Kyungsoo wakes up gasping for breath. It takes him a moment to realize that he is no longer drowning in freezin pool water; instead, he is thrashing between soft silken sheets and sinking into a cushioned mattress. It takes him a moment longer to realize that he’s not alone. 

Luhan is perched at the edge of his bed, still clothed in crumpled evening wear. The scene feels like deja vu, only this version unfolds differently. Upon seeing Kyungsoo awaken, Luhan’s expression of concern slowly dissipates and his handsome face grows calmly impassive. 

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Blearily, Kyungsoo registers Luhan’s tone as somewhat cool, as if he were faintly upset, or angry even. The thought startles Kyungsoo into alertness and he quickly replies that he’s alright.

“That’s good. Sorry about the whole incident.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “No it was my—”

“I should’ve kept a closer watch,” Luhan interrupts with a a small sigh. (A sigh of regret? Or irritation?) “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll take you to school in the morning.”

Kyungsoo parts his lips to protest, but Luhan preempts him by gliding out the room and shutting the door with a gentle good night. The room darkens, with only a sliver of moonlight peeking in through a slit in the curtain. Left alone, Kyungsoo realizes how uncomfortable he feels among the rich decor. His eyes remains open, staring unseeingly at his surroundings until exhaustion again overtakes him.

Luhan doesn’t sleep much that night either. He stands on his balcony that overlooks the pool and forces himself to stare into the blue abyss. An irrational part of him wants to drain it, but he knows that isn’t the solution. It isn’t even the root of the problem.

The problem, Luhan knows, is the look that flashed across Kyungsoo’s face moments before he fell into the pool. That expression of terror, that silent cry for help—disturbingly familiar. 

Blankly, Luhan lets the smoke from his cigarette waft into the heavens, never once breathing it in. He is already a thousand miles away. 

Beijing was just transitioning into spring. Luhan usually liked spring — warmer weather and blooming blossoms does wonders to one’s mood — but that spring, he was troubled. The weight of college entrance exams had begun to feel tiresome, even for him…and then there was Yixing.     

What had begun as a tentative friendship had at some point last year morphed into nervous fumblings in the dark and breathless stolen kisses in hidden nooks and crannies. Maybe it was Luhan’s fault. He wasn’t unconscious of the fact that he had often stared at boys more than was appropriate, and he was easily drawn to Yixing. Washed away of his countryside airs, all that remained of Yixing was a pretty youth who was preciously naive. Maybe Luhan had exploited that. He likes to think that there was something mutual, something more there, but then again, they were just barely seventeen. 

Their secret felt exciting—something that belonged to them. The forbidden nature of the relationship made it that much more enticing. But the risk that comes with secrets is the inevitable exposure. Maybe they weren’t discreet enough, or maybe Luhan’s dad was just perceptive.

You don’t want public embarrassment, do you? Where do you think this will lead? It won’t be good for you…or that other boy. Just end it.

End it—it’ll be better for everyone. 

Better to begin cooling things off now than later. Better to slowly recede from Yixing’s life. Better not to speak up when people begin to notice their estrangement.

Better to let Yixing fend for himself. Better to ignore the plea in his eyes when the other boys swoop down on him and give him a recreational beating for being poor, for being from the countryside, for catching the fancy of some pretty girl, because how dare he? 

It’ll pass.

How could he have guessed that Yixing might not survive the ordeal? That behind Yixing’s increasingly dull gaze, there hovered a dark despair? A desire to withdraw from a life that had slowly become routinized pain. 

But that was just an excuse, Luhan thinks as he stares blankly into the Seoul night sky. Of course he knew. I was a coward. 

The skies in Seoul are a lot clearer than those in Beijing, and here on the outskirts of the city, he feels closer to the stars. Star. He used to call Yixing that: 星星. It was a cringeworthy nickname that they had both laughed at. But now that Yixing’s gone, Luhan likes to look to the skies for affirmation that he had once existed and perhaps exists still, just beyond reach.

