when sunghoon thinks back on this moment months later, he’ll shudder in embarrassment at his behaviour. right now, he’s just a bit of an asshole: the kind of guy to see a cat stuck in a tree and simply continue walking.

sunghoon of course, knowns none of this. he’s musing about how much longer he has to spend in the building when a harsh shove jolts him back to reality from the haze his mind had ventured to.

he stumbles slightly, almost falling into a desk, ultimately regaining his balance easily thanks to years of being an ice skater. he levels a glare at the culprit responsible for nearly making him eat tile, raising an eyebrow at the boy’s lurching gait.

his attention remains on the boy, half curious about the boy and half excessively bored from waiting for class to start. the bustle and chatter of sunghoon’s fellow high schoolers serves only to irritate him as he sees the boy slump into his desk and settle his head down onto the worn wood.

must be tired. still doesn’t stop sunghoon from internally chastising him. idiot. as an athlete… as a former athlete, he’s long since hammered it in to have a hearty and enriched breakfast every single morning.

he’s just about to turn away when a moving figure- seemingly headed straight for the desk sunghoon’s attention has been invested in- enters his field of vision.

sunghoon holds back a sigh. it’s you. he knows you yes, but he doesn’t particularly like you. in fact, one might venture as far as to say that you irritate him. piss him off, even. the frown on his face only deepens when you dart a quick glance around the classroom to make sure no one’s paying attention, to which he quickly looks away.

only for his attention to return back to you soon after. sunghoon watches as you, upon a seemingly clear coast, pull a cold coffee can out of your backpack as well as a pastry. he snorts, what an awfully non nutritious breakfast. you seem to falter a little, hands moving carefully so as to not disrupt the boy’s rest. satisfied with your work, you head back to your seat. 

he’s noticed that you seem to be wholly friendless. which is odd, considering how you behave when no one’s looking. 

now here’s the thing. he doesn’t dislike you because of something you did or still do, well not in the way most people would expect. as horrendously unreasonable as it sounds even to himself, you just don’t make sense.

how could anyone be kind for no reason? he would see you around school just helping people out both without them knowing and receiving no benefit from it. who does that? the reason this bothers him is that it isn’t possible.

love is entirely transactional; this is something sunghoon has observed from the people around him as a child, and that had only been cemented in his circuit as a child prodigy.

people loved him when he was good at what he did. when he ate, slept, and breathed ice skating. they loved how he never missed a day at the rink, never scored lower than the podium at competitions.

fans would do so much for him, but it was all transactional. the second he faltered, made a mistake, stopped being perfect and faltered, so too did their love. when he lost his passion and washed up, so too did their support.

not just love but even kindness is given with the expectation of earning something in return. the fact that you don’t seem to have this motive is incredibly suspicious, and he doesn’t believe it for a second.

there has to be something you’re hiding, and while he might not care enough to set out and find it, he would take extreme pleasure in knowing he was right the whole time when the truth inevitably came out.

you pout as you watch the hustle and bustle of the classroom during your lunch period. you don’t have anyone to speak to, yes, but it isn’t really by choice. you had transferred here this year, only to be slightly taken aback by the cliquey and peculiar culture. your old school was very friendly, enough that your friends knew all about your slightly embarrassing hobby about writing romance stories online even without ever having dated anyone. they would be perhaps 5 out of the 8 likes you’d receive on chapters.

you have never had a problem making friends, but that was back home. this is here. here, the atmosphere is so rigid and chilly that you’d never think for a second about opening up to someone about your pastimes even if you did get friends. in fact, the loneliness had gotten to you so much that you stopped posting full stop, not feeling you understood human relations enough to write about them at all.

so you try helping people, for no reason in particular. it comes entirely naturally to be honest. it’s just that if you can’t make friends with people then this is how you can still be near people.

everyone craves human connection in one way or another, the only difference is if they allow themselves to do so.

now you just watch wistfully as gaggles of teenage boys yell boisterously and raucous laughter fills the air. girls sit with each other, leaning in to hear the hot gossip or simply about each other’s lives.

the sun streaming in through the large windows casts a golden shine over the scene, somehow causing you to feel nostalgic even as you are present in the moment. not to mention the aromas. it’s all you can do to not rob the boy sitting a few desks away from you of his lunch, also alone.

though, once your eyes reach him, they don’t leave. why does he look bored out of his mind? maybe he has no friends like you? actually, that’s highly unlikely. he probably does, they’re just in another class. man, with a face like that, it’s hard to believe people in this class aren’t clambering to hang out around him.

your eyes narrow slightly; considering the wide berth the other students give him, such isolation may be intentional. oh well, not your problem.

not your problem, because what you have to worry about right now is finding friends. it’s harder than it sounds. the noise around the classroom peters out and you settle further into your chair.

oh well. there’s always tomorrow to start making friends.

jake’s eyes are just about to close when the door to the storage room he’s found for himself whips open. great. just when he thought he could get some alone time away from the hordes of people vying for his attention.

now the model genuinely appreciates the dedication people seem to have in supporting him, but. but. there’s this stuffy feeling in his chest he gets whenever he thinks about it nowadays.

he doesn’t like thinking about it, so his solution is just that. don’t think about it.

but now, you’ve arrived into the room and he has a strong feeling his peace will get disrupted. 

jake holds his breath as you curse lightly after stumbling in and closing the door behind you. he feels like a field mouse trying to evade a bald eagle’s notice. in both cases it’s useless, of course.

you gasp, and he winces, trying to prepare himself for the ear-splitting shrieks that are surely soon to follow. and then inevitably a horde of excited teenage girls bustling in. so much for a peaceful lunch.

contrary to his expectations, however, your volume remains to be under 60 decibels as you open your mouth, “woah! i didn’t realize anyone else would be in here, sorry!”

jake raises his brows, slightly confused. don’t get him wrong, while he is indeed what you would call famous, he doesn’t expect everyone to love or even know who he is. he’s met many people who were indifferent to him or seemed to possibly dislike him.

it’s just, that had never happened here. now that he has started going to decelis academy, there hasn’t been a single moment he’s alone or unknown. and that’s, well, the nature of highschool. people would find out a model is attending their school and spread it to all of their friends, or that they had seen him in an ad. that kind of stuff.

so considering school would obviously be full of teen aged girls, whilst roaming decelis’ halls he had never encountered a face that lacked recognition the way yours did.

jake speaks cautiously, but still maintaining his friendly air, “that’s alright.”

you blink, somehow this boy is a little familiar, but you can’t pinpoint exactly where you’ve seen him… oh well, again, not your problem! it seems like he’s open to sharing the space with the way he hadn’t immediately shooed you out. you take a cursory glance around the room, noting a broken fountain drink bottle in the corner.

you step further in the room clearing your throat a bit, “so, do you mind if i stay here?”

right now you’re really not looking forward to going outside and facing everyone. hundreds of people, and none of them as lonely as you.

you don’t know how much longer you can take it, going to school every morning and having the hours crawl by painstakingly slow.

internally, jake assesses how likely you are to bother him and be invasive; taking in your frazzled appearance and rather nervous state, he decides you’re most likely hiding out here for reasons entirely unrelated to him.

he smiles warmly and nods, “sure, you should probably take a seat, though.”

say… you could try making friends with this boy sitting on the ground? sure, it might go awfully wrong and he’d be weirded out by you, but considering you’ve never seen him before now, what’s the likelihood you’d see him after?

so you square your shoulders, ignore the way this boy is incredibly handsome– enough to be a model even– and open your mouth.

“why are you hiding out here?”

the words strike the silent air like a whip and even you wince when they exit your mouth. the way you said it sounded just a tad confrontational and you can see an undecipherable emotion fill the boy’s face as his brows furrow and eyes narrow. before he can open his mouth however, you interrupt in an attempt to not sound accusatory.

“that sounded a bit odd, i just meant i’ve never seen anyone other than me eat alone.”

the boy raises his eyebrows, and slightly embarrassed, you speak yet again.

“not that i don’t have friends!”

you pause, before sighing and deflating.

“actually, why am i trying. i don’t.”

by now jake is thoroughly bewildered, this encounter being the furthest thing from what he expected when you had entered through the heavy metal door (speaking of which, how did you have the strength to whip it open anyways?)

the conversation is so out of left field that jake’s perfectly maintained filter slips for a moment, and he asks, “are you new here?”

you blink a few times before sighing, “yes… how’d you know?”

now there are a great number of things he can say at this moment, that it’s unlikely for you to have no friends unless you’re new, that he has never seen you around before, but what came out is more honest.

“you didn’t know me.”

