SBB entry #2: Seaside (Part 1)

[conflate]

Title: Seaside
Pairing(s) (if any): jonghyun/onew
Rating: PG-13
Warnings (if any): n/a
Word count: 12,001



When Jonghyun Kim is five, his parents decide to retire from their high-paying city jobs and open up a chocolate shop. They tell their son this on a sunny May day, and his eyes go wide and his head fills up with excitement (particularly at the possibility of chocolate fountains, which had only existed in dreams before), and then they tell him that they're going to move away from all of his preschool friends and the big, pretty parks.

That's when Jonghyun Kim starts to cry.

His mother hugs him, tries to reassure him that their new home is prettier than the city and has cleaner air and more puppies to play with, but Jonghyun bawls through that night's dinner, sobs through the packing, cries in the backseat while they drive to their nice, new house on the bluff, and sniffs softly in their new living room as his father sets up the television.

That first summer, nothing gets him excited about their new homeÑthe frequent trips to the beach, sampling his mother's homemade chocolate, going to the ice cream shop, not even the promise that they'll buy him his own puppy. Perfect vision runs in Jonghyun's family, and so he catches, even at five, the stares from almost every local that passes their house. His parents hold an opening party for the boutique after a month, but Jonghyun can't help but notice disdain behind the smiles of all the strange new women. They're city people, he recalls hearing. They'll never fit in here. He knows when he's not wanted, so much so that he cries, again, the morning of his first day of Kindergarten. His mother drops him off at school in their foreign SUV, kissing his forehead, and reassures him that this will be way, way more fun than preschool.

Jonghyun pouts and says that nothing will ever be that fun. It doesn't matter whether or not it's true, but rather that he puts up a good fight.

He wins, sort of, and has to be prodded into his new classroom, where he watches his teacher gape at his mother's handbag before she leaves and knows exactly what's coming. He's shown where to put his backpack and then left alone, to play with crayons or puzzle pieces until the school day starts. Jonghyun elects to sit in a corner, look out a window, and pretend to be at home, hoping his blank face will make him seem like sceneryÑHe had friends, back home, why does he need them here anyway? It works fantastically well until someone taps him on the shoulder.

"You didn't go to preschool," the other boy says, cocking his head at Jonghyun. "Where did you come from?"

"I just moved here." he answers, frowning. "I'm Jonghyun,"

"Oh," he says, and the answer seems to interest him. "I'm Kibum. Do you want to be friends?"

His uniquely benevolent tone of voice is off-setting; Jonghyun eyes him warily. "Why?"

"Because everyone here is boring and stupid, and you look like someone I can train to not be boring and stupid."

Jonghyun glares. "I don't need training," he says, sticking his tongue out and folding his arms. "I'm way cooler than you could ever be."

"Really," says Kibum, raising an eyebrow. "How many times can you jump a rope without tripping?"

"Jumping rope is for girls," says Jonghyun, dignified. "I play baseball."

"Hmmm." He pauses to think. "Well, do your parents own a restaurant?"

"No, we own a chocolate shop," he says, victorious. "With fountains."

Kibum considers this, making circle patterns in the carpet. "You're right," he says, finally. "You don't need training."

And as strange and ridiculous as it is, this is how Kibum Kim becomes Jonghyun's best friend. You could say that's how he warms up to the town too, but Jonghyun never really does that, embracing the few things he likes and shutting out the rest. Kibum doesn't care for the rest of their class, and so the pair ignores them, Kibum making a point to distract Jonghyun's attention from the few insensitive stares. Over time, Jonghyun emulates him, blocking people out by talking over them, and even if the whole town recognizes them as not the same, he's got one person who finds him just right. They make other friends, too, but not until he's older, not until he and Kibum become almost interchangeable.

People always have good reasons for moving away in movies. In The Parent Trap, the mother and father divorced and didn't want to see each other, so they went to completely different countries, and Harry Potter moved in with the Dursleys, though it wasn't really his choice, because his parents were dead. Belle moved into the Beast's castle to save her father from imprisonment, and Princess Aurora went to the forest so she wouldn't die on her sixteenth birthday.

