Holly Roots
Title: Holly Roots
Pairing: Kris/Chen
Rating: NC-17
Summary: After suffering a debilitating injury, Kris is at a pretty low point in his life. He wants to feel alive again. He finds that spark... and its name is Kim Jongdae.
Word Count: 14.7k
notes: i'm slowly finishing wip's that i've literally had since 2013 lmao this is one of them. if you understand the flower references, c'mere, lemme give u a kiss
holly roots;
Ten years ago, if you told Kris that he’d be back in the high school that he graduated from as a staff member, he would have laughed in your face. Not that he hated his school, not at all; he just always thought he was going to become a great basketball star, travel the world, join the NBA. He’d had a girlfriend that he was sure he was going to marry and was on full ride to university with a basketball scholarship.
Five years ago, Kris’ dreams were brought to a screeching halt when he was in a head-on collision. He’d miraculously survived-- but not without cost. Multiple broken bones, hip replacement surgery to restore the shattered part of his pelvis; the doctors weren’t sure if he was going to be able to walk ever again.
His high school sweetheart left him.
The university dropped him.
His family turned their backs.
Living off of disability and a newfound determination, Kris’ physical therapy appointments were five times a week, and he was doing self rehabilitation in his own home. When his father passed he’d gotten the inheritance as only child, and shortly after, when his mother died of loneliness, Kris was given the estate. It wasn’t Beverly Hills, but in a quiet community with a house to himself and some acreage, he figured he’d lucked out.
A year of physical therapy had him up and walking with the use of a cane. The sleek, metal cane was topped with a globe that mirrored the full moon in a dark, cloudy sky, and became a part of him as much as his own seventy-five percent functional legs.
Without sports as his career, Kris had shut in, and become more of a recluse than anything. Reading, studying, online college classes. He rehabilitated himself and didn’t really see a need for friends or family or otherwise, and one day, he found himself driving to his former high school. When he looked up at the building and the students milling about it, Kris decided that maybe… he had something to give back, finally.
At twenty-nine, Kris became the school’s librarian-slash-assistant physical education teacher. Despite his setbacks, the school was ready to welcome him into their embrace and the student’s lives, and here… he was important. He was their star basketball player, their valedictorian, their charming Kris Wu that had suffered an unfortunate fate and they were ready to be there for him once more.
You know how this story goes, right?
… Nah, you probably don’t.
--
“Shut up.”
The chatter in the student library immediately dies, and dozens of eyes cast the head librarian furtive glances. Kris is sitting at the desk, organizing the Almanac and putting it on a cart to be wheeled back to its section. He didn’t even look up as his voice spoke much louder than what could be considered normal -- considering he hadn’t even been yelling. His voice is commanding and authoritative and the library had gotten a bit too loud, and it’s his job to make sure peace and order is restored.
The students go back to work, although much quieter than before.
Kris pinches the bridge of his nose, taking his glasses off and setting them on the desk. He glances at his cane, resting against the corner of the polished oak, and reaches out to run his fingers over the cool metal. It’s nine a.m. and after first period is home room block, where students are given time to study and catch up for their next classes. It’s always fairly full in the library, and even though the kids get rowdy sometimes, he enjoys the warm, cozy feeling of all the bodies packed into the area, the sound of pages turning and pencils scratching over paper.
“Excuse me…?”
Kris glances up, sitting up straighter in his rolly chair. There’s a young girl standing in front of his desk and Kris offers a small smile, recognizing her as the student council president.
“Hi, Joonmyun,” he greets.
She smiles shyly, setting the book she’s holding down on the desk. “I’d like to check this out, please, Mr. Wu.”
He scowls a bit playfully, putting his glasses back on his face and wiggling the mouse of his computer to wake up his monitor. “You can call me Kris, Joonmyun, like everyone else. Mr. Wu is my dad.”
Joonmyun giggles, and nods, biting her lower lip and opening the book up so Kris can get the numbers off of it. He presses the stamp into the inkwell and then presses it carefully to the index card that already has Joonmyun’s name on it -- she’s the only student that’s checked this book out repeatedly since school started two months ago. He blows on the ink to dry it a little, and then keys the numbers into the computer and then slides the book back over to her side of the desk.
“There you go,” he says. He glances up at her as she closes the cover of the book carefully, and then lifts the flap of her satchel to try to fit it in. “You know, I could lift the fifteen day checkout for you. You check out that book so often…” he lifts a hand to his mouth to whisper, “and you’re the only one.” He smiles, leaning back in his chair. “Why don’t you just hold on to it until you’re done?”
Joonmyun splutters a little, her soft cheeks tinting pink, and her fingers fumble with her book bag a few times before she gets the book securely in. “Really?”
“Sure,” Kris nods, then grabs his cane and rests some of his support on it to help himself stand up from his seat. “If someone else needs it, I’ll let you know, but for now it looks like you and that book are exclusive.” he smiles, and makes his way over to the cart. A blessing and a curse, this wheeled contraption; he can rest his weight on it and walk without the aid of his cane, but the cart can get fairly heavy sometimes.
“Um-- Mr-- I mean, Kris--?”
Both of Kris’ hands are on the handle of the full cart, and he turns his attention back to Joonmyun. She’s fidgeting, looking at the ground and tucking her hair behind her ear nervously, then twirling her finger down to the ends, and then restarting the process.
“Yes?” he asks, a bit unsurely.
Joonmyun looks up, and he sees it in her eyes. Ohh, dear. After two years and seven confessions from starstruck girls, Kris can tell when a girl is going to blurt out her heart and let it flop around on the floor a few times before he has to, very gently (yet firmly) step on it. She opens her mouth, and he opens his to cut her off, but then--
“Hey.”
Kris glances over to the desk, where a student he’s never seen before is holding up a book. Joonmyun looks surprised too, and a bit suspicious. The kid is barely seventeen, with tousled hair and eyes that scream mischief, and Kris frowns a little. Joonmyun, thankfully, sees that now isn’t the time, but Kris knows she’ll be back again and that really the inevitable has just been delayed.
Joonmyun smiles at Kris, eyes the student, and then leaves the library.
The kid watches her go, then whistles under his breath a bit as he sets the book on the counter. “That was close.” His gaze lifts to Kris’, and Kris sees life sparkling in his eyes. “You’re welcome.”
Kris snorts, grabbing his cane and moving back to his seat, sitting down a bit heavily. Leaning his cane against the desk, he wakes up his computer again, sliding the book closer to himself. A glance down the index card reads KIM JONGDAE, and Kris knows he’s never seen that name before. Then again, it’s only November… still fairly early in the school year. The kid could be a transfer.
“I never said thank you,” is Kris’ slightly terse reply as he keys in the book numbers, and then stamps next to Jongdae’s name. He closes the book, handing it back.
“One day you will,” Jongdae says, taking the book and wiggling it in adieu, both of his brows raising playfully before he slinks off towards his seat in the back of the library.
Kris arches a brow, then drums his fingers on his desk contemplatively.
Hm.
--
Kris is walking (not hobbling, he tells himself, even with the aid of his cane attached to his left hand) around the library, swiffer duster in his free hand. He can reach the top shelves fine enough, but the bottom rows of books are giving him a bit of trouble. For now, he’s making his laps one shelf at a time, going from top to bottom. It’s taken him the better part of the day, especially being interrupted every now and again to check out books, but he doesn’t mind. He tells faculty that he dusts once a week because the school should be kept clean, but in reality the dust is a bitch to his allergies and as much as he snorts up that flonaise his allergies won’t rest unless he keeps a tidy space.
Being outside during the last period of the day with the P.E. class doesn’t help either but Kris doesn’t want everyone knowing he’s no better than the basement nerds that play dungeons and dragons during lunch period.
After five laps, Kris is at the bottom shelves. He heaves a sigh and looks around the library, and then down at his cane. This is always an obstacle; he can’t bend normally, and he doesn’t have the right flexibility in his lower body to reach down and dust in all the nooks and crannies. He stares at the duster in his hand, which is nearly black with all the dust he’s collected (he makes a mental note to stop cracking the windows in the morning), and sighs softly.
“Need some help?”
Once again, Kris is taken out of his thoughts and worries by a cheeky voice. He turns around to see Kim Jongdae leaning against a table, arms folded over his chest and a small smirk on his lips.
