rewind.

she can say that about a lot of things, and somehow it'll always root to yaoi. when she came across junjo romantica as a twelve year old? that was a mistake that shifted the gears into her brain. it was a mistake to originally watch jujutsu kaisen casually, only to get addicted to gojo satoru and geto suguru. it was a mistake getting into genshin and it was a mistake getting omniscient reader's viewpoint... everything she's done feels like unfortunate accidents that somehow become a part of her life.

so when she accidentally spots the ahn sungha and the choi hyunwoo locking lips and tenderly touching each other in the student council room... and she runs away as soon as hyunwoo looks back at the creak of the open door, making sure to wipe off the drool off her face from that.

she's tried her best to avoid eye contact with either of them during meetings, only stealing glances at them whenever they weren't looking in her direction. she'd watch as they communicated with each other, every so often sharing smiles with one another as she mentally wrote down the descriptions of what they were doing and whatever could be going on in their heads. granted, there'd be times she'd scribble it somewhere as well, trying to look like she was intently taking notes on the meeting when she was actually saving a reference for when she would write about satosugu later. quite literally, after that incident, she's been writing down all sorts of things to make sure that she would get her creative juices flowing somewhere and that she'd have record of it.

realistically, she should've brought all of her belongings with her in the bathroom, given the filth that she put in there. but she figured that with her image as the sweet and responsible catholic girl, no one be interested to see what she wrote down in there... until she walks into the room and sees the upperclassman himself flipping through her notebook.

she lets out a yell, quickly clearing her throat afterwards to regain composure despite the absolute terror she felt in her body right now. "h-hyunwoo sunbaenim," she forces out with a smile that shows both apologetic and HORROR. "u-uhm... that's ... my notebook you're looking through. i hope you didn't mistake it for yours..." forced, nervous laughs. "if you... don't mind just..." she puts out her hands as though offering a peace treaty. "g...giving it back to me? please?"

so when he’d noticed sooha’s reaction to his kiss with sungha, something in his brain told him that she was… fujoing out. though to be fair, it wasn’t so much so as a kiss, and more so hyunwoo practically eating sungha’s face in an attempt to make him his. but that’s neither here nor there.

if it weren’t for sooha’s piercing loud scream, hyunwoo would’ve perhaps been too engrossed in this notebook. in the absolute filth it’s filled with. he raises his eyes away from the notebook and they land on sooha.

sweet, small, sooha.

how could such a small person have so much filth in their head? “oh! this is yours?” he laughs — he doesn’t even have to force her to admit it. sooha, poor sooha, it’s entertaining. “sure. sorry, i almost mistook it for mine,” he closes the notebook and makes a show to pass it back to sooha, before pulling away and lifting it up with his hands, so that she can’t reach it. “especially because i kept seeing my name inside.”

"is there something wrong with being on time?" sungha questions, shifting his eyes back to his painting, humming as he continues to add the finishing touches. "having a strict schedule helps, there's only a small margin of error if you have a specific routine to follow. i won't say no to a little spontaneity though, otherwise i would have kicked you out of the studio."

sungha jests, despite his words he has never made any attempt to shove hyunwoo away other than the rare occassion that hyunwoo is wearing a scent he simply cannot stand. he has no reason to—above all, hyunwoo keeps himself squeaky clean enough that sungha doesn't mind his presence and touch. seldom does sungha feel the strong and undeniable urge to wash and sanitize his hands until his skin turns a concerning red when he's around hyunwoo, to his surprise.

the announcement that hyunwoo has yet fallen off of another relationship isn't shocking news, his reputation as a classic campus playboy preceeds him—it's hyunwoo's next admittance that causes sungha to pause, allowing hyunwoo the luxury to lean his head against sungha's shoulder.

he hums, setting the brush back down, peeking at the crown of hyunwoo's head from the corner of his eyes. "you broke up with her because i didn't like her perfume?" sungha questions, a huff of a laugh escaping his lips, destroying the usual kind and responsible demeanor he puts up for the other students. "that's new, are you using me as an excuse? the relationship ended pretty fast too, even for your standards."

what sort of reaction is hyunwoo looking for? sungha can't figure it out, but he doubts he's giving the one that hyunwoo wants out of him. "is that what you told her? i would prefer not to be involved with an angry mob of your exes."