“what?” you raise an eyebrow, immensely surprised at what this boy (you really should ask for a name so you don’t have to keep referring to him as boy in your head) has just said.

jake panics at his admittedly less than courteous words, so he fumbles slightly in hopes of covering them up.

“uh, i just mean, i’ve never seen you! i know a lot of people around the school, but i don’t think i’ve seen you around.”

he scratches his head sheepishly, hoping you take the gesture and words and think about them instead of the slightly arrogant sentence he had uttered prior.

you nod, definitely not forgetting what he had said just now, but accepting the words as valid reasoning.

jake is a bit nervous, this didn’t fit into his usual case of interacting with others. it never took him this much effort to engage in a conversation and get people to like him.

and yes, you need to like jake, because everyone likes jake. he’s that guy.

the model rakes his brain for something to say before realizing a big glaring point he has missed all along.

“what’s your name?” jake levels another friendly smile at you.

you stare at him, focused on analyzing his features and trying to figure out where you’ve seen him before when the words break you out of your reverie.

you’re quiet for a second, listening to the sound of laughter and cheer that seems to encompass free periods, before you answer him with your name.

jake nods, “i’m jake.”

you frown, a little perturbed, that name is so familiar too. you know there’s no way this is the first time you’ve seen that face paired up with that name, “do i know you?”

in turn, he raises his brows, a little surprised at the question.

“not that i’m aware of..?”

he’s in the middle of figuring out how to say he’s a model which may be where you’ve seen him without seeming conceited when you gasp.

“yes, i do!”

jake waits for you to gush over said modelling, only to be slightly surprised when he’s met with a slight glare and pout instead.

“when i first transferred here you ran into me and made me spill my drink all over myself! and then you just made me write my kakaopay and ran away!”

the boy’s jaw drops open, extremely surprised by what came out of your mouth.

. . .

he struggles to find the right words, but there seems to be none in this situation. especially because he does not remember the encounter at all. he’s a busy person who interacts with countless people every day, and there’s no way he’d remember a one-off incident like that.

especially because he seemed to be in a hurry at the time you met him.

“i’m… sorry...”

you raise a brow, “it’s alright, you paid for it anyway. why were you in such a rush though…?”

“i’m not sure,” jake murmurs, but you’re not done with your commentary.

“the most exciting thing going on that day was the math competition, and that’s saying something.”

jake’s eyes light up, remembering, “that’s where i was going then! the math contest.”

your eyes widen slightly, “oh, i wouldn’t have expected that.”

wait.. is this boy pouting? it seems to be a mix between a pout and a grimace. 

“why not.”

oh gosh, did you offend him? does it sound like you’re saying he doesn’t look smart?

you wave your hands around frantically, not wanting to be misconstrued, “i didn’t mean anything, it’s just–” 

you’re interrupted by a phone notification, and when you glance at your phone it elicits a gasp.

“would you look at the time, sorry, i gotta go!”

you get up and immediately head for the exit without waiting for a response. gosh, this is so embarrassing.

meanwhile jake, is still frozen on the floor, a little upset. you only see him as a pretty face (if you even saw that…) how typical. that's all he is to anyone else, of course.

you’ve always loved the walk home back from school. well, always is a little bit of an exaggeration considering you’ve only moved here a couple months ago.

still, you’ve been watching the leaves fill the trees and spring begin to roll in. your path home is full of life and ardour brimming in the trees and small animals. today is no different of course, you hum slightly as you trek through the journey.

you’re so lost in the tunes pumping through your earbuds that you almost miss the stark pink rectangle on the path in front of you. 

‘huh, that’s odd,’ you think as you bend down to examine it more closely, realizing the object is a flip phone with a bright pink plastic backing. now who in their right minds would leave a phone on the floor? although, it most likely slipped out and fell…

and on top of that, having a flip phone in this day and age is slightly bizarre considering how outdated it is. not wanting to block the pathway, you pick the phone up and settle onto the bench.

maybe if you go through the details, you’ll find some information on the owner so you can return it to them. as old as it is, having a phone is still essential for communicating with everyone in your life and you’re sure whoever this phone belonged to won’t be pleased to lose it.

you power on the phone to go through it, and you find yourself able to go to the home screen immediately.

huh. either the owner hadn’t set a pin, or this phone’s so old it lacks the ability to set one.

which is good for you! it makes it easier to find the owner. but when you open up the contacts and try to check the owner contact, there’s no other form of contact there.

you’re just about to open the email app when the phone receives a message! you panic slightly, almost dropping the phone, but ultimately you decide to ignore the message.

but that’s before your eyes focus on the contents, to which you gasp softly.

unknown number: hey you who’s looking at this phone right now.

should you answer it? it might be the owner trying to contact you… a little odd that they would assume someone has it with them, but they could just be peculiar. nothing that would stop you from trying to return this device to the rightful owner.

unknown number: psst… answer me

unknown number: i have something to tell you

you decide to ignore the bizarreness of the message and respond with a quick: 

you: hello, is this the owner of the phone?

not even 10 seconds pass by before you receive a response. 

unknown number: you could say that. but that’s not important.

unknown number: what’s important here is you, you’re really lonely, huh?

okay, now this is getting really weird. too uncomfortable even for you, who’s always willing to help. but you make one last attempt.

you: sorry, i’m just trying to return this to the owner. if you let me know a meeting place i can give this back to you.

a message pings the phone at the same time yours is sent, causing you to widen your eyes. it’s a photo of you on the bench with a mocking sentence attached.

unknown number: poor little miss y/n. no one’s ever loved her, have they? :(

okay, now this is really fucking creepy. and there’s no way you’re helping them with the phone now. your stomach churns with unease, brain running a mile a minute, and you realize this person is close enough to see you. meaning they most likely left their phone on the road to observe and text whoever picks it up.

like one of those social experiments. except a million times more absurd. whatever. not your problem. you quickly settle the phone on the bench, knowing the owner would eventually come to retrieve it, before continuing on the sidewalk.

it’s only a few paces later when you freeze in your steps and you start to hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

how the actual hell did they know your name? this no longer seems like a (debatably) innocent prank to you.

shivers crawl up your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. suddenly the breeze and peaceful atmosphere don’t seem so nice and the path seems to stretch before you for miles.

just amazing, you curse the world out as you rush home, shoes pounding against the pavement at near breakneck speed.

shit. what the hell is going on?

you lock the door as fast as you can and lean your back against it, breaths coming out as harsh pants.

your mind as an absolute mess right now, severely freaked out by what just happened. you would think someone you know is pulling a messed up prank on you except you had left all your friends several kilometres behind when you moved away.

your hands are shaking even as you make your way to your bedroom and pace around the walkable space. an idea occurs to you and you desperately shoot towards where you had left your backpack.

maybe, without your notice, your mom has labelled your backpack or something, it’s highly unlikely but it’s looking to be your last hope.

knots tie themselves in your stomach as a cursory search of the bag shows it to be the plain thing you have always lugged to school. you sigh, opening the front pocket to get your phone as a natural response, but you freeze.

there, nestled comfortably alongside your phone, is the same pink flip phone you had left on the bench.

your hands tremble uncontrollably as you pick it up. you try to remember if there was an opportunity for anyone to stuff it into your bag, but there’s no way. you were running home at full speed, there was no way you wouldn’t have felt someone try and hold on to you long enough to unzip, insert, and then zip again.

something is wrong, and it’s really fucking with your head that you can’t think of a logical explanation to all of this.

sure enough, when you open the phone, another message has arrived.

unknown number: you didn’t really think you could run away, did you?

unknown number: awww i didn’t take you for a coward, y/n. although maybe that’s the reason no one can seem to love you.

unknown number: a pity.

you can’t decide whether to feel scared or angry, so you settle for a mix of both. it’s probably a good idea to try and find out more about this mystery sender, but that really isn’t something you feel like doing.

so you run back outside your house, bringing a dustpan, and smash the phone on the ground, cleaning up the mess to bring inside and throw out.

now if you see this stupid fucking phone again, it really would be a miracle.

thoughts of mystery senders and bright pink flip phones circle around your head as you get into bed that night, mind forgetting all about boys who spill drinks on you and boys that sit all alone at lunch, oddly isolated for some reason.

you have bigger things to worry about.

your homeroom teacher clearly doesn’t care about your bigger worries, you muse solemnly the next day with a sigh.

here you are, set to spend the next few weeks with the quiet and solitary boy in your class and saddled with extra work. you don’t entirely mind the extra work, but you have an inkling working with ‘park sunghoon’ won’t be fun.

this is what has happened. when you enter class in the morning, everything is going as usual. you haven’t seen that cursed phone again (thank god) and everyone seems to be going about their day perfectly fine.

then your teacher comes in, and begins to speak about a school wide event. she says that other schools are set to be invited, as well as a multitude of other things. all stuff you couldn’t care less about, and so you zone out.

that is, until the classroom goes pin drop silent and you realize maybe you should clock back in.

the teacher, it seems, is asking for volunteers?

