---

 

 

To: Peter Pan

From: Prince

Topic: The Sun is Up

 

I take my dog, Monggu, out for a walk most mornings. I say most because sometimes I’m too lazy to get up.  But, my dog is insistent in coercing me to grab that leash to fulfill his insatiable need for fresh air and social interaction. I can’t understand it at times but let me change my first sentence. I take my dog, Monggu, out for a walk every morning. Besides, it’s not like I don’t enjoy the fresh air as well.

 

 

---

 

 

Kyungsoo smiled, finger tapping at his mouse as he scrolled through his inbox and chuckled despite himself. He inhaled then let out a shaken breath, the sun out so early this spring and the wind breezing in through his cracked open windows. Maybe, he should open them wider…

 

“Shoot!”

 

Kyungsoo sighed, turning off his laptop as Junmyeon shut the window. He tried to salvage his papers that were now in slight disarray from the air floating in.

 

Junmyeon groaned. “I hate the wind,” he mumbled, flipping through his stack of papers. Piled so high in his hands, they started to bend at the corners from rough handling.

 

Crinkling his nose in distaste, Kyungsoo stood up and placed a chaste kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. “Gotta go,” he said, turning away. No one received the emotionless sentences of farewell from Junmyeon’s lips.

 

The breeze smelled damp with an odor of pungent soil. Kyungsoo speculates it’s because his neighbors left their pots outside in the rain too long. Not bothered by the new sensation, Kyungsoo skipped past the old ladies and greeted them with pleasantries. He swung his arms out to stretch as they felt too stiff in the confinements of his sweater. His muscles tensed from the uncomfortable position he fell asleep in last night.

 

Two, three, four...Exchanging mindless words of banter and amusement made Kyungsoo forget about time. Hours filled with talks about small things and huge things and things he didn’t understand but enjoyed the words anyway. He restrained from smiling too wide to be normal as he passed the bakery to his east and eyed the road down west. Kyungsoo watched as spring grew in colors around him and was glad to be a witness to it all.

 

When he arrived in front of the shop, Sehun was already there, sitting still on a bench and staring far off into space.

 

Snapping his fingers to gain the young one’s attention, he watched Sehun jump back in surprise. He whipped his head around to find the object of his awakening. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Kyungsoo teased, getting his keys out to open up shop and let Sehun lead the way inside. They walked around the many tables stacked with books and shelves filled with endless amounts of fiction. Both headed towards the back where they shook off their thicker layers and grabbed necessities for the working day.

 

“So how’s your man doing?” Sehun asked, yawning as he tried with fail to get some tape.

 

Helping the poor boy, Kyungsoo answered, “Junmyeon’s alright. He’s fine.”

 

Sehun stood still as Kyungsoo placed an even piece of tape on his outstretched finger. His eyebrows raising with anticipation and giving him a coy expression. “Oh, you know that’s not who I’m talking about.”

 

Freezing in his tracks, the books piled high in his arms wobbled before Kyungsoo put them back in safe balance. Kyungsoo breathed out in relief at the destruction of literature averted. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ Spill,” Sehun urged, moving past Kyungsoo’s stuck frame in-between the cash register and the backroom.

 

“We messaged last night and he sent me mail this morning.”

 

“How are you guys still emailing each other?” Sehun wondered aloud, stapling random pieces of paper together. Kyungsoo watched him in concern, but let him continue his mindless actions at his rapid speed. “Like, I know you guys use addresses from that dumb online book club thing so it's still anonymous. But, I mean, I’m in college and the last time I used email was to send myself an assignment I worked on at home. Even then, I seldom use it. Maybe you guys should just try Twitter or Facebook- but then again that may ruin the whole Prince thing you got going on--”

 

“SEHUN,” Kyungsoo yelled, garnering the young one’s attention. “I appreciate the advice. Now may I have my papers back?”

 

Looking down with curiosity at what his boss may be referring to, Sehun gawked at the inch high stack of papers he had mindlessly grabbed from Kyungsoo that were now beneath his own fingertips. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah, ‘oh’.” Kyungsoo grabbed the papers and shoved them as far away as he could toward Chanyeol’s desk. Right that second, the financial manager came bursting through the door, arms up in the air with brown bags in his hands.

 

“BREAKFAST IN THE HOUSE!” Chanyeol announced, plopping the bags on the counter with eyes crinkled in glee. “You’re welcome brat.” Ruffling the other’s hair, Chanyeol ignored Sehun’s profane complaints and gave Kyungsoo a look. “What’s got Wendy all chirpy?”

 

Kyungsoo almost gagged at the name. “Why am I Wendy?”

 

Chanyeol shrugged and leaned forward to pinch the store owner’s cheeks. “You’re just so uptight and motherly like the little Darling is.”

 

Groaning and swatting the offending appendage away from himself, Kyungsoo reached for a bag. He began to munch on his blueberry bagel, “Get to work, you’re late.”

 

“I am not late,” Chanyeol complained, taking off unnecessary garments for the warm temperature inside. “Okay, I am, but you are too since you’d usually have the store sign open by now. It’s ten minutes past the usual time.” After that, he sat in his place in front of a large monitor.

 

Kyungsoo blew up his cheeks and played with his fringe. “Not my fault.”

 

“Kind of is,” Sehun said. He leaned back from his place behind the register and looked straight at Chanyeol. “Ten points to guess why.”

 

Chanyeol spun once as he gazed at the ceiling, searching for answers in his mess of a brain. “I...um...I-MICHAEL JACKSON!”

 

“Nope, for you, I’m ahead by three now,” Sehun gloated before reverting to eyeing Kyungsoo with an accusatory gleam. “Prince has struck again.”

 

“Damn, I was so close.”

 

“How is Michael Jackson even remotely close to Prince?”

 

“He was the Prince of Pop wasn’t he?”

 

“I’m pretty sure he's known as the King of Pop, not Prince,” Kyungsoo murmured, mouth still busy chewing his yummy breakfast.

 

“Then what does Prince stand for?” Sehun questioned, nostrils flaring down at Kyungsoo. His thinking face activated and Sehun did that staring off into the distance thing again. A second ticked and Sehun gave up. “Nothing.”

 

“Have you ever asked him?”

 

Pondering Chanyeol’s inquiry, Kyungsoo shook his head. “Never came up.”

 

Sehun gaped. “You’ve been talking to this dude for over a year and you don’t know why he calls himself Prince?” his fingers put the quote unquote around the apparently important word.

 

“Doesn’t really matter to me why he calls himself that,” he reasoned.

 

“Weird. But then again you call yourself Peter Pan.”

 

“Hey!” Kyungsoo yelled, insulted at the jab of his favorite fictional character.

 

“Relax,” Sehun said, sending Kyungsoo an unarmed smile. “Open up, would you? Customers are waiting.”

 

“Oh.” Kyungsoo ran around the counter, rushing to the door and flipped the sign to put open on display.

 

A sudden flash of yellow whizzed with an apology flying to workers’ ears. “I’M LATE!”

 

Kyungsoo’s lips quirked as he watched Yixing throw off his jacket in a hassle then stand beside a shelf with a practiced, full toothed smile.

 

Shaking his head, Kyungsoo turned to greet waiting customers. “Hey guys!” He said, high fiving the small kids already running inside. Familiar mothers and fathers shook his hand as they followed their excited children. Pitching down a stopper to keep the door open, Kyungsoo let fresh morning air fill the shop.

 

 

---

 

 

To: Prince

From: Peter Pan

Topic: Riding the Rails

 

Once I was on the subway and I saw a butterfly. Does it sound pleasant to you even though it's appalling for me? I find butterflies to be, point blank, freaky; thus, I stopped to leave the cart to avoid being anywhere near the creature. But, strange as it seems, the little thing followed me. I first thought it to be a coincidence but then I went on the next cart. It fluttered its little daunting wings and when I sat down, it rested on the pole in front of me. I still don’t like butterflies but this one hadn't been so bad.

 

 

---

 

 

Jongin rubbed his eyes, wishing sleep to be so easy to remove. Waiting for the coffee machine to pump out a cup of coffee to fuel him for the busy day began to be a chore. “Hurry up, faster,” he chanted under his breath in a desperate but lazy fashion.

 

A poodle ran around his feet, brown hair littering the white tiles of his kitchen and fading against the black of his trousers. “Monggu, how are you still so hyper?” he asked without an intention for an answer. Jongin flicked his wrist and sighed when his watch showed that he needed to leave. Now. He turned off the machine after giving it a final longing glance. Grabbing his jacket, he pat Monggu on the head before he rushed out his building.

 

The drive was short with only a momentary glance of tall buildings with large advertisements. His father’s company a consistent trademark in every screen. Jongin wondered why he was in such a rush in the first place with it being such a nice day like this. He should have grabbed himself two cups of coffee and took a joyride around the awakening city, and let spring blossom around him.

 

“There’s my boy!” His father announced once Jongin arrived at the office. The group of counselors settled around a circular desk, filled with papers and designs of a new store, made space to let him in.

 

“Did I miss anything?” Jongin asked, fiddling with the buttons of his suit jacket while sending tight-lipped smiles to members of the circle.

 

“No, you’re right on time,” his father said, ushering for him to sit and placing proud hands on his son’s shoulders. “The space is ready for our renovations and should be open in a few months give or take interruptions.”

 

Notes scribbled with haste on lined notepads whipped out from who knows where, Jongin eyed the edges of the table when curiosity piqued his interest. It made him wonder how these people wrote so fast. His train of thought derailed its hypotheses when his father beamed at him. He said words of encouragement that didn’t settle until Jongin shook his head and asked for repetition.

 

“I said,” his father chuckled, at ease and lighthearted. “congratulations son, we did it.”

 

“The bookstore right?” Jongin said, smile growing to mirror his father.

 

Sharing a firm handshake, the Kim men rose to their feet at the deal set and done. Similar thoughts wandered to books with discounts about to sell to the plenty.

 

 

---

 

 

“Did you hear?”

 

Kyungsoo hummed as he tallied the values of Minseok’s purchase. A loyal friend and customer, Kyungsoo leaned in to listen at what he had to say with genuine interest. “What?”

 

Minseok looked side to side, face unsure if what he had to say was appropriate at this time but he decided to spit it out. “There’s a Kim Bookstore opening down the street.”

 

A bomb dropped and the awaiting explosion hid underneath a palpable tension. Kyungsoo’s face fell from joy (it was a great business day) to confusion then utmost horror. “What? Why would they--”

 

“I am so sorry, Kyungsoo,” Minseok said, taking his bag and leaving as his message reeled Kyungsoo in for a reality check.

 

Small businesses were no match for such a large, well-known company. Kyungsoo felt his heart beat skyrocket then suspend at the cold realization. They wouldn't have to close would they? Would his parents’ shop that has been around for decades have to shut down because a megastore decided they wanted to go into literature? Kyungsoo shook his head, adamant on the fact that this small obstacle was inconsequential. It would not stop his friends or his loyal customers, that had been here when his parents were still alive, from keeping the shop running. Especially those who were there when his parents were alive.

 

“Kyung hyung!” Sehun hissed near lunchtime, when the rush was at a temporary pause for calorie intake. “Did you hear?”

 

“Yep!” Kyungsoo said. “And it won’t change a thing.”

 

“But--”

 

“We have service, they have discounts,” Kyungsoo said, voice shaking at the final syllables and his raised head started to fall. “That has got to count for something…”

 

Kyungsoo bid farewell to his customers and, after watching Sehun’s retreating back turn a corner, made his way back home. The evening breeze blew cooler than the morning and he tightened his sweater around his frame. It was never completely dark in a city like this. When Kyungsoo reached the end of the street, right white lights illuminated the area, making an almost spotlight effect. Only then did Kyungsoo lift his head from pitying himself by gracing the ground. The logo of Kim’s company was overbearing as it flashed on an advertisement to his right, so bright and synthesized. It gave the feeling like it was the most important thing on the street. When Kyungsoo shifted his eyes to the left, he saw walls of tall cardboards surrounding a building. Large cursive letters that daunted a message: ‘Coming Soon’.

 

 

---

 

 

To: Peter Pan

From: Prince

Topic: Fascination not Obsession

 

Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee...americano. I am not obsessed with that bitter taste but I would say I am rather enraptured with the feeling it gives me. It makes me feel energetic, like a sugar rush when you’re ten. Living without a care but being superman and obtaining that one nice blanket to wrap around your shoulders. I love my sleep too. When I wake up in the morning and the sun is up, I get a momentary wave of happiness at seeing a new day. Then I realize that I am up and my dreams have to wait for another approximate time of 15 hours. But, then another thought arrives for its due date, my coffee is waiting for me. Black? Double Double? I’ll take it all if you please.

 

 

---

 

 

Cringing in distaste, Kyungsoo set down the cold mug of brew next to his laptop.  His eyes roamed the screen at the new message and stuttered at the end of the paragraph. Fingers hovered over worn out keys and then dove in when words started to connect in his mind.

 

 

---

 

 

To: Prince

From: Peter Pan

Topic: The King of Kings

 

Are you royalty? Just a random thought since my friends got me thinking. I hope I’m not seeming too rude or invasive since I just got my curiosity ticked. It would be interesting if you were. Are you in a foreign country? Wait, you did say you lived in New York as well, right? There could be kings and queens here. Queen of the West. King of the East...Prince of the South? That’s an interesting thought. Or you could be Michael Jackson-- actually, nope, probably not.

 

 

---

 

 

“Kyungsoo!”

 

Startled, Kyungsoo slammed his laptop shut and shoved it underneath his arms. He leaned on it as an act of being casual when Junmyeon came out from the bathroom, face covered in white and a dripping razor in his right hand. Kyungsoo watched as water cascaded down Junmyeon’s torso. Blinking twice, Kyungsoo raised his eyes again, impassive. With a curt smile, he replied, “Yes?”

 

“Kim.”

 

Raising an eyebrow, Kyungsoo looked confused. “Yes...Kim Junmyeon…?”

 

Shaking his head, “No! The big Kim, like Kim’s company, corporation, the big man!” Junmyeon gesticulated.

 

Kyungsoo flinched when water flung and landed on his forehead. Chuckling in good nature, Kyungsoo stood up and pat Junmyeon’s shoulder. “It’s okay, hun, I know.”

 

“You know? My editor called right now and told me about the move in next month. You just seemed to think that I--” Junmyeon jumped forward to block Kyungsoo’s move at grabbing a shirt from his closet. Staring unimpressed, Kyungsoo still listened. “the succeeding reporter of the Gazette, one who could have published this news in your perspective.” Junmyeon spun Kyungsoo around and waved his arms in the air. Kyungsoo following the movements as his boyfriend explained. “‘Small, Independent Business Goes Against Name Brand Kim Company: The Battle’ doesn’t it sound amazing?!”

 

“Great,” Kyungsoo mumbled, turning around.

 

Groaning, Junmyeon wiggled his shoulders. “Kyungsoo, this could help me so much! Please let me interview you! Please, please, please?” Junmyeon pouted.

 

Kyungsoo stared, somewhat disturbed. “Are you okay?”

 

“Fine,” Junmyeon said, whipping around and Kyungsoo dodged the stray pellets of water that jumped off at the turn.

 

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo said, sighing as Junmyeon stilled. “You do realize that if that article goes out it would just bring unnecessary attention to the shop?”

 

“But isn’t that the point?” Junmyeon argued, stepping closer to Kyungsoo. “Those Kim’s have such a base, such a following, with anything they do it’s a guarantee that superstore is going to be a success. Soo--” he reached to place firm hands on slumped shoulders. “-your business is going to have a rough downfall. This could help. Everyone will hear about the shop that’s fighting and visit.”

 

“I don’t know…” Kyungsoo said, gnawing on his lips as he reeled the lecture Junmyeon just gave. The store wasn’t even up yet and Kyungsoo could already feel the dread. The buildup of the effects the store was already encouraging before it was even open. His customers were loyal since he took over, always reminding him of his parents legacy and how good of a job he was doing taking over the shop. But could they just turn away from him with a flip of a coin? As soon as the doors of that store filled with discounts and numbers backed up with words and memorized regimen, would he really be left out in the cold?

 

Turning away with a heavy stomach, Kyungsoo shook his head. He just had to believe for now. “I have to go to work.”

 

He could hear the retreat of footsteps, sounding much too light compared to his own dragging trek. Kyungsoo breathed, though that was hard as the hurdles he knew he had to face inched closer and closer to home.

 

 

---

 

 

His nose felt funny, clammy, and was that something poking his eyelids? Jongin groaned, arms waving from their downward position hanging off the side of his bed. When it came into contact with a fuzzy surface, Jongin poked and a high pitched ringing sounded, stirring him awake.

 

Jongin opened one eye at a time to let the blurry image sharpen until recognizable copper hair clicked in his memory. “What are you doing here?” Jongin asked, smile growing as he righted himself and let out a huff as the little boy jumped onto his lap.

 

“Uncle Nini!” the boy laughed, wrapping his fingers in the elder’s pajamas and giving a feeble shake.

 

“Sanghyukkie,” Jongin cooed, wrapping his arms around his nephew and giving him a firm hug. “I missed you.”

 

“You’re going to break my son.”

 

Laughing, Jongin loosened his grip and flattened the little boy’s wild hair. He faced his brother standing by the door. “How did you get in?”

 

“Well, good morning to you too,” Baekhyun scoffed, making his way towards the messy bed in the middle of the large master room. “I have a key remember?”

 

“Oh yeah…” Jongin said. “Why is that again?”

 

“Because you never wake up in the mornings and dad wanted me to make sure you were up on time for meetings. At least that was what it was like last year, you seem to be doing just fine on your own now.” Baekhyun grinned, and thumped the younger’s shoulder. “Feeling alright?”

 

Nodding his head, Jongin heaved and placed Sanghyuk on the floor, turning to plant his feet on the cold hardwood. All the tight knots in his body seemed to evaporate once he stretched. “Better. Father’s been running everywhere getting the store cleared and approved. All the important jazz needed before the big opening coming up.”

 

“Ahhh, I’ll make sure to drive down for it,” Baekhyun said, taking his son’s hand and making his way to the living room. Jongin trailed behind them, hands busy digging into his eye sockets.

