Jonghyun thinks that AP Music Theory class is a crime of nature.

          Because only a crime of nature could somehow even turn one of the most beautiful concepts in the world, could turn one of Jonghyun’s most favorite things, could turn something Jonghyun is good at, into another forty-five minute nap time. Only he can’t even fall asleep comfortably because the class is held in the school’s piano lab and there’s nowhere to sleep in that unless you want the constant ringing of a D major chord ringing right next to your ear.

          Plus, that’s also the class he has with Hongki, and no one sleeps when Hongki’s around.

          Jonghyun’s just a little bit glad that at least Jonghun is in the class too. That way, at the very, very, very least, things can achieve some semblance of sanity because that’s what Jonghun is—he’s the normal to Hongki’s weird.

          The class wraps up early, as usual, and their teacher tells them that he’s going to go out early and they can all wait in the band room until the bell rings since he has to lock up the piano lab before he himself leaves. They all file out of the small room—Jonghyun bringing up the rear, Jonghun beside him, and Hongki zooming out with his arms outstretched, more or less kicking the doors of the band room agape.

          There’s no fifth period class in the music room, so the few girls in the AP Music class group off to the side, gathering around one of the chair clusters, sitting and talking quietly. The boys beside from Jonghyun, Jonghun, and Hongki move to the drums, fooling around on the percussion instruments that aren’t stored away in the cabinets.

          Hongki speed walks to the only piano in the music room, and upon reaching it stops abruptly and turns around to Jonghun. “I’m hungry,” he says. He reaches out and takes both of Jonghun’s hands in his—the third year corners him into the nook of the grand piano wordlessly.

          Jonghyun coughs and kicks the back of Jonghun’s shoe. “Get away from him, hyung,” Jonghyun says, disgruntled. “There’re people in the room and none of them want to throw up.”

          Jonghun draws away, smiling sheepishly at Jonghyun—but he still has one hand holding the edge of Hongki’s blazer. Hongki is grinning unabashedly and looks far too energetic for someone who supposedly had no breakfast. “You ,” the second year says, good-naturedly. “I heard you -block Doojoonie-hyung and Yoseobie-hyung, too.”

          Jonghyun sputters. “I’m not a -block,” he says. He looks to the Jonghun. “I’m not.”

          But of course all Jonghun does is raise his eyebrows, looking highly amused, that same quiet smile curving up his lips.

          It makes sense, really, why they are together—Choi Jonghun and Lee Hongki. Even Joon can make sense of it, and Joon rarely make sense of anything including his own self. Hongki is loud and hyper and energetic and when he and Joon are in the same room, the chaos and stupidity they create gives people who aren’t even in the room migraines. Jonghun is like the sedative to everything Hongki is—the whole opposites attract cliché.

          Only Jonghyun thinks it’s more of the only-person-on-the-face-of-the-earth-who-can-stand-him cliché.

          “That’s not what Junhyung-hyung tells me,” Hongki says, sitting down on the piano bench.

          “Well, you shouldn’t be hanging around him these days anyway,” Jonghyun says irritably. “You’re part of the reason the soccer team’s going through a crisis.”

          Hongki’s lower lip slides forward, his face falling into a pout. “No, I’m not,” he says, huffing. “Yoseob-hyung and I have nothing to do with their stupidity. We already talked about this.” He swings one of his legs up, nudging Jonghun’s knee with the tip of his shoe. “Heechul-hyung says that Junhyung-hyung and Hyunseung-hyung are tards for not making up.”

          “Because Heechul-hyung is a relationship guru,” Jonghyun says dryly.

          “He said he might be coming back here next year,” Hongki says thoughtfully.

          Jonghyun’s eyes bug, “To teach?”

          “Half of our school’s teachers are alumni,” Jonghun says.

          “Yeah—but Kim Heechul teaching?” repeats Jonghyun, because no one seems to understand the severity of this concept.

          “Since when does Heechul-hyung like kids?” Hongki laughs incredulously. “No—he says Hankyung-hyung’s thinking of filling in after the Mandarin teacher retires at the end of this year.”

