“Jongin-ah, I cooked some dinner. It’s on the kitchen table. The rest of the members are out.”

Kyungsoo’s voice snuck up behind me as I flipped through channels on the TV, trying to find something to watch. I didn’t jump though, I was used to him sneaking up on me already. It’s been three years since we first met and he and I knew each other like the back of our hands. “Thanks, Kyung,” I said. We’d dropped the practice of honorifics because he didn’t look a day older than me and he hated people calling him hyung. “No problem. I’m going to go wash up,” he smiled, walking toward the bathroom.

I was walking toward Dance Studio 1, it was time for practice. I needed to step up my game a little more – my moves weren’t as sharp as they should have been. As I was going on my way, someone tugged on my sleeve. I turned to face him. He was shorter than me, fairer, and had eyes the size of the moon. What a cute little kid, I thought.

“Annyeong, my name is Kyungsoo. I’m new here. What’s your name?” his voice wasn’t as deep as Chanyeol’s, the other trainee, but it wasn’t the high pitched wail I’d expected. The kid looked about twelve.

“I’m Jongin. I’ve been here three years. How’d you get in?”

“Oh, I was casted. This place looks really cool, Jongin…. Hyung?”

“I was born in 94.”

“Ah, then you’re my dongsaeng! But please don’t call me hyung. I don’t like it.” So… Not a kid. Not a dongsaeng. He’s a hyung. Well, hyung or not, I’m late.

“…Alright, Kyungsoo. I’ve got practice to go to now. See you around.” I said, as I turned to leave.

“Wait!” I stopped in my tracks. Even though he asked me not to call him a hyung, a hyung he was and I couldn’t just ignore him. I turned around. Oh god, what more could this guy want?

“Yeah?” I asked, somewhat irritated and just wanting to get to practice already.

A large smile that seemed to emanate from his mouth right through to his eyes appeared on his face as he held up his fist. “I hope you do well, Jonginnie. Work hard! Hwaiting!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at him. I still remember all that enthusiasm. Mine had turned into determination about a year into training. I thanked him and ran off down to the dance studio.

The instructors punished me that day, for being late. They made me do dance moves they knew I hated. But… For once, I didn’t mind. I did a good thing today, I thought. I made a friend.

My mind focused back on the present, where that friend had cooked me dinner (as he has done for the past year we’ve all been living together) and was taking a shower, judging by the sounds of water pounding onto the floor. I switched off the television and went into the kitchen, where, true enough, dinner was waiting for me on the table. I looked into the bowl and lifted the cover off it. Surprise, surprise. Kyungsoo made my favourite again. Fried chicken.

“Jongin?” it was Kyungsoo again. I was flat on my back on the floor of dance studio 3, and practice had ended about an hour ago. But today I’d given it my absolute all, and I’d been hitting the gym more often to build muscle, so I was exhausted. I had my eyes closed and pretended to be asleep. Kyungsoo and I had been friends for around eight months now, and he seldom left me alone.

“Jongin?” I knew he was closer. Probably squatting next to the lifeless mass that was my body, eyes wide and eyebrows knitted in concern. I still didn’t respond. “Jongin…” he said again, prodding me this time. Still I gave no response: I was dead tired and could’ve slept through the night on this floor, I’d done it before.

Kyungsoo moved away from me. I’d passed out before in front of him, so he knew not to panic too badly. He started singing. A song by one of the other SM artists, I knew, but I couldn’t, at the moment, think whose. At the sound of his voice my muscles seemed to relax and exhaustion started to leave me. His range wasn’t yet of the phenomenal standards of people like Changmin sunbae, Yesung sunbae or Jonghyun hyung yet. But it was the soft and melodious kind that Kyuhyun sunbae and Onew hyung had. The kind that could extract weariness from your bones and lull you to sleep. Yeah, that kind.

His voice slowly faded and I realized he was leaving the room. I nodded off for a few minutes before someone gently shook me. I regained consciousness but refused to open my eyes. Sleep was precious to me. There was a new smell in the room though, a very familiar one. “Jonginnie…” Kyungsoo murmured as he shook me. I didn’t respond. “Aigo…. KIM JONGIN!” he yelled. I sat up with a start. The guy’s a singer; he’s got a set of lungs that could literally blow you away.