 

“Where’s Zitao?” Jongin asked, twisting his head around to look at the corners of his apartment. The tall, broody and somehow whiny figure was nowhere in sight.

 

“Waiting in the car,” Baekhyun said, producing a mug from the cupboard. With a flick of a delicate wrist, the coffee machine came alive and a tick of the timer chimed every few moments.

 

“I’ll have one please,” Jongin managed to say through a stifled yawn.

 

Baekhyun laughed. “This is for you. You’re going to need all the energy you can get dealing with my kid.”

 

Jongin said, “That’s right.” his eyes landed on the hyper boy bouncing on his heels as he just stared admirably at his uncle. “Excited to spend the day with me?”

 

“Yes!” Sanghyuk giggled. Then he disappeared, though Jongin could hear the clink and clanks of drawers opening and closing. He figured it was the boy rummaging through the desk situated posterior to the couch.

 

“Don’t let him break anything,” Baekhyun warned and set a steaming cup of black in front of Jongin who snatched it as soon as it appeared.

 

“It’s my stuff he would be breaking; I don’t think you’ll need to remind me to be careful.”

 

A crash interrupted his reasoning. Both men turned to see Sanghyuk lying in a mess of paper and pens, one oozing dark blue ink which the little one dipped his fingers into.

 

“No!”

 

Jongin watched with wide eyes as his brother chased after the mess, Sanghyuk running away with shrieks echoing.

 

“Very charming!” Jongin called out as a breeze came with the males whizzing by. “Definitely a Kim.”

 

Sanghyuk paused in his sprint and Baekhyun skidded to a halt to avoid crashing into him. Taking this as a distraction, Baekhyun dove to wipe the ink from small fingers.

 

“K-I-M!” Sanghyuk spelled, prideful.

 

“Wow, good job!” Jongin cheered and stood next to him to give a high five. “Can you spell anything else?”

 

A pause then, “K-I-M!”

 

“Not bad.” Jongin looked to see an entertained Baekhyun. “Anything else, brother?”

 

“I hope to come back with both of you in one piece,” Baekhyun said, finger pointing between the two. “By the way, there’s a street fair happening this afternoon. You should go.”

 

“Sounds fun. Do you like the sound of that, Hyukkie?” Jongin asked and chuckled as Sanghyuk jumped and flicked his nose, which he just figured was a yes.

 

It took minutes to coerce Baekhyun out the door, with honks from Zitao a noise in the background. An hour gone by afterwards for him to get ready for the daily excursion with his nephew. Once done, Jongin locked up and grabbed Sanghyuk’s hand. They made their way downstairs and followed the signs set up against poles, advertising the street fair for the coming of spring.

 

It wasn't completely perfect weather, it could have been a degree or two warmer with less chill in the wind, but otherwise Jongin enjoyed it. He enjoyed playing with Sanghyuk, who stopped every few steps to gawk at signs leading to face painting stations, a mini outdoor arcade with whack-a-moles, ring tosses, and a variety of snacks with vendors in wild attire.

 

“Win me one, Nini!” Sanghyuk cried as a strongman game appeared in front of them with little bags of goldfish as prizes for high points. When exactly his nephew started calling him that and not uncle or hyung? In the end, he didn’t really mind.

 

Jongin cringed as Sanghyuk's over-excitement earned themselves a few stares. Shaking away his awkwardness and smiling at the boy, he promised to achieve the prize.

 

Rubbing his hands together, Jongin gave Sanghyuk a look. “Ready to win?”

 

“Yes!” Sanghyuk cheered, hollering at a loud volume as Jongin stepped up to the plate.

 

Feigning distress once handed the hammer (which was fairly small considering the entire fair was for entertaining the kids ergo everything was kiddy sized), Jongin bit his lip and looked tearfully at Sanghyuk. “Okay.” Jongin heaved and, with minimal force, swung the hammer only to make it tap the metal plate lightly. The small red ball lifted about a centimetre off the start and the words TRY AGAIN flashed in red.

 

“NINI!” Sanghyuk wailed and Jongin frowned though a teasing smile threatened to escape. Huffing, Jongin swung the hammer again but this time decided to spare the kid more agony. They watched as the ball shot up to the highest score, a ding sounding with congratulations and Jongin smiled at Sanghyuk racing in circles around him. Sanghyuk shouted his name again and again while Jongin just blew air kisses to an imaginary audience.

 

The clerk beside the prizes, who was watching with unrestrained amusement at the pair, stepped forward to hand the pet over. “Great job, boys!” she said.

 

Thanking the lady few times too many, Jongin shifted his eyes to the rest of the area, wondering where else to go. His fingers were still sticky with cotton candy residue and he thought over whether he could use Sanghyuk as an excuse to get a third helping.

 

“NINI!”

 

Jongin arched an eyebrow as he glanced down at the six year old jumping on his feet. “Yes, Hyuk?”

 

“Can we go there?” Sanghyuk pointed to a shop across the way, behind the basketball shoots and parallel to the stuffed toys hanging by a thin thread. Jongin craned his head to read the big yellow sign posted just outside the green wooden door.

 

STORY BOOK READINGS BY THE SHOP WIZARD

 

“Can we?” Sanghyuk begged and readily sped away from sight as soon as Jongin’s head tilted up to agree at the request.

 

The smells of ink and dusty paper wafted his senses and Jongin wasn’t entirely sure if he found it appealing. He did, yet, love the rainbow colored books stacked high on round tables. There were also shelves filled with cartoon covers hiding thick and thin hard books and paperbacks. Distracted by the quantity and quality of the products in front of him, Jongin failed to notice Sanghyuk turn a corner.

 

Jongin raised his head, finding it too quiet save the occasional whisper and shut the children’s book in his hand. His mouth curving to form the release of Sanghyuk’s name when the boy’s head popped out from behind a wall.

 

“Nini!” Sanghyuk said in a mock whisper.

 

Placing it back in the shelf, Jongin headed towards Sanghyuk and followed him through a few curves before a reading section appeared. With a tiny couch and mini shelves, Jongin presumed it was so that children could reach. A small, plastic table situated to his right and in front of him was a large group of kids sitting dispersed on a rugged, hardwood floor. Parents distributed around the area, some leaning on shelves and others standing still in middle sections. What they all had in common was that they were staring transfixed at the reader in the center.

 

Jongin blinked, hoping that his eyesight wasn’t deteriorating. A light was cascading down onto the figure, making him look surreal. Discretely edging to the left and seating himself down beside a miraculously quiet Sanghyuk, Jongin stared. Sudden realization that, indeed, there was light coming in through a window behind the ‘wizard’, giving him an ethereal appearance. Whether it be by chance, or planned beforehand, the effect was mesmerizing. Though, if it wasn’t the sun aiding the storytelling, it was the man’s soothing voice with high and low pitches at just the right places to keep the kid’s interested in the story. His face, soft looking and handsome, followed the characters emotions. Jongin laughed with the kids when the wizard made an angry face as he copied the Trunchbull’s angry roars.

 

“‘What a bunch of nauseating little warts you are.’ Everyone had the sense to stay silent. ‘It makes me vomit’...”

 

Jongin smiled as the “wizard’s” face contorted to maliciousness and noted the elegant touch of a pointed hat with glittered stars and veil hanging from the back. The story of Matilda never sounded so much better to him.

 

Jongin’s energy began to lack and he wondered where all the sugar from the candy disappeared to. He failed to keep up with Sanghyuk, who revived his relentless stamina after the story, and ran around the store. His goldfish bag sloshed in his small hand, and he picked up books as he pleased.

 

Business seemed to run fairly well, the store bustling with children and their parents, who stayed after the presentation to pick up quick reads for later. Jongin felt a twinge of guilt when he realized that their revenue was just around the corner and this shop would be down after they opened. Sighing, Jongin looked around for Sanghyuk, the little boy disappearing behind long legs. Jongin squinted his eyes when a familiar orange jacket appeared at his peripheral vision.

 

Turning, Jongin paused as the wizard and Sanghyuk interacted, the man chuckling at whatever his nephew said while the boy waved a thick paperback in his hands. Without making a sound, Jongin inched closer to the pair. He watched Sanghyuk get seated on a counter with the man taking out book from shelves under him. He tried to look casual by flipping through a magazine posted on rack and his ears focused on their conversation.

 

“I think you’ll like it,” the wizard said, Jongin felt a teeny bit sad that the hat was nowhere to be seen, as he heaved a hardcover out in the open.

 

“Thank you, sir!” Sanghyuk said, beaming straight at the man who stood at full height.

 

“That makes me sound so old,” the man said, and Jongin tripped on the bookshelf when the guy pouted along with a scrunch of his nose. “Just call me Kyungsoo, okay?”

 

“Kyung-soo?” Sanghyuk sounded and Kyungsoo smiled widely as the boy cheered when he got it right.

 

Kyungsoo huffed as he picked up Sanghyuk and put him to the ground. “Why don’t you go get your parents while I scan these?”

 

“Okay Kyung hyung!” Jongin flattened himself as Sanghyuk blindly walked by him, a chirpy tune hummed under his breath.

 

“Hey, I call you that!”

 

Jongin whipped his head to watch as another worker approached Kyungsoo and helped him add up the totals of Sanghyuk’s books.

 

“Every other person calls me that,” Kyungsoo chortled and Jongin stepped out from the shadows to see better. A yell garnered the attention of many, including the two just adjacent to him. Jongin slowly turned to open his arms at the running Sanghyuk, who immediately fell into the hug and hoisted him from the ground.

 

“Found your father, Hyuk?” Kyungsoo asked as he focused on totaling the prices. Jongin placed Sanghyuk on the counter and wished for his lips to move to make it clear that no, this boy was not his child. But, only a breathless whisper escaped and even Sanghyuk gave him an odd look. Jongin shrugged helplessly, which ensued a strange banter between the two of them. Both failed to notice Kyungsoo waiting with a price flashing green on the screen in front of them.

 

Jongin groaned as Sanghyuk wiggled the flimsy plastic filled to the brim with water. His poor pet swam inside the narrow space, and Jongin felt for the fish. He felt kind of stuck too. Jongin cleared his throat and showing a stiff grin normally saved for future business partners, he only felt awkward when making eye contact with the bashful looking Kyungsoo, who seemed shy when interrupting the uncle and nephew’s childish banter.

 

“Sorry,” Jongin said, throat dry and coughing to appease his discomfort. “How much was it again?”

 

Kyungsoo cocked his head, referring him to the price shown on the machine’s screen and wrapped up the books. Nimble fingers made record time of finishing the transaction with practiced effectiveness and gave Sanghyuk a much softer look. Eyes crinkling, his pretty mouth upturned at the edges, the first smile Jongin’s seen on him. Jongin wasn’t sure how he was still upright.

 

“Say thank you to your father, Sanghyuk,” Kyungsoo reminded, tapping the kid on the nose.

 

Giggling, Sanghyuk swatted the hand and captured Kyungsoo’s pointer finger in a tight lock, waving it around as he said, “Nini isn’t my dad!”

 

Widening his eyes, Kyungsoo stood straighter and looked Jongin up and down. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

 

“No, it’s okay,” Jongin said.

 

“Well, Nini,” Kyungsoo chuckled. “Thank you for visiting.”

 

Though it was an invitation to politely leave, Jongin stayed. “Jongin. My name is Jongin.”

 

Kyungsoo was turning away, Jongin getting an appreciative view of his side profile. He took the moment to gratefully trail his eyes down the curve of a button nose and full lips before Kyungsoo faced him again, obviously not expecting the introduction. “Hi,” Kyungsoo said, another smile spreading as he reached out a hand. “I’m Kyungsoo.”

 

The words were out before Jongin registered them fully in thought. “I know.” Shocked, Jongin ignored Sanghyuk’s snort. Water dripped down his hand as the knot on the goldfish bag loosened in his frenzied explanation. “I mean- I over-I may have been here already- well not really I mean I was listening- -”

 

“Kyungsoo!”

 

Jongin was thankful for the distraction but only for a moment. A tall guy jumped into step beside Kyungsoo and spewed sentences so loud that the whole store could probably hear.

 

“Starbucks!”

 

Kyungsoo asked confused, “What?”

 

The guy flapped his hands as he gestured to the cup in his hands. “That Kim store is going to have a Starbucks!”

 

Jongin watched as Kyungsoo groaned. He dropped onto the ledge of the counter, all of a sudden looking very tired. “Great, more money going to those buffoons.”

 

Wait, Kim store? Jongin, though it may be considered rude, slid closer to the discussing pair and joined the conversation. “Are you guys talking about that new megastore opening up?” Jongin tried to speak like any curious customer who overheard people. It seemed effective enough.

 

Jongin felt his heart drop to his stomach when Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. He traveled to his left, stationing himself in front of the register again. “Yeah, that Kim company has got to stop stealing business.”

 

“Well,” Jongin tried to find reasons in his head. Positive, positive, what was so good about the opening again? “That building has been empty for a while, at least from what I’ve seen. I heard that the head chairman’s son got the idea in the first place because he wanted to be part of people’s reading experience since he liked books himself. Maybe, I’m not sure, his father thought the idea was pretty good and took the chance. I mean, what’s life without taking chances? Sure it’s different than any other project they’ve done but it’s the son’s first initiative in something company based. Plus, it’s a subject he loves so-” Jongin paused, seeing Sanghyuk to his right looking confused. The image matching Kyungsoo’s face, though mixed with a little judgement as Jongin, he could say, was quite frazzled. “-give the kid some slack.”

 

Kyungsoo took a few seconds to compose himself after hearing the barrels of rushed explanations come out of Jongin’s mouth. “Still, I’m not interested in being one of those stores closing down just because Kim decided it was time for me to call it quits.”

 

“K-I-M!”

 

Jongin quieted down, feeling guilty for reasons he’ll tread over later, and watched Kyungsoo play with Sanghyuk.

 

“Wow, that’s great!” Kyungsoo cheered, pinching the little one’s cheeks. “Can you spell anything else?”

 

Sanghyuk stopped his cute wiggling. “K-I-M!”

 

“Okay then,” Kyungsoo laughed. “Is that your name?”

 

Noticing that a secret may be blown, Jongin swooped in, picking up Sanghyuk in one fell swoop and chuckling good-naturedly. Ruffling the boy’s static hair, Jongin bowed towards the others. “I guess that’s it for us! Bye, um, Kyungsoo, um, yeah,” he said, backing away and gasping when a sharp pain shot up his spine as he collided with a round table. Blushing, Jongin mumbled, “Sorry.”

 

Kyungsoo had his lips pressed together tightly, muffling his laughter at his flustered exit. “Have a nice day!”

 

 

---

 

 

To: Peter Pan

From: Prince

Topic: Ego Boost Much

 

As far as compliments go, I would say I’m undeserving of that one (I am definitely not royalty, far from that; though, I do wear a lot of silk). I don’t really know when I got the idea for Prince. I think because my nephew called me that once after I got scared by a spider and he had to kill it for me. Although I am ashamed of my ever present cowardice towards arachnids, the truth is that it brought me closer to him. A prince and his knight is a bond never to be broken.

 

 

---

 

 

Kyungsoo put down his phone when a groan interrupted his concentration and twisted his head from his spot leaning on top of the counter. The store was closed and empty, workers lounging around before making their ways back home. He saw a fast typing Chanyeol with eyes shining as the computer screen flashed with numbers and cryptic letters.

 

He heard the man sigh. “Bad news.”

 

Kyungsoo walked closer and crossed his arms, wary of what he was going to be told. “Yeah?”

 

“We’ve sold about twelve hundred dollars less than what our sales were last year.”

 

Kyungsoo gulped, letting the information relay in his mind and made measured steps towards the front of the store. The glass gave him a clear view of the streets, sidewalk and roads damp from the rain spring gave them. Passersby stood strong or slipped as they walked, hands filled with either tall cups of coffee and laptops hitting their hips or hands full with large bags with a bold company logo printed on the side.

 

It’s been almost three weeks and business dwindled much faster than Kyungsoo ever anticipated. Feeling bile and panic form a dangerous mix inside him, Kyungsoo backed away from the window. He calmed down his ragged breathing and placed a hand on his chest, forcing himself to relax and think straight.

 

“Yixing.”

 

Light snoring answered his call.

 

Kyungsoo rushed over to his friend’s side, giving him a light shove but a sharp hit upside the head. “Yixing!”

 

Jolting awake, Yixing blinked in a daze. A lazy hand carded through his mangled hair and eyes focused to clear in on Kyungsoo’s jittery features. “Yeah?” his voice was rough.

 

“Watch the shop and close it, alright?” Kyungsoo yapped, body moving as he instructed. Grabbing his coat and simple belongings laid around his desk at the back, Kyungsoo was ready to head out. Stilling with his hand on the entrance door, Kyungsoo wondered if he was overreacting. His plans of paying a visit to the bustling business next door were approved as he felt a strong shove on his shoulder. Now left in the middle of the busy sidewalk, the twinkling lights of his own shops design illuminated Kyungsoo. He gave Chanyeol a look that held silent thanks.

 

Burying his hands in deep pockets, Kyungsoo nervously fiddled with stray lint pieces, mind capturing pictures of the beautiful night. Though, he saddened when it was ruined by the obnoxious neon of Kim’s megastore.

 

Reluctantly, Kyungsoo admitted that he fancied the inside much more. The quaint reading areas settled at desolate corners near the ends of bursting bookshelves were someplace he would love to be on cold afternoons with a large mug of extra sweetened coffee. Kyungsoo watched people mumble and laugh, sincere happy faces.  Kyungsoo restrained himself from experiencing overwhelming jealousy at the service the store provided towards customers that used to be his. Slowly accepting the fact, Kyungsoo moved himself through aisles and sales tables. His finger ticked a rather large sign advertising a special deal and sighed. He wondered if he should grab some dessert from the Starbucks in front, beside the regretfully beautiful center space that had a wonderful winding staircase leading up to three more floors.

 

 

---

 

 

“Nice job man.”

 

Jongin spluttered and laughed as he set his cup down. Crossing his legs and looking at Jongdae in amusement, Jongin cocked an eyebrow. “Was that an actual compliment?”

