War and Peace (1/1)
Title: War and Peace
Fandom: 2PM
Length: ~6000 words, oneshot.
Character/pairing: Wooho, Chansung cameo~
Ratings/warnings: PG. High school AU.
Notes: Written for sadteeth, who asked for Wooyoung the art student and Junho the soccer player and then they do stuff and become friends~! I apologise most heartily for how long it is and how it goes nowhere but ngl if anyone asks me to write an AU again I will punch them, burst into tears and then run away. Endless thanks and my firstborn to lookatmoiye7 who is patient, amazing and the best beta ever. ♥
Summary: By the end of the week, as much as Wooyoung hates to admit it, he’s starting to get used to having him around.
The drawing on the whiteboard is crude but serviceable, the shape and form of the caricature making the subject immediately apparent. Wooyoung leans in for a closer look, noting with some surprise actual skill in the shape of the eyes, the furious angle of the eyebrows. He slants a sidelong look at the man standing next to him for reference. It really is a good likeness.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Mr Jang!” Mr Peters’ face has gone an unhealthy shade of puce. “Did you draw this, this...monstrosity?!”
Wooyoung considers pulling out his sketchbook and identifying various stylistic differences between his own talents and this comparatively simple composition, but since his English teacher seems close to apoplexy, he decides it’s not the best idea.
“No,” he replies eventually, turning back to the drawing with a critical frown. “I think the artist has been influenced by modernist theory - you can see it in the sharp strokes of the hair, the bold line of the...tip.”
Mr Peters lets out a high-pitched keen like a kettle reaching the boil, and the rest of the class sink slightly into their seats. An anticipatory silence makes the air hum.
“Mr Jang, I think you did draw this,“ he pauses and takes a deep breath, which is probably for the best, because his accent comes through when he’s angry and his Korean’s been getting sloppier by the second, “thing. You should admit it now, and your punishment will be lenient.”
Wooyoung picks up a whiteboard marker and uncaps it with his teeth, bending over the drawing and touching up a few of the thinner lines. “I didn’t do it,” he repeats, talking with difficulty around the marker lid. “If I was going to draw you as a di-“
“Penis!” Mr Peters roars, spittle flying from his mouth and spattering onto Wooyoung’s cheek.
Wooyoung grimaces and wipes it off. “Penis, I certainly wouldn’t have ignored the conventions of proportion.” He recaps the marker and steps back to admire his handiwork. “This drawing takes up half the board, but going by a formal ratio you’d be much smaller.”
“Mr Jang!” Mr Peters screams. “Detention! Detention for the rest of the month! Detention forever!”
Wooyoung pockets the whiteboard marker. “I do have to point out that I’m graduating in -“
“I don’t care!” Mr Peters’ face goes from puce to scarlet and Wooyoung watches him assessingly, in case a blood vessel bursts out of his skin.
Mr Peters swallows convulsively a few times, and Wooyoung’s reminding himself to draw his remarkable expression later, when the classroom door slides open behind him and an innocent bystander steps into the fray.
“Sorry I’m late!”
Wooyoung glances over his shoulder and wonders if Lee Junho knows what he’s about to get himself into.
“Mr Lee!” Mr Peters turns slowly and pins Junho with a bulgy-eyed stare. “Where were you?”
Junho blinks and looks nervously between Wooyoung and their teacher, before his eyes settle on the picture on the whiteboard. “Oh, is that you, sir? Why are you a di-“
“Detention! For the rest of the month! Forever!”
“Sir! But-“
“You heard me!”
“Sir!”
Wooyoung takes this opportunity to wander back to his seat.
- - -
Detention is supposed to be silent work time, held for an hour after school each day in an old science classroom. The heating doesn’t work and none of the windows close properly, so Wooyoung is sure it must be an utterly miserable experience for other people.
And of course it is a bit unfair, since he didn’t draw the stupid picture in the first place (had the artist ever seen real anatomy? They took a lot of liberties with length and form) but the supervising teacher lets him keep his sketchpad. It could be worse.
There are about ten kids there in total, boys from all grade levels and one annoyed-looking first year girl who keeps muttering to herself and writing angry notes on her desk. Wooyoung wisely sits as far away from her as possible and takes a seat in the back left, next to the window. He opens his sketchbook and goes to a new page, before glancing outside for inspiration. The soccer team is practicing in an adjacent field, so he picks a player at random and starts sketching them as they play.
He’s drawn a couple of rough movement pictures when someone slumps into the seat beside him and sends his pencil careening across the page.
“Shit,” he mutters, reaching for his eraser and rubbing out the line. “Could you have been less careful?”
A hand snakes over and snatches the sketchbook away.
“Yah!” Wooyoung grabs for it but the other person is too quick. He glances up to find Junho’s eyes boring into him from beneath slitted lids, face set into what Wooyoung can only describe as an irritable pout.
“You,” Junho says, ripping the top page out of the sketchbook and tossing the rest of the pad across the room, “have ruined my month.”
The supervising teacher yawns and turns a page in her romance novel.
Wooyoung looks sadly after his sketchpad. “That’s very unfortunate. You’ve ruined my beautiful alone time. I guess we’re both nursing painful wounds.”
Junho’s lips pinch together and his fist on the table clenches tight. Wooyoung wonders if he’s about to get punched, and whether the supervising teacher will care.
She puts down her book and picks up her phone, dialing a number with a quick, glittery nail. “Ah, Minwoo-oppa? Yes, so tonight I was thinking we could go for dinner at -“
Probably not.
Wooyoung returns his attention to Junho, who’s abruptly lost interest in Wooyoung and is staring straight past him, eyes fixed on the soccer training below.
Wooyoung follows his gaze and recalls that Junho plays for one of the sports teams. “Are you meant to be there?”
Junho blinks and relaxes, unclenching his fist. “Yes,” he replies irritably. “We have a big competition coming up and now I’m stuck in detention for who knows how long and if I’m not careful they’ll replace me with Jung Jihoon and I hate that guy.”
Wooyoung doesn’t even know who that is, but he’s never had much interest in the other kids at school.
He looks down at the soccer team again. “So would it be okay if you were replaced by someone you didn’t hate?”
Junho gives him a confused stare. “What? No, of course not. I don’t want to be replaced at all.”
“Okay.” Wooyoung shrugs and lays his head down on the desk. “Good luck with that.”
“Yah!” Junho pokes him in the shoulder, hard. Wooyoung swallows a girlish squeak of pain. “It’s your fault I’m here, okay? You and your stupid dick drawing.”
“Well, about that.” Wooyoung smirks into his shoulder. “Actually, I didn’t draw it, but apart from the grievous anatomical inaccuracies, it’s spot on, right? He is all bald and weird-looking.”
Junho pauses. “You didn’t draw it?”
“Nope.” Wooyoung yawns. “Wake me up when it’s over, okay?” He rolls over so he’s facing the window and closes his eyes.
“Wake yourself up,” Junho hisses, moving around in his chair and crossing his arms.
Wooyoung drifts off into a nap (he can sleep anywhere, at any time - aside from drawing, it’s his only real skill), and wakes sometime later to an ungentle finger between his third and fourth rib. “Ow!”
“Wake up,” Junho snaps, gathering his books and flouncing out of the room. The annoyed girl watches him go, her annoyed expression acquiring a slight flush of admiration.
Wooyoung stretches in his seat. “See you tomorrow!”
- - -
Wooyoung doesn’t actually expect to see Junho the next day, but he does have to hand it to him - the guy’s persistent. Not long after Wooyoung’s claimed his window seat Junho slips in next to him, a soccer magazine folded under one arm.
Wooyoung gives it a poisonous look. “Soccer.”
Junho eyes his sketchbook. “Art.”
“I’m glad we had that conversation,” Wooyoung says brightly, flipping open the pad in readiness for ignoring Junho for the rest of the afternoon. “Enjoy your magazine.”
“Mmhmm.”
Wooyoung glances back up to find Junho hasn’t even opened his magazine - his eyes are trained on Wooyoung’s pencil instead. Immediately self-conscious, Wooyoung tosses it out the window.
