Chapter Text
Jeffrey misses New York.
At home in New York, he didn't have seventeen roommates stuffed into one house, some of which he can't even understand. At home in New York, the bathroom was not an actual hell in the evenings, with five or more fussing young men all crowding around the sink at the same time. At home in New York, he actually was able to have some peace and quiet at night, and sleep without getting woken up by someone’s sleep-talking in the bunk above him or someone rolling off the bottom bunk across the room and landing on the wood floor with a terribly loud thump.
At home in New York, there was no chance of him walking into a practice room to find one of the other boys leaning against the far wall with his head thrown back, and another person on his knees in front of him—specifically, the Korean who had seemed to glare at Jeffrey when they met, Yongju, and the dancer on Jeffrey’s team, Shuchen.
(At home in New York, Jeffrey did not have voyeuristic teammates.)
And at home in New York, he did not wake up some mornings to those three tall boys huddled in a corner of the room talking conspiratorially, glancing over each others’ shoulders, the oldest, sharp-nosed one narrowing his eyes at Jeffrey when their gazes meet.
(At home in New York, Jeffrey did not have to worry about the risk of getting his throat slit in the middle of the night by some kids he’s seen people call noodles.)
At home in New York, there was no Zhu Yunlong pining about Wu Muti in a corner of the backyard at 10 PM, no Zhao Fangzhou and He Yifan making out in the back hall, no Zhao Pinlin and Yu Gengyin having long, mumbled conversations in the living room that are, judging from the snatches Jeffrey hears, all too cringingly romantic for anyone to listen to for any amount of time.
Most importantly, at home in New York, there was no Kim Ming with his wandering eyes and uneven smile watching him while he dances, no Kim Ming with his broad shoulders and set jaw coming to lean on the piano as he plays, and definitely no Kim Ming saying things Jeffrey doesn’t understand under his breath as he passes that sound strangely provocative - one way or another.
Jeffrey considers, some days, shooting something scathing in English back at whatever the Korean boy is saying simply for the satisfaction, but also considers the possibility that he might very well understand - if the kid can be bilingual in Korean and Mandarin, Jeffrey’s not putting it past him to know some English as well.
(There’s also the possibility that he’s not even saying anything bad. But Jeffrey doesn’t want to believe that. Teammates or not, this is a survival show. Jeffrey isn’t here to make friends. He doubts Kim Ming is.)
Jeffrey manages, brushing off the nagging curiosity about the words Kim Ming says as best he can, up until Zhou Wen nudges him one day during a break from practice and whispers, “Jin Ming is looking at you.”
“So?” Jeffrey whispers back. “He can look at people, it’s not a big deal.”
“I mean looking,” Zhou Wen insists. “Intense looking. Like he wants to eat you or something.”
“That makes no sense.” Jeffrey furrows his brows at the other Chinese boy, incredulous, but curiosity gets the best of him and he glances over in Kim Ming’s direction. Sure enough, he’s met with those placid eyes, narrowed now, more intense than he ever remembers them being. Jeffrey looks away in an instant, something like alarm flaring in his chest.
“See, I told you,” Zhou Wen says smugly. “Not believing a perfectly honest person, what did they teach you in Niuyue?”
“New York taught me plenty fine,” Jeffrey mutters, emphasizing the English New York just for spite. Zhou Wen shrugs, a wordless “if you say so”.
Jeffrey risks another glance in Kim Ming’s direction; he’s looking elsewhere now, watching Tian Shuchen running through the dance apathetically. Jeffrey sighs a long-suffering sigh as Zhou Wen gets to his feet, pats him on the shoulder, and walks over to talk to Gengyin. There's still a weird feeling in his chest as he shakes himself and reaches for his water bottle.
At home in New York, there was no Kim Ming. Jeffrey is pretty sure that was a good thing.