 

“Yes,” Jongdae teased, “A miracle but honestly, this is probably one of the greatest things your father put up in a while.”

 

“Credits to me,” Jongin said with a fabulous whip of his hand. “But I’m just so glad so many people like it.” Jongin jumped giddily in his seat. He bit his lip as he watched with joy customers flow in and out all around him. Letting his view swim the giant crowds on an especially busy night, Jongin caught sight of a shining head of dark hair amongst the many. Widening his eyes, he craned to get a perfect view and lo and behold, he had his eyes set on a curious Do Kyungsoo nonchalantly walking through enemy territory. Despite childish labels, Jongin thought he would be named so considering he would be the fault at which Kyungsoo would blame his soon to be closure. Jongin wasn’t trying to be mean, wasn’t trying to be a bad guy, he was just aware of the reality, as it had occurred many times before. Right now, Jongin did not want to be seen at all and leaped up, sneaking an ogling at the figure's leisure. He hissed at Jongdae to follow.

 

“What?” Jongdae asked, confused.

 

Jongin flapped his arms around and motioned for Jongdae to shush. It was comedic, in Jongdae’s unbiased opinion, hiding behind the tall tables perpendicular to the rack of magazines beside the coffee machines.

 

“Dude,” Jongdae said, voice incredulous.

 

Jongin made a harsh sound. “It’s him,” he hissed.

 

Spiking up in interest, Jongdae turned around much to Jongin’s displeasure. His sights wandered around the immediate area to lock onto a petite body. “Wonderful,” he commented, smirking in Jongin’s direction. Fully aware of Jongin’s infatuation plus the backstory of the need for secrecy, Jongdae rounded to meet Kyungsoo halfway.

 

With an arm extended in a friendly gesture, Jongdae said, “Hello.”

 

Jongin groaned, over thinking and dragging a heavy hand down an exasperated face that felt quite hot (that being an unwanted mix between embarrassment, exertion and the scalding fumes of roasted coffee beans).

 

Jongin cursed Jongdae to every inch of Heaven and clenched his fists as he watched the interaction. He wanting to be in Jongdae’s place but still wishing he was much, much, much farther away.

 

Kyungsoo appeared surprised by the greeting and reluctant to accept the outstretched hand offered to him. Politeness and manners seemed to overrun his hesitation and Kyungsoo grasped it with a small smile. His pursed, thin lips were different than the free, thick lipped smile with blinding white teeth Jongin kept thinking of.

 

“Hello,” Kyungsoo said. Jongin followed the curl of his mouth forming the disyllable and his lips.

 

Jongdae stepped aside, arm leading Kyungsoo forward with a slight pressure on his lower back. “Are you enjoying your visit?”

 

Kyungsoo hummed, eyes wandering as to not meet with the man’s stare that bore into him. He opened his mouth to say something else, somewhere along the lines of distaste or loathing at the predicament that the regretfully kind stranger was indirectly included in. When he finally summed up his unwilling effort to look up, the employee was nowhere in sight.

 

Bewildered, Kyungsoo craned his neck at different directions to catch a glimpse of the man but gave up when deemed fruitless. He tiptoed away, heading towards the giant exit doors and gave a sparse glance towards an obnoxious sale sign before biting his lip as the night wind dug deep into his skin.

 

Inside, a smirking man watched his friend slide his fingers over the spines of books on a low shelf, in search for a book on manners and personal space.

 

 

---

 

 

To: Prince

From: Peter Pan

Topic: Question Mark

 

What do I do exactly? So much has happened in such a short amount of time, I have begun to question what road I have taken in life. Am I happy with what I am doing because I sincerely enjoy it? I feel these events are leading to a fork where I must make a serious decision. This topic is too heavy this early where the air is so light and fragrant with morning. I’ll change it now...what coffee is good for a day like this? I feel like you would know the answer.

 

 

---

 

 

Kyungsoo watched a single drop of water cascade down the glass plane facing a busy street with cars splashing shallow puddles. He blinked and the droplet broke into two, going their separate ways.

 

“Kyungsoo, why aren’t you dressed?”

 

The man sitting on the living room couch curved his head to face his boyfriend. Impeccably dressed, blue shirt and black slacks, wrinkle free and fitted to perfection, Junmyeon fiddled with his tie as he waited for Kyungsoo to answer. The man simply blinked and looked back outside, where the storm raging on ironically settled the uneasiness in his chest.

 

“I don’t feel like going…” Kyungsoo mumbled, a pinch of guilt making it’s way up his throat when a question went so long unanswered. “I’m not feeling well…” If his unusual paleness, a pure white before now hidden somewhere beneath a ghastly alabaster, was not a giveaway, it was his voice. It felt weaker than his knees, which were difficult to uncurl from his cross-legged position.

 

He heard a sigh, he could guess from disappointment, and Kyungsoo tried not to do the action himself. From fear of issuing an argument or a lecture from the man who somehow went from being a lover to an overbearing parent.

 

“Kyungsoo…”

 

With regret, Kyungsoo met Junmyeon’s eyes. “Please? I don’t think Yunyoung would mind…”

 

But he knew the man whose recent messages to Kyungsoo only involved references and words of excitement about his publishing party. He knew it was a lie and he was simply pulling on thin strings to find a thread with his ideal conclusion.

 

Junmyeon sat on a small space at the foot of the leather couch, a squeaky sound made that coerced strangely with the pitter patter of rain. “He would love for you to be there.” Junmyeon said, and Kyungsoo cringed. He suddenly felt like a child, needing a talking to. Slow and simple speech a must to be understood completely. “Just come, please, for me?”

 

Kyungsoo unfurled his legs, hearing a crack because of his long-time rest and shook his head to rid of the thoughts that had been consuming him. Exponential decay. He remembered the article Junmyeon contributed last week to his newspaper. He couldn’t remember the exact details of the story but he knew there was math and there was business. Kyungsoo could relate; he felt his business dwindling and all he wanted was to sit and think and hope. But, life goes on, and Junmyeon had been just as excited as their friend for the party. He’d hate to add another point to his list of disappointments.

 

 

---

 

 

A soft tune that was unrecognizable by name but the smooth sounds of low saxophones a distant memory flowed from a cracked apartment door. Kyungsoo played with the keys in his pocket, trying to keep his smile bright and normal. That way people would be distracted from the way he fidgeted and the way he gave numerous glances towards the exit.

 

“Mr. Do!”

 

Kyungsoo widened his eyes as he made it to the dining room where free food laid waiting for him to take. The loud voice, almost unheard as the jazz dominated everything else, disrupted Kyungsoo's pacing around the crowded room. He saw Yunyoung, smiling so broadly it made Kyungsoo happy he actually came, with a woman hanging on his arm. She was pretty, features soft and a small grin that Kyungsoo returned. They wore matching attires: his silver tie matching the sequins on her flattering dress, his white dress shirt complimenting her sharp pointed heels. They were a good looking pair.

 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Yunyoung said, his arm around his lady tightening. The woman stared up at him fondly as they exchanged more chit-chat.

 

Kyungsoo shrugged, lips quirking up. “I promised, didn’t I?”

 

Yunyoung opened his mouth to say something else but then Kyungsoo felt a weight settle naturally around his waist. Junmyeon appeared next to him.

 

“It took some convincing,” Junmyeon said, teasing Kyungsoo.

 

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and shoved Junmyeon with his shoulder.

 

“Why? Are you okay?” Yunyoung asked, looking at Kyungsoo in worry.

 

Kyungsoo waved his hand, assuring that, “It’s alright, really.” He nodded his head towards Yunyoung.

 

“Well,” Yunyoung turned to the woman beside him, “If you’re sure. Also, I’d like you two to meet-”

 

“Lee Hyeri,” Junmyeon suddenly said, eyes twinkling. “I’m a big fan of your work.”

 

Hyeri dipped her head to stare at the floor before she gave an airy giggle, palm raising to cover as her eyes squinted in glee. “That means a lot, sir, I’m a big fan of your articles.”

 

“Really?” Junmyeon said, his hand not busy steadying Kyungsoo scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. Kyungsoo chuckled at the sight, knowing Junmyeon was enjoying the compliments and positive attention.

 

“I especially enjoyed your recent article on the issue regarding-”

 

At this time, Kyungsoo zoned out, giving Yunyoung a small smile and reassuring squeeze on his bicep before detaching himself away from the small group. He wandered to the table piled high with plates of delicious looking food with tantalizing smells. Kyungsoo’s stomach gave a mighty growl and he placed his hand over his abdomen in useless attempt to conceal the noise. Keeping an eye on the empty dinner plates in a neat stack at the side, Kyungsoo didn’t notice the presence of another around the circular counter. By accident, their shoulders bumped harshly.

 

“Ah.”

 

Kyungsoo widened his eyes when the pained groan reached his ears. The syllables of an apology ready on his tongue but promptly fell flat when recognizable dark eyes connected with his.

 

“Oh?”

 

The man, dressed finely in a suit, froze.

 

“Hi,” Jongin sounded surprised and Kyungsoo smiled despite the almost abashed state the other was in.

 

“Fancy meeting you here,” Kyungsoo said, backing away to create a larger space between them. “Do you remember me? From the bookstore?”

 

“Y-Yeah,” Jongin said, shaking his head and clearing his throat.

 

“Jongin, right?”

 

Nodding his head, Jongin circled Kyungsoo until he was at his other side, his back to the rest of the crowded room. His sheepish smile directed solely to his company. “And you’re Kyungsoo. How are you?”

 

“I’m fine, been very busy with the shop lately.” Kyungsoo eyed the basket filled with bread rolls at the other side of the buffet. His feet made quick steps towards it and his head lifted to look at Jongin once he reached, “You?”

 

“Busy,” Jongin said plainly, fingers drumming on the bottom of his empty glass. Without a word, he spun on his heels and walked straight through the mass, disappearing from Kyungsoo’s sight.

 

Tilting his head, perplexed, Kyungsoo shrugged his shoulders and munched on some food, downing it all with a glass of cold water. He never favored the taste of alcohol, nor the feeling it gave his head. He smacked his lips, satisfied for the mean time, and a tap on his shoulder disrupted his movements towards a plate of various cheeses.

 

An old man greeted him with an awed expression. Kyungsoo returned it with one of perplexity.

 

“Hello?” Kyungsoo said, his smile shaky and unsure. He did not know this man, but the man appeared to know of him.

 

“I would have paid to see the day a Do talk casually to one of his competitors,” the man mumbled under his breath.

 

Kyungsoo was still confused, “I’m sorry?”

 

“You were talking to Kim Jongin, weren’t you not?” the man sounded amazed, almost as if he had information worth shouting to the world. “As in the Kim Jongin, part of the family who’s going to take over everything!” After that, the man walked away, leaving Kyungsoo gaping with a reeling mind.

 

He clenched his teeth, mindlessly squishing crumbs between his fingers as he turned to stare directly past the crowd of people. Kyungsoo’s eyes landed on Jongin, his bashful and chuckling image gone, instead he saw destruction.

 

Pushing through a couple tightly squeezed together beside a row of aged wines, Kyungsoo slipped in beside Jongin. The unknowing man distracted by the bartender mixing him a red drink. Kyungsoo thought it was fitting for the rage he felt.

 

“So, Jongin,” Kyungsoo said, facing his opponent and was pleased to know he had startled him. But, his surprise immediately washed over to one of panic. Kyungsoo would have chuckled but his lips were set in a thin line. “Or, should I call you Mr. Kim?” now he smiled, but it wasn’t cheerful. His cheeks hurt with the force he put into executing the grin, and if he guessed, it wasn’t a pleasant expression.

 

Jongin’s face went through various stages of emotion. It began with sudden shock, his surname audacious coming from Kyungsoo’s own lips. Then, a smooth transition to devastation, probably at his secret now unveiled. A final settlement into a blank canvas.

 

He turned so his profile was all Kyungsoo could see, “Who told?”

 

“Certainly not you,” Kyungsoo mused, appeased at the reaction; a blow to both of them, a hand for a hand.

 

There was a momentary break of conversation, the bartender sliding between them to set down a short glass. Its sides gleamed with condensation and insides swam with richly colored alcohol. Before Jongin could reach and stake his claim on the drink, Kyungsoo cheekily reached forward to grab it. Along with a sly wink, he sent Jongin a perky tilt of the glass.

 

Shooting it down in one smooth motion, Kyungsoo cringed when he was done. “Going strong today, are you?” He whooped, stifling a cough and forcing the pained sensation further down his throat. He fought to ask, “So was that actually your nephew that day, or was he some sort of cover up so you could easily sneak into my shop and spy on your fellow business man?”

 

“My nephew,” Jongin breathed, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip and fingers ticking with no rhythm. “I am the type of man, in fact, who likes to spend time with my relatives and win over their affections with gifts.” This time, Jongin expressed a comical grin but Kyungsoo found no humor in the gesture. “Sanghyuk enjoyed your shop a lot. It was the first time he’s ever been inside a place like that, such a charming little bookstore you have. What,” Jongin flexed his fingers, counting off numbers. “you probably sell 350,000 dollars worth of books in a year?”

 

Kyungsoo stepped back. “How did you know that?”

 

Shrugging his shoulders, somewhat proud, Jongin said, “I’m in the book business.”

 

“I,” Kyungsoo stressed, walking around Jongin so that he was now situated at the man’s right. “am in the book business.”

 

“Only difference is that I actually sell books that people can afford,” Jongin mused.

 

They eyed each other. Kyungsoo with a hard, steel cut gleam in his eyes. Across from him, Jongin was less angry, more amused with the banter and less rigid than before with the initial confrontation.

 

“Hey, Soo,” Junmyeon appeared, causing the tension to loosen. Kyungsoo reluctantly pulled away first. “Who’s this?”

 

“Kim Jongin.”

 

What confidence in introducing himself properly this time, Kyungsoo chuckled darkly. He curled in beside Junmyeon, arm uncharacteristically finding its own way around the man’s waist as he refused to look in Jongin's any possible direction.

 

Junmyeon’s face contorted into one of intrigue. “Ah,” he hummed, “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” one hand made its way to his chin. “With all the lives you’ve ruined by building all these corporate businesses, how do you sleep at night?”

 

Jaw stiffening at the words, Jongin stood still, unable to answer. A millisecond later, Jongdae swooped in, wrapping an arm around Jongin’s shoulder and, for a moment, knocking him out of balance.

 

“I sleep great,” he crooned, “Seriously, if you want to avoid hangovers, give me a call and I’ll give you this method-“

 

“Jongdae,” Jongin cut in sharply.

 

“What?” his friend asked, obliviously continuing his sentence even as Jongin shoved him off. Junmyeon, previously insistent on talking down to Jongin earlier, was now curiously questioning Jongdae on what he was eagerly explaining.

 

Two divested in each other while the others repulsed.

 

 

---

 

 

To: Prince

From: Peter Pan

Topic: Sigh

 

Do you ever feel like you become the worst version of yourself?

 

 

---

 

 

To: Peter Pan

From: Prince

Topic: Groan

 

I know exactly what you mean.

 

 

---

 

 

There was pristine coloring all around the skin but flesh gave away between his fingers. Kyungsoo sighed in fatigue as the minutes ticked by with a single apple in his transparent plastic bag. Ultimately, he decided to move on from that particular section of the grocery. The sweet smells of produce faded away until he stood in front of a foreboding aisle of snack foods. It wasn't exactly a clever option, considering he was leaning more towards the manufactured sweets to his left. But if he wanted a quick shopping trip just to fill in the empty corners of his kitchen, his nitpicking when choosing fruit had to wait another day.

 

An appealing chocolate bar was luring him with bright font and cheesy slogan just as a man appeared at the other end. Kyungsoo looked up and tensed as he recognized the other patron, who was fluttering in front of a shelf of chips. The name Kim Jongin barely registered in his mind before found himself already in another part of the store.

 

His heart raced with indistinct emotions. It was a tiny sliver of anger he focused on, red hot and his ears responded to the call, turning bright along with his exertions. Kyungsoo breathed in deep while concentrating his eyes on the ground, hiding his cheeks pinking with embarrassment. Other customers gave him odd looks while he hid himself behind a tall statue of canned soup.

 

“Excuse me,” a voice made him lift his head and curse.

 

“Sorry,” Kyungsoo straightened himself up, forcing his movements to be less stiff and much quicker.  The only way to evade the imploring eyes of the man he was furtively trying to avoid.

 

His basket was weighing heavily with items he’d snatched and was dragging him to a stop, the handle digging into his forearm. Kyungsoo winced and stopped at the freezers, reaching for the usual ice cream he buys. Another hand intercepted to shut the door just as a waft of cold air tickled his face.

 

Kim Jongin stared down at him, a smile tugging at his lips from what Kyungsoo could tell. “Hello, there.”

 

Silence welcomed them briefly before Kyungsoo sent a tight-lipped smile, preceding his movements to grab his final purchase.

 

He waved away Jongin with a passive flick of his wrist. “Bye there.”

 

Unfortunately, Jongin skipped up next to him, their baskets clacking together when their footsteps matched. “You wouldn’t happen to be avoiding me are you?” he asked, a small chuckle escaping when finishing his inquiry.

 

A lack of response from Kyungsoo proved to be the answer. Jongin halted in his steps to watch the man’s retreading figure make way to a line leading to a cashier numbered with a glowing eight.

 

His intentions opposed his actions from the party a week before. Driven by mere spite and disregard towards the other’s emotions towards the strained relationship, Jongin point blank said things that did nothing in helping the situation. Well, hopefully today was a chance for change.

 

He squeezed his way through throngs of busy men and women hurrying for checkout in order to line up behind Kyungsoo. Fortunate or not, he was still unaware of Jongin's hesitant presence behind him.

 

Shortly after Jongin summed up the nerve to reach out and tap his shoulder for his attention, the woman called out for Kyungsoo to move forward and place his items on the belt. Jongin sighed at his meek attempt.

 

There was a pattern of beeps as the cashier scanned product after product. Soon she announced the total to Kyungsoo, who held up his debit card in response.

 

The woman shook her head, “This is a cash only aisle, sir.”

