But,

Jongup knows.

“Have you seen the new kid? She’s totally your type,” Jongup nudged, dropping his lunch tray next to him. He hadn’t quite mastered the art of packing his own lunch, and anyway, putting up with the school’s ty nutritional choices would strengthen his character. Or something.

Youngjae gritted his teeth. “Yujin’s not my type.”

“What, dark-haired, smart, way too gorgeous for her own good?” Jongup arched his eyebrows meaningfully and added an elbow to Youngjae’s gut for good measure.

That hurt.

Youngjae was suddenly preoccupied with his sandwich. “Now, you’re just fishing, Jongup.”

“Hey, you ‘pretended’ you were dating me for a full month, I am allowed to wrangle compliments out of you.”

Jongup broke out a pre-calculus textbook then, and they sat there in companionable silence, only interrupted by the occasional grunt from Jongup as he worked through the problems. Youngjae could almost pretend Jongup didn’t throw him a coy smile when Youngjae tracked your movements across the cafeteria.

Youngjae pretended so well he almost believed the younger boy didn’t.

Junhong knows.

Youngjae had never been particularly close to Junhong, but he knew about that boy in theory. He was cool, loyal in a way that Youngjae admired. Where Youngjae often doubted he deserved the attention given to him, Junhong—well, he deserved more than he got.

And he definitely deserved more than he got when he suddenly fell prey to the stomach virus going around school, forcing you to pair up with Youngjae instead.

Youngjae barely suppressed a self-satisfied fist pump.

“Hi.” Youngjae stuck out a hand as he made his way to your desk at the back of the lab. You’d chosen a seat just out of their teacher’s field of vision. “I’m Youngjae?”

You continued to stare straight ahead. It was ridiculous, really, how much vexation one person could elicit in Youngjae. From this angle, Youngjae could catch a hint of green earphones stuck in your ears, covered by the hood of your jacket.

Youngjae sighed.

Well, here goes, he thought, before plucking them out.

You jolted upright, glancing in every which way. When your frantic eyes lighted on Youngjae, they squinted.

“What do you want?” you hissed, and oh wow, that voice should not be this attractive. You were wearing a too-big old denim jacket today, and if Youngjae was in his right mind, he would’ve figured out that the jacket wasn’t exactly yours. It hung off your thin frame, making you seem even skinnier. All angles and bones Youngjae wanted to run his hands over, just to see if they were as sharp as they seemed, or if you were hiding something soft underneath the prickly exterior.

“You’re not allowed to have earphones out at school,” Youngjae quipped and then winced. Here he was, Yoo Youngjae, all-around good kid and extreme idiot.

Your eyes held all the makings of a challenge, leaning back in your seat. “What? Are you going to report me?”

Youngjae cocked his head. “According to the administration, we’re all hiding drugs underneath our hats. So, I may have to. You know, for everyone’s well-being and all.”

You blinked before cracking a gun-shy smile. Youngjae took it as an invitation to dump his own lab notebook down next to yours. While his cover was blank and boring, yours were splattered in elaborate designs and doodles, drawn in with permanent marker, and oh- was that a picture of Professor Kang? Even with the blunt head of the marker, you managed to capture a remarkable likeness.

“You draw?” Youngjae asked.

You flinched, flipping your notebook on its front before Youngjae could blink. “No.”

Perhaps there was more to you than Youngjae thought.

Professor Kang had another lab scheduled the following day, but when Youngjae got to class, he saw Junhong milling around your desk, waiting for the signal to move to the lab tables in the back. Youngjae’s heart dropped to his stomach. When he dragged his feet over to Hana’s desk, she shot him a questioning look. Youngjae’s gaze shifted over to you and Junhong longingly, but you didn’t seem to notice.

Junhong, however, was a different story.

When his eyes met Youngjae’s, they widened almost imperceptibly. Youngjae wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t braced for a reaction. The quirk of his lips held the barest hint of sneakiness, and when Youngjae matched his stare, the boy grinned.

“You know what?” Junhong said, loudly enough for both you and Youngjae to hear, “I think I’m going to work with Hana today.”

That left Youngjae with you, who looked even more wrong-footed with each passing minute.

“I guess we should start,” nodded Youngjae.

You frowned. He could feel himself wilting under your gaze. “Sure,” you muttered, “Let’s get started.”

