----

His mind just won't shut up. One moment he is thinking about sales targets this month, the new market research campaign for the following month, and the next moment he is counting the blackened spots in the ceiling, wondering how they got there and listing off potential cleaning products to erase those marks.

He tosses his blankets off, wearing only a flimsy green tank top and boxers in bed. Despite the AC going full blast his body feels unbearably hot. Palming himself through his shorts doesn't help relieve the heat and instead he remains unsatisfied and painfully aware of the growing embarrassment raking through his body. He curls up to the colder side of the bed and squeezes his eyes closed.

Please sleep. Please go back to sleep. His thoughts start to wander after his nth attempt to repeat those words.

What is the success rate of using the same mantra all over again?

Should he take up meditation to calm his mind?

Was he ill?

He doesn't know where to identify the problem. His mind is too loud. He turns to the other side of the bed, shifting closer to the wall and bumps his knees against the surface. After much tossing and turning, he feels like a weight has settled upon his head, weighing down his mind.


*


"Sshhhh. He's finally asleep."

"What did you do?"

"I just slipped some pills into his drink."

"Are you trying to kill him? Lu Han is allergic to a lot of medicine, including sleeping pills."

"Aw, damn. Then we should've gone with my plan, knocking him out cold. What should we do?"

"To the hospital of course! Get the car!"


*


Lu Han dreams of falling. He dreams of soaring. His stomach lurches in protest when he eventually dives into the air.


*


Wednesdays are days when Lu Han wakes up tangled in pink sheets, a standing fan blowing coarse wind into his face and the smell of week old laundry shoved in the basket underneath the bed. The AC had broken two days ago, leaving stale air lingering in the room, tickling Lu Han's nose in the one moment it decides to be sensitive. Pushing himself off the bed, he finally starts his morning ritual.

Lu Han checks the kitchen and right in the middle of the dinner table there's a pink Hello Kitty lunch box with a sticky note saying 'pick me' in his roommate's handwriting. He pops open the lid to see what his roommate has prepared for today and feels his mouth water at the sight of the neatly organized lunch with star-shaped carrots, octopus sausages, heart-shaped cucumbers and a grilled ham-cheese sandwich in the middle, with some leftover noodles from last night.

He promptly texts his roommate, filling the space with blinking hearts and kisses. He receives a reply right when he is ready to put his bag together, stuffing folders, pens and journal into one side and slipping a medium-sized notebook into the bigger compartment.

"Ew," Lu Han reads. "Who gave you the right to slobber me with cute emoticons?"

Wednesdays is when he and Yixing are still roommates, living in close quarters and sharing cooking duties - though he usually leaves the cooking to Yixing.

"Lazy," Yixing had called him, but he agreed to be the resident cook if Lu Han stops trying to make the microwave work differently than it was created for.


Lu Han is out of the apartment in fifteen minutes and jogs to the nearest bus station.

After a gruesome work day slaving behind numbers and reports, Lu Han trudges home with sagging shoulders. The earlier enthusiasm to meet his day head-on is no longer traceable in his demeanor. When he enters the apartment, the kitchen smells of home-made dumplings and roasted duck. Yixing peaks his head from the kitchen.

"Welcome back! You're just in time to taste my first ever dip sauce for the roasted duck." Yixing stops stirring in the small bowl and offers Lu Han a spoon to taste.

"It's good," Lu Han hums.

"Is it too salty?" Yixing worries his lower lip with his teeth.

Lu Han the spoon again and presses his lips to Yixing's own, transferring the taste along the tip of Yixing's tongue.

"How's that?"

Yixing smiles, his face looking deceptively lost. "I don't know. Let me try again." Lu Han sees the slight twitches in Yixing's smile and complies for another round of taste sharing.

Wednesdays are also days when Lu Han and Yixing are happily living together.


*


Mondays are about games. He is the memberof the school's regular soccer team. He is up at five, jogging the whole way to morning practice with a jam sandwich hanging out of his mouth and hoisting his sports bag on one shoulder. Those days he is focused on the bigger picture, sets higher goals and thinks of the one-time Manchester United signed shirt smelling moldy and stuffy in the back of his locker. Getting into the nationals is all he ever wants.