“now, i know we have class representatives, but as they already have many other duties, i want to pick two new students for the roles of managing our class’s contribution to the event.”

still not very interesting, but you feign attentiveness. you can hear whispers all around you, people considering if the perks are worth giving up that much free time. ultimately, no one raises their hands for fear of looking eager.

instead, they wait for her to strike.

she calls on park sunghoon, curiously enough, “how would you like to help with the event, sunghoon?”

you can read people, so it’s very obvious a snarky reply might have made its way to his mouth, but you can almost see him swallow it back.

“okay,” he intones instead.

immediately, it’s as if someone has pressed a mute button. all of the potential interest in participating vanishes. you raise a brow, sunghoon seems to be a handsome guy, with no glaringly apparent personality issues, so why does it seem like absolutely no one wants to work with him?

is he a pariah, maybe? perhaps he had caused an incident before you had transferred to the school, and that caused their aversion.

nevertheless, whatever the reason is, interest in working on the school event has dropped into the negatives.

which, of course, means the teacher has to volunteer someone again. and of course, the lucky person has to be you.

“y/n,” the teacher starts, jolting you into attention, “would you like to work alongside sunghoon for the event? you’ll be able to make a lot of friends, and it might help in getting to know the school and its students better.”

you flinch in your seat, a flush settling in your body. this is so damn embarrassing. did she have to call you out like that in front of everyone?

“uh,” your voice cracks slightly and it’s all you can do to not dive under the desk and cry, “sure?”

it isn’t like you have much else of a choice, what with twenty-something pairs of eyes locked onto you expectantly. maybe if you do this they’d actually like you. if they don’t make fun of you for being so obviously friendless first, of course.

you’re still in an almost trancelike state when you and sunghoon are alone in the room with the teacher to receive more detailed instructions after class.

“you two will be in touch often in the upcoming month, so i suggest you exchange contact information, if you haven’t already.” she leaves with a final note.

so now it’s just the two of you. great.

you clear your throat awkwardly, “so, should we exchange numbers?”

the words are uttered with a friendly air as you try to not take his standoffish aura and appearance at face value. never judge a book by its cover, or whatever the saying is.

scratch that- did this bitch just roll his eyes at you? okay, wow, so maybe the other students are totally valid in giving his ass a fifteen foot berth.

“what else?” 

and man, it might seem like a given to him, but it isn’t for you? there’s no reason to be so rude to a complete stranger. especially since you haven’t wronged him.

… nothing that you can remember, at least.

you hum, still being civil, of course. 

“hmm, social media would work too.”

he levels you with an unimpressed gaze, “i don’t have social media.”

“o.. kay?” not entirely sure how to respond, you hand your phone over to insert his number.

he takes it, and you expect him to hand his phone over to do the same, but he doesn’t.

after around half a minute he just puts the cell phone back into your hands, already packing up to leave.

when he notices you standing there in place, not having moved an inch as he’s all but ready to go, he stares blankly at you.

“just text me so i get your number,” sunghoon mutters as he brushes past you.

wow. either you’ve done something wrong to him and forgotten about it (‘like jake did,’ you thought with a chuckle), or he’s just a grouchy person in general.

you’re leaning towards the second, because then it would also make sense why everyone avoids him.

sunghoon is in a very grumpy mood. sure, he wouldn’t go as far as to call you the bane of his existence but considering how often the corners of his mouth have pulled down into a frown in the past week, you might be close.

‘although,’ sunghoon muses, ‘it’s been getting better…’

most notably, despite your initial interaction and the following few being quite stilted, mostly courtesy of one standoffish park sunghoon, he’s noticed a sort of reluctant peace start to settle between the two of you.

from you, because annoyingly enough you don’t seem to have a mean bone in your body, and also from him because as much as you bother him, you intrigue him.

how are you possible?

and that’s where he is right now. sunghoon discreetly looks at you from his end of the storage room.

this week, the two of you are taking inventory of the school’s supplies in order to see what needs to be ordered. unfortunately, there are a lot of storage rooms across your school buildings. like, an unsettling amount.

the number causes an odd feeling to arise; considering there are so many, what are the odds that you would happen to stumble upon the one that contained jake? funny how things work out, isn’t it?

back to the point, you try to ignore sunghoon’s gaze digging into the back of your head as you rummage through the shelves on your side of the room and make notes on a clipboard.

eventually, though, it’s too much.

“what.” you force out before tracing back to suck any annoyance out of your tone, “i mean, is something the matter?”

sunghoon just stares at you cryptically, a slight smirk arising at your slip up. so you aren’t little miss perfect all of the time. funnily enough, this doesn’t sate him and instead he just grows more keen on seeing you lose your composure.

‘that’s right, you don’t like being nice all the time do you?’

before sunghoon can try and calculate what to say to irritate you, though, the words just slip out, “why are you so nice all the time?”

you raise an eyebrow, “am i?”

he gives you an unimpressed look, but doesn’t bother speaking so you continue.

“i don’t think i’m nice. i get really frustrated at people and i’m not always polite or courteous,” you ramble.

now this is interesting. sunghoon is downright flabbergasted, because what did you mean, you’re not nice? 

“i’ve seen you help people out all the time,” sunghoon blurts out, realizing in hindsight he’s exposed himself.

you nod at him, deciding to ignore the fact that apparently you have been getting observed for a considerable amount of time.

“okay, but i consider that basic human decency. kindness, if we’re stretching it.”

his forehead scrunches and you hate that the mannerism gets marked in your head as ‘adorable’ before you reel yourself back and remember he’s been… kind of a dick to you.

although, considering the way everyone avoids him… maybe he’s just kind of a dick in general?

you are pulled from your musing when sunghoon speaks after his extended silence, “what’s the difference?”

you let out a startled, “huh?”

sunghoon shakes his head, his state of utter bafflement temporarily draining the previous irritation out of him, “between kindness and niceness, what’s the difference?”

“well,” you struggle to find a way to put it into words, “being nice is like being polite to others and having manners, like saying please or thank you. being kind… i think it’s more about other people and treating them well. caring.”

when he’s silent, you continue, “you can be kind without being nice, and you can be nice without being kind. the latter… is pretty common, considering how often people want to use others for their own gain.”

a certain light of understanding enters the boy’s eyes and you believe he’s starting to see your point, but sunghoon’s next words prove that wrong.

“kindness doesn’t exist.”

your eyebrows shoot up. what in the world is this guy talking about?

“of course it does, maybe it’s hard to be kind to strangers, but i’m sure you’ve experienced kindness from those that care about you.”

a frown settles on his face, and it’s like all the openness to discussion he had started to gather has vanished in an instant. sunghoon is akin to an ice cold wall.

he turns away from you, back to the shelves on his side of the room, cleanly killing the conversation in a few gruff words, “let’s get back to work.”

you sigh, turning and following suit, before you almost tip the basket you’ve started to peak into at his next words.

they find your ears in a faint whisper, almost as if they had not meant to be said aloud, “if kindness exists, i’ve never felt it.”

the words bring an immeasurable ache into your heart, despite this being your first proper conversation with him.

sure, he’s rude and unnecessarily curt with you, but he hasn’t gone so far as to be unkind. everyone deserves to receive warmth, to be nurtured and cared for.

of course, you sure as hell aren’t going to be the one to try and nurture him, it really isn’t your job.

that still doesn’t stop you from feeling a note of sympathy and sadness for the boy as you continue your inventory.

sunghoon is in a very grumpy mood. sure, he wouldn’t go as far as to call you the bane of his existence but considering how often the corners of his mouth have pulled down into a frown in the past week, you might be close.

‘although,’ sunghoon muses, ‘it’s been getting better…’

most notably, despite your initial interaction and the following few being quite stilted, mostly courtesy of one standoffish park sunghoon, he’s noticed a sort of reluctant peace start to settle between the two of you.

from you, because annoyingly enough you don’t seem to have a mean bone in your body, and also from him because as much as you bother him, you intrigue him.

how are you possible?

and that’s where he is right now. sunghoon discreetly looks at you from his end of the storage room.

this week, the two of you are taking inventory of the school’s supplies in order to see what needs to be ordered. unfortunately, there are a lot of storage rooms across your school buildings. like, an unsettling amount.

the number causes an odd feeling to arise; considering there are so many, what are the odds that you would happen to stumble upon the one that contained jake? funny how things work out, isn’t it?

back to the point, you try to ignore sunghoon’s gaze digging into the back of your head as you rummage through the shelves on your side of the room and make notes on a clipboard.

eventually, though, it’s too much.

