Hail to the Chief (for castleofpearls)
For: castleofpearls
From: kojafras
Title: Hail to the Chief
Rating: G
Length: 2906 words
Summary: Winning is impossible when the opponent is Kim Jongdae.
Notes: Thanks T for putting up with me!
Joonmyun steps on campus and stops in the middle of the surging crowd to take a deep breath, ignoring the shoves and shouts of the students trying to get past him because this is it. This is his year.
As a dutiful son and Ivy League hopeful, Joonmyun has been doing nothing but immersing himself in the diverse clubs the school has to offer-well that and keeping his straight-A record-and has done his best to become a community leader. As an officer of the art club last year, he had created a mural for the gloomy side of the building that had yet to be defaced, and for the environmental committee, he had designed a botanical garden in the back of the school with the help of a few architecture students and volunteers who didn’t mind getting their hands dirty for a good cause. And those were only a few accomplishments.
But his true goal, and the most coveted position of all time is just within his grasp: Senior Class President.
In the past, motivation had been at a record low, and only one person ended up running for the title. Joonmyun hopes it’ll be the same, he’s been spending three years talking about his hopes and dreams so really, everyone should know that he’ll be in the race. But that doesn’t mean that he’s not prepared.
He has been spending all summer thinking up catchy slogans and planning his entire campaign. He’s ready. He was born ready.
So after the last announcements are made at the end of the day, Joonmyun troops down to the front office and hands in the slip of paper he’d received before the school year, the paper that would ensure his running and subsequent winning of the student body election. The nice woman behind the desk takes it with a smile and settles it beside her.
“You know, it’s funny,” she starts with a queer kind of smile, “this is the first year we’ve had more than one candidate.”
Joonmyun stops breathing. Before he can control himself, he hoists himself over the desk, ignores the secretary’s squawk, and peeks at the papers on the desk until he spots a name. When he sees it, his jaw drops.
Kim Jongdae.
--
There is no way he is going to win this alone, not when Kim Jongdae is his opponent. While not the sharpest tack, the kid is a born and bred extrovert and has befriended everyone in a five-mile radius. So really, Joonmyun is forced to call in backup.
He whines to gain attention from the slumbering giant across from him in the library. The bleached blond slowly raises his head and regards Joonmyun through bleary eyes. “Ugh. What time is it?”
“It is wonderful to see you too, Kris. It is currently halfway through third period, so I took the liberty of telling your teacher that you were sick and I was monitoring you in the nurse’s office.” He taps the heel of his foot against the chair leg, wondering when Kris will cut to the chase.
“You know my schedule? And what, do you just aide all day or something?”
“I make it my business to know the schedule of everyone that matters. And yes.”
Kris frowns, blinks, and then drops his head back onto the table. “What’d you want?”
Joonmyun beams, able to decipher the question although it is mumbled into a shirtsleeve. “So, I don’t know if you’re aware, but the student body elections are soon.”
“You’re running.” Kris shifts to meet Joonmyun’s eyes. “Of course.”
“Of course,” Joonmyun agrees with a half-grin. “It’s just that Kim Jongdae has entered the race too, so-” He is unable to finish because Kris shoots out of his chair, cursing loudly when his knee bangs the bottom of the table.
“No kidding!” He says finally. “Then you might not win. Wow, this is going to be a tough one. Good luck, though.”
“Wait. That’s why I came.”
Kris raises a thick eyebrow, looking only slightly intimidating. But Joonmyun knows about his pony sticker-adorned books so he remains unfazed. For the most part.
“I was wondering if you could help me. You know, with the campaign and all that. I have no idea who to ask and what to do. I wasn’t expecting anything like this.”
“I don’t think anyone was.” Kris muses. “But hey, no problem. I think I know some people.” He returns Joonmyun’s grin and then yawns. “Right. So could you go and monitor me from somewhere else, now?”
Joonmyun speeds away from the table, closing the door softly behind him.
--
When he comes to school the next day, Kris is waiting next to the front gates. He stops in place and Kris groans, stomping over and throwing an arm over his shoulder so that he can drag him away from the morning crowd.
“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he squeaks.
“Apology not accepted,” Kris grunts, “but anyway, here’s a couple guys I rounded up. Meet Minseok. Oh, and Luhan. But he’s not helpful don’t pay any attention to him.”