Jinki's not like that, though; he didn't move to save his sanity or his life or someone else's. He moved, or rather, was forced to move, because there was a better-paying job for his father in a different city. It's anticlimactic, maybe even unfair (there was nothing wrong with their home in the first place), but Jinki doesn't dare say anything to his parentsÑthey're walking around with the biggest smiles he's ever seen, and there's nothing wrong with the new town, after all, except that he doesn't know anyone. There's a big red lighthouse at the beach and the lake is beautiful and their garden is so much bigger than it used to be, but Jinki's terrible at making friends and he knows it. They only arrived a week ago and he's lost count of the number of times he's just wandered aimlessly around, yet he hasn't spoken to anyone and no one's spoken to him. His mother makes a habit of asking him if he's made a friend that day, and he's helpless to do anything but smile uneasily. No, not yet, he says, and if he worries her she doesn't let it show, reassuring him that he'll meet plenty of other students in due time.

It's okay, anyway; he understands. His head is too round, his personality isn't terribly engaging, and he's not the most tactful person around. Jinki, frankly, wouldn't be friends with himself. He'll make it, though, he has to make it, when the town is so pretty and his parents so excited. It's the perfect place for them, and so it'll be the perfect place for Jinki, friends or not.

Jonghyun meets Taemin purely by ridiculous accident; after all, someone with eyes like his shouldn't pick up the wrong binder from the pile of book bags and notebooks lying outside the middle school cafeteria. He does, however, and when he opens up the shiny red binder at the start of health class to see the name "Taemin" instead of his own, Jonghyun panics. "ThisÉisn't mine," he rasps, waving the binder in Kibum's face.

His best friend blinks at it, confused. "How the hell does someone like you pick up the wrong binder?" he says, sighing. "Well, is it anyone worth blackmailing?"

"I don't know, it just says Taemin," he taps his pen against his desk, frowning. "Whoever that is."

Kibum squints, thinking. "Do you think your stuff's still by the cafeteria?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Point taken," he says, defeated. "It'll turn up soon enough, it's not like they can you're your binder for anything. But does that kid have any paper in there, because I need a distraction from our daily lecture on the perils of drug use."

It's fifteen minutes before the end of his final class that Jonghyun realizes just what is inside his binder, and he spends the rest of the period fidgeting uncontrollably. Someone on campus, he realizes (and god he hopes it's not a teacher), has every note he's passed with Kibum, every paper plane, and every sarcastic sheet of notes he's taken since the beginning of seventh grade. This, naturally, isn't a good scenario, and when the final bell rings he bursts out of his desk and runs, hoping that some kind soul put it in the lost and found bin. He flinches when someone taps him on the shoulder, nearly causing him to trip in the middle of the hallway, which is almost as embarrassing, really, as the prospect of anyone seeing those notes.

"Are you Jonghyun?" the boy asks, scratching his neck and holding out a very familiar red binder.

He nods slowly. "Yeah."

"You're really weird," he says with a wince, handing him the book. He glances at Jonghyun's hand, which is currently holding on to the false binder. "Is that mine?"

"Are you Taemin?" The boy nods. "Oh, then, IÉguess it is."

"Ah, good," Jonghyun holds it out and Taemin grabs it, smiling. He says a simple "thank you" and shuffles away, and Jonghyun opens up his binder immediately. The notes, he notices with a cringe, have been touched, and that means they've likely been read.

It is to his great surprise, then, that the following day Taemin approaches their table, usually only occupied by Jonghyun and Kibum, and takes a seat next to the pair, grinning. "Who's this?" Kibum says, pointing accusingly at the newcomer. "Do you even go here?"

Jonghyun attempts to say something to account for his own shock, but chokes on his water bottle instead. Taemin blinks at him, and then smiles wider.

"I'm Taemin," he says, taking a sip of chocolate milk. "Is it okay for me to sit here?"

There are stars in Kibum's eyes. "Of course."