Professor Kang knows.

To everyone’s surprise, they worked well together. Youngjae had expected clash, fire, maybe even a moment where he’d be tempted to stuff a rag soaked in ammonia into your face. But where Youngjae refused to take the lead, you picked up the slack. He could tell you weren’t suited for leadership–you wore it just as ill-fitting as your own monochrome clothes.

The first time you took charge with a chromatography lab, Youngjae had to physically restrain himself before he leaped over the countertop and hugged you. You gave him a shaky smile in return and said quietly, “Just soak the paper in alcohol, Youngjae. You’re getting lazy.”

The next time Professor Kang made his rounds to your countertop, watching Youngjae’s body bent over yours as you two heated some copper oxide, he only shook his head, smiling.

Himchan knows.

They’d been chugging along up until then, somewhere between friends and acquaintances. It became harder and harder to say no to you, especially when you blinked those dark eyes at Youngjae. Youngjae had always harboured a soft spot for underdogs. Jongup told him he had a hero complex, Himchan said he just wanted to get in your pants, but Youngjae thought you were simply fascinating, from the scuffed toes of your converse to the dark-tone jacket you always hugged tight around your body, even when you had no need for it.

Jongup warned him against it, of course, he’d always been a better judge of character than he was.

“You’ll scare her off,” he said when the older boy proposed the idea. Flicking a piece of notebook paper at him, Jongup continued, “Are you prepared for that?”

Youngjae only shook his head naively, maybe, but Jongup would chalk it up to sheer idiocy. “I think we’re friends now.”

You’ve long since perfected the art of running. The best way to do it would be slowly, to ease you into the idea.

The titration that day had been particularly strenuous, and sometime between spilling another flask of sodium hydroxide and over-titrating the acetic acid, Youngjae seemed to have lost his mind. As he slumped back against the counter, sweat matting the hair to his forehead, he blurted it out with no preamble.

“So, I was thinking, Daehyun’s throwing a party, nothing big, do you think you’d want to come?” Youngjae said in a rush.

You avoided his eyes. “…J-Jung Daehyun?”

Youngjae could tell what you were thinking. Jung Daehyun, the guy with a big mouth? Small party?

“He’s not so bad, I swear.” Out of the corner of Youngjae’s eye, you winced, hands in fists. This was a mistake. Their flasks stood unwashed on the table, and Youngjae focused on them instead of the bitter disappointment settling in his gut. He’d been so sure their budding friendship outweighed your reluctance to ‘socialise’.

Evidently not.

“Look, um, Youngjae, you don’t have to be my friend,” you drawled.

Youngjae only scrubbed harder on the flask. “I know, but what if I want to be?”

“I’m not– I’m messed up in the head.”

Just pour the dissolved water, Youngjae. “You’re a junior in high school, you’re kind of supposed to be.”

“You just want to fix me.”

“Do I look like the male protagonist of some romance novel?”

“I hate Daehyun,” you hissed, a little desperately, as if that would turn Youngjae away. Like, Youngjae’s people-person mind wouldn’t be able to understand or something.

“Cool, me too.” Youngjae shrugged.

You blinked. “But-” With your head cocked to the side, you looked like a confused puppy, though Youngjae wasn’t sure how much you’d like the comparison. You sighed, “You know what? Never mind. I’ll come.”

A clatter came from the back of the room, jolting both of you out of the silence that settled over them. Himchan crouched on the ground over a broken flask, and from the look in his eyes, Youngjae could tell he’d heard every word.

“Don’t mind me,” he smirked, “I’m just cleaning up.”

Sunwha knows.

Maybe Youngjae was really just one big teenage cliche in the body of an all-rounded, stereotypical cool clique kid, but at least that meant he’d end this particular movie riding off into the sunset with his equally young and attractive love interest. Or something.

He was surprised you had even agreed, honestly. Sure, they’d been building up their friendship lately, and you even managed to step out of your comfort zone a little, hanging out with Youngjae’s ‘friends’ instead of communing with the dead or whatever it was you did in your spare time.

But the unspoken words still hung between him and you like a layer of tension, threatening to spill.

Still, you’ve got a thing for zombie movies, and Youngjae’s got a thing for you, so here both of you were, caught in between friendship and something more.

If only Youngjae could define his love life away from Sunwha.