The slightly shorter man huffs. “I wouldn’t have come. But Minseok insisted so-”
“Hi!” The shortest chirps, sticking out a hand that Joonmyun wearily shakes. “I’m Joonmyun and I help tutor literature, and Kris said you might need help writing a speech.”
Joonmyun starts. He looks at Kris, who smirks, and then back at Minseok. “That would be, wow, so fantastic! You’re really willing to do that?”
Minseok scoffs. “It’s no problem for me. Plus, aren’t the elections in a couple of weeks? I’d be happy to help.”
Joonmyun frowns at the mention of time. Right.
“It’s a problem for me,” Luhan mutters, crossing his arms.
There’re three dull tones in the background and Joonmyun snaps to attention. “I’ve got to get to class,” he worries, tearing himself away from Kris. He shakes Minseok’s hand one more time, saying, “thanks again,” and then he’s off.
--
Kris finds him in the halls every single day that week and Joonmyun vaguely wonders if his classmate attends any of his courses before he’s being thrusted in the direction of someone he’s never even seen before. He takes this as a sign that he needs to branch out, which he will of course do. After he wins elections.
Today he’s being thrown at a boy his height who looks half amused with the situation. Joonmyun shoots Kris a glare before holding out his hand. “Joonmyun. I guess Kris told you about the situation?”
The boy nods, adjusting the headphones around his neck. “I am Yixing. I’m in the Players Club. Theatre. Kris talked to me because he was worried about your stage presence or,” his eyes glint and Joonmyun gulps, “any stage fright.”
Joonmyun gives a dry laugh that echoes in the sound room, a tiny little thing that overlooks the auditorium. Right now it’s a mess of wires and tapes but that’s just because they’ve started gearing up for the fall musical. Mentally, he adds this Yixing to the list of people Kris has recruited, which includes Minseok, his irritable shadow Luhan, and a happy-go-lucky freshman named Tao that Kris had insisted he needs for rallying purposes. Tao had bounced happily as Joonmyun keyed in his number to the younger’s contact list and then the six foot tall ball of happiness had skipped away. Since then, Joonmyun wakes up every day to a good morning! (≧∇≦)/ on his phone and he supposes that it’s not all that bad.
“The auditorium is free during fourth period, and I can hook everything up so that it’ll seem more real. How does that sound?” Yixing smiles, and then checks his watch. “Um, Kris, we have photo now.”
The taller man blinks. “Since when has that been a thing?”
--
Joonmyun has never exactly talked to Jongdae. He’s heard him talk, sure-who hasn’t?-but he’s never actually had a real heart to heart with the guy.
It’s seven days until D Day when he passes the life ruiner in the main corridor. To Joonmyun’s surprise, it’s Jongdae who stops him.
“Hey,” Jongdae greets, smile charming and grip loose enough to break free, if Joonmyun wanted to. “So elections are in a week, and I know you’re doing your best so, good luck!”
Joonmyun opens his mouth to thank the guy because, wow, he was so wrong and Jongdae really isn’t that bad, but then a pair of girls walk past them and one whispers to the other, “yeah, he’s going to need it,” and Joonmyun rips his hand free of the hold. Now that he thinks about it, Jongdae’s always been a sarcastic kind of guy, and hold up. He’s mocking him. Joonmyun scowls.
“You too,” he snaps, turning on his heel and walking away, not able to see the confused and hurt glance Jongdae sends him as he throws open the door to Advanced Trig and disappears.
--
“So, I’ve gotta jet but here you are.” Kris gestures to the room behind him. It’s past six in the afternoon and every other sane human being has already fled the building.
Joonmyun frowns. “You’re not going in with me?”
Kris laughs. “You’re not going to make a very good fearless leader.” And then he pulls open the door and pushes Joonmyun inside.
Three heads pop up upon his arrival. It’s an art studio, in the wide open art wing, so the walls are littered with all different kinds of work, macaroni and acrylic alike, and the desks are strewn about the room, covered in dried paint, clay, hopes and dreams.
“Hi,” Joonmyun greets, offering a small smile and a wave. Two of the three wave back, a very tall boy so enthusiastically that he falls off the desk he’s perched on and face plants onto the floor. A dark haired boy looks on, lip curled.
“So, Kris told us something about the elections…?” One of the two seated says, watching as his awkwardly tall friend rights himself. “Sorry, we weren’t really listening. Too busy looking at his pants.”