Kris glances at the clock, “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
Jongdae shrugs, “I’ve been studying.” His head tilts, and Kris can see the lingering traces of a black eye.
The librarian doesn’t press. He shakes his head, leaning on his cane as he takes a step forward, clearly intent on getting down and dusting himself.
Jongdae is at his elbow before Kris realizes. He takes the duster from Kris’ hands and dances away, out of Kris’ reach, and then brandishes the duster. “I can take it from here. Why don’t you go do some librarian things? Like organize the card catalog or something.”
“Everything’s on computers now,” Kris says, like Jongdae should know. He patiently holds his hand out, “Get to class, Jongdae.”
The boy rolls his eyes, and then gets down on the ground right where Kris was going to start dusting. “No, you go sit. I’ll do this. I’m done with my book.”
“So get to class,” Kris says, trying his best not to grit his teeth.
Jongdae just starts dusting and ignoring Kris’ presence altogether. The librarian stands there for about five minutes, but when Jongdae shows no signs of stopping (and is actually doing a fairly decent job of dusting), Kris relents. He makes his way back to his desk and sits down, warily watching Jongdae.
What a weird kid.
When Jongdae finishes thirty minutes later, he tosses the dirty swiffer into the trash and leaves the handle on the edge of Kris’ desk. He grabs the book from the table he’d supposedly been sitting at (how did Kris not notice?), and tucks it into his bag, before offering a kittenish smile and a wave to Kris before he leaves the library, the doors swinging shut behind him.
Kris frowns just as the bell rings.
--
It’s Spring time and Kris is standing on the side of the track, most of his weight on his right leg, cane tucked into his armpit as he claps and hollers into his cupped hands. It’s the mile run for physical education and Kris wishes so much he could be running alongside the kids, cheering them on and encouraging even the chubby kid in last place to finish.
But he doesn’t have to, when Park Chanyeol is the head P.E. coach.
Chanyeol is a burst of energy and way more positive than Kris could ever dream of being. Kris has seen Chanyeol pep talk confidence into the most unsure of kids, and right now Chanyeol is jogging a little bit ahead of a group of stragglers, calling military chants out for them to repeat. Although, Kris hears him modifying a few phrases for things like “then we’ll get a cheeseburger!” or “I can wear a new dress!”. It’s actually pretty ridiculous, and Kris feels a little useless on the sidelines, but he’s also manning the stopwatch and telling the kids their times as they pass the finish line.
As the last kids cross over Chanyeol moves to the back of the crowd, sweating but barely out of breath. He’s blowing his whistle and yelling encouraging words and the kids all look like they’re trying to finish the run so they can get away from him, rather than actually caring about their times. Kris rolls his eyes when Chanyeol finishes, beaming and wiping the sweat from his brow.
“That was great!” he crows, clapping a few times and waving a fist in the air. “Next year you guys will be even faster!”
All the students groan.
“Go wash up, I’ll let you guys out early for doing such a good job!”
All the students cheer and promptly disappear to the locker rooms.
Kris finishes writing the student’s times on the paper attached to his clipboard, and then tucks the pencil behind his ear, dropping his cane down so he can start slowly walking back up to the gym with Chanyeol.
“Aren’t they great?” Chanyeol asks rhetorically. Chanyeol thinks everyone is great.
“Yes,” Kris replies dryly.
Chanyeol wraps an arm around Kris’ shoulders and almost upsets his balance. “Next week is basketball. You’re gonna be head coach! I’ll take the back seat.”
Kris tries not to panic. “Um-- that’s not-- you don’t have to do that, I can be assistant, Chanyeol.”
“Nahhhh,” Chanyeol wrinkles his nose and makes a rather ugly face. “They all want you to be their coach. They like you better than me! Plus, you’re the basketball star. I suck.”
Kris’s gut falls and he pulls out of Chanyeol’s grip, clenching his jaw as he does his best to stalk forward, the butt of his cane digging into the grass as they near the entrance of the gym. “I was the basketball star.”
“Shit--”
Kris doesn’t need to see Chanyeol’s face to recognize the pity in his voice that’s more than likely mirrored in his eyes. He doesn’t want the pity. Doesn’t need the pity.
“Kris, wait--”
“You’re the head coach, Chanyeol,” Kris says, slamming the door of the school open, his cane knocking noisily against the aluminum frame.
Chanyeol doesn’t say anything more as Kris stalks through the empty gymnasium, the tinny sound of his cane hitting the wood floor on every left step echoing loudly.
--
Five days out of the week, Kris is at the school. Before school, to open up the library early for the crammers trying to fit as much knowledge into their head before a test; and after school, for the kids staying late for study sessions and tutor groups. On the weekends Kris keeps busy at his house, but nothing quite… fulfills him, anymore, like being at the school. Sure, there are days when he wakes up and doesn’t want to get out of bed -- when his hip is aching and foretelling of impending rain, or when he’s been jolted awake, nightmares of the car crash still fresh in his head.
Kris doesn’t think he’s any sort of strong, but he’ll never think he’s any kind of weak, either.
So he gets up, every day, and goes about his business.
He’s starting to lose focus on what he’s living for.
--
It doesn’t take long for Kris to notice something… off, about Kim Jongdae.
None of the other students ever really take notice of Jongdae, or talk to him. When Kris engages in conversation (rarely) with him, the other students cast him curious glances, and then go back to their work.
Joonmyun is particularly vicious about the fact that Jongdae is different.
“Mr. Wu--”
“Kris.”
“--he doesn’t…” Joonmyun trails off, her cute little nose scrunching in her distaste. Kris pays her no mind, straightening some books out on his desk that need to be entered into the database as checked in. “Kris.” Joonmyun whines, and Kris finally glances up. She’s sending cautious glances towards where Jongdae’s sitting, but he’s in his own little world, writing what looks to be a ten page essay. “He doesn’t attend this school,” Joonmyun finally whispers, her long hair falling over her shoulders as she leans over Kris’ desk.
Kris pays attention. Both of his brows raise, and he stares up at her. “What?”
One of her hands rests on the desk as she leans even closer, the other hand cupping her mouth so she can whisper. “I know every single student in this school, and I checked the roster the other day. There’s no Kim Jongdae at this school.”
Kris’ gaze wanders over to Jongdae. If he doesn’t attend this school, why is he here? Practically every day, at around the same time, Jongdae is parked at the same table, in the same chair, with some book propped open as he does homework. Or, what Kris assumes is homework. He looks back up at Joonmyun, speaking quietly. “You’re sure?” Why would a kid just be in a school library if he had no legitimate reason to be?
Joonmyun nods, then folds her arms over her chest. “I’m going to the Principal today to tell her.”
“No--” Kris shakes his head, and Joonmyun is surprised at his interjection. He clears his throat, offers a small smile, “Let me talk to him. He hasn’t been bothering anybody.” For some reason, the thought of the Principal finding out and possibly kicking Jongdae out of the school… doesn’t sit well with him.
Normally a patient girl, Joonmyun looks a bit frazzled, her brows knitting as she glares down at Kris. “But he doesn’t go here. This library is for student use only, not the public.”
“Quit being such a stickler, Joonmyun,” Kris says, grabbing his cane and bracing himself on it as he stands up. “Get to class. And don’t talk to the Principal, I’ll handle this myself.” he says, sending the girl a pointed look.
She doesn’t look pleased, but she does deflate, nodding her head and leaving the library to head to her next class. Kris walks (hobbles) over to Jongdae’s table and pulls out the chair opposite, slowly sitting down. The top of his cane rests against the edge of the table and he folds his hands atop the surface, staring across at Jongdae. How is he supposed to go about this? ‘Hey, you don’t attend here but you attend here, you feel me? What’s up with that?’ or even ‘Did you lose your library card?’ and maybe even ‘Are you an illegal immigrant’ are all at the tip of his tongue, but… Kris has never been too good with words in the first place.
There’s a few bruises on the younger’s neck, and Kris vaguely wonders if he has a girlfriend.
“I heard what Miss Priss said,” Jongdae says casually, flipping the page of his book. His gaze doesn’t even lift to Kris as he writes a few things down in his notebook. “She’s right. I don’t attend this school.”
“Where do you attend, then?” Kris asks, as patiently as possible. His thumb starts sliding over the back of his opposite hand, as they lay folded on the table.
