(for avellkyungsoo) it starts with an 'f'
❊ for: avellkyungsoo
❊ title: it starts with an 'f'
❊ pairings: kai/d.o
❊ rating: pg13
❊ word count: ~5.8k
❊ summary: a bond is tied a lot simpler than it seems
❊ a/n: I apologize
Talent begins in a coiled mass of interest and dedication with nothing in between. Self-doubt is not prancing in the blurry twisted lines because the kids are yet to care of what they are and what they’re capable of. They carry the tales of wizards and spells, or the high flyer that attacks and defends the ball with precision and persistence, as their muse to continue--and in some way, become like them.
But, not all talents bloom with flourished petals and honey-suckled nectars of potential. Some grow to be fragrant and vividly splashed with nature; those are flowers, that are sun-kissed with care, are the ones that get the attention and appreciation. Then there are some that remains to be hidden under the basking tender light and are left unnoticed to wither.
Like all talents, Kyungsoo begins in the coils, centered in animated high school tennis players.
♦♦♦
Kyungsoo lightly taps the mechanical pencil on the drawing table. It’s technical drawing again and he couldn’t care much what his teacher says about pinning the compass on what end of the horizontal line to make a perfect square--as if using a ruler is not enough(which they say isn’t.) His eyes flee towards the tip of the lead tip chipped off from too much beating against the rectangle wood, with inked pores, Blink 182 lyrics written on the topmost corner and drawings of genitals that comes with color variations.
Ideas come swift like bullets just from gawking on the said pencil. He quickly disposes the plate, flaked thin of erasures and writes at the back of it. Kyungsoo’s handwriting is sloppy and hurried because getting caught scribbling bits of tennis players growling their 'special moves' is the last thing he'd want to pee stinky embarrassment all over his pants.
Kyungsoo doesn't daydream the whole outline of the fiction he has in mind. He plots scene after scene with asterisks and parentheses; vaguely tracked transitions and primarily wrapped around the main idea of it.
"Hey, hey do you know how to do the hexagon one?" Kyungsoo flinches at the curt question by his seatmate.
Kyungsoo swiftly slides the plate under the table and tapes a new one. "Do you?" He grins and points at the empty plate before him.
His seatmate laughs and writes a question mark on the part where the hexagon should be drawn. Kyungsoo laughs with him and places another huge question mark, occupying the whole plate.
♦♦♦
Kyungsoo spins the pen on his thumb for the third consecutive time. The fourth one clacks along the ivory tiles of the laboratory. The sixth one gets his favorite pen confiscated for causing a fuss with too much clattering on the floor.
His latest fiction didn't get the response he thought it would. Kyungsoo has confidence that the material he's creating is good and non-stereotypical as the others he comes across with everytime he logs in and checks the Prince of Tennis tag. It bothers him how these top to bottom banal characterizations and poorly laid plots get the utmost love from readers, giving rave reviews.
Or maybe Kyungsoo doesn't fully grasp the hype of fan fiction at all.
Kyungsoo sighs at the stoichiometry problem, roughly 8 lines filling the one-half bond paper questionnaire handed out ten minutes ago. He knows how to solve this problem. He’s sure of it for their chemistry teacher has given them five similar examples just with the different digits.
Kyungsoo’s palms become glossed in sweat and frigid panic as the fear of automatic five mistakes just by missing this problem washes over him. His throat constricts and the cold creeps like needles simultaneously being pressed upon his shoulder. Time is ticking and Kyungsoo gulps when their teacher changes the minutes on the chalkboard to ten.
Then there is this repetitive sound of plastic against wood; slow two taps and fast four ones, as if it’s an attempt of calling Kyungsoo’s attention but he doesn’t turn. The soft beats become more rapid and annoying. Soon enough Kyungsoo slyly peers behind his folder and glances at the capped end of the pen, continuously tapping on the exposed scratch paper.
‘M’
And the pen tapping stops.
The first bell rings and all the papers are passed to the furthest left before they're sent to the front. Kyungsoo is relieved when he saw his seatmate’s paper, having the same final answer as him. Thankfully, their chemistry teacher didn’t catch them (since he’s busy with his phone) or else Kyungsoo will be dead--literally dead.
“You’re the one in Technical Drawing class,” Kyungsoo begins as he fully sees the familiar face, who slings the plaid jansport on his left shoulder.
“Yeah. I’m surprised you only recognized me now,” he grins and makes his way to the door.
Kyungsoo blushes. "Oh. I'm sorry and uh," he clears his throat and follows him. "I kind of peeked," he trails off as the door shuts with a gust towards his back. "On your scratch paper,” he finishes and expects a glum look on his seatmate’s face. Kyungsoo swiftly looks away and tightly clutches the strap of his bag. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I won’t do it again. I promise. Please don’t tell on me.” His voice cracks in the middle. Anxiety is ripping bubbles at the top of his throat as they make their way to the common corridor, where all the lockers are.
“You’re not supposed to say sorry though,” he says and Kyungsoo knots his eyebrows at him in question. He returns the stare, bobbing his head left and right, waiting for the obvious answer he has in mind but Kyungsoo doesn’t get the hint. "Well, a gesture of courtesy?” he sighs.
“Uh, thank you?” Kyungsoo squints his eyes at him.
“Jongin.” He firmly says. “And you’re welcome, Kyungsoo,” he smiles at him before he heads out to his next class.
Kyungsoo steps in front of Jongin before he could leave. “Wait. What do you mean?” Kyungsoo surely knows what Jongin means but he wants to hear it from him. His fingers fiddle with the loose strap of his backpack as he tries to stare at Jongin, which he’s having a hard time for his eyes dart at the emptying corridor and the glorious clavicle protruding against the beautifully tanned skin, exposed from the loose muscle tee.
“I really meant to help you earlier. No need to make a fuss about it,” Jongin smiles again and Kyungsoo’s stare softens. “Just study harder for stoich.”
Kyungsoo purses his lips and nods. They part at the end of the corridor; Kyungsoo heading downstairs to the physics lab and Jongin to the gym.
♦♦♦
Where Kyungsoo studies, the greenery is a sorry excuse for the barren land. It's often cramped and humid with the autumn leaves and dried grass leaving brown patches on the ground. Even so, Kyungsoo prefers to spend his time outside when he’s not pigging himself in the cafeteria. No, he’s not handling a racket and wallops the tennis ball like the anime he writes fiction of. He’s not one of the people who sweat in between hours. Kyungsoo is that introverted kid who scribbles in his little notebook and sits on the concrete bench, shaded by a clump of trees.
Kyungsoo doesn’t mind to deal with the stings of the soft afternoon light, creeping down the gaps of branches and leaves. It feels peaceful here and most of the time little drabbles come upon his mind to his paper; may it be writing about the dreary dull scenery of the faded and scuffed paint on the walls of the campus or the vivid sports life right across him, where there are students who frequently play against each other to shoot the basketball in the ring. Their tops most often than not untucked and unbuttoned and some prefer to play with their undershirts.
The second bell rings and Kyungsoo rushes back inside the campus. He makes it right on time, sparing a few more minutes until their teacher, who has a routine of cleaning the lenses of his eyeglasses for five minutes as the unlucky student seated right next the door, checks the class attendance. But today, that student is absent, so the person next to him is the one assigned to tick off the names on the list and that person is Kyungsoo.
He recites the names out loud and in some moments where the banters at the back overlaps with his voice, he repeats for a few times until the tattle tongues are tied and the rowdy students give their attention to him. The names are familiar for some of them were once his friends when they were in their younger years but high school completely changes the entity of a person; their circle of friends, their study habits, their choice of clothing and their attitude. While they say this is the moment to break out from your shell, Kyungsoo curls to mediocre literature and silence; shutting off most of his social life.
