otl i'm a horrible person it may or may not have been like 6 months. kill me.

as you can see I was writing this in December, hence it is still Christmas in the story line. oops.

its gonna have to remain christmas for a while for the story to make sense AKA THE CHRISTMAS PARTY loool but maybe if i take long enough to update the christmas party will actually happen during real life christmas! :-))

 orz no that would actually be horrible. summer is coming up which means faster updates i promise!!

also thank you guys so much for almost 300 subscribers! you guys are the best. please comment ^^

also a quick apology for the tyness of the chapter. i literally looked up the other day and was like wut da i have a story to write AND ITS APRIL. so i finished this up the fastest i could and its not at all the way i wanted and i had to cut short so im sorry. im already writing the next chapter so please wait for that, it wont take over two weeks bc i know where i want it to go.

REALLY IMPORTANT WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:: THE KAISOO PART IS REALLY REALLY GAY. im apologizing now.

Kyungsoo’s hand is warm in Jongin’s as the younger pulls him along the crowded streets of Seoul, guffawing obnoxiously as they stumble by.

They’d run straight out of the teacher’s meeting and down a few blocks into one of the street markets of Seoul, neither able to control their laughter.

“Look, Jongin! The Christmas decorations are coming out,” Kyungsoo points, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

Twinkling strings of fairy lights have been hung up on every tree lining the sidewalk, red and green wreaths adorning the bushes of the nearby park. Night is just falling and the street vendors are beginning to set up their stalls, lively people chattering vivaciously while pouring into the streets. The smells of Korean street food wafts around them as a breeze whips by.

Like he’s been winded, the breath is momentarily knocked from Jongin’s lungs as he catches sight of Kyungsoo.

The twinkling lights paint pretty shadows on Kyungsoo’s creamy skin, casting mirrors of reflection in the pools of his eyes and drawing the shadows of his eyelashes across milky cheeks. The cold weather has sprinkled a flush on the tip of the vocalist’s nose, dusting the apples of his cheeks a pretty pink, reddening plump lips like cherries.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Kyungsoo asks, turning to meet Jongin’s eyes.

Jongin breathes in sharply, once, twice, forcing himself to look back at the festive lights. “Yes,” he manages to choke out. “Beautiful.”

Kyungsoo grins, and a red heart is cut into his face, gums and white teeth and all. Jongin wants to die, he isn’t supposed to have these feelings and so he laughs, he laughs extra hard to cover them. He squeezes Kyungsoo’s hand, cold from lack of mittens, in the only way he knows to convey his affection, and yet it isn’t enough. Jongin jumps in place, nervousness and excitement contributing to energy.

“Come on, lets do something fun!” he exclaims, dragging his hyung along the streets.

A little while later and they are gulping down scalding hot chocolate from crappy Styrofoam cups at a cheap vendor.

Jongin orders his with extra marshmallows and crushed peppermint, and Kyungsoo takes his plain, crinkling his eyes at the dancer, smiling all the same.

“I’m so glad we got out of that meeting,” Kyungsoo sighs happily as the two walk leisurely through the outdoor market, twisting their way between giggling huddles of girls still in school uniform and screaming little children in brightly colored puffy jackets.

Jongin stops to finger a stuffed Pororo phone charm hanging on the display of a stall. “Yeah, especially after Sehun’s horrible attempt at humor. He gives me the worst secondhand embarrassment.”

Kyungsoo laughs, cheeks coloring. “He’s just a kid.” The elder pauses, index finger tracing the outline of the Krong keychain hanging next to its Pororo counterpart. “Then again, so are you.”

Jongin pauses his ministrations with the Pororo charm, swallowing hard. “I’m only a year younger than you, hyung.” He mutters.

Kyungsoo smiles again, showing curved lips and gums and Jongin can’t be upset at that, can he?

“Yeah, just a year.”