          Jonghyun snorts. “Who the hell takes Mandarin?”

          “People who think English is overrated,” Jonghun says, smiling, and Jonghyun resists the urge to flip him off.

          Hongki stretches his arms up in the air and folds them behind his head. “I have no idea what you two are talking about,” he says. “I take Japanese.”

          “Yeah, and you fail at it,” Jonghyun says. “You can’t even order sushi right.”

          Hongki’s mouth falls open and his eyes go round. “I can too,” he says, voice rising defensively and Jonghun turns away laughing. Hongki stands up and slaps the third year’s back. “I can.”

          The bell rings right then and Jonghyun stands near the door, waiting for Jonghun and Hongki to get their backpacks back on. They are all in the same lunch period, along with Joon, Yonghwa, and Doojoon and usually go to meet them outside when the weather lets them and inside at their regular table otherwise.

          “I should’ve taken choir again,” Hongki says wistfully as they walk down the stairs. He bumps his side into Jonghun’s. “You should’ve taken guitar again.”

          “We wouldn’t have any classes together then,” Jonghun says with a small smile.

          “It’s not like you guys don’t make-out for three hours every day after school,” Jonghyun says. “No one wants you making eyes at each other while we’re trying to learn about augmented chords.” He huffs. “I should’ve taken choir again too. School can even make music annoying.”

          “You’re annoying,” Hongki says, grinning.

          Jonghyun snorts. “Oh—you’re witty.”

          Jonghun laughs.

          Lately Dongwoon thinks that the little man has been too happy.

          He’s been throwing parties nonstop and doesn’t seem to get the message even when Dongwoon stomps over his banners and rips his streamers and crushes his party hats. The little man seems to think that just because Kikwang has said that he doesn’t love Hyunseung anymore is the same thing as Kikwang saying that he’s now ready to fall in love with Dongwoon because it is clearly not the same thing and if this goes on any further, all that’s going to result is a lot more ruined party decorations.

          Unfortunately, whereas it used to be Dongwoon versus the little man, it’s now Dongwoon versus the little man and Kibum and Nicole.

          Soccer practice, because the weather has finally gotten cold enough that if Doojoon makes them go outside their coach could get fired, is at four-thirty these days as opposed to three-ten because the indoor field has to be opened and heated and only the coaches are allowed to do that—and the coaches don’t get to the school until much later in the day. This means that Dongwoon’s hyungs hang out in the front and Dongwoon hangs out with the ’91 line in the cafeteria for the hour-and-a-half until practice starts.

          Jaejin is the only one missing right now since he has after school band practice, but soon Mir will start winter track in the indoor field next to the one Dongwoon will be in. Kibum’s swim practices are in the morning, and Nicole’s dance practices are on and off depending on if they have to perform at a game or not—the dance team interchanges with the cheerleaders when it comes to home games. Jinwoon’s practice, basketball for a travel team instead of for the school, is in the evenings at a gym near this house.

          “Why,” Kibum begins, “do you get stupider every time I see you?”

          “You get deafer every time I see you,” Dongwoon says back. “Because I said that Kikwangie-hyung told me he doesn’t like Hyunseung-hyung anymore—which is really, really, really not the same as saying that now he likes me.”

          “I think he does,” Nicole says matter-of-factly.

          Dongwoon looks at her. “Don’t,” he says. “I know your girl brain is always supposed to be right, but Kikwang-hyung isn’t a girl. And you just think he likes me because you’re my friend.”

          Nicole looks offended. “No I don’t,” she says. “I really think he likes you.”

          “Don’t work so hard, ‘Cole,” Kibum says. “He doesn’t deserve it if he’s this stupid.”

          Now Dongwoon is offended. “I’m not being stupid,” he says defensively. “I’m being realistic. You guys are being stupid.”

          “Look,” Kibum says, folding his arms as Mir demonstrates to Jinwoon how he bought an app that can make farting sounds when you rub the belly on the screen. “We’re not saying he definitely likes you. We just want you to stop acting like Kikwang-hyung liking you is some sort of miracle than can only happen when Jonghyunnie-hyung knows how to use a dictionary.”