“what.” you force out before tracing back to suck any annoyance out of your tone, “i mean, is something the matter?”

sunghoon just stares at you cryptically, a slight smirk arising at your slip up. so you aren’t little miss perfect all of the time. funnily enough, this doesn’t sate him and instead he just grows more keen on seeing you lose your composure.

‘that’s right, you don’t like being nice all the time do you?’

before sunghoon can try and calculate what to say to irritate you, though, the words just slip out, “why are you so nice all the time?”

you raise an eyebrow, “am i?”

he gives you an unimpressed look, but doesn’t bother speaking so you continue.

“i don’t think i’m nice. i get really frustrated at people and i’m not always polite or courteous,” you ramble.

now this is interesting. sunghoon is downright flabbergasted, because what did you mean, you’re not nice? 

“i’ve seen you help people out all the time,” sunghoon blurts out, realizing in hindsight he’s exposed himself.

you nod at him, deciding to ignore the fact that apparently you have been getting observed for a considerable amount of time.

“okay, but i consider that basic human decency. kindness, if we’re stretching it.”

his forehead scrunches and you hate that the mannerism gets marked in your head as ‘adorable’ before you reel yourself back and remember he’s been… kind of a dick to you.

although, considering the way everyone avoids him… maybe he’s just kind of a dick in general?

you are pulled from your musing when sunghoon speaks after his extended silence, “what’s the difference?”

you let out a startled, “huh?”

sunghoon shakes his head, his state of utter bafflement temporarily draining the previous irritation out of him, “between kindness and niceness, what’s the difference?”

“well,” you struggle to find a way to put it into words, “being nice is like being polite to others and having manners, like saying please or thank you. being kind… i think it’s more about other people and treating them well. caring.”

when he’s silent, you continue, “you can be kind without being nice, and you can be nice without being kind. the latter… is pretty common, considering how often people want to use others for their own gain.”

a certain light of understanding enters the boy’s eyes and you believe he’s starting to see your point, but sunghoon’s next words prove that wrong.

“kindness doesn’t exist.”

your eyebrows shoot up. what in the world is this guy talking about?

“of course it does, maybe it’s hard to be kind to strangers, but i’m sure you’ve experienced kindness from those that care about you.”

a frown settles on his face, and it’s like all the openness to discussion he had started to gather has vanished in an instant. sunghoon is akin to an ice cold wall.

he turns away from you, back to the shelves on his side of the room, cleanly killing the conversation in a few gruff words, “let’s get back to work.”

you sigh, turning and following suit, before you almost tip the basket you’ve started to peak into at his next words.

they find your ears in a faint whisper, almost as if they had not meant to be said aloud, “if kindness exists, i’ve never felt it.”

the words bring an immeasurable ache into your heart, despite this being your first proper conversation with him.

sure, he’s rude and unnecessarily curt with you, but he hasn’t gone so far as to be unkind. everyone deserves to receive warmth, to be nurtured and cared for.

of course, you sure as hell aren’t going to be the one to try and nurture him, it really isn’t your job.

that still doesn’t stop you from feeling a note of sympathy and sadness for the boy as you continue your inventory.

finally. after a long hard day of, well, avoiding pushy fangirls and brown-nosers, jake has glimpsed some freedom.

he finds himself enjoying the breeze on a local park bench instead. it’s close enough to decelis that he still flinches every time he hears a high-pitched noise, but finding peace is not impossible.

especially when the park is full of families having fun and apparent couples lazing on the grass. it’s not often he gets to experience an atmosphere like this. not often that he’s allowed to pause and allow himself to feel the moment long enough to experience anything at all, actually.

it feels as if most of his time is spent in making connections, modelling, events and the time he does get to spend at school is used up dodging people who want to talk about said activities.

it’s downright exhausting, and it’s to the point jake considers dropping modelling several times a week. the issue, of course, is that he loves it. to him, it’s a form of art, especially when he can see all of the incredible content created from him. it’s like a part of him is permanently out there for people to know and experience and that’s just amazing to him.

an impasse. 

but enough rumination, right now is his time to truly feel peace and enjoy the ambiance the fresh air and trees provide.

that is, until someone goes crashing to the ground in front of him. 

jake did think that a block of pavement jutting at an angle from the previous would be an issue, but seeing the stray train of thought come to fruition is unfortunate.

what has just happened settles in, and jake scrambles off of the bench, mourning his peace only a little bit after taking in the familiar decelis girls’ uniform.

“oh my god, are you okay?” his hands hover hesitantly, twitching in the air uselessly in response to the girl’s groan filling the surroundings.

when you turn towards the boy to reassure him that ‘yeah, i just got my shit rocked in front of you, but i’m fine!’ you instead end up gasping when you notice who it is, “it’s you! coffee boy!”

jake is a little astonished, since when is he coffee boy? “hey! i have a name.”

you furrow your brow a bit, and he can’t tell if you’re trying to remember said name or that’s pain on your face.

“jake! right?”

he ignores the odd, new feeling of someone having to confirm his name instead of intuitively knowing it before he even says a word and nods, “and you’re y/n.”

he’s not sure if he would have remembered your name were it not for the way your last encounter with him went.

you nod enthusiastically, before frowning at the sting you feel on your knees. it seems the right one is slightly skinned. you frown, contemplating what you should do, still on the floor.

jake clears his throat, “you, uh, should probably do something about that.”

you raise an unimpressed brow, as if to say, ‘what, pray tell, should i do here in the middle of the park?’

but, not one to be discouraged, you reach into your bag, frowning and dumping one of the pockets contents onto the ground in search of what you need. you cheer slightly in triumph, grabbing the handkerchief around your skinned knee for now.

good enough until you get home.

you hear jake chuckle and fix your gaze back on him, confused as to what’s funny in the situation right now.

he smiles, pointing at an item from your backpack, “you’re still carrying a flip-phone around in this day and age?”

the blood evaporates out of your body. you don’t want it to be true, but as you follow his finger with bated breath, your heart stutters as your gaze lands on it.

it, being a bright. pink. flip-phone.

unbeknownst to you, jake frowns in confusion as he notices the drastic change in your demeanour. he remains dumbfounded as you flounder, shoving everything back in your backpack whilst completely ignoring the object.

he doesn’t even have the time to question you before you bolt away, leaving him and the flip phone.

jake’s unable to hold his curiosity back and he picks up the phone. he almost drops it at the message sitting on the home screen that greets him.

unknown number: hey, you’re not supposed to look at this! (¬_¬)

just what the hell is this? jake shrugs off the unnerving feeling and pockets the cell, deciding he’d give it to you eventually when you spoke again. although with the way you ran off, you didn’t seem too keen about it.

the model is utterly confused, but. oh well. he supposes being strange is one of your character traits.

unbeknownst to him, the phone would appear back in your backpack as soon as you arrive home.

jake would not find the flip phone later and would anxiously assume he lost it– or that you took it back without him knowing. 

the second thought would lead to a misunderstanding later down the line, but that is currently unimportant.

when you finally burst into your bedroom, you’re hyperventilating. a cacophony of frantic thoughts swim around in your head, trying to find some way, any way, to rationalize this. except there’s no rationalizing it.

while you have always been open to the supernatural, by no means are you a quote unquote believer, or anything near the like.

so this is way beyond your scope.

you pace around your room, trying to consider what options there are. clearly, unless you have a devout and incredibly skilled stalker there is no human possibility for the occurrences so far.

with the hypothesis that what’s haunting you is indeed supernatural, what are your possible courses of action?

well, telling someone definitely won’t work out, not to mention the fact that the only people you could possibly tell are your friends, several kilometres away, who are no doubt busy with their own lives. ignoring it has clearly been going well for you so far.

so your only option is to communicate with the mysterious being on the other side and find out exactly what they want. and then hope they leave you alone. how ideal.

you sigh as you dump your backpack on your bed, hoping the flip-phone won’t be amongst your belongings and also simultaneously knowing you aren’t that lucky.

lo and behold, there it is. who would have known such a small object was capable of causing such immense spite? you flick open the phone, bracing yourself for whatever jeering remark is sure to be awaiting you.

unknown number: long time no see, huh? did you miss me?

you roll your eyes and shoot out:

you: no.

the response is unnervingly quick.

unknown number: you hurt my feelings, love. although I suppose you wouldn’t know much about that, would you?

you furrow your brows, having absolutely no idea what the entity is talking about. but before you could even begin to compose a response, another message arrives.

unknown number: alright let's cut to the chase. you’re unlovable.

what. the. fuck. tormenting you constantly isn’t enough, it has to mock you for being perpetually single as well. frustrated, you message back:

you: what do you mean?

