Daehyun considers himself lucky.

He’s not the most fortunate, he supposes, having come from a small family and an even smaller budget, but he’s made the most of it. He pays his own way through college as best as he can. Somehow, he had worked his way into an internship at a private conservatory, backed by the stunning recommendations from professors at his own school. He works as an assistant to various vocal instructors all five days of the week before and after classes. The money he makes is a handsome sum for a college student, but it’s only just enough to cover dormitory, food, and a part of his tuition. He has a scholarship to pay off at least half the rest of the tuition costs, but has loans to manage the rest.

He’s loath to ask for money from home. His mother, left all alone after his father’s death, has enough trouble to handle. She doesn’t need the added worry of whether her son is feeding himself properly. A few meals skipped during the week won’t hit him too hard, but it can go a long ways toward his budget, Daehyun thinks.

Daehyun often stays up late into the night to finish assignments he hasn’t had the chance to start due to his job. He sleeps little, eats little, but he’s happy. He sings until his throat is raw and throbbing, until his fingers tremble with a mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline, and it’s really all he needs, all he wants.

He’s been singing since before he could talk. Daehyun’s mother likes to tell about how he toddled around the tiny kitchen in his family’s home, clutching the one stuffed animal they’d been able to afford and giving tunes to garbled sounds. Daehyun has known from the start that all he wants to do is sing. He would give everything for his dream. He’s trying to finish university as quickly as possible, taking on a heavy course load and classes during the summer. He doesn’t even remember the last time he visited home. He wants to go back so badly that sometimes it feels like he can’t breathe here in the city, like the pollution and the cage-like buildings sit on his lungs and slowly poison him. He’s reined himself in until the thick accent he’d picked up from Busan never slips through, until he’s avoided the sun to the point that he’s scrubbed himself nearly clean of the dark tan he’d had from the beach sun. He’s not so loud anymore, shrinks in with the rest of the populace and forces himself to forget how to smile in a way that shows all his teeth.

If he thinks about it, Daehyun isn’t even sure if he wants his mother to see what he’s done to himself. He’s sure she won’t think it healthy, will just fret over his condition more. So, each and every time he feels the unbearable nausea of homesickness, Daehyun reminds himself of how far he’s come, and resolves to stay cooped up in this city for as long as it will take.

.

Yongguk is asleep when Daehyun tiptoes into the room. It’s past midnight, and the on-campus library has finally kicked him out. Through no small amount of begging, the student librarian in charge of the night shift had given Daehun an extra half hour past the library’s closing time at twelve. Daehyun would have to fork over some money for a thank-you-coffee sometime, but he had really needed the extra time to finish work on an essay. Daehyun tugs off his shirt and pants as quietly as possible and slides in between the covers of his bed without bothering to find a sleeping shirt. He shifts, trying to get comfortable, and feels something dig into his skin. He pulls out a wad of paper that he instantly recognizes to be a crane, just from the feeling of the paper. Yongguk must have picked it up from the floor and put it in his bed earlier.

Daehyun grapples for his phone, which he’d shoved under his pillow, and turns on the screen. In the dim light the device emits, he can see that the crane is a rich, dark green. He peeks under the wing, more out of habit than out of expecting to find something there. He’s surprised to see that instead of the usual number, the familiar handwriting has once again taken on the shape of words. He pulls the crane apart as quickly as he dares, glancing at the other side of the room when Yongguk rolls over. Light from his phone screen glosses over the blue ink as Daehyun reads the note.

#56: You probably have a lot of questions. If you’re reading this.

I study piano. I don’t know you, except for your name, but I’ve heard you sing. To me, that’s all I really need to know.

I can give you a little bit more information about me, I suppose.

I like to watch people. I like to pretend that I can read them, and I have the bad habit of classifying people into different groups. I watched you a few times before, when we were in the same class our freshman year. You never sat in the same place because you didn’t have someone to sit with. Did you know? You wear your heart on your sleeve.

I hope I haven’t offended you by saying that. I don’t think I meant it as a bad thing.

I also have a bit of a problem with the sky. I can’t ever decide whether I love it or I hate it.

It’s nice to talk to someone like this. Thanks for listening.

.

Daehyun wakes up at six in the morning to the quiet buzzing of his phone. It’s the first of five alarms set on the device. He can’t say he wakes up too easily, but this time is an exception. Daehyun uses the extra hour he has won to jump in the showers before the rest of the building rises. When he gets back to his room, Yongguk, too, is stirring to wakefulness. “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,” Yongguk had once preached to him.

The note from the evening before lay half under his pillow, fresh creases in the paper from Daehyun sleeping on it. He purses his lips and straightens it as best he can before sticking it with the other one in his sock drawer. He had fallen asleep thinking about the note and its messenger. Daehyun would bet money that the sender is a male. Their communication is entirely one-sided, but Daehyun wants to get to know this person. He ponders the benefits of sending a response back.

Before he can second-guess himself, Daehyun reaches for scratch paper and a pen, and tears the scratch paper into as even a square as he can manage. He pulls up a tutorial on how to fold a crane and follows it the best that he can. It’s only by the time that he has a very sloppy bird in the palm of his hand that he realizes that he’s forgotten to include a message. He also hasn’t thought of how to deliver the crane, with neither the knowledge of a dorm room number nor a name to whom he should address it. Yongguk returns from his own shower just then, and throws a more professional crane at Daehyun’s head. It falls on his thigh, and he stares at it. He’s sure there wasn’t one inside the room before, and no one had slipped it in while he was inside. Yongguk had to have gotten it from someone.

“So you know who’s been sending these!” Daehyun exclaims, accusatory. Yongguk lifts a shoulder in a shrug, as if he’s too lazy to lift both of them. “Who is it?”

“It’s not my business to tell,” Yongguk says calmly.

“Tell me,” Daehyun demands petulantly.

“Truth is, I don’t actually know who he is. I just know his face,” Yongguk counters. He slips on a ragged pair of jeans under his bathrobe.

“So it is a guy,” Daehyun states triumphantly. Yongguk again shrugs a shoulder—the other one, this time. Daehyun sighs. He fishes tape from his backpack and rips off a long piece. Daehyun packs his textbooks and dresses quickly, arranging his still wet hair with a quick brush through. As he’s leaving, patting his back pocket to make sure that his phone is in there, he tapes his mess of a crane to the side of the door facing out into the hallway. Yongguk catches the action, and before he can say something, Daehyun shuts the door, the tips of his ears burning.

a/n: Some of you may have noticed that there is now a himup tag to this story. I... couldn't resist. OTL

Also!! LOOK AT THAT BEAUTIFUL POSTER. (see foreword) Once again, thank you to Daydreaming Graphic Shop for the lovely graphics, I couldn't be more pleased! :D

And ofc HAPPY BIRTHDAY JELLO <33
-Jess