As they learn when he bats his eyes to get them out of detention, Taemin's well aware of his charms, and uses them, frequently, to get ahead. His smile gets them everything from extra cookies in the lunch line to shots of tequila in another town, and as childish as he looks, he never admits to having any guilt about it. "It's a talent," he says, shrugging at his newly acquired milkshake (free of charge). "Why waste it?"

Jonghyun and Kibum wrap arms around his shoulders, laughing. "I thinkÉI'm in love with you," Kibum says.

His parents say that he should, but Jinki doesn't remember Minho Choi. Supposedly, there are a handful of Christmases and Thanksgivings and even a birthday party during a past summer that he should be able to fully recall, but Jinki is shoved in a room with his apparent cousin the seventh day after they move and merely squints. Minho is tall and handsome and looks capable of walking ten feet without tripping; he is, in essence, everything Jinki is not.

"SoÉwe're related," he says, and he's fully aware that it's possibly the weakest conversation-starter in the history of mankindÑhe's not capable of anything better. Minho shifts his weight and sighs, but he did that when they first entered the room, so Jinki thinks it's just routine.

"Yes," the younger boy answers, a bit confused, "We're cousins."

"And that's why we moved here, instead of St. Joe's? Because of you guys?"

Minho nods as he picks up a book from the table behind him, flipping through the pages.

"Have youÉalways lived here?" he asks, flustered. "You never moved, did you?"

"Not once," he says, and smiles a bit; Jinki can't tell whether Minho's amused at Jinki's stupidity or at the novel.

"Oh," Jinki says, somewhat crestfallen. "Do you remember me?"

"I remember your name," says Minho, "Not much else."

Jinki isn't quite sure what to say next, and he has the feeling that they don't have much in common (as much as conversations cause him stress, he thinks reading Lord of the Rings would, frankly, be worse). "Do youÉdo you like it here?" he asks, quietly.

Minho looks up, as if to register that he's still not alone. "It's all right," he says, and the still silence that falls after he says that is too much to bear. Jinki frowns and edges out of the room, past the kitchen and through the living room and out the back door, until his feet find the sidewalk and he's on his way downtown.

When Jonghyun is fifteen, his parents give him a part-time job at the shopÑthey want their son to learn business, and they don't trust anyone but themselves to teach him right. When he's sixteen, they authorize him to operate the shop alone, manning the cash register and keeping the chocolate fountain running. He's got the store to himself now, standing behind the counter and smiling at whoever comes in, occasionally reaching down to text Kibum about their evening plans. The bell rings, suddenly, and he jumps, losing what little businesslike appearance he had. "Hi," he says, not so much as a courtesy but a ritual, as his phone drops to the floor.

He ignores it when his eyes move casually over the other boy, seeing just enough detail to know that he's a perfect stranger. The customer looks about his age, tousled brown hair, clothes carelessly tossed over a thin frame. He smiles sheepishly in acknowledgement at Jonghyun and then looks around, running fingers across the boxes of chocolate. Jonghyun tries not to stare, but the only noises in the place are the dripping of the fountain and the soft, rhythmic shuffle of the boy's red shoes against the hard floors. There's a squeak, suddenly, as he turns, jaw dropping a bit, at the fountain on display. "Do you sell these?" the boy asks, pointing.

"Just small ones," says Jonghyun, pursing his lips. "We rent the big ones out for events, and then we send out someone to help with them. They're a bit tricky."

"Oh," he scratches his neck. "Can we do that? By me, um, I mean my family. My parents are having a party next week, they'd like it, I thinkÑmy mother loves chocolate. I don't think they'll mind if I get just one."

"Yeah, of course," he says. "I'll just need you to do some paperwork."

"Okay." The boy shifts awkwardly on his feet. "I'm Jinki, um, by the way."

"Jonghyun," he says, fishing some papers out of the desk. "Where did you move here from?"

Jinki frowns. "Can you tell?"

"I guessed," he says. "It's been a long time since someone's moved here."

"Oh." The fact seems to make him slightly uncomfortable. Jonghyun hands him the papers and Jinki goes through them, tapping the pen against the desk. "I've only been here a week, but IÉI got a job. My shift doesn't startÉfor a while, so I just decided to look around. It's really beautiful here."

