Dirty
One
pg-13 to nc-17 // onew/minho // ~3k w
-- wherein onew and minho
take care of an egg. hs fluff.
unbeta'd.
photo credit japanlove
loosely inspired by the movie dirty girl
It's common knowledge that Choi Minho isn't a man made for boundaries.
Being in the principal's office for deciding to call his teacher a prostitute is more than enough proof. Minutes after, Minho is being released with the consequence of having to attend a class that will separate him from being around Kim Kibum and his eminent group of friends. The transition is by and largely painless since Minho sees Kibum practically every day. Change isn't so bad.
His new class schedule demands that he be in room 305 for Ethics every Monday through Wednesday. The required stamina of the flight of stairs is definitely proving to be challenge number one as Minho takes the steps two at a time, straining his pants to a minimum as he passes 304.
Right outside of the classroom, he sees a few number of heads in the section through the glass. He scrunches his nose in distaste momentarily before allowing himself entrance and passing the slip of paper he has to the teacher.
"This is Choi Minho from B1." The teacher reads. She crumples the paper in her hand and tilts her head at Minho while continuing, "He'll be joining your section from now on."
Minho nods with a sigh.
He takes the seat at the very back, the rest of the row left vacant. Perfect.
Minho drops his bag next to the arm chair, the teacher proceeding with the lecture about care and some shit while Minho stretches his neck back.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and tries to text Kibum from underneath his table.
A pen rolling towards his shoe catches his attention. Minho dubiously eyes the pen, when a hand reaches out to grab it. Minho follows the arm that it is connected to, leading all the way up to the familiar round face of a boy who if he tries hard enough, resembles this host on TV named Song Joongki, Minho ponders.
The boy grabs his pen and returns his attention to the front of the class. Minho, while still trying to place this boy and what his name is, is granted a view of the back of his head.
J… J… it starts with a J…
"Lee Jinki?"
"Yes?"
The boy stands from his seat while Minho pins a eureka to the roof of his mouth. Jinki proceeds with the answer to the apparent question handed to him, "… and if teens our age are exposed to such media…"
Minho knows him because he's, for all intents and purposes, quite a classroom name (household name equivalent, if you will). He's got medals and trophies under his belt from various contests in math, coupled with the awards from the tennis tournaments he had entered in the past. The sporty side of him, no one pays much attention to. The population of the school tends to appraise him more for his talent in the education line, you know, what with being a smart ass and all.
Lee Jinki. Pristine is practically his middle name. Maybe even his first name-- and last-- in some country of which the name of only Lee Jinki can pronounce.
For a second, Minho wonders what it would be like to live in Lee Jinki's shoes. What it would feel like to have everyone's eyes look up at you with the ever engaged light of admiration.
Minho was a name worth knowing for reasons that could not be more of the opposite nature. Where Jinki was disciplined, Minho was lenient. Minho didn't find comfort in the idea of being another face in the crowd, although he found ways to stand out on his own. And mind you those ways weren't always of the utmost approval.
Lee Jinki slinks back into his seat while the teacher echoes whatever he just said, full on agreement and nothing to deny. Pristine Lee Jinki-- who would even try to step in between him and success?
∞
"Jinki? Yeah, that guy's a fag." Kibum takes the cigarette stick from his ear and taps the butt on the table repeatedly.
Minho laughs. "No, he's not."
"And who are your sources?"
"Who are yours?"
"No comment." Kibum lights the cigarette, smoke lifting from his mouth. "It's kind of like a don't ask, don't tell thing, you know? Except, word is he's even going to therapy because his parents think it's a disorder."
"That's depressing."
"I'll say." Kibum hitches a leg to rest on the arm rest of his chair.
"So you're sure he's gay."
"Pretty sure, yeah. Why, you interested?"
Minho half shrugs. "I'm indifferent."
"Please," Kibum snorts. "that's almost as hilarious as the time you claimed to be bisexual."
"He's a catch."
"You're bored."
"That was reason number two."
"You're never going to get him. You know that, right?"
"Do I sense a challenge?"
"I dunno. What does your ego tell you?"
