wild wild love

Standing up, his hackles raised with him, “One, you invited me over here.” He turned to unhook his toolbox, “And two, I don’t hit animals.” What spare time hung off the tip of his tongue, but he held it back. People didn’t need to know how much he worked for how little money he had.

“I’m not going to be mean about it.” He shrugged off the mood and followed Suji further into the yard, stopping as soon as he saw the reason he was invited over. An eyebrow lifting slightly in mild disapproval and irritation of knowing this was a ridiculous easy repair and not the crisis he was expecting to heroically fix; he placed his toolbox beside the mess and pulled his gloves out of his back pocket.

"You know I love it when you talk tools with me.." Of course, the only way to make sure that everything had been done properly (not that she doubted him, but still.) was to look at it at approximately .5 distance, system of measurement unspecified, but to summarize it: pretty damn close. About as close as she could get without having to touch the wood. She had to stand up from her crouching next to the rabbit house, slowly and with a quiet groan, as she felt her knees locking into place. "Star one as in star one, the number, or star one as in the one with the star?"

Of course, there were many things to ask now, and rather than just addressing all the matters on her mind, she went with the questions she thought, and would also hopefully in his mind, be of some importance, however relevant: "Really, I don't understand how you expect me to do that as well as you do — but really, thank you. I wouldn't want to be responsible for Park Jeong Su becoming homeless during the best time of his life."

She always like walking home with Suji, the other girl being someone she spent a lot of time with what with them being classmates, teammates, and Eunji being a part of the Super Junior Fanclub that Suji ran.  Plus, Suji was friends with Eunji’s best friend, Bomi, so that just added to it.  Eunji’s bias in SuJu certainly wasn’t Leeteuk like the other’s was, but she at least respected him as leader of the boys.  She was more in favor of the maknae, Kyuhyun.  She loved everything about him, so they at least could talk peacefully about it. 

It wasn't the end of the world, it probably wasn't the end of anything. In the heat of the moment, it was easier to overreact than it was to stay calm. Suji wasn't going to blame anyone for not sharing her ability to remain calm and collected even when things seemed to be caving down. Truth be told, it was not always in acceptance; at times, it was just frustration. She gave up on being mad and let it go, because she wanted to change things but she couldn't. 

"I don't think it was too bad.. It was expected, don't you think? I mean, we're known as crazy fangirls, surely most people would have been expecting this kind of reaction, right?" Suji chose to not worry about it, because, really, would anyone even expect anything but a blaze of panic and anger? She was an exception, but she didn't exactly enjoy being treated like one. "I mean, if I was angry and I had a chance to rant to the entire school, I probably would."

Jongdae knew schoolyard crushes were for romantic comedy leads or shojo manga heroes, meaning the completely opposite kind of guy like himself. He was the b-line story, the sarcastic sidekick with great hair and no other purpose than to get a laugh when the story was in a lull. Suji was the girl, not a girl the girl, the one b-line story characters were lucky to be in the same panel with. It’d be like if Sailor Moon ignored Tuxedo Mask to date his cousin. Yet here he was, Tuxedo Mask’s cousin thinking that maybe this time he had a shot.

And then she told him to bring a hammer.

Right, he was Tuxedo Mask’s useful cousin. So he had a shot at fixing her sink.

The bike ride was spent mainly berating himself for getting his hopes up and partially almost running into many different things and barely saving himself from a wipeout. Every moment he got closer to Suji’s house, Jieun’s voice rang in the back of his head – for some reason his brain defaulted to her for nagging and it was infuriating – reminding him of just how pathetic it was that he had just dropped everything for a chance, a maybe, a slight possibility, that today Suji would miraculously see how he wasn’t a complete weasel and maybe become head over heels in love with him.

It wasn’t going to happen, he wasn’t Tuxedo Mask, if he was any anime protagonist he would be Shinji Ikari and that’s just horrifying.

“Kim Jongdae! Out of all the things you may do, like drop into my backyard later than you should be allowed to be, you may. Not—” She paused once she stood next to him, crouching to pick up the rabbit that seemed to be very oblivious to the tension around him and his existence. She held cradled aforementioned pet in her arms protectively, like a mother would; only stopping the gentle back-and-forth rocking action to continue the conversation. “Ever. In. My. Presence. Hit. A. Mammal. Not ever. You have no right. What you do in your spare time is not my responsibility, but in my backyard…”  She turned away from him, taking a few steps and then releasing Park Jeong Su onto the grass at a safer distance. After watching him hop away in bliss, Suji turned back towards Jongdae and looked at him with playful scorn, but she was still smiling. “You abide by my rules. And here, everyone loves each other and there is, and will be, peace.”