“They were abhorrent,” the gloomy one states, sketching something onto the pad beneath him.
“Oh, well, I’m running for Class President next week, and I was wondering if you would mind helping me make posters? I really can’t create anything artistic to save my life,” Joonmyun finishes with a self-deprecating laugh.
The tall one looks alarmed. “Um. You know we’re all friends with Jongdae, right?” Well. That explains it. The most talkative out of the three goes on, “we have been since middle school. Helping out the opposition would be-”
“A great idea,” the boy has stopped sketching, looking interested. “We’ll help you. We can have posters done by the end of the week. Just send someone to pick them up and hang them around the school.”
“Kyungsoo,” the tallest says in an outraged, but still ridiculously low, tone. “What are you doing?”
“He didn’t ask for any help and that’s his own problem. If someone else needs it, then it’s his loss,” Kyungsoo snaps. “Baekhyun, stop and get me some of that nice poster paper on your way home.”
The dark-haired boy groans. “Chanyeol, go with me?”
The tallest nods eagerly, leaning on a row of desks. He notices that Joonmyun hasn’t left yet. “No worries,” he says with a grin, “with a sign by Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, there’s no way you can’t win.”
--
He has three days. Three days to nail the speech he and Minseok spent hours writing and editing (while Luhan sat in a corner and moped.)
“Are you even trying?” Yixing questions doubtfully. “Where is the emotion? The life? Your speech is a dead man who has come back for his dentures, Joonmyun.”
Yixing is a strange person who uses strange analogies and Joonmyun has learned to deal with them. He clears his throat and prepares to start again.
The double doors in the back of the auditorium slam open and Kris marches in, dragging two sullen boys whilst Tao skips along behind him.
“What are you doing?” Joonmyun snaps. “I know for a fact that Tao has a class right now.”
“Carry your voice,” Yixing reminds him gently.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”Joonmyun tries again. Yixing claps.
“This is Sehun and Jongin and they will be your best friends for the next couple of grueling days. Isn’t that right?” Both boys groan in response.
“They tried to steal Kris’ bike so he grabbed them and brought them straight here,” Tao chirps helpfully.
“It wasn’t even that good of a bike. We could’ve maybe gotten five bucks for parts, if Jongin could even get it apart. That thing was rusted solid.”
“Piece of crap,” Jongin agrees.
“Joonmyun, I think you should make them clean the school. Top to bottom. Just a suggestion.” Kris shrugs nonchalantly, grip unrelenting.
“I think Baekhyun said that Kyungsoo was done with the posters. They could put those up?” Joonmyun supplies and Kris nods, letting go and instructing Tao to walk them down. He collapses into a cushioned chair. The upholstery is starting to wear away, revealing ugly yellow foam, but the school doesn’t have the time or luxury to replace them.
“So, how are you doing?”
“Great,” Joonmyun lies. But then he remembers all the work that he, Kris, and everyone else has put into this campaign. His gaze hardens. “We’re going to knock the socks off of Kim Jongdae.”
--
“The position of Class President is possibly the most important job in the entire school.” Joonmyun nods in agreement. He’s been nodding almost nonstop throughout the principal’s speech. “That is why I ask you to vote carefully and thoughtfully. Not just for your friends! Alright, have at it. First up, we have Kim Joonmyun.”
Joonmyun shakily rises to his feet, aware of the tired clapping surrounding him and the loud whoops coming from the rear. On stage, he can see the ten boys gathered in the back, large smiles gracing each of their faces-even Minseok and Sehun-and Joonmyun smiles right back before unfolding his piece of paper and taking a deep breath.
The speech is second nature by now. Minseok and Yixing have drilled it into his mind so well that his attention wanders as he talks about his capabilities and goals. He remembers the hoard of papers littering every single hallway with his face dead center, drawn in fine pointed Sharpie. He thinks of the texts in the morning that had started with Tao, and grown to include Jongin’s complaints, Chanyeol’s song lyrics of the day, and Kris’ selfies. He finishes with a smile and a bow as the applause booms. He returns to his seat just as Jongdae stands.
The applause is deafening. People stand. Girls scream. Jongdae grins and rips up the piece of paper he has with him. “Oops, I forgot to prepare a speech,” he says with a mock-sheepish smile. Everyone laughs.
Midway through the talking, Joonmyun gets up and walks as fast as he can to the back, burying his face in Kris’ chest and hoping that he can just become a part of the taller man. No one will notice.
