Chapter Text
“I am a first-year, and I-”
Keonho pauses to stare at the plush penguin sitting at the edge of his bed.
He’s been waiting for a bout of inspiration to hit him, unfortunately, inspiration doesn’t know that he has a time limit till Wednesday after school.
Apparently they have rehearsals for the speeches that day, which really he has Seonghyeon to thank for even telling him. He’s pretty sure that James probably dropped it somewhere in the middle of his boring presentation for what the responsibilities of freshman representative look like.
“Ugh,” he groans before staring again at the blank sheet of paper in his hands.
He knows that they’re allowed to get at least one cue card to bring with them when giving their speeches, which he thought had been a short-cut, but now, coming face to face with the fact that he has no idea how to give a speech, he’s less confident in his abilities.
Slumping in his chair, his hand lingers over Seonghyeon’s contact number, before swiping it away and calling his sister instead.
It barely rings once before she picks up.
“Keonho? Are you okay?”
His lips twitch upward unknowingly, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. You don’t have to be so stressed all the time.”
Her laughter rings the room, “I know. You can handle yourself.”
He turns the chair to spin, “Exactly, but I do have a problem.”
“What is it?”
“I’m, well, uh running for the freshman representative thing-”
It’s silent, and then, “Keonho! That’s great, you know whenever I’d talk with Juhoon, we would-”
He coughs in embarrassment, “Stop it, I already know. He’s been on me about this for far too long.”
She hums excitedly, “Well still, I think it's great. You’d do well.”
“Sure,” he tries to not cringe as the blank paper crinkles underneath his left hand.
“Wait so why is this a problem?”
“Right, right, so I need a speech, or I have to give a speech, and-” his voice wavers off near the end of his sentence, “well, I was thinking maybe you could help me?”
The last word slips off his tongue in a high pitch before his sister begins to laugh again, “Keonho, I’m not writing your speech for you-”
“I’m not asking you to! I just want some guidance or some pointers, nothing like writing the whole thing for me.”
His voice sounds awfully young, which tends to be the norm whenever he talks to her.
She sighs, “You need to do this yourself. If you need pointers on speaking, try to search them up online, but you’re speech has to come from you.”
He groans, “But you’re good at this stuff, can’t you give me a hint?”
He can almost see her deadpanned stare, “This isn’t a game, there aren’t hints to give out.”
“I’ve been trying for an hour, and nothing’s coming to mind. I can introduce myself, I think? But what comes after?”
“That’s something you’re supposed to be able to answer, idiot.”
He thuds his head into the desk, which only makes her laugh harder.
“You’ll be fine Keonho,” she pauses, “plus, I know you can do it, which’s why I’m not going to help you write your whole speech.”
There’s a gap for him to answer or respond, but then the call cuts, her voice exiting his room.
“I just wanted a hint,” he mumbles to himself before spreading the paper thin on his desk.
Abandoning the paper for his bed, sleep barely arrives until it becomes Wednesday morning, far too early for Keonho to be up, but their swim coach doesn’t care.
They have swim practice at 6:00 AM, and it runs along for two hours before school starts. The sounds of wet feet slapping the tiles echoes the gymnasium as the rest of the varsity team enters to line up and do the morning stretches. They’re all lined up, listening to the Coach, but also not really. He catches one of the seniors shutting his eyes before a whistle blows at him.
“Hajoon! Listen properly, we start swim meets next week.”
“I heard that, I was just resting my eyes,” he explains, but his groggy voice gives it away.
The coach only sighs, “You guys need to be more like Keonho. He came about thirty minutes earlier to help set it up too.”
His neck flushed red, “I just happened to be here that’s all.”
Hajoon laughs, “Just take the compliment, it’s going to be the last one you get once he starts practice.”
A junior chimes in before Keonho can, “He’s just being nice, did you know he’s running for freshman representative too?”
Coach Choi’s eyes drift over Keonho in surprise, “Really? You’re doing a lot this year.”
“Oh, uh yeah, I am running for that,” his hands drift up to his nape.