They walk for what seems like mere minutes to Jongin, pausing at random vendors and sharing stupid, embarrassing, funny stories, enjoying the ambience of Seoul during Christmas season. Jongin doesn’t feel this comfortable around anyone- with a natural shyness and tendency to close up around others, he knows that in most cases, his appearance is his saving grace. Dancing is almost like an outlet he uses to release the tension, the stress, his awkwardness. When he dances he can forget everyone else- he can fall into the role he is told to play, a role dictated by the music. Yet Kyungsoo is dancing without the rules, the exhaustion, the dull throb in his waist. Kyungsoo is the home Jongin finds in dance, without even trying.

When he drops Kyungsoo off at the entrance to his apartment complex, it is nearing midnight.

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo begins, and all Jongin can smell is the hot chocolate on the singers breath, warm and sweet and rich. “It’s really late. Do you- do you want to stay over, maybe? You can use some of my spare clothes if you want.”

Jongin blinks rapidly.

Him and Kyungsoo. Alone. In a closed environment together.

It shouldn’t even mean anything to him, really.

 Kyungsoo is a boy. Jongin is straight.

Kyungsoo takes his silence for apprehension, his cheeks coloring a gorgeous pink. “I mean- just, it’s late, and it would be bad if you got hurt going back in the dark. Only if you’re comfortable with it though, I-”

“No!” Jongin interrupts.

Kyungsoo blanches.

“I mean-what I meant by no- I mean- yes. Yes to what you were saying. Yeah. It’s kind of late.”

Kyungsoo’s lips curve slowly, and Jongin still can’t get over that damn smile.

“Well, let’s head in then.”

“Alright, pranking club, let’s roll!”

There is a pained grunt and Sehun throws himself across the parking lot in a clumsy somersault, dancer’s limbs all twisted up like a human pretzel.

Jongdae runs a hand down his face, breathing deeply. “Sehun it’s a ing phrase. You didn’t need to actually roll.”

Sehun lies sprawled out in the midst of the cars, a hand pressed to the top of his head. “Guys, the pebbles- I think I’m bleeding!” he moans.

Luhan rolls his eyes. “Come on Jongdae, he’ll catch up to us eventually.”

The two of them leave the maknae behind, sneaking stealthily to the front entrance of the luxurious apartment complex.

There are Christmas lights lining the palm trees that surround the complex, tinkling music playing from the speakers above the doors. Jongdae can even smell the hot chocolate and coffee coming from one of the first floor flats.

Jongdae scowls at the display of merriness. There was some severe pranking about to take place- Operation: Pranking Club Takes Yixing’s Motorcycle Hostage. No time for fun, games, or Christmas music. (No matter how much he wanted to belt out his very own rendition of Blue Christmas. Jongdae does NOT listen to freaking Elvis Presley.)

“How do we even get in? We don’t have an entrance card or anything,” the vocal trainer hisses, hovering in the shadows next to the huge doors.

“Don’t worry, years of friendship have earned me a free pass.” Luhan snickers, reaching into his pocket to pull out a sleek piece of black plastic.

“Yixing trusts you with that?” Jongdae asks incredulously.

Luhan snorted. “Nah, I think he forgot that he ever gave it to me. It was the first time we got drunk together after getting our jobs at the school. We had one of those bonding, brotherly moments, you know.”

“Da-yuuum, Yixing is loaded as !” Sehun’s voice is loud and grating, lisp prominent and blonde hair absolutely blinding in the dim lighting as he jogs towards Luhan and Jongdae.

“Oh my God, Sehun, calm the hell down and shut up!”

Sehun pouts, dusting dirt from out of his hair. “What? It’s a pretty spiffy apartment complex, if you ask me.”

“Haven’t you been here before?”

“Nah, I skipped last year’s Christmas party to go to skiing with my parents.”

“Lame-o.”

“Are you ready or not?” Luhan asks. “Because once we get in there, we have to act completely normal. We’re gonna head straight for Yixing’s room. We need to break in there, find the keys to his motorcycle, and then head back outside and get to the garage.”

“And remember,” Jongdae speaks up. “Don’t say a word tomorrow. Yixing must come to us.”