“Nowhere,” Jongdae shrugs. “I dropped out last year.”
Kris’ thumb stops. He stares across the table at Jongdae in disbelief, then glances down at the books. A million and ten questions run through his head, all fighting to get out of his mouth; ‘why did you drop out?’, ‘why are you here?’, ‘what do your parents think?’. But, words.
Instead, Kris says nothing.
Jongdae finishes the line he’s writing, then glances across the table at Kris. The corner of his lip is split, and Kris’ gaze flicks to it; Jongdae twirls his pencil in his fingers, then leans back in his seat. “I work full time night shift at a fast food place. I come here to study when I can.”
“Why?” No specifics come out of Kris’ mouth, but he thinks Jongdae gets the general gist. He feels dumb, at thirty-one, talking to a teenager and feeling pangs of anxiety. What will the answers be? What’s the secret behind Jongdae’s smile?
“Dad,” Jongdae says, closing the book and sliding it aside. He stares at the cover thoughtfully for a moment, then continues, “Last year I was a sophomore when my dad decided he needed more money to support his alcohol problem. I dropped out, got a job, and here I am. In short,” he says, clearly trying to inject some humor into the scenario with a quirk of his busted lip. It hurts Kris. “I’m trying to prepare myself to just take the test to get my diploma instead of coming back to school. That way I can keep working.”
A thick silence settles over the table and if it’s stifling Kris, he knows it must be suffocating Jongdae. A few moments pass and Jongdae meets Kris’ gaze, then ducks his own, before gathering his things and standing.
“I understand, though,” the younger says as he starts putting his belongings in his backpack. “I don’t attend this school, I should go to the public library. It’s just easier to catch assignments here.”
Kris recalls the times Jongdae has socialized; never to chat, but always to ask what so-and-so’s teacher assignment was for the day, topics of essays, to borrow some notes and copy them down. And knowing that Jongdae is here because of an unfortunate circumstance…
“You may stay,” Kris says, grabbing his cane and standing.
Jongdae looks, honestly, surprised. He sets his backpack down on the table, and then slowly sits down. “...Really?”
For all the slight mischief Jongdae has caused, Kris finds that he prefers cheeky responses versus the timid inquiries he’s currently getting.
“Really,” Kris smiles, nodding. “It’ll be our secret.”
“But Joonmyun--”
Kris waves a hand, “She’ll be fine. Maybe try to be friends with her?”
Jongdae smiles small, nodding and pulling his utensils out of his bag once more. “Thank you, Kris. I… thank you.”
“Mr. Wu,” Kris emphasises with a small, warm smile, before he turns around to head back to his desk.
He doesn’t have all the details… but he’s not sure he wants, or needs them. Jongdae is a good kid and Kris would never deny a child their education.
His heart still aches… but it feels a bit fuller than before.
--
Nothing gets past Joonmyun. She notices the following week, when Jongdae is still at the round table, chewing on the eraser of his pencil as he works on an essay featuring Socrates.
“The extended learning programs teach you what you need to know to pass the diploma test,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She’s irritated, and chewing her gum rather loudly, hip rested against Kris’ desk as he starts going down the list of overdue books.
“They teach you what is on the test, and nothing more. He wants to learn what all of you are learning. That’s not illegal.” he says idly, glancing up. Joonmyun’s otherwise modest skirt is hiked up some, due to the way she’s leaning against his desk. He reaches out with his pen, poking her back with the cap. “Correct posture, please. And spit out your gum.”
Huffing, but complying, Joonmyun pulls her gum out of her mouth and tosses it into the garbage can. She reaches into her purse, pulling out some hand sanitizer, furiously working it between her fingers and palms. “If the Principal finds out--”
“--which she won’t,” Kris coolly interjects.
Joonmyun finally turns around, both hands on the desk as she stares at Kris. “Mr. Wu, you could get in serious trouble.”
He doesn’t offer a reply, doesn’t even look at her as he starts marking off the names of student’s he’s going to be sending home a letter to about book fees.
“You’ll break the rules for some drop out, but you won’t even listen to my confession?” she asks, voice incredulous.
“Those,” he finally replies, lifting his gaze to meet hers, “are two totally different things. Your girly fantasies interfere with your studies. Library time is time to study, not chat up the librarian. Jongdae rarely bothers me. I think he even dislikes talking to me.” Which isn’t far from the truth; Jongdae is thankful for Kris’ leniency, but he does seem to… shy away. “So re-evaluate your priorities, Miss Kim, and understand that I would get in more trouble for giving into your fantasies than letting a child sit peacefully in a safe area with a book.”
Still huffy, and maybe even a bit of hurt shining in her eyes, Joonmyun gathers her book bag and exits the library.
Smiling a bit to himself, Kris glances up to catch Jongdae’s eye, and he’s equally amused. He tosses Kris a peace sign, and then goes back to his work, ruffling his already messy hair and looking quite exhausted, but determined.
A little battle won… yet Kris really feels like he’s making a difference.
--
The school year is coming to a close. Students are getting cabin fever, outside between classes, during lunch, and any time they can sneak away to soak up some sunshine. Kris has all the windows and curtains open, allowing the warm breeze to ruffle through the library and revitalize the students that are studying so hard for final exams. There are a lot of seniors working on their projects, and a few lower classmen playing a card game or another on this sunny afternoon, and Kris has a top 40 radio station playing softly on the dusty old boombox he keeps on the shelf behind his desk.
It’s a peaceful day.
He hasn’t seen Jongdae in two weeks, though.
Joonmyun has relented her pursuits, both trying to woo Kris and get Jongdae in trouble, as she is also busy focusing on her senior project. She’s sitting with a few other girls, being relatively bossy as she tells them how to organize things and prepare them for presentation, and Kris smiles to himself as he grabs his cane, hefting himself up out of his rolly chair and making his way over to the large windows.
Leaning against the small window sill, the library faces the main road that the school is on, residential houses on the other side. A quaint neighborhood. Kris lives only five minutes away from school, and he likes the sound of barking dogs and playing children into the early evening as he fixes himself dinner and relaxes on his patio furniture.
Sirens wail, and Kris blinks in surprise, eyes finding an ambulance passing through an intersection. He frowns a little; he can’t remember the last time he heard sirens in the area. He watches the ambulance pass the school and head into the residential area, followed by a few cop cars. His fingers grip the bulb of his cane, pads of his fingers sliding over the smooth surface, before he turns away from the window. He sees a student at his desk and offers a small smile, forgetting about the oddity and limping back over to his desk to sit down and take the book return.
When the student leaves, Kris pulls out a book of his own, leaning back in his chair a bit to catch up on his own novel.
Some birds chirp outside, their tunes mixing with the music playing from the radio, and Kris still can’t help but think it’s particularly quiet in the library today.
--
On the last day of school, students are partying more than anything. Classes are free reign for snacks and drinks, kids loading up on sugar and friendship before they’re released for the summer. The library is closed, and Kris is busy making sure everything is in order before the school closes up for the season. It’s always weird, to have summers off; he’s not sure what he’s going to do with all his spare time. He never knows what to do.
After one o’clock, the school becomes eerily quiet. The students had been released early, and in their wake, teachers clean up the mess and go about cleaning out their classrooms and offices until September comes around again. Kris is bracing himself on his cane, long arm stretching over his head so he can pull down some potted plants he had on a shelf, when he hears someone clear their throat from somewhere behind him.
When he turns around, he almost drops the daisy.
“Jongdae,” he breathes out.
Jongdae is standing in front of the library doors, which are shut behind him. His head is wrapped up, one of his eyes covered with a patch. His left arm is in a sling, and in a tank top and shorts it’s easy to see all the cuts and bruises smattering over his pale skin. He looks… scarily thin.
“Hey, Mr. Wu,” he says, corner of his split lip lifting up in the tiniest of smiles.
Kris sets the daisy on his desk, taking a step towards Jongdae. His heart aches. Jongdae looks like he’s been put through the ringer and then hung to dry, but here he is, on the last day of school, in the library with Kris, of all people.
“What happened--?” Kris asks, because it’s not like Jongdae can look like that and Kris would stay silent.
Jongdae shifts his weight a little, and shrugs with his good shoulder. “I got my diploma.”
“That’s… good--?” Kris replies, warily.