It’s not something he’s particularly talked about with anyone on the swim team. Though if he were to estimate, he’s pretty sure he’s been getting an extra amount of attention since the orientation they had on the weekend. He’d known a good amount of the faces there, and it’s not a stretch to say that word gets around easily at their school.
“Student council too?”
“You’re already good at swimming and now you’re going to be the representative too?”
The comments blare loud and fast, and he’s not sure what to say. He knows that there’s a vote for freshman representative, but he hadn’t particularly been advertising himself as a candidate.
He hadn’t thought much about it, though he hadn’t thought much about a lot of things when it came to this.
“I’ll vote for you!” Seojun mentions as he stretches his left arm out.
“Oh yeah, same.”
“I don’t know who else is running, so you got my vote too.”
He laughs, “You guys have to listen to my speech on Friday too, you know.”
A mixture of laughs and grunts explode as they continue to now stretch their legs. Keonho’s unsure about what it all means, until Seojun catches his confused stare,
“If you’re the one running, then who cares about the speech?”
He gives Keonho a good-natured smile before Coach Choi wraps up the commotion and lectures them on the importance of staying focused on the task at hand.
Keonho lunges his left leg before changing the position of his arms. He glances back at the rest of the team. He knows most of them pretty well, if not from middle school than even from mutual friends of Martin or Juhoon or the weeks of training they’ve spent together.
He’s reminded of the multiple faces that left that orientation with a smirk on their faces and empty papers in hand. He then thinks of the blank paper sitting in his folder with the few sentences he could think of.
It dawns on him quietly.
Maybe he doesn’t have to worry as much as he thought he would.
❀
“Are you done by the way?”
Martin tilts his head.
They’re sitting at the cafeteria for breakfast, and Martin’s of course already finished while Keonho and Juhoon sit across from him, still eating. There’s an increasing crescendo of noise as more and more students pull into the cafeteria, lining up for trays of eggs or toast, both of which Keonho has finished.
He can only look at him in question as the remains of his protein bar that he brought from home are shoved into his mouth. After a few more chews, Keonho lets out a muffled, “What?”
“Your speech? You know, the one that James is probably going to be grilling you about during rehearsals.”
“Oh,” he wipes his hands on his pants, which Juhoon can only nod his head at in distaste.
“I’m going to sort of wing it,” he runs a hand through his hair.
Martin squints his eyes at him in confusion, “Wing it?”
Juhoon raises a brow too, his breakfast tray, now untouched, “I’ve seen you prep yourself to answer a question in just a classroom. How are you planning to ‘wing it’?”
“Well, I mean,” he shrugs, “it can’t be that hard. I’ll say who I am, and then maybe why I’m running, and then that should be it.”
Martin’s voice drawls on, “So you don’t have anything written down? No note card or anything?”
“Nope,” he pops the end of the word, “you know what ‘winging it’ means right?”
The taller boy doesn’t pay attention to the teasing tilt of Keonho’s words, “Do you know?”
His voice feels larger than usual, and Keonho’s not sure what to make of it, “Yes?”
“So you know that winging it means, winging a two minute speech which at the least has a ten second grace period before and after? You also know that your speech has to carefully outline your reasoning for running too, something every other person is going to be preparing for?”
Right.
He’d forgotten momentarily who he had been talking to. Martin who seemed to have a god complex about student council, and was overly fair and just to anyone and everyone who wanted to even try it out.
A flash of irritation runs along his ears.
“I think I have a good shot with or without the two minute speech,” he ends up saying.
Martin’s voice only hardens, “You shouldn’t act so confident in something you know so little about.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Keonho’s hand grips the edge of his chair.
The other boy rolls his eyes, “It’s not-”
“Martin,” Juhoon interrupts, “I think we need to head back to classes earlier today. Mrs. Kim does pop quizzes on Wednesdays, remember?”
The boy had been silent for most of the conversation. Keonho was sure Juhoon was on his side, so why wasn’t he speaking?
The pair get up, grabbing their bags and gathering their trash.