"that's too bad, i heard they're starting a club just to get you," he says lightheartedly, unwilling to move away. sure, hyunwoo's had his fair share of exes, girls he's dated here and there, but the relationships were always fleeting, some dating him simply because of his family, others because they'd always wanted the experience of dating someone like hyunwoo, only to be horribly disillusioned when they actually get involved.

"plus," he continues, now looking at sungha's artwork, taking it all in, his head already feeling a lot lighter than it had been just an hour ago when he'd been forcing himself to study, "if dating her meant that i couldn't be with you, then the choice was simple to me."

sungha's strokes are beautiful, they tell a story and hyunwoo's always admired it. hyunwoo's personal style is a little different, but there's something about sungha's that he's always wanted to emulate.

he feels sungha's hand against his hair, and he allows himself to bask in this feeling before finally pulling away. he sees the expression on sungha's face, the slight quirk of his lips, he's amused and hyunwoo can tell. it's cute.

"not just for you, because of you," hyunwoo corrects, annoying as always, but he holds onto sungha's hand and gently, he slips a finger under his glove, rubbing at sungha's palm. "my hands are clean," he reassures sungha, despite the fact that he's touched his bare skin countless times by now, has probably memorized every line running down sungha's palm, could easily trace it from memory. maybe he might, one day.

hyunwoo doesn't bother to glance around the room, it's night anyway, and he doubts anyone else is crazy enough to come here at this time. so he leans in, and kisses sungha, nibbling at his bottom lip as he does so, familiar with the way sungha's lips feel against his. and it's crazy but sungha's so warm against him. "also means i can do this again," he says, before kissing sungha once more, his fingers slipping deeper into sungha's gloved hand.

what he hadn't anticipated, having grown up in circles dominated by understated elegance and quiet propriety, with very little time to actually socialize with his own peers outside of skating practice and study hall, was the locker room talk, the way masculinity in young adulthood manifested itself when there was no turned-up nose of society sniffing it out. there was humor to it, freedom, a kind of bawdy, unbridled expression that made it safe and acceptable to say and do whatever he wanted and know his brothers-in-arms would have his back.

was this what he had to look forward to when it would finally be time for him to retire from skating and enlist in the military? perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all.

yunseong is on his own second drink, something sickeningly bittersweet that wouldn't look too girly in a clear glass. already, there is a rosy tint across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. how else would he have been so willingly brazen when confessing to hyunwoo that the last woman he'd slept with had insisted, in less than enthusiastic tones, that, 'it wasn't bad, I just think I might be a lesbian.'

"that - yeah, that can happen," he nods his head. he isn't going to judge yunseong for not thinking about this (he's judging, ever so slightly), if he's going to help yunseong, that he needs to be a real mentor, a real older brother figure. he nods his head again, he isn't sure how many times he's nodded his head now.

he made quick visits to each booth at least, see how they’re doing, ask if there’s anything he can help with despite having no interest in assisting—so it’s a good thing everyone seems marginally independent enough that it’s unnecessary for him to overstay his welcome. the complimentary kissing booth was a… choice, but sungha kept his unsavory comments to himself. some people enjoy it, for their own personal reasons, sungha thinks it’s crass though.

what might be worse is the potential rowdy crowd filled with semi-drunk students rocking their bodies out to the concert music later on. it’s his worst nightmare, the image of sweat and grease on every body within the premises, which is why sungha had every intention of skipping the concert and heading back to his apartment. however, sungha’s carefully crafted plans were thwarted by none other than hyunwoo, who swoops in and drags him away. thankfully, further from the increasingly loud gathering.

“did you wash your hands… among other things?” sungha spotted hyunwoo as one of the athletes in the kissing booth, offering pecks and something a little extra to the higher-paying customers. “how many people have you swapped spit with, hyunwoo? you’re lucky i’m still wearing my gloves,” he chastises, his tone as calm as ever, not at all sounding scornful despite the words he chose to say. hyunwoo should be used to it, the other boy is no stranger to sungha’s obsession with cleanliness, never allowing hyunwoo’s touch to reach him unless he’s spotless.

even though sungha voiced his complaints, he makes no move to turn around and leave. instead, he lets out a small sigh, taking his seat next to hyunwoo. “i know they’re popular,” he comments, referring to the musicians invited to this year’s yeonchella. “i’ve always thought listening to them on my phone was enough. then again, i guess it’d be a bit of a waste to skip their live performances. many fans would kill for this chance. for free, too.”

