kafka's blog

[Markhyuck AU]

—In which Mark has a podcast where he talks about his best friend.

Thank you for the request! Sorry that this is really late, I was having trouble with my laptop and couldn’t access tumblr. I hope you don’t mind I changed the prompt a little bit?

PROMPT: You comfort Renjun after a fight with his brother, Taeil. | Word count: 735

When Renjun knocked onyour dorm’s door, eyes red with tears and plunged himself into your arms rightwhen you opened the door, you knew something had happened. He had texted youthat morning that he was going to meet with his brother Taeil to tell him abouthis decision to change majors, something Renjun had been pondering since hestarted college with you.

Despite knowing it wasnot what he wanted to do, Renjun still felt guilty about not following hisbrother’s wishes for him to pursue Engineering as his major. Sure, he had theskill—his scores in the college’s admission exam had proved so—but he wassimply unhappy about it. He had spent the whole summer in a slump, and yourefforts to get him to cheer up had done nothing. That’s when you had firstbrought up the idea of Renjun telling Taeil about his wishes to study FineArts, and changing his major. Of course, your boyfriend had been less thanconvinced about it, in fact, he had admitted to you that he was just going toconform to Engineering, after all, he was sure to make money out of it. You,however, didn’t want him to give up on his dream just yet, and tried your bestto convince him to try.

Upon seeing thesobbing, disheveled state of your boyfriend as he sat down on your second-handcouch, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about your insistence. Serving him acup of instant tea (not that you could afford anything fancier as a student),you sat next to him and embraced him, drawing comforting circles on his back ashis shoulders shook with his crying.

‘Do you want to talkabout it?’ You whispered, afraid that he would close himself off to you, andslightly scared of somehow making him feel worse. He shook his head, hiding hisface further in your shoulder, tears staining the fabric of your clothes.

It took a few minutesfor Renjun to put himself together enough to look at you and start talking, buthe eventually did after drinking some of the now cold tea.

‘He didn’t take itwell at all,’ He started, tears pooling on his eyes at the indirect mention ofhis brother. ‘Started raising his voice in the middle of the restaurant,telling me I was failing the family, telling me he wanted something better forme and I didn’t understand how much he was sacrificing for me to be where I am,for me to be happy.’ Renjun wiped his tears harshly, voice shaking withemotion. ‘But I do understand (Y/N), I know he worked two shifts to help mesave up for a car so I could drive myself up here, I know he accepted loans ontop of his other payments—‘ He cleared his throat, willing the knot in it to godown. ‘I just wish he could understand my side… If I tried to studyEngineering, I would never be happy.’

You didn’t know whatto say at first. It was a sensitive situation, one that concerned more hisfamily and him rather than your relationship with him. You knew Taeil had had ahard time taking care of Renjun without their parents directly in the picture,but you had seen just how detached Renjun had been since the moment he went toOrientation for the college of Engineering. Holding his hand, you measured yourwords carefully.

‘Taeil will come to anunderstanding of your choice sooner of later… He loves you, Renjun. And… andanyone who loves you will see just how much it physically pains you to dosomething other than art, how your eyes light up whenever there is a newexhibition in the museum, how you can’t even begin to contain your excitementwhen talking about an artists that you love. It may take a while…’ you bit yourlip, knowing that you were shooting in the dark for this one, ‘but he will cometo that same realization sooner or later. You were born to do art, Renjun.’

Your boyfriend stayedsilent as more tears flowed, but he wiped them away with a shaky smile.

“Can we talk?” She dropped her bags near the door, eyes hazy with exhaustion from the late night schedule. It was eleven at night, and she had barely arrived home. The phone was cradled between her ear and her shoulder, in a position that had her face twisted in discomfort.

“Can we?” He replied, voice sharp and dry, “Or are you just going to ignore me and start crying all over, like this whole situation is my fault?”

She shifted in place, hand anxiously wrapping around the phone as her grip became hesitant.

“Look, I really want to--”

“Apologize? Cut the bullshit. Did you honestly think i wouldn’t be angry?”

“You won’t even let me explain! I’m trying to fix things here, I’m trying to keep this relationship together!” She raised her voice, lips shaking in impotence. 

“This relationship stopped being together when you decided you could kiss a guy in the middle of the fucking club! Just because I didn’t go with you? What kind of fucked up mindset is that?” His voice sounded conflicted, but firm.

“You’ve been so distant... what else was I supposed to do? I felt so alone, like you don’t even love me anymore and I--”

“Shut up. Shut up! I’ve been distant? You mean distant as in not wanting to party every weekend? Excuse me for wanting to be aware of whatever is going on in my life without blacking out!” Now he was screaming, but it all sounded mushy to her.