Kyungsoo doesn’t mean to do it. He’s not a bullied kid nor do they consider him being weird or a nerd. Kyungsoo is just being Kyungsoo; who enjoys the shorter end of the attention. He knows people and there are people who know him. For example, Kim Ryeowook from Trigonometry class knows him and has asked for help several times in graphing logarithmic functions. There are also these two lower classmen who sits on the same cafeteria table as him and then there’s Jongin.
Jongin knows Kyungsoo but Kyungsoo doesn’t really know Jongin.
“Kim Heechul, Shim Changmin,” Kyungsoo clears his throat and Changmin hides the bag of chips back in his bag. “Park Chanyeol.”
Kyungsoo’s lip twitches as his eyes fall on the next name he’s about to say. “Byun Baekhyun.” He looks at the person at the third row. He’s the kid who knows everybody and everybody knows him. It’s because he’s likeable and the air around him is light and easygoing. He’s the ideal type of friend, the ideal type of person to be. This is Baekhyun, a fine example of someone who knows his circle of friends well.
How Kyungsoo knows this? He just does, like everybody does as well.
♦♦♦
Kyungsoo fastens the t-square on his drawing table. He seldomly uses the said tool because the lines become a lot more crooked when he does, in his perspective. He questions himself why did he choose this subject when he knows that he has zero touch for art and a horrible sense of proportion, which both are very important in technical drawing.
In a speck of a minute, Kyungsoo hums as he remembers the upperclassmen of theirs who lured a lot of students in putting this subject in their schedule. They said this is a lot easier compared to the traditional art class. Believing them, Kyungsoo is one of those poor kids who got pushed to their doom. He peers to his left, looking at the familiar faces back in enrollment day.They’re sullen and serious, similar to Kyungsoo’s and he grins to himself as he places the triangle to the farthest right of the plate.
“Did you get how to center this thing?” Jongin leans towards Kyungsoo, whose concentration on the proper alignment is abruptly disturbed.
"No, not yet. My first one got too close to the margin," Kyungsoo says and brings out the compass from his bag. "I think this one will be alright."
Jongin nods in understanding when he measured Kyungsoo's spacing on his plate and starts to work on his own.
Their conversations primarily goes on a steady pace with nothing but academics or how to draw this and that. Sometimes before the chemistry class starts, Jongin would check on Kyungsoo's homework before they submit it to make sure he's correct and it's the same way for technical drawing. Every now and then, Kyungsoo will ask how much Jongin has finished and the conversation will end there.
Silence would fill the empty spaces of nonsensical questions Jongin has in mind. Does Kyungsoo listen to Green Day or P!ATD? Has he ever heard of Blink 182's music? How does he maintain his spot in the top 10 when he ultimately sucks in Chemistry? What product does he use on his skin? Does he use concealer to hide his pores?
Jongin speaks none of it because Kyungsoo seems to be not the type to be bothered; with a phone or often with a pen and notebook on hand. They're too busy to exchange personal words in classes, when they're stuck up students listening to the lecture.
Jongin has many things to be curious about, but that's all there is to that.
♦♦♦
Kyungsoo visits the site where he updates the fiction every now and then. He posts the one-shot he finished yesterday and decides to peek at the orange dotted message icon. He doesn’t expect much but a feeling inside him does; that at least people would give a constructed opinion about his work. Even if it’s a good or bad one, Kyungsoo doesn’t mind as long as he knows there are people who likes reading the fiction he creates.
There’s a warm quake in his chest as there are five unopened messages welcome him when the tab finished loading. A soft smile plays along his lips whilst he reads his messages. One by one, he responds with a long reply of appreciation, even if they’re brief comments. Kyungsoo is grateful for every word of it.
Once the laptop shuts down, Kyungsoo puts it away on the desk. He pulls his backpack up the bed and flips through the calendar and marks the dates plotted on his reminders list. His face becomes cold as he notices the deadlines for the projects are of the same dates, if not all, at least three of it. Quizzes also pile up in the following days and also the following week. Kyungsoo looks over the apple green notebook at the very back of his books--his fiction notebook. He hesitantly takes it out and quickly locks it on the drawer of his desk.
Kyungsoo will not afford to slack off now and most especially trip over that sick Chemistry subject.
♦♦♦
“Did you do well?” Jongin asks as he borrows the eraser lying on Kyungsoo’s table.
Kyungsoo doesn’t reply. He has his eyes not in ease, making sure that the triangle is properly placed above the t-square before he draws the line. Jongin glances at him and mumbles a soft ‘sorry’ and continues his own plate.
“Oh, do you mean the chem quiz? I think I’ll ace it,” he smugly says and retrieves the compass from its case. Jongin’s grip on his pencil loosens and he stares at Kyungsoo, not in disbelief but of astonishment from the confident words of his because even Jongin found the exam quite challenging. “What?” Kyungsoo returns the stare and grabs the eraser to remove the crooked line.
“Nothing,” Jongin looks away and raises the t-square higher on the table. “You must’ve studied a lot since it’s quite easy for you. And,to think you were having a hard time with the subject not a long while ago.” Jongin grins to himself as he puts his final touches on the plate, drawing the guidelines to where he should put the labels.
“Is it not easy?”Kyungsoo asks, sounding surprised himself.
Jongin’s grin becomes wider and he shakes his head. “Nope. It’s very far from easy.”
Kyungsoo blinks and returns his attention to his plate. “Wow. Damn. I must’ve sound so arrogant,” he laughs lightly. “I’m sorry.”
“No. No. You’re just being honest,” he says and peels of the adhesive tape on the plate. Proud, that should be the right term. Jongin thinks.
“What, you’re done?” Kyungsoo looks at Jongin, who’s dusting off his table of eraser remains. “Which parts did you not put the dimensions?” He scoots closer to him to take notes of where should he and should not put numbers on.
“This part is the same with here. No need to put this dimension for the other side,” Kyungsoo listens attentively but his cheeks grow warmer as Jongin’s scent--masculine, rich and attractive--blurs his senses. Kyungsoo finds himself sniffing Jongin, only centimeters away from him. “That’s it. And the labels are also required,” Jongin points at the board, where the reminders are written.
Kyungsoo nods and pulls his stool, where it’s placed earlier. He pats his face with his cool palms to relieve them from the pooling heat on his skin.
“Thank you, Jongin,” he says and proceeds to finish his plate.
♦♦♦
Kyungsoo doesn’t dismiss the fact that he got flustered around Jongin but he doesn’t stumble upon it as much as he thought he should. They’re just seatmates after all. Plus, he really doesn’t have the time at the moment to ponder about it, with all the academic necessities burying him to burn extra hours in the night to study and accomplish tasks in an inhumane span of time. He doesn’t even flip the pages of his fiction notebook as much as he used to. The notebook is probably filmed with layers of dust by now.
“Pair yourselves in five minutes. The topic and order of reporting would be by draw lots.” Almost everyone starts switching seats. The people from the back row somehow got to the first row and it’s chaos of who’s partnered with who; with also some mildly cursing of getting the lesser difficult topic and rock paper scissors of who should draw from the box.
Kyungsoo just sits patiently with his head worlds away from the havoc residing in the classroom. His face almost drops on the desk for a split second for he’s half asleep and half awake, waiting for their teacher to call out who doesn’t have partners so he could be finally paired up. Kyungsoo doesn’t mind to be with someone he’s not really comfortable with or someone who’ll ditch his responsibilities and stack it up on Kyungsoo. He's not a team player anyway so he could only care less.
