Is It Just Me? (High School AU oneshot: 1/3)
Part 1 // Part 2
I am like this these days
He stares at the sign-up sheet, hanging in the wall in front of the guidance offices. He knows that the soccer team’s coach takes it down every day and puts in new sheets otherwise there wouldn’t be enough spaces for the amount of first years and transfers who sign up every day. The sign-up period is about halfway through, since apparently, the soccer team hasn’t finished putting together their criteria for the tryouts-and that’s delayed further by the midterms.
It’s been about a week since the sign-up sheets were put up so the numbers are starting to slow down per day. Usually, all three sheets would be filled by the time he comes around to see who’s signed up for the day. Today, it’s only one and a half, and he can’t stop staring at the name at the top of the second sheet.
He’s here because he was planning to sign up today-he planned to sign up today after telling his parents, after looking through more of the info sheets hanging around the school, after even dropping by and exchanging a few words with the coach during gym class. He’s here because he planned to sign up today-holding up the first sheet with one hand and the attached pen with his other.
Jiho came here to sign up-
But he leaves without writing his name down.
How are you?
It’s not like he doesn’t see him around at school. It’s not like he doesn’t see him in classes even though they never talk unless they have to. It’s not like he doesn’t see him in the mornings, walking into the building, or in the afternoons when they leave for the gates. He sees him all the time-they see each other all the time-always looking away, always looking down because they don’t know what to do now.
Jiho sees him all the time, sees him laughing with the new friends he’s made, laughing with sunbaes who’ve taken a liking to him. He sees Kyung all the time, passes him in the halls-has classes with Kyung, works with him when they’re grouped together, exchanges words that are purely about school with him when they need to during class.
Honestly, in all honesty, he doesn’t know why seeing Kyung’s name on the sign-up sheet stopped him from writing his own down. He just supposes that it stopped him short for a second-even though he knew, he should’ve expected, that of course Kyung would be trying out, too. Jiho should’ve known, but it’s not like he can control what flashes through his mind’s eye at a moment’s notice.
It’s not like he can control the kind of pain in his chest that makes him forget his name-let alone write it down.
I erase the spotted memories with the tears
It was probably a mistake, looking back. Probably one of the biggest mistakes Jiho’s ever made-ever will make-but it’s not like he can turn back time. And even if he could turn back time, he wouldn’t know which part to change anyway. He isn’t even sure which part went wrong, so all a time machine would be good for is that at the very least, he could go back and kick himself in the balls for being such an idiot.
I am living today, but deep inside I’m in the past
He doesn’t even know why he did it. He doesn’t understand, doesn’t have any fucking clue, how it could’ve made sense to him back then because no matter how he spins it around in his head now, it makes no sense at all-no sense whatsoever. The more he thinks about it, the more he doesn’t want to think about it because thinking just makes it hurt worse. Thinking makes it hurt worse, makes the regret stronger, but he still thinks about it anyway because he can’t forget.
He can’t forget because it’s impossible to forget the biggest mistake of his life-at least, thus far, and he hopes that it will always be his biggest mistake because if he makes any more mistakes bigger than this, it’ll probably end up with him dead anyway. It’s his mistake-his fault-his stupidity-his idiocy-he knows that. It’s his mistake, but even with that firmly, inevitably lodged in his mind-
Jiho can’t help but think it was Kyung’s fault, too.
Jiho might have said it first.
But it’s not like Kyung said anything against it.
In the house, in the parts of my room
“We’re gonna fall-we’re gonna fall,” Kyung repeats for the fifth time, voice muffled against Jiho’s chest-Kyung’s entire face is muffled against Jiho’s chest, and Jiho restrains the urge to make another joke about the other boy’s height even though the other boy will just make another crack at how Jiho’s parents are wasting money continuously buying him pants that’ll fit him.
Jiho doesn’t listen, just holds Kyung against his body tighter, refusing to let go even though he knows that it would make more sense for them to just go up the stairs separately instead of Jiho determinedly forcing them to make their way up to Jiho’s bedroom without breaking the hug. It’s not even that it would make more sense-it’s that this doesn’t make any sense, but Jiho still doesn’t take his arms away.
“We’re not gonna fall,” he says, giving up half way and only keeping one arm around Kyung’s neck as they breathe easier going up the rest of the way. “And you’re soaking wet-you think I want to hug you?”
Kyung glances at him, grinning but incredulous. “Seriously? Seriously, Woo Jiho? You think I want to suffocate? ‘Sides, you smell like mud.”
They reach the second floor-reach Jiho’s bedroom.
The evidences of you add on to my loneliness
Jiho yanks him in and kicks the door shut, locks the door even though his parents aren’t home yet. He tugs Kyung close again before the other boy can say anything and ducks his head down so their lips meet.
Soaking wet or drenched in mud, he doesn’t like having Kyung out of his arms for too long.
Do you go through these troubles as well?
They have the same period for literature.