“What would you like?” Sunwha droned with practiced cordiality, not looking up as Youngjae approached the counter. , Sunwha worked here. Youngjae’d forgotten. They had history he’d rather not dredge up again, and definitely not here, with you standing only five feet away.

Sunwha’s eyes widened when she saw Youngjae standing in front of her. “Didn’t know you even liked this theater, Jae-ah.”

Youngjae shrugged. “Maybe I’m trying something new.”

Sunwha’s gaze shifted to the side where you were approaching, two packs of gummy bears in your hands. She smirked, and Youngjae felt his blood run cold. “Trying something new, huh?” Sunwha nodded curtly at you and a coy wink.

Your face turned a bright shade of red. “I’m not, we’re…” you ruffled your hair, blushing to the tips of your ears, turning your head sideways in a boyish manner. “Yeah,” you finished eloquently.

“Really?” Sunwha urged. “Not even a little?”

“No!” You backed off, two hands raised defensively.

Sunwha gave Youngjae a pointed raise of her eyebrows. Youngjae refused to rise to the bait.

Both of you spent movie time in silence, only broken by your detached, “Can you pass the popcorn?”

Jieun knows.

“The art of wooing is subtle,” Jongup said when Youngjae asked him for advice. In retrospect, maybe this was a bad idea. Jongup was more full of ’don’t do this!’ than practical advice, and the biggest ’don’t’ on the list was apparently ‘don’t be Youngjae!’

Jongup rolled his eyes. “You have to handle it with subtlety and expertise, both of which you lack.”

Subtle. Youngjae could do subtle.

Three days and a poetry assignment later, Jieun forced him to take it back.

“It was subtle!” he hissed, somewhat pointlessly. He ducked his head behind the stack of textbooks, but Jieun took none of his .

“You could have picked any poem to analyse, and you go with Pablo Neruda.” Jieun threw her hands up in defeat. “Are you even trying?”

“It’s famous, Yujin won’t know I picked it for…less than academic reasons.”

Jieun snatched the paper from Youngjae before reading aloud, her voice crystal in the silence of the library. “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.” She threw the paper back to Youngjae. “Neruda, wow, you really are the epitome of the dorkiest of the cool kids.”

Hana knows.

“I heard you’re wooing Yujin,” Hana said when she called.

Youngjae leaned against the kitchen counter, absentmindedly thumbing through his planner. Hana had insisted he get one to keep his school assignments in order, but he never used it before planning his and your study date. The meeting was written down in permanent marker and circled to boot, not that he’d actually forget.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Youngjae.

“I didn’t know you had a thing for unfriendly unsmiling complicated hipsters.”

Youngjae only sighed, and there was a pause before Hana perked up again, “If you ever manage to win her over, we could double date!”

“You don’t even have a boyfriend.”

“Stop crushing my soul, ,” Hana bit, slamming the phone down with a resolute bang.

Yongguk knows.

He knew he would’ve to deal with family eventually, but he didn’t know it would come so early. Still, as soon as Yongguk cornered him during lunch that day, he knew.

“She latches on to people, you know,” Yongguk told him. Youngjae paused where his fork hovered an inch from his mouth, but Yongguk either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Either way, he dropped his textbooks down next to him, tucking himself into the corner where Youngjae had stolen away. “That’s just how she is.”

Yongguk stared at him expectantly through his dark bangs, and Youngjae’s breath caught in his throat. Your half-brother and you had the same penetrative eyes. “I’ve noticed.”

“When you asked why Yujin hates Daehyun…” Yongguk asked hesitantly. “She did tell you about Yongnam, right?” Youngjae nodded. You mentioned your dead brother once, during one of the rare moments you let something slip about your life. He’d died the year before in a car accident where he hadn’t even been driving.

You looked down at your feet then, hugging your too-big jacket tighter around yourself. “The last thing I told him was I hated him for going out that night,” you said weakly.

Youngjae hadn’t known what to do. You hated being touched, but Youngjae wanted to tuck you into the crook of his shoulder and hug the out of you until you felt whole again, or somewhere close.

But you made the choice for him. You leaned into Youngjae’s side, just a slight press of your body at first, until Youngjae wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you near, letting his warmth invade your body.

A long lost memory in Youngjae’s mind flickered. Daehyun had also been in a car accident last year.

