"But I'm still numb," I sang out loud, my voice breaking through the soft music like a sudden crack in still water.
The beat hit harder—deep and relentless—yet still wove seamlessly with the soft, gentle melody.
"Ohhhhhhh—hoyaaa," Jiwoo's voice rose in the background, echoing like a haunting reply.
We moved together in perfect sync, every step sharpened by the rhythm.
Our faces remained distraught, drained of all emotion, as if our expressions had been hollowed out by the song itself.
We brushed our hair back, rolled our heads like we were fighting against invisible weight, our bodies stretching and bending with each count.
The body rolls weren't seductive—they were raw, painful, perfectly tied to the pounding beat, making the moment unforgettable.
And then—stillness.
We ended with our heads tilted slightly to the right, standing tall, statues frozen in silence.
For a heartbeat, the room was silent.
Then—applause. At first hesitant, then swelling like thunder, rolling across the walls until it became a roar.
The CEO and executives were on their feet. Managers, staff—all the highest ranks of the company—were clapping, their faces filled with something I hadn't seen before: not just pride, not just joy, but relief. The kind that comes when years of disappointment finally give way to hope.
The CEO's hands clapped the loudest. His voice cut through the room, rich and warm.
"That…" he said, pausing as though the words had to catch up to him, "was extraordinary."
His smile spread wide, but it wasn't the smile of a calculating businessman—it was the smile of a man watching a dream he thought was gone be reborn before his eyes.
"Unbelievable!" one executive breathed. "This group… this group will be the one."
"They're not just good," another said, eyes shining as if dollar signs danced inside them. "They're the future of this company."
"We finally did it," a manager whispered, almost to himself. "After all the failures… we finally have a team that can break through."
"They're flawless," another added, shaking his head in disbelief. "The synchronization, the emotion—it's beyond anything I've seen from rookies."
"Taeyang's production!" an executive exclaimed. "I knew the kid had talent, but this? This is artistry. This is industry-shaking."
"It doesn't even sound like K-pop," someone else agreed. "It sounds global—like something you'd play driving through the city at night, or alone in the dark, or at a club. It's universal."
"I'll admit it—I doubted the song at first," an older executive confessed, leaning forward. "But this… this isn't just good. This is the kind of track people remember."
"Kai is phenomenal," Executive Seo-in declared, her lips curling into a sly, cocky smile. "The stage presence he carries—it's magnetic."
"He's not just good," another chimed in. "He's the kind of performer people can't look away from. How did we even get him?"
"You can thank me for that," Seo-in replied smugly, crossing her arms. Laughter rippled through the table, but it was the laughter of people who knew they'd just secured their future.
"This group will lift us out of the ashes," one executive said, nodding firmly. "Mark my words—they're going to define the next era."
"They don't even look winded," another pointed out, almost incredulous.
"Jiwoo and Diego's vocals—powerful and controlled."
"Tae-yang and Seung-hyun," another added, "they sound so perfect it's like they've been autotuned—but it's all raw talent."
Compliments poured out, cascading one after another as we bowed. My chest swelled. Of course it was good. We bled for this moment.
"And we saved so much money by having Taeyang produce it himself," one manager reminded, still grinning.
The CEO's voice boomed over them. "Not just saving money. Tae-yang will become the sound of this group. He'll produce, he'll write—and the world will know his name."
Excitement rippled. Heads nodded. Pens scribbled. Plans began forming before our eyes.
"They're ready," the CEO declared, his tone sharp with finality. "No more hesitation. Let's move forward with their debut immediately."
The executive with dollar signs in his eyes nearly bounced in his seat. "The sooner the better. Every day we wait, we waste potential!"
"I agree!" another said firmly.
Murmurs surged through the room, electric with urgency.
The CEO raised a hand, silencing them. His smile returned, but now it carried weight—command. "Tomorrow we begin. Rest well tonight. After this, you won't know what rest is. Prepare yourselves for two hours of sleep on average. This is the life you've chosen."