Junho gapes at him. “Why did you do that?!”
Wooyoung isn’t sure himself; he just panicked. He gets up and peers mournfully out the window - that had been his good pencil, too. “An instinctive reaction to an invasion of privacy?”
“I wasn’t invading your privacy!” Junho protests. “I was just watching!”
“I was just watching, once,” Wooyoung muses sadly. “And then I was falsely accused of a crime I didn’t commit and sentenced to imprisonment in a poorly-lit classroom surrounded by crazies,“ he gives Annoyed Girl a significant look, “and nosy classmates who won’t leave me alone.” He sits, soliloquy over. “And those are my feelings.”
Junho’s have glazed over a little bit, but he shakes himself when Wooyoung’s seated again. “Okay, cool. So, um.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “I wanted to apologise for how I acted yesterday.”
Wooyoung’s rooting around in his bag for a replacement pencil. There’s a stubby one keeping his place in his math textbook; he tugs it free and tucks it behind his ear. “How did you act again?”
Junho narrows his eyes. “You know, throwing your book and being rude. Um, sorry.” He proffers his hand. “Let’s start again!”
Wooyoung has no plans to become buddies, but maybe if he shakes on it Junho will leave him alone. He clasps Junho’s hand for a cursory up-down, and then settles back down with his sketchpad.
“After all,” Junho continues cheerfully, “we’ll be seeing a lot of each other!”
Wooyoung’s pencil lead snaps off against the page.
- - -
The next day’s detention passes in much the same way - Wooyoung snagging the window seat, Junho sitting next to him and bitching about how he wants to be out there training and detention is stupid and did he see Jung Jihoon miss that goal, that’s atrocious, Junho would have kicked it straight in.
Wooyoung’s always found it hard to make friends; he hangs out with Chansung because their families are close but he’s never been interested in widening his pitiful circle of pals. It’s easier to push people away than let them in, and so he tries all the usual tricks to get rid of Junho - he’s alternately cruel and random, and goes long stretches of pointedly ignoring him, but nothing has an effect on Junho and as the days pass Wooyoung thinks he might just have to let this one slide.
Eventually Wooyoung just tries to tune him out like he does with everyone except Chansung, since Chansung doesn’t say much, but Junho proves impossible to shut out. He’s easygoing without being a pushover, and he takes Wooyoung’s hot-and-cold personality in stride. By the end of the week, as much as Wooyoung hates to admit it, he’s starting to get used to having him around.
“He should be striker, not defensive mid,” Junho’s mumbling on the fourth day of detention, leaning into Wooyoung’s personal space and staring out the window. Annoyed Girl has been moving back a row of desks each day and she’s finally in the back row beside them, sending Junho adoring looks and scowling at Wooyoung whenever he catches her eye.
Wooyoung pushes Junho firmly back into his seat. “I don’t usually do nice things like this, but I’m hoping if I make this one concession you’ll shut up forever. Do you want to swap seats?”
Annoyed Girl snaps her fingers to get his attention, before pointing at herself and then at Junho and making a heart. She points at Wooyoung and makes a stabbing motion with her pen.
Wooyoung backpedals. “Forget it,” he says quickly, before Junho has a chance to reply. “I was just messing with you.”
Junho looks disappointed but accepts Wooyoung’s abrupt change of heart. “Are you going to draw anything today?”
Wooyoung looks down at his slightly-battered sketchpad. “Will you rip it up and threaten me again if I do?”
“Geez!” Junho rubs at the back of his head, contrite. "I apologised for that already, it's my own fault for being late to class. And you didn't even draw that picture."
Wooyoung pauses, pencil tip hovering over a clean page. Mr Peters and the rest of his English class hadn’t believed him when he said the drawing wasn’t his, but Junho did? Even Chansung had congratulated him on it - the guys a year down had taken to calling Mr Peters 'Mr-something-else-that-started-with-P'. Wooyoung had given up on protesting his innocence, thinking that it wasn’t worth the effort since no one believed him.
Except, apparently, Junho.
He clears his throat. “Er, yeah. That’s right. Do you draw?”
“Me? Ha!” Junho lets out a low laugh. “I’m not artistic or academic at all!”
“You must be a terrible disappointment to your family,” Wooyoung replies before he can stop himself, trying to ignore the brief flash of hurt that skitters across Junho’s face.
“Haha.” Junho rubs at the back of his neck again. “But luckily I am athletic. I might even be able to get a soccer scholarship to Hanyang, depends on how I do in this upcoming comp.”
Wooyoung didn't realise so much was riding on the competition - Junho’s entire future could be hanging in the balance because of one unfair detention. Detention doesn't matter to Wooyoung, since he has no real plans or ambitions, but Junho-
No, he doesn’t need to think about that. It's not his problem.
“I’m not drawing today,” Wooyoung says brusquely, snapping the sketchpad shut and resting his head on the desk. “Wake me when we’re done.”
“Oh, okay.” Junho settles into his chair and after a moment Wooyoung can hear the soft rustle of paper as he starts on his homework. “Have a good nap.”
The words are a curse or something, because for once Wooyoung doesn’t sleep at all.
- - -
The detentions continue even on Saturday, but since it’s a half day Junho is jittery with excitement, bouncing around in his chair like he has ADD, or worms.
Wooyoung gives him a tired look. “Why are you so disgustingly happy?”
“I can go to practice today!” Junho flicks him a peace sign. “I’m going to be so awesome Jung Jihoon will go blind from crying tears of inadequacy.”
As metaphors go it’s a bit of a strange one, but Wooyoung gets the gist. “Okay. Have fun with that!”
“Ooh!” Junho sits straight up in his chair, turning to Wooyoung with a happy grin. “You should come along! You can practice movement drawings or whatever, catching people in motion and stuff!”
Wooyoung is almost tempted - it would be good practice to be that close to his subjects, and he’s almost starting to like having Junho around - but he quashes the part of him that thinks that and gives Junho a dismissive shrug instead. “I won't have time. I have to go home and sleep.”
Junho deflates, visibly disappointed. “Oh well. If you have plans.”
“Okay!” The supervising teacher claps her hands. “Dismissed!”
Junho gets up and carefully pushes his chair in. “See you next week.”
Wooyoung waves. “Yeah, bye.” He watches Junho leave and wonders why he wants him to stay.
- - -
Another week goes by and Wooyoung finds himself checking the clock each afternoon, counting down the minutes until he can go and hang out in the detention room. He suspects there’s something seriously wrong with him now that detention is the highlight of his school day, but Junho seems to feel the same and he’s pretty sure Annoyed Girl will set fire to something if her detention run finishes before Junho’s does. There’s something about Junho that Wooyoung can’t quite put his finger on, some sort of innate friendliness that draws people in against their will, and the more Wooyoung tries to resist it the harder it is to stay away.
“Saturday tomorrow,” Junho sighs, clapping his hands together and checking on the playing field. Wooyoung follows his gaze automatically. He still doesn’t know any of the guys on the team, but Junho spent all session on Wednesday explaining the positions and their various responsibilities - “see, only the goalie can pick up the ball, except for throw-ins and stuff, and look, they have to be able to kick really far” - and now Wooyoung knows more about soccer than he ever wanted to know.
“When’s the comp again?” Wooyoung’s doodling without looking at his sketchpad, eyes trained on the team outside, watching the guys weaving in and out of cones for ball control drills.
“Next week.” Junho tugs the pencil from Wooyoung’s fingers. Wooyoung glances back to his sketchpad to find he’s drawn a cartoon Junho holding a trophy and beaming a big crinkle-eyed grin. “And I’m pretty sure my eyes are bigger than that.”
“Not when you smile,” Wooyoung replies, before his brain-mouth filter kicks in.
Junho gives him a startled look. “Huh?”
“Not that I look,” Wooyoung feels compelled to elaborate. “I’m an artist, okay? I just catalogue things - movements, expressions, so that I can recreate them down the track. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Junho strokes a finger over his cartoon self. “Can I keep this?”