He feels a warm hand lightly shaking his left shoulder. Kyungsoo can say he’s finally awake now from that continuous disturbance.
“Can we be partners?” Kyungsoo eyes him. He has this auburn hair, dyed fairly, complementing his skin that seems too bright from the sun and fluorescent light touching his face. “We’ve been in some classes before. You’re Kyungsoo, right?”
“And you’re Baekhyun,” he finishes.
“How’d you know?” Kyungsoo might’ve rolled his eyes when Baekhyun asked that.
“You may return that question to yourself,” he says and Baekhyun laughs. It’s a light hearted one, with Baekhyun’s eyes curling up into magnificent crescents and his pearl white teeth brimming with amusement.
Kyungsoo didn't intend to sound funny and he doesn’t even think that what he said is a joke. He refrains himself from barfing due to Baekhyun’s refreshing air but Baekhyun is indeed what they say he is. No, he’s not a plastic sugar coated person as Kyungsoo thought he would be; judging from what almost seem like perfect compliments he has heard about him through the time. He’s a good-natured ray of sunshine; pleasant and delicate. Kyungsoo doesn’t mind to be friends with Baekhyun.
Soon, probably, Kyungsoo hopes they will.
Baekhyun draws a rolled strip of paper from the cardboard box being passed around the classroom. A big sigh of relief escapes Kyungsoo’s lips once he unveils the content of the strip, revealing the topic and the fact that they’d be the seventh to present.
The class gets to be dismissed earlier than expected. Kyungsoo bids goodbye to Baekhyun as they part in the middle of the corridor.
♦♦♦
Kyungsoo drops three coins in the vending machine slot as he balances a heavy tray with his right hand. The line in the cafeteria seems to be of a blockbuster movie, twin lines splitting to snake on the parallel walls of the room. The vast expanse buzz in afflictive chatters, simultaneous noises of utensils and once in a while there would be yelling over someone who shamelessly cuts the line.
Where Kyungsoo sits, he’s often surrounded with people that are only familiar faces to him for he doesn’t actually talk to them. It’s a long stretch, located in the middle of the cafeteria, where people who don’t associate themselves in cliques gather. True enough, it’s a convention of loners and friends who come in twos or threes and frequently vacant seats.
There are many names flocked in Kyungsoo’s head as he munches on his lunch; his rice bowl arching on the tip of his nose, shadowing his eyes as he stares at the lower class men, who Kyungsoo, most of the time overhears their conversation. Thus, he does know their knows their names when Junmyeon includes cusses with Jongdae’s name as the latter would sip from the juicebox that’s definitely not his. Well, there are times Kyungsoo does sit a bit more closely to eavesdrop, which he deems as bad but good enough to be entertaining.
“Damn. I can’t believe my baby boy is finally a grown man,” Junmyeon squeals in joy as he hugs Jongdae. He keeps on blabbering questions concerning Jongdae and his new profound love life, which Jongdae answers in briefly stamped statements, hoping that Junmyeon would take the hint to stop. Well, Junmyeon nagging is continuous.
Kyungsoo hides the giggle at the bottom of his throat while he eats, finishing the crab salad that's left on his tray. His attention wanders at the opposite end of the table as a new kid sits quietly with a book pitched on his hand; focus can't be pried from the paper bounded of fantasies.
Kyungsoo scoots closer, dragging the tray as quietly as he could. Kyungsoo knows the person reading the book. How could he not? It's the same lean yet built frame who towers over him even as they're only on chairs. But, he has a tender smile that would often appear as he speak.
"Hey," Kyungsoo grins.
Jongin looks up and nods. Then there's this silly toothy smile sprawls upon his lips as he mouth 'hello' and he goes back to what he's doing.
Kyungsoo can't refrain from darting his attention away from his food. He eats but his mind shapes around Jongin. He drops his cutleries and asks, “So, what are you doing?” Kyungsoo clears his throat as Jongin fails to reply.
It’s about a minute of delay when Jongin lowers his book. “I don’t know. Watching porn? Maybe,” he grins and Kyungsoo chokes out of nothing then immediately grabs the juicebox. “What? Are you like seven?” Jongin laughs at him when Kyungsoo’s face is doused with a deep splash of red, reaching the sides of his neck and ears.
Kyungsoo knows that Jongin is reading when Jongin tilted the book towards him, showing no glimpse of a phone hidden on the center of the pages yet he’s still surprised by the sudden mention of the word ‘porn.’ Maybe Jongin is right. Maybe Kyungsoo’s still seven- his maturity, that is.
Kyungsoo catches bits of words from the paragraph like Elrond, Rivendell and Strider, which makes him giddy and like bulbs, his eyes lights up in enthusiasm. “Lord of the Rings!” Kyungsoo half squeals and half yells, making people from several tables glance at their direction.
“You’ve read the book?” Jongin’s eyebrows perk up in surprise, a wider smile graces upon his lips.
Kyungsoo shakes his head and Jongin drops a pout in dismay. “I watched the trilogy though,” he points out. “And also the prequel.”
“Martin Freeman made a good Bilbo Baggins,” Jongin comments then flips the page to the next.
“And a good John Watson,” Kyungsoo adds and sips the remains of his juice.
“Johnlock.”
“Freebatch.”
“Sherlock,” Kyungsoo snickers and crunches the box with his hand.
“We’re Sherlocked,”Jongin inserts the bookmark and pushes the book aside. He mindlessly stares at Kyungsoo for some time as the latter excuses himself to return the tray.
Jongin can’t think more jokes after that.
♦♦♦
And they meet again in the same place the next day. Kyungsoo spots him immediately because of the neon snapback with the word 'BO$$' fixated in glaring metallic letters, lying next to a tray of untouched food. He couldn't possibly miss that. The cap, not the food. Kyungsoo means.
The thin juncture, which Jongin locks his fingers on doubles, and his attention on the words is still unparalleled as ever- even more intense compared to the first time they're given a problem set about balancing equations. Kyungsoo clears his throat and puts down his tray.
"So, you're waiting on a friend?" Kyungsoo starts, stares a while at the unfazed bookworm before him.
Jongin suddenly looks up and their eyes meet for a second. Kyungsoo feels heat coursing his ears and at the back of his neck, causing him look down and swiftly chugs half of the water bottle. "What made you say that?" Jongin closes the book and sets it aside. Kyungsoo, well Kyungsoo continues stuffing himself with the salad he bought from the local salad bar.
Jongin keeps his gaze on him until he finishes food, or at least the one in the disposable tupperware. Kyungsoo finds the situation uneasy, especially when someone's looking at him while eating. His toes are curling at the edge of his shoes and he can't help biting the inside of his cheek out of awkwardness.
Kyungsoo though, does a great job of shaking it off when he finally sets aside the plastic tub with the chopsticks then dabs his lips with a napkin. "Uh...you do not eat here often. I mean here in this table."
"So I'm not allowed here?" Jongin jokes and subtly laughs.
"No. How do you say this," Kyungsoo glances to his left and right, checking if anybody's listening. Kyungsoo moves closer and cautiously whispers, "this place is for loners."
Kyungsoo expects a glum look on Jongin's face but Jongin only grins with the a hint of dismay. "You’re not a loner,” Jongin says softly. “I’m here with you.”
The distance between them is short and constricted. The air is tight and Kyungsoo helps himself not to breathe because if he does, he might get more intoxicated with Jongin’s cologne and Jongin. He tries not to look yet he does, at the majestic heaven sent beauty and Jongin. He dares not to feel but he does and it’s warm in his chest; soothing like a soft flame in a fireplace.
