Kibum knows that there are a lot of ways that he could die at any given moment or time in the near and foreseeable or vague and distant future. He’s not morbid or anything because it’s not like he thinks about these potential deaths every other minute, but he knows that there are lots of ways he could die at any given moment or time and by knowing that, he thinks he can if anything at least prevent the shock of that moment or time when it comes.

          And he supposes, in retrospect, that he probably should have expected that one of those possible methods of death could have been the-creeper-mass-murderer-coming-in-through-his-bedroom-window-while-he’s-doing-homework, because then if he’d expected that, he wouldn’t be as shocked when the creeper finally breaks through his window and turns out to just be Kim Jonghyun.

          Who, he also supposes, is a lot worse than the creeper-mass-murderer.

          Because at least after the mass murderer is done with him, Kibum would be gone and dead and happily floating away to wherever he’s supposed to float away to after he dies.

          With Kim Jonghyun, Kibum’s just going to linger—very much alive and breathing—with a broken heart and all the full-of-life pain that comes with it.

          “What the ?” is how Kibum decides to greet Jonghyun when the older boy finally manages to scramble through the window without falling backwards and rolling off the roof to meet his untimely death somewhere near Kibum’s father’s favored oak tree.

          “What?” Jonghyun says, blinking, confused.

          “It’s ten to midnight and you’re in my room,” Kibum explains because he doesn’t expect a Neanderthal to comprehend the severity of this situation anyway.

          “I needed to talk to you.”

          “Hyung,” Kibum says. “There’s this thing—it’s really amazing, wait ‘til you hear—it’s called a cell phone—I’ll show you, don’t worry—and it can—“

          “ you,” Jonghyun laughs, and Kibum catches how one of the second year’s feet takes a hesitating step forward—and then back into place again.

          Jonghyun is afraid to touch him.

          Kibum is going to murder Dongwoon.

          He’s spent the last few years perfecting his lie, perfecting hiding from Jonghyun how he really feels so he can get this close—get this far—and Dongwoon might have ruined all of that by nearly punching Jonghyun in the face just this afternoon and it’s not like Jonghyun is completely stupid. If he’s started to figure something out in his prehistoric brain, then Kibum’s just going to have to amp up the damage control by ten levels because he is not about to let Son Dongwoon put years of work to waste.

          He’s not about to let any of it go to waste, so Kibum throws his arms around Jonghyun’s neck and presses their bodies together. Jonghyun feels surprised at first, but he seems to relax into Kibum after a few seconds, falling back into the familiarity and wrapping his arms around Kibum’s waist. “I had to talk to you in person,” Jonghyun says.

          “Why?” Kibum says, because playing dumb to the situation is key.

          Jonghyun shrugs and smiles impishly. “Maybe I just wanted to see your face.”

          “Skype, hyung,” Kibum rolls his eyes.

          “Can’t kiss you over Skype,” Jonghyun says playfully.

          Kibum snorts. “Flirt.” He tilts his head. “So go ahead—tell me what you needed to tell me so you can hurry up and go home before your parents freak the out and ground you for like a decade.”

          Jonghyun draws away slightly then, looking sheepish.

          Kibum frowns. “What?”

          “I don’t have to go home,” he says, visibly biting his tongue.

          Kibum waits.

          “I—um—I’m supposed to be sleeping over at Joonie-hyung’s house, but I had to talk to you—so—I—I kind of ran away.”

          The first year stares. “What do you mean by ‘ran away’, hyung?”

          Jonghyun in his cheeks and then blows out bracingly. He winces. “Like—ran away as in—as in I kind of snuck out of the window when Joonie-hyung’s mom called him down for something. Doojoonie-hyung wanted to keep me away from you for at least tonight.”

          Kibum blinks slowly, watching the play of expressions on the other boy’s face. “Then why’d you come?” he says quietly.

          “I had to see you,” Jonghyun says, looking away from his feet and into Kibum’s eyes. “I know everyone’s pissed at me because I asked Jessica-noona out, because they think I shouldn’t if I’m having with you. So I wanted to ask you for myself what you think of it.” Then his gaze falls to his feet again. “I didn’t really want to listen to anyone else if they’re just going by what they thought you wanted.”