unknown number: oh you know exactly what i mean. has anyone ever liked you, a little playground crush, developed feelings? no, because you’re not destined for love.

you don’t believe a word of whatever bullshit this cell phone is spouting.

you: alright, whatever. what’s the big deal.

the next gap between messages is longer, intriguingly enough.

unknown number: you’re an anomaly. a bug. and you know what happens to errors, we get rid of them don’t we?

your brows shoot up, unable to contain the shock at genuinely being threatened.

unknown number: this phone gives you the ability to see how much romantic affection someone will receive in their life ^ - ^

unknown number: you have 0. most normal people have at least 10. crazy, huh? try it out, take a selfie. this phone’s camera shows and tells all.

you roll your eyes, incredibly annoyed. as if. there are so many issues with that statement that you can’t accredit to supernatural abilities. how would the phone have the power to see the future? unbelievable. 

which is precisely why you shut the phone off and toss it somewhere unknown in your room. you can't help the nagging feeling that it may not be the best idea, but what actual power does this phone have?

whatever entity talking to you could message you through the cell and seemingly return it to you endlessly, but you had reason to believe they needed to talk to you for some reason. it doesn't seem like a good idea to just give in and accept whatever it says thoughtlessly.

although there’s no doubt the phone would appear in your vicinity in a little while again and bother you until you open it, right now you just can’t be arsed to care.

what does it mean, ‘incapable of being loved,’ you hadn’t written romance on the internet to other teens for years to be told this. in fact, no doubt your (few) readers are patiently waiting after your final update several months ago. 

you reminisce on the succinct author’s note you had left at the time:

hey guys, i’m moving schools! i’m going to be busy for a few months, but to be entirely honest. i haven’t been feeling writing for a while. i feel like i don’t know how to write romance at all. maybe if i had a boyfriend lol. but yeah, i’ll see you when i get the inspiration or motivation to write again! love you guys.

you snort, what’s happening to you right now might be a perfect romance plot.

finally, the two of you have arrived at decelis again, deciding to split up after bussing together here ‘for efficiency’

as sunghoon walks away after saying his goodbye, a thought strikes you. although you despised that damn flip phone with a burning passion, you’re just too curious.

so you pull the flip phone out of your backpack and point the camera at his back, wondering to see what his number would be.

you almost drop the phone, because what the actual hell? why did a high-school boy have thousands of people destined to love him? well maybe he'll be famous in the future? but that couldn’t be, you narrow your eyes, sunghoon has already earned quite a bit of those points.

the label attached to sunghoon reads as:

87k/90k

so sunghoon is already famous? but why is he through so many hearts so early? you don’t get a chance to ponder on it further because you see sunghoon turn around in your camera.

shit, shit, shit.

you make a split second decision to pretend you’re taking a selfie, which should be believable given the fact that you’re standing in front of a flower bush.

you pray he’s unable to discern the fact that the camera in the flip phone hinge is currently rotated to the outside, not inside, and make a pouty face at the hinge to try and sell the fact.

soon enough sunghoon turns back around and you let out a sigh of relief, not noticing the smile that had been on his face whilst observing you. before your brief calm can last though, you get a message.

unknown number: believe me now? you can target anyone, but i recommend sim jaeyun.

hold on, hold on, the stupid phone’s moving too fast. you raise your eyebrows, choosing to ignore the first question in your response:

you: who the hell is that?

the phone’s response doesn’t help at all.

unknown number: oh that’s precious. he’s a model at your school. you can also target park sunghoon i guess.

your brows furrow, not liking the idea of using anyone like that.

you: what’s so special about those two?

by now you're pacing back and forth, the conversation causing a spike in anxiety.

unknown number: they’ve never loved anyone. meaning we have no data on them. who knows, you could be the lucky girl ^ - ^

you sigh.

you: what does that have anything to do with me? can’t you use your powers to fix this all?

the response back is incredibly infuriating.

unknown number: it’s out of my hands. there’s nothing as indomitable as the human spirit.

oh, this bitch.

you: but why me? couldn’t someone else do this, like one of the other anomalies idk..

it takes a few seconds to get anything back, but what you see chills you.

unknown number: because someone who can’t be loved has no place in this world.

you narrow your eyes, more infuriated than hurt.

you: why the fuck should i listen to you

it’s as though the air instantly intensifies and the world quiets around you.

unknown number: i’ll give you a reason. move back

you shoot out a quick:

you: what?

before immediately receiving back:

unknown number: now.

now usually this kind of command would irk you into stubbornly ignoring it, but a seriously dreadful feeling settles into your gut. instantly you scramble backwards, tripping into the flower bush.

and just as well because as soon as you do, a motorcycle zooms past, on the sidewalk, tearing into the sound barrier as it breaks record speeds.

your hands tremble and you stare wide eyed in front of you, not even able to comprehend what just happened at first.

you tend to get absorbed in tasks, yes, but there’s no way even you wouldn’t have been able to hear the engine of a motorcycle approaching.

the thought of what would have happened to you if you hadn’t moved chills you to the bone. or if the phone hadn’t decided to warn you, or if it chose a more severe threat. you shudder.

the message is clear: ‘i can get rid of you anytime i want.’

you sigh.

you: okay fine i'll figure it out you piece of shit.

you slam the flip phone shut, not giving the other side a chance to reply. huh, that’s really satisfying, maybe you should switch your actual phone to one of these for that effect.

you sigh in frustration, the happiness and satisfaction from finally getting to glimpse underneath sunghoon’s stoic exterior now completely gone. 

the phone’s words run around in your head, haunting you. there’s still no way you were going to manipulate someone into falling in love with you, but you have to figure something out, and fast.

something has to give, and you hope to hell it won’t be the ground underneath your feet.

you’ve been on edge ever since the motorcycle incident a few days ago, constantly paranoid that someone is following you or set to attack you.

it feels like every day is spent looking over your shoulder, and you are, which is probably why you bump into another student so hard, on the way to find a secluded corner to eat in. 

you feel their hands grasp the sides of your waist to balance you before you yelp and jump back, finally realizing who it is when you do.

“oh gosh, i’m so sorry.”

then, remembering your first encounter you laugh, “looks like i’m the one bumping into you now, huh?”

you expect to see a smile or chuckle in response from the usually genial guy, but instead you're met with jake’s expressionless countenance.

you raise your eyebrows, about to ask if everything is alright, but jake interrupts you.

“sorry, but can we talk?”

you’re flabbergasted at the chill permeating his words, but you nod immediately, sensing the mood shift to something more serious.

jake on the other hand is incredibly frustrated as he walks with a brisk pace to the closest storage closet (again, why are there so many?)

you follow, even more confused now that this is apparently a conversation that has to be done in private.

when you turn after shutting the door, jake looks like he doesn’t want to be here at all, which is hilarious because he’s the one who brought you here?

jake inhales deeply before speaking, “be honest, are you stalking me?”

“what?!” your jaw drops, not entirely believing those words actually came out of his mouth. the notion to you is downright insane, because why would you go around stalking jake of all people?

you shake your head, disturbed, “what are you talking about?”

“i keep seeing you around after that first time we met; it looks innocent and coincidental, but you could easily be staging this. not to mention the phone.”

you have no idea what the second part of your sentence means, so you focus on the first part.

“we’re in a high school? we’re probably just in the same place? dude, i promise i’m not following you around, hell i don’t know how you’ve been seeing me when i haven’t been seeing you.”

seeing his unconvinced expression, you continue, “look, while i think being good enough in something to compete is incredibly cool, why would i be stalking a mathlete? i hate math!”

jake looks at you like you have a few screws loose.

“why would you be stalking me?” he repeats incredulously.

you nod.

“i’m a model. if you’re going to pretend you’re not stalking me, at least have a believable defense.”

now this is just ridiculous, you roll your eyes. “yeah sure. and i’ve sold a million copies of a book.”

not done with berating this liar, you continue, “the only model i’ve heard of going to our school is sim jaeyun!”

while jake was initially dead set on confronting you before this turns out like last time, the situation has just gotten bizarre.

“i’m sim jaeyun.”

“what.”

“that’s me.”

you shake your head, feeling like you’re speaking to a child, “no, you’re jake.”

“yes. that’s my nickname,” jake for his part, also feels like he’s speaking to a child.

he snaps himself out of it, “okay fine, i get all that, but that doesn’t change the fact that you forgot that phone with me and i kept it to give it back to you, but all of a sudden it disappeared? i took it with me and then it disappeared. so either you tried to get it back, or someone else stole it.”

a chill runs through you; you know exactly why the flip phone disappeared from jake’s possession. but there’s no way to explain that without sounding absolutely insane.

so you lie.