Wooyoung shrugs and tears the page out of the book. “Knock yourself out.”
“Thanks!” Junho turns and smiles at Annoyed Girl. “Do you have a pair of scissors I can borrow?”
She flushes and nods, fumbling with her pencil case and handing them over with a look of annoyed awe.
“Awesome, thanks.” He sits back and carefully cuts around the picture, the tip of his tongue poking out over his lip as he works. After he's handed the scissors back to Annoyed Girl - she takes them with a bow and cradles them to her chest - he gives Wooyoung the brightest smile he’s ever seen. “Now it’s the perfect size to carry around in my wallet. It can be my good luck charm!”
Wooyoung blinks stupidly at Junho’s megawatt grin. “Yeah, well...you’ll need it.”
The smile dims. “Ah.”
Wooyoung mentally kicks himself. He doesn’t go out of his way to be unpleasant; it’s just that sometimes he says things he doesn’t mean. He likes to maintain a safe distance from anything with the power to get under his skin and affect him, and he’s a little bit afraid that Junho’s been powering up all week. “I mean, um, good luck.”
Junho’s already fiddling with his wallet, sliding the picture into the clear slot over his student ID. “Oh, and this is for you.” He pulls a folded piece of paper out of the money sleeve, passing it over. “I hope you can come.”
Wooyoung takes it, flipping it over to find it’s a ticket to the soccer game. He shoves it into his pocket and clears his throat. “I don’t know, maybe. I’ll have to see if I’m free.”
Junho’s smile makes a valiant attempt to reach his eyes. “I’d like it if you could make it.”
“Time’s up!”
The words are barely out of the supervising teacher’s mouth when Wooyoung kicks back his chair. “See you,” he says without looking at Junho, and for the first time since detention started he’s the first to go.
- - -
“Are you sure?” Mr Peters gives him a thoughtful look. He’s calmer and decidedly less puce today, and the fluorescent lights make his shiny pate gleam. Wooyoung tries not to be dazzled.
“Yes, sir.” Wooyoung bows awkwardly. “It doesn’t seem fair, and he’s got things he’s missing out on. I don’t have anything better to do.”
Mr Peters nods. “Very well. I’ll arrange it.”
Wooyoung bows again and goes to leave.
“Mr Jang!”
He turns, one hand on the door handle.
“This is a very kind thing you’re doing.” Mr Peters cocks his head. “You two must be good friends.”
“Not at all,” Wooyoung says, and lets himself out.
- - -
He’s sitting with Chansung at lunch on Monday, making a tower out of kimbap and artfully draping kimchi all over it when Junho slides into the seat next to him, making the tower wobble dangerously.
“Careful,” Wooyoung mutters, righting the foundation. “You almost ruined it.”
Chansung stares at Junho and sucks on his spoon.
Junho ignores him and kicks Wooyoung’s foot. “Mr Peters came to tell me I’ve been excused from detention,” he hisses. “Apparently someone finally confessed to drawing a certain picture and asked to take on my detention time too.”
Wooyoung swipes a toothpick from Chansung’s lunch bag and sticks it on the tower like a flagpole. “Lucky! I wish someone would confess for me, too.” He bats his eyelashes at Chansung. “Want to do my detentions?”
Chansung shakes his head and opens a container of salad.
Junho reaches across and flicks the tower over, grabbing Wooyoung’s shoulder and turning him around. “Why?” He looks searchingly at Wooyoung. “I don’t understand.”
Wooyoung shrugs. “Now I can nap every detention instead of pretending to listen to you. Do you even like anything apart from soccer?”
Junho’s face tightens. “Why do you say stuff like this?”
“I only say what I feel,” says Wooyoung, and feels like a dick.
Junho kicks him again, harder. “Okay, be that way. I'm so sick of trying to be friends with you. You're so damn bitchy, but...” He stands up. “I thought that anyone who can draw like you, who can capture such joy and stuff in simple lines, I just thought they must be a good person underneath.” Pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket, he squashes it on top of the ruined tower. “Have fun at detention.”
Chansung waves after him as he strides off.
Wooyoung lets out a long breath and picks up the paper, brushing off a few sticky grains of rice before opening it up. It’s the picture he was drawing on the first day of detention, a handful of soccer players running, kicking and sliding, reaching for the ball with everything they have.
He can’t believe he kept it.
“Your friend?” Chansung’s finally packing up his lunch containers, methodically stacking them inside a cooler bag.
Wooyoung refolds the drawing. “Not any more.”
- - -
Detention is boring without him. Wooyoung sits in his usual seat and tries to ignore the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach and the dagger-glare of Annoyed Girl, who eventually tires of trying to kill him from a distance and moves to sit next to him instead. Wooyoung wants to tell her that’s Junho’s seat but it isn’t, not any more, so he just doesn't speak.
“Where’s sunbae?” Annoyed Girl asks him, pouting with annoyance. “Why isn’t he here?”
A whistle sounds from outside and Wooyoung looks towards the noise, just as a familiar figure jogs onto the field. The other players run up and mill around him, shaking his hand and high-fiving, welcoming him back to the team.
Annoyed Girl’s still waiting for an answer.
Wooyoung jerks his thumb at the window. “Out there. Where he belongs.” He grabs his books and stands. “You can have this spot.”
He moves to the very front of the room and sits next to the supervising teacher, who’s partway through knitting a pink, glittery scarf.
“That’s beautiful,” he tells her, and she blushes.
- - -
True to his word, Junho stops trying. For the rest of the week he avoids Wooyoung altogether, and Wooyoung’s halfway through convincing himself it’s for the best when Friday’s English class rolls around and they’re paired up to practice conversation skills. Wooyoung suspects Mr Peters did it on purpose.
“Page 178!” Mr Peters roars. “One is A, one is B - go!”
Junho clears his throat and studiously avoids meeting Wooyoung’s eyes, fumbling with the textbook and running his finger down the page. “Where is the bath house?” His accent is embarrassingly pronounced - in fact, his English is probably on par with Wooyoung’s and Wooyoung’s English is so awful a previous teacher told him he should never leave Korea, even for a visit.
“The street next on the left?” Wooyoung scowls at his textbook. “No, I mean, the street on the next left.”
Junho tries the next line. “How do I there get?”
“There is a station train?” Wooyoung slams his book shut in frustration. “This is ridiculous. Are we honestly as bad as each other, or are you just humouring me?”
Junho draws big swirly question marks next to the conversation in the textbook. “English is my worst subject.”
Wooyoung watches him retrace the lines and curves. “I don’t even know what I’m worst at.”
“You’re the worst at telling the truth and getting along with people,” Junho mutters, jabbing his mechanical pencil into the paper.
Wooyoung can’t argue with that. “Yeah.”
Junho lets out a breath and finally looks up. “Do you -“
“Conversations over!” Mr Peters glances at his watch. “Everyone back to their own seats.”
Relieved, Wooyoung packs up and makes his escape, both curious and unwilling to know what Junho was going to say.
- - -
“Jang Wooyoung?”
The supervising teacher looks for him at the end of detention that day. She hands him a form. “You’ve finished your allotted time. You don’t have to come tomorrow.”
He takes the paper, confused. “Didn’t Mr Peters tell you? I took on extra time.”
She shrugs. “It’s been overturned. You’ve been excused.” She gathers her things and leaves, answering her phone halfway out the door. “Yes? Ah, Minwoo-oppa! Tonight we can go to that hotel in the -“ her voice fades as she turns a corner down the corridor.
Wooyoung slowly organises his own books, piling them up carefully. He’d grown accustomed to spending his afternoons in this room, talking with Junho, avoiding Annoyed Girl’s laser glares, wondering what incompetent thing the supervising teacher will do next. He picks up his stuff and turns to leave, and he's almost out the door when he catches sight of his corner desk and moves to sit at it one last time.
Easing into the chair, he reflexively glances out the window, surprised to find the soccer field empty save for a lone figure jogging around the edge, feet beating steadily along the thick white line. As Wooyoung watches, Junho reaches a goal corner and turns a hard right, continuing his one-man mission around the field.