“Dad didn’t like it so much,” Jongdae says, and then clears his throat. “Sucks that school’s out--” he gives a weak laugh. “Public library is too far to walk when I need to get away.”
Kris feels… so much anger, and frustration for Jongdae. He has been working tirelessly to better his situation, and when he finally got something good out of it, he was punished? Kris’ grip turns white-knuckled on his cane, and he steps forward. “Away from your dad?”
Jongdae nods, and takes a step back when Kris steps forward. “Yeah-- but. It’s ok. I can go to the Y or something.”
“Didn’t you tell the authorities?” Kris asks, suddenly remembering seeing the ambulance and cops passing by the school a few weeks ago. “Why isn’t your dad in jail?”
“I covered for him,” Jongdae says, firmly. His shoulders are sagged and he hasn’t looked up at Kris’ face at all. “They sent him to a rehab clinic and I told them I’d stay with my aunt while he was there, since I’m a minor.”
“...Are you going to stay with your aunt?” Kris asks, suspicious.
“I don’t have an aunt,” Jongdae snorts, finally raising his gaze to Kris’. “I was just going to stay at home without him and work, save up some money to leave.”
“And go where?”
“Anywhere,” Jongdae shrugs. “Buy a bus ticket and go. When he gets out of rehab he’s… he’s going to be so pissed at me.” He chews his lower lip, gaze dropping again.
The gravity of the situation settles in the pit of Kris’ gut. Jongdae was here at the school constantly when he wasn’t working, so he could get away from his dad. Now he’s got a whole summer of nowhere to go; Kris licks his lips, thumb idly caressing the round of his cane.
“I can’t really work for a few weeks, though, they won’t let me,” Jongdae says, good hand reaching up to adjust the patch over his right eye. “But dad will be gone all summer and that’s enough time for me to save up enough money to leave.”
“You’re seventeen,” Kris says. “You can’t just skip town on a whim and a few paychecks.”
“You didn’t strike me as the lecturing type,” Jongdae says, disappointment lacing his voice.
“Then why did you come here?” Kris asks. “I’m an adult, and you’re a kid that wants to run away. What am I supposed to say? I can’t condone it. It’s not safe.”
“Being there when my dad gets out isn’t safe,” Jongdae immediately retorts, and then sighs and puts his hand over his face. “I… I just wanted to see you. You’re the only person that hasn’t treated me like shit.”
If Kris grips the orb of his cane any tighter, it’ll probably break. Jongdae looks as pathetic as Kris feels on most days, and he feels a little tendril of his heart reaching out desperately for the kid. Kris’ biggest obstacle of every day is finding the will to beat his depression and get out of bed… Jongdae’s biggest obstacle is fending for his life, and safety. Kris need to stop feeling sorry for himself-- someone half his age has it worse than him. Kris is alive. A bit broken, but alive, and even though sometimes his fingers tremble when he holds the steering wheel of his car… he’s ok, and in no immediate danger. He doesn’t wake up every day afraid.
“Stay with me,” Kris says, voice soft, but firm.
Jongdae’s hand drops from his face, his gaze sharp on Kris. “... What?”
“Come stay at my place,” Kris repeats. “There’s room. I wouldn’t be alright with you living on your own for three months.” A small, wry smile quirks the corner of Kris’ lips. “Do you even know how to grocery shop?”
A beat of silence, and then a small, relieved smile passes over Jongdae’s lips. “Actually, yeah.”
Kris gathers a few things in a box on his desk, and then hefts it up into one arm, nodding towards Jongdae. “Get the doors and help me to the car.”
Jongdae turns around and opens the library door, holding it so Kris can amble through, before following after the librarian.
As they pack up Kris’ car, both of them one-handed but no less able, Kris finally feels…
Alive.
--
Three weeks into Jongdae living at Kris’ house, and things are going well. Kris drives him to his doctor’s appointments (otherwise Jongdae wouldn’t go, because apparently he has an inherent fear of the doctor’s office), and makes sure he checks in at the police station once a week so they know he’s alive and well and being taken care of (and, miraculously, no one ever questions where his aunt is). They get along easily, but a bit warily, still unsure about a man and a teen sharing a space together.
Jongdae’s bandages and sling come off, and he’s back to his original boyish charm after a month. He mows the lawn, does the dishes, and helps Kris plant the flowers from the library in the garden. He’s a good kid, and in sharing a space, Kris feels a bit of purpose, now. Well-- a lot of purpose. There’s no telling what’s going to happen when Jongdae’s dad gets out of rehab, but Jongdae will be eighteen in a few months’ time, and then his dad won’t have any power over him.
Kris encourages Jongdae to search for a different job; one that doesn’t have him coming home smelling of grease and sugar. Jongdae agrees and manages to find a job at a local car dealership, washing and cleaning cars. It pays better and keeps him out in the sunshine, and when he comes home he smells like soap and wax and it’s much easier on Kris’ sinuses when they sit across from each other at the dinner table.
One afternoon, they’re sitting out on the back porch, Kris reclined on a patio chair, Jongdae next to him on the love seat. They’re sipping lemonade and cooling off in the shade, wearing tank tops and shorts and flip flops, the lawn mower and weed wacker out and still hot from use. Jongdae doesn’t really let Kris do any heavy lifting, which sort of hits Kris’ ego, but then again, things go smoother and faster with Jongdae doing those sort of tasks. Kris sticks to gardening and landscaping, where he can sit on the ground and work on specific patches of the garden and cultivate them to his taste.
“You have a really nice place,” Jongdae says, ice clinking in his glass as he takes a drink of the lemonade. “Did you grow up here?”
“Yeah,” Kris says, his cup resting on the arm of his chair as he looks out at the yard. With Jongdae’s help, a lot of projects have been gotten done in a timely manner.
Jongdae is silent a few moments, and then Kris feels his gaze on him. “How… Uh-- like, did you get in an accident…”
Kids are always so tactful. Kris chuckles, glancing over with a small smile. “Yeah. A semi-truck driver decided to drive into oncoming traffic.”
Jongdae sits forward a bit, frowning. “That sucks.”
“Tell me about it,” Kris snorts, taking a sip of lemonade.
“So what all… happened?”
“My pelvis got crushed. Doctors said I wouldn’t walk ever again,” Kris keeps his gaze out on the yard. “I got addicted to physical therapy after my hip replacement… and was walking with a cane a year later.”
“Woah,” Jongdae laughs a bit. “That’s awesome. I’ve seen your picture in the school trophy cases… you were basketball star and prom king. You seem like the type that doesn’t give up so easily.”
Kris falls quiet, and his next words are soft, as he rotates his cup to get his ice to shift around. “I had given up… before the school year started. I woke up every day wanting to go back to bed, and sleep until I died. Everything I wanted got taken away from me because some idiot wanted to make a deadline.” he sighs, licking his lips slowly in thought. “It was really hard to find a reason to wake up every day, even though working in the library makes me really happy. My class rival, Park Chanyeol, became head of P.E., and then there’s me-- assistant coach. Hobbling around on this stupid thing,” he says, gesturing towards his cane leaning against the banister of the porch.
“Oh,” Jongdae says.
Kris feels stupid for admitting all of that. He sits up a little, setting his glass down on the little coffee table. “But it’s different now.”
“Why?”
Glancing over, Kris sees Jongdae’s eyes, young and curious but weathered beyond their years. He offers a small smile, “Because I met you.”
A light flush dusts Jongdae’s cheeks and he glances away, scoffing and rubbing his eyes in a likely attempt to cover his blush. “Corny.”
“It’s true,” Kris says, grabbing his cane and standing up, rubbing a hand over his hip with a bit of pressure. “You remind me of me… but a stronger version. I guess that’s why I wanted to take you in. They say that strength is contagious.”
“So you brought me in to make me feel better about yourself?”
Kris’ eyes snap to Jongdae, but there’s no malice in the boy’s words, nor a frown on his features. Jongdae is grinning, cheeky little bastard, and he stands up and stretches his arms over his head.
“I’m glad I can do that for you,” Jongdae says, stepping around the coffee table and starting down the steps into the yard. “It makes me feel good, too.”
Kris chuckles a little, following after Jongdae, “Corny.”
Jongdae merely flips him the bird, before he pulls the cord on the lawn mower, the machine roaring to life.
Kris finally feels like he’s living.