 

“Oh,” Kyungsoo breathed, fidgeting as the eyes of numerous people behind him in line stared. “I don’t have any money on me, just my card.”

 

“Well, I’m sorry, sir.” She said, resolutely. “I only accept cash.”

 

“Is there any way I can just pay with my card?” Kyungsoo pleaded, shying away from the imploring figures to his left.

 

She rolled her eyes, hand coming up to rest on her hip as she leaned her weight on the table. “We only accept--“

 

“Can’t you adhere to this man’s wish and accept his card?” Jongin said from above Kyungsoo’s shoulder. Startled, Kyungsoo shifted away as Jongin loomed over him, eyes twinkling as he intended to convince the cashier to follow his pleas. “You even have a machine here,” he pointed out, smiling cheekily.

 

She became flustered as Jongin pestered her. It was less demanding but urging, with tilts of his lips and throaty chuckles as he looked up underneath his fringe.

 

“Mr. Kim,” she stuttered, snatching Kyungsoo’s card from his hand as she tried to avoid the crinkles of Jongin’s eyes. “I guess this is one exception. The only exception. Ever.”

 

“Thank you, miss,” Jongin said, looking down by his right to see Kyungsoo hurriedly grabbing his bags and making a quick exit.

 

“I’m not this compliant,“ the woman attempted to converse more but Jongin heard nothing. Abandoning his own basket, filled with nothing courtesy of a certain distraction, he raced outside and caught Kyungsoo walking towards a car near the back of the lot.

 

Jongin was panting when he reached Kyungsoo, who placed the last of his groceries in the backseat. “Hi, again,” he barely managed to huff, tone fairly affronted.

 

“Bye, once more.” Kyungsoo said, slamming the door shut and heading to the front seat.

 

“Before your dramatic exit,” Jongin stepped forward to block Kyungsoo from getting into his car. He sputtered a guffaw at the incredulity. “Could you at least spare a word of gratification?”

 

“I did not ask for your help, first off,” Kyungsoo said, stepping back and setting the foot that had made way into the vehicle before the interruption. “And I would have appreciated it a bit more if you asked beforehand if I even wanted your help. And no,” he held up a finger to stop whatever Jongin was about to say. “It isn't because it’s you, specifically, who helped. I did to some level appreciate the gesture but it’s the simple fact that you swooped in. Like some prince saving me from mortification. I did not need a prince. And,” he shushed Jongin who made a move to speak again. “don’t think this changes anything.”

 

Wordlessly, Jongin stepped back to let Kyungsoo drive off. With arms crossed over his chest, his mind replaying the scenes of today in a loop.

 

 

---

 

 

To: Prince

From: Peter Pan

Topic: Woes of a Bro

 

Remember when I said I had a big brother? Yeah, well here’s another story about our sibling rivalry.  Actually, I wouldn’t exactly call it rivalry per se, it was simply me attempting- stress on the word- to be just like the eldest. Think of it like all typical little brother complexes. I’ve always wanted to hold up the fort, meaning I wanted to hold responsibilities in our house, be depended on and help our parents as much as my little self could. In the end, it appeared unfruitful as always. I was belittled and shoved to the side. I was taught to leave it for others to handle. I hated the feeling of incapability, unable to be independent and deal with things on my own. My brother’s a successful doctor now and I am extremely proud of him- I do love him and we are still close. Yet, I still can’t help but feel so small. My job isn’t like his; though I fairly enjoy the life I have, my customers do not need me like the people who want healing need my brother. I’ve come to notice our conversations aren’t as light hearted as before but I enjoy what I can comfortably share with you. I’d love to hear more stories from you, I feel like we need to even my ramblings with your own rants or amusements.

 

 

---

 

 

To: Peter Pan

From: Prince

Topic: Head Boy

 

I find it amazing how different we are. In my family, I’m the youngest son as well. My older brother didn’t want to take over the family company and that caused a huge rift between him and my dad. They’re fine now but ten years ago, it was like sitting in between a lion and a tiger. It only stopped when I agreed to take over in his place. This put a lot of pressure on me and at first, I never noticed it. But, later in life I began to notice all the attention bestowed upon me. In ways I like it. In other ways I don’t. I appreciate the close relationship I have developed with my dad, who has prepared me for my line of work since I was a teen. Regrettably, it has also created some sort of barrier between us. It created an image for me; a domineering, strong character that is part of who I am but not entirely. For years, I’ve taken care of myself. When I was young especially because my father was busy with work, parents divorced so my mother was never in the picture, and my brother was too busy with his own life. I don’t know how to not do things by myself. But, in all honesty, I don’t feel like being either is completely a bad thing. We never stop learning so why should it be a negative to know one half of what’s there? Maybe we could help each other. I could teach you how to stand on your own. You could show me how to lean on others.

 

 

---

 

 

Autumn was a whirlwind of colors, red and yellows Kyungsoo’s personal favorites. It was troubling having to watch the steady decline of customers dwindle to worrying numbers. With a painted smile on his face, he sincerely thanked the ones who still visited his quaint shop. The air, breezy with a sharp bite on moderately covered skin, started to reach lower temperatures as of late. Kyungsoo, as he watched the last leaf of the tree outside his window dance with the wind that carried it to the ground, decided it was time for a change in interior decoration.

 

Sehun grumbled while scratching his nose. “How old are these decorations?”

 

He sneezed for the nth time and Kyungsoo lost count of how many times he’s said, “Bless you.” Reaching across the platform behind the front window of the store, Kyungsoo draped a red banner with green Arial font stretched across the material reading “Happy Holidays!”

 

“Anyways,” Sehun sighed, mumbling profanities to Chanyeol, who ditched their nightly plans to fix up the shop for the upcoming winter. “How’s your man doing? We haven’t talked about him for a while.”

 

“I guess he’s doing fine,” Kyungsoo sighed, tongue poking out as he concentrated on cutting a long length of ribbon. “Prince hasn’t replied to my email today yet. But he said before he has early meetings on Wednesdays so I haven’t thought much of it.”

 

Kyungsoo jumped and stared wide-eyed at Sehun laughing so hard he knocked his forehead against the countertop. Slowly, Kyungsoo asked, “What?”

 

“It’s just,” Sehun caught his breath. “You usually think I’m referring to Junmyeon when I say that but nope, today you went straight for your cyber guy.”

 

Realizing his mistake, Kyungsoo gaped, scissors and ribbon falling to his feet. “Oh.”

 

Sehun hummed, “Don’t worry,” he assured. “It’s not cheating until you to his diction or something. I think.”

 

Kyungsoo stepped back for a moment and faced outside, ignoring the rampant murmurings from the part timer. The streets were close to empty, seldom few cars passing by, with the roads glossy from leftover droplets of rain smeared on cracked concrete. Amber streetlights shone the sidewalks, spotlighting pedestrians who carried name brand bags and the occasional couple, huddled together when the cold buried too deep. It was a pretty evening, no stars because of city life but there was still a certain type of beauty there when colorful lights and skyscrapers coated you underneath their magnificence.

 

No faces appeared in his thoughts when wanting to share his feelings of this moment, only a black and white name.

 

 

---

 

 

To: Peter Pan

From: Prince

Topic: Knitted Sweaters and Itchy Blankets

 

When I woke up this morning, I had crimson, cream and coral coloured leaves printed in my eyelids. I knew- stubbornly- that I would face that tree with those pretty leaves once I left my home. I was surprised when they were no longer there but loved the chill of eight a.m. that came with the sudden change. Now it’s night and I am in one of my grandmother’s knitted sweaters that has a winking reindeer on the front and my initials on the back. I also have this small blanket that I have no choice to use because any other blanket is too far away and I am too comfortable where I am. Now, all I need is someone to make me some hot chocolate and keep my toes warm when it gets too late.

 

 

---

 

 

Jongin was beyond the stage of breaking out in a sweat. His forehead matted with his damp, dark brown fringe and his chin possibly led droplets to drip onto the screen of the treadmill. His shirt stuck to his back and he fixed it hurriedly before he lost balance. “Sorry,” Jongin’s words made out it in puffs of labored breath. “Say that again.”

 

Jongdae, standing beside him, shook the newspaper in his hands again. Giving Jongin a stern look before repeating himself, reading out a specific section of an article. “Hm…yada yada…Yes, this is the only interesting part… stone cold CEO with an attitude. Okay, that wasn’t that bad!”

 

Pressing a button to slow down his run to a leisurely pace, Jongin eyed his friend. “Is that really what it said?”

 

“No,” Jongdae admitted, turning so he was in front of Jongin. “Some of the vocabulary escapes me but overall, I’m guessing Kim Junmyeon was just trying to get some attention back to his little boyfriend’s shop.”

 

“Then why are we talking about this?” Jongin wondered, cringing at the relation mentioned.

 

“Because I wanted to know if you knew anything about it. I mean, with all the time you spend walking back and forth in front of that store, I expected you to know Do Kyungsoo’s life story by now.” Jongdae wiggled his eyebrows. “How’s that working out for you by the way? That whole sad, puppy dog crush, on the outside looking in, infatuation you have.”

 

Jongin groaned. “It’s not like that.”

 

“How is it like then, my friend?”

 

“I…don’t know.” Jongin sighed, hopping off the machine and grabbing the towel offered to him by Jongdae. “It’s…something.”

 

“Something being short, pale and a ball of rage.”

 

“Not to mention gorgeous,” Jongin mumbled.

 

“I heard that.”

 

 

---

 

 

Junmyeon was typing on his laptop, whistling along with the violins coming from his playlist. The tip tap of fingers against the keyboard paused and Junmyeon stared somewhere beyond the document. The gears churned in his head before he resumed his writing flow.

 

A loud bang interrupted the peace. Junmyeon startled and his hands lifted from the keys to cover his now rapidly beating heart. He turned his head to see Kyungsoo stomping his way through the kitchen and end his advances in front of Junmyeon.

 

“What did you do?” Kyungsoo demanded, throwing something on the table.

 

Junmyeon reached out a hand to shift the paper towards him. It was a copy of his newspaper, pages turned to his article. Clicking his tongue and angling backwards, his hands fashioned to rest on the back of his head. He looked up at Kyungsoo with a cheerful twinkle in his eye. “A favor,” he mused, shaking his head joyfully. “It’s one of my better works don’t you think. I really expanded my vocabulary.”

 

“My vocabulary is about to get very crude if you don’t explain to me why you decided to print an article as meaningless as this one!” Kyungsoo was absolutely seething.

 

It came as a surprise that afternoon, when Minseok swooped in with a grimace on his face. Kyungsoo, curious and concerned, asked what was wrong and was met with a face full of fresh press. Junmyeon’s article had summarized the past few months of worry, loss and hard work on Kyungsoo’s account (which Kyungsoo had to agree was accurately expressed) but there were added commentaries he had no recollection of beforehand. While, at first, Kyungsoo felt appreciative of the effort Junmyeon put in to create an article basically highlighting their shop- a call for attention, he could say- the things said in a negative light towards their business opponents Kyungsoo didn’t stand for.

 

Junmyeon sighed, “It’s a rough world, Kyungsoo. Sometimes you have to play dirty.”

 

“I didn’t ask for you to play dirty. And all of that was completely biased don’t you think?”

 

Shrugging his shoulders, Junmyeon stood up after saving his file, giving Kyungsoo one last look that implied an unsaid “You’re welcome.”

 

Kyungsoo stole one last glance at the insulting paper on the table and sighed in discontent. He transferred his attention to the picture frames placed on a windowsill facing a red-bricked wall. His hands traced the wooden molding, eyeing the photos showcasing his parents and brother.

 

His mother wasn’t alone in her scene, Kyungsoo as a little boy was there and they were playing around together in the bookstore. The Shop Around the Corner was practically a baby back then, newly opened and Kyungsoo couldn’t remember much of how it was brought up. Only fond memories of spending countless hours in the backroom with his dad resurfaced. A soft smile appeared as he picked up the frame.

 

“I don’t know what to do, Ma,” Kyungsoo whispered, fingers outlining the line of his mother’s dress. He slowly rested the picture back on the sill, his parent’s smiles fixtures in his mind before a sudden vision flashed. It had his father’s frown, a sad shake of his head, and his mother’s eyes, looking at him with disappointment.

 

“What am I going to do? What would you say, Ma? Pa? If you were here…” Kyungsoo placed his elbows on the surface of the ridge, chin settled on his upturned palms. His voice raised a pitch in mimicry, “I don’t know much but it’s important to keep things clean.” With a fond stare to his mother’s black and white snapshot, he spoke normally, “Thank you.”

 

A beep distracted him from his thoughts. Kyungsoo reached into his pocket and picked out his phone, an alert to signal a new email coming in. When opening the page to his address, his eyes grew wide as the first line registered.

 

 

---

 

 

To: Peter Pan

From: Prince

Topic: One on One

 

I think we should meet…

 

 

---

 

 

Jongin winced when a frosty influx of wind swooped in and nipped at his cheeks. He swore they were ice bitten red by now, far from a pretty pink. It was only through his nervous biting did his lips retain some of their natural color and not have turned an alarming shade of blue. But, all the layers and suffering through the incoming winter was worth finally meeting his Peter Pan.

 

“I never hear you talk about this guy,” Jongdae commented, tiny bits and pieces of crumbs escaping his blubbering mouth as he talked while chewing through a croissant.

 

“Maybe because you don’t listen enough,” Jongin reasoned, rubbing his hands together when they halted at a street crossing.

 

Jongdae turned to him after they watched the red numbers plummet down to zero and a hand appeared on the black box, the sign to wait as traffic began to move again beside them. “I am a supportive best friend and I listen attentively to your stories,” Jongdae argued. “Especially, ones about your love life,” he added.

 

“I’ve probably mentioned him once or twice.”

 

They crossed the street and shuffled past the many citizens strolling along with them that evening. Jongdae said, “So where are we meeting again?”

 

Jongin scrolled through his phone, searching for the name of the place they had decided on. “Café Café.”

 

“Ah, right there,” Jongdae said, pointing to the illuminated coffeehouse and bakery situated in the middle of the block. Smells of roasted beans roamed around in the air and the sounds of clinking spoons could be heard as they came to a halt. Both their heads turned to watch through the window, giving them a perfect view of the patrons who sat directly alongside it.

 

Jongdae peeled his eyes away to regard his friend taking slow breaths, “Are you alright?” he asked, a little concerned.

 

“Not entirely,” Jongin admitted, wringing his hands together. He puffed out his cheeks and stared at Jongdae with a marginally dazed expression. “Jongdae,” he said seriously. “I need you to know this and I’m sorry that I never really mentioned anything before but here goes nothing. This person,” Jongin stopped to emphasize and point a finger towards the building glowing yellow and blue next to them. “Is the most adorable creature  I have ever been in contact with. And even if he turns out to be as good-looking as a mailbox,” Jongin sighed and placed a steady hand on Jongdae’s shoulder. “I would be crazy enough to turn my life upside down and marry him.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“I know,” Jongin groaned, letting his arm drop only to bury it in his hair.

 

“He must be great.”

 

“Most probably.”

 

Giving a second or two for Jongin to regain his composure, Jongdae then patted Jongin’s , pushing him forward towards the steps leading up to the café’s entrance. “And he’s waiting for you,” Jongdae yelled as the distance between the two friend’s increased with each of Jongin’s calculated steps.

 

Just as he was near enough to see past the transparent fixture on the door, letting him view seated customers drinking coffee or tea in taintless white cups, Jongin immediately turned away and raced to Jongdae at the bottom.

 

“Check for me,” Jongin begged, hands fumbling around Jongdae’s form so he was the one being shoved up the stairs.

 

“You’re pathetic, man.” Jongdae rolled his eyes but complied with Jongin’s frantic motions, straightening his jacket after the shuffle. He scoured around the place, only to peek his head past the entry to examine the many clienteles. Jongdae called out to Jongin, “What is he wearing again?”

 

Recollecting his thoughts after sitting down stiffly on a park bench, waiting, Jongin hurriedly said, “A black dress shirt with a black notebook.” Perking up, his tone changed to pestering, “Why? Do you see him? Jongdae? Jongdae!”

 

“Shush,” Jongdae hissed, turning back to face the seated crowd. Black, black, hat, shirt, Jongdae murmured underneath his breath as he checked through the throng of people. He caught a glimpse of that dark shade to his right and craned his head to have a better view. Heart stuttering in his chest as his mouth gaped open and close in disbelief, Jongdae robotically turned to Jongin. “Found him,” he announced.

 

“Really?” Jongin just about tripped as he raced forward to stand at the bottom of the steps. His hands gripped onto the railing, “Well?”

 

Jongdae, pursing his lips as he watched Peter Pan fiddle with a black notebook in his hands before placing it back on the table, said with an undertone of amusement to hide his careful speech, “You know who he looks like?”

 

Jongin hopped in place, “Who? Who?”

 

“Do Kyungsoo.”

 

“Of the bookstore? That Do Kyungsoo?”

 

“Yeah. Oh yeah. Good thing, right?” Jongdae chuckled without mirth. “I mean, you think he’s good looking, so that’s okay.”

 

“Of course I find him attractive but who cares about him?”

 

Jongdae began to descend. “Well if you don’t like Do Kyungsoo,” he leaned over to speak covertly. “You’re not going to like this guy.”

 

“Why not?” Jongin asked.

 

Clapping a sympathetic hand on Jongin's shoulder, Jongdae paused before delivering the final blow, "Because it is Do Kyungsoo."

 

It took a minute before Jongin reacted. When he did, he surged up the steps to inspect himself and his heart stopped in his chest. Do Kyungsoo sitting in a table for two. He was undoubtedly beautiful in a fitted dress shirt, as dark as his book, but Jongin could appreciate none of it when the situation sharpened tenfold. He backed up from the door, turning away from the coffee house and sat next to Jongdae on the park bench from before.

 

“So…” Jongdae began.

 

There was silence for a few moments, both perplexed on what to say, minds reeling from the twist placed in their lives. Considerably shaken, from the heavy blow and confused whether it was disappointment retching in his gut, Jongin stood up to say, “Good night, Jongdae.” Then walked away.

 

 

---

 

 

“Would you like anything sir?” the waitress asked for the second time.