A hand rubs his back gently. “You did a great job,” Yixing commends, rare smile gracing his features. The others join in, congratulating him with whispered enthusiasm. It’s forced.
“Winning isn’t everything,” Tao states with a serious face.
Joonmyun nods miserably.
--
He’s sitting on the front steps outside, has been since the winner was announced. No one comes out here any more, so it’s a nice place to sit, listen to the wind, analyze shadows, and wonder what he did wrong.
“Hey.”
Joonmyun hastily wipes his eyes before looking up. Not crying. Just tired. “Congratulations,” he greets in return, hoping Jongdae’s parents will be happy for him. Joonmyun hopes he has a dad likes his own, a Harvard grad who has talked about nothing but his years serving as Class President for over a month now. “How does it feel?”
“Not that great,” Jongdae says seriously, plopping down beside Joonmyun and disregarding the other’s sullen attitude. “I made a mistake.”
Joonmyun acts like his interest hasn’t been piqued. “Oh. You did?”
“Yeah,” Jongdae leans his head on his hand, looking directly at Joonmyun. “I joined the race because I thought I could impress this guy because it seems like something that he would like. Stupid me, I completely forgot about the fact that he would probably be running too." He sighs needlessly loud. "Now he probably hates me.”
Joonmyun blinks. Then he sputters. “He doesn’t! Hate you. I mean, maybe. I wouldn’t know.” He looks away, and then mutters under his breath, “maybe he’s just a little jealous.”
“He shouldn’t be!” Jongdae exclaims, grinning widely. Joonmyun finds it a little mesmerizing. “In all seriousness, though, I am a horrible lead figure. I cannot possible fill this position without a Vice President who is better than me at everything. Any idea where I can find one?”
Joonmyun gapes.
Jongdae grins wider and leans forward, whispering into Joonmyun ear, “I like you.” He leans back and casually rests his hand on top of Joonmyun’s. “So, are you game?”
“Um,” Joonmyun says intelligently, brain short wiring as he tries to process this. Jongdae. What even is Jongdae. “Sure. I’m game.”
Jongdae grins cheekily, giving his hand a little squeeze. “Awesome.”
From: kojafras
Title: Hail to the Chief
Rating: G
Length: 2906 words
Summary: Winning is impossible when the opponent is Kim Jongdae.
Notes: Thanks T for putting up with me!
Joonmyun steps on campus and stops in the middle of the surging crowd to take a deep breath, ignoring the shoves and shouts of the students trying to get past him because this is it. This is his year.
As a dutiful son and Ivy League hopeful, Joonmyun has been doing nothing but immersing himself in the diverse clubs the school has to offer-well that and keeping his straight-A record-and has done his best to become a community leader. As an officer of the art club last year, he had created a mural for the gloomy side of the building that had yet to be defaced, and for the environmental committee, he had designed a botanical garden in the back of the school with the help of a few architecture students and volunteers who didn’t mind getting their hands dirty for a good cause. And those were only a few accomplishments.
But his true goal, and the most coveted position of all time is just within his grasp: Senior Class President.
In the past, motivation had been at a record low, and only one person ended up running for the title. Joonmyun hopes it’ll be the same, he’s been spending three years talking about his hopes and dreams so really, everyone should know that he’ll be in the race. But that doesn’t mean that he’s not prepared.
He has been spending all summer thinking up catchy slogans and planning his entire campaign. He’s ready. He was born ready.
So after the last announcements are made at the end of the day, Joonmyun troops down to the front office and hands in the slip of paper he’d received before the school year, the paper that would ensure his running and subsequent winning of the student body election. The nice woman behind the desk takes it with a smile and settles it beside her.
“You know, it’s funny,” she starts with a queer kind of smile, “this is the first year we’ve had more than one candidate.”
Joonmyun stops breathing. Before he can control himself, he hoists himself over the desk, ignores the secretary’s squawk, and peeks at the papers on the desk until he spots a name. When he sees it, his jaw drops.
Kim Jongdae.
--
There is no way he is going to win this alone, not when Kim Jongdae is his opponent. While not the sharpest tack, the kid is a born and bred extrovert and has befriended everyone in a five-mile radius. So really, Joonmyun is forced to call in backup.