"Where?" he asks, and when Jinki blinks at him, he adds, "Your job, I mean."

He turns and looks out the windows, gesturing across the street and squinting. "Captain Nemo's. It's my first day, so I'm a bit nervous."

"Oh." For once, he isn't quite sure what to say. "ItÉdoes get kind of busy at night sometimes. Someone told me you get employee discounts on the ice cream, though, so it's probably worth it."

"I guess." Jinki finishes the paperwork and takes out his wallet, pressing some bills on the table. "Thank you, though. And who'll bring us the fountain, next week?"

Jonghyun smiles. "You're probably going to end up with me."

"I wouldn't mind that," he says, looking at the front of his shoes. "Uh, I should go to work." Jinki turns swiftly on his heel, eyes close to the ground all the way to the entrance.

"Good luck," Jonghyun says, just before the bell tolls and the door swings shut. He takes the lull to pick up his phone, squinting at the screen. Ice cream? he types, sending it and shoving the phone in his pocket. He starts drumming on the table, staring out the window, before his phone vibrates, and he picks it up.

I'm free at eight, Kibum says.

Kibum hasn't changed much since Jonghyun first met him; his hair is longer (it covers his right eye now) and browner, and his voice is deeper, but his body still looks like sticks tied together and he still roars with laughter whenever someone (usually Jonghyun) trips. He's got a job now, waiting tables at his parents' restaurant, but he still brags about his so-called cooking skills and then takes every opportunity to eat out. Jonghyun immediately spots him in a booth, sitting across from Taemin. He slides in next to his best friend, who's already ordered a ridiculously large banana split for them to share (sort of). Jonghyun looks up at the counter and remembers, suddenly, why he asked to go there in the first place; Jinki's not there, he judges, just by looking through the bar. He nods to Kibum, who looks up.

"I met the kid from the new family today."

Kibum nearly drops his spoon, but he maintains enough control to point it accusingly at him. "You did?" he asks. "Why didn't you tell us, say, right when you walked through the door?"

He looks at Taemin, who shrugs sympathetically. "I didn't think you'd care."

"Jonghyun, we live in the most boring town known to man," Kibum says, glaring. "We have a weeklong festival dedicated to blueberries which we use to cling to any sort of relevance. Someone moving here probably makes the front page of the newspaper."

"We don't have a newspaper," says Taemin, mouth full of chocolate.

"Exactly." Kibum looks pointedly at Jonghyun, expecting him to speak, and sighs when he doesn't. "So, what's the kid like?"

"They're having a party next week," Jonghyun says, stabbing a banana with a spoon. "He came in, looked around for a bit, gaped at the fountain, rented it out, and left. We talked for a while, too. His name's Jinki, and he'sÉI don't know. Strange, I guess. He said he works here, but I don't see him. I guess his shift is over."

"So you came here to stalk him," Kibum concludes, giggling. "I think living here has finally got to you."

"Shut up," he says, frowning. "I just understand his situation. I guess I feel a bit responsible to make sure he doesn'tÉkill himself."

"But you're stalking him," Kibum says, as if it's a crime worth public flogging.

Jonghyun sighs. "I can get you into his party."

He chokes, and ice cream splatters unglamorously across his side of the table. "What?"

"I'm in charge of his chocolate fountain, so I can pass the two of you off as assistants." When he finishes, Kibum is so clearly beside himself that Jonghyun can't help but laugh.

"When is it?" he asks, in a futile attempt to hide his excitement.

"MmÉsometime next week."

"Give me the date, Jonghyun."

He sighs. "Monday?"

"Perfect," Kibum's given up on containing himself, smirking. "You'll remember to get us, right?"

"I know what you'll do to me if I forget," he says, smiling, and Kibum is clearly satisfied.

Jinki doesn't answer the door at the Lee residence the day of the party; his parents do, and they let Jonghyun and his two "very nice friends" bring the fountain in while they ask hurried, excited questions about the area. Their son isn't there, they say, he won't be there until the very start, but then someone comes early and they run off to answer the door, lost in the act of being hosts.