Jiho usually shows up a few seconds before the bell rings to start the period because he’s coming from the other side of the school in the math hallway. It usually takes him all of the five minutes between class changes to run across the school, but today he fell asleep at the beginning of the period and the teacher sent him to sleep it off at the nurse’s office-meaning he was woken up five minutes before the bell to end classes rang, and had more than enough time to make it to literature.
It also means he’s early, and he supposes he should’ve remembered that Kyung has lunch right before literature, so the other boy is always the first in the classroom-sometimes even when the teacher isn’t there yet. And today is just like any other-something Jiho forgets until it’s too late and he’s already in the classroom, alone, with Kyung.
The other boy looks up instinctively-most likely thinking it to be the teacher-so Jiho looks down instinctively, walking straight to his desk just a few seats away from Kyung’s. He puts his backpack on the floor, slumping forward in his seat, all of his weight and arms sprawled over the desktop, mouth against his sleeve. It’s completely silent and the only sounds echoing through the room come from outside-students chatting, footsteps scurrying, teachers admonishing, friends laughing.
Jiho thinks it’s unfair-he thinks it’s completely unfair that Kyung can sit there unaffected while Jiho has to deal with his heart speeding so fast that he gets dizzy just from trying to slow it down.
I start to wonder-am I the only one like this?
He doesn’t know why he says it-part of him chalks it up to the fact that he hasn’t had lunch yet and he’s had less than twelve hours of sleep in the span of three days of exam review, while the rest of him chalks it up to the fact that he’s frustrated out of his mind and if he doesn’t just leak out this tiny bit, he’ll explode altogether soon enough anyway.
He says it while they’re lined up-while everyone is bustling around the classroom after the teacher comes in and tells them to turn in last night’s papers on the chair near the whiteboard. He says it because he’s right behind Kyung, waiting for the other boy to finish with the stapler. He says it because it’s the closest he’s been to Kyung since they stood next to each other at graduation and he’s staring right at the skin of the other boy’s neck, the strip of neck between Kyung’s dark hair and his collar and-
Is there no way else to know?
“So-you’re trying out for the team?”
Kyung spins around, almost dropping the stapler on the teacher’s laptop. He catches himself at the last minute, gripping it against his hip and staring up at Jiho. “What?”
Jiho stares back-he doesn’t know why he’s staring, just staring, because he’s the one who asked the question in the first place. But that’s all he can do, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t know why. He finds himself simply staring at Kyung’s eyes, behind large, black frames. “I-um-just-never mind,” he says, looking down and reaching for the stapler on the other side of the desk.
I write the text message and erase it again
I am like this these days
He stares at the sign-up sheet, hanging in the wall in front of the guidance offices. He knows that the soccer team’s coach takes it down every day and puts in new sheets otherwise there wouldn’t be enough spaces for the amount of first years and transfers who sign up every day. The sign-up period is about halfway through, since apparently, the soccer team hasn’t finished putting together their criteria for the tryouts-and that’s delayed further by the midterms.
It’s been about a week since the sign-up sheets were put up so the numbers are starting to slow down per day. Usually, all three sheets would be filled by the time he comes around to see who’s signed up for the day. Today, it’s only one and a half, and he can’t stop staring at the name at the top of the second sheet.
He’s here because he was planning to sign up today-he planned to sign up today after telling his parents, after looking through more of the info sheets hanging around the school, after even dropping by and exchanging a few words with the coach during gym class. He’s here because he planned to sign up today-holding up the first sheet with one hand and the attached pen with his other.
Jiho came here to sign up-
But he leaves without writing his name down.
How are you?
It’s not like he doesn’t see him around at school. It’s not like he doesn’t see him in classes even though they never talk unless they have to. It’s not like he doesn’t see him in the mornings, walking into the building, or in the afternoons when they leave for the gates. He sees him all the time-they see each other all the time-always looking away, always looking down because they don’t know what to do now.
Jiho sees him all the time, sees him laughing with the new friends he’s made, laughing with sunbaes who’ve taken a liking to him. He sees Kyung all the time, passes him in the halls-has classes with Kyung, works with him when they’re grouped together, exchanges words that are purely about school with him when they need to during class.
Honestly, in all honesty, he doesn’t know why seeing Kyung’s name on the sign-up sheet stopped him from writing his own down. He just supposes that it stopped him short for a second-even though he knew, he should’ve expected, that of course Kyung would be trying out, too. Jiho should’ve known, but it’s not like he can control what flashes through his mind’s eye at a moment’s notice.
It’s not like he can control the kind of pain in his chest that makes him forget his name-let alone write it down.
I erase the spotted memories with the tears
It was probably a mistake, looking back. Probably one of the biggest mistakes Jiho’s ever made-ever will make-but it’s not like he can turn back time. And even if he could turn back time, he wouldn’t know which part to change anyway. He isn’t even sure which part went wrong, so all a time machine would be good for is that at the very least, he could go back and kick himself in the balls for being such an idiot.