          “Jonghyun-hyung knowing how to use a dictionary wouldn’t be a miracle, Kibummie,” Dongwoon says. “It’d be an evolutionary anomaly.”

          Kibum thinks for a moment. “True,” he concedes with a shrug.

          “Really, Dongwoonie,” Nicole says. “Even if you don’t think he likes you right now, it’s really possible later on. Falling in love with your best friend happens a lot.” Except her eyes aren’t on Dongwoon or Kibum while she’s talking.

          They are on the back of Jinwoon’s head.

          Dongwoon stares at her.

          Kibum opens his mouth.

          But Dongwoon beats him to it. “Oh my God,” he says, “Oh my God.”

          “What?” Nicole says, snapping her gaze back. “Have you decided that I’m right and he likes you?”

          Dongwoon grins. “No,” he says. “I’ve decided that I’m not taking advice from hypocrites who have stagnant love lives of their own.”

          Nicole’s cheeks color. “It’s not,” she sputters, a-la-Lee-Joon, “it’s not stagnant.”

          “Yes it is,” Kibum says. “Actually, you know, stagnant would be an improvement. Considering that these days it’s regressing into negative levels.”

          “Kibummie,” she squeaks indignantly, hitting the swimmer’s shoulder.

          He shrugs and puts his feet up in Jinwoon’s lap.

          Jinwoon looks down at Kibum’s loafers as though they are encroaching beetles. “Why?” he asks, a muted sort of outraged.

          “Deal,” Kibum says back, a muted sort of amused.

          “No, guys, but really,” Dongwoon says after Jinwoon is done being properly offended and Nicole has stopped staring longingly at the way Kibum can so casually rest his feet on Jinwoon. “He doesn’t.”

          “If you get any stupider,” Kibum says. “You’d be going backwards.” He glides his fingers over the screen of his cell phone. “And if you get any stupider than that, you’d be Jonghyunnie-hyung.”

          “It’s not like you’re much better off,” Jinwoon says considerably to Kibum. “You shouldn’t be shoving Dongwoonie off the cliff of confession if you can’t tell Jonghyun-hyung either.”

          Kibum’s jaw tightens. “That’s different,” he says, but in Dongwoon’s opinion, Kibum doesn’t sound like he’s convinced of his own words. “Everyone knows Jonghyunnie-hyung likes girls, but Hyunseung-hyung is a boy so Dongwoon has a chance. I’m not saying Kikwangie-hyung likes him back for sure, I’m just saying that he’s got a chance and should just ing make a move.”

          Dongwoon looks at Kibum oddly. “No one thinks Jonghyun likes girls,” he says. “Not anymore.”

          “I meant before me,” Kibum says, exasperated. “And I don’t think I count,” he adds, “Everyone wants to me—even gnats.”

          “Gnats want to everyone after it rains, Kibummie,” Dongwoon says. “It’s not just you.”

          Kibum kicks the leg of the soccer player’s chair.

          “I hate Bio,” Mir grumbles, leaning forward over his biology textbook, hands outstretched and cupping his iPhone. “And I hate Hyori-noona.”

          “Why?” Jinwoon asks, finally deciding to attempt the impossible and push Kibum’s feet out of his lap. “She’s hot, and teaches a lot better than that old dude who does Bio regulars.”

          “Because I hate homework,” Mir says as his phone vibrates and from Dongwoon’s vantage point, he spots the familiar image of an envelope on the track athlete’s screen.

          “Yeah, you’re really digging into those books,” Nicole says, laughing.

          Mir sticks his tongue out at her and sets to open his message.

          “Are any of you guys going to the thing on Saturday?” Nicole asks at large, rifling through one of her folders. “That thing Jaejinnie said he has to go to because he’s in the music department?”

          “What,” Dongwoon says, “Opera Night?”