Kyungsoo snaps. “Stop being cheesy,” he lightly hits him on the arm then flees to return his tray.
♦♦♦
Jongin stows away his triangles in his bag and unclasps his t-square. Kyungsoo isn’t doing the same yet, for he’s still rushing to label the remaining dimensions for his practical test.
“Done!” Kyungsoo exclaims and quickly scraps the tape off the plate then runs towards the door before their teacher exits.
Kyungsoo sighs in relief when he sits down from the buzzer beater sprint he made earlier. More importantly, now the exam week is over, he can finally write his fiction again. He can’t wait to blow the dust off his laptop and type out the ideas he refrains himself from pondering in between classes.
“Quite a race back there, huh?”
“Sort of.” Kyungsoo slides his t-square back to its confinement and Jongin hands him his compass.
“Thanks,” he says. Jongin waits until Kyungsoo zips his pencil case and the obnoxious flock of students in the corridor mellow before they left the room.
Somewhere in the moment of walking to their lockers, Jongin’s stomach churns in hunger that makes Kyungsoo laugh a bit louder than he should. Then, they chat about the repetitive viands on the cafeteria menu and what type of pasta should they go for today. As usual, Jongin carries another Lord of the Rings book with him today, this time it’s the second one.
“I think I may be a loner now,” Jongin brings it up as they’re waiting in line.
“Yet you were denying it the last time,” Kyungsoo grins then passes a tray to Jongin.
“I didn’t say I’m not,” he flatly replies and Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at him. “But now I think I am.”
“What made you say that? I mean…” Kyungsoo’s ears flares in a bright pink and he rummages through his pockets for his wallet-a valid excuse for not looking at him when he says, “I’m here with you anyway.”
“As if this wasn’t the thing that I said back then,” Jongin snorts.
They make their way to the familiar spot they dine in. They’re squared with tables, in the middle of the cafeteria. When everybody’s shouting his lungs out to reply to the person in front of him, this table lives in whispers and soft rebuts but mostly, the noise of the cutleries on the plate and nothing in between. There’s an obnoxious laugh coming from their right, which make Kyungsoo grimace a little as he twirls his fork on the pasta.
“Well, are you not going to answer?”
There’s an extended sound of Jongin sipping from his juice box and he stares a big ‘what’ at Kyungsoo’s face.
“What made you say that you’re now officially a loner like me?” Kyungsoo pops the straw in the juice box. “I mean not right now since I’m with you but you get the point,” he laughs and he knows it’s awkward for it’s not really something funny.
“Uh, you know that everybody’s a friend of Baekhyun but not everybody’s Baekhyun friend,” Jongin plays around the empty juice box, hitting it with his index finger to fall over next to the napkins. “I’m sort of his close friend but I just don’t like the circle of friends we have on the table. Simple as that.”
“Okay. So you sort of moved away for that reason?” Kyungsoo stabs the garlic bread with his fork and Jongin just nods. “Go over there now. Tell it to him.” Kyungsoo stuffs Jongin’s mouth with half of the garlic bread. “Don’t mess your friendship because you’re a goddamned pussy for not saying it.”
Jongin swallows the bread and he’s kicked on the shin for not standing up right away. “Okay okay fine! I’m going jeez,” Jongin stuffs Kyungsoo’s mouth with the garlic bread left on his plate. “If you’re giving this kind of advice, why do you still hang by yourself though?” Jongin asks but he’s kicked on the leg again for still not going to his original table.
I don’t know as well, Kyungsoo thinks.
♦♦♦
The entrance exams for college are closing in and every conversation Kyungsoo overhears is about it. It’s either they’re studying every recess in the library, being tortured in cram school or they’re just waiting their failure. There’s also this frequent question of ‘what course are you taking’ over and over and Kyungsoo is tired of answering ‘I don’t know yet’ every time someone asks him or he makes up an imaginary future of himself when the teacher points his attention at him.
Then, there’s this proud teacher in English class, that can’t stop talking about the kid from the earlier section she teaches. She keeps on saying that she’s amazed that this kid will take up literature since it’s something rare for the younger generation to be interested in. She babbles all about the wonders of the course, almost explaining her whole biography once again but the name catches Kyungsoo’s ears.
“Am I right? He’s name is Kim Jongin not Jong Il?” Kyungsoo’s smile appears in an instant and he brings out the fiction notebook from his bag.
Kyungsoo has written a lot that day.
♦♦♦
Jongin’s heart almost jumps out his chest when Kyungsoo shook him as soon as he got out of Math class. “How’d you know I’m here?”
“I don’t know. I might’ve stumbled upon Baekhyun during history class and kind of begged your schedule. I’m so happy that you guys finally resolved it,” Kyungsoo grins and eventually it fades. “I’m a creeper. I know. I’m sorry but I also heard you’re pursuing lit.”
Jongin stares at Kyungsoo in disbelief. “Well, how on earth did you know about that?”
“I think we have the same English teacher, who shares a lot,” Kyungsoo holds back his laughter because Jongin looks like he’s about to skin someone alive with his nails. “She’s proud of you though,” he points out. “I’m glad you already know what you want.”
Jongin notices Kyungsoo’s sullen face as they walk to their lockers. “Have you not decided yet?”
Kyungsoo nods and stares at the edges of his marred locker. “Can you help me with something?” he pulls out a black notebook behind his books.
“Sure. Why not?” Jongin smiles at him.
“Can you proofread this? I know it’s not much,” Kyungsoo laughs and feels the cold creeping on his fingertips, knowing that Jongin may probably judge him because of this. “But as soon as I knew you’re pursuing lit I thought you may check if my writing is any good?”
“Okay I’ll return this soon,” Jongin says and Kyungsoo doubts about his non-existent college choices are suddenly insignificant.
♦♦♦
“Your writing is okay. Good grammar and structure,” Jongin comments. “But the characterization lacks that oomf, you know,” he returns the notebook to Kyungsoo and when Kyungsoo opened, it’s like a catastrophic ink made bloodbath. “But hey, I’m no expert,” he leans closer and jabs his finger on the page. “Still, I know you can do better than this.”
Kyungsoo keeps on nodding all throughout Jongin explaining the changes he thinks that would make the story better and it surprises Kyungsoo that Jongin hasn’t made a remark about his odd addiction to this tennis anime he’s writing about. Some points were harsh like when Jongin said that there are certain moments that are rushed yet Kyungsoo believes that they deserved the proper allotment he made.
Still, Kyungsoo listens and takes Jongin’s advice. Then the next time Jongin comes across the cafeteria they often ate at, Kyungsoo isn’t there. He’s back in his place of solitude, under that clump of evergreen trees he misses so much.
Jongin finds him, in the middle of the greenery like a lost little flower but Jongin doesn’t pick the flower and only admires him from afar.
♦♦♦
It’s in the middle of the semester and Kyungsoo groans with the stupid hangover from Baekhyun’s farewell party last night. And on a daily basis, he check the site he still posts fiction on. But, it’s not fanfiction anymore. It’s just a simple, good, old fashioned fiction written from the heart.
“Holy shit,” Kyungsoo mumbles after the page finished loading. “Holy shit Jongin wake up.”
“Can that wait until next year?” Jongin turns and drapes himself with his blanket.
“No, it can’t. Our story got featured on the front page. At the very top at that!” Kyungsoo grabs the blanket off Jongin. “I said we got featured!”
“Yes,” Jongin sighs. “And next time that feature would be an actual published book on the shelves.” He pulls Kyungsoo back in the bed.