A heavy silence, then a unified exhale from the room.
He clapped his hands once, sharp. "Music video shoot starts tomorrow morning. No delays."
Groans and sighs echoed—but underneath them was fire.
The CEO laughed, standing tall. "Alright, everyone! Let's go make history!"
Practice wrapped, we all dragged our tired bodies out of the studio—sweat clinging, adrenaline still buzzing. But as soon as the door shut behind them, exhaustion gave way to excitement.
"Hahah!" Diego laughed, bouncing on his heels. "Let's go!"
Jiwoo jumped, shouting, "Siii!" like Ronaldo after scoring a goal, his voice echoing through the hallway.
Minho grinned so wide his cheeks hurt. "We're starting the music video tomorrow!"
The energy was electric—like sparks bouncing between them, unable to settle.
"Aren't you guys excited?" Jiwoo asked, glancing at Seung-hyun and Taeyang—both quiet, but clearly moved.
"I'm happy," Seung-hyun finally said, his tone steady but his eyes gleaming. "Just thinking about how to prepare well tomorrow."
Taeyang gave a small nod. "The shoot doesn't start until late afternoon, so make sure you get at least twelve hours of sleep."
The boys laughed, but all of them knew it was his way of reminding them that discipline mattered just as much as excitement.
Still, Jiwoo couldn't help but blurt, "Did you see their faces though? The executives, the CEO—even the managers! I've never seen eyes like that before. It's like they finally… believe in us."
Diego slowed his steps, nodding. "Yeah. It's different this time. Like we're the first group they really think will make it. I don't wanna waste that chance."
Minho clenched his fists with determination. "We'll work harder than anyone else. If this is our shot, I swear we're not gonna let it slip."
Seung-hyun's lips pressed into a rare smile. "For once, I felt like all the failure around this place wasn't ours to carry anymore. That hope… I want to keep it alive."
The words hung in the air, heavier than any practice session or lecture. For the first time, the four of them looked at one another and saw not just teammates, but brothers bound by something bigger—something worth fighting for.
Taeyang and I, walking a little behind, exchanged a glance.
Both of us had come from bigger companies—places where success wasn't a dream but a system. We knew what it looked like when a group was truly destined for the top. We also knew the other side: how quickly executives could discard a group if they fell below expectations.
And me? I sighed as I adjusted my bag, turning toward the metro. Seoul was a long ride from here. Every night it drained me, and the idea of doing it again tonight made my shoulders slump. But looking back one last time at their smiling faces, I couldn't bring myself to complain.
For them, the night had been a dream finally beginning. For me, it was just another long ride home.
"Kai-hyung, where are you going?" Minho asked.
I yawned, stretching. "Metro's over there."
"Where do you live?" Jiwoo tilted his head.
"In Seoul."
Their brows shot up in unison.
"That's… really far from here."
I shrugged, giving a small smile. "Yeah. Long trip. I'll see you guys tomorrow."
"Get home safe, hyung," Diego said, punching my arm lightly.
"Don't fall asleep on the train," Jiwoo teased.
Their voices trailed off as they disappeared down their streets, still laughing, still brimming with hope.
And me?
I shoved my hands into my pockets, dreading the long ride back to Seoul. The neon lights of the city waited for me, cold and restless. But somehow, tonight, the weight on my shoulders didn't feel so heavy.
I headed toward the station, the cool night air wrapping around me. Waiting on the empty platform, I sighed.
I really should move closer, but the thought of packing again… way too much work.
"Ay, hyung!"
I turned at the familiar voice. A teenage boy with dark hair and porcelain skin jogged over, smiling so wide it nearly split his face.
"Diego?" I blinked. "What are you doing here?"
Before I could react, he threw his arms around me in a bear hug so strong I stumbled back a step.
"Diego—what the heck?" I laughed, steadying us both. "What are you doing here?"
He released me with a grin. "I decided to wait with you until your metro came."