          “No,” Jinwoon says. “Kwonnie-hyung made me go once last year when he was a senior and they made me help around backstage and I caught Hongki-hyung and Jonghyun-hyung making out before Hongki-hyung’s solo.”

          Nicole laughs into her hand and Dongwoon tries to keep a straight face at the glumly traumatized expression on Jinwoon’s face. “Hongki-hyung isn’t even choir anymore,” Kibum says. “He and Jonghun-hyung are taking AP Music Theory, so you don’t have to worry about -blocking them again, oh-straight-one.”

          Jinwoon’s mouth opens indignantly. “I did not -block them,” he says, highly defensive, looking outraged as Nicole starts to laugh so hard she’s falling into Dongwoon’s side. “They didn’t even know I walked in on them—I left so fast.”

          Kibum snorts. “Yeah, okay.”

          “It sounds kind of boring,” Dongwoon says to Nicole after she finishes laughing. “Why—are you going?”

          She shrugs, puffing her cheeks out thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I don’t have anything else to do this weekend, so might as well be there for Jaejinnie.”

          “I should go too,” Jinwoon suddenly says, his hand halfway into the air as though about to answer a question in class.

          Kibum coughs loudly and Dongwoon vaguely hears something that sounds remarkably like “That’s subtle” hidden in there. He exchanges amused glances with the swimmer who grins back.

          “I thought you said you didn’t want to,” Nicole blinks.

          “I—well—Hongki-hyung isn’t in choir anymore, so—you know—support—Jaejin—friendship, and—all—all that good stuff,” Jinwoon sputters, and Dongwoon thinks that Kibum’s face is about to explode from trying not to laugh. His own stomach is starting to ache from holding in his own laughter.

          Nicole blinks again. And then she smiles. “Okay,” she says brightly. “Do you want to carpo—“

          “Yes,” Jinwoon says immediately and this time Kibum bursts into outright laughter and Dongwoon puts his face in his arms, shoulders shaking.

          When Dongwoon thinks he can look into Jinwoon’s mortified eyes without rolling around in his chair in hysterics, he lifts his head up and is met with great confusion on Nicole’s part and expected humiliation and moritifcation on Jinwoon’s. Kibum is actually half-hiccupping from laughing so hard and Mir, despite his state of having-three-chapters-of-biology-homework-due-in-less-than-twenty-four-hours, is grinning widely, too.

          Dongwoon tears his gaze away as Kibum proceeds to try and make Nicole and Jinwoon turn red at the same time, and slides over to Mir. “Who’re you talking to anyway?” he asks, amusedly. “You’ve been at it for like half an hour straight.” He nudges the track athlete. “Girl?” he drawls out, laughing.

          “Shut up,” Mir says easily, eyes glued to the screen as another message announces its arrival with a vibrating hum. “It’s just Joonie-hyu—“

          Mir’s eyes bug at his phone.

          Dongwoon blinks.

          Mir looks up and doesn’t look anywhere near Dongwoon’s direction. The track athlete is staring towards Kibum, who’s currently being hit by Nicole for come up with different double entendres of her and Jinwoon carpooling.

          “What?” Dongwoon says, bewildered. “What?”

          Mir, as if entranced, holds out his phone and the message stretched out on the screen.

          Dongwoon glances and reads.

          What happens next, Dongwoon doesn’t even know how to describe because he’s acting on instinct, and he knows Mir is acting on instinct, and looking back, they both shouldn’t have done it and should probably have considered the fact that Jinwoon is also there and would react upon instinct too.

          Mir and Dongwoon stand up at the same time—Mir lunging forward towards the exit out of the cafeteria and into the main halls, and Dongwoon wrapping his arms around the other boy, holding them tight to each other and trying to prevent Mir from running at his full track-athlete-speed towards his intended target.

          “What the ?” Kibum says loudly, standing up, with Jinwoon and Nicole following suit onto their own feet.

          “Mir-ah, Mir-ah, don’t,” Dongwoon says, struggling to keep his footing. “Don’t—I want to, too, but you can’t—Mir-ah, I’m serious.”

