“He’s what?” Yixing asks for the millionth time, sprawled out in the middle of the dance floor.

            Kai sighs, turning his head from where he’s laid out across the couch to look at his friend.

            “He’s competing with us Xing,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’ve told you the whole story, like, a billion times now.”

            “Yeah, I know. I’m just having a hard time comprehending the fact that you signed us up for one of the biggest, and most difficult, street dance competitions in all of New York City without telling me. And that you’ve also added a new member to our humble dance crew. Also without telling me, you idiot.”

            Kai snorts at Yixing’s offended tone, knowing that his best friend can’t stay mad at him for long.

            “And we’re supposed to be competing against Kang-Dae,” Yixing continues, sitting up, brown hair curling over his eye. “Kai, you’ve seen him dance. You’ve seen his crew dance. They don’t joke around.”

            Kai sits up as well. “I know. But I also know that you’re one hell of a dancer, and so am I. I’m not sure about Sehun, but if he doesn’t pass your standards, then I’ll just ask him to let us compete alone. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

            Yixing stares at Kai for a second, studying him. Then he sighs and shakes his head. “Fine. When do we start?”

            Kai glances at his phone. “Right now,” he says.

            Yixing’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “You just got off of work,” he begins, staring at Kai’s jeans and t-shirt. But before he can continue, the buzzer to his apartment rings.

            Yixing freezes, all straight lines, before his eyes flit to Kai’s, understanding dawning on his face. “You already invited Sehun here, didn’t you?” he asks, but Kai is already flinging himself off of the couch and moving over to the speaker, shoes squeaking against the floor.

            “I’ll go get changed then,” Yixing mumbles, standing up and stretching before disappearing into his bedroom.

            Kai presses the speaker button. “Hey, I’ll let you up,” he says, not giving Sehun time to announce himself before he presses the door button.

            “Okay,” Sehun just has time to mutter before Kai lets his finger off of the button.

            Yesterday, after Sehun had announced that he wanted to compete with Kai and Yixing, Kai had accompanied Sehun back to Starbucks, the two of them riding the subway in equal parts silence and small talk, both of them more preoccupied with their thoughts than with conversation. Kai had told Sehun to come to Yixing’s apartment the next day for dance practice, because, honestly, they had to get started as soon as possible. And Sehun had nodded, determination present in the way he held himself and in his eyes, which had lingered on Kai’s before he had turned to leave.

            Kai shakes himself from the memory.

            And then he is grabbing his backpack off of the couch and running to the guest bathroom, not bothering to lock the door as he strips his work clothes off and changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt, trying to ignore the frantic beating of his heart as he glances at himself in the mirror.

            And all he can think of as he stares at his ruffled hair and flushed cheeks is the fact that Sehun is currently coming up to Yixing’s apartment to learn to dance. To learn to dance with Kai.

            A memory flits through Kai’s mind suddenly. “Dance? That’s what you plan on doing? As long as you’re under this roof, you’ll obey my orders!”

            Kai’s fists clench in his t-shirt, squeezing so hard he can feel the bite of his fingernails against his skin.

            “Ugh, stop it,” Kai mumbles at himself, before he splashes some cold water on his face before exiting the bathroom, work clothes strewn across the floor, backpack thrown over the sink counter.

            Just as he reaches the living room, there’s a knock at the front door, and Yixing appears out of his bedroom, dressed similarly to Kai. “I’ll get it,” he says, and Kai stays where he is, watching as Yixing grabs the door handle and swings the door open.

            Kai watches as Sehun blinks in surprise when he comes face-to-face with Yixing, who leans against the doorframe.

            “Welcome to my humble abode,” Yixing says, gesturing Sehun forward with his arm. “Again.”

            Kai stifles a grin against his hand, watching Sehun mumble something incoherent before he sidles past Yixing, clutching his camera bag, which he seems to carry around everywhere, closer to his side.

            Yixing watches him pass like a cat, eyes bored, looking too full of himself for his own good.

            Sehun glances up, sees Kai, manages to murmur a greeting.

            Kai takes in Sehun’s appearance as Yixing closes the front door and moves over to the couch, throwing himself down.

            Sehun’s normal wardrobe of skinny jeans and graphic t-shirts is gone, replaced with a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt that’s a little too big on him, hanging from his shoulders and exposing the sharp lines of his collarbones. He runs a hand through his hair, the rainbow-colored strands sticking up a little.

            Kai forces himself to look away, moving to sit on the couch by Yixing instead, and ignoring his friend’s pointed gaze.

            Sehun fidgets in front of the two of them, his eyes glancing around the apartment before the settle on Kai and move away again, just as fast.

            Sehun is starting to think that offering to dance with Kai and Yixing was a bad decision. He feels exposed here, under the scrutiny of the two gazes, wearing a t-shirt that keeps slipping down one shoulder. He couldn’t find anything else when he rolled out of bed this morning, bleary-eyed and thinking about the school day ahead of him. He had been running late for his first class, so he had shoved whatever he had grabbed first into his backpack to change into later, before chugging down a cup of coffee and taking a bite out of a half-eaten bagel from the previous night, and sprinting out of the front door.

            Drinking coffee had been a bad idea.

            The caffeine had mixed with his nervousness for dance practice, all of it swirling in his stomach like acid. Sehun had felt electrified all day, jumpy, jittery, the film in his hands quivering when he tried to hang it up to dry in the darkroom.

            And when Sehun had seen Kang-Dae right before he had left campus, he had nearly shouted out Kai’s answer, sprinting across the lawn to get to the street so that he could hail a cab.

            He hadn’t even seen Kang-Dae’s expression, or heard the other boy answer. He hadn’t told Kang-Dae that he would also be competing along with Kai and Yixing. That was probably best kept a secret.

            And Sehun had decided to walk rather than take a cab. Maybe the exercise would drain him of some of the energy that made his head pound and his stomach clench and his tongue dry.

            Yixing is the first to speak, breaking Sehun away from his thoughts.

            “So, as I have been so beautifully informed by Kai, we are competing in the The New York City Battle street dance competition,” he says, stretching backwards over the couch lazily, the setting sun painting his hair gold.

            The image Kai and Yixing make sitting on the couch would be a startling photo Sehun thinks. The sun is casting sparks in Kai’s darker hair, making it glint, and both boys’ faces are edged with shadows, graceful arms and legs and