The three of them nod in unison.

Luhan slips the black card into the slot and the doors click open, revealing a set of stairs.

“Last christmas, I gabe you my harteu, but da bery next day, you gabe it away,”

“Sehun, please,” Jongin whimpers.

“Shh, Jongin. Let me mourn over my love life.”

“If it doesn’t exist, there’s nothing to mourn over, right?” Luhan asks, bouncing into the room with a twinkle in his eye.

“It is better to not have loved than to have loved with your all.” Sehun whispers poetically.

“I don’t think that’s how the phrase goes.” Jongin mutters. Sehun is such a chump.

Luhan sets his bags on the floor and begins stretching, eyes scanning the room. “Yixing is here today, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, why?” Jongin answers.

“No reason.”

“Oh, God. What did you do, Luhan?”

“Listen up, lover boy,” Luhan’s voice has turned steely. “How about you only ask questions to people you give answers to.”

Jongin raises an eyebrow. If he previously had any doubts about Luhan being the devil, he doesn’t anymore.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Luhan smirks. It’s a dangerous, evil smirk, and it reminds Jongin of his high school ex-girlfriend. “It means, I’ll spill the beans once you fess up about your little date with Kyungsoo.”

“I think I’ll keep my silence.” Jongin says quickly.

“Hey, who’s hosting the Christmas party this year?” Sehun asks, breaking from his off-key ballads for a moment. “I need to start planning my outfit in accordance with the color of the wreaths.”

“Not me again,” Yixing says, catching on to the conversation as he enters the room. “Last year was ridiculous.”

Jongin eyes him for a moment- then considers Luhan’s words- and looks away quickly.

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad!” Luhan protests.

Jongin has to agree. Yixing is rich as and he always goes all out with decorations. (Kris is secretly one of those cheesy soccer moms who love the holiday traditions and stashes tons of Christmas lights in his closet, waiting to be pulled out.) His parties also involve copious amounts of food and alcohol, and who could go wrong with that?

“Luhan. Baekhyun used the Christmas tree as a stripper pole.”

“It could’ve been worse!”

“Minseok and Chanyeol filled all the bottles of coke with soy sauce!”

“Hey, no one was drinking that anyway.”

“Jongin and Tao ended up buck on my floor taking body shots while Jongdae and Joonmyun danced around my kitchen for an hour and got so intoxicated they ended up giving each other s on top of my sink.”

Jongin freezes. “That wasn’t milk!?”

“What?”

“I- In the sink. In the cup in the sink, that wasn’t milk!?”

“What the ? Of course it wasn’t milk you idiot!”

Kyungsoo is relaxing at his desk during study hall, leisurely looking over some of his student’s college applications. Joonmyun hums quietly next to him, entering grades into a computer.

All is quiet and peaceful, the students working calmly at their desks, when the door flies open with an obnoxious bang.

“Hey guys!”

Kyungsoo sighs the sigh of one truly martyred. (It’s Jongdae.)

The vocal trainer is juggling three Starbucks cups, and he glares at the students as he approaches Kyungsoo and Joonmyun’s desk. “Get back to work! There’s nothing to see here, just your everyday teacher camaraderie.”

“Yeah, if teacher camaraderie means you assaulting us every day,” Kyungsoo mutters.

“Hey, I heard that,” Jongdae retorts, eyes narrowing. He sets two of the cups down on the desk in front of Kyungsoo and Joonmyun. “And just so you know, yours is from Jongin.”

Kyungsoo slides the cup of coffee towards himself, unable to stop the flush from coloring his cheeks. “Tell him I said thanks,” he mutters. “And why did he send you to deliver it?”

Jongdae shrugs. “He was at the nurse or something.”

“What!? Why?”

“I dunno. Ask him at lunch.”

Kyungsoo swallows, turning the cup of coffee in his hands. He suddenly feels bad for keeping Jongin out last night. Maybe the weather had made him sick? Maybe he was already feeling ill but he didn’t want to say anything about being in the cold because he was polite?