          Kibum thinks that maybe he’s had so much homework over the past two weeks that he’s starting to hallucinate—and by hallucinations, he’s also starting to hear things differently from how they’re really said. Because he swore he just heard Jonghyun say that, in summary, he wanted to hear what Kibum thought straight from Kibum’s mouth instead of from anyone else—which can also be translated into Jonghyun caring what Kibum thought about him and Jessica, and this isn’t supposed to happen because there’s nothing Kibum hates more about Jonghyun than the second year’s supremely unfair ability to make Kibum’s already-prepared-to-be-shattered-heart fall in love with him more.

          “You want what I think of Jessica-noona?” Kibum asks, frowning. “I mean—I already told you, hyung. She’s pretty and all and—“

          “Kibum-ah,” Jonghyun says softly, stepping forward until there are barely inches between their faces. “Do you want me to go on the date with her?”

          Kibum stares again.

          Jonghyun laughs, sheepishly, quietly. “Like—are you okay with it or not, you know? I think I’d deserve to get killed by your mafia ’91-line if I didn’t even ask you and just went out with her.”

          Kibum takes a step backward—a step away from the other boy because he needs distance to be able to process all of what’s happening coherently. He wants to ask so badly—so badly—what Jonghyun would do if Kibum were to say that no, he isn’t okay at all with the second year going out with Jessica. He wants to just ask, even if he also adds only in theory, what would happen if he were to say that he doesn’t want Jonghyun to even just go on this one date with Jessica.

          He wants to, but it has the potential to undo everything Kibum has worked for with Jonghyun—everything he’s done to remain special, to become someone Jonghyun can’t ever replace with a girl, to become someone Jonghyun can tell everything to, to become so close to Jonghyun that there’s no way Jonghyun will let go of him as easily as he let go all those girls like pieces of paper—like how he took the paper hearts Kibum gave him through Nicole and never gave them back.

          “She’s hot and smart and ing cute,” Kibum says, grinning and taking Jonghyun’s hands. “Why the , hyung, would I tell you not to go out with her?” He sighs teasingly. “I mean—considering everything, this may never happen again.”

          Jonghyun blinks.

          And then he shoves Kibum away, his mouth open incredulously. “ you,” he says. “I’m attractive.”

          Kibum pats the older boy’s chest sympathetically. “If I were you, hyung,” he says, with a straight face, “I’d invest in a mirror.”

          Just like that, Jonghyun is stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Kibum’s waist and laughing into Kibum’s neck and they’re falling back towards Kibum’s bed and even though this is another successful avoidance, another success at remaining special, at remaining irreplaceable, at not being thrown away—for some reason, Kibum finds himself wishing that he wasn’t so good at this hiding thing.

          To say the least, the next day at school isn’t the best one that Joon’s ever had. And Lee Joon never has bad days at school because he’s a positive and outgoing person who looks on the bright side of things even when he’s getting paper cups pelted at him because Doojoon and Junhyung and Yoseob are angry that he gave them the wrong answer key to check their math homework with.

          To say the least, no one else is having that good of a day either.

          To say the least, everyone is blaming Jonghyun.

          Joon is kind of too.

          The day is already guaranteed to be bad because the night before Jonghyun escaped from his confinement in Joon’s house until the rest of them can figure out how to keep him alive long enough to placate the ’91 line. Moreover, Jonghyun decided to escape to Kim Kibum’s house of all places and when Joon video calls Doojoon, he not only has to deal with the trauma of finding Doojoon in bed, but he has to deal with Yoseob beside him in bed and just as .

          The general consensus after a four-way video call between himself, Doojoon-and-Yoseob, Junhyung, and Yonghwa is that Joon is going to locate wherever Jonghyun ends up the next morning be it Kibum’s house or Jonghyun’s own and bring him to school, and they are all going to block the information from the ’91 line because as far as Doojoon says—according to what Kikwang has texted him a few hours before—Dongwoon is still pretty much blowing steam out of his ears and Mir and Jinwoon and Jaejin more or less see Jonghyun’s face as a red piece of cloth waving in the air.

          Joon’s morning is kicked off at a prompt four o’clock with Jonghyun ramming his fist against Joon’s bedroom window after doing-everyone-knows-what with Kibum, his uniform wrinkled and his face unapologetic because, as he seriously insists, Kibum doesn’t care that he’s going on a date with Jessica this Friday so he doesn’t understand why Joon feels the need to protect him from the ’91 line who aren’t even that scary in the first place.