He whines to gain attention from the slumbering giant across from him in the library. The bleached blond slowly raises his head and regards Joonmyun through bleary eyes. “Ugh. What time is it?”
“It is wonderful to see you too, Kris. It is currently halfway through third period, so I took the liberty of telling your teacher that you were sick and I was monitoring you in the nurse’s office.” He taps the heel of his foot against the chair leg, wondering when Kris will cut to the chase.
“You know my schedule? And what, do you just aide all day or something?”
“I make it my business to know the schedule of everyone that matters. And yes.”
Kris frowns, blinks, and then drops his head back onto the table. “What’d you want?”
Joonmyun beams, able to decipher the question although it is mumbled into a shirtsleeve. “So, I don’t know if you’re aware, but the student body elections are soon.”
“You’re running.” Kris shifts to meet Joonmyun’s eyes. “Of course.”
“Of course,” Joonmyun agrees with a half-grin. “It’s just that Kim Jongdae has entered the race too, so-” He is unable to finish because Kris shoots out of his chair, cursing loudly when his knee bangs the bottom of the table.
“No kidding!” He says finally. “Then you might not win. Wow, this is going to be a tough one. Good luck, though.”
“Wait. That’s why I came.”
Kris raises a thick eyebrow, looking only slightly intimidating. But Joonmyun knows about his pony sticker-adorned books so he remains unfazed. For the most part.
“I was wondering if you could help me. You know, with the campaign and all that. I have no idea who to ask and what to do. I wasn’t expecting anything like this.”
“I don’t think anyone was.” Kris muses. “But hey, no problem. I think I know some people.” He returns Joonmyun’s grin and then yawns. “Right. So could you go and monitor me from somewhere else, now?”
Joonmyun speeds away from the table, closing the door softly behind him.
--
When he comes to school the next day, Kris is waiting next to the front gates. He stops in place and Kris groans, stomping over and throwing an arm over his shoulder so that he can drag him away from the morning crowd.
“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he squeaks.
“Apology not accepted,” Kris grunts, “but anyway, here’s a couple guys I rounded up. Meet Minseok. Oh, and Luhan. But he’s not helpful don’t pay any attention to him.”
The slightly shorter man huffs. “I wouldn’t have come. But Minseok insisted so-”
“Hi!” The shortest chirps, sticking out a hand that Joonmyun wearily shakes. “I’m Joonmyun and I help tutor literature, and Kris said you might need help writing a speech.”
Joonmyun starts. He looks at Kris, who smirks, and then back at Minseok. “That would be, wow, so fantastic! You’re really willing to do that?”
Minseok scoffs. “It’s no problem for me. Plus, aren’t the elections in a couple of weeks? I’d be happy to help.”
Joonmyun frowns at the mention of time. Right.
“It’s a problem for me,” Luhan mutters, crossing his arms.
There’re three dull tones in the background and Joonmyun snaps to attention. “I’ve got to get to class,” he worries, tearing himself away from Kris. He shakes Minseok’s hand one more time, saying, “thanks again,” and then he’s off.
--
Kris finds him in the halls every single day that week and Joonmyun vaguely wonders if his classmate attends any of his courses before he’s being thrusted in the direction of someone he’s never even seen before. He takes this as a sign that he needs to branch out, which he will of course do. After he wins elections.
Today he’s being thrown at a boy his height who looks half amused with the situation. Joonmyun shoots Kris a glare before holding out his hand. “Joonmyun. I guess Kris told you about the situation?”
The boy nods, adjusting the headphones around his neck. “I am Yixing. I’m in the Players Club. Theatre. Kris talked to me because he was worried about your stage presence or,” his eyes glint and Joonmyun gulps, “any stage fright.”
Joonmyun gives a dry laugh that echoes in the sound room, a tiny little thing that overlooks the auditorium. Right now it’s a mess of wires and tapes but that’s just because they’ve started gearing up for the fall musical. Mentally, he adds this Yixing to the list of people Kris has recruited, which includes Minseok, his irritable shadow Luhan, and a happy-go-lucky freshman named Tao that Kris had insisted he needs for rallying purposes. Tao had bounced happily as Joonmyun keyed in his number to the younger’s contact list and then the six foot tall ball of happiness had skipped away. Since then, Joonmyun wakes up every day to a good morning! (≧∇≦)/ on his phone and he supposes that it’s not all that bad.