Minho sips his Coke quietly, watching the cars pass by the restaurant.
∞
Jinki finds it remarkable that while many of his classmates strain their necks to keep their porn hidden, he is being openly presented with it for therapy.
"And how does this make you feel?" Asks the dreary voice of his $ 3,000.00 per session psychologist.
Jinki is being shown slide after slide of nude women from portraits painted in what seems like centuries ago. Just all boobs and vaginas and a plethora of womanly and manly acts that are meant to awaken the straight in him.
He was caught with a homosexual magazine once for fuck's sake. And it wasn't even his. But for the sake of his cousin, and the fact that Jinki knew that his uncle was one conniving sadist, Jinki ruined the family gathering that year and claimed the material as his. He was just that fucking nice.
He never anticipated the therapy, though. He was kind of hoping for something more tolerable in comparison. Like disownment. This is just a painful alternative when you know you're going to die anyway. Like your nails being peeled one at a time and having the raw skin dipped in citrus juice.
"I… I think this is Davinci's work, no?" Yes, Jinki is taking a piss on this whole thing on purpose because God knows he hasn't even lost his virginity yet and when that lascivious conquest takes place, he is more than certain that a vagina-- much more modern than the painted one before him-- will be on the receiving… end.
The hour that proceeds resembles a month long trek up mount I'm-not-a-fucking-homo, and when Jinki has about five minutes left, the psychologist writes on his notes while Jinki keeps himself from asking if he's sure he can't prescribe anything. At least get him drugged up before the madness, you know?
Jinki can almost tell from the gestures of the man's scribbling that he's writing about the impenetrable wall Jinki is surrounded by. Nonexistent wall for a nonexistent claim, just so we're clear.
∞
Jinki isn't the type to speak unless he's spoken to. Kind of like… a very obedient dog. Who doesn't slobber you up for treats. Because Jinki ain't no suck up.
And when class begins, Jinki wears an invisible target that keeps him forever on his teachers' radars, so for the most part before class he likes to keep to himself while the rest of the world turns.
The door knob rams onto the wall, causing the stir of conversation in the room to filter to a brief silence before rising back up upon the realization that it was just another student who entered.
Jinki hangs his head back to work at the kinks, when a bag hits his chair followed by another occupant of the seat next to him which he believed (in every class he is in) to be unendingly empty.
When Jinki focuses his gaze on the person next to him, he finds himself staring into the friendly grin of one Choi Minho.
Choi Minho, as far as Jinki knows, is the type of guy you should resist the urge to befriend no matter how charming he is or can be. Basically, bad news doesn't even cut it when describing a boy who can smile like that at anyone. And he's like, really fucking tall.
Tall people scare Jinki.
"Hey." Minho perches his legs over his arm chair and offers an outstretched hand. Jinki isn't sure whether to slap it or stare at it for longer. Quizzically, he opts for the second choice. Minho takes it as a sign to retreat his hand and go, "You're Lee Jinki."
"And you're Choi Minho."
The other boy is pleased with the attention. He languidly stirs strands of his hair away from his eyes, leaving his hair even more disheveled from when he probably smothered it with his pillow and hair gel earlier. "How come I don't see you around physics?"
"What?"
"During physics, I mean. Fifth period? You're always gone." Not that it takes special observation skills to notice Jinki's absence in a matter of days, but Jinki finds himself slightly impressed. And… appreciative because the boy took notice. He just never thought anyone cared.
But Jinki doubts that this can be anything more than required small talk so he stirs the conversation away from him possibly answering anything that involves his therapy sessions in order to fix his supposed gayness. "I already took it." He lies.
"Of course." When the boy smiles, Jinki notices how it doesn't shrink his eyes at all. Unlike how Jinki's eyes disappear whenever he does. He hates it when his eyes do that. "That subject is a bitch, man. Maybe you can help me out with some notes?"
Jinki's brows furrow. "Maybe just pay attention in class more. That also helps." It's not that he drives people away from him intentionally. It's just that Jinki isn't a guy of many words. He doesn't beat around the bush, doesn't waver from his honesty, and he doesn't spare anyone's feelings.