[ Part two...]
Pairing: Kris/Chen
Rating: NC-17
Summary: After suffering a debilitating injury, Kris is at a pretty low point in his life. He wants to feel alive again. He finds that spark... and its name is Kim Jongdae.
Word Count: 14.7k
notes: i'm slowly finishing wip's that i've literally had since 2013 lmao this is one of them. if you understand the flower references, c'mere, lemme give u a kiss
holly roots;
Ten years ago, if you told Kris that he’d be back in the high school that he graduated from as a staff member, he would have laughed in your face. Not that he hated his school, not at all; he just always thought he was going to become a great basketball star, travel the world, join the NBA. He’d had a girlfriend that he was sure he was going to marry and was on full ride to university with a basketball scholarship.
Five years ago, Kris’ dreams were brought to a screeching halt when he was in a head-on collision. He’d miraculously survived-- but not without cost. Multiple broken bones, hip replacement surgery to restore the shattered part of his pelvis; the doctors weren’t sure if he was going to be able to walk ever again.
His high school sweetheart left him.
The university dropped him.
His family turned their backs.
Living off of disability and a newfound determination, Kris’ physical therapy appointments were five times a week, and he was doing self rehabilitation in his own home. When his father passed he’d gotten the inheritance as only child, and shortly after, when his mother died of loneliness, Kris was given the estate. It wasn’t Beverly Hills, but in a quiet community with a house to himself and some acreage, he figured he’d lucked out.
A year of physical therapy had him up and walking with the use of a cane. The sleek, metal cane was topped with a globe that mirrored the full moon in a dark, cloudy sky, and became a part of him as much as his own seventy-five percent functional legs.
Without sports as his career, Kris had shut in, and become more of a recluse than anything. Reading, studying, online college classes. He rehabilitated himself and didn’t really see a need for friends or family or otherwise, and one day, he found himself driving to his former high school. When he looked up at the building and the students milling about it, Kris decided that maybe… he had something to give back, finally.
At twenty-nine, Kris became the school’s librarian-slash-assistant physical education teacher. Despite his setbacks, the school was ready to welcome him into their embrace and the student’s lives, and here… he was important. He was their star basketball player, their valedictorian, their charming Kris Wu that had suffered an unfortunate fate and they were ready to be there for him once more.
You know how this story goes, right?
… Nah, you probably don’t.
--
“Shut up.”
The chatter in the student library immediately dies, and dozens of eyes cast the head librarian furtive glances. Kris is sitting at the desk, organizing the Almanac and putting it on a cart to be wheeled back to its section. He didn’t even look up as his voice spoke much louder than what could be considered normal -- considering he hadn’t even been yelling. His voice is commanding and authoritative and the library had gotten a bit too loud, and it’s his job to make sure peace and order is restored.
The students go back to work, although much quieter than before.
Kris pinches the bridge of his nose, taking his glasses off and setting them on the desk. He glances at his cane, resting against the corner of the polished oak, and reaches out to run his fingers over the cool metal. It’s nine a.m. and after first period is home room block, where students are given time to study and catch up for their next classes. It’s always fairly full in the library, and even though the kids get rowdy sometimes, he enjoys the warm, cozy feeling of all the bodies packed into the area, the sound of pages turning and pencils scratching over paper.
“Excuse me…?”
Kris glances up, sitting up straighter in his rolly chair. There’s a young girl standing in front of his desk and Kris offers a small smile, recognizing her as the student council president.
“Hi, Joonmyun,” he greets.
She smiles shyly, setting the book she’s holding down on the desk. “I’d like to check this out, please, Mr. Wu.”
He scowls a bit playfully, putting his glasses back on his face and wiggling the mouse of his computer to wake up his monitor. “You can call me Kris, Joonmyun, like everyone else. Mr. Wu is my dad.”
Joonmyun giggles, and nods, biting her lower lip and opening the book up so Kris can get the numbers off of it. He presses the stamp into the inkwell and then presses it carefully to the index card that already has Joonmyun’s name on it -- she’s the only student that’s checked this book out repeatedly since school started two months ago. He blows on the ink to dry it a little, and then keys the numbers into the computer and then slides the book back over to her side of the desk.
“There you go,” he says. He glances up at her as she closes the cover of the book carefully, and then lifts the flap of her satchel to try to fit it in. “You know, I could lift the fifteen day checkout for you. You check out that book so often…” he lifts a hand to his mouth to whisper, “and you’re the only one.” He smiles, leaning back in his chair. “Why don’t you just hold on to it until you’re done?”
Joonmyun splutters a little, her soft cheeks tinting pink, and her fingers fumble with her book bag a few times before she gets the book securely in. “Really?”
“Sure,” Kris nods, then grabs his cane and rests some of his support on it to help himself stand up from his seat. “If someone else needs it, I’ll let you know, but for now it looks like you and that book are exclusive.” he smiles, and makes his way over to the cart. A blessing and a curse, this wheeled contraption; he can rest his weight on it and walk without the aid of his cane, but the cart can get fairly heavy sometimes.
“Um-- Mr-- I mean, Kris--?”
Both of Kris’ hands are on the handle of the full cart, and he turns his attention back to Joonmyun. She’s fidgeting, looking at the ground and tucking her hair behind her ear nervously, then twirling her finger down to the ends, and then restarting the process.
“Yes?” he asks, a bit unsurely.
Joonmyun looks up, and he sees it in her eyes. Ohh, dear. After two years and seven confessions from starstruck girls, Kris can tell when a girl is going to blurt out her heart and let it flop around on the floor a few times before he has to, very gently (yet firmly) step on it. She opens her mouth, and he opens his to cut her off, but then--
“Hey.”
Kris glances over to the desk, where a student he’s never seen before is holding up a book. Joonmyun looks surprised too, and a bit suspicious. The kid is barely seventeen, with tousled hair and eyes that scream mischief, and Kris frowns a little. Joonmyun, thankfully, sees that now isn’t the time, but Kris knows she’ll be back again and that really the inevitable has just been delayed.
Joonmyun smiles at Kris, eyes the student, and then leaves the library.
The kid watches her go, then whistles under his breath a bit as he sets the book on the counter. “That was close.” His gaze lifts to Kris’, and Kris sees life sparkling in his eyes. “You’re welcome.”
Kris snorts, grabbing his cane and moving back to his seat, sitting down a bit heavily. Leaning his cane against the desk, he wakes up his computer again, sliding the book closer to himself. A glance down the index card reads KIM JONGDAE, and Kris knows he’s never seen that name before. Then again, it’s only November… still fairly early in the school year. The kid could be a transfer.
“I never said thank you,” is Kris’ slightly terse reply as he keys in the book numbers, and then stamps next to Jongdae’s name. He closes the book, handing it back.
“One day you will,” Jongdae says, taking the book and wiggling it in adieu, both of his brows raising playfully before he slinks off towards his seat in the back of the library.
Kris arches a brow, then drums his fingers on his desk contemplatively.
Hm.
--
Kris is walking (not hobbling, he tells himself, even with the aid of his cane attached to his left hand) around the library, swiffer duster in his free hand. He can reach the top shelves fine enough, but the bottom rows of books are giving him a bit of trouble. For now, he’s making his laps one shelf at a time, going from top to bottom. It’s taken him the better part of the day, especially being interrupted every now and again to check out books, but he doesn’t mind. He tells faculty that he dusts once a week because the school should be kept clean, but in reality the dust is a bitch to his allergies and as much as he snorts up that flonaise his allergies won’t rest unless he keeps a tidy space.
Being outside during the last period of the day with the P.E. class doesn’t help either but Kris doesn’t want everyone knowing he’s no better than the basement nerds that play dungeons and dragons during lunch period.
After five laps, Kris is at the bottom shelves. He heaves a sigh and looks around the library, and then down at his cane. This is always an obstacle; he can’t bend normally, and he doesn’t have the right flexibility in his lower body to reach down and dust in all the nooks and crannies. He stares at the duster in his hand, which is nearly black with all the dust he’s collected (he makes a mental note to stop cracking the windows in the morning), and sighs softly.
“Need some help?”
Once again, Kris is taken out of his thoughts and worries by a cheeky voice. He turns around to see Kim Jongdae leaning against a table, arms folded over his chest and a small smirk on his lips.