          Joon thinks that maybe everyone should stop calling him a retard because clearly they haven’t talked to Jonghyun extensively in a while.

          However, Jonghyun is more or less transported to school without any grievous injuries and no contact with the ’91-line thus far.

          Once they get to school, Joon can put his hands up on all this because Doojoon and Yoseob are in charge of Jonghyun for the first few periods, and through all of this, Jonghyun continues to insist that the ’91-line seriously isn’t going to hurt him because Kibum himself said that it was all okay and more or less gave his blessing on the single-just-one-meaningless-ing date with Jessica and there is no need for Doojoon and Yoseob to frog march him like this to AP Music Theory.

          Doojoon turns around and asks Joon if the whole idiocy thing is contagious and Joon doesn’t know whether to be offended or grateful that someone finally realizes that Jonghyun is stupid, too.

          Wait—

          But—

          Not that Joon is stupid, just—

          Yeah.

           After that, Joon is just in charge of making sure Mir doesn’t do anything that will result in Jonghyun’s existence ending a few couple decades early, which he doesn’t understand anyway because it’s not like he sees the first year any time during the school day other than at track practice.

          Speaking of after school track practice—

          “Hyung,” Joon says, stumbling into the classroom, one hand hastily grabbing the doorway so he doesn’t fall completely on his face and just reduces the humiliation to sliding on his knees and colliding with the filing cabinet. “Seungho-hyung, I can’t do tutoring today because winter track starts and my coach is introducing another coach that we have to work with and I have to meet him and I can’t come but I’ll still read just double up my hours tomorrow but wait I can’t come then either and I swear I’ll do the work just don’t tell Jung-seonsangnim because he’ll—“

          Joon stares.

          Seungho blinks back.

          Joon stares some more.

          Seungho’s eyebrows furrow.

          “Why,” Joon says after he up the saliva that might-or-might-not-have leaked out of his mouth during his attempt at a fast-forward explanation of why he couldn’t be tutored today, “are you wearing sweatpants?”

          Joon wants to know why Seungho is wearing sweatpants because it’s one thing to have to resist Yang Seungho in regular, old-people’s-teaching clothes, but it’s something else entirely when Seungho is in sweatpants, in a sweatshirt, has his hair tousled and messy—most likely from pulling on the sweatshirt, in sneakers, and looking warm and there’s color in his cheeks and his eyes are as bright as they always are and in casual clothes he doesn’t look so tired and Joon wants to wrap his arms around him and be able to feel the cotton and fleece right over the warmth from Seungho’s body and—

          “I thought I told you,” Seungho says, confused. “I’m coaching winter track with Byunghee, remember? That’s why I asked you if it’d be okay if I came home with you after practice and did tutoring then. Your mom said it’d be okay, and I asked you last week, but I think you were asleep,” he pauses, frowning, “with your eyes open.”

          Joon’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly a few times because he swears that there is no way he would’ve heard this piece of news and not remembered because this is the stuff his dreams are made of. He swears that there is no way his mother would have taken part in this piece of news and not told him because that’s cruel and unfeeling and child abuse and she probably wants her son to explode into a million pieces because Yang Seungho is too hot and Seungho is going to be in Joon’s room and perhaps sitting on Joon’s bed and—

          “I—I—I—you—house—my—what—mother—you—was not asleep,” Joon says, disbelieving.

          Seungho looks vaguely amused. “No, you were,” he says. “You were drooling, too.”

          Joon blinks in mortification. “That’s—that’s—that’s—it’s—hereditary,” he sputters.

          “Really?” Seungho asks, clearly humoring him. The teacher smiles.

          “This is student abuse,” Joon says glumly. “It is abuse.”

          Seungho laughs, picking up his bag and walking forward. “Come on,” he says lightly, “we’ll be late.” He pats Joon’s back with one hand to get him going and even though Joon knows that it’s probably just to get him out of the way because it’s not like there’s any other path from the teacher’s desk to the doorway, he still can’t help the fireworks exploding in his brain because Yang Seungho just voluntarily touched him and this is a historical landmark of humankind.

          Lee Joon has just totally one-upped Neil Armstrong.  

          Hyunseung wonders if maybe he’s supposed to involve himself in this uproar.