The teacher enters right on cue. Jinki doesn't know if Minho had a retort in mind but for such occasions, he would probably have to save it for later. Or never.
Depending on whether he would ever talk to Jinki again.
∞
Of the many times that Minho tried to initiate some sort of conversation with Jinki, he finds it hilarious how the other male is incessantly astonished at the attempts.
There were even times when they would pass by each other outside of the classroom, Minho would paste a smile on his face coupled with a head nod of uncontaminated acknowledgement while Jinki would bore holes into his shoes with his stare.
Minho thinks that it's probably just a matter of time before Jinki talks to Minho about these series of hey-let's-be-friends accounts and tells him to stop. A week passes by without any concerns sent his way from Jinki, which offers Minho a chance to just be his forthcoming self over and over. Besides, he doesn't see anything wrong with trying to connect threads with a school mate.
"Did you catch the game last night?" Minho asks as Jinki chews on the butt of his pen. His stare flickers from the board where their teacher is doing a good job of putting everyone to sleep as she speaks about things that will never help Minho come the time of the apocalypse.
Jinki, with his eyes directed at his notes, scribbles something while shaking his head.
"Not even gonna ask which game I meant, huh." Minho scoots his chair closer to Jinki's to whisper. The feet of the chair scrape against the floor, causing the lecture to halt abruptly. Minho stares back innocently at the stern gaze of his teacher while Jinki flushes in his seat, opting to hide his face by keeping his focus on his notebook. "There was no game last night, by the way."
Jinki doesn't respond this time.
Minho constantly and resolutely mistakes people's stillness as a sign to go on. So Minho asks more nonsensical questions in a hushed tone, the kind of questions that are only amusing to him. Jinki's foot begins to tap as an unspoken warning a minute in, but it doesn't hinder Minho from continuing.
"Listen, I'm tryna--" Jinki points at his notes with his pen.
"Right, yeah. Sorry." Minho leans away, stretching his arms out, one of which accidentally brushes with Jinki's back when it rests on the backrest of his arm chair.
∞
The truth is that this is Ethics and it doesn't take Doogie motherfucking Howser to figure out that all you have to do is follow the rules without the ever alluring act of bending slash breaking them.
In class, for instance, you have to listen as intently as possible, not only for the purpose of etiquette but for the good of mankind… and this shit might pop up in the finals which is in a month and a half.
Strictly speaking, Minho isn't making things easy for either of them when he does the things that he does. His breath smells like Coke and cigarettes when he whispers and he can't shut up for the life of him and Jinki, no matter how hard he tries, cannot block the guy's voice out. Minho's voice is nauseatingly low and thick like molasses or Elmer's glue and it claws at Jinki's concentration, which makes it just that much trickier to channel out.
When he tells Minho to shut up in his own way, he realizes that he doesn't know what his teacher is babbling about now. It doesn't hit him until she says, "Pick a partner," that he might be on the verge of something worrisome.
Naturally, everyone pairs up while Jinki rolls his pen in his hands, waiting for the last of the herd to be chosen so that he can claim his.
"Those without a partner still, please stand up."
Jinki exhales, straightening up while tucking his shirt down. Then he elbows Minho next to him. He apologizes, looks front-- wait, what? Minho's standing up. Like, he's the only one standing up apart from Jinki. Which can only mean--
"Oh, perfect." The teacher delightfully claps her hands together once, the sound resonating into Jinki's ears as he stares at Minho's somewhat pleased smile.
∞
As if being Minho's partner isn't weird enough, now Jinki is staring at a white shelled egg, lying on top of both his and Minho's arm chair tables pushed together.
"… the egg will be your baby." Is all Jinki catches as he's too immersed in his own thoughts to really take the time to focus on anything else.
Then notebooks are being passed around from one pair to the next.
"These," The teacher goes on, "will be your babies' journals. You, as the parent, will write in the journal as your baby and how you perceive their inner thoughts to be. The journal will be read out loud by the end of the term and will serve as your finals."
