Kai looks up in surprise at the boy who has come to stand next to their table. The boy is tall, dark hair swept back from his forehead, and he just spoke Korean. He also looks oddly familiar, but Kai can’t think of where he’s seen him before.

            “He must be a friend of Sehun’s from school,” Kai thinks to himself, taken aback by, but ignoring, the stab of jealousy the thought sends through his stomach.

            Then he glances at Sehun’s face, and if the expression Sehun is wearing, which is caught half-way between surprise and disgust, doesn’t tell him that he’s assumed wrong, then the next words out of Sehun’s mouth definitely do.

            “What do you want Kang-Dae?” Sehun asks, and Kai notices how Sehun’s no longer sprawled in his chair comfortably. He’s rigid, fingers clenched around his drink, the other hand pressing into the top of the table, back straight, face blank. The softness Kai sometimes sees in the curve of Sehun’s mouth, or in the way he glances at Kai, fast and shy, is absent, replaced with hard edges.

            Kai sits up straighter himself, the urge to move in front of Sehun spreading through his limbs, to hide him from the boy who is now smiling down at Sehun with a cruel curve to his lips.

            “Tsk, tsk,” the boy, Kang-Dae, says, eyes glinting with cold amusement, “you’re always so rude.”

            Sehun’s lips thin as he presses them together, not breaking eye contact with Kang-Dae.

            Kai watches as Kang-Dae’s eyes move from Sehun’s face to Kai, eyebrow raising in mock interest.

            “And who’s this?” he asks, giving Kai a brief once-over. Kai bristles inwardly, irritation beginning to prickle in his chest.

            “That’s none of your business,” Sehun replies before Kai can answer, and Kang-Dae looks back at him.

            “Oh Sehun,” he says, fists clenching at his sides despite the seemingly-friendly expression on his face, “everything that has to do with you is my business.”

            Sehun stands up, and Kai follows suit, wanting to stand closer to Sehun, but unable to because the table is in the way. Their drinks sit forgotten on the table.

Nearby customers are beginning to stare at the three boys.

            “Come on,” Sehun says to Kai, pushing his chair farther back with his foot. “We’re leaving.”

            Sehun moves to push past Kang-Dae, but the other boy’s hand whips out, fingers latching onto Sehun’s shirt front, crumpling the fabric in his fist.

            “Leaving so soon?” Kang-Dae says, anger finally lacing his tone. “Don’t you want to finish what we started the other day?”

            Sehun shoves Kang-Dae back with both palms on his shoulders before Kai can react, and the boy’s grip loosens on his shirt.

            “Move, Kang-Dae,” Sehun growls.

            Kai isn’t sure what the history is between the two, but he doesn’t care. The irritation he had felt earlier is gone, replaced with resentment towards the boy who treats Sehun like he belongs to him. Nobody owns anyone, ever.

            So when Kang-Dae takes a step forward, back towards Sehun, Kai quickly slips in between the two, eyes hard.

            “Move,” Kai says, repeating Sehun’s words, his voice softer, but just as dangerous.

            Kang-Dae looks surprised for a fleeting second, eyes widening marginally, before he smirks.

            “You know, I thought I recognized you earlier,” Kang-Dae says, eyes moving over Kai once more, an arrogant curve to his mouth. “You’re that dancer, Kai, right? The one that competes in all of those competitions with your talentless friend.”

            Kai feels anger course through his veins at the mention of Yixing, a growl crawling up his throat. Saying Yixing is talentless is like saying that the world isn’t round. And now Kai recognizes Kang-Dae too. He’s not sure how he missed it before.

            Kang-Dae’s competed in the same competitions as Kai, but the two have somehow never competed against each other. Kai remembers watching Kang-Dae and his two friends perform, in awe at first at their skill, but later, in disgust when Yixing had told him the group was suspected of paying off the judges.

            “I’ve seen you dance before too,” Kai says, suddenly aware that Sehun is behi