          He wonders if it’s part of his pre-listed duties to get himself involved when Jonghyun goes and does something that might or might not get himself fatally injured or at least permanently disfigured. When he was with Junhyung once upon a time, and Jonghyun went and did something grievously stupid, Hyunseung was pulled in by rote because he was a hyung and with Kim Jonghyun, there can never be too many hyungs to make sure he doesn’t get himself abducted or killed or abducted and then killed.

          And so when Doojoon explained after Joon took Jonghyun home the reason that the ’91-line was baying for the second year’s blood, and then when Kikwang later updated him on the details, Hyunseung began to wonder if he should throw himself into this chaos as well because he feels like he should, but he doesn’t know if it would be the wisest choice in the world considering that he never really helped out with Jonghyun’s screw-ups in the past.

          If anything, Hyunseung usually just ended up blurting out comments that made Jonghyun more irritable than he already would be when his hyungs bore down on him.

          Still, he wonders if he should help.

          Or at least offer his condolences.

          You know—for when the ’91-line kills Jonghyun.

          “Hyung,” Kikwang says, “if you get involved, Jonghyun will probably get himself killed because of something you say.”

          Hyunseung is offended. “Yah,” he says, offended. “I give great advice.”

          Kikwang backtracks a bit so he can lean his back against one of the pillars that comes out of the front entrance’s stone benches. He blinks and there’s a tilt to the way he sets his mouth at Hyunseung’s assertion. “Are you sure?” he asks.

          “Positive,” Hyunseung says firmly and Kikwang doesn’t look any happier.

          “Trust me, hyung,” Kikwang says, “the grave Jonghyun jumped into this time is way too deep, and there’s just not going to be enough shovels to get him out even if you join.”

          Hyunseung thinks that he can bring his own shovels and extras for the others if they need. “When’s the date supposed to be anyway?” he asks.

          “This Saturday,” Kikwang answers. “I think they’re going to the mall.”

          The third year rolls this over in his mind, resting his back against the wall so that he and the other boy are just feet opposite each other. The halls that lead up to the front entrance are mostly empty with Doojoon and Yoseob heading in for an early night—exhausted after playing watchdog over Jonghyun for an entire day; with Yonghwa in the heat of rehearsals; with Jonghyun hopefully encumbered safely at home; with Joon at the first track practice of the winter season.

          Hyunseung doesn’t know where Junhyung is.

          Not—not—not that it’s his business to know where Junhyung is because it really isn’t. Hyunseung is no longer with Junhyung, not really even friends with him anymore, so if he still knew Junhyung’s pinpoint location every second of the day, it’d be creepy at the very least and a security hazard at the very most. He doesn’t know where Junhyung is, but he kind of wants to know even though he knows he shouldn’t want to. He knows he shouldn’t want to, and he doesn’t want anyone else to know that he still wants to so he brings something else up before Kikwang can read his face.

          “So,” Hyunseung says casually, “where’s Dongwoonie?”

          Considering the expression that takes up Kikwang’s face at this question, Hyunseung thinks it’s safe to say that if the second year was drinking something at this moment, it probably would’ve been spat out all over Hyunseung’s face a-la-Lee-Joon-saliva-water-screen.

          “Hyung,” Kikwang says glumly, “stop bullying me.”

          Hyunseung laughs. “I’m just asking. Our maknae could’ve killed Jonghyun for all we know.”

          Kikwang shakes his head. “Doojoonie-hyung and Yoseobie-hyung got Jonghyun home since Joonie-hyung has practice today.” He looks at his shoes. “And I saw Dongwoonie—um—making sure Kibum was okay.”

          The third year frowns slightly when he hears the off tone of Kikwang’s voice. “What do you mean you saw him making sure Kibum was okay?”

          The younger boy shrugs, eyes still fixed toward the ground. “They were hugging and Dongwoonie was trying to make Kibum smile. I saw them alone at the back near the bus docks—in the little corner before the auditorium entrance.” Kikwang bites his lip, and Hyunseung watches as the second year’s eyebrows crease slightly, watches the normally smiling, crescent eyes turn into something that looks like tears are on the horizon. “Hyung,” Kikwang says quietly, “do you think maybe Dongwoon likes Kibum? Do you think that maybe that’s why he was so angry the other day?”

           Hyunseung thinks that Son Dongwoon needs to get his over here in point-zero-three seconds before Jang Hyunseung drags it here because if Kikwang’s eyes aren’t smiling and his full lips aren’t open in laughter, than Jonghyun won’t be the only one that needs to worry about his existence.