Of course this is the final. Jinki goes to a school that strives to be not only progressive but modern and in with the times so of course they would try something like this. How quaint. Just, seriously, fuck life. Also, babies are illiterate, so what the fuck is she talking about, a fucking journal, fucking fuckery fuck.
"Have you thought of a name?" Minho is carrying the egg in his hands like it's some precious relic. Jinki gathers his things in a rush, stuffing what he can into his bag as he leaves his chair.
"Uhm."
"I was thinking Momo. Coz I had this dog--"
"Yeah, okay, whatever," Jinki nods. "I have to run to my next class coz it's in the fifth floor."
"Oh… okay. I have a ten minute break so I guess I can take Momo with me."
"You do that." Jinki shrugs into the straps of his bag then makes a beeline for the door.
∞
The next class that Minho and Jinki have together is supposedly Physics, but Jinki never shows up. So, Minho opts to skip the class in favor of taking Momo to meet Kibum.
Kibum makes a swift joke about taking things slow with Jinki before uncapping a Sharpee with his mouth and drawing a pair of eyes on the surface of the egg.
When Minho attempts to snag Momo away, Kibum is quick to duck and argue, "Do you want a blind baby? Do you?"
Minho can't say much after that.
∞
Jinki doesn't even crack a smile the next day he finds googly eyes smartly drawn on Momo. He just takes the egg in his hands and thanks Minho for keeping it in one piece for the night.
"So, I was thinking." Minho invites himself to walk with Jinki to his next class, footwork leaving him a few inches behind. And Jinki just walks really fast. "We can meet up at my place later."
"Why?" Jinki, Minho observes with quiet aversion, places Momo in his suffocating jacket pocket.
"To discuss the details of our baby."
"What?" When Jinki looks back for a second to raise a brow at Minho, he jogs to catch up with Jinki's pace so they're walking side by side.
"You know, to build up her personality. Likes, dislikes-- that kind of thing."
"Momo's a girl?" Jinki asks in a sort of non-caring way.
"My dog was a girl." Minho says.
"What kind of a name is Momo?"
Minho chuckles a bit as he says, "I told you, that was my dog's name--"
"Oh, right, yeah." Jinki halts when they reach the fifth floor. "I have class."
"I know, I know. I'll see you at my house then." Minho pulls out his phone and reaches it to Jinki who just eyes it with distrust. "You can give me your number so I can text you the directions since we won't be seeing each other later."
"Oh." Jinki scratches his neck. "Or we could just pan out a schedule."
"What do you mean?"
"We split the week. You get her Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays then the rest of the week I get her, including weekends."
Minho dumbly blinks at Jinki. "Did you grow up in a broken home?"
"What?" Jinki is clearly taken aback by the question. He shakes his head. "No."
"I did." Minho shrugs one shoulder to shove his bag higher up. "I don't think Momo would appreciate it."
For the first time, it actually seems like Jinki is about to laugh, but only just. He recovers with a squint. "It's an egg."
Minho frowns outwardly, feigning disgust. "Lee Jinki!" The vibrato of his voice ricochets off the walls, the students walking past now giving them dubious looks. Jinki's cheeks tint pink at the sudden burst of volume. He pushes Minho into the nearest bathroom he can find.
"How dare you talk about our daughter like that?!" Minho has to admit, that flustered, off guard demeanor Jinki is putting on right now is puppy-level cute.
Jinki doesn't find anything rewarding about the situation they are in, though. He talks with his hands, "Will you turn it down?"
"I'm sorry!" Minho bulges his eyeballs out, all creepy-like. "But you're being more than insensitive right now. It's getting me upset."
Minho knows that this is probably him marking himself as the wife of the relationship, but he's much too immersed in the panic he sees in Jinki's face to really care.
"Okay, fine, give me your phone."
Jinki punches his number in with Minho hovering about, whispering offhandedly, "Is that your real number?"
He doesn't expect Jinki to scowl and say, "Of course it is," in return, though, so that was just gold.
Minho honest to God curtsies before making his exit, finally understanding why women always fake a pregnancy as a last resort to save a dying relationship.