“We’ll see you later,” he quietly adds before leaving promptly. Martin takes a second to glance over at Keonho.
It’s less harsh around the eyes, before he turns back to Juhoon’s further figure, and catches up to him. He can only watch as the doors to the cafeteria shut close, before he runs back to the window. Martin seems to brush Juhoon’s shoulder lightly, though the shorter boy doesn’t pay mind to it.
What was that about?
❀
French rolls around sooner than he had hoped, Madame Ha keeps speaking since irregular verbs don’t wait for anyone, but Keonho hasn’t taken a single glance at the white board as she continues to write with a worn out red marker.
Instead, he’s taken out the single sheet of paper crumbled in his bag and spread it across his desk. He keeps chewing his bottom lip in hopes of something coming to him. He doesn’t want to admit it, but Martin has a point. The idea of ‘winging it’ would probably come easily to someone like Martin or even Seonghyeon; the boy diligently jotting notes in his pretty handwriting.
His eyes drift over to Seonghyeon for a second. He keeps looking up and down to his paper, making sure he’s writing it all accurately; Keonho doesn’t doubt for one second that it isn’t perfect.
He seems to hum to himself that it’s correct too, as he finally sets his pencil aside.
The boy catches Keonho’s eyes almost soon after.
“What?” he whispers.
Keonho can only shake his head before going back to his paper, urgently writing whatever comes to mind. He tries to jot down just about every buzz word he can think of on to his paper, though he comes to a stop at seven words.
Seonghyeon catches on to this too. He keeps trying to configure his head to see what the boy is writing, but Keonho had acutely placed his lunchbox to the side of his desk, just in case, so he isn’t able to see anything.
“What is that?”
His head tilts, but Keonho just ignores the other boy.
Seonghyeon’s eyes narrow as the younger boy only writes faster. He’s sure that he isn’t working on the verbs. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen him this focused even during their tutoring sessions, and he can only imagine that he’s doing homework for another class.
“Keonho?”
His hand leans across the space between their desks to move the lunchbox, before Keonho’s elbow accidentally drops it as he attempts to cover his paper.
The sound is a rather anti-climatic thud, which Madame Ha only takes a second to glance at, sending a dismissive look at them both, before looking away and continuing on to the next verb.
He doesn’t have to look to see Seonghyeon wearing a guilty face. It would be funny, at any other time, except all Keonho can think about is how he’s going to answer Seonghyeon’s question from the other day if he can’t even make a speech that’s at least pleasant.
The other boy doesn’t have a clue though, so his eyes easily swerve over to his desk, in hopes to see anything.
Thankfully, the bell rings, and Keonho immediately crushes the paper inside his bag before sprinting out the classroom.
“Keonho!”
He knows Seonghyeon's voice. He’s too aware of the other boy to not know his tone, but instead he sprints to the library.
He has exactly an hour left in his free period before the rest of the freshman representatives are required to meet in the gymnasium with James to do a quick run-through rehearsal on the speeches, and he’s determined to come up with anything.
❀
The gymnasium is far too empty for Keonho’s liking. He’s been here before, cheering on at his sister’s volleyball tournaments when he was younger, but today was nothing like that. Instead he swallows before taking a step in the empty room, each one heavier than the one before.
There were two other representatives, a boy and a girl, and then Seonghyeon sitting on the foldable chairs beside the front of the podium, where James stood, busy typing away on his laptop.
It’s entirely silent, except his shoes squeak, and James raises his head to find Keonho.
He sends him a nod, before going back to his laptop.
There’s an empty seat near Seonghyeon, which he gladly takes.
“Hey,” he says immediately, “what were you doing in French?”
“Uh, just notes,” he tries to not look at Seonghyeon too much.
He doesn’t need to know what an amazing speech the other boy wrote yet. He thinks that he might die if he has to go after his Nobel peace prize-level speech.
“Nervous?”
Seonghyeon tries to ask him, eyeing the strange way Keonho keeps gripping the chair tightly.
“No,” he answers shortly.
“Huh, okay.”
He doesn’t believe him at all, but he seems to take the hint before concentrating on his flashcard.