“Let’s graduate first.”
“No, sleep first.”
❊ title: it starts with an 'f'
❊ pairings: kai/d.o
❊ rating: pg13
❊ word count: ~5.8k
❊ summary: a bond is tied a lot simpler than it seems
❊ a/n: I apologize
Talent begins in a coiled mass of interest and dedication with nothing in between. Self-doubt is not prancing in the blurry twisted lines because the kids are yet to care of what they are and what they’re capable of. They carry the tales of wizards and spells, or the high flyer that attacks and defends the ball with precision and persistence, as their muse to continue--and in some way, become like them.
But, not all talents bloom with flourished petals and honey-suckled nectars of potential. Some grow to be fragrant and vividly splashed with nature; those are flowers, that are sun-kissed with care, are the ones that get the attention and appreciation. Then there are some that remains to be hidden under the basking tender light and are left unnoticed to wither.
Like all talents, Kyungsoo begins in the coils, centered in animated high school tennis players.
♦♦♦
Kyungsoo lightly taps the mechanical pencil on the drawing table. It’s technical drawing again and he couldn’t care much what his teacher says about pinning the compass on what end of the horizontal line to make a perfect square--as if using a ruler is not enough(which they say isn’t.) His eyes flee towards the tip of the lead tip chipped off from too much beating against the rectangle wood, with inked pores, Blink 182 lyrics written on the topmost corner and drawings of genitals that comes with color variations.
Ideas come swift like bullets just from gawking on the said pencil. He quickly disposes the plate, flaked thin of erasures and writes at the back of it. Kyungsoo’s handwriting is sloppy and hurried because getting caught scribbling bits of tennis players growling their 'special moves' is the last thing he'd want to pee stinky embarrassment all over his pants.
Kyungsoo doesn't daydream the whole outline of the fiction he has in mind. He plots scene after scene with asterisks and parentheses; vaguely tracked transitions and primarily wrapped around the main idea of it.
"Hey, hey do you know how to do the hexagon one?" Kyungsoo flinches at the curt question by his seatmate.
Kyungsoo swiftly slides the plate under the table and tapes a new one. "Do you?" He grins and points at the empty plate before him.
His seatmate laughs and writes a question mark on the part where the hexagon should be drawn. Kyungsoo laughs with him and places another huge question mark, occupying the whole plate.
♦♦♦
Kyungsoo spins the pen on his thumb for the third consecutive time. The fourth one clacks along the ivory tiles of the laboratory. The sixth one gets his favorite pen confiscated for causing a fuss with too much clattering on the floor.
His latest fiction didn't get the response he thought it would. Kyungsoo has confidence that the material he's creating is good and non-stereotypical as the others he comes across with everytime he logs in and checks the Prince of Tennis tag. It bothers him how these top to bottom banal characterizations and poorly laid plots get the utmost love from readers, giving rave reviews.
Or maybe Kyungsoo doesn't fully grasp the hype of fan fiction at all.
Kyungsoo sighs at the stoichiometry problem, roughly 8 lines filling the one-half bond paper questionnaire handed out ten minutes ago. He knows how to solve this problem. He’s sure of it for their chemistry teacher has given them five similar examples just with the different digits.
Kyungsoo’s palms become glossed in sweat and frigid panic as the fear of automatic five mistakes just by missing this problem washes over him. His throat constricts and the cold creeps like needles simultaneously being pressed upon his shoulder. Time is ticking and Kyungsoo gulps when their teacher changes the minutes on the chalkboard to ten.
Then there is this repetitive sound of plastic against wood; slow two taps and fast four ones, as if it’s an attempt of calling Kyungsoo’s attention but he doesn’t turn. The soft beats become more rapid and annoying. Soon enough Kyungsoo slyly peers behind his folder and glances at the capped end of the pen, continuously tapping on the exposed scratch paper.
‘M’
And the pen tapping stops.
The first bell rings and all the papers are passed to the furthest left before they're sent to the front. Kyungsoo is relieved when he saw his seatmate’s paper, having the same final answer as him. Thankfully, their chemistry teacher didn’t catch them (since he’s busy with his phone) or else Kyungsoo will be dead--literally dead.
“You’re the one in Technical Drawing class,” Kyungsoo begins as he fully sees the familiar face, who slings the plaid jansport on his left shoulder.
“Yeah. I’m surprised you only recognized me now,” he grins and makes his way to the door.
Kyungsoo blushes. "Oh. I'm sorry and uh," he clears his throat and follows him. "I kind of peeked," he trails off as the door shuts with a gust towards his back. "On your scratch paper,” he finishes and expects a glum look on his seatmate’s face. Kyungsoo swiftly looks away and tightly clutches the strap of his bag. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I won’t do it again. I promise. Please don’t tell on me.” His voice cracks in the middle. Anxiety is ripping bubbles at the top of his throat as they make their way to the common corridor, where all the lockers are.
“You’re not supposed to say sorry though,” he says and Kyungsoo knots his eyebrows at him in question. He returns the stare, bobbing his head left and right, waiting for the obvious answer he has in mind but Kyungsoo doesn’t get the hint. "Well, a gesture of courtesy?” he sighs.
“Uh, thank you?” Kyungsoo squints his eyes at him.
“Jongin.” He firmly says. “And you’re welcome, Kyungsoo,” he smiles at him before he heads out to his next class.
Kyungsoo steps in front of Jongin before he could leave. “Wait. What do you mean?” Kyungsoo surely knows what Jongin means but he wants to hear it from him. His fingers fiddle with the loose strap of his backpack as he tries to stare at Jongin, which he’s having a hard time for his eyes dart at the emptying corridor and the glorious clavicle protruding against the beautifully tanned skin, exposed from the loose muscle tee.
“I really meant to help you earlier. No need to make a fuss about it,” Jongin smiles again and Kyungsoo’s stare softens. “Just study harder for stoich.”
Kyungsoo purses his lips and nods. They part at the end of the corridor; Kyungsoo heading downstairs to the physics lab and Jongin to the gym.
♦♦♦
Where Kyungsoo studies, the greenery is a sorry excuse for the barren land. It's often cramped and humid with the autumn leaves and dried grass leaving brown patches on the ground. Even so, Kyungsoo prefers to spend his time outside when he’s not pigging himself in the cafeteria. No, he’s not handling a racket and wallops the tennis ball like the anime he writes fiction of. He’s not one of the people who sweat in between hours. Kyungsoo is that introverted kid who scribbles in his little notebook and sits on the concrete bench, shaded by a clump of trees.
Kyungsoo doesn’t mind to deal with the stings of the soft afternoon light, creeping down the gaps of branches and leaves. It feels peaceful here and most of the time little drabbles come upon his mind to his paper; may it be writing about the dreary dull scenery of the faded and scuffed paint on the walls of the campus or the vivid sports life right across him, where there are students who frequently play against each other to shoot the basketball in the ring. Their tops most often than not untucked and unbuttoned and some prefer to play with their undershirts.
The second bell rings and Kyungsoo rushes back inside the campus. He makes it right on time, sparing a few more minutes until their teacher, who has a routine of cleaning the lenses of his eyeglasses for five minutes as the unlucky student seated right next the door, checks the class attendance. But today, that student is absent, so the person next to him is the one assigned to tick off the names on the list and that person is Kyungsoo.
He recites the names out loud and in some moments where the banters at the back overlaps with his voice, he repeats for a few times until the tattle tongues are tied and the rowdy students give their attention to him. The names are familiar for some of them were once his friends when they were in their younger years but high school completely changes the entity of a person; their circle of friends, their study habits, their choice of clothing and their attitude. While they say this is the moment to break out from your shell, Kyungsoo curls to mediocre literature and silence; shutting off most of his social life.