A smile tugged at my lips despite myself. I slung an arm around his shoulder. "Aww, aren't you a cute little bastard." I reached up and pinched his cheek.
We stood there in silence for a moment, but it wasn't awkward—it was comfortable.
"You know," Diego said after a beat, "the company has a dorm. It's old and run-down, but better than commuting every night."
I yawned. "I'd rather sleep in my house than some ancient dorm. Besides, you guys aren't even staying there."
"True, true. The dorms are lowkey getto," Diego said in English.
I raised a brow and replied in English, "You can speak English?"
Diego blinked. "Wait—you don't even have an accent."
"Of course not. I'm American."
"Yeah, but even mixed kids raised over here usually have an accent."
"I lived in the States for twelve years," I said casually.
"Ohhh. That explains it."
I tilted my head. "But how'd you learn? Your English is clean too—no accent."
Diego smirked proudly. "I lived in the U.S. for a few years. And when I moved here, my parents made me read English books out loud every day so I wouldn't forget."
I chuckled. "Smart."
"This is nice," Diego said softly, wrapping an arm around my waist. "None of the other members can really speak it. Do you know any other languages?"
"I speak Japanese. And… a tiny bit of Spanish."
Diego gasped. "You speak Spanish?!"
I shook my head quickly. "Nah. More like—I know a few words."
"It's fine, I'll teach you," he said.
My eyes widened. "Wait—you know Spanish?!"
Diego grinned. "I'm half Mexican."
My jaw dropped. I studied him properly this time—his wavy hair I always thought was styled, his sharp brows, high nose bridge. His features leaned Korean, but there was something subtly different too. His skin was milky, fairer than I expected. Suddenly it clicked.
"No way," I muttered. "That's wild."
Diego chuckled.
"I really like Mexican food," I blurted out randomly.
Diego's eyes lit up. "Right?! There's a reason it's ranked one of the best cuisines in the world."
I nodded eagerly. "Back in the States, I had real Mexican tacos—none of that Americanized stuff. Gosh, it was so good."
"Mexican food is undefeated," Diego agreed proudly. He leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Say, why don't you just spend the night at my place?"
I blinked. "Your family's okay with that?"
"Of course! And guess what—" he patted my back, lowering his voice dramatically— "my mom's making Mexican food tonight."
I pulled out my phone and texted my mom:
I'll be spending the night with one of my members.
Then I turned back to Diego, grinning like a kid. "Let's get some Mexican food, baby!"
"Yeeaah!" Diego whooped, and we clasped hands, shaking them so hard it felt like we were hyping ourselves up before a big game.
–-
We arrived at Diego's apartment.
In Spanish: "¡Mom, I brought my new member here!" he called out.
The smell of something warm and savory instantly wrapped around me. In the kitchen, a petite woman with long dark hair was drying her hands on a towel. Her skin was fair and soft like Diego's, and her expression was gentle, though her eyes widened a little when she saw me.
"Hello," she greeted shyly in Korean, her voice soft and kind.
In Spanish, Diego explained quickly, "He can speak Spanish and English."
Her eyes lit with surprise. "Oh really?"
In Spanish, I nodded sheepishly. "A little."
Diego grinned. "I invited him because he said he missed Mexican food."
Her smile widened warmly, and in Spanish she said, "Oh, then you came to the right place. Please, make yourself comfortable."
Before I could even respond, Diego tugged at my arm. "I'm taking him to my room!" he shouted back in Spanish.
We walked down a narrow hallway until he pushed open his door.
In English, he announced proudly, "This is my room!" before flopping onto his bed like a starfish.
One wall was covered with trophies and medals, glinting faintly under the ceiling light. His desk, however, was chaos—snacks, empty wrappers, and energy drinks scattered across the surface. To my shock, a mini fridge hummed quietly in the corner.
I crouched down and opened it. "Dude, no way. You actually have a fridge?" I pulled out a Gatorade like it was treasure. Rows of sodas, milk cartons, and bottled water lined the shelves.