“i don’t know man, i’ve never seen that phone in my life. i didn’t even know it was in my backpack, which is why i freaked out a bit.”

you shrug, hoping to sell it.

jake stares at you for over a minute, trying to read your expression and determine if you truly were innocent. he must see what he’s looking for, because he sighs, and his shoulders relax.

“sorry, that was a pretty serious accusation. i just, dealt with a similar situation before and i didn’t react quick enough back then and it had severe consequences.”

you shake your head, “all cool. your evidence was mildly incriminating at least.”

he nods, “yeah, but still…”

“i was wondering,” you hesitate, not sure if asking would be going too far, “why are you alone so much? last time i met you, you were eating alone here for no reason.”

and jake could lie. he could brush it off. he could put up a big smile and let this opportunity to open up pass like every other one that’s come his way. and for a split second he’s about to, but then.

jake sighs. It’s not like anyone would believe the world of an odd, bright-eyed girl over him anyways. so even if you did open your mouth and blab to everyone about your conversation, no harm done, right?

“everyone hangs around me because they have something to gain or they’re impressed by some superficial trait i possess. no one sees me. not for who i am.”

you raise a brow, “which is?”

he pauses, not having expected that question and not entirely having an answer, but his mind flicks to one of his biggest grievances. that everyone only saw a pretty face and underestimated his intelligence. constantly.

“... smart?”

you burst out laughing, prompting a flinch from the teenage model. jake frowns at you, sure he doesn’t expect you to understand that even someone like him can struggle, but this is a little cruel isn’t it?

he voices as much, “hey… i bare my heart out to you, and you laugh at me. i know there are worse things, but–”

you interrupt him with wide eyes, not wanting him to get the wrong idea, “no, sorry! it’s just, when you were talking about being seen, i wasn’t expecting you to name something that’s also superficial.

he adjusts against the metal shelf, pursing his lips. “what do you mean?”

“well, intelligence is also something you’re born with, no?”

jake rolls his eyes, surprising you with his increasingly lax demeanour, “that’s something stupid people say to excuse themselves from learning and improving.”

now this actually prompts some derision from you, coming out in the form of an incredulous snort.

“not quite. you can learn things and grow smarter, yes, but some people are gifted with a natural intelligence. i don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right to use that as a metric when it’s not that simple.”

jake hums, contemplating, “what qualities do you look for in people, then?”

“like,” you pause, “loyalty, passion, dedication, kindness, humour, empathy, patience.”

you take a deep breath to continue, but get interrupted by jake, who’s laughing a little.

“i think i get it, that’s interesting. i’ve never thought of it like that before, but… you’re right.”

you smile, a little smug at coming out of this conversation with the upper hand.

jake, in the meantime, runs over what you’ve just said in his head several times. none of the people he surrounds himself with have a nearly similar line of thinking, and it’s exhausting.

hearing from you that the qualities you’re born with are the ones that don’t matter is a breath of fresh air, and jake can’t go back to the smog after experiencing it.

“hang out with me?” jake blurts before he can think about it.

he stiffens immediately and he rushes to clarify, a little upset at himself for being like this.

“not. like, in a date way. i want to be friends.”

you just give him an odd look, “i didn’t think it would be romantic?”

and it’s a little hypocritical, but that mildly offends jake, because why not?

he pouts, “what, why not? are you too good for someone vain like me?”

you laugh and shake your head, “no, no that’s not it. no one’s ever seen me like that, i mean.”

maybe it’s more of the phone’s words ringing around in your head, yelling at you that you’re unlovable, but it’s not like the phone lied. no one has ever confessed to you, or pursued you romantically.

your mind flashes briefly to the boy who left his number for you, but you shoo the thought away. if he was really interested in you, why didn’t he just speak to you? it wasn’t like you had claws or anything scary.

deep in your musing, you don’t notice the dumbfounded expression on jake’s face. how in the world has no one had a crush on you before? sure, it’s not like jake does either, but he isn’t blind, or stupid.

you were kind and pretty. and probably a bunch of those other qualities you had listed earlier. before he can make any sort of response, the bell rings, startling the two of you.

you gasp, looking at jake with a stink-eye, “you took up my entire lunch?”

“sorry, i’ll make it up to you?” jake responds with a sheepish grin.

you shake your head lightheartedly and turn to leave, exasperated but clearly not upset. before you can turn the knob though you feel jake clasp your wrist.

“wait!” he clears his throat, “add my number? so we can talk. and stuff.”

ah, this is so awkward. it’s been so incredibly long since he has made friends authentically.

you smile and agree. your smile only drops abruptly much later, when you’re in your seat and you realize you’re doing exactly what the flip phone wants. guilt fills your stomach and the idea of any of the pair finding out and thinking this is the only reason you became friends almost kills you where you sit.

although unwillingly, you have made progress on target number one. good thing you don’t notice target number two’s intense stare, because it might have truly taken you out.

sunghoon listens patiently as you explain the intricacies of online books versus published books on your way to the weekly event-planning meeting with your teacher.

except, imagine his surprise when you arrive and instead of their teacher there, waiting to cover what they had accomplished in the past week, there’s a bunch of other students?

you stop speaking at the same time sunghoon freezes, also noting the odd situation. simultaneously, the two of you back out to check the room number again.

nope, it’s the right room. 

the two of you exchange a cautious glance before venturing to enter the room despite the students occupying it.

seemingly noticing the confusion apparent on both your faces, a boy with bright eyes who exudes a sort of feline air, (if that’s possible?!), speaks to you.

“are you two part of the event-planning committee?”

you nod gingerly, still feeling a bit like you’ve stepped into the twilight zone, “yes?”

the end of the word pitches up, coming across as a question rather than a response. the boy just smiles kindly.

“apparently, we’re having a monthly meeting with every class’s representatives,” he explains. 

you feel comfortable enough to lead sunghoon into sitting where the boy is, although there are three others clustered there, not really interested by newcomers. there are also other groups scattered around the empty classroom, but you don’t think inserting yourself in any of them would be a good idea, given that they hadn’t looked up in the least when you entered.

they nod at you when the two of you sit down, but leave the introductions to the boy who spoke. it doesn’t escape your notice that literally all of their gazes hang onto sunghoon for a bit before looking away.

you’re starting to believe there’s some kind of lore, for lack of better words, behind why sunghoon is mildly ostracised amongst the school and yet also has an incredibly high love count.

you tear your gaze away from the other boys, however, when the boy who greeted you speaks.

“i’m jungwon, this is sunoo, this is ni-ki, and this is heeseung,” jungwon gestures to each of the boys respectively, who do some sort of acknowledgement upon being mentioned.

“nice to meet you! i’m y/n,” you pause looking over to sunghoon, who looks like there about a million other places he’d rather be right now, “and this is sunghoon.”

you ignore the gnawing idea that they definitely know who sunghoon is and don’t look too keen on meeting him.

instead, you focus on the bright smile you receive from jungwon, “nice to meet you too, so i guess you’re a second year then?”

he’s most likely referring to the fact that you’re with sunghoon, but you respond without acknowledging it, “yes! i transferred here a couple months ago, though.”

jungwon nods, “makes sense why i haven’t seen you around then, ni-ki here is a transfer too!” 

he ruffles said boy’s hair while he says so, ignoring ni-ki’s yelp and complaining that he’s ruining his styled hair. ni-ki doesn’t retaliate though, too absorbed in whatever game he’s playing on his switch right now.

“so,” you attempt to speak casually, “what are we all waiting for?”

this time it’s sunoo, if you remember correctly, who pipes up, “the teacher who initiated this event!”

he continues with an eye-roll, “real classy of him to be running late after emphasizing how important being on time was.”

you smile, endeared by both of the boys' behaviour. it seems jungwon and his group of friends have a lot of personality. even heeseung, who looks to be on another plane of existence thanks to his zoning out.

ni-ki mutters a curse when he loses the level yet again, shoving the switch into heeseung’s chest petulantly, “fine, you can do it for me.”

heeseung just gives a smug smirk back as he gets to accomplishing what ni-ki was unable to do in your short time in the classroom. now that his attention is free, ni-ki finally gives the two of you a good look.

“so how’d you get drafted onto the committee, volunteered or voluntold?” he waggles his eyebrows slightly, and you smile at the clear attempt to be friendly.

you nudge sunghoon’s hand gently, trying to see if he’d like to answer, but when a second goes by, you speak up instead, not wanting the boy to go unanswered.

“voluntold,” you speak with faux dramatics, satisfied to hear a chuckle from heeseung even as he plays and smiles from the other boys.