'Fighting' is a daily text message he gets during practice. He doesn't recognize the number. But he suspects it's probably from one of his many fans.

One of the members of the official soccer club, Minseok, gives him a concerned look. "Maybe you should change your number."

"It doesn't bother me." Lu Han shrugs as he puts his stuff into his locker.

"What if it's a stalker?"

"Why would anyone want to stalk a nobody of this team?"

Minseok sighs, bopping him lightly against the shoulder with his fist. "You're not a nobody, Lu Han. At least you're more popular than I am."

On Mondays, Lu Han spots Yixing with a camera hanging from his neck sitting next to the water bench. Yixing beckons Lu Han to come closer during practice. Lu Han refuses to acknowledge the signal at first, turning his attention to the other way. After another half hour of practice, Lu Han spots Yixing still sitting at the bench, occasionally raising the camera up to take random pictures of everyone in the field. But most of the time, Lu Han feels the lens is on him, following his every move, his every turn.

"Hey," Lu Han says awkwardly as he approaches Yixing. He has a towel over his neck.

"Lu Han!" Yixing beams at him, sparkly-eyed and standing to offer a handshake. "I'm doing an assignment for the newspaper club about the exceptional members of the school soccer team and I'm in charge of your edition."

"Why?" Lu Han blurts out. "I'm not interesting enough. I'm not even part of the regular line up."

"It doesn't matter." Yixing clutches his camera. "From what I've seen today, you're more than just a substitute player in the field. You have the ability to go beyond that."

"Do you even know what you're talking about?" Lu Han narrows his eyes and rests his hands on his hips.

"I just had a crash course about soccer last night, so I think I'm good to go." Yixing flashes him another smile, giving him a thumbs up. The way Yixing handles his interview, Lu Han is more than skeptical of Yixing's credibility being part of the newspaper club. Or his supposed knowledge about the game at hand. Yet for some reason, despite his growing irritation towards
Yixing's ignorance to the game Lu Han's blood has craved for since he entered high school, Lu
Han ends up asking Yixing out for coffee.

Not a date, he has emphasized. Just a meeting of two people to discuss further details about his beloved sport, of course. To punch in facts and the rules of the game into Yixing's head, he tries to convince himself.

Mondays are spent going out with Yixing, trying to convince him to study the sport more seriously.


*


Tuesdays are reserved for his girlfriend. He walks her to school, sometimes brings her along on his bicycle, her thin arms wound around his waist like a brace. His path down the road is straight, with no bumps, no holes, no ups and downs—as a petal rain showers over their heads at every turn.

"We're married every day," his girlfriend laughs. Lu Han laughs with her and thinks, this is all going to pass. He leaves her at her class and then wanders to his own class, bumping shoulders with his seatmate as a way of greeting.

His path is already decided. After high school, he will go abroad and finish his schooling in a foreign boarding school. Once he is graduated, he will come back, look for his girlfriend and ask her to marry him. When he turns thirty he might be running his family's business as head executive and he might just be a father of a six-year-old child.

His girlfriend hadn't waited for his return, though, despite her promise. She is engaged to some guy her parents had chosen. Lu Han's parents, in turn, have already lined up folders of potential girlfriends for Lu Han to pick out.

"We should elope," he says rather casually when he seeks her out.

She is crying and refuses. "What a cowardly way to face the music!"

After his remark, he never sees her again.

On Tuesdays, Lu Han remembers Yixing as the girl who got away.


*


Thursdays, Fridays and weekends are roughly the same with slight differences in the company he shares. Thursdays are Sehun's sessions on infinite and limit values of advanced calculus over bubble tea and then they go out, gossiping about noted strategies of last week's games.
Fridays are for Jongin, in front of the television as they battle it out cheering for opposing soccer teams. He is at Minseok's place in the weekends, planning to drag him out onto the field for a friendly rivalry soccer game.


*


It must be Friday. His calendar is scribbled with red notes and reminders.

Must go to Jongin. New game is on. Bring snacks! Bring drinks!

Lu Han checks the clock. Almost two in the afternoon. The game is going to begin soon. Lu Han jogs the whole way to Jongin's apartment, stopping only for a moment to buy snacks and a tray of beer. A quick fifteen minute walk later, he is at Jongin's door, kicking against the door as a form of knocking since his hands are full holding bags of food.