“Annyeong, Kyung,” I said, wiping sleep from my eyes. “Our Jongin has worked hard. I’m sure you haven’t had your dinner yet. Here,” he said, shoving a warm container of food at me. I took it and inhaled. Fried chicken. “Thanks, Kyung!” I said, eyes wide open by now. I grabbed a piece and offered the rest to him, and we sat on the studio floor eating in silence.

“This is really good,” I mumbled, through mouthfuls of chicken. “Thanks,” Kyungsoo said. “It’s my favourite, by the way,” I said. Kyungsoo smiled a smile that reminded me I was younger than him, I was his dongsaeng. “I know.”

I sat at the kitchen table and pulled a plate out to eat on. Kyungsoo would go crazy if he saw me eating without one. I’d get crumbs all over the place and then he’d whip out the handheld vacuum cleaner, vacuuming up everything until the very smell was gone, as well. Thank god I did, because just then the shower stopped running and the bathroom door opened. I heard him go into our bedroom to get dressed.

“How’s the food?” he asked, coming out in his dorky little f(x) shirt and striped pyjama bottoms. His hair was still in a wet heap on the top of his head, which I knew he’d fix before he went to bed. “It’s good,” I said, managing a half smile with my mouth full of chicken. He sat down across from me and grabbed a piece himself, munching happily with me. We finished our food and he snatched my plate from me, bringing it to the sink and scrubbing it meticulously. “I could’ve done that, you know,” I said, trying to sound irritated. “You never wash all the soap off and in the end the oil still sticks. Go take a bath, I can handle this.” he said. I got up and went to the bathroom. Oh, Kyungsoo-umma.

I couldn’t believe it. I was late to practice again. The bus driver dropped me off a little further off than he usually did, for some reason. My breathing was heavy as I ran off to the SM building, trying to race off to dance studio 3. Although my adrenaline was pumping and my lungs were working overtime, the time I’d spent in the gym paid off and I didn’t feel that tired at all. No, all I felt was irritated – what on earth was wrong with that bus driver today?

I burst into the SM building and took out my trainee ID card. I still had three minutes before the instructor hyung came down into dance studio 3. I hastily punched in my password and flung the door open with relief, when –

“SURPRISE! HAPPY 17^TH BIRTHDAY, JONGINNIE!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin, I thought I was alone. And there it was, a birthday cake that had Kyungsoo written all over it, with candles in the shape of the number 17 on it. A whole bunch of people were there, even people I didn’t think knew my name. Kris hyung, Yixing hyung, Luhan hyung, Minseok hyung, Jongdae hyung, Tao hyung, Junmyeon hyung, Sehunnie, Chanyeol, Kyungsoo and Baekhyun hyung. And – yes, all the SHINee hyungs were there as well. Each of them were holding balloons. They were all black, red and sky blue. My favourite colours. I didn’t need to ask to know who arranged that.

“Thank you so much!” I said, after blowing out the candles and having the birthday song sung to me. I thought nobody knew. Evidently, I was wrong. “Alright guys, time to get moving. Jongin’s got practice,” Kyungsoo said to the crowd. “No!” Sehunnie yelled. Kyungsoo turned to face him in astonishment. The male maknae of SM never disrespected his hyungs. “Why not?” Kyungsoo asked with concern.

“Because, hyung, you haven’t blown out your candles yet!” Sehun said. He pointed in Luhan’s direction. I’d noticed that Luhan had disappeared, but didn’t think much of it till now. He was holding another cake, with the number 18 on it. “Happy belated birthday, Kyungsoo!” everyone, except me, yelled.

As we were all busily munching on cake (the instructors decided to give everyone a day off today), Sehun sidled up to me. “Kyungsoo hyung must really care about you,” he remarked. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Well, for starters, he planned this whole thing for you. He even made Chanyeol and Baekhyun hyung go out and buy exactly 17 black, red and sky blue balloons. Which, by the way, is also the amount of people he invited,” Sehun said. I was speechless. Was it really not just a coincidence, but intentional?

I looked over at Kyungsoo, who was across the room talking to Luhan.

“By the way, I’m pretty sure you didn’t know because he never told anybody, but his birthday was two days ago. We wanted to take him out to dinner but he said he had an appointment. Turns out he spent the day trying to get the instructors to give all of us a day off for your birthday today.” Sehun said. Then he left.