Maybe he was seeking affirmation in Kyungsoo too. Their pain felt so similar. Maybe that was the real reason why he took Kyungsoo under his wing; the reason he forcefully gave Kyungsoo what he couldn’t give to Yixing, and the reason he blinded himself to all the signs that Kyungsoo didn’t quite fit in to the firm, wasn’t uncomfortable or treated well. He wanted to atone for his past, show that he’s a different man now, a man who has the strength and the power to do the right thing. He wants to stare into the stars without guilt. He wants to be able to ask for forgiveness.

Which just goes to show, he thinks, that nothing’s changed at all. Kyungsoo’s frightened face flashes before his eyes once more and Luhan takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

Yep, still the same, selfish . 

***

Kyungsoo sits at the edge of the car seat on the ride to school. He’s not sure why. God knows he’s ridden in Luhan’s car enough times by now that he no longer feels nervous. But today was different. It wasn’t anything overt—Luhan behaved in his usual manner, gently urging him to eat breakfast, softly reminding him to put on his seatbelt. And yet the older man managed to do it all in a way that felt subtly alienating, as if Kyungsoo could have been anyone and Luhan said these things only as a matter of habit.

“You don’t have to come in this afternoon if you’re not feeling well,” Luhan says as Kyungsoo makes to step out of the car.

The pronouncement fills Kyungsoo with discomfort, even though it’s a perfectly reasonable statement to make. He wonders if what Luhan actually means to say is that he doesn’t have to work anymore at the firm, ever again. 

He quickly shakes his head. “No, I’m fine.”

If Luhan’s disappointed by his response, he doesn’t show it. He merely smiles absently and wishes him a nice day at school before driving off.

*

Dejectedly, Kyungsoo wanders into the classroom and slides quietly into his seat. Some of the boys surreptitiously glance his way, but no one bothers him, not with Jongin’s invisible presence shielding him.

At least there’s that.

With a few minutes left before class, Lee Taemin trots over from the other side of the room and settles into the empty seat next to Kyungsoo’s. 

“Do Kyungsoo, you’re alive!” he exclaims to Kyungsoo’s obvious surprise. “Jongin said you almost drowned last night at some fancy party and he had to jump in and save you.”

Kyungsoo’s cheeks heat up in embarrassment, but oblivious, Taemin continues with a cheeky smile, “Good thing you’re okay. The kid probably ruined a perfectly nice thousand dollar suit by diving in, you know —ow!”

“Stop giving him a hard time, Lee Taemin,” says Jongin in a monotone voice. 

Jongin’s sudden presence momentarily stuns the two. Kyungsoo, especially, turns a deeper shade of red as he struggles to formulate a response. 

“Thank you,” he finally manages after a beat. “I’m sorry about the suit.”

Jongin rolls his eyes. “Don’t listen to him.” A moment of silence passes as Jongin studies Kyungsoo hesitantly. “Are you…okay?”

Kyungsoo blinks at the intensity of Jongin’s quiet concern. 

“Yeah… I’m fine.”

“…That’s good.” 

The bell rings. Jongin nods bye to Kyungsoo and rubs the back of his head as if at a loss for things to do. The forced nonchalance brings a small smile to Kyungsoo’s lips. For the first time since last night, he gets the sense that maybe things will be okay after all. 

*

When the lunch bell rings, Kyungsoo has more or less become absorbed enough in the day’s lessons that he’s stopped thinking about the situation with Luhan. He’s further distracted when Taemin and Jongin saunter over and ask him if he wants to go to karaoke.

“Right now?” he asks, eyes large and round.

Taemin laughs. “How do your eyes get so freaking big? Like I don’t mean it in a bad way. It’s cute. Right, Jongin?”

Jongin shrugs and looks away.

“But yeah, why not? We haven’t ditched yet all semester and I finally talked Naeun into it. Besides, you almost died last night. It’s cause for celebration. Let’s go!”

Kyungsoo looks to Jongin for support, but the taller boy merely shrugs again and deadpanning, “There’s no stopping Taemin from karaoke.”