Kibum and Taemin aren't much help, of course, but the latter, at least, isn't eating the fruits and marshmallows laid out for the guests. "When is he going to show up?" Kibum asks, dejectedly twirling a cherry by its stem. "I've been waiting to see this kid for days."

Jonghyun shrugs, not letting his own investment show. "He'll get here eventually, Kibum. It's his house." He reaches down to smack his best friend's hand away from a strawberry. "Those aren't for you, idiot."

"Fine," his hand falls, dejected, to his side. "Hey, where did Taemin go? He better not be charming old ladies again, that's just disgusting."

"From the way things look," Jonghyun says, finding Taemin in a far corner, "He's found a friend."

"Someone we know?" he asks, as Taemin returns to their side of the room, dragging a vastly taller boy behind him.

"I'm not sure."

"Hmmm," He taps the younger boy's shoulder once he's in range, pointing to the newcomer. "Hey, who'd you bring with you?"

Taemin smiles. "This is Minho Choi," he says, gesturing. "He's on the football team."

Kibum blinks back, trying to decipher what, exactly, this has to do with anything. "You know our Taeminnie?" he finally asks.

"Not really." Minho answers, mockingly. Jonghyun chokes with laughter.

"He's Jinki's cousin," Taemin hurriedly adds, glaring in Jonghyun's direction, and Kibum's eyes light up instantly.

"So you know him?"

"Sort of," Minho says. "We've only seen each otherÑ"

"Actually, we don't know each other at all."

Jinki approaches the table, smiling apologetically as he walks between Kibum and Taemin to grab a marshmallow. He places the fruit below the falling chocolate, clearly pleased when it becomes completely covered. "I, umÉhi. I'm Jinki."

Jonghyun and Kibum exchange looks, the latter mouthing you were right. "I'm Kibum," he says, "And the one talking to your weird tall cousin is Taemin. Can you hand me a strawberry, by the way? They're my favorite."

Jinki nods dumbly and passes him the fruit; Jonghyun winces as Kibum licks it before biting into the strawberry (it's one of those uncorrectable quirks that he has). "Do youÉlike it here?" he asks.

Jonghyun notices his best friend opening his mouth to say "no" and quickly jumps in. "It's all right," he says, neutrally, and then unwittingly adds, "It's much better than a concentration camp, anyway."

"Oh." Jinki laughs nervously, looking between the twoÑKibum is now glaring at Jonghyun for lacking tact, which Jonghyun finds both ironic and unfair. Behind them, in the conversation that Jonghyun had been trying to ignore, Taemin gestures wildly into a nearby lamp and would have knocked it over if not for Minho's reflexes; Jinki notices and jumps. "IÉI should go tell my parents I'm back."

He's gone before anyone can object, and Kibum folds his arms in supreme annoyance. "I did not wait the whole weekend for that," he says. "Good work, Rico Suave."

"Shut up, that clearly didn't go as planned," Jonghyun retorts, turning his attention back to the fountain.

"Since when has anyone needed a plan for small talk?" he sighs, gesturing at the table. "I might forget about it for a minute if you give me another strawberry, though."

"Bite me."

Kibum pouts. "Come on."

Jonghyun slumps to the ground and tries his hardest to blend in with the floor. It doesn't work.

Jinki has a trait that he doesn't bother telling people about; partly because they can probably see it for themselves, and partly because he's not proud of it in the slightest. He supposes it's a useful trait to have, but he's only ever seen it as something that further inhibits his ability to make friends.

Jinki, you see, has exceptionally good hearing.

Maybe, he thinks, someone more charismatic could put such a thing to good useÑthey could know everything about everyone and never make mistakes, but Jinki just isn't that person. It's a trait wasted on him, someone who can't think to hold his tongue when he's heard a great secret or not to add himself to a conversation he's been casually eavesdropping on from the other side of the room. As a child, he dreamt about becoming a superhero and saving kittens from trees, but he knows now that it's not a possibility. He's accepted, over the years, that the one thing that should set him apart from other people only brings him back.