Keonho recognizes the handwriting, and notes that it’s sparse with only four words on it at first glance. He’d assumed the boy would probably be good at this sort of thing, but staring at even the other two representative candidates, he realizes just how screwed he is. He should’ve called a different friend instead of his sister, how she got the idea that he can do this sort of thing is beyond him.
“Okay, we’re going to get started now. Minji?”
The girl with pin straight black hair nods.
“You’re up first,” he gestured to her to come stand near the platform.
She takes small steps to the podium, and the light click of her mary-janes are louder than they should be.
The microphone squeaks only momentarily as she adjusts it to her height, bringing it lower. Her hands are a bit shaky, and Keonho crosses his fingers that that’s a reflection of her speech.
She clears her throat, and her unsteady eyes come to focus,
“Hello, I am Minji Kang. Student council is what we see when we look around our school, whether we know it or not, and until last weekend, I didn’t know it at all.”
He stops listening after hearing the clear baritone of her voice, calm and focused, as if she’d recited the speech a hundred times over—as if she’d already become a representative.
He doesn’t continue to make sense of the words or phrases, but the practiced breaks and pauses tell him all he has to know. She’s already won in some sense, even if he doesn’t want to admit it: Martin had been right.
A small beep cuts through, and James gives her a fist.
She ends with one more sentence, and Seonghyeon and the other representative seated immediately clap.
James is clearly satisfied in spite of it only being shown in his eyes and a gentle smile that traces his face. Keonho also catches how easily Seonghyeon is able to raise his hands for someone else, not missing a second to give her applause.
The girl’s cheeks are slightly red as she nods shyly, and walks back to her seat beside him.
“That was really good,” he tells her.
It’s so earnest that Keonho feels a twist in his stomach.
“Oh thank you,” her voice is much smaller now, nothing like before, and his underestimation of the gravity of it all feels larger.
“Alright, next we have,” James raises a brow, “Keonho.”
His feet remained planted on the floor.
“Keonho?”
Seonghyeon’s eyes stay on him, “Are you okay?”
It seems to cut through, and he steadily gets up, “I’m fine.”
The chair shifts uncomfortably, and he hears a small ‘good luck’ from both Minji and Seonghyeon.
He can’t pay attention to it.
The top of his head feels tipsy, words from his sister, Martin and Juhoon’s sudden leave during breakfast, and Minji’s speech all conform into one growing storm as he eventually finds himself at the top of the podium.
He has the same sheet of paper that he’s been holding onto since yesterday, and he wonders why he thought to bring it with him.
Smoothing it out with the palm of his right hand, he feels the incoming eye roll from James. The sound is awful, and he takes one last glance at Seonghyeon.
He’s leaned further out of his chair, something he would take in stride if it weren’t for his lack of a speech. He brushed his bangs lightly to the side at some point between Keonho’s journey to the podium. He can almost see himself from Seonghyeon’s point of view.
His tie is crooked, and his hair isn’t as nicely put as Seonghyeon’s always seems to be. He has a stain of ketchup on his blazer that he forgot to wash off last night, and he’s about to give the worst speech known to mankind.
“Any day now,” James says, relatively detached.
He gulps the lump in his throat, “Yes, uh- I’ll get started.”
James nods skeptically; his eyes drift toward Seonghyeon too, but Keonho begins before he can catch that.
“Hi,” he tears a corner of the paper, “my name is Ahn Keonho, and I’m um-”
His eyes drift to the basketballs laying at the back of the gym.
“I’m a swimmer? Yeah, so I’m a swimmer and-” he closes his eyes for a second.
Think of anything else.
“I really like the work the student council does.”
He’s not staring at anyone, just the orange striped lumps in the back of the gymnasium. He tries to think of what Juhoon might say, “I think that it’s important, er, I know it’s important.”
His senses are in the spotlight at the podium. The taste of his saliva is at the back of his throat, and the paper underneath his fingertips is thinned with pressure and sweat. He can’t keep an eye on anything but the plain backboards and the emptied out scoreboard above him.
