Hey my lovely readers<3 I know it's been a really long time since I last updated, and I apologize, but it's been insanely busy with school and med school apps and life in general... Thanks for sticking with me and being patient *Hugs all of you* I hope you enjoy this chapter *^.^*

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Yixing lounges back in his seat, earphones plugged in, a drink between his hands.

The Starbucks is pretty crowded at the moment, especially since the temperature outside has dropped below zero, a chill tangible even inside, but Yixing can’t really hear the rumble of conversation, or the whirring of the machines as orders are prepared.

      He’s too focused on the notes playing through his ears, dance choreography running through his head, trying to get some work done for tomorrow.

      He almost can’t believe that he’s in his last year at Tisch School of Arts. It seems like yesterday that he was in his final year of high school.

      But Yixing doesn’t have time to think about that. If he doesn’t have a choreography planned for tomorrow’s class, he’s going to have some disgruntled students and an angry boss.

      Yixing is so focused that he doesn’t even notice a certain person enter the café, looking around until he spots Yixing and makes his way over.

      “Hey,” Jongdae says, teeth flashing as he grins, when Yixing’s eyes snap up to meet his, the latter startling a little before he pulls his earphones out.

      Yixing scowls unconsciously, and Jongdae blinks, still slightly unused to the other’s animosity.

      Jongdae’s not really sure what it is about him that turns Yixing away so quickly, that brings up the walls and locks him out.

      But he decides to worry about it later, shrugging off the self-doubt along with his winter coat and taking a seat across from Yixing.

      “So,” Jongdae begins, crossing his arms and leaning across the table, “where are we having lunch?”

Sehun sighs, dropping his pencil onto the table.

            He’s done with homework, and not because he’s finished, but because if he stares at his textbook much longer, he’s going to scream.

            A tiny mewl near his shoulder sounds suddenly, and Sehun turns to find Sparrow curled up on one of the couch cushions, large, golden eyes blinking at him sleepily.

            Sehun smiles, reaching out to scratch gently behind the kitten’s ears, rewarded by purring a few seconds later.

            With Kai gone at work, Sehun had been trying to finish some homework so that he could spend some time with his boyfriend when he got home.

            But his motivation has been slowly decreasing, and right now, all Sehun wants to do is curl up and sleep with Sparrow.

            “I’m going to go take a nap,” Sehun whispers to Sparrow, who’s already snoozing again.

            Sehun laughs lightly, standing up and stretching out sore muscles, and then walking towards the bedroom.

            He stretches out on Kai’s bed, curling into the comforters, cold from the short walk, making a mental note to put socks on later.

            And then he’s slipping into unconsciousness, the heaviness of sleep blanketing him in warmth.

Kris looks up as the bell above the door jingles, the smell of pumpkin spice lattes and gingerbread strong in the air.

            A customer strolls in, wrapped in about a million scarves, and Kris frowns.

            Surely one person doesn’t need that many scarves, even if it is supposed to be one of the coldest days since winter began.

            Beside Kris, Kai laughs, jotting down someone’s name on their order with a Sharpie.

            Kris glances at his employee, and Kai just shrugs, giving him a pointed look before he walks away.

            “What?” Kris thinks.

            And then a very familiar voice is speaking in front of him, and Kris mentally slaps himself.

            Of course.

            Of course he came back.

            And of course he’s an idiot who wears too many scarves.

            “What’s the special today, gorgeous?”

            Kris’s eyes shift back to the customer in front of him, who’s now taken off at least three of his scarves and is flashing a set of white teeth at him, nose red from the cold outside.

            Kris sighs in exasperation.

            “The usual?” he asks Chanyeol, who looks pleased that Kris remembers.

            How could Kris forget what Chanyeol always orders at Starbucks if he’s in here almost every day?

            When Chanyeol continues to beam at him instead of answer his question, Kris sighs again, turning away to fix the double shot espresso that Chanyeol is always nursing in his right hand.

            “So,” Chanyeol suddenly says, following Kris down the counter, eyes bright, “how has your day been?”

            Kris closes his eyes briefly, praying for patience. He’s learned that if he just answers Chanyeol’s ridiculous questions, the other will eventually leave. If he doesn’t, than Chanyeol tends to stick around until he does.

            And Chanyeol asks the weirdest questions. Like what Kris’s favorite color is, or if he prefers sleeping with or without socks on.

            “Great,” Kris says in a monotone, switching on one of the coffee machines.

            Out of his periphery, he can just see Kai smirking at the pair of them, and he resists the urge to throw a handful of coffee beans that way.

            It’s going to be a long day.

Yixing kicks at a rock with his boot, watching it bounce away, rolling a few times before it stops.

            He’s not sure how he managed to get here, walking through Central Park with Jongdae, the two of them silent besides the occasional comment about how cold it is, or how the squirrels seem extra friendly today.

            They had stopped by a small café earlier, grabbing sandwiches and steaming cups of coffee, Jongdae trying to make small talk.

            But Yixing isn’t in the mood for small talk.

            He wants to give Jongdae his dance tutorial and get out.

            Quick and simple.

            So once Jongdae says something about how it might snow today for the second time, Yixing stops walking, turning to the other.

            “So what did you want me to teach you?” he asks, trying to not sound too brusque.

            If he can just hold onto his temper for the next hour, he should be in the clear.

            Yixing isn’t even sure why he gets so angry, so irritated whenever he’s around Jongdae.

            Like when the shorter flashes him that voltage smile, or when he laughs at something Yixing said even if Yixing didn’t think it was funny.

            It makes him want to walk away, to get as far away from Jongdae as possible.

            Jongdae blinks at him now, something he seems to do often, as if he’s caught off guard by something, like he’s confused.

            “Ummm,” Jongdae starts, stepping to the side to let two bikers pass by, the sounds of the park filtering past them with the rush of air. “I just wanted you to share any pointers you might have, you know, anything that helps you dance better.”

            Yixing bites the inside of his cheek, watching the cold wind blow Jongdae’s bangs off of his forehead.

            “Okay,” he starts. He can do this, can give Jongdae a few tips, say goodbye, and go home. “Come on.”

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