He looks tired, but he’s doggedly persistent, and Wooyoung knows he’s making up for all those practices he missed. It’s stupid, and yet kind of amazing, especially since Wooyoung’s pretty sure he’s never worked hard at anything in his life. Drawing has always come naturally to him, and he doesn’t have the patience or determination to put effort into school or friends or anything else. It’s just another way Junho is alien to him, with his hard work and easy smiles, and Wooyoung wishes...well, he doesn’t know what he wishes, and it doesn’t matter anyway.
Sick of the direction his thoughts are taking, he’s about to turn away when Junho stops, spinning in place and staring up to where Wooyoung is looking out.
Caught, Wooyoung freezes.
Junho keeps staring, fists clenched and chest heaving, and then he lifts his hand and points down at the field. He shouts something that Wooyoung can’t hear and points at the ground again.
Wooyoung backs away from the window and runs from the room.
- - -
He makes it to the front driveway of the school before Junho finds him, skidding to a stop in front of Wooyoung, covered with sweat and panting from racing all the way from the back field. Wooyoung is reluctantly impressed, not only by how he knew where he was going, but also the way he managed to intercept him in time.
“That must have been good training,” he says, shifting his schoolbag onto his shoulder so he can give Junho a polite clap. “Nice work.”
“Shut,” Junho heaves, leaning over and resting his hands on his knees, “up.” He straightens and sends Wooyoung an irritated glare. “When will you learn that sarcasm doesn’t become you?”
Wooyoung pouts. “I think it puts a rosy glow in my cheeks and a sparkle in my eyes.”
“It makes you look small and mean,” Junho says. “And it makes me want to punch you.”
“Then why don’t you just-“
Junho’s fist sends him flying backwards, and Wooyoung lands on the ground with a thump.
“Ow,” he says, dabbing at the spot where a tooth has nicked his lip. “That was uncalled for.”
Junho hunkers down next to him. “I’d argue that it was very called for, but I’m sick of fighting with you.”
Wooyoung tries to manfully spit some blood away, but can only manage a dribble of saliva down his chin. He wipes it off with a grimace. “Hey, you were the one who punched me.”
“But you’re the one who keeps acting like a selfish brat!” Junho slaps him on the arm.
“Why are you like this?” Wooyoung asks, rubbing at the sting. “Stop hitting me!”
Junho kicks him.
“Ow!”
Junho smacks him on the head.
“Ow! What are you doing?!” Wooyoung links his hands over his head and gives Junho an irritated look.
“I’m letting you know how it feels.” Junho socks him in the stomach and Wooyoung falls back to the ground again, winded. “This is how you treat people, only each hit is a mean word.” He pokes Wooyoung’s side with his toe. “Sometimes you can be so funny and cool and you get this really happy look on your face when you draw but then it’s like you have this thing against friends or something and you just lock people out.” He stands on Wooyoung’s hand. “I’m sick of being locked out.”
Wooyoung rolls over and pushes him off, rubbing at his hand mutinously. “Then stop caring.”
“See, that’s the kicker.” Junho crouches in front of him again. “I don’t want to stop.”
Something jerks in Wooyoung’s stomach, and he doesn’t think it has anything to do with the punch. “Your problem, not mine.” He gets up with a wince. Junho hadn’t used his full strength, and okay, maybe he deserved to be hit, but that didn’t stop the various whacks from hurting. A lot. “So you should just-“
“Got it.” Junho steps away from Wooyoung’s fallen bag and brandishes his sketchpad, which he'd clearly rummaged for while Wooyoung was picking himself up. “I’ll make you a deal. If this has no pictures of me in it, I’ll walk away and leave you to your own bitterness, with only that weird guy you eat with for company.”
Wooyoung snatches for the sketchpad, but Junho’s obviously more athletic than he is and evades easily.
“And if it does have pictures of me-“
“You’ll what?” Wooyoung snaps, sore and frustrated and sick of all this. “Think it means something?”
Junho’s already flipping through the pages. “I won’t think anything,” he says simply, opening it to a spot and just looking down. “Because you can lie all you want with words.” He turns the page over so Wooyoung can see. “You tell the truth with these.”
It’s Junho, sitting in the chair beside him, eyes and mouth crinkled up in that smile that Wooyoung can never get out of his mind, that smile that knocks the breath from him as effectively as a punch to the gut. He wants to take the sketchpad back, wants to hide the rest of his feelings between the pages, but his strength has deserted him and it’s all he can do to stand.
Junho notices like he notices everything and carefully closes the sketchpad, slipping it back into Wooyoung’s bag and looping it over his own shoulder. He stands in front of Wooyoung for a long moment.
“Look, I can’t force you to-“ he starts.
Wooyoung's had enough. He grabs Junho's arm. “Let’s play soccer.”
Junho’s mouth drops open. “Huh?”
“Let’s play soccer,” Wooyoung repeats impatiently. “You keep doing stuff for me and trying really hard and even though I didn’t want it and found you annoying for ages it seems I quite like you now and I should make an effort to do things you like instead.” He tugs him towards the field. “Come on.”
Junho digs his heels into the gravel. “Hold up.”
Wooyoung lets out a breath through his teeth. “As you may have noticed, I’m not actually that good with expressing my emotions. You should probably just accept this massive outpouring of affection and run with it.”
“Oh, I understand,” Junho replies, stepping sideways into Wooyoung’s path. “I just thought I’d let you know there are things I like aside from soccer.”
“Oh?” Wooyoung thinks back. “Did we talk about those?”
Junho grins. “No, but I can show you.”
“Oh?”
Junho leans in, closer and closer, until Wooyoung gets it.
“Oh.”
- - -
Mr Peters rubs his hand over his shiny bald head and frowns at them both. “Do you understand what I’m saying, boys? I don’t care what you get up to in your own time, but don’t do...that in the school driveway! That’s where it becomes inappropriate!”
Wooyoung nods solemnly while Junho blushes into his hands.
“So if we’d done...that somewhere else in the school, it would have been appropriate?”
“Mr Jang!” Mr Peters shouts. “You do know what this means, don’t you?”
“You have something against physical displays of affection?” Wooyoung guesses.
Junho lets out a choked laugh.
Mr Peters picks up a form letter from his desk. “No, Mr Jang. It means detention. For you both.”
Wooyoung can’t stop the little grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth. “A fitting punishment, sir.”
“Truly awful,” Junho agrees, suppressing a smile of his own.
“We’ll be sure to learn from our mistakes.”
“Apply that theory in English class and I’ll be a very happy man.” Mr Peters waves them to the door. “Go. Don’t let me see you again until class on Monday.”
They make their escape, Wooyoung drumming thoughtfully on his school bag. “I don’t care, of course, but what about practice?”
Junho loops his hands behind his neck. “Actually, Coach held a meeting today. He’s moving practice to before school instead.” He grins at Wooyoung. “Some girl in first year spoke to the principal about how detentions can interfere with club stuff for the seniors, and they changed some things around.” He looks thoughtful. “I wonder who it was?”
Wooyoung has a fairly good idea. “Yeah. Mysterious.”
“Anyway!” Junho jumps in front of him. “What do you have in mind for the rest of the afternoon?”
Wooyoung shrugs. “Homework. Sleeping. The usual.”
“Want to do something?” Junho tries to waggle his eyebrows suggestively and looks like he has a tic instead. “Something nice?”
“No,” Wooyoung replies flatly.
Junho’s face falls.
“I mean,” Wooyoung continues, since that hadn’t come out like he’d planned at all and he actually cares what Junho thinks, “that you have a game tomorrow and should rest. We can do something nice tomorrow, afterwards. If the team wins.”
Junho grins again. “Awesome.”
Wooyoung slants him a look. “I said if you win!”
“We will,” Junho replies confidently. “I’ve got my good luck charm now, remember?”
Wooyoung’s not sure how much faith he puts into his own crappy drawing, but he goes along with it anyway. “If you say so.”
“I do say so,” Junho says, grabbing Wooyoung’s hand and linking their fingers together. “And we will.”