 

“I’m waiting for my friend,” Kyungsoo said, smiling at her thankfully when she said she would return later.

 

He fidgeted in his seat, jitters making him restless and fiddle the cutlery on the table. His fingers played with a sugar packet as Kyungsoo surveyed every time the door opened in front of him. Seven times he’s been disappointed to see no one with red gloves and a grey woolen coat.

 

Sighing, Kyungsoo let the hour tick by, meeting time passing with no care as he convinced himself of reasons why Prince would be late. A grin graced his features when the waiter came by once more. This round, instead of refusing, he ordered a café mocha to appease his chills from the drafts of cold from the impending night.

 

There was a chime and his neck almost snapped at the speed he looked up. Then Kyungsoo curled further into the cushiony chair, curling his body away from the door. He grumbled as Kim Jongin paced a few steps away, lips mouthing words on the menu above the cashier, still overlooking Kyungsoo seated a couple strides his right.

 

There was a scraping of a chair and Kyungsoo, bewildered at the proximity of the noise, squawked when Jongin sat down across from him with an indescribable grin on his face. “You can’t sit there,” Kyungsoo said.

 

Jongin shrugged his shoulders. His white turtleneck sweater a poor shield against the winter weather. He rubbed his bare hands together, definitely cold, “Why not? Waiting for someone?”

 

“Yes,” Kyungsoo nodded, making shooing motions with his hands. “So, please, leave.”

 

“How about I just wait until your friend comes?” Jongin offered, ushering a waitress over.

 

She set down Kyungsoo’s drink; a steaming short mug filled with a dark brown liquid and turned to Jongin, “What may I get you?”

 

“Mochachino, decaf,” Jongin ordered, smiling like a cherub. “So, tell me about your friend,” he ushered, tone still a hammer to Kyungsoo’s skull. “Oh, he isn’t late is he?”

 

“No,” Kyungsoo defended, crossing his arms and slinking farther down his chair. He willed the material to just swallow him whole. Unless, Prince was here, then maybe he would be ever so gallant and whisk him off to a faraway place. Shaking his head as his cheeks warmed at the thought, “and he would really appreciate if his seat wasn’t all hogged up right now.”

 

“I don’t know,” Jongin clicked his tongue, “He seems like a drag already. Are you sure you should wait up for him? You know what,” Snapping his fingers, Jongin leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “you should take that coffee and ditch the guy.”

 

“I will do no such thing!”

 

Jongin sat back and gave Kyungsoo a once over, “I am intrigued,” his voice gave himself away. He seemed entertained with their banter. Kyungsoo felt his emotions flare up in annoyance at the tirade, as if he was part of some game.

 

“Tell me more,” Jongin said.

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes flickered to the door (woman, old, fuzzy jacket, definite no). Complying against his better judgement, he said haughtily, “He is...” Kyungsoo reached for the stars to find the right word; if he was being dragged in to appease Jongin’s playfulness, he’ll at least do it sincerely. “Magnificent.”

 

Jongin gave a loud hoot, covering his snickering mouth with his hand after causing various patrons around him to give him disturbed looks. Coughing down his loud chortles shortly after, Jongin still had the aftershock of a good laugh. “He sounds like a douche. Drop him while you can.”

 

“I barely said anything,” Kyungsoo slit his eyes as he described the man. “And he is funny, smart, kind, passionate and worth so much more than you and your heart made of cash.”

 

Opening his mouth to reply, Jongin was then cut off by a rhetorical question.

 

“Tell me, if I scan your brain will I only see receipts?”

 

“How petty,” Jongin countered. “Just like that pathetic article you must have groveled your boyfriend to make. Such low sabotage.”

 

Both parties stretched their bodies halfway across the table and Kyungsoo reeled backwards until his back hit the chair. Clearing his throat, he slowed down his heart’s reaction to the close proximity.

 

“That, actually, was not my idea; Junmyeon’s, to be exact.” His cheeks reddened, a blush containing unconcealed embarrassment with a pinch of shame.

 

The air between them was stagnant with crippling awkwardness. Mouths tired from the spitfire and minds battling inner demons that had developed long ago but there was added worriment courtesy of one another.

 

Kyungsoo perked up for a second and Jongin followed his line of vision. The entrance opened for a family of four, mom dragged by a little girl to the display showcasing alluring desserts and a father carrying a baby in his arms. Jongin turned his head in time to watch Kyungsoo look down in disappointment. His fingers pulled incessantly at a button on his shirt and bottom lip being gnawed on as he shut his eyes. When he looked up, Jongin noted with concern how distressed he appeared. But it was gone in a flash and that backbone returned, vulnerability hidden underneath immeasurable layers that Jongin wondered how deep it buried itself.

 

“Not him either,” Jongin drawled, clapping his hands on the table. His chair scraped against the tile floor, “I should go, lots of work to do tomorrow, with lots of customers waiting for me to do it.”

 

“How have you deluded yourself into thinking you’re some kind of benefactor to the masses?”

 

Jongin halted, listening.

 

“No one’s going to remember you,” Kyungsoo continued, hands now on the table and curling within themselves as he lashed out. “They’re going to forget your store years down the line, forget your coffee, and forget all the numbers you’ve stripped to lure them in. No one’s going to remember me either but you know what? Everyone, everyone who has ever met my mother, the one who gave that store life, will remember her. Plenty of people, this year, the year before, the years after my parents died, our customers still come and talk about her; how amazing a woman she was, how special our shop was. You? You’re nothing more than a suit.”

 

Silence blanketed them as Kyungsoo’s hands freed themselves from the tightened ball they formed. They flattened themselves out as the wake of his unfiltered words left him with an increasing amount of regret. His mouth was still open, disbelief at his own actions and he wordlessly watched Jongin stand up. A mere glance his way that sent ice trickling down his spine before he exited the coffee house.

 

“Excuse me,” the waitress appeared at his right with Jongin’s order in her hands. She set it down on the table, “Would you like some more, sir?”

 

His drink had gone cold, completely untouched. Stoically he shook his head, staring at the door. But instead of watching, waiting, for Prince; he had a loop of a figure leaving, endlessly running through his head.

 

 

---

 

 

Jongin juggled the books in his hands. One was a children’s book, by Roald Dahl, titled the BFG. He’s never read it though his cousin, when they were little, gave him a copy for Christmas once. Maybe one day he’ll gather up enough space in his life to sit down and read it. He stacked it with the rest of the books in the Used section of the cart.

 

The other was a sociological book by Malcolm Gladwell, The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference. He had read one other Malcolm Gladwell novel, Outliers: The Story of Success, after his friend had convinced him to read other genres of literature outside his usual fantasy adventure. In retrospect, that was back when he was a teenager and gore, blood and other things outside of reality were what really drew him in. It was a decent read, he had to admit, and he felt intelligent afterwards, like he for once decided to do something worthwhile (and not just hideaway in his room with, give or take, 500 pages filled with different combinations of twenty-six letters).

 

The Tipping Point was about- according to the summary on the back as Jongin read, when an idea- trend or social behaviour tipped a certain scale and spread. He thumbed the pages, inhaling the musky fragrance, before setting it down after it triggered memories of the day before. It was a single idea that passed a point and spread, like the sentences that flowed out of Kyungsoo and hit Jongin straight in the chest.

 

Jongdae popped up beside him, chin resting on top of a tall shelf, “How’d it go?”

 

He grabbed more books and walked away, letting his friend trail behind. Jongin started with a huff, “He was rude, blank, no excessive amounts of outward emotion on his face as he insulted me. The only pleasant thing about Do Kyungsoo-” he paused, book in his hand hesitating midair, halfway to a bookcase in Jongin’s office. “...was the way his hair fell across his forehead and his lips when he spoke.”

 

Humming beside him, Jongdae had a smile that could make cats jump willingly into baths. “Sounds like a great catch.”

 

Jongin slammed his hand on the table and said sternly, “Don’t you have work to do?”

 

Whistling nonchalantly, Jongdae practically galloped away, office door creaking to a close at his cheeky farewell. Bones aching with fatigue, Jongin stretched his neck, forlornly looking down at the awaiting piles of worksheets on his desk. He lifted his head to his window, gazing at the beautiful view of the city, sun still making its way up and up. If he stepped closer and craned his neck a certain way, he could just see the street opening that lead to Kyungsoo’s shop. At the mention, his stomach flipped. It wasn’t with anger, disdain or resentment. Toying with the slightly wrinkled bottom of his dress shirt, Jongin recognized the same flicker of fear from last night; the chilling feeling that all of what Kyungsoo said was right.

 

 

---

 

 

“What if he took one look at me and left?” Kyungsoo theorized, heart figuratively on the ground if that was what occurred last night with Prince.

 

Sehun chewed on a piece of gum, popping a large pink bubble and stared at the ceiling for a few moments before responding, “Maybe he got lost in the subway?”

 

“Maybe he got into a car crash, slipped into a coma, is in intensive care and is waiting for you to call his name so he can follow your voice and then live happily ever after together?”

 

Kyungsoo and Sehun watched Yixing twirl the lollipop in his hands, mind somewhere else as his imagination floated to odd ends. Noticing their staring, he coughed, “Or he could have just stood you up.”

 

“Yixing!” Chanyeol called and the brunet gave Kyungsoo a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before trudging away to the backroom.

 

Pouting, Kyungsoo wallowed by sighing and muttering indecencies under his breath. Even picking up the simplest, most childish book couldn’t make him crack a smile and Kyungsoo worried how severe he was taking this. Thoughts of Junmyeon came and went, brought up by the guilt. But all the space someone else took in his mind left little room for him. He knocked his head on the counter, repeatedly thumping his face, in a hopeful way to rid off the guilt but the final result was just a sore head on top of all the messed up emotions.

 

Sehun rolled his eyes at the pathetic sight and shoved Kyungsoo sideways, giving an occasional kick, so he stumbled into a chair. “You,” Sehun picked up Kyungsoo’s phone from his coat pocket, “need to talk to Prince.”

 

“But-“

 

“Nope,” Sehun said as he walked away while sending Kyungsoo a narrowed, fixed look.

 

His fingers hovered over his keyboard, something so small daunting him and any courage that he might have mustered seemed stowed away where he couldn’t reach. But damn it if he wasn’t going to stretch his arms.

 

 

---

 

 

To: Prince

From: Peter Pan

Topic: Hello

 

Last night, I went to meet you and you never came. I understand if things came up and I hope everything is alright. Sincerely, I’ve been thinking of you a lot as of late and I wish I could just know why you weren’t there. In your absence, someone else came. And many things were said that I had harboured inside me, kept as thoughts, which then became words I spoke aloud and, for reasons I still can’t explain, regret. I’m not sure if I really want to reverse time and take back what I had said or the way I said them. I mean, this man is the cause of suffering in my professional life. But, I felt terrible. I’ve pinned all the hatred I have on the world- unfairness for the circumstance- on one man. I may have been right on some counts but I am wrong on others. But knowing this man- he’s probably forgotten what I said as I am so insignificant in his life.Then, I remember his face, a ghost in my memories, and wonder if I had some effect on him; if my words are an echo in his ears, repeating and repeating until they become his thoughts. No matter what he has done to me, my behaviour has no excuse. It’s taken me months to learn that. But we never stop learning, right? Anyways, I still really want to talk to you, to continue sharing stories with you. I really want to believe you had a good reason for yesterday, I don’t think you’d be the type of person to do something like that. The thing is, us talking like this- through this fashion of communication- means we talk about a heck of a load of nothings. I just want to say that all these nothings have meant so much more to me than many other somethings. So, thank you.

 

 

---

 

 

Jongin leaned back, letting his head fall to stare at his ceiling, chandelier bright in his eyes but the spots forming in his vision he cared not for. A smile grew and dropped, the cycle continuous even after he read the email twice, three times, a fourth just to be sure. It was like an invisible line was drawn down his body, splitting him into alter egos.

 

On one hand, he was Prince. Being the one exchanging messages with Kyungsoo, joy was coursing through his veins, overzealous in the fact that his sentiments were returned. It was like the sentences that he had been having difficulty strewing together were etched for him and he received instead of having given. Exhilarating, Jongin would describe it, a sort of giddy happiness that made his cheeks hurt from grinning.

 

His other hand held more woes. Being Kim Jongin meant that he was on a negative teeter; the one whose name has been called proceeding profanities undoubtedly. His previous approach on the matter was to just abandon all connection with Do Kyungsoo. He figured the shopkeeper would prefer that and if forgiven, still hold a connection via their usual ways.

 

Clap the hands and he’s one person with two identities that haven’t been put together yet.

 

Rolling his shoulders and cracking the stiff parts of his neck, Jongin thought of ways to reply.

 

Stuck in an elevator, the power went out, a pregnant woman gave birth and had to take her to the hospital where I saved her life and now there’s a baby out there named after me?

 

He paused at the ridiculous story created and backspaced all he had typed.

 

 

---

 

 

To: Peter Pan

From: Prince

Topic: Present

 

I am sorry. I can’t tell you why I couldn’t come but just know that if I could have changed the situation around I would have. I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me. I’m also sorry that you found yourself in a place that caused you pain. I’m sure that everything you said was most likely provoked and maybe deserved. In the end, we all say things we regret but we live through it. One day, I’ll explain. Meanwhile, I’m still here. Talk to me.

 

 

---

 

 

Kyungsoo shivered, nose Rudolph red from the bite of midday’s chill and finger tips only a tad bit warm from digging them deep into the cushions of his fuzzy pockets.

 

“We’re probably going to be writing to each other our whole lives,” he huffed, wisps of vapor appearing as he spoke. Yixing and Sehun chuckled at his exasperation. “Seriously, I’ll be sixty with arthritis and be still typing like a mad man on my laptop messaging Prince.”

 

Stumbling on ice, Sehun reached to straighten Kyungsoo up after his mishap and dusted away a few pieces of snow that flaked onto the top of his head. It’s been almost twenty minutes since they met at the shop entrance and the walk to Chanyeol’s house was longer than they remembered.

 

When they finally halted their promenade, a school ground was opposite the street. Children’s laughter flirted around them as they marched up to Chanyeol’s home.

 

His detached house sat between two larger, somewhat intimidating, estates which loomed above them, dark and mysterious. On the contrary, and with mild humor, his was quite quaint, with a warm brown wooden door and walls the color of lemon candies.

 

Yixing pressed on the doorbell. A three ringed chime could be heard echoing through the home and Potter’s barking, along with his scratching, immediately came. Chanyeol opened the door, grinning cheerfully as he ushered them inside, chastising Sehun when he brought snow inside.

 

“Ungrateful kid,” Chanyeol teased as he dug a fist into his hairline. Sehun grumbled and complained under the giant’s brute force. They only drew away from the rough housing after another person joined them in the foyer.

 

Luhan sprinted down the stairs, face flushed but Kyungsoo wasn’t sure if it was from the little bit of exercise or his enormous sweater. It was bright pink that had the words I’M GIVING OUT CUPCAKES AND PUNCHES, I’VE JUST RAN OUT OF CUPCAKES in comic sans font. His mouth perked up in a smile which widened when the blonde tumbled into Kyungsoo’s arms in warm welcome.

 

“Why do you never visit?” Luhan whined, rocking Kyungsoo back and forth. He showcased a pout.

 

“Busy busy,” Kyungsoo sang, squeezing Luhan’s bicep and giving him a generous smile.

 

They stuck together, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, as they joined the gathering in the dining room. Knowing their respective places, Yixing and Sehun took their seats. Following them, Kyungsoo took a spot at the head of the table facing the entrance.

 

Sehun rubbed his hands together, blowing hot breath in hopes to fulfill the lack of warmth but to no avail. “I might die from the cold before I get fed around here.”

 

“Good!” Chanyeol’s voice carried from the kitchen, where pots and spatulas met in clashes. Kyungsoo was bumbling in expectation. Last time they came over for lunch, Kyungsoo had difficulty returning home because of how stuffed he had been and how little he wanted to leave after eating so well.

 

A poke on his right leg alerted him of the dog pestering for attention. Kyungsoo chuckled and picked Potter up, the white Yorkshire terrier a pleasant weight on his lap. He’d always wanted a dog, his father as well and his brother too. But his mother was just as passionate in her abhorrence to the responsibility that came with a pet as she was with books. So that dream was pushed so far it was only moments like these that reminded him of it.

 

Their chattering was messy and loud, a fond mix of complaints and appraisals as always with little room for general small talk. Plates of food began to fill the clothed table, Kyungsoo feasting with his eyes and hands busy rubbing Potter’s upturned belly. Kyungsoo turned his head after he snickered at Sehun’s comedic adventure that morning. His eye caught Luhan come up behind Chanyeol, who was busy at a chopping board. He wrapped his arms around Chanyeol’s waist, snuggling deeper into him as Luhan listened to whatever Chanyeol mumbled about, gaze focused on the meal in his hands. Luhan didn’t seem to be paying as much attention, staring without waver at Chanyeol. When he turned his head to say something to Luhan, the shorter leaned up to steal a kiss.

 

A veil of green had covered Kyungsoo’s heart momentarily until he jumped when Potter started yapping, his paws digging painfully into his thighs. Chanyeol joined them at the table, setting a platter down and taking a seat across from Kyungsoo.

 

“Dig in!” Luhan called as he bound back to seat himself after shortly panicking when he forgot to turn off the stove. Little conversation happened, minus the few compliments and odd sounds of pleasured consumption.

 

Minutes, an hour or two, passed before they all stood up to help put the dishes away. Kyungsoo waddled behind the four backs that had hands carrying heavy plates, looking affectionately at all his friends. His heart felt warm and his cheeks were aching from his constant smile. He approached the door frame leading to the kitchen, leaning against it as he continued to watch. Chanyeol arguing with Sehun on who was to wash the dishes, Yixing sneaking more bites of food and Luhan taking out desserts from the fridge.

 

Kyungsoo toyed with his fingers as the words gathered together on his tongue, preparing to say, “I’m closing the shop.”

 

All four stopped their movements and identical looks that all held sympathy and understanding faced him.