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pg-13 to nc-17 // onew/minho // ~3k w
-- wherein onew and minho
take care of an egg. hs fluff.
unbeta'd.
photo credit japanlove
loosely inspired by the movie dirty girl
It's common knowledge that Choi Minho isn't a man made for boundaries.
Being in the principal's office for deciding to call his teacher a prostitute is more than enough proof. Minutes after, Minho is being released with the consequence of having to attend a class that will separate him from being around Kim Kibum and his eminent group of friends. The transition is by and largely painless since Minho sees Kibum practically every day. Change isn't so bad.
His new class schedule demands that he be in room 305 for Ethics every Monday through Wednesday. The required stamina of the flight of stairs is definitely proving to be challenge number one as Minho takes the steps two at a time, straining his pants to a minimum as he passes 304.
Right outside of the classroom, he sees a few number of heads in the section through the glass. He scrunches his nose in distaste momentarily before allowing himself entrance and passing the slip of paper he has to the teacher.
"This is Choi Minho from B1." The teacher reads. She crumples the paper in her hand and tilts her head at Minho while continuing, "He'll be joining your section from now on."
Minho nods with a sigh.
He takes the seat at the very back, the rest of the row left vacant. Perfect.
Minho drops his bag next to the arm chair, the teacher proceeding with the lecture about care and some shit while Minho stretches his neck back.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and tries to text Kibum from underneath his table.
A pen rolling towards his shoe catches his attention. Minho dubiously eyes the pen, when a hand reaches out to grab it. Minho follows the arm that it is connected to, leading all the way up to the familiar round face of a boy who if he tries hard enough, resembles this host on TV named Song Joongki, Minho ponders.
The boy grabs his pen and returns his attention to the front of the class. Minho, while still trying to place this boy and what his name is, is granted a view of the back of his head.
J… J… it starts with a J…
"Lee Jinki?"
"Yes?"
The boy stands from his seat while Minho pins a eureka to the roof of his mouth. Jinki proceeds with the answer to the apparent question handed to him, "… and if teens our age are exposed to such media…"
Minho knows him because he's, for all intents and purposes, quite a classroom name (household name equivalent, if you will). He's got medals and trophies under his belt from various contests in math, coupled with the awards from the tennis tournaments he had entered in the past. The sporty side of him, no one pays much attention to. The population of the school tends to appraise him more for his talent in the education line, you know, what with being a smart ass and all.
Lee Jinki. Pristine is practically his middle name. Maybe even his first name-- and last-- in some country of which the name of only Lee Jinki can pronounce.
For a second, Minho wonders what it would be like to live in Lee Jinki's shoes. What it would feel like to have everyone's eyes look up at you with the ever engaged light of admiration.
Minho was a name worth knowing for reasons that could not be more of the opposite nature. Where Jinki was disciplined, Minho was lenient. Minho didn't find comfort in the idea of being another face in the crowd, although he found ways to stand out on his own. And mind you those ways weren't always of the utmost approval.
Lee Jinki slinks back into his seat while the teacher echoes whatever he just said, full on agreement and nothing to deny. Pristine Lee Jinki-- who would even try to step in between him and success?
∞
"Jinki? Yeah, that guy's a fag." Kibum takes the cigarette stick from his ear and taps the butt on the table repeatedly.
Minho laughs. "No, he's not."
"And who are your sources?"
"Who are yours?"
"No comment." Kibum lights the cigarette, smoke lifting from his mouth. "It's kind of like a don't ask, don't tell thing, you know? Except, word is he's even going to therapy because his parents think it's a disorder."
"That's depressing."
"I'll say." Kibum hitches a leg to rest on the arm rest of his chair.
"So you're sure he's gay."
"Pretty sure, yeah. Why, you interested?"
Minho half shrugs. "I'm indifferent."
"Please," Kibum snorts. "that's almost as hilarious as the time you claimed to be bisexual."
"He's a catch."
"You're bored."
"That was reason number two."
"You're never going to get him. You know that, right?"
"Do I sense a challenge?"
"I dunno. What does your ego tell you?"