- - -
They do.
Fandom: 2PM
Length: ~6000 words, oneshot.
Character/pairing: Wooho, Chansung cameo~
Ratings/warnings: PG. High school AU.
Notes: Written for sadteeth, who asked for Wooyoung the art student and Junho the soccer player and then they do stuff and become friends~! I apologise most heartily for how long it is and how it goes nowhere but ngl if anyone asks me to write an AU again I will punch them, burst into tears and then run away. Endless thanks and my firstborn to lookatmoiye7 who is patient, amazing and the best beta ever. ♥
Summary: By the end of the week, as much as Wooyoung hates to admit it, he’s starting to get used to having him around.
The drawing on the whiteboard is crude but serviceable, the shape and form of the caricature making the subject immediately apparent. Wooyoung leans in for a closer look, noting with some surprise actual skill in the shape of the eyes, the furious angle of the eyebrows. He slants a sidelong look at the man standing next to him for reference. It really is a good likeness.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Mr Jang!” Mr Peters’ face has gone an unhealthy shade of puce. “Did you draw this, this...monstrosity?!”
Wooyoung considers pulling out his sketchbook and identifying various stylistic differences between his own talents and this comparatively simple composition, but since his English teacher seems close to apoplexy, he decides it’s not the best idea.
“No,” he replies eventually, turning back to the drawing with a critical frown. “I think the artist has been influenced by modernist theory - you can see it in the sharp strokes of the hair, the bold line of the...tip.”
Mr Peters lets out a high-pitched keen like a kettle reaching the boil, and the rest of the class sink slightly into their seats. An anticipatory silence makes the air hum.
“Mr Jang, I think you did draw this,“ he pauses and takes a deep breath, which is probably for the best, because his accent comes through when he’s angry and his Korean’s been getting sloppier by the second, “thing. You should admit it now, and your punishment will be lenient.”
Wooyoung picks up a whiteboard marker and uncaps it with his teeth, bending over the drawing and touching up a few of the thinner lines. “I didn’t do it,” he repeats, talking with difficulty around the marker lid. “If I was going to draw you as a di-“
“Penis!” Mr Peters roars, spittle flying from his mouth and spattering onto Wooyoung’s cheek.
Wooyoung grimaces and wipes it off. “Penis, I certainly wouldn’t have ignored the conventions of proportion.” He recaps the marker and steps back to admire his handiwork. “This drawing takes up half the board, but going by a formal ratio you’d be much smaller.”
“Mr Jang!” Mr Peters screams. “Detention! Detention for the rest of the month! Detention forever!”
Wooyoung pockets the whiteboard marker. “I do have to point out that I’m graduating in -“
“I don’t care!” Mr Peters’ face goes from puce to scarlet and Wooyoung watches him assessingly, in case a blood vessel bursts out of his skin.
Mr Peters swallows convulsively a few times, and Wooyoung’s reminding himself to draw his remarkable expression later, when the classroom door slides open behind him and an innocent bystander steps into the fray.
“Sorry I’m late!”
Wooyoung glances over his shoulder and wonders if Lee Junho knows what he’s about to get himself into.
“Mr Lee!” Mr Peters turns slowly and pins Junho with a bulgy-eyed stare. “Where were you?”
Junho blinks and looks nervously between Wooyoung and their teacher, before his eyes settle on the picture on the whiteboard. “Oh, is that you, sir? Why are you a di-“
“Detention! For the rest of the month! Forever!”
“Sir! But-“
“You heard me!”
“Sir!”
Wooyoung takes this opportunity to wander back to his seat.
- - -
Detention is supposed to be silent work time, held for an hour after school each day in an old science classroom. The heating doesn’t work and none of the windows close properly, so Wooyoung is sure it must be an utterly miserable experience for other people.
And of course it is a bit unfair, since he didn’t draw the stupid picture in the first place (had the artist ever seen real anatomy? They took a lot of liberties with length and form) but the supervising teacher lets him keep his sketchpad. It could be worse.
There are about ten kids there in total, boys from all grade levels and one annoyed-looking first year girl who keeps muttering to herself and writing angry notes on her desk. Wooyoung wisely sits as far away from her as possible and takes a seat in the back left, next to the window. He opens his sketchbook and goes to a new page, before glancing outside for inspiration. The soccer team is practicing in an adjacent field, so he picks a player at random and starts sketching them as they play.
He’s drawn a couple of rough movement pictures when someone slumps into the seat beside him and sends his pencil careening across the page.
“Shit,” he mutters, reaching for his eraser and rubbing out the line. “Could you have been less careful?”
A hand snakes over and snatches the sketchbook away.
“Yah!” Wooyoung grabs for it but the other person is too quick. He glances up to find Junho’s eyes boring into him from beneath slitted lids, face set into what Wooyoung can only describe as an irritable pout.
“You,” Junho says, ripping the top page out of the sketchbook and tossing the rest of the pad across the room, “have ruined my month.”
The supervising teacher yawns and turns a page in her romance novel.
Wooyoung looks sadly after his sketchpad. “That’s very unfortunate. You’ve ruined my beautiful alone time. I guess we’re both nursing painful wounds.”
Junho’s lips pinch together and his fist on the table clenches tight. Wooyoung wonders if he’s about to get punched, and whether the supervising teacher will care.
She puts down her book and picks up her phone, dialing a number with a quick, glittery nail. “Ah, Minwoo-oppa? Yes, so tonight I was thinking we could go for dinner at -“
Probably not.
Wooyoung returns his attention to Junho, who’s abruptly lost interest in Wooyoung and is staring straight past him, eyes fixed on the soccer training below.
Wooyoung follows his gaze and recalls that Junho plays for one of the sports teams. “Are you meant to be there?”
Junho blinks and relaxes, unclenching his fist. “Yes,” he replies irritably. “We have a big competition coming up and now I’m stuck in detention for who knows how long and if I’m not careful they’ll replace me with Jung Jihoon and I hate that guy.”
Wooyoung doesn’t even know who that is, but he’s never had much interest in the other kids at school.
He looks down at the soccer team again. “So would it be okay if you were replaced by someone you didn’t hate?”
Junho gives him a confused stare. “What? No, of course not. I don’t want to be replaced at all.”
“Okay.” Wooyoung shrugs and lays his head down on the desk. “Good luck with that.”
“Yah!” Junho pokes him in the shoulder, hard. Wooyoung swallows a girlish squeak of pain. “It’s your fault I’m here, okay? You and your stupid dick drawing.”
“Well, about that.” Wooyoung smirks into his shoulder. “Actually, I didn’t draw it, but apart from the grievous anatomical inaccuracies, it’s spot on, right? He is all bald and weird-looking.”
Junho pauses. “You didn’t draw it?”
“Nope.” Wooyoung yawns. “Wake me up when it’s over, okay?” He rolls over so he’s facing the window and closes his eyes.
“Wake yourself up,” Junho hisses, moving around in his chair and crossing his arms.
Wooyoung drifts off into a nap (he can sleep anywhere, at any time - aside from drawing, it’s his only real skill), and wakes sometime later to an ungentle finger between his third and fourth rib. “Ow!”
“Wake up,” Junho snaps, gathering his books and flouncing out of the room. The annoyed girl watches him go, her annoyed expression acquiring a slight flush of admiration.
Wooyoung stretches in his seat. “See you tomorrow!”
- - -
Wooyoung doesn’t actually expect to see Junho the next day, but he does have to hand it to him - the guy’s persistent. Not long after Wooyoung’s claimed his window seat Junho slips in next to him, a soccer magazine folded under one arm.
Wooyoung gives it a poisonous look. “Soccer.”
Junho eyes his sketchbook. “Art.”
“I’m glad we had that conversation,” Wooyoung says brightly, flipping open the pad in readiness for ignoring Junho for the rest of the afternoon. “Enjoy your magazine.”
“Mmhmm.”
Wooyoung glances back up to find Junho hasn’t even opened his magazine - his eyes are trained on Wooyoung’s pencil instead. Immediately self-conscious, Wooyoung tosses it out the window.