 

Sehun dried his wet hands on a cloth, throwing it on Chanyeol’s shoulder, and walked up to Kyungsoo, swooping down to embrace him. Planting a kiss on Kyungsoo’s cheek, Sehun tightened their hug. Kyungsoo appreciated the gesture and wound his arms around his chest. His head nuzzled into the younger’s shirt.

 

“Hey,” Sehun stabbed a finger into Kyungsoo’s side, eliciting squeaks. “Don’t wipe away my love.”

 

“I’m not,” Kyungsoo reasoned, tickling him in return. “Thank you, little bro.”

 

“I’m not your little brother.”

 

They backed away a bit to face each other, “You wish you were,” Kyungsoo said.

 

Sehun let his arms fall, mumbling, “Kind of.”

 

“I’m sorry you’re losing your job,” Kyungsoo said, eyes feeling that familiar tickling feeling.

 

“Don’t worry, Kyung hyung.” Sehun massaged Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about. Take care, okay? Even if we’re not technically tied down by work, I’m still here for you.”

 

“Thank you,” Kyungsoo choked. Sehun scrambled to offer more comfort and rubbed his back, fairly flustered.

 

“Please, don’t cry!”

 

Kyungsoo glared at him playfully and shoved him away so he could go back to helping the others clean. The air was cold from reasons other than the winter, meaningful looks shared.

 

“You should take Potter for a few days,” Chanyeol piped up, voice high with sole intent on lightening the atmosphere that became sullen. At the sound of his name, Potter barked and wagged his tail, running in circles on the tiled kitchen floor. “He’s great comic relief.”

 

Their chuckles died down when they all heard a strange hissing. All eyes turned to stare, mixtures of mirth and mortification, at the yellow puddle that formed in the centre of the room.

 

“Potter!” Chanyeol yelled, chasing after the little guy that ran away as soon as his owner detached himself from the sink. He came back moments later with Potter in his arms, his hand, and a bunch of paper towels.

 

Kyungsoo moved to finally help, worries out in the open, and started to dry the tableware already washed on the rack. A weight settled on his back and he looked to the side to see Yixing smiling softly at him. His other hand lightly tapped his forehead, specifically the crease between his two eyebrows, smoothing out the furrow.

 

“It’s a brave thing to do,” Yixing said, hand beginning to run up and down his back in soothing ministrations.

 

Kyungsoo leaned against him, sighing as he stacked a few plates together. “It doesn’t feel like it.” And it was true; bravery should have filled his chest with a sort of surging power, a solid feeling that would help him stand tall and stable. It was only his stomach, he could note, that had coiled and twisted, his temples riding the same obtrusive rhythm that made him aware how easily he could fall.

 

Yixing nodded, resting an elbow on the countertop. “You might feel miserable and or like a failure. You’ve basically quit the job that was set for life by your family and imagining a different life that you have to plan for yourself is terrifying. But,” Yixing flicked Kyungsoo’s chin that steeped lower and lower until his unconfident eyes were staring vehemently at his feet. “It’s a journey into the unknown. Luckily, you’re not alone. Don’t wallow, alright?”

 

The end bit was more of a warning but Kyungsoo felt inspired all the same.

 

“We can all help chip in,” Luhan said, catching everyone’s attention. He produced a big jar of coins from behind loafs of bread beside their pantry. A good shake created a tinkling noise. “If you need it.”

 

Thank you wasn’t enough anymore to convey the gratitude he felt towards his co-workers, his companions, his friends. Kyungsoo settled for squeezing Yixing’s hand and promised that he’d find the best way possible to repay them all for the help that they were graciously providing.

 

 

---

 

 

The television served as a sort of distraction. Celebrity chefs were racing back and forth on the screen, upbeat music playing in the background as the competition airing was in full . It was a show that he’d been keeping up to date with. While watching, Kyungsoo played with the food on his plate, not quite hungry for dinner yet after that satisfying meal at noon.

 

Junmyeon seemed to notice his absentmindedness but didn’t ask or pester for the reason, only sipping his wine glass and speaking of his day at the office. Kyungsoo wasn’t listening very well, more interested in the cooking program. A commercial came on and he still wasn’t intent on divesting in Junmyeon’s woes but forced himself to nod his head along with the story replayed to him. Junmyeon teetered dangerously in his chair during his exaggerated retelling but Kyungsoo failed to laugh in time.

 

“Kyungsoo,” Junmyeon called out to him. “Kyungsoo.”

 

“Oh, what?” Kyungsoo put down his glass and sheepishly straightened himself out. “You were saying?”

 

The television veered from being a diversion to a white noise. Kyungsoo nervously pinched his napkin, seeing Junmyeon transform from being lax and undemanding to squaring his shoulders. He folded his hands in front of him before staring at Kyungsoo dead-on.

 

“I think we should break up,” Junmyeon said, finality ringing in the air and hitting Kyungsoo like a gong.

 

Taken aback for a brief moment, Kyungsoo let the idea hang between them before sputtering, “Wait-“

 

“Before you say anything,” Junmyeon held up a hand to signal a silentious atmosphere for him to speak. “I think this is for the best. I’ve been getting more and more devoted to my work and I feel like I need someone who understands that. Even right now, I’m telling you about the mayoral elections and you don’t even care. I’m not angry. I just think it’s time to stop this delusion.”

 

“So,” Kyungsoo began, surprising Junmyeon by slowly showcasing a smile. “You’re not in love with me.”

 

Nodding his head, Junmyeon responded, “No.” A loud clapping of hands snapped Junmyeon from his remorseful mood.

 

Kyungsoo laughed at Junmyeon’s face, the confusion and bewilderment a sight to behold and it added to the frivolity, “I don’t love you either.”

 

Sputtering at the revelation, the two shared a laugh before raising a toast. Of all the paper cuts that have been maiming and scarring his body the past months, at least a few have healed.

 

“I guess I’ll take out all my stuff later then,” Junmyeon said, good-naturedly. Ultimately, it was Kyungsoo’s place first.

 

“Take your time,” Kyungsoo waved a hand. Despite their relationship undoubtedly not working out, before all the romance, they were friends and Kyungsoo would like Junmyeon to stay as one. “Unless, you’ve got somewhere else to be tonight.” Kyungsoo wiggled his eyebrows as Junmyeon’s face dusted a pale pink.

 

He chuckled curtly, gaze fluttering down to the floor for a second before he picked himself up and cleared his throat. “It’s nothing much,” he said. “for now.”

 

“I see, I see,” Kyungsoo said. “I hope they treat you well. And can handle your rants on politics.”

 

“Thank you,” Junmyeon ran his finger along the top of the wine glass. “Do you have, I don’t know, someone special?”

 

Kyungsoo opened his mouth, ready for an immediate answer of a negative but stopped. While it felt like the truth to say so, a part of him was convinced there was deceit.

 

“Maybe.” Not the best answer he could have given but it was something and that notion gave him another reason to smile, an extra wound shrinking into non-existence.

 

 

---

 

 

Jongin thanked the taxi driver, slamming the door before it rode away and the momentary quiet cut by his blaring ringtone. He checked the ID as he walked the rest of the way to his apartment.

 

“Hello?” he answered.

 

His father has always felt the need to scream into the receiver and tonight was no different than any other day. Jongin lowered the volume so he wouldn’t have to distance the earpiece to withstand the harsh voice speaking to him. “What?” Jongin asked for repetition, mildly distracted as an old lady entered into the building with him, tiny little dog yapping.

 

“Did you hear about Do Kyungsoo?”

 

That certainly perked his interest considerably, though with the spark came a fizzle of shame. Guilt cracked his ribs that sometimes he found it hard to breathe simply thinking of transpired events. Nights came and went where all he saw himself as a distorted figure with a mangled cape and the reverberation of a name against justice and righteousness. Kim Jongin, the perfect antagonist. “What about him?” he inquired, trying his best to lessen any verbal eagerness.

 

“Well, he closed up his shop and some of my partners and I were discussing his possible future. Do you happen to know what he’ll be up to?” his father didn’t sound to be prying or particularly snoopy, just genuine mental acquisitiveness. He wound his way past reception and halted in front of the elevator, pressing the button to signal his voyage up to his apartment.

 

“I haven’t talked to him,” Jongin said. Their last encounter had been over a week ago and it wasn’t the fondest memory for either of them, Jongin mused.

 

His father hummed, “Well, he’d make a great children’s book editor or even an author, maybe work with us in one of our branches. Great topic of conversation he was. Anyway, I just needed an excuse to talk to my son.”

 

Jongin joined in his father’s laughter, “I’ll talk to you later, dad.” A ding and the golden metallic doors opened in front of him. “I’m getting into the elevator. Bye.”

 

Signalling the old lady to go in first with her dog waddling behind her, Jongin stepped inside afterwards. A gush of wind rustled his hair as a young man sped inside to make the ride.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, smiling sheepishly at Jongin.

 

He waved his hand, finding no mind in the matter and pressed the button for his apartment. Jongin, following the instructions of the other occupants of the elevator, pushed two other floors. The machine lurched for a second before smoothly moving upwards, a low hum sounding as the trip began. Jongin stuffed his hands in his pockets, tapping his feet as his thoughts raced through different topics but all ultimately leading to one.

 

It was a beep that made him aware of the stifling silence. Not the same noiseless atmosphere that was still filled with meaningless sounds of the metal box moving upwards but a suffocating mute that had Jongin look up. No numbers on the levels shown were aglow.

 

“Please,” the young man begged, shutting his eyes as he put his weight on the railing. “Tell me we’re not stuck.”

 

Jongin stretched forward to fruitlessly bang his hand on the door. “Hello?” he called out, but there was no response and the elevator failed to budge as well.

 

Periodically, he checked his phone, time going by at snail’s pace after their initial panic. The emergency button was already pressed, now all they had to do was wait. It was standing and doing nothing that made Jongin’s head throb until he couldn’t handle staying on his feet and let his back hit a wall until he slid to the ground. No words were exchanged since the situation first dawned on the three, plus one pup.

 

The exact time escaped him when there was an insistent tapping clawing on his jeans. Jongin raised an eyebrow at the dog pawing his leg and, from what he could guess, demanding to be put on his lap. He complied, bored out of his mind and his hand across the dark fur on the little one’s back. Jongin wasn’t sure of the breed, it looked like a pug but the nose threw him off since it wasn’t as squashed as a normal purebred would have.

 

“You must have a dog,” the old woman murmured, head lolling as she fluttered in and out of a drowse.

 

“How can you tell?” Jongin wondered, retracting his hand when the pup went in for a bite.

 

“Tutu hardly interacts with strangers,” she reasoned.

 

“Well, she’s very friendly,” Jongin cooed as Tutu reached up to his chin.

 

“Maybe, she thinks you’re a good person.” The old lady smiled gingerly.

 

Jongin watched the pup hop off his leg, hurrying over to its owner and burying into the warm increment between her fluffy jacket and giant purse.

 

The effects of kind words should have ran deeper but some walls of his self depreciation were thicker than others. So, while Tutu dug to find coverage, Jongin dusted away debris of the few that collapsed, shadows of what has passed still looming.

 

“How about you?” the old lady asked the young man huddled at the corner.

 

His head fell off his fist, blinking back the doze that fell across his eyelids.

 

“Do you have a pet?” Jongin questioned after offering his jacket to the woman. He set it across her front despite weak complaints.

 

The man smacked his lips together. “I have a girlfriend,” he said, taking out a picture from his pocket and handed it to Jongin when he went back to his seat beside him. She was fair with long straight hair, small eyes with a trickster gleam and impish tilt to her upturned lips. “She can be a real sometimes.” The joke was followed with hollow laughter and Jongin gave back the photo, unsure whether to join in the merriment.

 

“If I ever get out of here,” he said, caressing the image with his fingers, touch light and careful like he held the most precious thing in his hands. “The minute I do, I am going to rush to her house and apologize for being so stupid. Then I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

 

“Whoa,” Jongin breathed.

 

“I love her.” The man shrugged, returning the picture back into his pocket. “I don’t know why I’ve waited so long to do anything about it.”

 

“When,” the old lady stressed, sitting up straighter to stare at the two boys. “we get out of here, I am going to talk to my sister. Our feud has been going on for many years that I can’t even remember what started it in the first place.” She pet Tutu’s head and massaged her ears. “My apology is overdue. And I do miss her. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to talk to her, like sisters really do.”

 

Jongin nodded his head, thoughts churning out images in reaction to the wishes told. There were mirrors to his own life, something to be learned from the people before him that would aide in the future. He smiled gratefully at the two, sharing a moment of understanding between strangers.

 

“You?” the young man elbowed him subtly.

 

“I’ll...”

 

 

---

 

 

To: Peter Pan

From: Lost Boy

Topic: A Fallen Prince

 

I woke up this morning ready to relay to you my entire day like always. I left work with words swirling in a slosh in my head. But that’s where all routine similarities end. You see...at around seven o’clock tonight, I got into an elevator. An hour later, I got out of the elevator. I’ve seen these scenes in movies before and always imagined myself as the cowardly, incoherent dumbo with the lowest chance of survival. Surprisingly, I was relatively sane. Also, there was a man next to me who told me of his wish to propose to the girl he’d been with for almost six years. The only thing he wanted to do if he ever got out was to promise her his love for the rest of their lives. He knew exactly what he wanted. And I found myself wishing I was as lucky as he. I leave that as my explanation of the changes in our communication. I have dropped down from the throne, helpless in the jungle of reality, searching for reason and constantly unsatisfied. Logic tells me I need to sit down and think but I already do too much of that. My other half, in tune with my imagination and fantasies, knows that I need to be lead. So, Peter, which star must I follow?

 

 

---

 

 

To: Lost Boy

From: Peter Pan

Topic: Beginnings

 

Second star to the right and straight on ‘till morning. However, I advise not to specifically follow these directions. As one also in a hole surrounded by emotions, I can’t be the best of help. While you’ve been battling elevator doors and figurative fairy dust, the simplest idea of difference has got me trembling. Change is a good thing I sing as I bring shaky hands to my chest and clutch the photograph of my mother for dear life. It’s happened more than once. I’ll believe that as of now everything is changing for the better, that through all these hurdles, I am living. Everyone has taken on the habit of calling me brave- whether it’s sincere encouragement or a reflex to stop me from breaking down. I don’t feel like it. Brave isn’t the word to describe the empty cavity in my chest, the odd heaviness that follows, leading to a tickling in my nose, a sign for tears to come. Brave doesn’t compare to the knowledge that I’ve lost something so great that nothing will make it seem painless. So, my Lost Boy, I regret to inform you that I may no longer be Peter Pan. I have some growing up to do. (But, I’ll still keep the name).

 

 

---

 

 

The next day, Jongin rose from his bed feeling the tiniest bit lighter. Even his neck wasn’t as sore as it usually would be but he could account to that being his change in pillows. Monggu strolled into the room, taking Jongin’s slipper into his mouth and leaving shortly after. Jongin chuckled and swung himself out of bed, stretching to relieve any other kinks and ruffled his bed-head.

 

“What do you want for breakfast?” Jongin asked, seeing Monggu in the hallway and taking back his shoe when the dog began ripping out tiny shreds of material. The poodle barked in response and hopped in place.

 

A half hour later, Jongin was dressed and ready for the day. The news was blasting from the television though he wasn’t paying much attention, sipping his cup of coffee with greed. He’d made it extraordinarily well this morning. Jongin toed Monggu to side, who yipped before resuming drinking his bowl of water, and put the empty mug in the sink. The doorbell halted his movements, Jongin raising an eyebrow at Monggu since he had no idea who would be here this early.

 

“Jongin!” a voice shouted.

 

Scrambling to open the door to put a stop to his father’s disruptive cries, Jongin was wide-eyed when facing his guest.

 

“Hello?” Jongin said.

 

“G’morning,” his father cheerfully greeted, hands in his suit jacket pocket and swinging backwards and front.

 

“Morning?” he was still perplexed why his father appeared at the door. Usually, they met up at the office and nothing else. Odd as it was, Jongin couldn’t even remember the last time his father visited his home.

 

His father clapped a meaty hand on his shoulder, making him stumble forward a bit before correcting himself. “Come join your pops for coffee,” he said, already turning around and walking down the hallway.

 

Jongin opened his mouth to comment how he’d already drank a cup but shut it when he figured it would be dishonest if he had complaints having another. “Wait!” he called out, getting all his things.

 

He disheveled the hair on Monggu’s head and raced through the hall to meet his dad waiting at the elevator. Fortunate for him, no discomfort came at the prospect of using one again. The experience left him less fear to feel in replacement to the lessons learned. The trip down to the lobby was peaceful.

 

Outside, no snow was falling and the flakes on the ground were starting to disintegrate with all the salt scattered and the constant march of citizen footsteps. The temperature was slowly rising with each passing day; Jongin looked forward to spring.

 

It took around ten minutes to walk to the coffee shop near Jongin’s house, and when they entered, the smell was overwhelming perfection. They filed in line and there was a tranquil silence between the two, waiting for their turn. Jongin bobbed his head to the guitar strings sounding from the speakers.

 

“So,” his father began, after they had gotten their orders and sat beside a window overlooking the busy, crowded streets of New York. Jongin watched a group of school kids jog past but listened attentively to what his father was saying. “How’s your dating game?”

 

He spluttered on his coffee, wiping away the spots that dripped onto his chin. Jongin giggled, “Dating game? Really, dad?”

 

“What?” he shrugged, stirring more cream into his cup. “When I heard about last night all I could think of was that I was never going to have any more grandkids.”

 

“I love where your priorities lie,” Jongin said, raising his drink in salute to his father. “But, it’s at a plateau right now, since you so graciously asked.”

 

“Then what’s stopping you from elevating it?”

 

Jongin had no answer, turning to stare at a tree that had bits of bright green peeking out from underneath the melting layer of bushes of snow. He’s been waiting months for the transformation between the seasons, the steady shift between the monochrome shades and the palette colors of spring. He knew one other person who shared his opinions on the progression from white to yellow, grey to blue, snowflakes to petals blowing in the wind. Time was dwindling until his favorite time of the year. He couldn't wait.