Oh, .

Yongguk flashed him a grim smile, as he watched realisation flashed across Youngjae’s face.

He continued to play with the silver ring on his middle finger before muttering, “She loved him a lot. Yongnam. Loves him. I learnt to live without him, but she– well, Yujin never did. And I just–“ Yongguk in a raspy breath, meeting Youngjae’s gaze head-on. “I care about her a lot, even when she doesn’t know it. Especially, when she doesn’t know it. She doesn’t care about anybody much, but she does care about you so,” he chuckled mirthlessly, “don’t waste that, kid. I know I wouldn’t.”

Daehyun knows.

“So you’re dating Yujin, right?” said Daehyun in English the next day. You were absent, and Youngjae had to be grateful for small miracles.

Youngjae only grunted in response, letting his silence speak for him.

Leaning over to Youngjae’s desk, Daehyun propped his chin on his hand. “Any recommendations?”

Youngjae chucked a textbook at Daehyun’s head. It connected with a satisfying crack.

Dr. Bang knows.

Youngjae had never been too keen on meeting your father. He’d heard tales about the man, and none of them particularly positive. Youngjae would like to live past the age of eighteen, thanks, and meeting Dr. Bang may come in the way of that goal, just a little. Hell, his name kind of said it all. If that wasn’t an ominous sign, Youngjae didn’t know what was.

Dr. Bang caught them slogging through homework one day, and even Youngjae wasn’t stupid enough to refuse the invitation to dinner, no matter how grudgingly it had been given. Besides, Youngjae could feel you paling beside him. Your body language said no, but the glint in your father’s eyes said challenge, and Youngjae had never been one to back down.

Like the little he was, Youngjae agreed almost immediately.

Thirty minutes into dinner, you excused yourself to the bathroom. Dr. Bang turned to Youngjae as soon as his daughter left the table, smile stretching over his face. “So you’re the kid who’s in love with my daughter,” he said. “Does she even know?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Youngjae took another stab at a meatball. Then added. “Sir.” He couldn’t be that obvious, could he?

Dr. Bang ignored Youngjae and continued to size him up. “I don’t like you, but at least you seem pretty harmless. Don’t break her heart.”

“Is there an ‘or else’ at the end of that? Sir?”

Dr. Bang grinned, baring all of his teeth. “Should there be?”

Hyosung knows.

Youngjae got the call before he slipped back from a quick trip to Seven-Eleven. Their mother hardly bought groceries these days—hardly did much of anything, really—and the fridge had been stripped bare for dinner the night before. Maybe Youngjae really was a bit of a sap, wanting to do something nice for you.

Dear lord, he was whipped.

“Youngjae, why the hell is there a sleeping wrecked-looking girl on our couch? And why is she wearing your pajamas?” Hyosung barked. “You didn’t…”

Youngjae rolled his eyes. As if he hadn’t caught Hyosung and her boyfriend doing worse around the house. “Nothing happened. She just needed a place to crash. Her dad’s out of town, and she didn’t want to be alone.”

“And she chose our house?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

You and Youngjae stayed up late the night before, working through the borrowed collection of Jieun’s tragedies and musicals. By the time La Vie Boheme came blasting through the TV, you even agreed to turn the volume up, singing the words along with the actors. Your pitch fell just shy of in-tune, but Youngjae loved it just the same. You smiled then, bright and grand and happy.

At Youngjae’s raised eyebrow, you elbowed his shoulder playfully. “Shut up.”

Youngjae was still grinning. “I didn’t say anything.”

He wondered if it was possible to be this in love with an absolute dork, but maybe both of you were destined for this, spending the rest of your lives in mutual dorkdom. Youngjae could live with that.

“It’s not that I don’t approve,” Hyosung said now. “I’ve just never seen you this invested in anyone before. Are you sure about this?”

Youngjae the sketch you slipped into his pocket at school the day before, with Youngjae as the leader of his own merry band of Argonauts bearing striking resemblances to his friends. The one to the side even had Daehyun’s stupid grin and was currently in the act of stuffing his face with Yongguk’s birthday cake. The Youngjae in the sketch wielded a gleaming sword, and when Himchan glanced over, asking if you’d drawn in a metaphor, you only flushed bright red.

“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything,” Youngjae replied.