Kyungsoo doesn’t mean to do it. He’s not a bullied kid nor do they consider him being weird or a nerd. Kyungsoo is just being Kyungsoo; who enjoys the shorter end of the attention. He knows people and there are people who know him. For example, Kim Ryeowook from Trigonometry class knows him and has asked for help several times in graphing logarithmic functions. There are also these two lower classmen who sits on the same cafeteria table as him and then there’s Jongin.
Jongin knows Kyungsoo but Kyungsoo doesn’t really know Jongin.
“Kim Heechul, Shim Changmin,” Kyungsoo clears his throat and Changmin hides the bag of chips back in his bag. “Park Chanyeol.”
Kyungsoo’s lip twitches as his eyes fall on the next name he’s about to say. “Byun Baekhyun.” He looks at the person at the third row. He’s the kid who knows everybody and everybody knows him. It’s because he’s likeable and the air around him is light and easygoing. He’s the ideal type of friend, the ideal type of person to be. This is Baekhyun, a fine example of someone who knows his circle of friends well.
How Kyungsoo knows this? He just does, like everybody does as well.
♦♦♦
Kyungsoo fastens the t-square on his drawing table. He seldomly uses the said tool because the lines become a lot more crooked when he does, in his perspective. He questions himself why did he choose this subject when he knows that he has zero touch for art and a horrible sense of proportion, which both are very important in technical drawing.
In a speck of a minute, Kyungsoo hums as he remembers the upperclassmen of theirs who lured a lot of students in putting this subject in their schedule. They said this is a lot easier compared to the traditional art class. Believing them, Kyungsoo is one of those poor kids who got pushed to their doom. He peers to his left, looking at the familiar faces back in enrollment day.They’re sullen and serious, similar to Kyungsoo’s and he grins to himself as he places the triangle to the farthest right of the plate.
“Did you get how to center this thing?” Jongin leans towards Kyungsoo, whose concentration on the proper alignment is abruptly disturbed.
"No, not yet. My first one got too close to the margin," Kyungsoo says and brings out the compass from his bag. "I think this one will be alright."
Jongin nods in understanding when he measured Kyungsoo's spacing on his plate and starts to work on his own.
Their conversations primarily goes on a steady pace with nothing but academics or how to draw this and that. Sometimes before the chemistry class starts, Jongin would check on Kyungsoo's homework before they submit it to make sure he's correct and it's the same way for technical drawing. Every now and then, Kyungsoo will ask how much Jongin has finished and the conversation will end there.
Silence would fill the empty spaces of nonsensical questions Jongin has in mind. Does Kyungsoo listen to Green Day or P!ATD? Has he ever heard of Blink 182's music? How does he maintain his spot in the top 10 when he ultimately sucks in Chemistry? What product does he use on his skin? Does he use concealer to hide his pores?
Jongin speaks none of it because Kyungsoo seems to be not the type to be bothered; with a phone or often with a pen and notebook on hand. They're too busy to exchange personal words in classes, when they're stuck up students listening to the lecture.
Jongin has many things to be curious about, but that's all there is to that.
♦♦♦
Kyungsoo visits the site where he updates the fiction every now and then. He posts the one-shot he finished yesterday and decides to peek at the orange dotted message icon. He doesn’t expect much but a feeling inside him does; that at least people would give a constructed opinion about his work. Even if it’s a good or bad one, Kyungsoo doesn’t mind as long as he knows there are people who likes reading the fiction he creates.
There’s a warm quake in his chest as there are five unopened messages welcome him when the tab finished loading. A soft smile plays along his lips whilst he reads his messages. One by one, he responds with a long reply of appreciation, even if they’re brief comments. Kyungsoo is grateful for every word of it.
Once the laptop shuts down, Kyungsoo puts it away on the desk. He pulls his backpack up the bed and flips through the calendar and marks the dates plotted on his reminders list. His face becomes cold as he notices the deadlines for the projects are of the same dates, if not all, at least three of it. Quizzes also pile up in the following days and also the following week. Kyungsoo looks over the apple green notebook at the very back of his books--his fiction notebook. He hesitantly takes it out and quickly locks it on the drawer of his desk.
Kyungsoo will not afford to slack off now and most especially trip over that sick Chemistry subject.
♦♦♦
“Did you do well?” Jongin asks as he borrows the eraser lying on Kyungsoo’s table.
Kyungsoo doesn’t reply. He has his eyes not in ease, making sure that the triangle is properly placed above the t-square before he draws the line. Jongin glances at him and mumbles a soft ‘sorry’ and continues his own plate.
“Oh, do you mean the chem quiz? I think I’ll ace it,” he smugly says and retrieves the compass from its case. Jongin’s grip on his pencil loosens and he stares at Kyungsoo, not in disbelief but of astonishment from the confident words of his because even Jongin found the exam quite challenging. “What?” Kyungsoo returns the stare and grabs the eraser to remove the crooked line.
“Nothing,” Jongin looks away and raises the t-square higher on the table. “You must’ve studied a lot since it’s quite easy for you. And,to think you were having a hard time with the subject not a long while ago.” Jongin grins to himself as he puts his final touches on the plate, drawing the guidelines to where he should put the labels.
“Is it not easy?”Kyungsoo asks, sounding surprised himself.
Jongin’s grin becomes wider and he shakes his head. “Nope. It’s very far from easy.”
Kyungsoo blinks and returns his attention to his plate. “Wow. Damn. I must’ve sound so arrogant,” he laughs lightly. “I’m sorry.”
“No. No. You’re just being honest,” he says and peels of the adhesive tape on the plate. Proud, that should be the right term. Jongin thinks.
“What, you’re done?” Kyungsoo looks at Jongin, who’s dusting off his table of eraser remains. “Which parts did you not put the dimensions?” He scoots closer to him to take notes of where should he and should not put numbers on.
“This part is the same with here. No need to put this dimension for the other side,” Kyungsoo listens attentively but his cheeks grow warmer as Jongin’s scent--masculine, rich and attractive--blurs his senses. Kyungsoo finds himself sniffing Jongin, only centimeters away from him. “That’s it. And the labels are also required,” Jongin points at the board, where the reminders are written.
Kyungsoo nods and pulls his stool, where it’s placed earlier. He pats his face with his cool palms to relieve them from the pooling heat on his skin.
“Thank you, Jongin,” he says and proceeds to finish his plate.
♦♦♦
Kyungsoo doesn’t dismiss the fact that he got flustered around Jongin but he doesn’t stumble upon it as much as he thought he should. They’re just seatmates after all. Plus, he really doesn’t have the time at the moment to ponder about it, with all the academic necessities burying him to burn extra hours in the night to study and accomplish tasks in an inhumane span of time. He doesn’t even flip the pages of his fiction notebook as much as he used to. The notebook is probably filmed with layers of dust by now.
“Pair yourselves in five minutes. The topic and order of reporting would be by draw lots.” Almost everyone starts switching seats. The people from the back row somehow got to the first row and it’s chaos of who’s partnered with who; with also some mildly cursing of getting the lesser difficult topic and rock paper scissors of who should draw from the box.
Kyungsoo just sits patiently with his head worlds away from the havoc residing in the classroom. His face almost drops on the desk for a split second for he’s half asleep and half awake, waiting for their teacher to call out who doesn’t have partners so he could be finally paired up. Kyungsoo doesn’t mind to be with someone he’s not really comfortable with or someone who’ll ditch his responsibilities and stack it up on Kyungsoo. He's not a team player anyway so he could only care less.
