Summary: The new group enjoys a day off. Jae and Yunho have it out.

A.N.: This was a tough chapter to write. Originally, it was much longer (8k words!) with a LOT of stuff happening all at once, but I decided to break it into two parts. I don't know if this will answer your questions, or just raise more questions. Guess we'll see... ^^

As always, I ♥ your comments.

—)(—

“Your turn, hyung.”

Changmin’s fingers tap out a restless tattoo on the dining room table. He’s teaching Yoochun to play Go-Stop, and it’s not going well.

“Wait… Go over the hwatu again.” Yoochun stares in confusion at the cards in his hand.

Changmin deals out some cards on the table in front of the American. “It’s easy. Look. These are the gwang cards. That’s a tti…”

The maknae runs through the different suits, his expression impatient. He’s been trying to get a game going all day, but Yoochun’s the only one interested and he hasn’t played in years. Junsu sits on a nearby armchair, reading and listening to the card lesson. Every now and then, a faint sneer crosses his face when Yoochun asks an obvious question. He really doesn’t like him.

I should do something about it, I know. Junsu’s resentment spells trouble for the group. But a small part of me, the part that dislikes how much time Jae spends with Yoochun, makes me let it go for now.

I glance over at Jae. He’s huddled on one end of the couch in the living room, playing with his bangs and talking on the phone. I think he’s talking to Heechul, but he speaks so low I can’t catch much conversation. He seems troubled. He’s shaking his head, and at one point says sadly, “You know I can’t do that.”

Stop eavesdropping. I drop into a chair near Junsu’s and stare at the group schedule Manager Pak gave me last night, trying to make sense of the crowded grid. Every day on the calendar for the next few months has notes scribbled on it: rehearsals, fittings, interviews. So much to do. So much to be responsible for.

I’m uncomfortable being chosen as leader over Jae, but I know Ssem well enough not to argue. He doesn’t make decisions like this on a whim. If he thinks I’m best suited to lead, then he must have good reasons for it. And guiltily, in my secret thoughts, I agree with him. Jae’s no leader. He’s come a long way with his performance skills, but he’s still shy and insecure and not the kind of person to take charge. Even though he’s my senior, I think of him as an innocent dongsaeng.

I glance over at him again. He has the phone tucked between his chin and shoulder while he twirls a strand of dark hair around his finger. Nodding at whatever Heechul’s saying, he his lips, tongue flicking out to dab at his pink mouth. Heat spikes through me at the sight.

Okay, so my thoughts aren’t all brotherly. Or innocent.

I force myself to look away and focus on the grid of dates and events in front of me. Our recording date is coming up fast. And we have a showcase in September? That’s too soon. The more details I see, the faster my heart beats. Panic sets in. Six months sounds like a long time, but when I see it all laid out—how much we have to do, how much we have to master, before the date marked “DEBUT” in big, red letters—well, it’s impossible. There’s not enough time. There’s no way we’ll be ready. I have to do something.

Pulling out my cell phone, I dial Pak’s number.

“What is it, Yunho?” He’s brusque, as always.

“I was looking over the calendar you gave me and—”

“Oh, the PR training? Is that what you’re worried about? I know it’s short notice, but we can’t afford to waste a single day.”

PR training? What’s he talking about? I scan the schedule, frowning. Then I see it. Tomorrow. It’s scheduled for tomorrow. That means today is our only day off.

“No, of course we can’t waste time. It’s just…” I hesitate, not sure what to say. I can’t say that I don’t think we’ll be ready in time for our debut. Because what does that say about us? That I don’t have confidence in my members? That we’re not good enough? That I’m a bad leader?

“We’re exhausted.” I finish lamely.

“I know. You’ve been working hard.” His words are kind, but his voice is unsympathetic. “Rest up today and you’ll be fine. It’s just PR training.”

“Okay.” I agree, but I’m skeptical.

“Okay. See you tomorrow. Eight a.m. sharp.” He hangs up.

Crap. How am I going to break it to the others?

“Yes! My win!” Changmin leaps up from the table with a fist pump, grinning and jubilant. It’s strange to see the quiet boy so exuberant.

“Okay. So…what happens now?” asks Yoochun.

“You pay a penalty,” says Junsu, jumping into the conversation with glee. “What did you guys bet?”