          Hyunseung also thinks that Son Dongwoon needs to hurry up and do that thing called telling-Lee-Kikwang-that-you-actually-love him because if he doesn’t than Hyunseung’s going to do that thing called unspeakable-acts-that’ll-result-in-Lee-Kikwang-becoming-the-new-maknae-of-the-soccer-team.

          “I don’t think Dongwoon likes Kibum,” Hyunseung says instead, because while he does think all of that, he doesn’t think that making those thoughts into words is going to help the situation at all considering the level of dumb Dongwoon and Kikwang are at. “I mean, Kibum’s been friends with him for longer than you have, so it makes sense that Dongwoon’s going to be worried. You saw how Joonie-hyung was with Jonghyun.”

          Kikwang nods, teeth still digging into his lip, eyes still looking like they might flood at any moment. “True,” he says so quietly that Hyunseung almost doesn’t hear.

          “It is true,” Hyunseung reasserts almost forcefully. “He—” Hyunseung smiles when his eye catches something. “Yah,” the third year says, the smile leaking into his voice. “I told you, Lee Kikwang.” At the second year’s puzzled look, Hyunseung jerks his chin, motioning for Kikwang to turn around.

          Kikwang turns.

          But not in time.

          Not in time to dodge Dongwoon popping up from behind the column, vaulting over the bench, and wrapping his arms around Kikwang in a fierce hug, digging his face between Kikwang’s shoulder blades and making the second year yell out in equal parts laughter, surprise, and discomfort. “Yah!” Kikwang laughs, struggling to get away because Dongwoon is no longer just digging his face into Kikwang’s back—the maknae is burrowing in there, and as much as Hyunseung knows Kikwang is probably on cloud nine, that still has to hurt.

          “Yah!” Kikwang says again, and now it sounds like a plea because even though Dongwoon’s stopped harassing him, the maknae still has his and the second year’s bodies plastered together tightly. “Dongwoon-ah, I can’t breathe.”

          “He’s going to die, Dongwoonie,” Hyunseung grins.

          “Good,” Dongwoon’s voice is muffled against Kikwang’s shoulder now and the second year has taken to staying as still as he can in an attempt of maybe-if-you-don’t-move-the-animal-will-walk-away, “that’s what he gets for ditching me after school.”

          Kikwang looks miffed. “I didn’t ditch you,” he protests. “Kibum was sad and you were with him and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

          Dongwoon finally lets go of Kikwang, looking amused. Hyunseung easily notices how the first year keeps one arm loosely around Kikwang’s shoulders. “Yeah, well, you walking past us without even saying ‘hi’ made me sad. I hope you’re happy, hyung.”

          Kikwang stares for a moment.

          And then he laughs out loud, barraging Dongwoon’s shoulder with punches that have absolutely no bite to them at all. “Yah,” Kikwang laughs, “Yah, Son Dongwoon.”

          There’s the eye smile.

          There’s the laugh.

          Hyunseung puts on his backpack. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he says with a grin, and the two younger boys nod and give their appropriate “yeah, hyung”s when the third year announces his leaving, but Dongwoon and Kikwang’s eyes never leave each other even when they’re supposed to be waving Hyunseung off.

          He thinks that if this was a page in a coloring book, there would be so many hearts to fill in that Hyunseung’s pink and red crayons would be stubs in minutes. There would be so many hearts floating around those two that he’s willing to bet even Doojoon and Yoseob will start to take up joint-ing.

          Still, there’s something vaguely adorable about maknae love.

          Junhyung never thought that there would be a time in his life when he would wish to be a turtle.

          But he supposes that there’s a time for everything.

          He wishes he was a turtle because if he was a turtle than he could recoil into his shell whenever danger approaches and right now danger is approaching at a speed of one-foot-per-second and danger looks happy and Junhyung is just going to make danger look sad and danger is also looking terribly, terribly beautiful and danger is getting closer and danger is probably coming to get his books from Doojoon’s locker since danger shares lockers with the captain for when danger comes to the science hall.

          In the end, Junhyung simply ends up recoiling as much of his body as he can into his own locker and trying not to think about how danger is right next to him because Doojoon’s locker is right next to Junhyung’s and he can feel danger’s body heat and he can smell danger’s shampoo and deodorant and he knows that considering last time danger was the one that started conversation, that it should be his turn this time but he doesn’t know what to say because what if danger doesn’t feel like talking to him right now and it—

          “Lost something?”