still, he can't quite run from the fact that there are moments he'd like to share with sungha, and this is one of them. plus, it really is a waste to skip these performances. so he finds himself holding onto sungha's hand, bringing him to a spot he thinks that he might like, working around sungha's needs ( something that hyunwoo can't say he does often for anyone else ).

sungha comments on hyunwoo's time at the kissing booth, and hyunwoo isn't surprised that he does. "of course i washed my hands, and gargled my mouth with mouthwash. plus, i barely swapped spit with anyone," he replies, "the whole idea of a kissing booth is stupid to me," it's true though — hyunwoo can't quite justify why anyone would go to a kissing booth, but then again, hyunwoo's never actually had problems finding someone to kiss in the first place.

he watches as sungha takes a seat next to him, lips twitching into a smile as he does so. cute, hyunwoo thinks, that despite his complaints, sungha is still sitting next to him. it isn't the first time sungha's shown him this kind of treatment, but hyunwoo doesn't allow himself to linger on this thought for long. instead, caught off guard by sungha's next words.

"i just took one shift. was kind of dragged into it," he replies, and he notices the way sungha's lips shift into a smile. "you're fucked," he says, but his voice lacks any malice. "why would you compare yourself to anyone else?" his gaze drifts onto sungha's lips, staring for a moment as they sit in silence, "it's different when i'm kissing you."

he leaves it at that, and shifts his eyes onto the sky. it's a pretty colour; between night and day — a warm yet cold hue as a song plays in the background. hyunwoo wonders if he can paint it — the sky — but even more so, he wonders what sungha sees.

hyunwoo might become one of those people today. mouse likes their friendship. it's easy. hyunwoo possesses a lot of things that mouse lacks; the patience to stand in a seemingly endless line included, and he hadn't even really seemed mad when mouse came up with some lame excuse to skip out on the line and 'catch up in a few'. he's a good friend.

in the moment, though? while mouse is reading those texts and looking at that fucking picture? hyunwoo is dead to him because, yes, like usual, mouse is having a bad day. and he had really been looking forward to that cake.

to: hyunwoo > uh uh > dude what the hell > how did you let this happen ㅠㅠ

he storms back to the area, prepared to go off on hyunwoo for being a fucking idiot and wasting time and money, but then he sees hyunwoo, and the anger kind of just dissipates. he's a good friend. and then mouse sees the squirrel, and it's a big squirrel, so he kind of gets it. still, the disappointment is written all over his face.

"dude," he says, though it sounds more like a sigh. "i..." he takes a few steps toward their cake. towards the squirrel. it stares at him with icing on its face. it's kind of cute. he smiles a bit (though it's still a tired, defeated smile), emotional bomb defused for the time being.

hyunwoo's all about loving animals and shit, but this isn't exactly what he'd had in mind when he started his day and had planned to share this cake with mouse. this cake that he'd spent so fucking long just queuing up for.

mouse makes a point though. does hyunwoo want to eat a cake that's probably been covered with squirrel saliva? it feels like there's no saving it - none at all. hyunwoo scrunches up his nose in thought.

"you know what man," he begins, "you're right, we shouldn't eat a cake covered in squirrel... stuff." is the best way that he can put it. but the squirrel looks up at him -- like it's taunting him. like it's telling hyunwoo hey! i win! and fuck, hyunwoo hates losing. even to a squirrel.

the sound of keyboards clacking is supposed to be relaxing, even soothing. background noise for productivity, like rain tapping against a window or pages turning in a library. but in this study room each key click feeling like a passive-aggressive punch. there’s a specific quiet violence to it, too. the room falls into a tense silence, broken only by the erratic rhythm of their typing. the kind of speed that makes how badly they both want to be done with it awfully apparent. and yet, the task only seems to stretch longer the more they try to get through it. every “mistake” that gets pointed out turns into a string of thinly veiled insults, disregarding whatever it was that they were discussing in the first place.

it’s hard to tell if they’re working together or locked in some sort of virtual duel.

it’s truly unfortunate, borderline tragic, how well they work together. a fact made worse by how often the rest of the student government insists they keep doing it, for the sake of every single underclassman that needs them, their words. typically, jeongmin wouldn’t bother, he’s not exactly a team player, but even he can’t deny the high that hits after they finish a presentation they so clearly aced. the confident delivery, the perfect transitions, the nods from the board representatives. and then, of course, the scattered applause that fills the room like a reward. for once, somehow, it’s not about approval, it’s about winning. and they can’t deny they win best when they do it together.