Diego chuckled. "I worked for my dad over the summer and saved up enough money to buy one."
I raised an eyebrow. "You worked just to buy a fridge?!"
He leaned back on his elbows, smirking. "Nah. I just happened to see one in the store and thought, why not? Life's short."
I shook my head, laughing. "You're insane. But honestly… I kind of want one too."
"You should! It's the best thing ever. Midnight snacks, cold drinks, it's all right there."
I glanced at his desk, picking up a half-empty bag of chips. "And this snack stash? Diego, there's no way you're a good student. Not a single book or notebook in sight."
His desk looked less like a study space and more like a 7-Eleven shelf.
"AY!" Diego shot up indignantly, his accent slipping through. "I'm a trainee, you can't expect me to do both!"
I snorted. "Fair enough. I wasn't a good student either. Honestly, I almost didn't graduate."
That set him off. He burst into laughter, rolling onto his bed until his face turned red. His laugh was so contagious, I couldn't help but join in.
"You're such a stupid idiot," he managed between wheezes, tears gathering in his eyes.
"Look who's talking!" I shot back, laughing harder.
When we finally calmed down, the room still buzzing with leftover energy, I stretched out on the floor, hands behind my head.
"So how's school, really?" I asked, staring at the ceiling.
Diego exhaled. "I'm barely there. Always feel left behind."
The front door slammed.
We both froze for a moment before the muffled clatter of pans came from the kitchen again. Probably just his mom cooking more.
I nodded slowly, picturing his life—constantly pulled between training and classes.
"Do you at least get girls?" I asked with a sly side-eye.
Diego mirrored me with a side-eye of his own.
We both cracked up.
"I really like you, hyung," Diego said once he settled down. "I mean, I get some girls, but there's this one popular dude who gets way more attention than me and Jiwoo."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's right, you and Jiwoo go to the same school."
"Yeah," he said, nodding. "I always stick with him. Our company tried to recruit the popular guy, but he rejected it. Word is, he signed with a big agency to become an actor."
"Ahhh, so he's the IT boy in your school." I smirked knowingly. "Still, I feel like you'd pull girls too."
"Hey guys!" Diego's door slammed opened, revealing a familiar face.
Diego and I flinched. We both sat upright
"Gosh that scared me," I muttered, grabbing my heart.
"What are you doing here? I didn't invite you," Diego said, equally caught off guard.
"I checked your locations and saw Kai-hyung was here, so I invited myself. Can't let you guys have fun without me," Jiwoo grinned, flashing a peace sign as he dropped onto Diego's desk chair. He cleared his throat. "So, I heard we were talking about girls, I know enough English to know that."
Jiwoo and I clapped hands.
There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.
I nodded. "I was asking Diego if he's had a girlfriend."
Jiwoo smirked. "Ooo, that's a good question! Diego's got a great answer for that one. Go on—tell it before I do."
Diego sighed. "I mean, I did date someone… but I didn't even get to kiss her. I really liked her, though."
I perked up, clearly hooked. "What happened?"
Diego exhaled sharply, switching into Spanish for a second, like it was easier to say. "Fue una pesadilla." It was a nightmare. Then back in Korean:
"She wasn't just any girl—she was one of the girls. You know the ones everyone worships in school? There were three of them. One was sweet and untouchable, one was the athletic bombshell, and then there was her. My ex. The idol-type girl. Perfect face, perfect smile, everyone's crush."
Jiwoo grinned like he was telling me a juicy secret. "Everyone thought Diego was living the dream. The trainee with the prettiest girl in school? It was like a fairytale couple."
Diego gave a humorless laugh. "Yeah, a fairytale that turned into a horror story. At first, it was amazing. She'd wait for me after practice, we'd walk home together, holding hands. People stared, whispered. For once, I wasn't just 'the halfie kid who was good at dancing.' I was her boyfriend."
He paused, jaw tightening. "But after a month, I started noticing… changes. She canceled plans. She texted slower. She laughed harder at other people's jokes than at mine. And worst of all? She started hanging around him."