What would Martin say-
The door bangs shut.
The trance is undone, and his eyes drift up.
Minji is still seated.
The boy is still seated.
But now, there’s an empty chair.
“Seonghyeon,” he says aloud, the name illuminated by the microphone.
His eyes drift over to James, who seems to be equally perplexed. His eyes are stretched wide, kind of comically, at the door where Seonghyeon had just left. He waits a beat then speaks,
“Keonho, just continue-”
He raises his hand on instinct, “I’m done actually.”
James just stares, but the younger boy moves faster, sprinting off the podium and to the doors.
Another loud clang rings the gymnasium, and all James can do is encourage Do-yun to begin his speech next, explaining they’ll catch up with the other two later.
❀
He knows it’s stupid.
The idea of Seonghyeon walking out and Keonho feeling the urge to follow him is bizarre and terribly romantic in a way that doesn’t confine the relationship between the two. Sometimes Keonho thinks the two are friends, but then something like this happens, and he isn’t sure what to make of it.
The need to prove himself is foreign.
He knows he’s good at things. He cringes when he thinks of his speech again, but it’s true that he is a good swimmer, and his grades aren’t bad either, albeit maybe in French they’re not as amazing as they could be, but he knows he’s better than a good chunk of people. He doesn’t have to be doing this speech today, and he doesn’t have to be trying so hard in a language that’s not his, and yet he’s running to each of the classrooms like a madman hoping to find Seonghyeon.
He reaches another end of a hall, ready to make another turn but the slight opening of the door to their shared French class pauses him. His feet move before he can think of what to say.
Pushing the door open, he finds Seonghyeon standing near the window.
His back is to Keonho, but the familiar chest-nut hair is too recognizable.
“Seonghyeon,” he pants out, the adrenaline finally catching up to him.
He doesn’t turn with the urge Keonho has for him to. It’s slow and calculated, and his eyes are edged with clear anger.
“What?”
“Um- you walked out,” he tries to smooth his hands out on his sides.
He doesn’t know what he wants to say. He blames his mind for being too slow and his actions for being too fast.
“Take a wild guess why,” Seonghyeon crosses his arms.
“Are you upset?”
The other boy only laughs, it’s clawlike and Keonho hates that it’s at him.
“No, I’m glad that someone like you wants to run as freshman representative too,” his voice is laced with sarcasm.
“I’m running because,” Keonho pauses, only to repeat himself, “I’m running because-”
“Because what?” he spits out.
Because I want to be near you, because I want to know why I work harder around you, why I want to impress you. Because you’re the only thing worth paying attention to, and if I had even a fraction of your attention, then maybe I can understand myself better.
He thinks it all, but the words remain on the tip of his tongue, unsaid, like so many other things.
Seonghyeon only shakes his head in silence, “I don’t get you Keonho. Is it fun to run for things like this and not care to do any of the work?”
Keonho feels horrified.
“No! No, of course not!”
“Then why are you trying for this? Did you even write anything on your paper?”
Seonghyeon’s raged eyes drift down to Keonho’s right hand, the ball of paper tucked into his palm.
His hand stretches just like it did in French, but Keonho’s faster, and he catches Seonghyeon’s wrist with his other hand.
“Stop,” he says, his voice cracking at the end.
“Show me,” Seonghyeon doesn’t move his hand away, letting him continue to grip the cold wrist, “what’s on the paper?”
Keonho thinks of how easily he could run out of the classroom, or how James is probably waiting right around the corner, but he instead lets his grip on Seonghyeon go.
There’s a red mark staining his skin, but he snatches the paper out of his palm anyways, opening it with his thin fingers as Keonho swallows his nerves.
The back of the paper stares back at him as Keonho looks away.
“Representative, goals, volunteering,” he watches Seonghyeon mumble the messy scrawl of words to himself.
“What is this?” he finally asks clearly.
“It’s my notecard,” he answers lamely.
“It’s fifty random words.”
“It’s not that random, or I mean I was trying to do it during free period-”
“Free period?”
His voice is jagged.