And that’s how Kyungsoo finds himself sandwiched between Kyungsoo and Naeun 15 minutes later, as Taemin bellows his heart out in the small karaoke room. His seat mates seem entirely unfazed at the situation, with Jongin staring blankly at the wall and Naeun staring at Taemin with a pretty smile. Taemin doesn’t sound terrible, but he’s slightly off pitch and very loud; Kyungsoo fights the urge to cover his ears.

“You get used to it after awhile.”

Kyungsoo stares at Naeun in surprise. It’s the first time he’s heard the girl speak directly to him without Taemin as intermediator. Strangely, her smile is unchanged. It’s almost as if she’s speaking without moving . 

“It’s my way of showing support,” she explains in response to Kyungsoo’s increasingly amazed stare. Increasingly amazed, because her expression has yet to alter. “Do you think he’d feel bad enough to stay with me forever if I went deaf from this?”

“Er…”

“Honestly, I don’t think any other girl would put up with his bull for as long as I have.”

Kyungsoo blinks rapidly. It seemed bizarre and incongruous that a word like bull would slip through Naeun’s pleasantly smiling lips. He’s so surprised that he misses the end of Taemin’s song and doesn’t manage to stop Naeun from exclaiming right away: “Kyungsoo wants to sing next!”

Kyungsoo tries to shake his head in protest, but Naeun’s already prodding him towards the mike with an encouraging, if frightening smile. She says through clenched teeth, “Come on, just do me this favor and sing one song. Just one small break, that’s all I ask for. Okay?”

“Are you sure Kyungsoo wants to sing?” Taemin asks dubiously.

“Yep!” Naeun bats her lashes convincingly at Kyungsoo. Where others may see coquetry, Kyungsoo correctly sees a veiled threat. He timidly takes the mike from Taemin and clears his throat. 

Not well versed in modern pop songs, he reluctantly chooses an old ballad that his mother used to sing sometimes when she cooked. It was popular in her days, and no doubt reminded her of better times. As the first notes strum out, Kyungsoo realizes that it reminds him of better days too. Wrapped in the mantle of nostalgia, his voice grows stronger and more dreamy as his mind wanders to the years gone by.

He barely notices the room grow silent as three pairs of eyes fasten on him, first looking surprised, then entranced. 

One pair of dark eyes, in particular, can’t seem to look away, lost as they were in the forlorn melody that flows from Kyungsoo. 

***

Kyungsoo’s revived mood takes a hit when he walks into the office that evening. His colleagues look in sync and stare at him as if he were some unexpected misfortune that’s descended upon them. Only Hyeri looks worried as she struggles to decide whether she should make her over to greet him.

Trepidatiously, Kyungsoo walks to his desk and sits down to begin his day’s tasks. No one says anything for awhile and the tension hardly disperses even after people begin returning to their own work. Kyungsoo spends the majority of the afternoon on pins and needles. 

He allows himself to use the restroom around six, and upon returning to the work space, he slows down quietly and listens to the chatter that’s filled the room in his absence. 

Can’t believe he had the guts to show up today.

Yeah, right? After ruining last night’s party like that? I mean we planned so ing long for that, and the boss was counting on it to build his clientele network. The Parks are a big ing deal! I thought for sure he wouldn’t be so shameless as to show up again—

—Well, just look at him. He obviously doesn’t fit in here and really needs the money. I mean, he’d probably show up as long as he’s getting paid right? The little dipsh—

—Shh. 

“What are you guys all talking about?” 

Kyungsoo’s heart drops at Luhan’s voice. Part of him wants to run out while he still can; the other part wants to run up to the older man and apologize profusely. He hadn’t realized …

“I didn’t realize I paid you guys to stand around and talk.”

“Sorry boss, we were just taking a break. Getting back to work now.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t catch Luhan’s response, and he’s more than surprised when the man himself walks out of hte office space. Luhan, upon catching sight of him crouching by the door, sweeps an expressionless glance over him, then walks onwards without a word. 

Kyungsoo watches him walk away, frozen. A part of him wants to cry. 

******