"The IT boy," Jiwoo supplied with a smirk. "The golden boy of our school. The one every guy wanted to be and every girl wanted. He was dating the athletic girl, but he still had time to charm every other girl in the room. And Diego's ex? She was no exception."
My stomach twisted. "Wait—you mean…"
"Yeah," Diego said, his tone darkening. "I asked her about it once. She swore they were just friends. Said I was being paranoid. Her friends backed her up, too—acted like I was some jealous kid who couldn't handle dating a popular girl. And stupid me? I believed them."
Jiwoo leaned forward suddenly, his eyes sharp. "That's where I come in. One night, I was heading home after practice, dead tired. I cut through an alley, and boom—there they were. Making out like some cheap drama scene. His hand on her waist, her giggling like Diego didn't even exist. At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But then I got closer—and nope. It was them. Clear as day."
My eyes widened. "Holy—"
"And here's the kicker," Jiwoo said, grinning wickedly. "I accidentally caught them in a photo while texting my mom. Pure luck. So now I had proof."
I turned to Diego, who sat there with his fists clenched in his lap, his voice dropping low. "When Jiwoo showed me the picture, I swear… it felt like the ground disappeared under me. For weeks I'd been doubting myself, thinking maybe I was crazy, maybe I was insecure. But no. She really was stabbing me in the back. With the one guy who had everything I didn't."
I sat up straighter, completely locked in. "So what did you do?"
Diego's smile turned bitter. "I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I just cut her off completely. Blocked her, deleted every message, every picture. The hardest part? She didn't even fight it. Didn't chase after me. Like I was nothing."
Jiwoo's playful tone vanished, his words turning sharp. "And that's not even the worst part. Two weeks later, the IT boy dumped his girlfriend—the athletic girl—and showed up to school with Diego's ex on his arm. Laughing. Smiling. Like it was the most normal thing in the world."
My jaw dropped. "No way…"
"Oh, way," Jiwoo said, shaking his head. "The whole school exploded. His ex lost her mind because out of every girl, he chose her rival. And Diego? He had to walk those halls like a ghost while everyone whispered behind his back."
Diego's voice softened, almost breaking. "It was humiliating. Betrayal on top of betrayal. Friends I thought I could trust? They knew. They hung out with them. Pretended nothing was wrong. I realized then—I wasn't just losing a girlfriend. I was losing an entire part of my life. So I quit showing up to school. I threw myself into training instead. That's when Jiwoo and I really became close."
Silence settled heavy in the room. Even Jiwoo's grin faded, replaced by something that almost looked like respect.
"Damn…" I finally whispered. "That's like something out of a drama."
Diego gave a hollow laugh. "Yeah, well. Real life can be worse than drama. At least dramas end with a happy twist. Me? I just learned the hard way who I could trust—and who I couldn't."
At that moment, Diego's mom called from the kitchen, her cheerful voice slicing through the mood: "¡Niños! Vengan a comer!" kids, come to eat.
That broke the tension.
I shot to my feet instantly, rubbing my hands together. "Finally! Food!"
Jiwoo groaned, shaking his head. "Figures. We bare Diego's soul, and all you care about is food."
Diego cracked a crooked smile as he pushed himself off the bed. "Unlike women, food never lies. It always makes you smile." His tone was light, but then it dipped, sharp at the edges. "I'd rather eat than think about her anyway. I'm good now… but every time I remember, it makes my blood boil."
As soon as we stepped into the dining room, I spotted a middle-aged man and a young woman removing her bag, near the door. I knew right away—it was Diego's dad and sister.
"Oh—hello," his dad said, looking surprised.
His sister froze mid-motion.
I gave a soft smile, pretending not to notice their reactions. "Hello," I said politely, bowing before sliding into a seat on the table.
"Alejun!" Diego's mom called from the kitchen.
"I'm coming!" a voice replied from down the hall.