Yoochun shrugs. He doesn’t seem upset by losing, a good-natured smile on his face.

“Strikes,” says Changmin. “We bet strikes.”

Yoochun looks puzzled.

“He gets to hit you,” Junsu explains, his sulky face happy for the first time that day.

Yoochun’s smile fades. “Hit me? Like, punch me?”

“No,” I interject firmly, before the mischief glinting in Junsu’s eye makes him go too far. “He flicks your forehead or slaps your arm. Nothing painful.”

Yoochun looks doubtful.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” says Changmin, cheerfully. “Here. I’ll settle for a wrist slap as penalty. Give me your arm.”

Yoochun looks from face to face and sees no way out, so he reluctantly holds out his arm. Changmin grabs his wrist and holds it steady. He blows on two fingers through an evil grin, then draws back and strikes Yoochun’s wrist with a hard smack.

“Ow! What the hell?” Yoochun jerks his arm away and clutches it to his chest, staring at Changmin like he’s a demon. I can see a red mark already forming where the blow landed.

Junsu looks impressed. He beams at Changmin. “Yah, that was good! You have to show me your technique.”

“Are you okay?” I ask the American, since nobody else is going to.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He grins at Changmin. “You’re stronger than you look. I’ll remember this when I win the next hand.”

His cheerful good sportsmanship earns my grudging respect. I know that strike hurt, but he’s not making a big deal out of it.

“Let’s all play the next round. It’s fun with more people.” Changmin starts gathering the cards with a hopeful expression, seeing his chance to get a real game going.

“I’ll play,” Junsu flashes a sweet smile, but I suspect he just wants a chance to whack Yoochun. “But we should get something to drink first. I want soju. Yunho, you in?”

“No, I need to sort out this schedule stuff.” I hesitate, looking over my shoulder at Jae in the living room. Should I tell them about tomorrow? Might as well, since they’re all here. “You probably shouldn’t drink liquor. We have a schedule tomorrow.”

Three sets of surprised, angry eyes glare at me.

“But tomorrow’s Sunday!”

“When are we supposed to rest?”

“No way. I have plans.”

I hold my hands up, defensive. “I don’t like it either, but we’ve got to go. If you saw how much we have to do between now and our debut, you’d want to go. Trust me.”

There’s some grumbling, and they exchange unhappy looks, but nobody argues with me.

“Now I really want some soju,” says Junsu, grouchy. “You think Heechul’s around? He’s the only one with a fake ID.”

“I have one,” says Yoochun.

“You do? Let me see!” Junsu’s voice squeaks with excitement.

“It’s in my bedroom.” Yoochun turns and heads down the hall to get it, Junsu following behind, bouncing in anticipation.

It’s just me and the maknae in the dining room. I watch him shuffle the red-bordered cards. “You’re not going to drink, are you?”

He shakes his head. “No. My parents would kill me if I started drinking. Not to mention what SM would do to me. Not worth it.”

He’s surprisingly pragmatic about it. I nod my approval. “What year are you, anyway?”

“I’m 88.”

So young. I wasn’t close to being ready for debut at his age—no matter what I thought at the time. I’ve come so far since then. This kid must have something special for Ssem to put him with us.

“How does it feel to be in a group so soon?”

He shrugs, fanning the cards on the table. “Good, I guess. It doesn’t seem real.”

“I know what you mean. It’ll seem real once we start doing live stages.”

He frowns. “It’s hard enough balancing practices with school. But night performances and day classes? It’ll kill me. I’m too young to die!” His tone is joking, but there’s real fear underneath it.

“It’ll work out. It won’t be easy, but SM won’t give you more than you can handle. It’s not in their best interest to kill one of their next great hallyu stars, right?”

His wide mouth tilts into a small smile. “I guess not.”

“And you know you can talk to me if you feel overwhelmed. I’m always here to help if you need me.” I clap him on the shoulder in reassurance.

“Got it, hyung.” He looks away awkwardly, like what I said was cheesy. Was it? I meant every word. At least he knows the offer is there.

Junsu races into the room waving a small plastic card. “Look at this!”

He shows me an American driver’s license with a blurry picture of Yoochun. I read the information out loud. “Michael K. Wells. 23 Chantilly Road, Fairf