He feels a warm hand lightly shaking his left shoulder. Kyungsoo can say he’s finally awake now from that continuous disturbance.
“Can we be partners?” Kyungsoo eyes him. He has this auburn hair, dyed fairly, complementing his skin that seems too bright from the sun and fluorescent light touching his face. “We’ve been in some classes before. You’re Kyungsoo, right?”
“And you’re Baekhyun,” he finishes.
“How’d you know?” Kyungsoo might’ve rolled his eyes when Baekhyun asked that.
“You may return that question to yourself,” he says and Baekhyun laughs. It’s a light hearted one, with Baekhyun’s eyes curling up into magnificent crescents and his pearl white teeth brimming with amusement.
Kyungsoo didn't intend to sound funny and he doesn’t even think that what he said is a joke. He refrains himself from barfing due to Baekhyun’s refreshing air but Baekhyun is indeed what they say he is. No, he’s not a plastic sugar coated person as Kyungsoo thought he would be; judging from what almost seem like perfect compliments he has heard about him through the time. He’s a good-natured ray of sunshine; pleasant and delicate. Kyungsoo doesn’t mind to be friends with Baekhyun.
Soon, probably, Kyungsoo hopes they will.
Baekhyun draws a rolled strip of paper from the cardboard box being passed around the classroom. A big sigh of relief escapes Kyungsoo’s lips once he unveils the content of the strip, revealing the topic and the fact that they’d be the seventh to present.
The class gets to be dismissed earlier than expected. Kyungsoo bids goodbye to Baekhyun as they part in the middle of the corridor.
♦♦♦
Kyungsoo drops three coins in the vending machine slot as he balances a heavy tray with his right hand. The line in the cafeteria seems to be of a blockbuster movie, twin lines splitting to snake on the parallel walls of the room. The vast expanse buzz in afflictive chatters, simultaneous noises of utensils and once in a while there would be yelling over someone who shamelessly cuts the line.
Where Kyungsoo sits, he’s often surrounded with people that are only familiar faces to him for he doesn’t actually talk to them. It’s a long stretch, located in the middle of the cafeteria, where people who don’t associate themselves in cliques gather. True enough, it’s a convention of loners and friends who come in twos or threes and frequently vacant seats.
There are many names flocked in Kyungsoo’s head as he munches on his lunch; his rice bowl arching on the tip of his nose, shadowing his eyes as he stares at the lower class men, who Kyungsoo, most of the time overhears their conversation. Thus, he does know their knows their names when Junmyeon includes cusses with Jongdae’s name as the latter would sip from the juicebox that’s definitely not his. Well, there are times Kyungsoo does sit a bit more closely to eavesdrop, which he deems as bad but good enough to be entertaining.
“Damn. I can’t believe my baby boy is finally a grown man,” Junmyeon squeals in joy as he hugs Jongdae. He keeps on blabbering questions concerning Jongdae and his new profound love life, which Jongdae answers in briefly stamped statements, hoping that Junmyeon would take the hint to stop. Well, Junmyeon nagging is continuous.
Kyungsoo hides the giggle at the bottom of his throat while he eats, finishing the crab salad that's left on his tray. His attention wanders at the opposite end of the table as a new kid sits quietly with a book pitched on his hand; focus can't be pried from the paper bounded of fantasies.
Kyungsoo scoots closer, dragging the tray as quietly as he could. Kyungsoo knows the person reading the book. How could he not? It's the same lean yet built frame who towers over him even as they're only on chairs. But, he has a tender smile that would often appear as he speak.
"Hey," Kyungsoo grins.
Jongin looks up and nods. Then there's this silly toothy smile sprawls upon his lips as he mouth 'hello' and he goes back to what he's doing.
Kyungsoo can't refrain from darting his attention away from his food. He eats but his mind shapes around Jongin. He drops his cutleries and asks, “So, what are you doing?” Kyungsoo clears his throat as Jongin fails to reply.
It’s about a minute of delay when Jongin lowers his book. “I don’t know. Watching porn? Maybe,” he grins and Kyungsoo chokes out of nothing then immediately grabs the juicebox. “What? Are you like seven?” Jongin laughs at him when Kyungsoo’s face is doused with a deep splash of red, reaching the sides of his neck and ears.
Kyungsoo knows that Jongin is reading when Jongin tilted the book towards him, showing no glimpse of a phone hidden on the center of the pages yet he’s still surprised by the sudden mention of the word ‘porn.’ Maybe Jongin is right. Maybe Kyungsoo’s still seven- his maturity, that is.
Kyungsoo catches bits of words from the paragraph like Elrond, Rivendell and Strider, which makes him giddy and like bulbs, his eyes lights up in enthusiasm. “Lord of the Rings!” Kyungsoo half squeals and half yells, making people from several tables glance at their direction.
“You’ve read the book?” Jongin’s eyebrows perk up in surprise, a wider smile graces upon his lips.
Kyungsoo shakes his head and Jongin drops a pout in dismay. “I watched the trilogy though,” he points out. “And also the prequel.”
“Martin Freeman made a good Bilbo Baggins,” Jongin comments then flips the page to the next.
“And a good John Watson,” Kyungsoo adds and sips the remains of his juice.
“Johnlock.”
“Freebatch.”
“Sherlock,” Kyungsoo snickers and crunches the box with his hand.
“We’re Sherlocked,”Jongin inserts the bookmark and pushes the book aside. He mindlessly stares at Kyungsoo for some time as the latter excuses himself to return the tray.
Jongin can’t think more jokes after that.
♦♦♦
And they meet again in the same place the next day. Kyungsoo spots him immediately because of the neon snapback with the word 'BO$$' fixated in glaring metallic letters, lying next to a tray of untouched food. He couldn't possibly miss that. The cap, not the food. Kyungsoo means.
The thin juncture, which Jongin locks his fingers on doubles, and his attention on the words is still unparalleled as ever- even more intense compared to the first time they're given a problem set about balancing equations. Kyungsoo clears his throat and puts down his tray.
"So, you're waiting on a friend?" Kyungsoo starts, stares a while at the unfazed bookworm before him.
Jongin suddenly looks up and their eyes meet for a second. Kyungsoo feels heat coursing his ears and at the back of his neck, causing him look down and swiftly chugs half of the water bottle. "What made you say that?" Jongin closes the book and sets it aside. Kyungsoo, well Kyungsoo continues stuffing himself with the salad he bought from the local salad bar.
Jongin keeps his gaze on him until he finishes food, or at least the one in the disposable tupperware. Kyungsoo finds the situation uneasy, especially when someone's looking at him while eating. His toes are curling at the edge of his shoes and he can't help biting the inside of his cheek out of awkwardness.
Kyungsoo though, does a great job of shaking it off when he finally sets aside the plastic tub with the chopsticks then dabs his lips with a napkin. "Uh...you do not eat here often. I mean here in this table."
"So I'm not allowed here?" Jongin jokes and subtly laughs.
"No. How do you say this," Kyungsoo glances to his left and right, checking if anybody's listening. Kyungsoo moves closer and cautiously whispers, "this place is for loners."
Kyungsoo expects a glum look on Jongin's face but Jongin only grins with the a hint of dismay. "You’re not a loner,” Jongin says softly. “I’m here with you.”
The distance between them is short and constricted. The air is tight and Kyungsoo helps himself not to breathe because if he does, he might get more intoxicated with Jongin’s cologne and Jongin. He tries not to look yet he does, at the majestic heaven sent beauty and Jongin. He dares not to feel but he does and it’s warm in his chest; soothing like a soft flame in a fireplace.