“We used to have fun together, you’re the one who decided it wasn’t enough...” She was drunk, speech slurred as she took off the dress from the night before. She didn’t remember anything, but had seen the pictures that morning, pictures that were forgotten when she decided to drink once again.

He was quiet for a few seconds, and she almost tossed the phone away, thinking he had hung up.

“I wanted more,” He chuckled, but it didn’t sound happy. “So much more. I loved you,” another pause, his breathing was labored, almost as if he was holding back, “and I wanted us to be together, and domestic and all of that crap. But I can’t--I can’t do that alone. And you obviously don’t want to change.”

Her lips quivered, and she felt dizzy, partly because of the alcohol, and partly because of the realization. Her voice came out in a whisper, still slurred.

“Can I convince you to stay?”

The line was dead silent for a few seconds, and then a sharp intake of air followed.

Jaehyun sat on his desk, leaning back in the chair with his uniform fixed perfectly around his tall, muscular frame, and heaved a sigh. Today was one of those days.

He was a good student, of course. It just seemed like everything was too boring and typical for him. Even his classmates bored him, despite the rowdy nature of his class. Time passed him in a blur. He was detached.

He slammed his head against the desk, suddenly deciding to make a gravity check on his head. It was painful. Really, really painful. It was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Sleeping sounded good when his head was pounding until he was interrupted.

'You know, one day you will have no neurons because you keep doing that.' He scoffed at the female voice. Of course.

"You know, one day I might just tell Johnny to sit in your place and you would be forced to sit with your crush. What was his name again? T..." He was shut by Hyunjung's hands.

"You're such a good friend. Not." She sat down, wearing her headphones and ignoring the male. Great. There goes his amusement.

Jaehyun tried to nap again, knowing Hyunjung would wake him up (probably with a kick) when class began. But of course, his nap was interrupted when Doyoung appeared right in front of his desk, slamming his hands on it.

Jaehyun looked up tiredly. "What's up, Do?" He spoke, dragging the syllables in a sleepy manner.

'There are new students transferring to our class! I heard they're foreigners!" The seatmates looked up, both incredibly uninterested, and then looked down again.

'And you woke me up from my nap for this? Look, it's probably just some girls who will be head over heels for Taeyong as soon as they step into the classroom. Hell, maybe even a guy who falls for Taeyong. It wouldn't be the first time.' Jaehyun hinted with a knowing smile, proceeding to return to his nap. Or trying to.

'Wake up Jae, the teacher is here.' Hyunjung spoke next to him. They followed the usual routine of every day to show respect to the teacher and sat back down once again. Just go through the motions.

'Today I would like to introduce your new classmates,' the homeroom teacher began, voice muffled against the background of uninterested students. The teacher sighed in frustration. She did not get paid enough for this crap. 'Fine, just, introduce yourself or something and take a sit.'

Jaehyun doesn't remember their names, truthfully. They were foreigners, but really, what's so surprising about that? Considering they were at an international high school, the real surprise was when people were not foreigners.

One of the new students mumbled some kind of introduction, and Jaehyun guessed it had been some kind of joke, considering Doyoung was laughing away two seats to the left. The student, however, seemed mortified, hands anxiously rubbing against each other.

Jaehyun snorted, amused. What a way to introduce herself. Fine, she was amusing. Good enough. But she would soon get as boring as any other girl. Except for Hyunjung. Though he seldom counted her as a girl, more of a "bro" than anything.

'I found this opportunity perfect to change the seating arrangement!' Ms. Jung spoke, causing the students to groan, 'Don't worry, don't worry! It'll be a good change!' She smiled, like doing so would change the fact that the students hated the change, and began listing the pairings.

Meanwhile, the new girl stood awkwardly in front of the classroom, tentatively moving to the side when everyone stood up, it seemed, Jaehyun noted, that she was trying her absolute hardest to be as little a nuisance as possible. The other transfer--a guy--had quickly associated himself with Johnny (but then again, Johnny was friends with ninety percent of the school, so it was no surprise.), but the new student seemed mortified to deal with this whole experience.

While changing places, the new girl accidentally tripped and almost fell on Hyunjung's petite form, but the shorter girl picked her up before she embarrassed herself. Jaehyun stared at Hyunjung's unamused face as she turned around, almost laughing at the younger.

'Thank you.' She looked down, embarrassed to meet the glance of the girl she had bumped into.

'Hey, no problem.' Hyunjung offered her a comforting smile and walked off, fist-bumping Johnny as she began talking about her progress on some video game they had all been playing. ("She's really a dude-bro," Jaehyun thought.)