“You didn’t work on it at all? Seriously?”
“I thought about it, if that- does that count?”
Seonghyeon gives him a blank stare.
“Sorry,” he squeaks out.
The boy is shorter than him by a few centimeters, but Keonho feels like he’s being interrogated.
“Sorry?” his eyebrows flare up.
“Most people dropped,” his voice is quiet.
“So what? Most people drop, and you just get to become representative? Like it's your birth right?”
“No! I mean I did try to come up with something,” he says in weak defense.
“That’s not trying Keonho. Trying is moving to a new school in an unfamiliar city and running for representative, trying is signing yourself up for everything and anything so that you even have a chance at winning, this isn’t trying,” he ends.
His chest heaves unevenly, and his finger stays pointed at Keonho.
Oh.
He drops his hand to his side before leaving the classroom.
Seonghyeon’s shoulder lightly pushes against Keonho’s, and the knot in his stomach arrives again in full force.
❀
“Keonho? Your dinner’s downstairs,” his mom’s voice calls out to him softly.
He’d come home without the usual skip that he held. He hadn’t even held his dog before heading straight to the desk in his room. The door had been locked for the past four hours, while Keonho had been writing and rewriting on a fresh sheet of paper.
There are still no ideas coming to his mind, nothing that’s good enough at least. He keeps retracing the lines of Seonghyeon’s frowned eyes, the downturn of his lips when Keonho had stood at the front of the classroom.
The way Seonghyeon seemed to have changed his mind on him within just two minutes of his pathetic attempt at a speech.
The crumbled paper from before is still with Seonghyeon. Keonho hadn’t tried to ask for it back even if it were to clear his embarrassment. He’d probably thrown it away, Keonho thinks.
He’s reminded of the swim team, Jimin from French, Minwoo, even his coach, and he wonders what makes him different, what makes him be good with people, something Martin had only reluctantly complimented him on.
His mind then shifts to Seonghyeon, the boy who seemed to catch his eye ever since he’d transferred at the start of his high school journey. The way he helps everyone he can, and the way his voice wavered as he told him what trying really looked like. The way Keonho wanted to give him a hug even though he was sure Seonghyeon’s gaze at him wouldn’t be the same after today.
He goes about his speech again, though this time his pencil writes down names. He draws bubbles around each one and connects them with arrows. Juhoon and Martin’s names are somewhere on the left corner of his paper, and he’s reminded of club fairs and service trips.
His mind begins to churn.
❀
Friday arrives at the right pace, not as fast as yesterday’s rehearsal and not as slow as the two minutes he felt forced to fill with James’ glare on him.
Jimin is bothering him today, telling him about how she’s going to be bored out of her mind during the speeches they have to listen to during free period for elections.
“I’ll vote for you though, of course,” she adds with a faint blush on her cheeks before complaining about the vocab quiz they had last week.
“Sure,” he tells her offhandedly.
He’s been trying to meet eyes with Seonghyeon since yesterday and he’s been continuously failing. He’s also attempted to send him messages about French in lieu of a real conversation, but they’ve remained entirely unread. He has to apologize or explain himself, or probably both, but the other boy has been flat out ignoring him, which’s impressive considering their French class requires a good deal of paired in-class activities. Keonho has a feeling that Jimin is enjoying the fact that Seonghyeon keeps rejecting him, though he can’t say the same. He’s been watching the older boy partner with Jisung for the fourth time already, and he thinks that if he becomes a representative, he’d force Jisung into another class.
Plus, he doesn’t miss the way that his eyes preen at Seonghyeon’s praise.
Lunch hasn’t been as fun either, Martin has been surprisingly normal since Wednesday, but Juhoon’s been much more quiet. Keonho thoughtfully chose to not talk about the incoming speech that he’ll be giving because of him, but it’s still weird. He’s also noticed that James and Seonghyeon seem to always be around each other during lunch, which’s fine, but it makes the obvious rejections in French sting to a new degree.
The bell rings, marking the end of class.
“Just another reminder, that we have elections today, so head to the gymnasium right after,” Madame Ha notes.
