academically-stupid

Talk of relationships, new luxury handbags, the odd glance at another group passed throughout the room as students waited patiently for their teacher to arrive. 

A man sits in his usual place, hair perfectly placed, not a wrinkle in sight on his uniform– pressed to perfection like the rest of his appearance. Kim Ri-an.  The chaebol of all chaebols, the heart throb, and most importantly the king. Even in his silence there is a sense of power that emanates from him. As if the very air he breathes, the very ground he walks upon, is different from the rest of them. 

And everyone around him knows not to get in his way. Everyone knows that the slightest mistake, even so much as a breath too strong or a glance at him that lasts too long, could be the difference between making it out of this place alive or having your entire future torn from your hands in front of you.

As the door to the classroom opens, a hush falls upon the room as those who were standing scramble to their seats, falling in line as they know they should. 

Ms. Han walks into the classroom, greeting the students with a formal bow. 

“Good morning students” she calls out, receiving a unilateral and expected “good morning!” in return.

“Now before we begin with roll call, I would like you all to welcome our newest honour roll student who will be joining us. Oh Ha-joon.”

Silence greets the man who walks into the classroom. All heads turn towards the entrance as whispers spread throughout the classroom, most not even attempting to keep their voices to a discrete volume. 

Ha-joon is quiet, wearing the same pristine uniform that all Jooshin students are expected to wear. But something is different, something that makes even Ri-an turn his head the slightest bit. Something about the way he holds himself perhaps? His uniform is crisp and clean, but there's no excess detail or anything added to make him stand out. His posture is straight, with wide shoulders that are relaxed, hands in his jeans pockets. He doesn’t curl in on himself, doesn’t attempt to make himself smaller— but it’s not performative like all others that attempt to do the same. He shows no hesitancy in his movements.

He subtly bows to the teacher once, before turning his full attention towards the rest of the class. “Hello, I’m Oh Ha-joon, transfer student. I used to study at Mirae-Hwanyang International. Nice to meet you all” he says,a bowing once more. 

His voice is even, barely fluctuating while speaking. His tone was calm, relaxed and without fear, as if he didn’t know that he was walking into the lions' den. He speaks respectfully, but not submissively. 

More whispers spread through the classroom. Some girls steal glances, others scoff. One guy smirks, while another shrinks further into himself. 

Ri-an finally looks at the new student. His eyes moved slowly, taking his time to analyse him from the shoes he wears— sneakers, worn but not to the point where they are about to fall apart from use— to his hair; messily styled, falling into his brown eyes slightly as though it was normal for him to run his hands through them qute regularly.

It’s as he moves down again, to where his hair ends and meets his eyes, that their eyes meet. 

Ri-an pauses. 

Ha-joon doesn’t look away instantly. He holds Ri-an’s gaze for a second too long. Not as though he were sizing him up, deciding whether he was a worthy opponent or not. No. It wasn’t rude the way his own eyes scanned Ri-an’s face. It was just… calm. Steady. As though he didn’t know who he was. Didn’t realise or care who Ri-an was. What he could do with just one phone call, one text message to the right people. 

“Thank you, Mr. Oh, please take a seat. There should be an open one…” she says as she looks across the sea of students, none of whom would meet her eyes, in hopes that the new student would not be placed next to them. “Ah, there,” she says eventually, pointing her hand towards a seat in the centre row, “right there beside Mr. Kim.” 

Ri-an’s eyes don’t leave Ha-joons. Not as he walks towards him, not as he stops right next to him. Something flickers through them for a second. Barely noticeable to those around him, only visible if you’re looking for it; irritation, curiosity even? He continued to look at him, only breaking it when Ri-an would have to physically turn his head in order to maintain eye contact. 

He faces the board as Miss Han starts roll call. To anyone else, he would seem normal. As normal as Kim Ri-an could look. But if you looked close enough you would see the tension in his shoulders. How he holds his pen tighter than normal. Normally, he would not have someone sit this close to him. No one would typically dare to. But Oh Ha-joon was clearly not like the other students. Scholarship or not, he was too calm, indifferent even. 

Stopping in front of a large oak door he paused, leaving a good distance between him and his kidnappers, just what did they want with him? If they were going to kill him then do it already? Why make him wait, why prolong the inevitable?

The man in front of him sighed, causing him to freeze up. Shit. Did he say something? Has he somehow made his situation even worse by making it seem as though he had not been listening, choosing to actively ignore the all-powerful man in front of him? The man who held his very life in the palm of his hands, free to do with it as he pleased. Free to end it any way he wanted. 

“You know," he said, looking back at him "for someone who doesn’t speak, you sure do have a lot to say”. Turning around he opened the door, with the taller man begrudgingly following shortly behind.

Beautiful. Truly whoever had decorated this building- this mansion- deserved the highest of praise. Deep maroon walls surrounded him, the colour seeming to match the aura of the brooding man before him. Only one window seemed visible, and even then, the curtains that hung from the high ceilings, cascading like a bloody waterfall, seemed to cover what little light managed to fight its way through.

“Well, are you going to come in or am I going to have to pull you in here myself?” Was all he said, cocking his head slightly, as though giving him a choice. Quickly he shuffled in as fast as his feet could make him. The illusion of a choice

Sure he didn’t really think this would in any way put a stop to his inevitable doom, but maybe listening to them would make the end less painful. Even if it sounded stupid in his head, the idea of there being even the slightest chance at a painless end spurred him to bite his tongue and do as the men told him.

Sitting down on the bed that stood in the middle of the room, the centrepiece, the man gestured to the space in front of him. Too close. He wanted him far too close for his liking. But what choice did he have? 

Begrudgingly he slowly made his way towards the man. Though perhaps he was too slow because the next thing he knows he’s being pulled by the arm, tripping over his own feet, falling to his knees in front of a now annoyed vampire. Shit.

A rhetorical question. He was obviously not expecting an answer from the man kneeling before him who had yet to say a single word. Did he not know that staying silent was useless, that he could hear his thoughts over the span of an entire forest? The very thing that got him into this situation in the first place? 

‘No’ Yoongi thought to himself, letting out a deep breath of frustration. There had to be more to it.

Of all the people Namjoon could have chosen from, why had it been him who was stuck on babysitting duty? No, babysitting was the wrong word for his current situation. The way that the man in front of him carried himself. The way he kept his legs tucked underneath him, hands clasped together on his thighs, the slight tremble visible only to the perseptive eyes of him and his brothers.

This felt closer to pet sitting if anything. He had not been blind to the way that he always kept a safe distance between himself and any of the guys in the house. Sighing he got up, for once having enough of the silence. The man was quick to jump to his feet. Whether to fight, run or hide Yoongi wasn’t certain.

"Stay here," he said walking towards the door he just came from. He had heard the front door open and close shut, signaling the return of the others. "I'll be right back, and I think we both know it would be in your best interest to stay put."

And with that, the door was closed. Sealing yet another victims fate.

Yet something kept bother Yoongi, as he walked down the corridor towards his brothers study, where the rest of them were bound to already be lounging about.

Why was this new humans scent so enticing? Was it even healthy for a living breathing human being to smell that much like death? Whatever it was Yoongi knew they were going to figure it out, with or without your cooperation.

One thing was for sure though;