 

 

---

 

 

“Sorry, Chanyeol.” Kyungsoo wheezed, blowing his nose into a tissue and flopping backwards onto his couch. “I can’t hear you over my brain coming out of my nose.”

 

He could hear gagging on the other end, “Too much information, man. Listen- Sehun, Yixing and I have it under control and Junmyeon said he could drop off some stuff at your place later if you needed anything so just text any one of us alright? Get better, buddy.”

 

The click of the phone preceded the resounding buzz, and then the stillness of his apartment surrounded him in a lull. Usually when he stayed home, whether for illness or dire reasons that forced him to leave the shop, Junmyeon was there sitting at the table with his laptop, restless taps on the keyboard a constant. Kyungsoo the television, in hopes to drown the atmosphere with useless noise and possibly fall asleep while filling in noiseless spaces.

 

The effectiveness of tuned out conversation in the background proved that Kyungsoo underestimated the power of reality show lullabies. The clock showed the time to be three o’clock in the afternoon and Chanyeol’s phone call came a little after lunch. His nap revived him a bit, catching his body up on the sleep he lost last night because of an itchy throat and relentless coughs. Speaking of the stupid virus he caught in the shifts between winter and spring, Kyungsoo was due to drink his medicine. He hated cherry flavored things but Junmyeon had loved them so he swallowed with great difficulty the only cold syrup in the pantry.

 

Kyungsoo stopped when a knock pounded on his door. He thought of who would be here at this time. Muddled since it couldn’t be Junmyeon, he was still at work and the others were still taking care of things at the shop, he treaded towards the entrance.

 

The same someone then called out, “Kyungsoo?”

 

He recognized the voice though he still hesitated in opening.

 

“I come in peace!”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Kyungsoo swung the door open and met face to face with a fidgety Kim Jongin.

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, cursing that he couldn’t summon any hostility in his voice. With his nose clogged, the stern demand came out in a cute squeak. He also shouted vulgarities at whoever decided it was a good time for him to be seen in a bathrobe.

 

“I,” Jongin said, rocking back and forth on his heels. “visited the shop today and saw you weren’t there. They said you were sick, and Junmyeon, wasn’t, you guys, um, so...” He gestured to the pot of flowers in his hands. Kyungsoo was in awe of them. It was such a lovely bunch of white peonies, with little inserts of delicate snowdrops.

 

Kyungsoo sighed, infatuated with the gift. “Did you really come over because you heard I was sick?”

 

A nod.

 

The image presented to him was contrasting the memory of Kim Jongin from months back. He’d always associated things like shredded paper and broken bindings with his self proclaimed enemy. The fumbling man nervously bit his lip and constantly fixed his fringe which portrayed nothing close to destruction.

 

All the rejuvenation from his afternoon nap seeped out of him in increments, bit by bit his energy escaped until he stared at Jongin with nothing to say but soft whines. The other appeared bewildered at the odd noises, carefully entering the apartment when Kyungsoo invited him inside.

 

After he set the pot down on the dining table, Kyungsoo whimpered, “You brought flowers.”

 

Jongin looked startled for a second, retracting upright. “Do you not like flowers?”

 

“I love flowers,” Kyungsoo clarified, subconsciously his bottom lip jutted into a pout. He plopped down onto the chair across from them, the fragile petals. “Especially these flowers.”

 

“Well, they’re for you.” Jongin smiled amiably, seating himself.

 

“Great,” Kyungsoo said, flailing and accidentally hitting his hand but he was too distracted to feel any pain. “I feel inclined to say thank you.”

 

Jongin said from beside him, “I’m fairly sure that it’s basic procedure when it comes to friendly gestures.”

 

“But I don’t want to say thank you.” He looked fuddled. “It’s weird being nice to you, you ruined my life, why are you so nice?” his mangled groans continued.

 

“You can take this as a white flag.” Kyungsoo raised his head after he thumped it a few times on the table, meeting Jongin’s eyes. All he’s seen in them have been the effects of altercation; it was pleasant to note they were a pretty, coffee misted brown. “Or in this case white flowers.”

 

Kyungsoo whipped his head around, the movement making him see little white spots in his vision and he stood up just as quickly. “That’s not fair. I want to laugh.”

 

There was a short bark of laughter that was quickly covered up. Kyungsoo watched Jongin ask, “Are you always like this?”

 

“Sometimes, mostly, occasionally...I’ll-“ Kyungsoo squinted his eyes and reeled back. “get back to you.” Then he sneezed and a tissue was shoved in his hands. Skin brushed and Kyungsoo enjoyed the second of warmth in his current condition.

 

“You should sit down,” Jongin instructed, standing up and pushing Kyungsoo back down onto his chair. “Want me to make you some tea?”

 

“Sure,” Kyungsoo said, laying his head on the table when it felt like his brain was being squished. He rubbed his finger into his temple, demanding the headache to disappear. Watching Jongin float comfortably in his kitchen, Kyungsoo called out, “This is my place, how are you so comfortable?” It was still hard to process that the one person he’d least likely have over was currently making him a cup of tea. Not completely unwelcome but strange, especially since he thought he’d scared Jongin away for good.

 

“I’m just making sure you’re comfortable,” Jongin reasoned, taking a seat and serving steaming mugs. Aromatic scents bathed his face with vapor and Kyungsoo breathed it in.

 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, sipping the hot beverage and enjoying the warmth that traveled through his body. Kyungsoo’s fingers danced on the rim of the mug, wondering what to say. “Having someone you used to hate in your house, walking around freely, isn’t the most ideal.”

 

Jongin swallowed. “Used to? Past tense?”

 

There was that hint of inquisitiveness in his voice that made Kyungsoo look up. Along with it came certain intrigue, the slow formation of a smile and the bashful way he carried himself waiting for a reply. “I never hated you,” Kyungsoo decided, ignoring the surprise Jongin had after he answered.

 

“You’ll never forgive me though,” Jongin said, playing with the tea bag, dipping it in and out of the water.

 

“And that’s horrible. I’m horrible. Even with all the things that you’ve done, I have no excuse.”

 

“Whereas I’m just a horrible person in general?”

 

Kyungsoo grumbled, “I didn’t really mean to say all those bad things.”

 

“I understand.” Jongin watched Kyungsoo slap himself on the head. “Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. I put you out of business, and you’re entitled to be angry. I don’t expect friendship anytime soon. But I do want to be your friend.”

 

“Really?” Kyungsoo said, incredulous. “After everything?”

 

“It would be a great plot twist,” Jongin cheekily grinned. “Even if it doesn’t sound possible- can’t a guy try for the impossible?”

 

Kyungsoo made a pitiful sound when his heart decided to skip a beat, “My head is feeling fuzzy.” And stood up, taking the pot of flowers with him to place on the bedside table in his room.

 

In the middle of his motions, furrowing himself into his bed covers, Jongin appeared, swinging on the door frame as he hovered in and out of the chamber.

 

“Can I ask you a question?”

 

Kyungsoo stilled, swallowing the cough developing in his tickling throat. “Sure.”

 

“What happened between you and that guy you were waiting for at the cafe?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Jongin walked forward, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he prodded, “But you’re crazy about him?”

 

Slight embarrassment embedded within the pinking of his cheeks. “Is it obvious?”

 

“No,” Jongin lowered himself onto the edge of Kyungsoo’s bed. “It was just a good guess. So, why don’t you run off with him or something?”

 

Groaning, Kyungsoo dug his face into his hands, thrashing around on his bed. Jongin could barely hear the muffled cries he was saying.

 

“Could you repeat that?”

 

“I said that I don’t even know him.” Then he made a pitiful sound and covered his face with a pillow. “If I told you everything you probably wouldn’t believe me.”

 

“It’s not like you met online, right?”

 

Kyungsoo lifted his head and said with the straightest face, “Yes.”

 

“No!”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Alright.” Jongin stood up and began to unroll the bedspread that was neatly folded at the foot, comfortably tucking Kyungsoo underneath the soft blanket. “Here’s my advice. You should meet him.”

 

“I tried that and it didn’t work.”

 

“Just try again,” Jongin explained, sitting down.”Wait, I take that back. You shouldn’t meet someone you’re in love with.”

 

Kyungsoo made a face, one where his eyes hardened and glowered. “Hey, you can’t tell me what to-“

 

Jongin covered Kyungsoo’s mouth, effectively silencing him. “I’ve come to notice that I bring out the worst in you and that this attitude of yours only comes up when I’m around. This is simply my precaution to help put a stop to things you may regret in the future.”

 

Wide eyes stared back at Jongin imploringly as he slowly retracted his hand, fingers grazing his lips when he let go.

 

His mouth usually didn't feel all tingly when he was sick.

 

“Get better soon,” Jongin said. “It would be a shame to miss New York in the spring.”

 

Kyungsoo watched him stand up, reluctant to admit a part of him wanted to stay since the greater half needed him far away in order to think (to sort his muddled thoughts and his lips still felt like they were star-kissed).

 

“Bye,” Jongin said, walking backwards out the door.

 

His voice was so gentle like caressing velvet.

 

Kyungsoo managed to mutter a farewell, gaze unfocused. They shared the briefest of smiles before Jongin retreated out the door.

 

The bubbling in his chest was starting to become a hindrance and Kyungsoo’s only solution was to burrow under the covers, trusting it would subdue. And maybe yell a few times for extra measure.

 

 

---

 

 

To: Lost Boy

From: Peter Pan

Topic: Second Chance

 

What do you say to the idea of trying to meet again?

 

 

---

 

 

To: Peter Pan

From: Lost Boy

Topic: Balancing Act

 

I would love to but I am in the middle of a dilemma right now…this project is consuming all my free time.

 

 

---

 

 

“I used to come here with my own mom when I was a kid,” the customer shook Kyungsoo’s hand vigorously, traces of tears appearing in her eyes. “You’ve done a fine job running this shop young man, your parents would be so proud.”

 

“Thank you so much,” Kyungsoo said, reeling in the weeping woman for a hug. “Here.” he handed her a few pieces of tissue but when she began to sob he just gave her the whole box.

 

Sighing, Kyungsoo stopped his haste to wrap all the books that were already bought. He left it to capable Sehun to handle and meandered around the store. Today was one of the final days before they would be shutting down for good and a clearance sale was previously announced so they could empty themselves of the abundance of books stuck on their shelves.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Chanyeol bumbled through the office door, carrying a disconnected bulky computer.

 

“Static,” Kyungsoo tried to describe the numbness.

 

His friend didn’t seem to understand but gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder anyway, bright grin making him feel livelier.

 

“How did it go with Kim Jongin, by the way?” Chanyeol asked, Kyungsoo trailing behind him until they all gathered at the cashier table, the flow of people ceasing. “Sorry if you didn’t want to see him but I figured it was a good idea for you guys to talk things out. Did you? Talk I mean?”

 

“Kind of,” Kyungsoo said, playing with the register. The beeping always amused him. “He said things, I said things, I made noises, and he laughed at them; wonderful, really.”

 

His finger paused mid-air when he caught three pairs of eyes looking at him in a funny way, “What?”

 

“I didn’t realize there was that much between you guys,” Sehun chuckled, giving Kyungsoo a coy look. “Get him, hyung.”

 

“Whoa, not those type of noises. Fix your brain,” he chastised, slapping his hand upside the young one’s head. “He was extremely nice and I didn’t like that. Made me feel guilty for all the hell I put him through.”

 

“You know you actually can’t be that menacing,” Yixing added, rolling over a cart with boxes stuffed with merchandise. “You’re at best level five koala, and that’s only after you steal their bamboo.”

 

Kyungsoo blinked, “I don’t get it.” Sehun and Chanyeol hummed in agreement. He resumed his fruitless foolery, the dings of the machine the only sounds besides papers being flipped. Plus the howls of Chanyeol hurting himself as he worked on the more technical parts in the back.

 

Sehun slid next to him, “Was he good?”

 

“Sehun.”

 

“I’m curious,” he screeched, switching to the other side. “On a scale from one to ten, how much would you bang?”

 

“Sehun,” Kyungsoo stretched the syllables in warning, tone shifting to a low growl.

 

“We are not going to be seeing each other every day anymore so I’m going to juice out all the details from you,” Sehun argued and Kyungsoo was left speechless, any rebuttal he could have prepared thrown to side at the truth. Only this once was he going to divulge himself into Sehun’s antics. “Rapid honesty session, starting now- the scale.”

 

“I barely know him so this is all based on aesthetics-“

 

“Still do it.”

 

“Solid eight.”

 

“Seriously?” Sehun rebuked. “He is serious eye candy.”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“He has nice hair.”

 

Kyungsoo shuffled through his thoughts, pleasing features striking him. “Nice eyes,” he muttered, remembering the caffeine he craved that one evening.

 

“Perfect height,” Sehun continued.

 

“Gorgeous smile,” subconsciously Kyungsoo joined in, in-between organizing the counter and daydreaming.

 

“That .”

 

The two nodded their heads in appreciation.

 

“Total babe,” Sehun sighed and nearly tipped over when Kyungsoo smacked his arm.

 

“Shush, let’s stop.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I’m uncomfortable,” Kyungsoo said, fanning his face which grew warm over their banter.

 

“Is it because I’m pointing out your physical attraction to Kim Jongin that you haven’t admitted to yourself yet?”

 

“No!” he defended, shuffling to rip off the posters placed on the front of the counter. “You should just- talk about, other things- like- important things- his personality or ambitions or something, I don’t know!” Kyungsoo balled up the used tape in his hands and aimed it straight at a cackling Sehun. “What’s so funny?”

 

“I never suspected you cared so much,” Sehun teased. “Last question: What is Kim Jongin to Do Kyungsoo, as of right now.”

 

His fingers picked at a section of tape that refused to detach from the wood while his mind churned. “A friend,” Kyungsoo stood up after the job was done and let the words flow sincerely. “He’s a friend.”

 

 

---

 

 

Peanut butter fudge. Kyungsoo savoured the cup of ice cream he bought, munching in between readings of the novel he brought and people watching. The glass window directly across from him opened to a bustling street and the bright chatters of fellow patrons a refreshing background.

 

His brother had given him Pride and Prejudice a long time ago, when he was in his teens and his brother his early twenties. Kyungsoo knew of the general plot, the whole meaning behind the title, but was uninterested in the dramatics. He also thought it would contain too much ignorance from the main characters. He found another copy when he was cleaning up a section of the store, buried underneath a pile of scientific novels. Since he was free for the rest of the afternoon, Kyungsoo stuffed it under his arm and went to fill in his need to read and sweet tooth.

 

He had barely finished chapter two, about a quarter of his way through his snack, when a tap jostled him out of his reading. His eyes widened in surprise when Jongin enthusiastically waved at him from outside the glass. Jongin made these sort of hand motions, Kyungsoo just furrowed his eyebrows in response. The other man already walked inside before he could figure them out.

 

Jongin sat himself down on the tall bar stool next to him, “Hello,” he chirped, twisting around like a child. “What are you reading?”

 

“Pride and Prejudice.”

 

“Ahh,” Jongin sounded bored. “I think I read it once after Jongdae made me watch the movie with him. All the pride and prejudice, I don’t think I ever really found out who was who. Was Darcy prideful? Was Elizabeth prejudiced? The other way around? I don’t know.”

 

Kyungsoo made a face and Jongin cleared his throat.

 

“Which part are you on?”

 

He lost his place, Kyungsoo noted unfortunately. But he preferred the satisfaction the ice cream gave him more than the words on the worn pages so there was little anguish. “Doesn’t really matter.”

 

“Why?” Jongin said, this time with genuine curiosity. He leaned closer, “Is your online romance making theirs seem dull?”

 

Kyungsoo held back a snort, “Yeah right. My online romance is busy doing a-” he quote unquote with his fingers. “project.”

 

Jongin copied his action, “A project?”

 

“Yep,” Kyungsoo smacked his lips together. “I have no idea what project could take up all his free time but,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t do anything about it.”

 

“I have a thought.”

 

“This can’t be good.”

 

“Ha ha,” Jongin kept a straight face and Kyungsoo sneered. “Maybe, this guy...wait for it...is married. Or getting married. An engagement!”

 

“No,” Kyungsoo gasped. “He couldn’t, he isn’t.”

 

“Are you sure?” Jongin taunted. “Have you ever asked?”

 

“No…”

 

Jongin raised an eyebrow, paired with an annoying tilt of his lips and Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. “I’ll ask,” he murmured, defeated.

 

“Good,” then Jongin reached over and took the cup of ice cream out of his hands, feeding himself a few spoonfuls.

 

“Hey, get your own!”

 

“I will,” he argued, returning the cup once seemingly satisfied. “I just wanted to know what flavour to get. That’s good, which one is that?”

 

“Go and guess,” Kyungsoo humorously said, overlooking the dramatic enlargement of Jongin’s eyes to make him feel bad and surrender. “Thief.”

 

“How mean.”

 

 

---

 

 

To: Lost Boy

From: Peter Pan

Topic: A Question

 

I never thought of this before but because of pestering from a friend I wanted to ask- are you married?

 

 

---

 

 

To: Peter Pan

From: Lost Boy

Topic: An Answer

 

Am I married? AM I MARRIED? What kind of question is that? Why are you asking me that? Wow, and I thought you knew me. Don’t tell me this friend is thinking the reason we haven’t met yet is because I’m married?

 

 

---

 

 

“He didn’t answer the question!” Jongin laughed, setting down his drink.

 

Kyungsoo crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, apologizing when he hit the person behind him. It was lunch time and the cafe they were in was busy with the initial herd of workers and general public enjoying their meal. He argued, wishing to get that obnoxiously proud smile off Jongin’s face. “He did!”

 

“Did not,” Jongin shook his head. “He evaded the question because he’s married.”

 

“He is not married,” Kyungsoo rested his weight on the table. “He answered the question in his own special way.”

 

“Now you’re just in denial.”

 

“I am not.”

 

Jongin gave him a pointed look.

 

“Well,” Kyungsoo groaned, mentally ticking off a point on Jongin’s side of the chart he imagined whenever they had these petty battles. “Sort of.”

 

“Here,” Jongin raised his glass. “Let’s say he’s complicated.”

 

“I will toast to that,” Kyungsoo agreed.