          He can’t see Mir’s face, and he doesn’t think he wants to because it’ll only make Dongwoon angrier right alongside, and if he gets any angrier than he is now—trying to push the fury down will be impossible and he’ll end up releasing Mir and joining him. The track athlete’s strength is matched with Dongwoon’s, maybe even slightly less because of the height difference, but the fact remains that Mir is doing what he wants to do and Dongwoon is trying to deny that he wants to do the same.

          In summary, it means that Mir is winning the fight and Dongwoon wants him to win the fight but he knows he shouldn’t.

          “Does anyone want to tell us what the ’s going on?” Jinwoon says, reaching for Mir’s phone.

          “’Cole—don’t let him,” Dongwoon says hurriedly, and Nicole makes to take away Mir’s phone, but her confusion delays her and Jinwoon is already reading the message.

          And now Dongwoon has to restrain two furious beyond anyone’s belief athletes fighting at the top of their strength to get to the front entrance of the school.

          “Guys—guys, you can’t,” Dongwoon tries to explain breathlessly because Mir is one thing, but Jinwoon is taller than Dongwoon and a just a mutant in general and he plays basketball for ing ’s sakes and this clearly isn’t going to hold out much longer.

          “Stop,” Nicole shouts suddenly. “Jinwoonie, Mir-ah, seriously, just stop for a second and tell us what the hell you’re trying to do.”

          Dongwoon uses the momentary lapse of force because of Nicole’s outburst to gather all his strength and shove the two other boys backward away from the doors. Jinwoon and Mir stumble for a moment before regaining their balance and looking furiously at Dongwoon. “Tell them,” Dongwoon says in a low voice, “before you do anything else. Mir-ah, tell Kibummie.”

          The three boys and Nicole turn to Kibum, but the swimmer already has Mir’s phone in his hand, the expression on his face clearly announcing that he’s read the message as he sets it back down on the table. Nicole takes the phone up next, her eyes quickly scanning through the lines. Her eyes grow huge and round and she looks up at Kibum, pained.

          “What?” Kibum asks, forcefully casual, sitting back down while the rest of the ’91 line remains disbelieving on their feet.

          “You aren’t—how can you—oh, Kibummie,” Nicole says, sounding devastated.

          Kibum’s expression fights to remain indifferent.

          “Don’t you dare act like you don’t care,” Jinwoon says angrily. “Don’t pretend like you don’t care that that bastard just asked her out.”

          “It’s probably just on a date,” Nicole says in a small voice. “I don’t think Jonghyun-oppa would actually ask Jessica-unnie out, like, as a girlfriend.”

          “Are you defending him?” Mir asks, incredulously.

          “What—no!” Nicole exclaims, hands in front of herself. “No—no, of course not—it’s just—it’s—well—I don’t know,” she trails off faintly.

          “Okay,” Dongwoon says in a tone that he hopes sounds put-together and final because if it doesn’t, then he’s going to end up becoming Jinwoon and Mir’s warm-up for squishing Jonghyun. “I have to go to practice, and I’m going to ask Doojoonie-hyung and Yoseobie-hyung what’s going on.”

          Jinwoon and Mir look sullen. “I’m telling Jaejinnie about this,” Mir says.

          “Do whatever you want,” Dongwoon says, “Just don’t do anything that involves your fists and Jonghyun-hyung’s face until I get back with what really happened and not just Joonie-hyung spazzing into a text message.”

          “What about my feet and Jonghyun-hyung’s balls?” Jinwoon asks.

          Nicole throws him a withering look, and the basketball player shrinks.

          “’Cole,” Dongwoon says, picking up his backpack. “You’re on.”

          She salutes him with a smile, “Got it—won’t let them out of my sight.”

          He grins back before he leaves the cafeteria.

          Doojoon knows that as captain of a high school boys’ soccer team, he should expect a lot of things to happen. Jaebum and Junho have both told him that just because nothing terribly terrible happened during their reigns doesn’t mean that Doojoon’s going to be as lucky although Jaebum told him that nothing probably will because Doojoon doesn’t have to deal with Taecyeon, and Junho says that nothing probably will either because everything bad usually happens to Junho.