The good thing about being able to see as well as Jonghyun does is that he can be watch someoneÑor watch for someoneÑand go completely unnoticed. He spends his shifts at the store staring across the street to see if Jinki's at work that day, looking merely as if he's scanning the road for customers. He'd be more thrilled about the technique if he was getting anything out of it, because he hasn't seen Jinki once, and it's starting to bother him (Does the kid ever go to work?). In a matter of days it goes from bothersome to frustrating, and during an afternoon he has off he leaves the comfort of his patio couch and iPod behind to walk to Captain Nemo's.

He doesn't see Jinki as he approaches, but he keeps going, hoping that there's just too big of a crowd for him to stick out. There's a line to order inside and he stands at the back of it, and as he gets closer he holds his breath for Jinki to appear, but soon enough he's pressed against the counter, a waitress glaring at him. "Can I help you?" she asks, her tone dismissive.

Jonghyun isn't hungry, really, but he buys something small to keep up appearances and walks out, figuring he'll give it to Jinki if he finds him (Or Kibum, in the likely event that he doesn't). He starts to walk in the direction of Jinki's house before he realizes just how far away it is from downtown, and instead he goes home, rushing inside and grabbing his car keys from the kitchen. He drives inland with the radio pulsing through his car, loud enough to drown out any thoughts of how incredibly insane he's acting.

No one answers the door at Jinki's house. Jonghyun slumps back into the driver's seat and sighs; the ice cream, at this point, has melted to the point of no return. Without the radio his thoughts run wild, too wild, and he's all too thankful when the phone rings.

"Hello?" he asks wearily, sitting up.

"Jonghyun," says Kibum, sounding a bit worried, "Can you do something for me?"

"Like what?"

"UmÉ" Kibum pauses, and Jonghyun feels like he's going to be asked to be Taemin's slave for a week. "Go and buy me some marshmallows? You know, the colored ones that taste like mints."

He slumps back into the seat, rolling his eyes. "Buy them yourself, you bum."

"But I'm working," he whines, sighing. "Everything will be closed by the time I get out of here." Jonghyun doesn't say anything, and he continues. "Please? I ran out of them last night."

"I can't believe you still eat those on a regular basis," he says. "You better pay me back."

Kibum laughs darkly. "Remember when that annoying girl tried to hit on you at that Italian restaurant and I convinced her that you and IÑ"

"Fine, just shut up," he says. "I'll get your marshmallows."

"Why thank you," he chirps. "I'll leave you to the task."

He hangs up and Jonghyun starts the engine, turning the radio back on with a flick of his wrist. It's not your business, anyway, he tells himself, what Jinki does.

Jinki isn't used to looking around grocery stores. It's his mother, after all, that does the shopping, and in his old town, he'd just memorized the location of one Very Important food item and ran straight to it every time he tagged along. He'd get lost finding her after that, but it wasn't too much of a problem. Today though, he's alone in the house with nothing to eat, and so he finds himself walking aimlessly through aisles, looking for the one thing he's strangely craving.

He's never been one for chocolate, and when he tells this to people they seem to mark it down as something else not quite right about Jinki Lee and move on. It's not that he hates chocolate, it's simply that he prefers sugary, pastel-colored desserts, like ice cream or lollipops. At least, he did, because he is now, rather unwittingly, attempting to spend his day making double chocolate brownies.

Jinki knows very well that the chocolate shop downtown sells them, but there's something about the prospect of seeing Jonghyun again that makes his palms sweat. He feels strangely pressured around him, as if his life is treading on some tightrope, and it's not a feeling he thinks he wants to explore. Even, apparently, if that means relying on his nonexistent cooking skills to be fed.

After weaving through the first few aisles, he finds what appears to be the sweets section and walks slowly through it, scanning the shelves for anything slightly resembling brownie mix. He senses victory when he spots the cake mixes, and in seconds he's face-to-face with exactly what he's looking for.