 

“So,” Jongin his lips, a habit Kyungsoo’s picked up on recently during outings like these. “What’s his nickname?”

 

“Oh,” Kyungsoo was startled to realize he never mentioned it before. “It was Prince but then he changed it to Lost Boy.”

 

“Really? Why?”

 

He’s also come to realize that Kim Jongin was suffused with the need to ask endless questions. Sighing, Kyungsoo explained. “He was going through some problems in his life and-” He thought for a second to tell Jongin that he was Peter Pan, further clarifying the reasons behind the switch but changed his mind. It made him blush thinking about it. “And yeah. He felt...lost.”

 

Jongin said, “Now that leaves us to figure out the meaning behind Prince.” facetiously, he his chin.

 

Kyungsoo chuckled, “He said it was because his nephew killed a spider once and named himself his knight in shining armor and he needed to protect his prince.”

 

“They must be close.”

 

“Just like you and Sanghyuk,” Kyungsoo smiled.

 

Jongin returned the gesture, “Just like me and Sanghyuk.”

 

 

---

 

 

“What if,” Jongin speculated after they finished their food and took a walk around the farmer’s market. They stopped in front of a vendor when Kyungsoo spotted something he wanted. “His name is Prince because he’s also one of those bratty kids who have servants to step on and feed him grapes.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Kyungsoo commented, laughing as he exchanged the bills in his hands for a bag of fresh blueberries. “Besides, he hates grapes.”

 

“What kind of a person hates grapes?”

 

Kyungsoo chuckled at the look of disbelief on Jongin’s face, “You love grapes?”

 

“Nope, hate them,” Jongin corrected. “Okay, here’s another. He ran away from a tropical island to escape the hands of his strict father who wanted to marry him off and is now seeking someone to bewed just to spite him.”

 

Kyungsoo paused, watching Jongin thank a woman for his basket of strawberries. “How about,” he decided to think of something. “it stands for something?”

 

Jongin whistled, “Oh that’s a good one, let me try.”

 

Noticing a long line of people at one food stand, Kyungsoo joined, despite not knowing what exactly they may be getting. Jongin blindly followed, still deep in thought.

 

Jongin snapped his fingers. “Pretty rich insolent nerd with corny ethics.”

 

“That is horrible,” Kyungsoo gasped, hitting Jongin on the chest.

 

“I tried okay. I don’t have a very extensive vocabulary.”

 

“I could tell,” Kyungsoo mocked. “Corny ethics?”

 

“Aren’t morals important?”

 

“True,” Kyungsoo nodded, mouth immediately watering when what was served came into view. “Oh I love crepes.”

 

“Never tried them,” Jongin admitted, earning himself a scandalized look from Kyungsoo. “Why do you look like I just insulted you?”

 

“Because you just did,” Kyungsoo grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him towards the stand, ordering a lemon crepe with icing sugar. “You’re going to thank me for this.”

 

“I didn’t know this dessert came with a side of rough housing,” Jongin grumbled as he flattened out the wrinkles on his shirt caused by the shorter’s insistence. Minutes later, Kyungsoo held two cone shaped cups in his hands, immensely flat pancakes inside that had sprinkles of white and yellow.

 

“For you,” Kyungsoo held out one which Jongin took. They walked to a nearby bench and started to eat the small haul they had gathered.

 

“Yummy,” Kyungsoo mumbled between big bites. “Do you like it?”

 

“It’s good,” Jongin admitted, already nearly halfway finished.

 

There was momentary silence before Jongin spoke, “How’s your work going?”

 

Kyungsoo leaned back to ponder, done was his crepe and both their napkins crumpled in his hands.  “I’m in the middle of a break right now,” he said, looking towards the park filled with running kids with parents fondly watching over them. “Still not sure what to do yet exactly, but I have time I can afford.”

 

Clearing his throat, Jongin said, “My dad, he-”

 

“Gave me his business card,” Kyungsoo nodded. “He came by to drop it off personally the day we closed. He seems nice.”

 

“He is,” Jongin smiled. “Are you interested?”

 

“Don’t know,” Kyungsoo reached into his bag of blueberries and offered a handful to Jongin, who happily took them. In return, Jongin grabbed a strawberry from his basket when he was done and produced it in front of Kyungsoo. When he reached to take it with his hand, Jongin lifted it higher so it was out of reach. Slightly confused, Kyungsoo furrowed his eyebrows. Then Jongin pushed it further and it prodded Kyungsoo’s lips until he got the message and opened his mouth.

 

“Go on.”

 

Kyungsoo wiped the juice that spilled down to his chin. “I might try writing a book. I haven’t gotten any ideas though.”

 

“Have you always wanted to write?”

 

“Nope,” Kyungsoo said, rubbing his fingers together, feeling a sticky coating. “But I think I could. It was actually Prince who got me started.”

 

“Prince of some foreign land that comes with a chain of mysteries?” Jongin cunningly interjected.

 

Kyungsoo rebutted with a smirk, “Prince of a thousand insights into my soul.”

 

Jongin let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, sure. He must have set the standard for every person you ever met.”

 

“Quite,” Kyungsoo said honestly. “But no exceptions, I can’t imagine myself with someone who doesn’t accept my hatred for butterflies.”

 

Sputtering, Jongin eyed Kyungsoo skeptively. “Butterflies? Of all things- smoking, drugs, married with four kids and demands you to be a mistress- butterflies?”

 

“They creep me out,” Kyungsoo said defensively. “I have my reasons.”

 

“I won’t bother to ask, especially since I think butterflies are a beautiful species,” Jongin tsked. “And, just putting it out there, I can’t be with someone who thinks it’s childish of me to be scared of spiders.” With that, he turned and gave Kyungsoo a sort of look the latter couldn't begin to describe. What he could say was that the gleam of the sun was attractive on his face.

 

“Well,” Kyungsoo turned away, biting his lip when a rush of heat made his cheeks turn pink. “I guess we could never be together then.”

 

“I guess so.” Jongin clapped his hands. “Well, it was nice bumping into you.”

 

“It was,” Kyungsoo replied honestly. Though he went through a brief stage of shock violently bumping into him as he turned a corner at the sidewalk, Jongin caught him and whisked him away for lunch. His general consensus was that it was an enjoyable afternoon. “I can’t believe I keep seeing you everywhere,” tone wonderous.

 

“Me neither.” Jongin smiled down at him after he stood up. “Hey, why don’t we bump into each other next Saturday? Say around noon?”

 

Nodding his head, Kyungsoo stood up and faced Jongin again.

 

“Over there?” Jongin pointed to a random restaurant.

 

They agreed, exchanging smiles as they crisscrossed and went opposite directions.

 

 

---

 

 

To: Peter Pan

From: Lost Boy

Topic: Last Time

 

How about meeting Saturday? There’s this park near 91st street, and a garden after you turn at this curve. Does four o’clock sound good? If so, Monggu and I will be waiting.

 

 

---

 

 

Kyungsoo closed his eyes and basked in the sun’s rays that peaked through the brilliant green leaves of the tree he rested under. He cracked open an eye to see what was taking Jongin so long and found him talking with a man across the street, just in front of the place where they ate lunch.

 

They were smiling and laughing about who knows what, shaking hands and patting each other's shoulders admirably. Jongin jogged over when their conversation seemed to have, “Sorry,” he panted.

 

“Don’t worry,” Kyungsoo said, lifting himself from the grass. Noticing his empty hands, Kyungsoo teased, “You forgot the dessert.”

 

“Oh shoot.” Jongin whipped his head around. “Sorry, I went back to get it and then I saw this guy, we worked together-”

 

“It’s fine, Jongin,” Kyungsoo smiled, starting to walk ahead. He turned around. “Hurry up, I have to head home and change!”

 

“For what?”

 

“I’m meeting Prince today.” Kyungsoo had to hold back his enthusiasm. Easier feat than expected but that was mainly due to the fact his bubbling nerves took control of everything. There was that coil of anxiety feeling like lead in his stomach. While he was looking forward to finally seeing the man who had captured so many parts of him, certain fears and doubts still took up residence in his logical thinking. It made it hard to feel entirely positive.

 

“Today?” Jongin exclaimed and Kyungsoo nodded, laughing at his expression.

 

“At four o’clock.” Kyungsoo checked the time and saw he had under two hours to arrive at their meeting place. “Near 91st street. I have no idea how to get there.”

 

“You’ll figure it out, smartie pants,” Jongin joked, dodging Kyungsoo’s miffed attack. “That must mean he lives around here, right?”

 

Taking in the idea, Kyungsoo nodded his head. “Maybe.”

 

“Maybe you’ve already seen him.”

 

“Could be.”

 

“You could have seen him everyday and not know it!”

 

“Possibly.”

 

“Maybe it’s him,” Jongin whispered, too close to Kyungsoo’s ear.

 

Kyungsoo jerked away from the breathing caressing his neck, shivers tickling his spine. He also distinguished that Jongin was referring to an old man in his scooter waiting at a crosswalk. Not entirely diminishing the thought, Kyungsoo nodded. “Perhaps.”

 

“He could be anybody,” Jongin hummed, skipping forward a few steps.

 

Kyungsoo rushed to catch up to Jongin’s long strides. “Anybody,” he agreed, and was too busy watching a nest of birds a couple paces ahead to see Jongin sneak a glance, his lips corking up slyly.

 

“What if,” Kyungsoo already started laughing when Jongin’s supposed favourite game undoubtedly came up. Jongin’s predictions and theories never failed to amuse him. “He’s the garbage man that comes every Wednesday and he fell in love with the way you organize your recyclables from your compost.”

 

“One,” Kyungsoo pointed out, poking Jongin on the chest. “garbage collection isn’t on Wednesdays and two,” he pinched the flesh on the younger’s arm. “your opinions are more entertaining than helpful.”

 

“Anything to make you laugh,” Jongin said, catching Kyungsoo’s eye and they both looked away before they could stare too long.

 

“You do a very good job of it,” Kyungsoo said, folding his hands together behind his back. Sighing, he admitted, “It’s good. You making me laugh I mean, since I’ve been so nervous all morning.”

 

Jongin looked at him in concern. “Why?”

 

“I’m a little scared. Like, is it going to be awkward?” Kyungsoo kicked a pebble on the ground, the tiny rock skirting up a few feet. “I wonder who he is, really.”

 

When they reached the same stone from earlier, Jongin sent it flying much farther. “He’s got good timing, I must say.”

 

Kyungsoo tilted his head, “How can you tell?”

 

“Because he’s waited until you’re absolutely convinced that there’s no other man you could possibly love.”

 

Kyungsoo let the words match the swirl of feelings in his chest. “Yeah,” he said, smiling at his shoes. “That’s right.”

 

“Sometime I wonder.”

 

Kyungsoo stopped when seeing a pair of feet block his path and looked up to see Jongin in his way.

 

“Well,” Jongin began, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocked side to side. “If I wasn’t the owner of this huge store and you didn’t run this charming little shop at the other end of the street, we would just be Kim Jongin and Do Kyungsoo.”

 

The way Jongin was staring at him, such intensity and sureness in his eyes. It made him restless, turning his head, this way and that, so he didn’t have a chance to directly experience the feelings they would induce if he met his gaze straight on.

 

“And if we were just that, no complications, I imagine we’d meet in a coffee shop or that bagel place you talk so much about. A chance encounter ending with me asking for your number and not even waiting twenty four hours before I’d call you, wanting to see you again.”

 

Instantly, the initial plan to avoid Jongin’s eyes vanished and Kyungsoo looked up at the words. There was that barely noticeable trace of desire in the break of his voice.

 

“Imagine there was no war between us, no insults, none of that regret. We'd meet as two people wanting to know more about each other. That book war might have been us having a war on what to make for dinner, the insults were stupid terms of endearment only we would understand and the only regret I might have had is that I forgot to kiss you good morning before we left for work.”

 

An overwhelming range of emotion surged in Kyungsoo’s veins, making him nearly choke on his voice in his attempt to say something.

 

“If only, right?” Jongin scuffed his shoe on the ground, Kyungsoo seeing frustration and wisps of dejection.

 

“Jongin.” Kyungsoo lifted a hand only to drop it, not knowing how anything he could do would alleviate the situation. He could see his apartment from where they stood and the need to part was rampant. Yet, he wanted to stay with Jongin. To plunge himself deeper into the recent comfort he found when around the man and divest in more pointless banter, useless violence and a whole lot of nothing that became something. The effect of his thoughts made his stomach churn. The words he used making him step back, just to distance himself further because these things that he began to feel- the adjectives, the nouns, the verbs he shared with Prince, his Lost Boy- they weren’t supposed to be associated with Kim Jongin. They were reserved for that one person. Unless…

 

No. It can’t be.

 

Finally, Kyungsoo breathed deeply, and said, “I have to go.”

 

“Let me just ask you this.” Jongin placed a steady hand on his shoulder and Kyungsoo visibly shook underneath his touch. “If you could forgive him for standing you up, do you think you could ever forgive me?”

 

There was so much hope in his voice, Kyungsoo felt like he could open his hand and catch the broken down shields of his vulnerability.

 

“This tiny little thing,” Jongin said, the coffee in his eyes swirling. “Putting you out of business?”

 

Kyungsoo’s heart stung as if Jongin’s self deprecating laugh slashed a paper cut against the surface.

 

“Oh,” Jongin stepped closer, completely eliminating any traces of fresh air that could fill Kyungsoo’s aching lungs. He loomed above him, hands with slightly cold fingers reaching to graze his cheek. “I wish you would.”

 

It took Kyungsoo’s breath away. His face felt like it was scorched with the amount of passion in Jongin’s gaze.

 

“I really have to go,” Kyungsoo murmured, voice weak.

 

Jongin let his touch linger, taking his time to disconnect their bodies. “You don’t want to be late.”

 

And Kyungsoo left without another look back, legs feeling shaky at first but then he was off in a sprint.

 

 

---

 

 

An hour and a half later, his fingers stopped shaking enough for Kyungsoo to comb his hair and decide on a shirt without too many wrinkles and pants that didn’t swallow him whole. He rushed out of his complex, pausing for just a second to smell the odour of pungent soil and let the elements of spring calm him down.

 

There was still that problem of him not knowing exactly where to meet but 91st street, park, curve and garden were clues spinning around in his head. Along with other distracting images and a single voice that kept repeating like a broken radio.

 

Kyungsoo patted his own cheeks, willing himself not to think of one man while he was about to meet with another.

 

The sounds of sprinklers and laughter led him to the opening of the park just at the side of the designated street. His footsteps walked along the edge just until he reached a curve and his heart soared. A myriad of colours welcomed him, a garden of flowers a wonderful spectacle to behold with some blooming while others were still just tiny little spuds waiting for their time to shine.

 

Kyungsoo stopped in front of a bunch of tulips, having a perfect view of the bend that opened at his right. All he could do was wait. White noise was in the background, symphony of the city being drowned out by the rapid beating of his heart.

 

Suddenly, his eye caught a flash of movement at his side. But, when he turned around, it was just two small kids running hand in hand towards the playground. Kyungsoo tried not to be disappointed, though his chest still caved and he conscientiously looked at his phone. It was two minutes after four.

 

“Monggu!”

 

His heart began to beat wildly, the voice of a man calling out to a small brown dog that stopped just after the bend, wagging his tail as he sat down and waited for his owner.

 

“Monggu,” Kyungsoo muttered, the name so familiar yet it was the first time he heard it out loud not simply his own reading.

 

“Monggu! There you are.”

 

Kyungsoo’s breathing stopped when Jongin appeared and leaned down to tickle his dog’s head. Monggu ran away afterwards, joining a bunch of other pups at a shaded section of grass. Jongin saw Kyungsoo’s still figure when he straightened and smiled, spreading out his arms, presenting himself.

 

“You-” Kyungsoo broke off, breathing still shallow. The faintest knowledge that Jongin knew all along lost as the cessation of his shock as the revelation took awhile. He let out a ridiculous laugh, “I-” choking on the syllable, tears escaped before he realized they even began to form.

 

Jongin stepped in front of him, inching closer to help wipe away the tears. “Don’t cry, Peter Pan.” More droplets seemed to want to follow the same path, so he settled for cradling the crying man’s head and held it tenderly in his hands, watching with absolute fondness in his eyes.

 

There was so much going on in Kyungsoo’s head, all his senses sending alarming rings to his head that buzzed with a sort of rush. It was overpowering, what he felt. He was filled with astounding-

 

“I was so worried.” Kyungsoo sniffled and stifled another surge of tears when Jongin gently ran a thumb over his cheek.

 

“Why?” and Kyungsoo’s heart throbbed. Jongin’s voice was so soft.

 

“Because I love you.”

 

Kyungsoo could see the change in Jongin, the way his shoulders relaxed and curved his body even closer.

 

“Prince. Lost Boy. The one I’ve been talking to for over two years through the stupid internet. The things I told you, I never told anyone else. I never felt so much for someone I really didn’t know very well. And then, Kim Jongin came into the picture.” Kyungsoo punctuated the sentence with powerless jabs at Jongin’s chest. By the second hit, Jongin caught his hand and soundlessly clasped them together. “I hated you. But I actually didn’t. You were nice even when I wasn’t. And I like you fair enough. But, then I started to like you more and more and I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to lose my connection to Prince. Lost Boy. I really didn’t. Now, it’s just…”

 

Kyungsoo laid a hand on the side of Jongin’s face, carding his fingers through silky strands.

 

“It’s just what?” Jongin whispered, leaning closer until their foreheads bumped together.

 

With a shuddering breath, Kyungsoo admitted, “I wanted it to be you,” he moved back infinitesimally to look at Jongin, the first time he’d freely wander his eyes without restraint. “I wanted it to be you so badly.”

 

“It’s me,” Jongin said, quietly lessening the distance between them. “You have me.”

 

Kyungsoo closed his eyes and when their lips met, he felt the scars on his heart fade away. Jongin wound an arm around his waist, pulling him closer until their chests touched and his aches subsided to follow the rhythm of Jongin’s heartbeat. The sensation covering his lips, the warmth and security being wrapped in his embrace. Kyungsoo pressed against Jongin, deepening the kiss and letting Jongin take away all the paper cuts.