          But he’s learned to expect the unexpected anyway just in case. However, maybe because nothing bad has happened during the past two years he’s been on the team, so when he finally got the captaincy at the beginning of this year, he’s grown too complacent and now finds himself quite surprised at the fact that Dongwoon comes barreling into the indoor field, still in his uniform, and aiming—not at Kikwang, not at Hyunseung or Junhyung or even Doojoon and Yoseob—but the maknae is making a beeline for where Joon and Jonghyun stand together talking to Junhyung.

          They watch him striding with mild interest, Yoseob even nudging Doojoon and commenting on how Dongwoon seems to be missing one of the buttons at the bottom of his uniform shirt. They all watch him with mild interest until Dongwoon gets about a meter away from Jonghyun and then Joon and Junhyung immediately run towards him, each third year grabbing one of the first year’s arms and pulling him back away from Jonghyun.

          It’s then that Doojoon realizes how he probably should have kept up expecting the unexpected, because this is definitely unexpected.

          “The —” Yoseob says and starts running to a highly confused Jonghyun, to make sure that someone Dongwoon would never hurt stands between the first year and his seemingly intended target.

          Doojoon shoves away Joon and Junhyung once he gets to the maknae—Kikwang and Hyunseung are guarding Jonghyun—and rams Dongwoon right up into the wall. “Calm down,” he says right up against the maknae’s ear. “Just calm down—stop—just stop and tell us why you suddenly want to bash Jonghyunnie’s brains out.”

          Dongwoon looks at Doojoon straight in the eye, his face fuming. “You know why, hyung,” he says. “You know exactly why. Just think about it for a minute. Think about fifth period lunch and what happened.”

          Oh.

          Oh.

          Doojoon supposes he should’ve known.

          “I’m going to let you go,” Doojoon says quietly. “But you can’t hurt Jonghyun, okay? Calm down and don’t do anything stupid.”

          “He’s lucky it’s just me right now,” Dongwoon almost spits. “Hyung—Jinwoonie and Mir were on their way the minute they found out and I had to stop them by myself. Jinwoonie and Mir, hyung.”

          “Okay,” Doojoon says, his mind whirring. “Okay—I’ll get Joonie-hyung to take care of Mir, and we’ll get Jinwoonie, too. Just—right now, I’m concerned about you. I’m going to let you go and you will not turn Kim Jonghyun into a name on a tombstone.”

          Dongwoon gives Doojoon a sullen glare that very clearly reminds Doojoon no matter how tall they get, a maknae is still a maknae, and the look Dongwoon is giving him can only be described as the insolent, unhappy gaze of a maknae who’s just been told off by his hyung. “Give me one good reason to,” Dongwoon says.

          Doojoon grips the first year’s shoulders tightly. “Because Kibum loves him,” he says so quietly that it’s almost mouthed.

          The light fades suddenly out of Dongwoon’s eyes.

          “Hyung,” Dongwoon whispers, “you’ve always had Yoseob-hyung. You never had to know what it feels like to have someone you love want someone else.”

          The captain’s mouth falls open. He blinks, and his hands slacken against Dongwoon’s body.

          For a split second when Dongwoon rips away from the wall, Doojoon thinks that he’s going to knock past the third year and do Jonghyun proper damage.

          But instead, Dongwoon brushes past Doojoon and heads back through the field’s doors—back towards the hallways that lead up into the locker rooms. Doojoon is about to go after him himself when another figure brushes past the captain and Doojoon finds himself watching Kikwang run after the maknae down the hall.

          “What,” Doojoon hears from the middle of the field, “was that?”

          The captain turns around at the sound of Jonghyun’s voice. The swimmer is staring blankly, with Hyunseung and Yoseob still flanking him, and Junhyung and Joon scattered at intervals in front of them.