"Betty Crocker," he whispers, pulling the box down. "Very Chocolate Brownies. TakesÉtwenty minutes." He flips it over and reads the instructions. "Eggs, oil, andÉah." It looks simple enough for him to attempt, and so he clutches the box tighter in his hand, prepared to go search for the other ingredients. It's when he's on his heel, about to turn into the other aisle, that he hears it.

"Jinki?"

He turns around to face the very person he's been trying to avoid, and suddenly feels very guilty about the whole excursion. "UmÉhi," he says, indiscreetly putting the box behind his back.

Jonghyun points at it as he approaches, and Jinki considers seppuku. "Are you making brownies?" he asks. He, himself, is holding a bag of rainbow-colored marshmallows, and Jinki decides not to ask.

"Yeah," he says, shuffling his feet. "I'm pretty bored."

He blinks. "You know, if you don't want to waste money," he says, "I could just give you some of my mom's. For free, you know."

"Seriously?"

"I don't think she'll mind," he says, shrugging sheepishly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but they'll probably taste better too."

Jinki laughs nervously. "UmÉyeah. That'd be nice." He's surprised by how quickly he responds, and how quickly he agrees at that.

"Okay." Jonghyun has a rather nice smile. "Just let me check out these marshmallows and we can go. You drove here, right?"

"No, I, uhÉwalked." He says, as he puts the box back on the shelf.

"You walked?"

He shrugs. "Like I said, I was bored." He leaves out the fact that his license collects dust due to an irrational fear of accidents.

"Whatever, my car has room." Jonghyun looks down at the package in his hands and smiles crookedly, leading the way to the cashier. "Let's check out before anyone else sees me carrying these, okay?"

"They look good," Jinki says, hoping he sounds encouraging.

"Really?" he looks at the bag one more time before setting it on the conveyor belt. "I never liked desserts without chocolate in them. You can probably guess why."

Jinki nods. "Makes sense."

Jonghyun hands the girl a couple of bills, looking back at Jinki when she takes them. "And you?"

He blinks. "What about me?"

"What do you like?"

"Oh," Jinki looks at his toes. "I actually eat a lot of tofu."

"Tofu?"

"Yeah," he says, shrugging. "It's the only thing I can find in the grocery store."

Jonghyun smiles at him again, taking the bag of marshmallows from the cashier. "You're interesting, you know that?" he says. Jinki's so surprised at the statement that he can't do anything but smile back.

He'd thought his own house was beautiful, but it's nothing compared to, after a slight detour, what Jonghyun pulls up to. Their place is gorgeous, the front porch swallowed by the biggest hydrangeas Jinki's ever seen, the outside walls a relaxed, warm yellow. When he stands in the yard, he sees the lake in the distance, registering with envy that the house stands on the bluff, just left of the lighthouse and downtown.

"Are you coming?" Jonghyun, says, finally, when he's holding the front door open and Jinki is still looking out at the shimmering lake. His tone is amused rather than annoyed, and when Jinki takes his eyes from the water he notices one of those nice smiles coming at his lips.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

The inside of the house is as immaculate as the yard; orchids dotting every table. Jonghyun leads him to a small, cozy kitchen that overlooks the bluff, motioning for him to sit as he opens a vast pantry. "You know," he says, "You could have just come to the shop and gotten some brownies. We're right across from your job."

"My job?" Jinki asks, running hands through his hair. "I don't have a job."

Jonghyun turns around, eyes narrowed in confusion. "You said you did."

"I did?" he thinks about it, making patterns on the table surface. "Oh. I did. Right."

"You lied about having a job?" Jonghyun asks, incredulously, and just when Jinki thinks he's going to be kicked out his host starts to laugh, loudly. "Why?"

"I don't really remember," he says, shrugging.

He sets a plate of brownies down on the table, taking the seat next to Jinki and staring at him, as if he's some complicated logic problem that Jonghyun needs to figure out. "You are without a doubt the weirdest person I've ever met." He says it with a smile, and Jinki isn't quite sure how to respond.

"ÉThank you?"

"Well, I'd much rather be weird than boring," he says, "Wouldn't you?"

