and his bright future?

“Joonmyun-hyung!”

He lifted his head at the voice – Baekhyun stood in front of him – and put out a hand to stop the closing doors.

“What brings you here?” Baekhyun asked and fell into step beside Joonmyun as they walked toward Chanyeol’s parents’ apartment.

Joonmyun looked him over. He and Baekhyun were so similar and so different, still are actually. They were perfect in every way – grades, looks, connections. But Joonmyun was ruthless and ambitious, and Baekhyun was thoughtful and nice, and right now better dressed. Joonmyun suddenly felt rather self-conscious: khaki pants that were a little too wide and a slightly ill-fitted button up shirt didn’t exactly make for ideal party attire – but that was party attire, a glance at Baekhyun’s outfit: perfectly tapered dark jeans and a maddeningly well-tailored sweater.

“I could ask you the same,” Joonmyun responded.

“Not really an answer to my question,” Baekhyun said with a laugh, “but Chanyeol invited me.” There was something odd about his demeanor -- it threw Joonmyun off, and nothing threw Joonmyun off.

“He invited everyone.”

“Which is why I asked why you’re here. I mean, I know I’m not exactly known for running with Chanyeol’s crowd on the secret dorm party circuit, but I’m not here for me but for my sister,” Baekhyun said, a smile teasing at his lips but not his eyes. “And that brings me back to my original question: why are you here? I mean, are you really here to party, or do you have some ulterior motive? I’ve just never known Kim Joonmyun to do anything that didn’t advance his career or social standing.” They stood in front of the door, dull music pounding through it and a sea of laughter muted behind it.

Joonmyun was surprised at this confrontation since he and Baekhyun were typically cordial with one another, but it quickly clicked into place his motive: his sister. “If you’re asking if I’m here as class president to enforce rules or break up the party, the answer is no,” he retorted. “So don’t worry about your pristine record or that of your sister. I’m not going to sully it. Besides, this is an off-campus party so it’s not like I have any authority here anyway.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, trying to hide his fury. He wasn’t mad at Baekhyun. In fact, as irritating as it was that Baekhyun was asking him something so affront, it was more infuriating that he didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know why he was here.

Baekhyun’s expression changed. “True. I just wanted to make sure that Miyoung wouldn’t get in any trouble since she is hopelessly excited to come to this, and I couldn’t very well let my sister go to an off-campus Park Chanyeol party that is said to be of mythical proportions unescorted or worse escorted, only to get in trouble.” He grinned, and this time it seemed genuine.

So Baekhyun wasn’t as nice as he seemed – he was incredibly protective of his sister, seemingly to a fault. Joonmyun filed this away, nodded, and returned the smile. “Of course,” he said. “I understand completely.” Hand on the doorknob, he opened the door and tilted his head, gesturing inside. “You coming?”

Baekhyun shook his head. “I’m waiting on my sister,” he responded.

“I noticed that she wasn’t with you,” Joonmyun said.

“Yes, she unfortunately slipped away from me as I paid our cab fare, but she should be out here any moment now,” Baekhyun said, arms crossed over his chest. He was clearly distressed with his sister’s disappearance but didn’t want to act it, particularly after the exchange he’d had with Joonmyun, and while it would’ve been the perfect time to attack, Joonmyun refrained.

“I’m sure.” He walked inside and called over his shoulder, “Enjoy the party,” before closing the door behind him.

The non-stop assembly line of exasperated sighs aside, Baekhyun was trying not to act worried about Miyoung’s disappearance. He had already texted her that he would wait outside to meet up with her, and even though she hadn’t responded, he was positive that she would see it and immediately come out to meet him. It was just loud in there, and she probably hadn’t heard her phone, but knowing her it wouldn’t be long before she checked it. Maybe she’d texted him back, and he hadn’t heard it because his phone was still on silent.

A glance proved him wrong.

“Waiting for a call?”

Baekhyun turned to his left and recognized the school troublemaker’s face immediately. “Kim Jongin, right? We ran into each other earlier at the museum.”

Jongin nodded slowly. There was no way he could forget that encounter, not when Byun Baekhyun had treated him so kindly and not when his sister had seemed so enigmatically familiar even though Jongin knew he had never met her, or even laid eyes on her. “Where’s your sister?”

“That’s the mystery question.”

“Oh, you’re waiting to meet her?”

Baekhyun nodded, staring at his cell phone screen.

Jongin said nothing and simply entered the party, unsure of what to do with himself. People danced, chatted, laughed around him, and he knew right then that he needed a drink. Jongin wasn’t entirely sure why he was even there. Today was normally reserved for getting lost. Today he would normally take a train to some random place in Seoul that he didn’t know, and he would just spend the whole day taking everything in, eating in all the tiny, delicious places he found, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes in parks and just wandering. This today was not normal though.

Rifling through Chanyeol’s kitchen, Jongin found the complete stash of alcohol, not just the makeshift bar for guests, and grabbed a bottle of soju for himself. He sat on the steps that led up to the bedrooms and watched his classmates drink and socialize around him, as he drank and didn’t socialize.

Chanyeol was in the center of a group of girls, all fawning over him, and drinking straight from a bottle of rum. He laughed and then passed it around, taking turns kissing each one of them. They all giggled and simpered for him, and he returned their displays with -grabs or appreciative winks.

Jongin rolled his eyes at their antics, but then he noticed it.

Chanyeol looked past the girl in front of him at another girl in the distance. She leaned against a wall and chatted with another boy as she drank. She burst into laughter at something he said, and he looked mildly surprised and discomfited with her exuberant response.

Chanyeol frowned and gently pushed the girls in front of him out of the way. Miyoung's friend really didn’t deserve such a wholehearted, gorgeous reaction because there was no way anything he had said was funnier than when Chanyeol had greeted her with his wit at the door. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said and left the bottle of rum with them before crossing the room toward Miyoung and her friend. “Hello, Miyoung,” he cut in, ignoring the blank look her friend gave him, “how are you enjoying the party?”

“It’s fun,” she said with a smile.

“How can you say that when you haven’t danced yet?” Chanyeol said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the dance floor.

“But Kyungsoo,” she protested, managing to leave her drink on a shelf before she was in the middle of the mass of bodies pulsating around her. Chanyeol held her hands and pulled them around his neck.

“Relax,” he said. “I don’t bite.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” she said with a laugh. She moved her body against his when he shifted his hands to her hips. “Anyway, I’m not really worried about you, as much as I am of your harem of fans and scorned women.” She gestured toward the group of girls he’d left behind earlier. “They don’t look too happy that we’re dancing, especially with the show you were putting on for them earlier.”

“Oh, you saw that?” Chanyeol’s expression became smug. She’d been watching him after all.

“You’re the host of this party, and you’re kind of hard not to watch when you’re in the center of the room, making out with seven different girls,” Miyoung responded with a shrug. “Who’s to say you don’t see me like one of them?”

Chanyeol was unhappy with her tone. She clearly was not like other girls who would just fall at his feet or jump when he snapped his fingers.  “I don’t though.”

“How can I know that for sure?”

“I chose to dance with you not them after all.”

Miyoung laughed mirthlessly as though she didn’t believe him still. “And why’d you do that?”

“Because you’re different from other girls.”

Miyoung stopped dancing and removed herself from him. “You know I’ve always wanted to come to one of your parties because I’ve heard that you are quite the entertainer, but I’ve never had and never will have any interest in guys like you, Park Chanyeol,” she said before walking away.

Chanyeol stared after her, hurt and confused. He thought she’d like to hear that – that she was different and that he wanted to treat her differently. So what did she want?