Jiwoo dropped into the chair beside me, Diego taking the one next to him.
"Ready to lose that six pack?" I whispered with a grin.
They both smiled.
"Heck yeah," Diego said. "What do you think filled me up all this time—air?"
Jiwoo and I laughed.
A moment later, Diego's dad and sister sat down. His dad gave me a measuring look. "So, you're the new member?"
I nodded. "Yes, sir. My name is Kai."
"I see." He said nothing more.
Just then, Diego's mom entered, carrying a large tray. She set it down in the center of the table, and my breath caught. Stacks of golden tostadas, decorated with steaming chicken, fresh lettuce, crumbly white cheese, rich cream, and a vibrant red salsa that smelled both smoky and spicy—it was a feast.
"Oh wow," I exclaimed. "This looks amazing!"
Diego's mom giggled.
"Thank you. Please, enjoy." She said in Spanish.
Without thinking, I clasped my hands together and bowed my head.
Thank you, Lord, for this meal. Please bless it, and may I enjoy this time with Diego's family. Amen.
I opened my eyes, snatched a tostada, and shoved it into my mouth. Shaking my head, I swallowed. "Diego, you lucky bastard—you're so lucky your mom's Mexican!"
Diego and his family burst out laughing.
"It's good, right?" he said, mouth full.
"Mmhmm!" Jiwoo and I mumbled, our mouths stuffed.
Just then, someone new walked in and plopped into a chair. He looked like a mini-Diego but clearly mixed, taking after their mom.
"Who's this?" he asked, pointing directly at me.
"Alejun, stop pointing!" Diego's sister scolded.
"I'm your brother's friend," I said, trying to sound polite with a mouthful of food.
Alejun squinted at me. "Are you the new member? …Yep, you definitely are. Your face card is lethal. So—how many girls have you slept with?"
I choked mid-bite, coughing.
"Alejun!" Mom snapped. "That is inappropriate."
Dad's glare could have burned holes through him.
I was shocked…but honestly, a little amused.
Jiwoo slid me a cup of water, trying not to smile.
I swallowed hard and wiped my mouth. "I'm a virgin."
"Seriously?!" Diego and Jiwoo exclaimed in unison.
I frowned. What do you guys think of me?
"I don't believe you," Alejun leaned forward. "Guys with your faces like your's are usually womanizers."
I shook my head. "I'm not like that. I've never had a girlfriend. My old company wouldn't allow it anyway. And even if I wanted to… I believe that kind of stuff is for marriage."
Diego's parents looked pleasantly surprised.
"You're waiting for marriage?" Diego's dad asked.
I nodded.
Truthfully, I'd never thought too deeply about it before—but the more I did, the more it felt… special. Even when I doubted God, every time I tried to brush off the Bible, its words always came back true. My mom drilled that into me growing up, and somehow, I've carried it with me ever since.
Jiwoo tilted his head, intrigued. "Are you Christian? I noticed you prayed earlier."
I nodded again, then inhaled another tostada.
"I still don't believe you," Alejun said, leaning back. "People with lethal face cards like yours are always hooking up and starting little harems."
That annoyed me. Even if my faith needed work, I stayed abstinent when it came to drinking, smoking, or casual flings.
"Don't lump me in with those fools. I practice self-control," I said coldly.
The table went quiet. I could've sworn Diego's dad was seeing me in a new light, and even Daniela blushed, keeping her eyes fixed on me.
Jiwoo and Diego stared wide-eyed, faces lit with newfound respect.
"I like you!" Alejun grinned. "Seeing someone like you is rare. We're also Christian—but unfortunately, one of us… didn't exactly practice self-control."
Diego snorted into his plate.
"Alejun!" Mom snapped. "You've crossed the line again."
Alejun threw up his hands. "I'm just stating the truth! Someone didn't keep her legs closed. Right, Daniela-nuna?"
Diego tried to hold back laughter, shoulders shaking.
Diego's sister-Daniela pressed her lips together, eyes dark.