Junho gapes at him. “Why did you do that?!”
Wooyoung isn’t sure himself; he just panicked. He gets up and peers mournfully out the window - that had been his good pencil, too. “An instinctive reaction to an invasion of privacy?”
“I wasn’t invading your privacy!” Junho protests. “I was just watching!”
“I was just watching, once,” Wooyoung muses sadly. “And then I was falsely accused of a crime I didn’t commit and sentenced to imprisonment in a poorly-lit classroom surrounded by crazies,“ he gives Annoyed Girl a significant look, “and nosy classmates who won’t leave me alone.” He sits, soliloquy over. “And those are my feelings.”
Junho’s have glazed over a little bit, but he shakes himself when Wooyoung’s seated again. “Okay, cool. So, um.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “I wanted to apologise for how I acted yesterday.”
Wooyoung’s rooting around in his bag for a replacement pencil. There’s a stubby one keeping his place in his math textbook; he tugs it free and tucks it behind his ear. “How did you act again?”
Junho narrows his eyes. “You know, throwing your book and being rude. Um, sorry.” He proffers his hand. “Let’s start again!”
Wooyoung has no plans to become buddies, but maybe if he shakes on it Junho will leave him alone. He clasps Junho’s hand for a cursory up-down, and then settles back down with his sketchpad.
“After all,” Junho continues cheerfully, “we’ll be seeing a lot of each other!”
Wooyoung’s pencil lead snaps off against the page.
- - -
The next day’s detention passes in much the same way - Wooyoung snagging the window seat, Junho sitting next to him and bitching about how he wants to be out there training and detention is stupid and did he see Jung Jihoon miss that goal, that’s atrocious, Junho would have kicked it straight in.
Wooyoung’s always found it hard to make friends; he hangs out with Chansung because their families are close but he’s never been interested in widening his pitiful circle of pals. It’s easier to push people away than let them in, and so he tries all the usual tricks to get rid of Junho - he’s alternately cruel and random, and goes long stretches of pointedly ignoring him, but nothing has an effect on Junho and as the days pass Wooyoung thinks he might just have to let this one slide.
Eventually Wooyoung just tries to tune him out like he does with everyone except Chansung, since Chansung doesn’t say much, but Junho proves impossible to shut out. He’s easygoing without being a pushover, and he takes Wooyoung’s hot-and-cold personality in stride. By the end of the week, as much as Wooyoung hates to admit it, he’s starting to get used to having him around.
“He should be striker, not defensive mid,” Junho’s mumbling on the fourth day of detention, leaning into Wooyoung’s personal space and staring out the window. Annoyed Girl has been moving back a row of desks each day and she’s finally in the back row beside them, sending Junho adoring looks and scowling at Wooyoung whenever he catches her eye.
Wooyoung pushes Junho firmly back into his seat. “I don’t usually do nice things like this, but I’m hoping if I make this one concession you’ll shut up forever. Do you want to swap seats?”
Annoyed Girl snaps her fingers to get his attention, before pointing at herself and then at Junho and making a heart. She points at Wooyoung and makes a stabbing motion with her pen.
Wooyoung backpedals. “Forget it,” he says quickly, before Junho has a chance to reply. “I was just messing with you.”
Junho looks disappointed but accepts Wooyoung’s abrupt change of heart. “Are you going to draw anything today?”
Wooyoung looks down at his slightly-battered sketchpad. “Will you rip it up and threaten me again if I do?”
“Geez!” Junho rubs at the back of his head, contrite. "I apologised for that already, it's my own fault for being late to class. And you didn't even draw that picture."
Wooyoung pauses, pencil tip hovering over a clean page. Mr Peters and the rest of his English class hadn’t believed him when he said the drawing wasn’t his, but Junho did? Even Chansung had congratulated him on it - the guys a year down had taken to calling Mr Peters 'Mr-something-else-that-started-with-P'. Wooyoung had given up on protesting his innocence, thinking that it wasn’t worth the effort since no one believed him.
Except, apparently, Junho.
He clears his throat. “Er, yeah. That’s right. Do you draw?”
“Me? Ha!” Junho lets out a low laugh. “I’m not artistic or academic at all!”
“You must be a terrible disappointment to your family,” Wooyoung replies before he can stop himself, trying to ignore the brief flash of hurt that skitters across Junho’s face.
“Haha.” Junho rubs at the back of his neck again. “But luckily I am athletic. I might even be able to get a soccer scholarship to Hanyang, depends on how I do in this upcoming comp.”
Wooyoung didn't realise so much was riding on the competition - Junho’s entire future could be hanging in the balance because of one unfair detention. Detention doesn't matter to Wooyoung, since he has no real plans or ambitions, but Junho-
No, he doesn’t need to think about that. It's not his problem.
“I’m not drawing today,” Wooyoung says brusquely, snapping the sketchpad shut and resting his head on the desk. “Wake me when we’re done.”
“Oh, okay.” Junho settles into his chair and after a moment Wooyoung can hear the soft rustle of paper as he starts on his homework. “Have a good nap.”
The words are a curse or something, because for once Wooyoung doesn’t sleep at all.
- - -
The detentions continue even on Saturday, but since it’s a half day Junho is jittery with excitement, bouncing around in his chair like he has ADD, or worms.
Wooyoung gives him a tired look. “Why are you so disgustingly happy?”
“I can go to practice today!” Junho flicks him a peace sign. “I’m going to be so awesome Jung Jihoon will go blind from crying tears of inadequacy.”
As metaphors go it’s a bit of a strange one, but Wooyoung gets the gist. “Okay. Have fun with that!”
“Ooh!” Junho sits straight up in his chair, turning to Wooyoung with a happy grin. “You should come along! You can practice movement drawings or whatever, catching people in motion and stuff!”
Wooyoung is almost tempted - it would be good practice to be that close to his subjects, and he’s almost starting to like having Junho around - but he quashes the part of him that thinks that and gives Junho a dismissive shrug instead. “I won't have time. I have to go home and sleep.”
Junho deflates, visibly disappointed. “Oh well. If you have plans.”
“Okay!” The supervising teacher claps her hands. “Dismissed!”
Junho gets up and carefully pushes his chair in. “See you next week.”
Wooyoung waves. “Yeah, bye.” He watches Junho leave and wonders why he wants him to stay.
- - -
Another week goes by and Wooyoung finds himself checking the clock each afternoon, counting down the minutes until he can go and hang out in the detention room. He suspects there’s something seriously wrong with him now that detention is the highlight of his school day, but Junho seems to feel the same and he’s pretty sure Annoyed Girl will set fire to something if her detention run finishes before Junho’s does. There’s something about Junho that Wooyoung can’t quite put his finger on, some sort of innate friendliness that draws people in against their will, and the more Wooyoung tries to resist it the harder it is to stay away.
“Saturday tomorrow,” Junho sighs, clapping his hands together and checking on the playing field. Wooyoung follows his gaze automatically. He still doesn’t know any of the guys on the team, but Junho spent all session on Wednesday explaining the positions and their various responsibilities - “see, only the goalie can pick up the ball, except for throw-ins and stuff, and look, they have to be able to kick really far” - and now Wooyoung knows more about soccer than he ever wanted to know.
“When’s the comp again?” Wooyoung’s doodling without looking at his sketchpad, eyes trained on the team outside, watching the guys weaving in and out of cones for ball control drills.
“Next week.” Junho tugs the pencil from Wooyoung’s fingers. Wooyoung glances back to his sketchpad to find he’s drawn a cartoon Junho holding a trophy and beaming a big crinkle-eyed grin. “And I’m pretty sure my eyes are bigger than that.”
“Not when you smile,” Wooyoung replies, before his brain-mouth filter kicks in.
Junho gives him a startled look. “Huh?”
“Not that I look,” Wooyoung feels compelled to elaborate. “I’m an artist, okay? I just catalogue things - movements, expressions, so that I can recreate them down the track. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Junho strokes a finger over his cartoon self. “Can I keep this?”
Wooyoung shrugs and tears the page out of the book. “Knock yourself out.”