“The auditorium is free during fourth period, and I can hook everything up so that it’ll seem more real. How does that sound?” Yixing smiles, and then checks his watch. “Um, Kris, we have photo now.”
The taller man blinks. “Since when has that been a thing?”
--
Joonmyun has never exactly talked to Jongdae. He’s heard him talk, sure-who hasn’t?-but he’s never actually had a real heart to heart with the guy.
It’s seven days until D Day when he passes the life ruiner in the main corridor. To Joonmyun’s surprise, it’s Jongdae who stops him.
“Hey,” Jongdae greets, smile charming and grip loose enough to break free, if Joonmyun wanted to. “So elections are in a week, and I know you’re doing your best so, good luck!”
Joonmyun opens his mouth to thank the guy because, wow, he was so wrong and Jongdae really isn’t that bad, but then a pair of girls walk past them and one whispers to the other, “yeah, he’s going to need it,” and Joonmyun rips his hand free of the hold. Now that he thinks about it, Jongdae’s always been a sarcastic kind of guy, and hold up. He’s mocking him. Joonmyun scowls.
“You too,” he snaps, turning on his heel and walking away, not able to see the confused and hurt glance Jongdae sends him as he throws open the door to Advanced Trig and disappears.
--
“So, I’ve gotta jet but here you are.” Kris gestures to the room behind him. It’s past six in the afternoon and every other sane human being has already fled the building.
Joonmyun frowns. “You’re not going in with me?”
Kris laughs. “You’re not going to make a very good fearless leader.” And then he pulls open the door and pushes Joonmyun inside.
Three heads pop up upon his arrival. It’s an art studio, in the wide open art wing, so the walls are littered with all different kinds of work, macaroni and acrylic alike, and the desks are strewn about the room, covered in dried paint, clay, hopes and dreams.
“Hi,” Joonmyun greets, offering a small smile and a wave. Two of the three wave back, a very tall boy so enthusiastically that he falls off the desk he’s perched on and face plants onto the floor. A dark haired boy looks on, lip curled.
“So, Kris told us something about the elections…?” One of the two seated says, watching as his awkwardly tall friend rights himself. “Sorry, we weren’t really listening. Too busy looking at his pants.”
“They were abhorrent,” the gloomy one states, sketching something onto the pad beneath him.
“Oh, well, I’m running for Class President next week, and I was wondering if you would mind helping me make posters? I really can’t create anything artistic to save my life,” Joonmyun finishes with a self-deprecating laugh.
The tall one looks alarmed. “Um. You know we’re all friends with Jongdae, right?” Well. That explains it. The most talkative out of the three goes on, “we have been since middle school. Helping out the opposition would be-”
“A great idea,” the boy has stopped sketching, looking interested. “We’ll help you. We can have posters done by the end of the week. Just send someone to pick them up and hang them around the school.”
“Kyungsoo,” the tallest says in an outraged, but still ridiculously low, tone. “What are you doing?”
“He didn’t ask for any help and that’s his own problem. If someone else needs it, then it’s his loss,” Kyungsoo snaps. “Baekhyun, stop and get me some of that nice poster paper on your way home.”
The dark-haired boy groans. “Chanyeol, go with me?”
The tallest nods eagerly, leaning on a row of desks. He notices that Joonmyun hasn’t left yet. “No worries,” he says with a grin, “with a sign by Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, there’s no way you can’t win.”
--
He has three days. Three days to nail the speech he and Minseok spent hours writing and editing (while Luhan sat in a corner and moped.)
“Are you even trying?” Yixing questions doubtfully. “Where is the emotion? The life? Your speech is a dead man who has come back for his dentures, Joonmyun.”
Yixing is a strange person who uses strange analogies and Joonmyun has learned to deal with them. He clears his throat and prepares to start again.
The double doors in the back of the auditorium slam open and Kris marches in, dragging two sullen boys whilst Tao skips along behind him.
“What are you doing?” Joonmyun snaps. “I know for a fact that Tao has a class right now.”
“Carry your voice,” Yixing reminds him gently.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”Joonmyun tries again. Yixing claps.
“This is Sehun and Jongin and they will be your best friends for the next couple of grueling days. Isn’t that right?” Both boys groan in response.
“They tried to steal Kris’ bike so he grabbed them and brought them straight here,” Tao chirps helpfully.
“It wasn’t even that good of a bike. We could’ve maybe gotten five bucks for parts, if Jongin could even get it apart. That thing was rusted solid.”