"Daniela-nuna says we're too conservative and need to loosen up," Alejun continued. "But look, Daniel-nuna, this handsome, ideal man, a virgin with a beastly body—"
"I've never shown you my body!" I shot back.
"—basically every woman's dream is waiting for marriage. Too bad you lost your's, now you can't have him."
"Alejun!" Mom snapped in Spanish. "Behave yourself!"
"Imagine my pain," he said dramatically, as if he were the victim. "I'm the younger brother of a…hoe."
"Ay ay ay, that's too much," Jiwoo muttered, lips twitching.
I raised an eyebrow. "Boy, why do you talk like that? How old are you?"
"One year younger than Diego-hyung," he said matter-of-factly.
Then he tilted his head, shook it like a bobblehead, and let out that bizarre sound: "Hu, hu, hu, hu, hu…"
I blinked. "What the heck was that? You look stupid. Do you want to see how you look?"
Before I could stop myself, I mimicked him perfectly: "Hu, hu, hu, hu, hu…"
Everyone erupted into laughter.
"I have Tourette's," Alejun said casually. "Sometimes my mouth just…does its own thing."
*Tourette syndrome—it's basically a neurological disorder that makes people blurt things out or twitch without meaning to. They call those little bursts tics.
My jaw dropped. "Oh…shoot. My bad."
I lowered my head, shame flooding my face.
Jiwoo and Diego nearly fell out of their chairs laughing.
"Nah, it's fine," Alejun shrugged. "That's why I'm homeschooled. Honestly, I blame my parents for…not manufacturing me correctly."
A smile threatened to overtake my lips. "It's okay—it's okay. You're handsome."
Alejun scoffed and smirked. "I know, right?" He bit his lip, brushed off imaginary crumbs, and narrowed his eyes dramatically. "I'm so hot, I make Daniela-nuna look manly."
Daniela scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You wish. I'm honestly prettier than you. Why do you think I attract more the opposite gender than you do,"
"Girl, you know you're not. The guys you slept with didn't do it 'cause you're attractive—they did it 'cause they're dogs in heat."
My mouth fell open. "Oh my gosh!" I turned to Diego in disbelief, like I needed confirmation this was real.
Diego's face was red from laughing.
Jiwoo's whole body was shaking, his hand clutching his stomach.
It was clear that they were used to Alejun's outbursts.
"Dude… Alejun, you're going places," I said, shaking my head.
"I know. I can't even bring my friends home because his whole mouth is lewd," Daniela muttered, giving me a shy glance.
This kid is insane.
Diego's mom quickly cut in, her tone apologetic and in Spanish. "I'm sorry, Kai, but my son's tics usually involve obscene language."
I nodded, shaking my head. "Yeah, I can tell. Alejun… you need Jesus."
"I already know!" he snapped.
I bit my lip, another smile threatening to break free.
"But honestly, I don't think I'm that bad compared to other people," he claimed.
"Oh yeah?" Jiwoo grinned.
"Duh—I'm still a virgin. By the way, are you still one?"
Jiwoo blinked, then nodded.
Alejun's head snapped to me. "Wait—Oppa, have you had your first kiss yet?"
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Gosh! What are these questions!"
"That's how my brother is," Diego sighed.
"Yeah, there's no stopping him," Daniela muttered.
Alejun's tics kicked in again. "Hu hu hu hu hu hu hu—" Then suddenly: "I have a gun!"
My jaw dropped.
"Damn, Alejun," Jiwoo muttered, slapping a hand over his mouth. He gave up a second later and collapsed against my shoulder, shaking with laughter.
Diego was literally sliding out of his chair.
Diego was dying in his chair.
Alejun twitched again. "Hu hu hu hu hu hu hu hu—" Then, without warning, he yanked his shirt over his head.
"See this? Nothing! My nipples are smaller than a dime." He flicked one proudly like it was some kind of talent show act.
Jiwoo nearly fell out of his chair. Daniela screamed.