Lu Han is surprised when a short, slender boy dressed in too large black pajamas answers the door instead of Jongin. Thick tufts of hair are sticking wildly to one side, as if he has been in the process of combing the hair to resemble something not like a bird's nest. Round eyes are taking in Lu Han's appearance without a word. Lu Han shuffles self consciously under the surprisingly steely gaze.

"Uhm. Sorry. I got the wrong apartment." Lu Han stammers, hugging the grocery bag filled with snacks close to his stomach. He is about to back away, glances anxiously at the number on the door. Maybe he has picked the wrong number. He squints at it and stands his ground.

But this is Jongin's apartment.

"Lu Han, is it?"

"Yes." Lu Han scrutinizes the stranger now. He doesn't remember giving away his name to strangers like this one. "Who are you?"

"Do Kyungsoo." The boy doesn't offer a hand. "It seems like you've missed the memo."

"What memo?" Lu Han his head.

"That today there won't be any game watching. Didn't you receive a text message?"

"What are you saying? We always watch games together on Fridays."

"Well, not today."

"Where is Jongin?" Lu Han narrows his eyes at Kyungsoo.

"Still sleeping."

"Sleeping? This late? Wait, why are you in his apartment? His roommate left last month." Upon closer inspection, Lu Han finally recognizes the black pajamas belonging to Jongin. And when Lu Han angles his head a little to the right, he could spot a large angry red spot peeking from underneath the collar. Lu Han stares at Kyungsoo, who stares right back at him.

"Oh my God," Lu Han says, the realization slowly dawning on him.

"Indeed." Kyungsoo mutters.

"How long has it been going between you two?"

"None of your business." Kyungsoo slants an eye to him. Lu Han doesn't know whether to laugh or step away from this boy. Why was he hostile towards him?

"All right. All right. I get the message." Lu Han puts on his best smile. "You want Jongin all to yourself today."

"Yes." Kyungsoo answer is too immediate.

"Okay, I'm going." Lu Han squashes the disappointed feeling of missing the soccer game and turns on his heel, ready to go back home. "Congratulations," he manages to throw over his shoulder. He rounds the corner, seeing just a slight motion of Kyungsoo closing the door. Lu Han bites back a laugh before going back to his apartment to spend the night alone.


*


This is a memory.

Lu Han remembers the one time Jongin's team had beaten Lu Han's own. Jongin had whooped in joy and crowed out a random victory song, while dancing some strange popping and locking machine move. Jongin couldn't contain his excitement and simply swooped down and tackled Lu
Han on the couch, planting a big fat kiss on his mouth.

Lu Han had struggled against the kiss at first, surprised and disgusted, because Jongin was just a regular guy Lu Han went to whenever there is a game between their favorite soccer teams. A fuzzy flash of memory reminded Lu Han that he and Jongin had once rutted against each other on the couch in Jongin's living room.

Lu Han has almost forgotten they had done something like that after a game. They had promised not to talk about that night and Lu Han promptly pushed the memory to the very back of his mind. They still remained friends, watching games together on Fridays and squabbling about their own team's tactics and play in the field.

He thought perhaps Jongin had also forgotten about it. Lu Han was wrong though.

That night, as he plays video games with himself, consoling himself of missing the game of the century, Jongin has asked to meet downstairs.

"I think... I think I loved you, you know," Jongin confesses. Any thought processes running through Lu Han's mind screeches to a halt and he loosens his jaw.

"How long?" Lu Han manages to work his mouth.

Jongin shrugs. "Maybe since last year? Since we slept together for the first time."

Last year. Lu Han recalls the time and his face flushes immediately.

"That long? What about Kyungsoo?" He scrambles to say.

"I love him."

"Oh." Lu Han deflates, trying to calm his heart. "Why are you saying this now?"

"Because-" Jongin stops. "Because I need to do it for myself. I need to let you go. I was so frustrated. You were right there and you never even noticed me."

Lu Han stays silent for a while. An awkwardness that never existed before settles between them. "How did you and Kyungsoo meet?" He decides to break the ice, hoping the new topic might help their friendship.

A small smile appears o