          Junhyung blinks.

          Hyunseung raises his eyebrows.

          “What?” Junhyung says intelligently like Joon always does.

          Hyunseung gestures at how Junhyung looks like he’s about to dive into the locker Lion-Witch-and-the-Wardrobe-esquely. “You looked like you were looking for something.” The other boy takes out another one of his Physics books from Doojoon’s locker and shifts the binder that is already in his arms to the side slightly.

          “Oh,” Junhyung breathes, “Oh—um—no.”

          “Oh,” Hyunseung says back, shrugging. “Okay.” He turns back into their captain’s locker and begins taking other books out of his backpack and putting them in, while still managing to balance the books from the locker in the crook of one of his arms.

          Junhyung turns his own gaze back to his locker, not quite sure what’s supposed to happen next. Well—in his mind, he knows what he wants to happen next. In his mind, next, he grabs Hyunseung and spins him around and tells him that Junhyung has been an idiot and is sorry, sorry, so sorry, for hurting him and telling him things that he didn’t mean. In his mind, what happens next is that Junhyung asks to get back together, asks to be together forever—even if forever might not even mean forever because they are in high school and Hyunseung will probably want better later on. In his mind what happens next is that Hyunseung forgives him—forgives him and miraculously takes him back. In his mind, Hyunseung is already kissing him, and he’s already holding Hyunseung and—

          “You,” Junhyung says next, “look happy.”

          Hyunseung turns to him, questioning. “Hm?”

          “You look happy,” Junhyung repeats.

          “Oh,” Hyunseung looks thoughtful. “Yeah—I guess I am.”

          “Good day?” Junhyung decides to stop being a coward and closes his locker—closes his potential safe base to recoil into whenever Hyunseung stops talking to him because he’s getting boring.

          A little smile curves Hyunseung’s lips and Junhyung, although doesn’t quite need his safe base again already, does wish that he’d kept it open because then it’d be easier to resist the urge to bang his forehead against his locker door at that smile because anything is better than having to look at that smile and know that none of it can ever be Junhyung’s again. “Pretty good, actually, yeah,” Hyunseung says lightly. He laughs and Junhyung feels the ice shards in his chest make a comeback. “I mean, I know no one else did ‘cause of Jonghyun and all.”

          Junhyung shakes his head and shrugs, grinning back—with part of him being amazed that he can so easily. “No—I didn’t do much. It was mostly Joonie-hyung and Doojoon who cared a lot. Yoseob probably only cared because Doojoon did, but I think the general attitude was that Jonghyun deserves it anyway.”

          Hyunseung nods, thoughtfully. “Probably,” then he laughs. “Kikwangie was telling me about when the date’s going to be and I thought about how great it’d be with Doojoonie-hyung and Yoseob double-dated with them.” He raises his eyebrows. “I mean—you know—just to make sure Jonghyun doesn’t do anything really stupid.”

          Junhyung snorts. “Yeah—sure,” he rolls his eyes. “You’re such a bully, you know that?”

          “I do actually,” Hyunseung says, almost triumphantly. “I was just told a few minutes ago.”

          Junhyung laughs.

          He laughs—

          And—

          He almost touches Hyunseung.

          It’s brief and he doubts that Hyunseung caught it too, but Junhyung’s arm was about to touch Hyunseung—was about to reach up and his hand was about to brush over Hyunseung’s shoulder, run over Hyunseung’s cheek, bring their faces close, make their lips meet.

          It’s nothing planned, nothing strategized—nothing, really, but instinct. Nothing except for the fact that Junhyung is too used to this—too used to being so close to Hyunseung that once they even get started back up like this, old patterns come out and Junhyung knows that he’s in deep when it’s to the point where Hyunseung is an old pattern—something that has been ingrained into Junhyung’s mind the same way breathing and his family’s faces have.

          He knows that Hyunseung is going to hate him again if he does this—

          He knows that it’ll bring them back to square negative ten-thousand again—

          But he does it anyway.

          He turns around and leaves without saying a word—in the middle of their conversation—

          In the middle of maybe Junhyung’s only chance to make Hyunseung look at him again.

          It’s probably for the best anyway.