Kyungsoo groans to himself. If he had made Jongin sick, he’d be guilty forever.

The singer is drawn out of his thoughts when he turns his head to see Jongdae blushing a fire-engine red.

Kyungsoo chokes on his own saliva, the watery substance landing right on the cover of his drink. He grimaces.

There are two reasons this could be happening right now:

1. Sehun’s conspiracy theories about Jongdae were accurate.
2. Jongdae had erectile dysfunction.

Kyungsoo has never seen Jongdae blush before, ever. To be honest, Kyungsoo hadn’t known that Jongdae was even capable of human emotion. Even when he’d been pranked, he hadn’t blushed- in fact, he’d blanched. So Kyungsoo doesn’t know whether to find it amusing or utterly terrifying.

Kyungsoo looks on, stunned into silence as Jongdae pushes a cup in front of Joonmyun, the corners of his lips turning into a soft smile. “Here. I just wanted to apologize for what Yixing did to my cubicle- it was probably really embarrassing for you as well, and I had it coming.”

To Kyungsoo’s surprise and horror, Joonmyun’s cheeks tint pink as well, and as he reaches for the cup, his hand brushes against Jongdae’s.

“Thanks, Jongdae. That’s very sweet of you.”

Jongdae’s eyes are shining with the light of heavens chorus and he is about to turn away when Joonmyun makes a noise in the back of his throat.

“But somehow, I still don’t think we’re even.”

Jongdae is leaning forward now, arms folded over the desk, trademark smirk in place.

“Really now? And what do you suggest we do to finally settle the score?”

“Take,” Joonmyun begins and Kyungsoo is already up out of his seat- “Me,” Kyungsoo is full on sprinting for the trash can on the other side of the room- “Out,” He’s almost there, so close, so close- “To dinner.”

Alas, even the sounds of Kyungsoo’s vomit hitting the floor do not mask the successful flirting of the two biggest noobs in the building.

Why does Kyungsoo work here?

Jongin is calmly sitting down for lunch that day when he feels a dark aura coming closer. He squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth. He's already had one traumatic experience today and he does not need another.

Dontbeluhandontbeluhandontbeluhan

“Hey, Jongster!”

Jongin groans and braces for impact.

“A little bird told me this morning that in addition to the Kaisoo date last night, there was also a little midnight rendezvous.” Luhan saunters up to Jongin, sliding into the seat next to him. “Care to elaborate?”

“ing Oh Sehun-”

Jongin starts to get up, but Luhan holds him back, his grip surprisingly strong. “Not so fast, Jonginnie!”

“Let go of me you demonic baby! Or I’ll tell Yixing that you did something to him!”

Luhan’s fingers press deep into Jongin’s arms. “That’s interesting.” He says, smiling eerily. Luhan’s face moves closer to Jongin’s and Jongin backs away in fear, briefly wondering if there were any crosses or garlic in the kitchen. “Because I have the keys to your house.”

Luhan reaches into the back of his jeans, and sure enough, there is an exact copy of Jongin’s hello kitty house key.

“Where the did you get that from!?” Jongin growls.

“The janitor,” Luhan shrugs.

“The janitor? That’s ing impossible! Why would the janitor have my keys!? Do we even have a janitor!?”

“Shut up, lover boy. Now spill.”

Jongin groans. He can't escape Luhan. “Why is it such a big deal? We’re both males!”

“Yeah, you’re both males, which would be fine if you were both… you know,” Luhan drops his voice a few octaves and leans in closer, if that was humanly possible. “Like me.”

“What, an egotistical maniac?”

“No!” Luhan growls. “Straight.”

“IM NOT GAY!”

“Hey, have you thought about that offer yet?”

Jongin jumps, craning his neck to see Jongdae leaning on Luhan with a hand on his hip.

“A-are you talking to me!?”

“Of course I am, you chump.” Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Answer the question!”

“What offer?”