“yeah, same,” sunoo mourns, pouting exaggeratedly.

you venture a questioning glance towards sunghoon, curious as to why he’s gone back into his shell. noting that the boys have become absorbed into a conversation that you are evidently welcome to join, but does not centre around you, you pull your phone out to send a message.

you: what’s up with you?

when sunghoon feels a buzz in his pocket, he glances at you curiously, putting the dots together. a small smile makes its home on his face when reading, before he responds.

park sunghoon: Contrary to what you might believe, I still don’t like hanging out with people

park sunghoon: This school is unkind

the kindness thing had sort of become an inside joke between the two of you by now, so you could recognize that he’s being playful, but at the same time an undercurrent of truth seemed to run behind it.

instead, you just send a quick response before visibly putting your phone away.

you: they seem nice though, just give it a try.

sunghoon doesn’t respond, knowing you wouldn’t see it anyway. he does, however, consider the suggestion. he’s entirely conflicted. you don’t know what he’s gone through before you transferred here. at the same time, none of these boys are involved with that incident. 

maybe you’re onto something.

for now though, he stays silent, content to watch you interact and bond with these people instead. even though he’s seen it before, your ease in human connection is truly something astonishing to witness.

it’s a gift not many have, to be able to recognize boundaries and communicate at a level that matches your conversation partner.

to your surprise, it’s heeseung who’s been relatively quiet compared to the younger boys until now who suggests exchanging social media. sunghoon raises a brow, but says nothing from where he’s leaning against a desk.

after you’ve given the boys your account, you’re about to perhaps try and suggest exchanging numbers as well so you could include sunghoon, but before you can say anything, a teacher walks in.

presumably the teacher sunoo had been shading earlier.

he talks about compiling everyone’s efforts so far, and so the next hour is spent basically catching up the entire committee on the progress each team has made towards the festival.

evidently, this does not go as well as expected, because the man listens to each recounting with a slight frown, noting that several teams had been exploring the same things and basically doing tasks that others had already done.

he shakes his head as he speaks, “this structure is very inefficient, we’re repeating work like this. instead, moving forward i’ll be dividing you into teams targeted towards different aspects.”

the teacher goes on to make several divisions, including accommodations towards different disabilities, vendors, decoration, entertainment, and the like.

he hesitates, seemingly making a choice between two equally conflicting options, “you can all choose your own groups, i suppose. based on the people here, each team will have five or six people.”

your eyes immediately find sunghoon’s, who’s done the same, before snapping to the other boys nearby after a few seconds. the agreement that you’d be a team seems to fall even without any words.

in the end, you go up with jungwon to write down all of your names under the ‘promotion’ task force. it seems the conflict you had earlier has been solved as, being a team, the six of you have to exchange numbers to make a group chat anyways.

you smile, beyond elated at the possibility of actually having friends, and not ones who behave strangely like sunghoon and jake.

more than that, though, is happiness at the possibility of sunghoon gaining more connections as well. maybe it’s not your place, but sometimes you look at sunghoon and you feel an immense aura of loneliness. 

and it would make you incredibly happy to see sunghoon happy, to see him learn that kindness isn’t so uncommon. because admittedly, at this point you are friends.

although you’ve started speaking to the other boys more after that fateful meeting, you had reckoned you’re more on the level of acquaintances.

apparently not, because during your wandering (jake had some shoot to go to, leaving you unable to have lunch with him) near the gardens outside, you caught their attention. hell, you didn’t even know they hung out here during lunch time, but you supposed it only made sense considering you had never seen them inside before.

you also hadn’t expected said observation to lead jungwon to calling you to them with a, “hey, y/n, over here!”

you look around in confusion, before pointing at yourself with confusion.

sunoo laughs, “no, the other y/n behind you.”

despite knowing it’s a sarcastic joke, you play along and whip your head to look behind you, and gasp loudly at a supposed second y/n.

a shy smile lights up your face when you hear laughter. so you are funny, you had started to think you had lost it with the way you had remained absolutely friendless for so long. 

you make your way over to the group, desperately hoping they won’t notice you’re alone.

of course, this doesn’t happen.

“where were you going?” ni-ki questions, not unkind, but curious.

you cough, a little embarrassed, “the single friend i’ve managed to make so far has other plans today, so i’ve been abandoned…”

heeseung raises a brow, “i think i saw sunghoon sitting alone by the west end entrance earlier though?”

you shake your head, a little embarrassed, “not him, we’re friends, but we’ve never really had lunch together because i don’t know if he wants to?”

jungwon nods with understanding, “he’s always been a bit of a lone wolf, i was surprised to see him so comfortable with you at the meeting.”

“comfortable?” you laugh a bit, thinking he’s making a joke, but no, the boy is serious.

“well, yeah, usually sunghoon’s in a bad mood.” 

he mutters an ‘understandably,’ but then raises his voice again, “but he seemed very calm and at peace. i don’t know.”

jungwon shrugs slightly, ending off with, “just my thoughts.”

sunoo watches the exchange with keen eyes, noting your demeanour and reaction to all of this.

he brings out a bright smile to speak, “anyway, forget that for now, sit with us! now heeseung won’t look like a creep hanging out with first years despite being a third year.”

heeseung yelps with indignation, “hey! if i recall correctly, ni-ki over here is the one who begged me to join you guys. i have third year friends too!”

ni-ki rushes to defend himself, “because you’re the captain of the basketball team! if they see me hanging out with you, they’ll think ‘oh, he used to be captain’s friend’ when we’re deciding the captain next year.”

heeseung shakes his head, “see, they just use you.”

you hold your hand out for a fist bump from the teen, laughing at the third year’s scandalized expression, “he’s just trying to be a nepo-baby. i don’t see an issue.”

jungwon laughs, “that’s not– well, i guess.”

you have an incredibly enjoyable lunch with the boys, sunoo making sure to let you know you’re always welcome to eat with them. they’d usually be out here, but if they aren’t you should shoot a text and they’d let you know where they are.

as he speaks, a chime comes from your backpack, and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from pulling the flip phone phone out and smashing it on the concrete.

you know it’s that stupid phone because yours is currently in your pocket. while you’re tempted to see whatever taunt the entity has left you now, you’re not keen on shooting your blood pressure through the roof.

so there it lies, in your backpack, ignored as you laugh along with the boys’ jokes and converse with them.

life at decelis is finally looking good.

despite the boys’ insistence that sunghoon seems to be comfortable with you, you can’t shake off the fear of bothering him.

sure, they think he looks like he enjoys being in your presence, but considering what you know about sunghoon, you’re unsure. which is why the next time jake’s unable to have lunch together (another photoshoot.) and you’re left alone, you hem and haw.

conflicted between sitting next to sunghoon or sending the boys a text like they had encouraged you to do, instead you end up doing neither and glare holes into sunghoon’s lunch.

unfortunately, as anyone would, sunghoon notices the intense gaze being levelled at him and catches your eye, startling you. he raises an eyebrow, both amused and exasperated by your focus.

you shake your head as sort of a ‘it’s nothing, disregard.’

of course, sunghoon doesn’t care and he gestures you over anyways. you sigh, well whether you like it or not the choice is made for you now.

you make your way over to sunghoon’s desk, trying hard not to focus on your fellow classmates’ curious eyes and whispers. yah, sunghoon is such a headache.

he doesn’t speak even when you arrive, staring at you until you pull a chair to sit across from him at his desk.

“so what was the laser focus for,” sunghoon’s tone seems to be teasing, but you can’t exactly discern if you’re right.

you mumble, “was wondering if we should use this time to speak,” and then you notice his blank stare and panic, backtracking a bit.

“i mean. about planning for the festival.”

“planning,” somehow sunghoon doesn’t seem convinced and you don’t want to figure out why that is.

you still don’t meet his eyes, “right.”

“without the rest of our team,” ah, there it is.

you nervously laugh it off though, “yeah, that’s why i was considering it, we’d have to find the others as well.”

you wonder how speaking to sunghoon had seemed so easy before, when now it felt like his eyes are capable of gazing uncomfortably deep into your soul. he looks around the classroom, noticing several people jerk their attention away after being caught, and rolls his eyes.

sunghoon gets up, which wow, you knew maybe you aren’t the best company, but that’s a tad rude?

to your surprise however, he looks expectantly at you when he’s standing.

“let’s go for a walk,” sunghoon finally says when it seems the brain waves he’s sending your way aren’t being received.

you nod dumbly, a little stunned as you follow him out of the classroom.

when you’re a good distance away and now roaming the sparse halls, sunghoon finally speaks.