Kris glances at the clock, “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
Jongdae shrugs, “I’ve been studying.” His head tilts, and Kris can see the lingering traces of a black eye.
The librarian doesn’t press. He shakes his head, leaning on his cane as he takes a step forward, clearly intent on getting down and dusting himself.
Jongdae is at his elbow before Kris realizes. He takes the duster from Kris’ hands and dances away, out of Kris’ reach, and then brandishes the duster. “I can take it from here. Why don’t you go do some librarian things? Like organize the card catalog or something.”
“Everything’s on computers now,” Kris says, like Jongdae should know. He patiently holds his hand out, “Get to class, Jongdae.”
The boy rolls his eyes, and then gets down on the ground right where Kris was going to start dusting. “No, you go sit. I’ll do this. I’m done with my book.”
“So get to class,” Kris says, trying his best not to grit his teeth.
Jongdae just starts dusting and ignoring Kris’ presence altogether. The librarian stands there for about five minutes, but when Jongdae shows no signs of stopping (and is actually doing a fairly decent job of dusting), Kris relents. He makes his way back to his desk and sits down, warily watching Jongdae.
What a weird kid.
When Jongdae finishes thirty minutes later, he tosses the dirty swiffer into the trash and leaves the handle on the edge of Kris’ desk. He grabs the book from the table he’d supposedly been sitting at (how did Kris not notice?), and tucks it into his bag, before offering a kittenish smile and a wave to Kris before he leaves the library, the doors swinging shut behind him.
Kris frowns just as the bell rings.
--
It’s Spring time and Kris is standing on the side of the track, most of his weight on his right leg, cane tucked into his armpit as he claps and hollers into his cupped hands. It’s the mile run for physical education and Kris wishes so much he could be running alongside the kids, cheering them on and encouraging even the chubby kid in last place to finish.
But he doesn’t have to, when Park Chanyeol is the head P.E. coach.
Chanyeol is a burst of energy and way more positive than Kris could ever dream of being. Kris has seen Chanyeol pep talk confidence into the most unsure of kids, and right now Chanyeol is jogging a little bit ahead of a group of stragglers, calling military chants out for them to repeat. Although, Kris hears him modifying a few phrases for things like “then we’ll get a cheeseburger!” or “I can wear a new dress!”. It’s actually pretty ridiculous, and Kris feels a little useless on the sidelines, but he’s also manning the stopwatch and telling the kids their times as they pass the finish line.
As the last kids cross over Chanyeol moves to the back of the crowd, sweating but barely out of breath. He’s blowing his whistle and yelling encouraging words and the kids all look like they’re trying to finish the run so they can get away from him, rather than actually caring about their times. Kris rolls his eyes when Chanyeol finishes, beaming and wiping the sweat from his brow.
“That was great!” he crows, clapping a few times and waving a fist in the air. “Next year you guys will be even faster!”
All the students groan.
“Go wash up, I’ll let you guys out early for doing such a good job!”
All the students cheer and promptly disappear to the locker rooms.
Kris finishes writing the student’s times on the paper attached to his clipboard, and then tucks the pencil behind his ear, dropping his cane down so he can start slowly walking back up to the gym with Chanyeol.
“Aren’t they great?” Chanyeol asks rhetorically. Chanyeol thinks everyone is great.
“Yes,” Kris replies dryly.
Chanyeol wraps an arm around Kris’ shoulders and almost upsets his balance. “Next week is basketball. You’re gonna be head coach! I’ll take the back seat.”
Kris tries not to panic. “Um-- that’s not-- you don’t have to do that, I can be assistant, Chanyeol.”
“Nahhhh,” Chanyeol wrinkles his nose and makes a rather ugly face. “They all want you to be their coach. They like you better than me! Plus, you’re the basketball star. I suck.”
Kris’s gut falls and he pulls out of Chanyeol’s grip, clenching his jaw as he does his best to stalk forward, the butt of his cane digging into the grass as they near the entrance of the gym. “I was the basketball star.”
“Shit--”
Kris doesn’t need to see Chanyeol’s face to recognize the pity in his voice that’s more than likely mirrored in his eyes. He doesn’t want the pity. Doesn’t need the pity.
“Kris, wait--”
“You’re the head coach, Chanyeol,” Kris says, slamming the door of the school open, his cane knocking noisily against the aluminum frame.
Chanyeol doesn’t say anything more as Kris stalks through the empty gymnasium, the tinny sound of his cane hitting the wood floor on every left step echoing loudly.
--
Five days out of the week, Kris is at the school. Before school, to open up the library early for the crammers trying to fit as much knowledge into their head before a test; and after school, for the kids staying late for study sessions and tutor groups. On the weekends Kris keeps busy at his house, but nothing quite… fulfills him, anymore, like being at the school. Sure, there are days when he wakes up and doesn’t want to get out of bed -- when his hip is aching and foretelling of impending rain, or when he’s been jolted awake, nightmares of the car crash still fresh in his head.
Kris doesn’t think he’s any sort of strong, but he’ll never think he’s any kind of weak, either.
So he gets up, every day, and goes about his business.
He’s starting to lose focus on what he’s living for.
--
It doesn’t take long for Kris to notice something… off, about Kim Jongdae.
None of the other students ever really take notice of Jongdae, or talk to him. When Kris engages in conversation (rarely) with him, the other students cast him curious glances, and then go back to their work.
Joonmyun is particularly vicious about the fact that Jongdae is different.
“Mr. Wu--”
“Kris.”
“--he doesn’t…” Joonmyun trails off, her cute little nose scrunching in her distaste. Kris pays her no mind, straightening some books out on his desk that need to be entered into the database as checked in. “Kris.” Joonmyun whines, and Kris finally glances up. She’s sending cautious glances towards where Jongdae’s sitting, but he’s in his own little world, writing what looks to be a ten page essay. “He doesn’t attend this school,” Joonmyun finally whispers, her long hair falling over her shoulders as she leans over Kris’ desk.
Kris pays attention. Both of his brows raise, and he stares up at her. “What?”
One of her hands rests on the desk as she leans even closer, the other hand cupping her mouth so she can whisper. “I know every single student in this school, and I checked the roster the other day. There’s no Kim Jongdae at this school.”
Kris’ gaze wanders over to Jongdae. If he doesn’t attend this school, why is he here? Practically every day, at around the same time, Jongdae is parked at the same table, in the same chair, with some book propped open as he does homework. Or, what Kris assumes is homework. He looks back up at Joonmyun, speaking quietly. “You’re sure?” Why would a kid just be in a school library if he had no legitimate reason to be?
Joonmyun nods, then folds her arms over her chest. “I’m going to the Principal today to tell her.”
“No--” Kris shakes his head, and Joonmyun is surprised at his interjection. He clears his throat, offers a small smile, “Let me talk to him. He hasn’t been bothering anybody.” For some reason, the thought of the Principal finding out and possibly kicking Jongdae out of the school… doesn’t sit well with him.
Normally a patient girl, Joonmyun looks a bit frazzled, her brows knitting as she glares down at Kris. “But he doesn’t go here. This library is for student use only, not the public.”
“Quit being such a stickler, Joonmyun,” Kris says, grabbing his cane and bracing himself on it as he stands up. “Get to class. And don’t talk to the Principal, I’ll handle this myself.” he says, sending the girl a pointed look.
She doesn’t look pleased, but she does deflate, nodding her head and leaving the library to head to her next class. Kris walks (hobbles) over to Jongdae’s table and pulls out the chair opposite, slowly sitting down. The top of his cane rests against the edge of the table and he folds his hands atop the surface, staring across at Jongdae. How is he supposed to go about this? ‘Hey, you don’t attend here but you attend here, you feel me? What’s up with that?’ or even ‘Did you lose your library card?’ and maybe even ‘Are you an illegal immigrant’ are all at the tip of his tongue, but… Kris has never been too good with words in the first place.
There’s a few bruises on the younger’s neck, and Kris vaguely wonders if he has a girlfriend.
“I heard what Miss Priss said,” Jongdae says casually, flipping the page of his book. His gaze doesn’t even lift to Kris as he writes a few things down in his notebook. “She’s right. I don’t attend this school.”
“Where do you attend, then?” Kris asks, as patiently as possible. His thumb starts sliding over the back of his opposite hand, as they lay folded on the table.