Kyungsoo snaps. “Stop being cheesy,” he lightly hits him on the arm then flees to return his tray.
♦♦♦
Jongin stows away his triangles in his bag and unclasps his t-square. Kyungsoo isn’t doing the same yet, for he’s still rushing to label the remaining dimensions for his practical test.
“Done!” Kyungsoo exclaims and quickly scraps the tape off the plate then runs towards the door before their teacher exits.
Kyungsoo sighs in relief when he sits down from the buzzer beater sprint he made earlier. More importantly, now the exam week is over, he can finally write his fiction again. He can’t wait to blow the dust off his laptop and type out the ideas he refrains himself from pondering in between classes.
“Quite a race back there, huh?”
“Sort of.” Kyungsoo slides his t-square back to its confinement and Jongin hands him his compass.
“Thanks,” he says. Jongin waits until Kyungsoo zips his pencil case and the obnoxious flock of students in the corridor mellow before they left the room.
Somewhere in the moment of walking to their lockers, Jongin’s stomach churns in hunger that makes Kyungsoo laugh a bit louder than he should. Then, they chat about the repetitive viands on the cafeteria menu and what type of pasta should they go for today. As usual, Jongin carries another Lord of the Rings book with him today, this time it’s the second one.
“I think I may be a loner now,” Jongin brings it up as they’re waiting in line.
“Yet you were denying it the last time,” Kyungsoo grins then passes a tray to Jongin.
“I didn’t say I’m not,” he flatly replies and Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at him. “But now I think I am.”
“What made you say that? I mean…” Kyungsoo’s ears flares in a bright pink and he rummages through his pockets for his wallet-a valid excuse for not looking at him when he says, “I’m here with you anyway.”
“As if this wasn’t the thing that I said back then,” Jongin snorts.
They make their way to the familiar spot they dine in. They’re squared with tables, in the middle of the cafeteria. When everybody’s shouting his lungs out to reply to the person in front of him, this table lives in whispers and soft rebuts but mostly, the noise of the cutleries on the plate and nothing in between. There’s an obnoxious laugh coming from their right, which make Kyungsoo grimace a little as he twirls his fork on the pasta.
“Well, are you not going to answer?”
There’s an extended sound of Jongin sipping from his juice box and he stares a big ‘what’ at Kyungsoo’s face.
“What made you say that you’re now officially a loner like me?” Kyungsoo pops the straw in the juice box. “I mean not right now since I’m with you but you get the point,” he laughs and he knows it’s awkward for it’s not really something funny.
“Uh, you know that everybody’s a friend of Baekhyun but not everybody’s Baekhyun friend,” Jongin plays around the empty juice box, hitting it with his index finger to fall over next to the napkins. “I’m sort of his close friend but I just don’t like the circle of friends we have on the table. Simple as that.”
“Okay. So you sort of moved away for that reason?” Kyungsoo stabs the garlic bread with his fork and Jongin just nods. “Go over there now. Tell it to him.” Kyungsoo stuffs Jongin’s mouth with half of the garlic bread. “Don’t mess your friendship because you’re a goddamned pussy for not saying it.”
Jongin swallows the bread and he’s kicked on the shin for not standing up right away. “Okay okay fine! I’m going jeez,” Jongin stuffs Kyungsoo’s mouth with the garlic bread left on his plate. “If you’re giving this kind of advice, why do you still hang by yourself though?” Jongin asks but he’s kicked on the leg again for still not going to his original table.
I don’t know as well, Kyungsoo thinks.
♦♦♦
The entrance exams for college are closing in and every conversation Kyungsoo overhears is about it. It’s either they’re studying every recess in the library, being tortured in cram school or they’re just waiting their failure. There’s also this frequent question of ‘what course are you taking’ over and over and Kyungsoo is tired of answering ‘I don’t know yet’ every time someone asks him or he makes up an imaginary future of himself when the teacher points his attention at him.
Then, there’s this proud teacher in English class, that can’t stop talking about the kid from the earlier section she teaches. She keeps on saying that she’s amazed that this kid will take up literature since it’s something rare for the younger generation to be interested in. She babbles all about the wonders of the course, almost explaining her whole biography once again but the name catches Kyungsoo’s ears.
“Am I right? He’s name is Kim Jongin not Jong Il?” Kyungsoo’s smile appears in an instant and he brings out the fiction notebook from his bag.
Kyungsoo has written a lot that day.
♦♦♦
Jongin’s heart almost jumps out his chest when Kyungsoo shook him as soon as he got out of Math class. “How’d you know I’m here?”
“I don’t know. I might’ve stumbled upon Baekhyun during history class and kind of begged your schedule. I’m so happy that you guys finally resolved it,” Kyungsoo grins and eventually it fades. “I’m a creeper. I know. I’m sorry but I also heard you’re pursuing lit.”
Jongin stares at Kyungsoo in disbelief. “Well, how on earth did you know about that?”
“I think we have the same English teacher, who shares a lot,” Kyungsoo holds back his laughter because Jongin looks like he’s about to skin someone alive with his nails. “She’s proud of you though,” he points out. “I’m glad you already know what you want.”
Jongin notices Kyungsoo’s sullen face as they walk to their lockers. “Have you not decided yet?”
Kyungsoo nods and stares at the edges of his marred locker. “Can you help me with something?” he pulls out a black notebook behind his books.
“Sure. Why not?” Jongin smiles at him.
“Can you proofread this? I know it’s not much,” Kyungsoo laughs and feels the cold creeping on his fingertips, knowing that Jongin may probably judge him because of this. “But as soon as I knew you’re pursuing lit I thought you may check if my writing is any good?”
“Okay I’ll return this soon,” Jongin says and Kyungsoo doubts about his non-existent college choices are suddenly insignificant.
♦♦♦
“Your writing is okay. Good grammar and structure,” Jongin comments. “But the characterization lacks that oomf, you know,” he returns the notebook to Kyungsoo and when Kyungsoo opened, it’s like a catastrophic ink made bloodbath. “But hey, I’m no expert,” he leans closer and jabs his finger on the page. “Still, I know you can do better than this.”
Kyungsoo keeps on nodding all throughout Jongin explaining the changes he thinks that would make the story better and it surprises Kyungsoo that Jongin hasn’t made a remark about his odd addiction to this tennis anime he’s writing about. Some points were harsh like when Jongin said that there are certain moments that are rushed yet Kyungsoo believes that they deserved the proper allotment he made.
Still, Kyungsoo listens and takes Jongin’s advice. Then the next time Jongin comes across the cafeteria they often ate at, Kyungsoo isn’t there. He’s back in his place of solitude, under that clump of evergreen trees he misses so much.
Jongin finds him, in the middle of the greenery like a lost little flower but Jongin doesn’t pick the flower and only admires him from afar.
♦♦♦
It’s in the middle of the semester and Kyungsoo groans with the stupid hangover from Baekhyun’s farewell party last night. And on a daily basis, he check the site he still posts fiction on. But, it’s not fanfiction anymore. It’s just a simple, good, old fashioned fiction written from the heart.
“Holy shit,” Kyungsoo mumbles after the page finished loading. “Holy shit Jongin wake up.”
“Can that wait until next year?” Jongin turns and drapes himself with his blanket.
“No, it can’t. Our story got featured on the front page. At the very top at that!” Kyungsoo grabs the blanket off Jongin. “I said we got featured!”
“Yes,” Jongin sighs. “And next time that feature would be an actual published book on the shelves.” He pulls Kyungsoo back in the bed.
“Let’s graduate first.”
“No, sleep first.”