Jaehyun walked to his new seat, looking towards the window and wondering how long it was until he could get out and lock himself in his room to work on his book. He was definitely thankful, as he was not seated next to the new kids. That gave him an excuse to avoid them even more.

Classes started and ended, until the bell for lunch break rang, signaling the anxious students that they were temporarily free from the penitentiary that was Calculus.

Jaehyun stood up lazily, not as interested in freeing himself as his classmates were. Doyoung made his way towards his best friend, noticing Hyunjung in comfortable conversation with the new girl.

'(y/n) right?' Doyoung looked at her, extending his hand, 'I'm Doyoung, would you like to join us for lunch break?'

Hyunjung scoffed, mumbling something about "inviting her first" and "always stealing my new friends."

(y/n) took Doyoung's hand, nodding as she shook it. Doyoung pulled her up, mentally wondering what hand cream she uses because wow, soft hands much?. "Tae, you coming?"

Taeyong shook his head, preparing for a nap. The boys and Hyunjung shrugged.

'Guess you're stuck with us.'

~

The four of them sat down, trays in hand, in one of the outside tables. Jaehyun played with his food, bored once again, while he stared forward, looking at the female two years his senior, who attended the joint University of the school.

Sunhee. His first love. Unreachable. They were all synonyms in his mind.

Childhood friends, soulmates, then lovers. That's how the story goes, right? Best friends discover they're soulmates, fall in love and are happy together. Then why did Sunhee never look at him as more than a little brother?

Frustration was his home, and no matter how much he tried to write love songs, they all came out stingy with pain. He was stuck in ballads of unrequited love. So he left the guitar alone and focused on something that allowed him to ignore those feelings. His book.

He stabbed the chopsticks on the rice, aggressively mixing it. It was one of those "international food" days in the academy, which basically meant the students got to tinker around with utensils they didn't use on a regular basis. Doyoung, Hyunjung and (y/n), who had clicked immediately, stopped their animated conversation to stare at him.

'Uh... The rice was too hard.' He explained in a low voice, shoving a spoonful of it in his mouth, almost choking. He coughed, holding his hand up, and drank a big swig of his water. His face was red with embarrassment when he noticed Sunhee's worried stare, along with his classmates' silent amusement.

'It's so good. I might cry.' He wiped forced tears from his eyes, swallowing the mass of... Whatever he was eating at that point.

'Alright...' Doyoung glanced at Jaehyung, muttering something about befriending only weirdos and the fatal fall of his status. 'So (y/n), you like the school so far?'

'Uh, well, from what I've seen I guess it's cool, yeah... I didn't get much of a chance to explore either way.' The girl answered, still confused about Jaehyun's strange behavior. The taller boy took this as an opportunity to run away from the embarrassment and forced (y/n) to stand, almost knocking off Hyunjung's plate from the table.

'I can tour you!' He spoke abruptly, 'Let's not waste time, okay?' Jaehyun dragged her away towards the library, as (y/n) desperately tried to free herself from his grip. When they were far enough from the tables, he sighed, letting go of (y/n)'s wrist. The girl glared at him, rubbing her reddening wrist.

'Look, just this one time okay I'm sorry, but hey look this place is kinda cool, you can tell Hyunjung to set you up with someone and tour you-' Jaehyun was interrupted by (y/n)'s sharp voice.

'Stop fussing. I can tour myself, just next time try not to get me involved in your personal problems? Good?' (y/n) said, annoyed, as she continued to rub her wrist. Yeah, she could make her way to the classroom alone. Or tried. She could try. It couldn't be that far, right?

Doyoung and Hyunjung sat at the table, staring at Jaehyun's unfinished plate.

"More for us, I guess?"

The bell rang and the classroom filled up with students. None of them were Jaehyung or (y/n), and Hyunjung smirked.

"Damn, they got fast moves don't they?" Someone laughed beside her, and she sighed internally, remembering who her seatmate was. Jaehyun had jinxed her, but he had jinxed himself too. Payback was always her favorite thing... When it happened to someone else.

~

Somewhere around the school gardens, Jaehyun tried to find (y/n), guilt eating away at his stomach. Who knew the school was so big? Plus, why would they need so many gardens if the students spent most of their time inside the classrooms?

He spotted the recently transferred girl, walking towards her and noticing she was wiping her hands on her skirt, a huge smile on her face.

"I saw a puppy."

Jaehyun shook his head.

I hate you I love you You make me so unhappy You are the reason I'm happy I wish you would leave I want you to stay I feel so split You pull me back together Please let me breathe Please leave me breathless

[ nct + feelings series: jaehyun soulmates!au ]

‘What do you mean you're not accepting my work?’ Yoongi grumbled as he stared into the dead, unfeeling eyes of his evil and cruel professor. At least, he seemed dead and unfeeling at that moment.