I let the warm water pelt soft bullets on me. Showering is the time when I usually think about my life, and the things I’d managed to accomplish so far. Technique-wise, my dancing was superb. Never had I met with an instructor who detested the way I moved. The fans liked my dancing, too.

I thought a little more about the five years that led up to the 8^th of April, 2012. Our debut. It was hard for me when Taemin debuted. Suddenly he was a celebrity and I was a lonely trainee. I couldn’t meet up with him much because he had such a busy schedule and anyway, I was a trainee and meant to be kept secret. I was thankful that I had managed to make new friends with my now-band mates. They really were wonderful people, and the days leading up to that one Inkigayo stage… Well, let’s just say that if I didn’t have my other five members to support me, I couldn’t have handled it.

This was it. The moment I’d been waiting five whole years for. Other people had it easier – training for 4, 3, 2, or even just the 1 year. Other people had it worse – Junmyeon hyung had trained for 7. I had invested five years of my life into this, leading up to this, the 8^th of April 2012, just this one day. My heartbeat was mad, I couldn’t control it if I tried.

We’d all released teaser after teaser under SM’s orders and I was in a lot of them. I even had a lot of my own individual teasers. I didn’t know why SM was marketing me the most – I didn’t have the most stupendous voice, my skin was dark and my eyes weren’t quite so big nor were they small. But all the extra teasers they featured me in shoved me further into the spotlight – and the pressure was getting to me. What if I disappointed the little fans I’d managed to garner? What if I forgot my dance moves and the little lines of rap I had? What if –

“Jongin.” Kyungsoo’s voice, calm and deep, like that of a hyung’s, called my name as his hand landed on my shoulder. He gripped it. “Kyung, I – ”

“I know.” he stopped me. “Listen, we know you’ve worked hard. You’ve worked harder than most of us here. But you’ve got to stop thinking about what could go wrong. Think about all that’s gone right so far – you filmed an entire teaser in one take, all by yourself. None of the rest of us has ever done that. And we’re proud of you for it. We’re proud of you. I know you’re under a lot of pressure right now. And I want you to know that it’s okay for you to bend a little, just don’t break. We’re on in a minute. You can do this.” And he left.

I got out of the shower and grabbed a towel, messily drying myself off and wrapping it around my waist. I went into our bedroom where Kyungsoo was already sleeping and silently got dressed. I’d missed out on a lot during my five years’ training in SM. My friends had all told me about their first love, their first kisses, their first girlfriends. I missed out on all that. I don’t know how it feels to be in love.

I sat down on my bed and looked at Kyungsoo. He looked so peaceful, fast asleep and not a care in the world. I thought about that last sentence again as I watched him sleep. The way he snarled when he sang, the way he always edged close to me at events, the way he took care of us all. As I looked at him I found myself thinking about the way his hair fell into his eyes and the way he closed those eyes when he was really singing from the heart. His hair was in his eyes now. I reached out and pushed it out of the way as gently as I could. He shifted in his sleep, a corner of his lips lifting in a half smile.

What is love?

Is love the way I feel now, for him, instead of for a woman? Is love in the way he looks at me, which I know is different from the way he looks at other people? Is love the feeling that sometimes overcomes me when he smiles that special smile at me for appreciating his cooking? Is love that special note I hear in his voice that I never hear unless he’s singing me to sleep?

Yes, I’ve missed out on a lot. All my school friends have girlfriends and know what it is like to be in love. I am faced with a dilemma: in our society, in our culture, a man being in love with another man is unheard of. A son has a duty toward his parents to bring them grandchildren. I turn away from Kyungsoo, feeling somewhat ridiculous that I had even entertained the idea of my feelings for him as being anything more than platonic.

I hear him fidget on his bed again, thrashing a little as he always does when he’s having a nightmare. Sometimes he even talks and tells me to put away my clothes properly or to leave him alone. I kept quiet, not wanting to wake him. I heard a sound coming from him, not long after. But he wasn’t nagging at me, nor was he actually saying anything.

“I... Lost my… mind…” he sang softly in his sleep, a line from his predebut song with Baekhyun, What is Love.

My first thought? Love is my feelings for you, Kyungsoo.

I turned to face him. “I love you, Do Kyungsoo.” I said quietly, before I turned my back on him again and smiled to myself.

I went to sleep that night with a happy heart, one that was, for the first time, filled with love.