Minho sips his Coke quietly, watching the cars pass by the restaurant.
∞
Jinki finds it remarkable that while many of his classmates strain their necks to keep their porn hidden, he is being openly presented with it for therapy.
"And how does this make you feel?" Asks the dreary voice of his $ 3,000.00 per session psychologist.
Jinki is being shown slide after slide of nude women from portraits painted in what seems like centuries ago. Just all boobs and vaginas and a plethora of womanly and manly acts that are meant to awaken the straight in him.
He was caught with a homosexual magazine once for fuck's sake. And it wasn't even his. But for the sake of his cousin, and the fact that Jinki knew that his uncle was one conniving sadist, Jinki ruined the family gathering that year and claimed the material as his. He was just that fucking nice.
He never anticipated the therapy, though. He was kind of hoping for something more tolerable in comparison. Like disownment. This is just a painful alternative when you know you're going to die anyway. Like your nails being peeled one at a time and having the raw skin dipped in citrus juice.
"I… I think this is Davinci's work, no?" Yes, Jinki is taking a piss on this whole thing on purpose because God knows he hasn't even lost his virginity yet and when that lascivious conquest takes place, he is more than certain that a vagina-- much more modern than the painted one before him-- will be on the receiving… end.
The hour that proceeds resembles a month long trek up mount I'm-not-a-fucking-homo, and when Jinki has about five minutes left, the psychologist writes on his notes while Jinki keeps himself from asking if he's sure he can't prescribe anything. At least get him drugged up before the madness, you know?
Jinki can almost tell from the gestures of the man's scribbling that he's writing about the impenetrable wall Jinki is surrounded by. Nonexistent wall for a nonexistent claim, just so we're clear.
∞
Jinki isn't the type to speak unless he's spoken to. Kind of like… a very obedient dog. Who doesn't slobber you up for treats. Because Jinki ain't no suck up.
And when class begins, Jinki wears an invisible target that keeps him forever on his teachers' radars, so for the most part before class he likes to keep to himself while the rest of the world turns.
The door knob rams onto the wall, causing the stir of conversation in the room to filter to a brief silence before rising back up upon the realization that it was just another student who entered.
Jinki hangs his head back to work at the kinks, when a bag hits his chair followed by another occupant of the seat next to him which he believed (in every class he is in) to be unendingly empty.
When Jinki focuses his gaze on the person next to him, he finds himself staring into the friendly grin of one Choi Minho.
Choi Minho, as far as Jinki knows, is the type of guy you should resist the urge to befriend no matter how charming he is or can be. Basically, bad news doesn't even cut it when describing a boy who can smile like that at anyone. And he's like, really fucking tall.
Tall people scare Jinki.
"Hey." Minho perches his legs over his arm chair and offers an outstretched hand. Jinki isn't sure whether to slap it or stare at it for longer. Quizzically, he opts for the second choice. Minho takes it as a sign to retreat his hand and go, "You're Lee Jinki."
"And you're Choi Minho."
The other boy is pleased with the attention. He languidly stirs strands of his hair away from his eyes, leaving his hair even more disheveled from when he probably smothered it with his pillow and hair gel earlier. "How come I don't see you around physics?"
"What?"
"During physics, I mean. Fifth period? You're always gone." Not that it takes special observation skills to notice Jinki's absence in a matter of days, but Jinki finds himself slightly impressed. And… appreciative because the boy took notice. He just never thought anyone cared.
But Jinki doubts that this can be anything more than required small talk so he stirs the conversation away from him possibly answering anything that involves his therapy sessions in order to fix his supposed gayness. "I already took it." He lies.
"Of course." When the boy smiles, Jinki notices how it doesn't shrink his eyes at all. Unlike how Jinki's eyes disappear whenever he does. He hates it when his eyes do that. "That subject is a bitch, man. Maybe you can help me out with some notes?"
Jinki's brows furrow. "Maybe just pay attention in class more. That also helps." It's not that he drives people away from him intentionally. It's just that Jinki isn't a guy of many words. He doesn't beat around the bush, doesn't waver from his honesty, and he doesn't spare anyone's feelings.