“Piece of crap,” Jongin agrees.
“Joonmyun, I think you should make them clean the school. Top to bottom. Just a suggestion.” Kris shrugs nonchalantly, grip unrelenting.
“I think Baekhyun said that Kyungsoo was done with the posters. They could put those up?” Joonmyun supplies and Kris nods, letting go and instructing Tao to walk them down. He collapses into a cushioned chair. The upholstery is starting to wear away, revealing ugly yellow foam, but the school doesn’t have the time or luxury to replace them.
“So, how are you doing?”
“Great,” Joonmyun lies. But then he remembers all the work that he, Kris, and everyone else has put into this campaign. His gaze hardens. “We’re going to knock the socks off of Kim Jongdae.”
--
“The position of Class President is possibly the most important job in the entire school.” Joonmyun nods in agreement. He’s been nodding almost nonstop throughout the principal’s speech. “That is why I ask you to vote carefully and thoughtfully. Not just for your friends! Alright, have at it. First up, we have Kim Joonmyun.”
Joonmyun shakily rises to his feet, aware of the tired clapping surrounding him and the loud whoops coming from the rear. On stage, he can see the ten boys gathered in the back, large smiles gracing each of their faces-even Minseok and Sehun-and Joonmyun smiles right back before unfolding his piece of paper and taking a deep breath.
The speech is second nature by now. Minseok and Yixing have drilled it into his mind so well that his attention wanders as he talks about his capabilities and goals. He remembers the hoard of papers littering every single hallway with his face dead center, drawn in fine pointed Sharpie. He thinks of the texts in the morning that had started with Tao, and grown to include Jongin’s complaints, Chanyeol’s song lyrics of the day, and Kris’ selfies. He finishes with a smile and a bow as the applause booms. He returns to his seat just as Jongdae stands.
The applause is deafening. People stand. Girls scream. Jongdae grins and rips up the piece of paper he has with him. “Oops, I forgot to prepare a speech,” he says with a mock-sheepish smile. Everyone laughs.
Midway through the talking, Joonmyun gets up and walks as fast as he can to the back, burying his face in Kris’ chest and hoping that he can just become a part of the taller man. No one will notice.
A hand rubs his back gently. “You did a great job,” Yixing commends, rare smile gracing his features. The others join in, congratulating him with whispered enthusiasm. It’s forced.
“Winning isn’t everything,” Tao states with a serious face.
Joonmyun nods miserably.
--
He’s sitting on the front steps outside, has been since the winner was announced. No one comes out here any more, so it’s a nice place to sit, listen to the wind, analyze shadows, and wonder what he did wrong.
“Hey.”
Joonmyun hastily wipes his eyes before looking up. Not crying. Just tired. “Congratulations,” he greets in return, hoping Jongdae’s parents will be happy for him. Joonmyun hopes he has a dad likes his own, a Harvard grad who has talked about nothing but his years serving as Class President for over a month now. “How does it feel?”
“Not that great,” Jongdae says seriously, plopping down beside Joonmyun and disregarding the other’s sullen attitude. “I made a mistake.”
Joonmyun acts like his interest hasn’t been piqued. “Oh. You did?”
“Yeah,” Jongdae leans his head on his hand, looking directly at Joonmyun. “I joined the race because I thought I could impress this guy because it seems like something that he would like. Stupid me, I completely forgot about the fact that he would probably be running too." He sighs needlessly loud. "Now he probably hates me.”
Joonmyun blinks. Then he sputters. “He doesn’t! Hate you. I mean, maybe. I wouldn’t know.” He looks away, and then mutters under his breath, “maybe he’s just a little jealous.”
“He shouldn’t be!” Jongdae exclaims, grinning widely. Joonmyun finds it a little mesmerizing. “In all seriousness, though, I am a horrible lead figure. I cannot possible fill this position without a Vice President who is better than me at everything. Any idea where I can find one?”
Joonmyun gapes.
Jongdae grins wider and leans forward, whispering into Joonmyun ear, “I like you.” He leans back and casually rests his hand on top of Joonmyun’s. “So, are you game?”
“Um,” Joonmyun says intelligently, brain short wiring as he tries to process this. Jongdae. What even is Jongdae. “Sure. I’m game.”
Jongdae grins cheekily, giving his hand a little squeeze. “Awesome.”