Attention: each "~♪♪♪~" sign is a link to the song that the character is performing.

I was quite surprised getting a text message on Saturday evening: ‘Sunday, 5 p.m., next to my tenement house. Don’t look like peasant. Taemin.’

For a few minutes I was just looking at my mobile blankly, too surprised to figure out how to react. Not to mention worryingly fast beating of my heart that has been acting so weird lately. The laconic message itself was intriguing, additionally provoking my confused brain to create such questions as ‘how this kid managed to get my phone number?’ or ‘is he even able to write a text message?’

‘What is this all about?’ I asked out loud. Firstly, I thought that Taemin wants to finally get down to work on our project. However, the fact that he mentioned my looks was quite disorientating.

‘I do not look like peasant…’ I justified myself, at the same time inspecting my old jeans and crumpled T-shirt dubiously.

’I won’t act like some fool just because this boy demands me to do so,’ I decided. However, a few seconds later, contradicting my own myself, I stood in front of my wardrobe.

‘No peasant, no peasant…’ I mumbled, as I was digging in a piles of clothes. Helpless, almost hopeless, I realized I don’t have any elegant outfits, because usually I didn’t need them, avoiding all kind of cultural events. In a final act of desperation I drew out of wardrobe a pair of not quite clean shorts.

Suddenly, I saw some kind of dark rag, rolled up in a corner. I reached out for it, with a deep surprise realizing that it’s a tuxedo.

‘Where did I get this from?’ – I scratched my head, confused. Eventually, I gave up on thinking about the cloth origins and smiled happily.

‘I don’t look like a peasant,’ I said with new confidence, rushing to find an iron.

~*~

Taemin was already waiting for me, with a walking stick in his hand, eyed fixed somewhere in the darkness of the evening. A street lamp was illuminating his hair, painting it with few ginger flares and, at the same time, hiding his face in shadows. Tonight his coat was much more elegant than the last time. I shook in a cold wind.

‘Minho?’ the boy asked, as he heard the sound of my steps.

‘Yeah, it’s me,’ I answered, grabbing his hand fast, not giving myself time to change my mind. ‘Can you, please, explain what is this farce?’

‘Why do you always have to say something stupid?’ he annoyingly snapped. ‘I came to conclusion that I have to take care of education of my ignorant partner. Otherwise, we will not be able to cooperate.’

‘Ignorant?’ I felt offended, but Taemin did not pay any attention to my comment.

‘That’s why I take you to the opera,’ he said with a proud tone of voice. Then he started to drag me through the parking. I raised my eyebrows, surprised.

‘Opera? And that is the reason you told me to look like a clown?’

‘A little bit of culture won’t hurt you,’ he snapped, as he suddenly stopped. ‘What are you wearing?’ His voice was full of doubt. I shivered, hearing this weird question which made me feel a bit uncomfortable.

‘Ekhm… I’ve got a tux…’ I answered quietly, not as confident as I wished.

‘Only?’ Taemin raised his eyebrows.

‘No, of course not only!’ The boy giggled at my annoyance.

‘Don’t you dare bring shame on me,’ he said warningly, as he got into his car.

Our travel to the philharmonic hall was completely silent. I kept on looking at the window stubbornly. I was way too conscious of Taemin’s presence. He was sitting right next to me and it was unbelievably distracting. Even when we got to the place and sat in an exclusive lodge, my situation didn’t change for the better. It was worse and worse. Instead of admiring the beauty of this distinguished place that in other circumstances I would probably never even get to, I preferred looking at the boy that was sitting next to me.

Taemin, in fact, arrayed himself on our evening meeting. He was wearing a pure white shirt and elegant waistcoat, decorated with golden buttons that kept on shining subtly in a dimmed light of the hall. The long hair was pinned up in the back of his head, forming a somehow cute ponytail. However, one lost strand of hair escaped from the ponytail and cascaded close by Taemin’s left ear. The rebellious strand was extremely irritating. I wanted to fix the boy’s hair, tuck it behind his ear so badly. I kept on clenching my fists, trying hard to restrain from doing something really stupid. Taemin, unconscious of my internal fight, was sitting in silence, his chin resting on his hand, his ears engrossed by the music. I envied him this peace painted all over his face. I was unable to concentrate, totally distracted by stupid things like white collar on the back of Taemin’s neck or his hand on the armrest, dangerously close to my own.

Briefly, it was the worst concert I’ve ever attended, even though I don’t even remember anything from the repertoire.

‘And how do you feel after experiencing a little bit of a real art?’ asked Taemin when the show was over, his face still painted with a bit absent expression.

‘Incredible,’ I said laconically, at the same time opening the door for Taemin. A cold wind bursted into the building, blowing away his hair. The sky was decorating the earth with delicate white petals. The first snow in this winter. My companion stood in the center of a square that was placed in front of the philharmonic hall building. He leaned back his head, letting the snowflakes to melt on his face.

I was observing him, fascinated, when he started to gyrate, greeting the winter with unhidden pleasure. When he finally stopped a bright smile was decorating his face.

‘Minho, Minho, do you like winter?’ he asked in the emptiness, losing the direction in which he should speak. I approached him, giving him my hand so that he could feel my presence.

‘Winter is very sad,’ I answered, trying to warm up his cold hand. ‘And colorless,’ I added quietly.

‘I think otherwise. For me, winter is full of colors,’ he said enthusiastically, but his speech was interrupted by a sneeze. The boy was shaking because of a low temperature.

‘You’ll catch a cold, silly,’ I mumbled, taking off my warm scarf and placing it on Taemin’s white neck. The boy snuggled his face in the soft fabric with gratefulness. I glanced at his cold as ice, shaking hands. ‘Why you don’t wear gloves?’

‘I don’t like to,’ he answered. ‘I prefer to touch everything with my fingertips and gloves are precluding me from it,’ he explained. Suddenly he made a scared expression. ‘Don’t you dare warming up my hands by breathing on them! It’s disgusting.’

It felt like he was reading my mind again. I abandoned my plan of warming up Taemin’s hands.

On our way back home I appreciated warmth and coziness of the luxurious car of my neighbor. Silent hum of engine and slight swing made me a bit sleepy. It wasn’t so long until my eyelids became heavy. Flashing lights of the outside world started to slowly melt into one huge swirl