“Thanks!” Junho turns and smiles at Annoyed Girl. “Do you have a pair of scissors I can borrow?”
She flushes and nods, fumbling with her pencil case and handing them over with a look of annoyed awe.
“Awesome, thanks.” He sits back and carefully cuts around the picture, the tip of his tongue poking out over his lip as he works. After he's handed the scissors back to Annoyed Girl - she takes them with a bow and cradles them to her chest - he gives Wooyoung the brightest smile he’s ever seen. “Now it’s the perfect size to carry around in my wallet. It can be my good luck charm!”
Wooyoung blinks stupidly at Junho’s megawatt grin. “Yeah, well...you’ll need it.”
The smile dims. “Ah.”
Wooyoung mentally kicks himself. He doesn’t go out of his way to be unpleasant; it’s just that sometimes he says things he doesn’t mean. He likes to maintain a safe distance from anything with the power to get under his skin and affect him, and he’s a little bit afraid that Junho’s been powering up all week. “I mean, um, good luck.”
Junho’s already fiddling with his wallet, sliding the picture into the clear slot over his student ID. “Oh, and this is for you.” He pulls a folded piece of paper out of the money sleeve, passing it over. “I hope you can come.”
Wooyoung takes it, flipping it over to find it’s a ticket to the soccer game. He shoves it into his pocket and clears his throat. “I don’t know, maybe. I’ll have to see if I’m free.”
Junho’s smile makes a valiant attempt to reach his eyes. “I’d like it if you could make it.”
“Time’s up!”
The words are barely out of the supervising teacher’s mouth when Wooyoung kicks back his chair. “See you,” he says without looking at Junho, and for the first time since detention started he’s the first to go.
- - -
“Are you sure?” Mr Peters gives him a thoughtful look. He’s calmer and decidedly less puce today, and the fluorescent lights make his shiny pate gleam. Wooyoung tries not to be dazzled.
“Yes, sir.” Wooyoung bows awkwardly. “It doesn’t seem fair, and he’s got things he’s missing out on. I don’t have anything better to do.”
Mr Peters nods. “Very well. I’ll arrange it.”
Wooyoung bows again and goes to leave.
“Mr Jang!”
He turns, one hand on the door handle.
“This is a very kind thing you’re doing.” Mr Peters cocks his head. “You two must be good friends.”
“Not at all,” Wooyoung says, and lets himself out.
- - -
He’s sitting with Chansung at lunch on Monday, making a tower out of kimbap and artfully draping kimchi all over it when Junho slides into the seat next to him, making the tower wobble dangerously.
“Careful,” Wooyoung mutters, righting the foundation. “You almost ruined it.”
Chansung stares at Junho and sucks on his spoon.
Junho ignores him and kicks Wooyoung’s foot. “Mr Peters came to tell me I’ve been excused from detention,” he hisses. “Apparently someone finally confessed to drawing a certain picture and asked to take on my detention time too.”
Wooyoung swipes a toothpick from Chansung’s lunch bag and sticks it on the tower like a flagpole. “Lucky! I wish someone would confess for me, too.” He bats his eyelashes at Chansung. “Want to do my detentions?”
Chansung shakes his head and opens a container of salad.
Junho reaches across and flicks the tower over, grabbing Wooyoung’s shoulder and turning him around. “Why?” He looks searchingly at Wooyoung. “I don’t understand.”
Wooyoung shrugs. “Now I can nap every detention instead of pretending to listen to you. Do you even like anything apart from soccer?”
Junho’s face tightens. “Why do you say stuff like this?”
“I only say what I feel,” says Wooyoung, and feels like a dick.
Junho kicks him again, harder. “Okay, be that way. I'm so sick of trying to be friends with you. You're so damn bitchy, but...” He stands up. “I thought that anyone who can draw like you, who can capture such joy and stuff in simple lines, I just thought they must be a good person underneath.” Pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket, he squashes it on top of the ruined tower. “Have fun at detention.”
Chansung waves after him as he strides off.
Wooyoung lets out a long breath and picks up the paper, brushing off a few sticky grains of rice before opening it up. It’s the picture he was drawing on the first day of detention, a handful of soccer players running, kicking and sliding, reaching for the ball with everything they have.
He can’t believe he kept it.
“Your friend?” Chansung’s finally packing up his lunch containers, methodically stacking them inside a cooler bag.
Wooyoung refolds the drawing. “Not any more.”
- - -
Detention is boring without him. Wooyoung sits in his usual seat and tries to ignore the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach and the dagger-glare of Annoyed Girl, who eventually tires of trying to kill him from a distance and moves to sit next to him instead. Wooyoung wants to tell her that’s Junho’s seat but it isn’t, not any more, so he just doesn't speak.
“Where’s sunbae?” Annoyed Girl asks him, pouting with annoyance. “Why isn’t he here?”
A whistle sounds from outside and Wooyoung looks towards the noise, just as a familiar figure jogs onto the field. The other players run up and mill around him, shaking his hand and high-fiving, welcoming him back to the team.
Annoyed Girl’s still waiting for an answer.
Wooyoung jerks his thumb at the window. “Out there. Where he belongs.” He grabs his books and stands. “You can have this spot.”
He moves to the very front of the room and sits next to the supervising teacher, who’s partway through knitting a pink, glittery scarf.
“That’s beautiful,” he tells her, and she blushes.
- - -
True to his word, Junho stops trying. For the rest of the week he avoids Wooyoung altogether, and Wooyoung’s halfway through convincing himself it’s for the best when Friday’s English class rolls around and they’re paired up to practice conversation skills. Wooyoung suspects Mr Peters did it on purpose.
“Page 178!” Mr Peters roars. “One is A, one is B - go!”
Junho clears his throat and studiously avoids meeting Wooyoung’s eyes, fumbling with the textbook and running his finger down the page. “Where is the bath house?” His accent is embarrassingly pronounced - in fact, his English is probably on par with Wooyoung’s and Wooyoung’s English is so awful a previous teacher told him he should never leave Korea, even for a visit.
“The street next on the left?” Wooyoung scowls at his textbook. “No, I mean, the street on the next left.”
Junho tries the next line. “How do I there get?”
“There is a station train?” Wooyoung slams his book shut in frustration. “This is ridiculous. Are we honestly as bad as each other, or are you just humouring me?”
Junho draws big swirly question marks next to the conversation in the textbook. “English is my worst subject.”
Wooyoung watches him retrace the lines and curves. “I don’t even know what I’m worst at.”
“You’re the worst at telling the truth and getting along with people,” Junho mutters, jabbing his mechanical pencil into the paper.
Wooyoung can’t argue with that. “Yeah.”
Junho lets out a breath and finally looks up. “Do you -“
“Conversations over!” Mr Peters glances at his watch. “Everyone back to their own seats.”
Relieved, Wooyoung packs up and makes his escape, both curious and unwilling to know what Junho was going to say.
- - -
“Jang Wooyoung?”
The supervising teacher looks for him at the end of detention that day. She hands him a form. “You’ve finished your allotted time. You don’t have to come tomorrow.”
He takes the paper, confused. “Didn’t Mr Peters tell you? I took on extra time.”
She shrugs. “It’s been overturned. You’ve been excused.” She gathers her things and leaves, answering her phone halfway out the door. “Yes? Ah, Minwoo-oppa! Tonight we can go to that hotel in the -“ her voice fades as she turns a corner down the corridor.
Wooyoung slowly organises his own books, piling them up carefully. He’d grown accustomed to spending his afternoons in this room, talking with Junho, avoiding Annoyed Girl’s laser glares, wondering what incompetent thing the supervising teacher will do next. He picks up his stuff and turns to leave, and he's almost out the door when he catches sight of his corner desk and moves to sit at it one last time.
Easing into the chair, he reflexively glances out the window, surprised to find the soccer field empty save for a lone figure jogging around the edge, feet beating steadily along the thick white line. As Wooyoung watches, Junho reaches a goal corner and turns a hard right, continuing his one-man mission around the field.