‘One would think that a Journalism major would be able to comprehend a sentence the first time it was said. I will not accept this poorly executed article, Mr. Min. I could find this text in a report from an eighth-grade procrastinator.’ The professor answered, not caring enough to lift his graying head off the papers he was so busily grading.

‘But you accepted everyone else's! I even went up to a ballet company owner. I did the proper research, I put the sources, I quoted correctly... I did everything by the protocol. Then why am I wrong?’ By the time he was finished talking, Yoongi was a raven-colored bombhead. His cheeks were reddened by the anger and embarrassment, his fists balled up, ready to break something--anything--other than his professor's face.

‘You didn't invest yourself in this work. May I remind you, Mr. Min, that this is no ordinary coverage you're doing. You’re in the Honors program, so act like it. This is mediocre compared to what I asked for, and I am being nice to your little paper. I could have a stuck-up company owner explain to me the story of ballet any day, why would I even want to read this?’ The professor pushed his glasses upwards, staring tiredly into the eyes of his angered student like one looks at a child when they can’t grasp something seemingly obvious. ‘You re-do this, I change your grade. Take it or leave it, Mr. Min, I get paid even if you fail.’

‘I don't even know what you want me to do. I spent a month working on this article--’ Yoongi began once again, unsure of what he was even going to say. His anger had settled down and made way for the emptying feeling of self-doubt. The aspiring journalist stared at the framed articles that decorated his professor's office, the black and white papers fitting almost too perfectly on the white walls. He was almost jealous of the hammered success.

"I'm giving you a chance. You're one of the few students I tolerate. Don't make me change that." His professor offered one last time, his voice falling down in severity.

Just like that, Yoongi ended up standing outside the Performance Arts building once again, hand clutching the corrugated paper that was his article; confused, frustrated and most importantly, unable to believe himself.

“Of course, you would do it, Min Yoongi. Accept a project without knowing what you're supposed to do just because you want to keep a goddamn high grade.”

Yoongi's inner monologue was interrupted when he heard two voices approaching, laughter resonating through the empty hallway of the building. He hid behind the corner, notepad in hand and ready to begin his mission impossible.

’Are you serious? They caught him dancing to the music of Giselle's solo?’ One of the voices, a female one, spoke; a mixture of disgust and curiosity making its way to Yoongi's ears.

’It's not the first time either. Last month someone saw him practicing Sugar Plum's part. That freak is just begging for attention, isn't he?’ Another voice answered, this time a male's.

Yoongi's eyebrows rose from their original position. He had only heard about this "freak" for a few seconds before the dancers began to talk about something different, but it was enough to spark up his attention. Maybe he wasn't an expert when it came to ballet, but he knew how important roles were for the dancers. A man who danced to the female part couldn't get too far, so why risk his career like that? What better way to begin exploring the world of ballet than finding an odd dancer who stood out from the crew?

Now, he only had to locate that one dancer; whom he only knew as "the freak".

Yoongi cursed himself once again for accepting the project once again and picked up his bag, ready to track down his target. He was sure that an easy interview with an outcast of the dancing industry was enough to land him a higher grade. Hopefully.

✑

Hoseok glared at a particular mirror, his reflection returning the glare with the same intensity. He was beyond angry, and he didn't know if it was because of his own stupidity, the tears he was beginning to spill, or the fact that he was sure to get called out during the next practice session.

He couldn't help but blame himself. No one told him to dance that part of the ballet. He decided to do so on his own, and thus, he could only blame himself, which was part of the reason why he was glaring so passionately at the mirror.

Hoseok himself had always been an oddity in action. His facial expressions and general body structure weren't very common and had always earned him more than a few whispered insults. He was always the outsider, and he made sure to never talk to anyone unless he had to. He was strict to himself, even more than his teachers, and he liked it that way. He liked himself that way, and he always felt proud of himself.

But now, now he just felt like an imbecile. An imbecile with a romantic tutu hanging loosely around his hips: as if it wasn't embarrassing enough to be caught dancing the other gender's part, he had to be caught wearing the garment.

Hoseok didn't like saying he was a male. He didn't feel like one, mainly because he didn't know how it felt.

For Hoseok, the line between genders was blurry and ambiguous, and he settled himself in that ambiguity.

For ballet, he had to decide himself, and they only gave him one choice: male.

He had done so well hiding from the public eye, that his slip just infuriated him further. If only he hadn't gotten overconfident and had kept the door locked. If only he hadn't been so cocky, then maybe he wouldn't have gotten caught by the two shadiest people he had ever met. So he glared further into the mirror because he had no other way of getting rid of his anger.