          “That,” Yoseob says before Doojoon can get to the punch—literally—despite what he just went through to Dongwoon, “was the fruit of your stupidity, Jonghyun-ah. And I think that Joonie-hyung should take you home before more fruits of your stupidity show up and decide that your time on this earth is up.”

          Jonghyun gapes. “I—what—what did I do? I barely know Son Dongwoon—what—what did I even—”

          Joon grabs the second year by the cuff of his neck, and Doojoon thinks that it’s moments like these that keep all of them in check when it comes to Lee Joon—that regardless of how retarded the track athlete is, there’s a reason why he gets the grades he does, a reason why it’s not just admiration the entire student body population has for him. “Yah,” Joon says in a voice that makes the hairs of Doojoon’s neck stand on end. “We’re going home, Jonghyun-ah.”

          Jonghyun’s face suddenly mirrors the expression on Joon’s, and the swimmer falls silent as Joon leads him away and mouths, “Call me” at Doojoon.

          The captain nods back. Doojoon thinks that tonight, over the phone with Joon, there will be some serious damage control to be done before the next school day otherwise Kim Jonghyun may not live to see the weekend.  

          Kikwang forgets sometimes that Dongwoon’s growth spurt means his leg span is twice that of any normal human being’s, and that coupled with the stamina the first year has always had, it means that catching up to him—especially when he’s had a few seconds ahead to start—is something that could possibly border on the impossible. It borders on the impossible except Kikwang knows Dongwoon, so he knows where Dongwoon will end up, and sure enough, the second year finds the maknae in a corner of the locker room—sitting on the bench in the section where Kikwang and Dongwoon always change together before outdoor practice.

          Dongwoon is slumped forward, legs apart, elbows resting on his knees. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react or look up when Kikwang takes a seat next to him, barely an inch of space between them.

          “It’s nice,” Kikwang says right away before the silence becomes too stifling and suffocates all the will he has to break the quiet, “I think it’s nice, that you guys all care for Kibum that much—that you care about him so much, you get that mad at Jonghyun because he asked Jessica-noona out.”

          Dongwoon doesn’t respond.

          Kikwang folds his fingers together. And then takes them apart. Folds them together and then apart. Together. Apart. Together. “I know,” he says quietly, “that Kibummie’s hurting and I know it makes you guys all hurt with him.” He leans in and tilts his head slightly, angling his face so he can see a glimpse of Dongwoon’s expression. “But hurting Jonghyun isn’t going to make that hurt go away.”

          Dongwoon’s mouth is still clamped tightly shut—no prospect of any sound coming out any time soon.

          Kikwang waits a little while longer, not really sure what he’s hoping for. He decides after a few more minutes of pure silence that he’ll just have to return and tell Doojoon that their defender won’t be coming to practice today—which is probably for the best anyway since nothing is worse than a teammate who can’t focus. A defender who can’t focus will just get Doojoon angrier because when they split up to play, Yoseob will have to fend for himself.

          He sighs and stands up, making to leave.

          He stands up, but just as he’s turned away, Dongwoon grabs his wrist.

          The first year’s warm fingers wrap easily all the way around Kikwang’s wrist, and it’s times like these that he feels like he’s the dongsaeng and not the hyung. Dongwoon holds him by the wrist and tugs slightly and Kikwang hopes that it’s biologically impossible for someone to feel the heartbeat through the pulse because if that were the case, Dongwoon would be wondering why there is something punching his palm with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings.

          Kikwang turns, and Dongwoon’s expression is a mix of surprised and apologetic.

          “What?” Kikwang asks, blinking.

          Dongwoon hesitates. “Do you,” he says slowly, thoughtfully, “want to sleep over tonight?”

          Kikwang smiles in relief. “I’m not going to be very interesting,” he says, stepping a little bit closer, almost between Dongwoon’s legs. “I have a load of homework to do.”

          Dongwoon grins. “You’ll be there, right? That’s plenty interesting for me.”

          The second year really wishes that the maknae would stop doing this. It was never this hard to resist with Hyunseung. With Hyunseung, Kikwang never had to worry about the risk of his heart exploding.