The teacher enters right on cue. Jinki doesn't know if Minho had a retort in mind but for such occasions, he would probably have to save it for later. Or never.
Depending on whether he would ever talk to Jinki again.
∞
Of the many times that Minho tried to initiate some sort of conversation with Jinki, he finds it hilarious how the other male is incessantly astonished at the attempts.
There were even times when they would pass by each other outside of the classroom, Minho would paste a smile on his face coupled with a head nod of uncontaminated acknowledgement while Jinki would bore holes into his shoes with his stare.
Minho thinks that it's probably just a matter of time before Jinki talks to Minho about these series of hey-let's-be-friends accounts and tells him to stop. A week passes by without any concerns sent his way from Jinki, which offers Minho a chance to just be his forthcoming self over and over. Besides, he doesn't see anything wrong with trying to connect threads with a school mate.
"Did you catch the game last night?" Minho asks as Jinki chews on the butt of his pen. His stare flickers from the board where their teacher is doing a good job of putting everyone to sleep as she speaks about things that will never help Minho come the time of the apocalypse.
Jinki, with his eyes directed at his notes, scribbles something while shaking his head.
"Not even gonna ask which game I meant, huh." Minho scoots his chair closer to Jinki's to whisper. The feet of the chair scrape against the floor, causing the lecture to halt abruptly. Minho stares back innocently at the stern gaze of his teacher while Jinki flushes in his seat, opting to hide his face by keeping his focus on his notebook. "There was no game last night, by the way."
Jinki doesn't respond this time.
Minho constantly and resolutely mistakes people's stillness as a sign to go on. So Minho asks more nonsensical questions in a hushed tone, the kind of questions that are only amusing to him. Jinki's foot begins to tap as an unspoken warning a minute in, but it doesn't hinder Minho from continuing.
"Listen, I'm tryna--" Jinki points at his notes with his pen.
"Right, yeah. Sorry." Minho leans away, stretching his arms out, one of which accidentally brushes with Jinki's back when it rests on the backrest of his arm chair.
∞
The truth is that this is Ethics and it doesn't take Doogie motherfucking Howser to figure out that all you have to do is follow the rules without the ever alluring act of bending slash breaking them.
In class, for instance, you have to listen as intently as possible, not only for the purpose of etiquette but for the good of mankind… and this shit might pop up in the finals which is in a month and a half.
Strictly speaking, Minho isn't making things easy for either of them when he does the things that he does. His breath smells like Coke and cigarettes when he whispers and he can't shut up for the life of him and Jinki, no matter how hard he tries, cannot block the guy's voice out. Minho's voice is nauseatingly low and thick like molasses or Elmer's glue and it claws at Jinki's concentration, which makes it just that much trickier to channel out.
When he tells Minho to shut up in his own way, he realizes that he doesn't know what his teacher is babbling about now. It doesn't hit him until she says, "Pick a partner," that he might be on the verge of something worrisome.
Naturally, everyone pairs up while Jinki rolls his pen in his hands, waiting for the last of the herd to be chosen so that he can claim his.
"Those without a partner still, please stand up."
Jinki exhales, straightening up while tucking his shirt down. Then he elbows Minho next to him. He apologizes, looks front-- wait, what? Minho's standing up. Like, he's the only one standing up apart from Jinki. Which can only mean--
"Oh, perfect." The teacher delightfully claps her hands together once, the sound resonating into Jinki's ears as he stares at Minho's somewhat pleased smile.
∞
As if being Minho's partner isn't weird enough, now Jinki is staring at a white shelled egg, lying on top of both his and Minho's arm chair tables pushed together.
"… the egg will be your baby." Is all Jinki catches as he's too immersed in his own thoughts to really take the time to focus on anything else.
Then notebooks are being passed around from one pair to the next.
"These," The teacher goes on, "will be your babies' journals. You, as the parent, will write in the journal as your baby and how you perceive their inner thoughts to be. The journal will be read out loud by the end of the term and will serve as your finals."