“there were way too many people paying attention,” he sighs, “i’ll never understand the interest in other people’s business.”

you bite back the retort that it’s less other people’s business, and more his business they’re interested in, fearing this talkative (for him) mood sunghoon’s in will disappear.

and despite your initial reasoning that this interaction is for the event, you don’t bring up the planning at all, instead choosing to mention that your neighbours got a dog instead, and that it kept you up at night.

sunghoon’s eyes widen slightly at your choice of topic being completely unrelated to the festival, but he chooses to simply respond to what you’ve said instead.

and so you make rounds, talking about anything but the event. embarrassingly enough, you even spot your team members at one point, although sunghoon doesn’t notice them and it seems jungwon’s the only one who notices you, sunoo being in an animated discussion with ni-ki and heeseung being missing.

he smirks at the two of you, while you just narrow your eyes, daring him to say something. jungwon shakes his head and looks away, letting you off the hook for now, but definitely planning on bringing it up later.

well. that’s later you’s problem. for now you can relax and enjoy the rich timber of sunghoon’s voice along with the admittedly pleasant decelis atmosphere.

you guess its inherent clique-y-ness isn’t so bad once you actually have people to hang out with.

now that you have sunghoon to hang out with. you’ve spoken and interacted with sunghoon countless times over the past month, but this is the first time you feel that the circumstances with the event planning have nothing to do with it. like sunghoon actually enjoys your company.

so of course you have to open your big mouth and ruin that.

in an attempt to prolong the conversation, even as the toll of the bell looms closer, you say the following:

“by the way, did you know there’s a skating competition happening at the rink near decelis this weekend?”

immediately, it’s as if the vitality has been drained from sunghoon.

he freezes, then when you stop walking as well, he puts on a neutral expression but it looks wrong. forced.

“really? that’s… cool.”

you furrow your brows, “is something wrong?”

and wow, that’s something sunghoon’s wanted someone to care about for years. for just one person to look at park sunghoon and not see an ice skater, incapable of (forbidden from) messing up. for them to see a human being pushed to the brink, desperate to live up to the expectations.

just for someone to ask, even.

he chuckles sardonically, “no. yes. i don’t know.”

“do you want to… talk about it?” you venture tentatively.

sunghoon shakes his head, “no.”

but then he adds on after a few seconds, “not now at least.”

right before you’re set to enter the classroom, sunghoon grasps your shoulder and pulls you back gently to mutter. you stiffen, his mouth is way too close to your ear, it feels intimate.

“thank you for asking,” he pauses, “and caring.”

before you can compose a response, he lets go of your shoulder and brushes past you to rush inside.

you grasp at your ear robotically, eyes wide, and inexplicably flustered. you didn’t know why you felt so affected, but it’s a euphoric feeling.

after several last minute commitments and cancellations, it’s finally time for you to eat lunch with jake again. admittedly, while you want to get pissed off at the guy for blowing you off several times in a row, you can’t.

in your opinion, it’s understandable that he doesn’t have much time to dedicate outside of his literal job. although with how often he’s running off and missing school, you’re surprised it’s still legal.

aren’t there some child labour laws that should be getting enforced?

regardless, it’s been around a week since you’ve last seen jake, and you’re not ashamed to admit you’re excited to see him again.

you wait in yet another of decelis’ storage closets, this time you and jake actually planning to meet there instead of happening to meet or getting dragged there.

while you wait you decide to examine your surroundings with a bored gaze. nothing interesting, except for the fine film of dust coating everything and causing you to sneeze every five seconds.

it seems this closet is especially unused.

unfortunately, jake enters during a loud sneezing fit and it’s evident on his face that it’s all he can do to stop himself from bursting into laughter at your state. 

he shakes his head, amused, “i think we should probably go out to eat.”

“wait no, i’m fine! i just–” you interrupt yourself with a thunderous sneeze, “need to get used to it…”

this time the gaze he levels at you is deadpan, as sort of a ‘really…?’

but to save you from embarrassment, jake disregards the blatant lie, “it’s fine, i forgot to pack a lunch anyway. let’s go.”

you sigh, getting off the floor and only mildly cringing at the dirt that’s collected upon you during your stay in the space. maybe jake is on to something; you can only imagine how many diseases you’re possibly contracting.

“so, where were you thinking?” you ask curiously, struggling a bit to keep pace with jake’s speed.

if sunghoon is like the winter: cool, arid, and measured, jake is the summer: energetic, loud, and headlong.

you wonder what would happen if the two were to meet, a friendship for the ages, or an intense showdown? of the unstoppable force versus immovable object kind. you’re pondering who would be which when you’re pulled back to reality by a hand waving in front of your face.

“hellooo?” this doesn’t seem to be jake’s first time calling you.

you respond quickly, embarrassed, “yes, sorry?”

he snorts, “man, i thought you were just quiet because you were hungry, but you were on a whole other planet just now.”

any possible protest is cut off when you realize the two of you have actually arrived at some of the mom-and-pop restaurants that had set up near decelis, attracted by the hub of student activity and guaranteed customers.

you muse, “hmm, will we make it back in time?”

“doesn’t matter,” jake’s smile is something between mischievous and eager, “what’s one skipped class?”

you smack his arm slightly, “you of all people have no right to say that, you’ve probably attended what, six classes so far?”

when jake gasps in mock offense, claiming he’s not that bad, you give him an unimpressed stare.

“do you even know your teacher’s name?” you squint at the boy.

“of course, it’s…” jake flounders, before whining, “you gave me a hard one.”

“sure i did,” you roll your eyes, “have you chosen what you want to eat yet?”

jake’s responding silence tells you everything you need to know, his sheepish gaze meeting yours when you glance at him.

“what’s good here?” he ventures.

you shake your head, exasperated, “i bet you hadn’t even looked at the menu yet.”

“i heard their yangnyeom chicken slaps, though,” you add on, deciding to grant him mercy.

jake hums in acknowledgement, but he looks a bit… hesitant.

then it clicks, “wait, are you not allowed to eat stuff like that?”

he is a model after all…

seemingly caught, jake looks at you in surprise, before rushing to deny, “no! if it’s just once…”

you shake your head, “i was planning on just eating this later, but i had some bibimbap for lunch if you want to eat that?”

it would be considerably healthier after all.

and if you had any doubts earlier, the exhale of relief that jake lets out is enough to tell you that you made the right choice. 

(unfortunately you lose in another battle for paying for your food; although this time you genuinely feel you have no grounds as jake insists it's the least he can do after taking your lunch. touché.)

when you eventually receive your order and settle down at an outdoor picnic bench with jake, you pull out your tupperware, a pair of chopsticks, and a spoon to give to him while speaking.

“it’s really not my business, but are you okay with such a strict diet?”

jake shrugs, “it’s alright. it’s not like i never eat anything i want to, but sometimes it is frustrating.”

you look at him curiously, setting up your own food, “you like modelling in general, though?”

jake pauses, thinking it through thoroughly for the first time in a while, “... the verdict is still up. it can be very satisfying. and yet i can’t decide if it’s worth the sacrifices it comes with. this shit tastes so good by the way, did your mom make this?”

you laugh at the dichotomy between his dialogues, only laughing harder when jake sends a confused puppy-esque look your way. 

eventually upon calming down, you let him know, “actually, i made it. and by sacrifices do you mean like. missing out on school?”

jake’s jaw drops open slightly, “no way, you made this?”

you narrow your eyes, “what, you don’t think i can?”

he laughs, “no it’s just… you should open a restaurant or something. it tastes like home.”

the wistful light in his eyes leads you to believe you should probably leave the earlier line of questioning alone, so you don’t bring it up.

still, after a few moments of eating in quiet peace, jake speaks up, “it’s less school and more… i miss having friends. i used to be on the football team in middle school, and we would all goof around. i can’t get that anywhere now.”

“nowhere?”

he sighs, “you know, i meant it when i said people only see a pretty face, earlier. if guys aren’t pissed off at me because their crush likes me, they’re jealous that i get good grades. or some other inane bullshit.”

you consider his words, before speaking quietly, “i think you just have to find the right people.”

“believe me,” jake rests his cheek onto one of his palms, leaning an elbow on the table, “i’ve tried.”

and maybe it’s not your place, but you cautiously suggest, “actually, the friends i’ve made here have been nothing but kind and nonjudgmental.”

now jake is looking at you with suspicion, “you’ve only been here a couple months! and just a little bit ago you were saying you had no friends. zero.”

you roll your eyes, “well you don’t have to rub it in. and yeah, i probably don’t know the extent of their character, but sometimes you can just tell. the kindness someone shows you when they have absolutely no reason to, it sticks. and also i’ve been friends with one of them for over a month now!”

the boy mutters, “very impressive,” with sarcasm, but he seriously considers what you’re saying.

sure, you could be wrong, but the feeling you're describing is the same one he had about you. that ‘this is a good person, and i’ll remember them for the rest of my life.’

jake gives in, “alright, introduce me to your friends.”

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