“Acceptance into Jongdae’s School of Love, of course. A romance course where you learn all the tricks in the book!” Jongdae snaps his gum obnoxiously.

“Huh.” Jongin starts, finally escaping Luhan’s clutches and standing up to move seats somewhere else. “Seems like you could use an acceptance into your own school.”

“What are you talking about, Kim Jongin?” Jongdae asks, straightening. His eyes are narrowed and he swallows, uncertainly.

Jongin grins. For all of Jongdae’s so-called ‘swagger’ and obnoxious bragging, he’s pretty easily baited.

“Gossip travels fast. I see the way you look at Joonmyun.” he stage-whispers. “You might want to tone it down a bit.”

Jongdae’s eyes widen and he chokes on his gum, leaning on the table for support as he hacks.

Luhan stares at the man, round eyes even rounder. “You- what!?”

Jongin takes the moment to make his getaway, spying Sehun from across the room.

The tanned dancer’s eyes narrow. That little bastard. Telling Sehun a secret was just as effective as shouting the words out through a megaphone at the top of Namsan Tower.

Jongin strides over to the man, pushing him away from his conversation with Chanyeol and into the wall, pinning him there with a steady hand.

“You little .”

“Aww, am I named after yours?”

Jongin clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“Jeez, I know I smell good but really man, personal space.” Sehun mutters, clicking his jaw.

“Sehun I swear to God I am going to burn your tongue off the next time you tell Luhan something that I meant only for your ears.”

“Wait, why my tongue? Shouldn’t it be my fingers? Like you were texting me, not talking, so-”

“So I don’t have to hear that obnoxious lisp.”

“Whoa. Below the belt, bro.” Chanyeol voices from the side.

“Get out of here!” Jongin hisses, waving his hand at the taller man.

Chanyeol makes a face and runs off, presumably to go harass Baekhyun or something.

“Why did you show Luhan those texts I sent you!?” Jongin growls.

“Okay, you were freaking out about staying over at Kyungsoo’s house last night and I’m not gay, I don’t know, so I decided to go ask the girliest guy I knew about ways to help you cope with your anxiety!”

“I’m straight!” Jongin pauses. “And why didn’t you ask Tao?”

Sehun rolls his eyes. “Dude. You texted me for like twenty minutes straight about the right tone of voice to use when saying goodnight to Kyungsoo. Also, whether it was alright to cuddle with him before bed.”

“I- I don’t remember asking you about the cuddling…”

“Um- am I interrupting something here?”

Jongin whips around to see Minseok standing behind him and Sehun, arms crossed and eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Yeah, you’re interrupting a giant -whoopin’!” Jongin slurs, trying to perfect his cowboy accent.

Joonmyun passes by with a look of consternation. “Jongin, 25 cents in the No-No jar.”

“That wasn’t even a curse!”

“A curse would’ve been better.”

Jongin sighs and fishes out the money, dropping it half-heartedly in the bowl.

Minseok is still waiting, foot tapping impatiently on the ground.

“Can the ‘-whoopin’’ wait for a few seconds?”

“What is it?” Sehun asks. “Do you…” he looks around quickly, scanning the room. “Have the stuff?”

Jongin looks on, confused, as Minseok purses his lips and reaches into the pocket of his black dress pants.

“Get out of here, lover boy,” he throws in Jongin’s direction.

Yixing is halfway through his apartment door when he stops cold.

He’d felt something strange this morning, but between slipping the shower and burning his toast, he’d ignored it and rushed to school.

But now, he has enough time to register the unsettling feeling of loss running through his limbs.

He drops his bags on the floor and pivots on his heel, knocking a confused Kris out of the way.

“What- where are you going, Yixing?”

Yixing is already in the middle of the apartment complex’s garage when Kris catches up to him, panting.

“What happened?” he demands.

“It’s Cherry Shanghai,” Yixing breathes. “They took my baby.”

There is a dangerous glint in the dancer’s eyes as he in a deep breath.

“The pranking club must pay.”