Now seemed like a good time to bring up Bomi’s weasel argument, but Suji believed he was painfully aware of the nickname he had been given. No hitting mammals if you’re a weasel; that was the point. No hitting anything if you’re a Jongdae and you’re there to help. “Anyway, I’m glad you could find it within your heart to take time off your anime watching to help me with — ehh..” She nodded towards the wooden mess that was the rabbit cage. She’d just sort of left it there and then, probably due to the unbeneficial position it had landed in, things started to fall apart.  “You’re not allowed to be mean about this. You’re not.” She stopped again, to watch him as he looked toward the sad, crumbled, once inhabitable living area of Park Jeong Su. She really couldn’t help but to grin at it herself, because it was kind of stupid. “If you laugh, I’ll leave.”

Yet there he remained, an outlier among the crowd of close-knit groups huddled along the sidelines. In this kind of a setting, it was painstakingly obvious that he was without companion; but somehow, it was less mortifying to stay put than to make the long (dare he say, pathetic) walk back to the main building all on his own.

Which then presented the real struggle of the day: how to endure the entire practice without wanting to claw his eyes out. Overall, he’d been managing relatively well with cell phone games and messages to his friends back home. And, quite frankly, if he put his mind to it, he might have managed to go for more than the usual hour allotted for practice (he was getting mighty close to 2048). 

But even torture had its end and Yixing was quick to perk up as the crowd began to disperse, leaving him with two options: he could trickle out with the other students—making himself vulnerable to interactions he’d much rather avoid—or he could take his time, wait it out and tag onto the end of the group, thus creating the illusion of relation with none of the commitment.

The latter, of course, was right up the teen’s alley and with his bag slung lazily over a single shoulder, he idled on the sidelines, glancing over his shoulder every now and then in muted determination — he had to do this just right.

Careful in his timing, meticulous in his form, Yixing turned on his heel just as the last groups made their way off the field, ready to join them — that is, until an unfamiliar voice snared his attention. Then the teen had no choice but to freeze, jerking just slightly in surprise before turning to face the source of the voice.

Initial hopes had him praying that the stranger was talking to someone else; but upon facing her and meeting her eye, he realized he would not be so lucky. He’d seen this girl around many times before; a staple member of the Boseong High community, as far as he could tell. And having anyone converse with him was nerve-racking, let alone her. So her words were met by persistently averted gaze (eyes flickering up to hers in forced etiquette for only a few seconds before they were drawn elsewhere) and a stilted nature to his speech. 

"I…I’m new." Well, that was easy enough. As long as she kept the conversation simple, he would be good — accent aside, of course. "Yes…and yes. You play…good."

“Ah, you think I did well? That’s so nice of you..” It really was nice of him; in these times of games with little support from both the audience and coaches, the encouragement was needed. Though it was not wasn’t the most creative and encouraging compliment she’d gotten, and if he thought she played well, she was smart enough to just leave it at that. Besides, even if she wanted details, she probably wouldn’t get any even if she asked. Not to condescend his verbosity, but communication would probably not reach any advanced levels between them – at least not today. She could save her social ambition for when it was needed, and could make a difference. “Do you play too?”

Standing there, waiting for rain or whatever, was getting kind of trite and she was cold. When sweat dried, it felt like ice setting in. She still liked to think she looked somewhat presentable, but she wasn’t at her best. But then again, no one could possibly be expecting her to look any better than she did. She just kept smiling silently, tucking a few stray strands behind her ears as she looked over the empty field. When the sky was without clouds, or just one big cloud (she wasn’t really sure what to believe.) it really did look like just empty space – which was rare in Boseong, because normally there were at least birds or trees or kids running around. But now, there was nothing. “Anyway, we should probably get going. Don’t you think it’s cold?”

Suji took a few, slow steps in the direction of the school, waiting for him to understand the hint in case he hadn’t been able to understand his words. It was a possibility, and she’d rather be too careful than to have him flustered – though it wasn’t impossible that confusion had already settled in between them. But she waited for him, still smiling, still searching for signs of comprehension.