"I guess," he answers, and slowly picks up a brownie. "But weird people are shunned."

Jonghyun shakes his head. "I shun boring people."

"Oh." Jinki doesn't have an answer for that, and eats quietly instead. Jonghyun doesn't touch the plate himself; he pulls out his phone and checks it once, twice, three times, and then looks back at Jinki, who's halfway through the brownie and picking up speed.

"Do you have a job at all?" he asks (a shake of the head tells him no). "Then what do you do with your life?"

Jinki fidgets, hoping to avoid answering, but Jonghyun looks at him expectantly and he knows there's no way out of it. "IÉI have a lot of free time," he says. "But I don't reallyÉknow places here, so mostly I just wander aimlessly or stay home." He's not quite sure how he's held Jonghyun's attention up until this point, but he's sure he's lost it now.

"So, in essenceÉ" he starts, "You do nothing."

As much as he'd prefer not to (he hates disappointing), Jinki nods, slowly. There's a still silence before Jonghyun's lips curve into another one of those pretty, pretty smiles.

"Wanna change that?"

Either Jinki Lee is insanely afraid of him or insanely awkward, and Jonghyun would like to think that it's the latter. He's well aware of the fact that the other boy's uneasy around him, and really, a lot of people are, but he cares what Jinki thinks of him and that makes things different. His eyes flicker to the passenger's seat countless times, and he sighs if the newcomer doesn't look comfortable. He's never thought of himself as terribly intimidating, just a bit loud. But Jinki acts strangely submissive in his presence, and he's not the type who likes his friends bowing at his feet.

Thankfully, Kibum and Taemin agree that there's something inherently likable about Jinki, even after he trips on a flat sidewalk, and the two of them are eager to keep him around. Jonghyun quickly observes that Jinki's happiness can't be measured in smiles, seeing as he grins at the waitress after she stabs his toe with her heel, but deems their efforts successful when he relaxes his shoulders and leans back into his chair. "This is so nice," he says, awed. "How'd you get the table so quickly?"

"Kibum's dad owns the restaurant," says Taemin, which is true, but not the answer.

"The hostess hates me, but thinks Taemin is adorable," says Kibum, flatly.

Jinki raises an eyebrow at Taemin, who winks back. "You're joking, right?"

"He's exaggerating," Jonghyun says, sipping his Coke. "But Taemin is good at charming girls."

"Or just people," adds Kibum. "We're here with him, aren't we?"

"True, but then we get the free ice cream."

"Free ice cream?" asks Jinki, eyes wide and bright.

"Captain Nemo's is primarily run by girls," says Jonghyun. "Single girls."

"Oh," he says, eyeing Taemin. "HowÉcool."

Jinki looks at the younger boy with such admiration that Jonghyun almost feels jealous; he turns his attention to eating the table's supply of garlic bread instead, at least, until Kibum smacks his hand away. "Don't eat so much, I'm paying for your entrŽe and you'd better eat it."

Jonghyun picks up a spoon and hits the back of Kibum's hand with it, grabbing the bread basket when he flinches. He hears unfamiliar laughter when he does this, and wonders for a moment if it's Jinki. "You have no money to speak of, Kibum Kim," he retorts. "I'm paying and I'll eat as I please."

"Hmph," He turns to Jinki, sighing. "Isn't Jonghyun mean? I only try to look after his health and he abuses me."

Jinki shrugs. "He's pretty nice to me."

Kibum frowns, looking back at Jonghyun. "He's kind of scary, though, don't you think?"

"Well, I'm scared of everyone when I first meet them," Jinki says. "And, uh, usually forever. I'm not scared of any of you, though, I promise." He stops. "Unless you want me to be."

"As much fun as having fearful prisoners is, we prefer having friends," says Jonghyun, mockingly rolling his eyes. "You really are weird."

The boy's smile seems more genuine this time, his mouth outshining the bottom half of his face, his eyes shrinking into barely visible slits. Jonghyun exchanges a look with Kibum, and thinks that they might just have another friend.

Part 2