Of course this is the final. Jinki goes to a school that strives to be not only progressive but modern and in with the times so of course they would try something like this. How quaint. Just, seriously, fuck life. Also, babies are illiterate, so what the fuck is she talking about, a fucking journal, fucking fuckery fuck.
"Have you thought of a name?" Minho is carrying the egg in his hands like it's some precious relic. Jinki gathers his things in a rush, stuffing what he can into his bag as he leaves his chair.
"Uhm."
"I was thinking Momo. Coz I had this dog--"
"Yeah, okay, whatever," Jinki nods. "I have to run to my next class coz it's in the fifth floor."
"Oh… okay. I have a ten minute break so I guess I can take Momo with me."
"You do that." Jinki shrugs into the straps of his bag then makes a beeline for the door.
∞
The next class that Minho and Jinki have together is supposedly Physics, but Jinki never shows up. So, Minho opts to skip the class in favor of taking Momo to meet Kibum.
Kibum makes a swift joke about taking things slow with Jinki before uncapping a Sharpee with his mouth and drawing a pair of eyes on the surface of the egg.
When Minho attempts to snag Momo away, Kibum is quick to duck and argue, "Do you want a blind baby? Do you?"
Minho can't say much after that.
∞
Jinki doesn't even crack a smile the next day he finds googly eyes smartly drawn on Momo. He just takes the egg in his hands and thanks Minho for keeping it in one piece for the night.
"So, I was thinking." Minho invites himself to walk with Jinki to his next class, footwork leaving him a few inches behind. And Jinki just walks really fast. "We can meet up at my place later."
"Why?" Jinki, Minho observes with quiet aversion, places Momo in his suffocating jacket pocket.
"To discuss the details of our baby."
"What?" When Jinki looks back for a second to raise a brow at Minho, he jogs to catch up with Jinki's pace so they're walking side by side.
"You know, to build up her personality. Likes, dislikes-- that kind of thing."
"Momo's a girl?" Jinki asks in a sort of non-caring way.
"My dog was a girl." Minho says.
"What kind of a name is Momo?"
Minho chuckles a bit as he says, "I told you, that was my dog's name--"
"Oh, right, yeah." Jinki halts when they reach the fifth floor. "I have class."
"I know, I know. I'll see you at my house then." Minho pulls out his phone and reaches it to Jinki who just eyes it with distrust. "You can give me your number so I can text you the directions since we won't be seeing each other later."
"Oh." Jinki scratches his neck. "Or we could just pan out a schedule."
"What do you mean?"
"We split the week. You get her Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays then the rest of the week I get her, including weekends."
Minho dumbly blinks at Jinki. "Did you grow up in a broken home?"
"What?" Jinki is clearly taken aback by the question. He shakes his head. "No."
"I did." Minho shrugs one shoulder to shove his bag higher up. "I don't think Momo would appreciate it."
For the first time, it actually seems like Jinki is about to laugh, but only just. He recovers with a squint. "It's an egg."
Minho frowns outwardly, feigning disgust. "Lee Jinki!" The vibrato of his voice ricochets off the walls, the students walking past now giving them dubious looks. Jinki's cheeks tint pink at the sudden burst of volume. He pushes Minho into the nearest bathroom he can find.
"How dare you talk about our daughter like that?!" Minho has to admit, that flustered, off guard demeanor Jinki is putting on right now is puppy-level cute.
Jinki doesn't find anything rewarding about the situation they are in, though. He talks with his hands, "Will you turn it down?"
"I'm sorry!" Minho bulges his eyeballs out, all creepy-like. "But you're being more than insensitive right now. It's getting me upset."
Minho knows that this is probably him marking himself as the wife of the relationship, but he's much too immersed in the panic he sees in Jinki's face to really care.
"Okay, fine, give me your phone."
Jinki punches his number in with Minho hovering about, whispering offhandedly, "Is that your real number?"
He doesn't expect Jinki to scowl and say, "Of course it is," in return, though, so that was just gold.
Minho honest to God curtsies before making his exit, finally understanding why women always fake a pregnancy as a last resort to save a dying relationship.
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