He looks tired, but he’s doggedly persistent, and Wooyoung knows he’s making up for all those practices he missed. It’s stupid, and yet kind of amazing, especially since Wooyoung’s pretty sure he’s never worked hard at anything in his life. Drawing has always come naturally to him, and he doesn’t have the patience or determination to put effort into school or friends or anything else. It’s just another way Junho is alien to him, with his hard work and easy smiles, and Wooyoung wishes...well, he doesn’t know what he wishes, and it doesn’t matter anyway.
Sick of the direction his thoughts are taking, he’s about to turn away when Junho stops, spinning in place and staring up to where Wooyoung is looking out.
Caught, Wooyoung freezes.
Junho keeps staring, fists clenched and chest heaving, and then he lifts his hand and points down at the field. He shouts something that Wooyoung can’t hear and points at the ground again.
Wooyoung backs away from the window and runs from the room.
- - -
He makes it to the front driveway of the school before Junho finds him, skidding to a stop in front of Wooyoung, covered with sweat and panting from racing all the way from the back field. Wooyoung is reluctantly impressed, not only by how he knew where he was going, but also the way he managed to intercept him in time.
“That must have been good training,” he says, shifting his schoolbag onto his shoulder so he can give Junho a polite clap. “Nice work.”
“Shut,” Junho heaves, leaning over and resting his hands on his knees, “up.” He straightens and sends Wooyoung an irritated glare. “When will you learn that sarcasm doesn’t become you?”
Wooyoung pouts. “I think it puts a rosy glow in my cheeks and a sparkle in my eyes.”
“It makes you look small and mean,” Junho says. “And it makes me want to punch you.”
“Then why don’t you just-“
Junho’s fist sends him flying backwards, and Wooyoung lands on the ground with a thump.
“Ow,” he says, dabbing at the spot where a tooth has nicked his lip. “That was uncalled for.”
Junho hunkers down next to him. “I’d argue that it was very called for, but I’m sick of fighting with you.”
Wooyoung tries to manfully spit some blood away, but can only manage a dribble of saliva down his chin. He wipes it off with a grimace. “Hey, you were the one who punched me.”
“But you’re the one who keeps acting like a selfish brat!” Junho slaps him on the arm.
“Why are you like this?” Wooyoung asks, rubbing at the sting. “Stop hitting me!”
Junho kicks him.
“Ow!”
Junho smacks him on the head.
“Ow! What are you doing?!” Wooyoung links his hands over his head and gives Junho an irritated look.
“I’m letting you know how it feels.” Junho socks him in the stomach and Wooyoung falls back to the ground again, winded. “This is how you treat people, only each hit is a mean word.” He pokes Wooyoung’s side with his toe. “Sometimes you can be so funny and cool and you get this really happy look on your face when you draw but then it’s like you have this thing against friends or something and you just lock people out.” He stands on Wooyoung’s hand. “I’m sick of being locked out.”
Wooyoung rolls over and pushes him off, rubbing at his hand mutinously. “Then stop caring.”
“See, that’s the kicker.” Junho crouches in front of him again. “I don’t want to stop.”
Something jerks in Wooyoung’s stomach, and he doesn’t think it has anything to do with the punch. “Your problem, not mine.” He gets up with a wince. Junho hadn’t used his full strength, and okay, maybe he deserved to be hit, but that didn’t stop the various whacks from hurting. A lot. “So you should just-“
“Got it.” Junho steps away from Wooyoung’s fallen bag and brandishes his sketchpad, which he'd clearly rummaged for while Wooyoung was picking himself up. “I’ll make you a deal. If this has no pictures of me in it, I’ll walk away and leave you to your own bitterness, with only that weird guy you eat with for company.”
Wooyoung snatches for the sketchpad, but Junho’s obviously more athletic than he is and evades easily.
“And if it does have pictures of me-“
“You’ll what?” Wooyoung snaps, sore and frustrated and sick of all this. “Think it means something?”
Junho’s already flipping through the pages. “I won’t think anything,” he says simply, opening it to a spot and just looking down. “Because you can lie all you want with words.” He turns the page over so Wooyoung can see. “You tell the truth with these.”
It’s Junho, sitting in the chair beside him, eyes and mouth crinkled up in that smile that Wooyoung can never get out of his mind, that smile that knocks the breath from him as effectively as a punch to the gut. He wants to take the sketchpad back, wants to hide the rest of his feelings between the pages, but his strength has deserted him and it’s all he can do to stand.
Junho notices like he notices everything and carefully closes the sketchpad, slipping it back into Wooyoung’s bag and looping it over his own shoulder. He stands in front of Wooyoung for a long moment.
“Look, I can’t force you to-“ he starts.
Wooyoung's had enough. He grabs Junho's arm. “Let’s play soccer.”
Junho’s mouth drops open. “Huh?”
“Let’s play soccer,” Wooyoung repeats impatiently. “You keep doing stuff for me and trying really hard and even though I didn’t want it and found you annoying for ages it seems I quite like you now and I should make an effort to do things you like instead.” He tugs him towards the field. “Come on.”
Junho digs his heels into the gravel. “Hold up.”
Wooyoung lets out a breath through his teeth. “As you may have noticed, I’m not actually that good with expressing my emotions. You should probably just accept this massive outpouring of affection and run with it.”
“Oh, I understand,” Junho replies, stepping sideways into Wooyoung’s path. “I just thought I’d let you know there are things I like aside from soccer.”
“Oh?” Wooyoung thinks back. “Did we talk about those?”
Junho grins. “No, but I can show you.”
“Oh?”
Junho leans in, closer and closer, until Wooyoung gets it.
“Oh.”
- - -
Mr Peters rubs his hand over his shiny bald head and frowns at them both. “Do you understand what I’m saying, boys? I don’t care what you get up to in your own time, but don’t do...that in the school driveway! That’s where it becomes inappropriate!”
Wooyoung nods solemnly while Junho blushes into his hands.
“So if we’d done...that somewhere else in the school, it would have been appropriate?”
“Mr Jang!” Mr Peters shouts. “You do know what this means, don’t you?”
“You have something against physical displays of affection?” Wooyoung guesses.
Junho lets out a choked laugh.
Mr Peters picks up a form letter from his desk. “No, Mr Jang. It means detention. For you both.”
Wooyoung can’t stop the little grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth. “A fitting punishment, sir.”
“Truly awful,” Junho agrees, suppressing a smile of his own.
“We’ll be sure to learn from our mistakes.”
“Apply that theory in English class and I’ll be a very happy man.” Mr Peters waves them to the door. “Go. Don’t let me see you again until class on Monday.”
They make their escape, Wooyoung drumming thoughtfully on his school bag. “I don’t care, of course, but what about practice?”
Junho loops his hands behind his neck. “Actually, Coach held a meeting today. He’s moving practice to before school instead.” He grins at Wooyoung. “Some girl in first year spoke to the principal about how detentions can interfere with club stuff for the seniors, and they changed some things around.” He looks thoughtful. “I wonder who it was?”
Wooyoung has a fairly good idea. “Yeah. Mysterious.”
“Anyway!” Junho jumps in front of him. “What do you have in mind for the rest of the afternoon?”
Wooyoung shrugs. “Homework. Sleeping. The usual.”
“Want to do something?” Junho tries to waggle his eyebrows suggestively and looks like he has a tic instead. “Something nice?”
“No,” Wooyoung replies flatly.
Junho’s face falls.
“I mean,” Wooyoung continues, since that hadn’t come out like he’d planned at all and he actually cares what Junho thinks, “that you have a game tomorrow and should rest. We can do something nice tomorrow, afterwards. If the team wins.”
Junho grins again. “Awesome.”
Wooyoung slants him a look. “I said if you win!”
“We will,” Junho replies confidently. “I’ve got my good luck charm now, remember?”
Wooyoung’s not sure how much faith he puts into his own crappy drawing, but he goes along with it anyway. “If you say so.”
“I do say so,” Junho says, grabbing Wooyoung’s hand and linking their fingers together. “And we will.”
- - -
They do.