"Put your shirt down!" Daniela shrieked.
"¡Por el amor de Dios!" Diego's mom slapped her forehead.
But Alejun only tossed the shirt across the room. "Nope. Free the nipples!"
The whole table exploded. Jiwoo was crying. Diego was doubled over. Even Diego's dad had to hide his face behind a napkin.
Meanwhile Diego's mother looked extremely embarrassed.
Alejun stretched, bare-chested, like he'd just claimed victory. "Ahhh, that's better."
He leaned toward his sister. "You're next!"
Daniela rolled her eyes so hard.
Diego's mom's glare could've killed a man.
"Stop hitting me, Jiwoo," I wheezed, but truthfully, I couldn't stop laughing either.
Jiwoo's face was bright red as he kept smacking my shoulder, practically crying.
Alejun shrugged, utterly unbothered, and flopped back into his chair as if nothing had happened.
"Anyway, you guys ever see those bikers at the park who think they're hot stuff?" he continued, as if flashing his nipples had been a normal appetizer to his story. "There was this one dude doing tricks, flexing his chest, trying so hard to impress the pretty girls. But guess what? Not a single one was watching—only the grandmas."
A chuckle slipped out of me.
What is happening right now. This kid is moving on too fast for me to keep up.
Alejun suddenly looked mournful, clutching his chest like it was Shakespeare drama. "I felt bad for the guy, not gonna lie. He wanted señoritas… but he only got abuelitas."
The whole table exploded with laughter.
Diego laughed so hard he actually toppled off his chair.
I started to get worried—his face was turning tomato-red, and tears were streaming down his cheeks like a busted faucet.
"And it was crazy! You know those bike tricks in the air that are supposed to be fast and intense, right? Bro was doing them in slow motion. Like—" Alejun started flailing his arms in exaggerated slow motion, tongue sticking out for effect. "He looked like a dying pigeon trying to get off the ground."
I choked on my drink. Daniela covered her face.
"And I'm sitting there like—nah dude, you bike like old people fu—"
"ALEJUN, YOU'RE DONE!" Diego's mom and Daniela shouted at once.
–
"That was honestly the best dinner I've had in a while—and I'm not just talking about the food," I said, sprawled out on Diego's comfy bed.
"I know! I really like Alejun!" Jiwoo said from the floor, already set up with just a pillow and blanket.
"Yeah, he's insane but I love him the same. Honestly, he liked you a lot," Diego said, walking into the room.
"That dude needs his mouth washed personally by Jesus," I muttered.
Jiwoo giggled. "When he said that guy biked like old people fu—" Jiwoo broke down laughing before he could even finish. Diego joined in, nearly wheezing. "That was the most insane comeback I've ever heard!"
I grinned wide. "I know! Like… I never once thought about that—nor do I ever want to."
"I'm pretty sure your brother has ADHD, right, Diego?" I asked.
Diego flicked off the lights and slid under the covers beside me. "He's not diagnosed or anything, but… yeah, I'm pretty sure."
"Nah, he definitely does," Jiwoo and I said at the same time.
We all cracked up.
"I really like that little terp," I admitted.
Diego scooted closer until his head rested against my shoulder. "I'm glad you like him. Most people are uncomfortable around my brother… thanks, Kai-hyung." His voice softened.
"That's because I'm also insane."
Diego snorted. Jiwoo let out a high-pitched giggle.
"You sure you wanna sleep with Diego? He's super clingy," Jiwoo teased, shifting in his blanket.
I yawned, stretching before wrapping my arms around Diego as if we were a married couple. "I don't mind."
"Lowkey, we messed up—it's three a.m.," I mumbled. "This is our only chance to actually sleep before we film the music video."
"I know," Diego yawned back.
"I'm not that worried. Training doesn't start until late afternoon—we can still get twelve hours of sleep if we knock out now." Jiwoo yawned.
"Let's sleep, little bros," I yawned.
"Goodnight."
"Night." Jiwoo mumbled.