“Nowhere,” Jongdae shrugs. “I dropped out last year.”
Kris’ thumb stops. He stares across the table at Jongdae in disbelief, then glances down at the books. A million and ten questions run through his head, all fighting to get out of his mouth; ‘why did you drop out?’, ‘why are you here?’, ‘what do your parents think?’. But, words.
Instead, Kris says nothing.
Jongdae finishes the line he’s writing, then glances across the table at Kris. The corner of his lip is split, and Kris’ gaze flicks to it; Jongdae twirls his pencil in his fingers, then leans back in his seat. “I work full time night shift at a fast food place. I come here to study when I can.”
“Why?” No specifics come out of Kris’ mouth, but he thinks Jongdae gets the general gist. He feels dumb, at thirty-one, talking to a teenager and feeling pangs of anxiety. What will the answers be? What’s the secret behind Jongdae’s smile?
“Dad,” Jongdae says, closing the book and sliding it aside. He stares at the cover thoughtfully for a moment, then continues, “Last year I was a sophomore when my dad decided he needed more money to support his alcohol problem. I dropped out, got a job, and here I am. In short,” he says, clearly trying to inject some humor into the scenario with a quirk of his busted lip. It hurts Kris. “I’m trying to prepare myself to just take the test to get my diploma instead of coming back to school. That way I can keep working.”
A thick silence settles over the table and if it’s stifling Kris, he knows it must be suffocating Jongdae. A few moments pass and Jongdae meets Kris’ gaze, then ducks his own, before gathering his things and standing.
“I understand, though,” the younger says as he starts putting his belongings in his backpack. “I don’t attend this school, I should go to the public library. It’s just easier to catch assignments here.”
Kris recalls the times Jongdae has socialized; never to chat, but always to ask what so-and-so’s teacher assignment was for the day, topics of essays, to borrow some notes and copy them down. And knowing that Jongdae is here because of an unfortunate circumstance…
“You may stay,” Kris says, grabbing his cane and standing.
Jongdae looks, honestly, surprised. He sets his backpack down on the table, and then slowly sits down. “...Really?”
For all the slight mischief Jongdae has caused, Kris finds that he prefers cheeky responses versus the timid inquiries he’s currently getting.
“Really,” Kris smiles, nodding. “It’ll be our secret.”
“But Joonmyun--”
Kris waves a hand, “She’ll be fine. Maybe try to be friends with her?”
Jongdae smiles small, nodding and pulling his utensils out of his bag once more. “Thank you, Kris. I… thank you.”
“Mr. Wu,” Kris emphasises with a small, warm smile, before he turns around to head back to his desk.
He doesn’t have all the details… but he’s not sure he wants, or needs them. Jongdae is a good kid and Kris would never deny a child their education.
His heart still aches… but it feels a bit fuller than before.
--
Nothing gets past Joonmyun. She notices the following week, when Jongdae is still at the round table, chewing on the eraser of his pencil as he works on an essay featuring Socrates.
“The extended learning programs teach you what you need to know to pass the diploma test,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She’s irritated, and chewing her gum rather loudly, hip rested against Kris’ desk as he starts going down the list of overdue books.
“They teach you what is on the test, and nothing more. He wants to learn what all of you are learning. That’s not illegal.” he says idly, glancing up. Joonmyun’s otherwise modest skirt is hiked up some, due to the way she’s leaning against his desk. He reaches out with his pen, poking her back with the cap. “Correct posture, please. And spit out your gum.”
Huffing, but complying, Joonmyun pulls her gum out of her mouth and tosses it into the garbage can. She reaches into her purse, pulling out some hand sanitizer, furiously working it between her fingers and palms. “If the Principal finds out--”
“--which she won’t,” Kris coolly interjects.
Joonmyun finally turns around, both hands on the desk as she stares at Kris. “Mr. Wu, you could get in serious trouble.”
He doesn’t offer a reply, doesn’t even look at her as he starts marking off the names of student’s he’s going to be sending home a letter to about book fees.
“You’ll break the rules for some drop out, but you won’t even listen to my confession?” she asks, voice incredulous.
“Those,” he finally replies, lifting his gaze to meet hers, “are two totally different things. Your girly fantasies interfere with your studies. Library time is time to study, not chat up the librarian. Jongdae rarely bothers me. I think he even dislikes talking to me.” Which isn’t far from the truth; Jongdae is thankful for Kris’ leniency, but he does seem to… shy away. “So re-evaluate your priorities, Miss Kim, and understand that I would get in more trouble for giving into your fantasies than letting a child sit peacefully in a safe area with a book.”
Still huffy, and maybe even a bit of hurt shining in her eyes, Joonmyun gathers her book bag and exits the library.
Smiling a bit to himself, Kris glances up to catch Jongdae’s eye, and he’s equally amused. He tosses Kris a peace sign, and then goes back to his work, ruffling his already messy hair and looking quite exhausted, but determined.
A little battle won… yet Kris really feels like he’s making a difference.
--
The school year is coming to a close. Students are getting cabin fever, outside between classes, during lunch, and any time they can sneak away to soak up some sunshine. Kris has all the windows and curtains open, allowing the warm breeze to ruffle through the library and revitalize the students that are studying so hard for final exams. There are a lot of seniors working on their projects, and a few lower classmen playing a card game or another on this sunny afternoon, and Kris has a top 40 radio station playing softly on the dusty old boombox he keeps on the shelf behind his desk.
It’s a peaceful day.
He hasn’t seen Jongdae in two weeks, though.
Joonmyun has relented her pursuits, both trying to woo Kris and get Jongdae in trouble, as she is also busy focusing on her senior project. She’s sitting with a few other girls, being relatively bossy as she tells them how to organize things and prepare them for presentation, and Kris smiles to himself as he grabs his cane, hefting himself up out of his rolly chair and making his way over to the large windows.
Leaning against the small window sill, the library faces the main road that the school is on, residential houses on the other side. A quaint neighborhood. Kris lives only five minutes away from school, and he likes the sound of barking dogs and playing children into the early evening as he fixes himself dinner and relaxes on his patio furniture.
Sirens wail, and Kris blinks in surprise, eyes finding an ambulance passing through an intersection. He frowns a little; he can’t remember the last time he heard sirens in the area. He watches the ambulance pass the school and head into the residential area, followed by a few cop cars. His fingers grip the bulb of his cane, pads of his fingers sliding over the smooth surface, before he turns away from the window. He sees a student at his desk and offers a small smile, forgetting about the oddity and limping back over to his desk to sit down and take the book return.
When the student leaves, Kris pulls out a book of his own, leaning back in his chair a bit to catch up on his own novel.
Some birds chirp outside, their tunes mixing with the music playing from the radio, and Kris still can’t help but think it’s particularly quiet in the library today.
--
On the last day of school, students are partying more than anything. Classes are free reign for snacks and drinks, kids loading up on sugar and friendship before they’re released for the summer. The library is closed, and Kris is busy making sure everything is in order before the school closes up for the season. It’s always weird, to have summers off; he’s not sure what he’s going to do with all his spare time. He never knows what to do.
After one o’clock, the school becomes eerily quiet. The students had been released early, and in their wake, teachers clean up the mess and go about cleaning out their classrooms and offices until September comes around again. Kris is bracing himself on his cane, long arm stretching over his head so he can pull down some potted plants he had on a shelf, when he hears someone clear their throat from somewhere behind him.
When he turns around, he almost drops the daisy.
“Jongdae,” he breathes out.
Jongdae is standing in front of the library doors, which are shut behind him. His head is wrapped up, one of his eyes covered with a patch. His left arm is in a sling, and in a tank top and shorts it’s easy to see all the cuts and bruises smattering over his pale skin. He looks… scarily thin.
“Hey, Mr. Wu,” he says, corner of his split lip lifting up in the tiniest of smiles.
Kris sets the daisy on his desk, taking a step towards Jongdae. His heart aches. Jongdae looks like he’s been put through the ringer and then hung to dry, but here he is, on the last day of school, in the library with Kris, of all people.
“What happened--?” Kris asks, because it’s not like Jongdae can look like that and Kris would stay silent.
Jongdae shifts his weight a little, and shrugs with his good shoulder. “I got my diploma.”
“That’s… good--?” Kris replies, warily.