fucking idiot, hyunwoo thinks -- even though the results he'd produce with jeongmin were always far from that; even though in truth, he knew that jeongmin was the furthest thing away from a buffoon that didn't know what he was doing. and maybe that was what pissed him off most. how well the both of them seemed to work together despite how terribly they got along.

hyunwoo for one, has never been the kind of person to hide his disdain towards anyone he didn't get along with. his words were after all, always curt, sharp and he didn't quite care to 'take care' of the feelings of someone he disliked. that and well, hyunwoo's a really fucking petty person.

he squints at the screen, and grumbles to himself. it isn't that jeongmin is giving terrible ideas, or that his work is subpar. hyunwoo is just annoying, and petty and hates that he's stuck here in the study room with jeongmin of all people. he clicks space -- hard -- and sighs.

tortured artists usually lack any modicum of sleep, staying up throughout the night during witching hours to complete their latest masterpieces. sungha opts to instead occupy one of the art studios in the morning, when the rest of the campus are shuffling for their first classes and the real artists are catching up on their sleep from last night's bender on their canvases. he doesn't have a tight deadline to adhere to, completing every assignment within a reasonable timeframe, leaving enough space for personal projects.

he doesn't consider himself someone with a creative bone in his body. it's his synesthesia that allowed him to see colors and shapes he could paint. perhaps it's his habit of taking visual notes of whatever he hears or sees, his color-coded notebooks being the rawest evidence of this, eventually expanding to painting the sights his synesthesia allowed him to witness. it's quiet too, a moment of reprieve from the business that comes from his studies and the demands of his extracurricular activities.

sungha only needs to add a few finishing touches to his latest work; additional highlights and shadows in certain corners of the canvas. it's then that he hears the familiar sound of the door swinging open, footsteps shuffling in without any sort of proper greeting. such a behaviour could only belong to @hvunwoo, striding over and breaching sungha's silent space. he glances at the boy from the corner of his eyes, acknowledging hyunwoo's intruding presence with a hum.

"i didn't tell you i was going to be here this morning, have you been memorizing my routine?" sungha questions, although hyunwoo's uninvited visit doesn't bother him in the first place. it doesn't surprise sungha that hyunwoo knew where he'd be, sungha operates on a strict self-imposed schedule and rarely ventures away from it. what's somewhat surprising is that there's no overwhelmingly sharp and potent perfume scent assaulting his nose, this time around.

the last time the two of them had been in the same room, it's that same pungent fragrance wafting in the air which caused sungha's head to start throbbing. he remembers it—adorned with golden jewelry and long nails, luxury handbags bleeding their wallets, his mother's voice thundering over him. it's a smell he strongly associates with his mother, certain memories resurfacing as the scent strikes his senses. sungha assumes it had been left behind onto hyunwoo's clothes from his latest girlfriend, and decides to move to another seat, mumbling a small apology and explaining that he had a headache because of the perfume.

"fuck." and fuck is right, he slams the textbook shut, rubs his eyes and grabs his bag; the same one he carries to the art studio frequently. there's no fuss, everything he needs is in there. he unlocks his phone and quickly switches his instagram account to rainyday, just in case he decides to post anything.

it's late, and he doubts anyone is at the art studio. anyone but sungha. and being near sungha is always a treat, something that hyunwoo doesn't quite admit out loud unless probed, but he enjoys being close to the other boy, something about his presence allowing hyunwoo's brain to fall into a comfortable silence, yet all at the same time prying it open enough to keep his attention.

he opens the door, and momentarily watches as sungha focuses on the canvas, smile unknowingly making it's way onto his face, before he takes a few steps towards his friend. sungha doesn't seem to mind his presence though ( then again – hyunwoo thinks sungha's never shown any sort of aversion to his presence ), and hyunwoo knows it isn't anything special, yet he can't help but hope that it is.

"your routine isn't hard to memorize, you move like a fucking robot," hyunwoo comments, grabbing a stool and seating himself next to sungha, "always on schedule." he shifts himself closer, takes a look at sungha's artwork, genuinely studying it, before his eyes shift over to sungha.

"we broke up," hyunwoo says, shrugging with little to no remorse. "you said you didn't like her perfume," he explains, as though that offers any clarification ( it doesn't ). but this way, hyunwoo thinks, he can get as close as he wants to to sungha, without the other boy getting uncomfortable.