I am living today, but deep inside I’m in the past
He doesn’t even know why he did it. He doesn’t understand, doesn’t have any fucking clue, how it could’ve made sense to him back then because no matter how he spins it around in his head now, it makes no sense at all-no sense whatsoever. The more he thinks about it, the more he doesn’t want to think about it because thinking just makes it hurt worse. Thinking makes it hurt worse, makes the regret stronger, but he still thinks about it anyway because he can’t forget.
He can’t forget because it’s impossible to forget the biggest mistake of his life-at least, thus far, and he hopes that it will always be his biggest mistake because if he makes any more mistakes bigger than this, it’ll probably end up with him dead anyway. It’s his mistake-his fault-his stupidity-his idiocy-he knows that. It’s his mistake, but even with that firmly, inevitably lodged in his mind-
Jiho can’t help but think it was Kyung’s fault, too.
Jiho might have said it first.
But it’s not like Kyung said anything against it.
In the house, in the parts of my room
“We’re gonna fall-we’re gonna fall,” Kyung repeats for the fifth time, voice muffled against Jiho’s chest-Kyung’s entire face is muffled against Jiho’s chest, and Jiho restrains the urge to make another joke about the other boy’s height even though the other boy will just make another crack at how Jiho’s parents are wasting money continuously buying him pants that’ll fit him.
Jiho doesn’t listen, just holds Kyung against his body tighter, refusing to let go even though he knows that it would make more sense for them to just go up the stairs separately instead of Jiho determinedly forcing them to make their way up to Jiho’s bedroom without breaking the hug. It’s not even that it would make more sense-it’s that this doesn’t make any sense, but Jiho still doesn’t take his arms away.
“We’re not gonna fall,” he says, giving up half way and only keeping one arm around Kyung’s neck as they breathe easier going up the rest of the way. “And you’re soaking wet-you think I want to hug you?”
Kyung glances at him, grinning but incredulous. “Seriously? Seriously, Woo Jiho? You think I want to suffocate? ‘Sides, you smell like mud.”
They reach the second floor-reach Jiho’s bedroom.
The evidences of you add on to my loneliness
Jiho yanks him in and kicks the door shut, locks the door even though his parents aren’t home yet. He tugs Kyung close again before the other boy can say anything and ducks his head down so their lips meet.
Soaking wet or drenched in mud, he doesn’t like having Kyung out of his arms for too long.
Do you go through these troubles as well?
They have the same period for literature.
Jiho usually shows up a few seconds before the bell rings to start the period because he’s coming from the other side of the school in the math hallway. It usually takes him all of the five minutes between class changes to run across the school, but today he fell asleep at the beginning of the period and the teacher sent him to sleep it off at the nurse’s office-meaning he was woken up five minutes before the bell to end classes rang, and had more than enough time to make it to literature.
It also means he’s early, and he supposes he should’ve remembered that Kyung has lunch right before literature, so the other boy is always the first in the classroom-sometimes even when the teacher isn’t there yet. And today is just like any other-something Jiho forgets until it’s too late and he’s already in the classroom, alone, with Kyung.
The other boy looks up instinctively-most likely thinking it to be the teacher-so Jiho looks down instinctively, walking straight to his desk just a few seats away from Kyung’s. He puts his backpack on the floor, slumping forward in his seat, all of his weight and arms sprawled over the desktop, mouth against his sleeve. It’s completely silent and the only sounds echoing through the room come from outside-students chatting, footsteps scurrying, teachers admonishing, friends laughing.
Jiho thinks it’s unfair-he thinks it’s completely unfair that Kyung can sit there unaffected while Jiho has to deal with his heart speeding so fast that he gets dizzy just from trying to slow it down.
I start to wonder-am I the only one like this?
He doesn’t know why he says it-part of him chalks it up to the fact that he hasn’t had lunch yet and he’s had less than twelve hours of sleep in the span of three days of exam review, while the rest of him chalks it up to the fact that he’s frustrated out of his mind and if he doesn’t just leak out this tiny bit, he’ll explode altogether soon enough anyway.
He says it while they’re lined up-while everyone is bustling around the classroom after the teacher comes in and tells them to turn in last night’s papers on the chair near the whiteboard. He says it because he’s right behind Kyung, waiting for the other boy to finish with the stapler. He says it because it’s the closest he’s been to Kyung since they stood next to each other at graduation and he’s staring right at the skin of the other boy’s neck, the strip of neck between Kyung’s dark hair and his collar and-
Is there no way else to know?
“So-you’re trying out for the team?”
Kyung spins around, almost dropping the stapler on the teacher’s laptop. He catches himself at the last minute, gripping it against his hip and staring up at Jiho. “What?”
Jiho stares back-he doesn’t know why he’s staring, just staring, because he’s the one who asked the question in the first place. But that’s all he can do, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t know why. He finds himself simply staring at Kyung’s eyes, behind large, black frames. “I-um-just-never mind,” he says, looking down and reaching for the stapler on the other side of the desk.
I write the text message and erase it again