“Dad didn’t like it so much,” Jongdae says, and then clears his throat. “Sucks that school’s out--” he gives a weak laugh. “Public library is too far to walk when I need to get away.”
Kris feels… so much anger, and frustration for Jongdae. He has been working tirelessly to better his situation, and when he finally got something good out of it, he was punished? Kris’ grip turns white-knuckled on his cane, and he steps forward. “Away from your dad?”
Jongdae nods, and takes a step back when Kris steps forward. “Yeah-- but. It’s ok. I can go to the Y or something.”
“Didn’t you tell the authorities?” Kris asks, suddenly remembering seeing the ambulance and cops passing by the school a few weeks ago. “Why isn’t your dad in jail?”
“I covered for him,” Jongdae says, firmly. His shoulders are sagged and he hasn’t looked up at Kris’ face at all. “They sent him to a rehab clinic and I told them I’d stay with my aunt while he was there, since I’m a minor.”
“...Are you going to stay with your aunt?” Kris asks, suspicious.
“I don’t have an aunt,” Jongdae snorts, finally raising his gaze to Kris’. “I was just going to stay at home without him and work, save up some money to leave.”
“And go where?”
“Anywhere,” Jongdae shrugs. “Buy a bus ticket and go. When he gets out of rehab he’s… he’s going to be so pissed at me.” He chews his lower lip, gaze dropping again.
The gravity of the situation settles in the pit of Kris’ gut. Jongdae was here at the school constantly when he wasn’t working, so he could get away from his dad. Now he’s got a whole summer of nowhere to go; Kris licks his lips, thumb idly caressing the round of his cane.
“I can’t really work for a few weeks, though, they won’t let me,” Jongdae says, good hand reaching up to adjust the patch over his right eye. “But dad will be gone all summer and that’s enough time for me to save up enough money to leave.”
“You’re seventeen,” Kris says. “You can’t just skip town on a whim and a few paychecks.”
“You didn’t strike me as the lecturing type,” Jongdae says, disappointment lacing his voice.
“Then why did you come here?” Kris asks. “I’m an adult, and you’re a kid that wants to run away. What am I supposed to say? I can’t condone it. It’s not safe.”
“Being there when my dad gets out isn’t safe,” Jongdae immediately retorts, and then sighs and puts his hand over his face. “I… I just wanted to see you. You’re the only person that hasn’t treated me like shit.”
If Kris grips the orb of his cane any tighter, it’ll probably break. Jongdae looks as pathetic as Kris feels on most days, and he feels a little tendril of his heart reaching out desperately for the kid. Kris’ biggest obstacle of every day is finding the will to beat his depression and get out of bed… Jongdae’s biggest obstacle is fending for his life, and safety. Kris need to stop feeling sorry for himself-- someone half his age has it worse than him. Kris is alive. A bit broken, but alive, and even though sometimes his fingers tremble when he holds the steering wheel of his car… he’s ok, and in no immediate danger. He doesn’t wake up every day afraid.
“Stay with me,” Kris says, voice soft, but firm.
Jongdae’s hand drops from his face, his gaze sharp on Kris. “... What?”
“Come stay at my place,” Kris repeats. “There’s room. I wouldn’t be alright with you living on your own for three months.” A small, wry smile quirks the corner of Kris’ lips. “Do you even know how to grocery shop?”
A beat of silence, and then a small, relieved smile passes over Jongdae’s lips. “Actually, yeah.”
Kris gathers a few things in a box on his desk, and then hefts it up into one arm, nodding towards Jongdae. “Get the doors and help me to the car.”
Jongdae turns around and opens the library door, holding it so Kris can amble through, before following after the librarian.
As they pack up Kris’ car, both of them one-handed but no less able, Kris finally feels…
Alive.
--
Three weeks into Jongdae living at Kris’ house, and things are going well. Kris drives him to his doctor’s appointments (otherwise Jongdae wouldn’t go, because apparently he has an inherent fear of the doctor’s office), and makes sure he checks in at the police station once a week so they know he’s alive and well and being taken care of (and, miraculously, no one ever questions where his aunt is). They get along easily, but a bit warily, still unsure about a man and a teen sharing a space together.
Jongdae’s bandages and sling come off, and he’s back to his original boyish charm after a month. He mows the lawn, does the dishes, and helps Kris plant the flowers from the library in the garden. He’s a good kid, and in sharing a space, Kris feels a bit of purpose, now. Well-- a lot of purpose. There’s no telling what’s going to happen when Jongdae’s dad gets out of rehab, but Jongdae will be eighteen in a few months’ time, and then his dad won’t have any power over him.
Kris encourages Jongdae to search for a different job; one that doesn’t have him coming home smelling of grease and sugar. Jongdae agrees and manages to find a job at a local car dealership, washing and cleaning cars. It pays better and keeps him out in the sunshine, and when he comes home he smells like soap and wax and it’s much easier on Kris’ sinuses when they sit across from each other at the dinner table.
One afternoon, they’re sitting out on the back porch, Kris reclined on a patio chair, Jongdae next to him on the love seat. They’re sipping lemonade and cooling off in the shade, wearing tank tops and shorts and flip flops, the lawn mower and weed wacker out and still hot from use. Jongdae doesn’t really let Kris do any heavy lifting, which sort of hits Kris’ ego, but then again, things go smoother and faster with Jongdae doing those sort of tasks. Kris sticks to gardening and landscaping, where he can sit on the ground and work on specific patches of the garden and cultivate them to his taste.
“You have a really nice place,” Jongdae says, ice clinking in his glass as he takes a drink of the lemonade. “Did you grow up here?”
“Yeah,” Kris says, his cup resting on the arm of his chair as he looks out at the yard. With Jongdae’s help, a lot of projects have been gotten done in a timely manner.
Jongdae is silent a few moments, and then Kris feels his gaze on him. “How… Uh-- like, did you get in an accident…”
Kids are always so tactful. Kris chuckles, glancing over with a small smile. “Yeah. A semi-truck driver decided to drive into oncoming traffic.”
Jongdae sits forward a bit, frowning. “That sucks.”
“Tell me about it,” Kris snorts, taking a sip of lemonade.
“So what all… happened?”
“My pelvis got crushed. Doctors said I wouldn’t walk ever again,” Kris keeps his gaze out on the yard. “I got addicted to physical therapy after my hip replacement… and was walking with a cane a year later.”
“Woah,” Jongdae laughs a bit. “That’s awesome. I’ve seen your picture in the school trophy cases… you were basketball star and prom king. You seem like the type that doesn’t give up so easily.”
Kris falls quiet, and his next words are soft, as he rotates his cup to get his ice to shift around. “I had given up… before the school year started. I woke up every day wanting to go back to bed, and sleep until I died. Everything I wanted got taken away from me because some idiot wanted to make a deadline.” he sighs, licking his lips slowly in thought. “It was really hard to find a reason to wake up every day, even though working in the library makes me really happy. My class rival, Park Chanyeol, became head of P.E., and then there’s me-- assistant coach. Hobbling around on this stupid thing,” he says, gesturing towards his cane leaning against the banister of the porch.
“Oh,” Jongdae says.
Kris feels stupid for admitting all of that. He sits up a little, setting his glass down on the little coffee table. “But it’s different now.”
“Why?”
Glancing over, Kris sees Jongdae’s eyes, young and curious but weathered beyond their years. He offers a small smile, “Because I met you.”
A light flush dusts Jongdae’s cheeks and he glances away, scoffing and rubbing his eyes in a likely attempt to cover his blush. “Corny.”
“It’s true,” Kris says, grabbing his cane and standing up, rubbing a hand over his hip with a bit of pressure. “You remind me of me… but a stronger version. I guess that’s why I wanted to take you in. They say that strength is contagious.”
“So you brought me in to make me feel better about yourself?”
Kris’ eyes snap to Jongdae, but there’s no malice in the boy’s words, nor a frown on his features. Jongdae is grinning, cheeky little bastard, and he stands up and stretches his arms over his head.
“I’m glad I can do that for you,” Jongdae says, stepping around the coffee table and starting down the steps into the yard. “It makes me feel good, too.”
Kris chuckles a little, following after Jongdae, “Corny.”
Jongdae merely flips him the bird, before he pulls the cord on the lawn mower, the machine roaring to life.
Kris finally feels like he’s living.
[ Part two...]