“I’ll be listening to your speech well,” Jimin notes before heading off with her friend.
Keonho watches them giggle then turns to Seonghyeon.
He’s already looking at him, his eyes are empty, and then he looks away.
He swallows before making his way down to the gymnasium.
❀
It’s nothing like Wednesday. There’s a loud chatter that only booms in the gymnasium filled with creaky chairs. They’re all organized by homeroom classrooms, each aligned in clean rows that are slowly moving around. James is still at the front of the podium, waiting for a cue from one of the teachers near him, and the rest of the student council is on the right side of the podium, including Martin and Juhoon.
Martin had sent him a small text when Keonho was making his way to his seat.
Martin: "You got this!!!!!!"
It loosened the small knot in his throat, except for the fact that Juhoon hadn’t mentioned anything to him or the fact that he had to text it to him privately rather than their group chat.
Martin’s too supportive, but he still needed to make things right with both of them.
A teacher hands James a final paper to place on the podium, and James begins to speak, “Hello, I’m James, the student council president. Today, we’re having our long awaited freshman representative elections. We have four candidates who will be giving their speeches, pay attention to each speech, and we’ll begin voting soon after.”
He gives a small nod to Seonghyeon.
James had texted them that the order had been random, but Keonho could only think of how Seonghyeon hadn’t even gotten the chance to give his speech because of his stupid freak out on Wednesday.
The fact that he was now going first felt like another weight to add on to his guilt.
If he was nervous though, Seonghyeon wasn’t showing it.
His steps were easy and his eyes only hardened as he adjusted the mic. He looks especially the part today, uniform extra crisp and bangs perfectly aligned. Keonho’s reminded at times like these, that Seonghyeon always seems to shine brightest in his element. He thinks back to one of their much earlier tutoring sessions when he learned that the boy had been part of his old school’s speech and debate team.
Seonghyeon clears his voice and begins, “Hello, I’m Eom Seonghyeon. I moved here right before the beginning of the semester, so it’s been a strange past couple of weeks,” he pauses, “I’ve felt a lot of things since coming here, lonely, sad, and a little detached.”
He gives a small smile, as he continues, “There are a lot of things unfamiliar to me at this school, like what the spring dance is or what spirit days look like on Thursdays, but I do know what the art club is like, and what the tutoring club does, and what the students on council do as well.”
Keonho catches James smiling fondly at Seonghyeon.
“I also know what it’s like to not feel fond towards anything or to feel quiet even when everything surrounding you is loud. Really, I know that feeling a little too well.”
His voice is smooth, and Keonho’s almost surprised with how many students are actually paying attention, but then again, it is Seonghyeon.
Who wouldn’t pay attention to him?
“So while I may not be particularly known to all of you, please take this from my speech. As a freshman representative I promise to learn not just about the school’s clubs and traditions, but also all of you. If there’s a club you want to create, I will be right with you. If you need help with school, I’ll find a way for you to improve. If you need a friend, consider me one regardless.”
He takes a vast look at the students filling each of the chairs; there are hundreds of eyes on him, but he only smiles larger as he meets the eyes of them all, “Help me learn more about you all, and in return, I’ll keep finding new ways to give to this school.”
He waits a beat before lowering his head to nod, “Thank you for listening.”
The applause is immediately thunderous, and Keonho joins in right away. He catches some members of student council chanting Seonghyeon’s name, which the boy blushes at. His cheeks are lightly pink in embarrassment as students keep standing and cheering him on; the applause clearly going on for longer than the teachers had expected.
One of them signals James to cut it, but he looks the other way as if he can’t see it.
James is clearly proud of Seonghyeon, and if the gleam in his eyes isn’t enough proof, then the enthusiastic clapping clearly was.
He removes himself from the podium, and walks back to his seat.
James moves back to the podium, “The next candidate is Minji.”
She’s the girl who’s seated between Seonghyeon and Keonho. He knows it’s not a coincidence.
The girl gets up, and he hears a mumbled ‘good luck’ from Seonghyeon. He hears the same click of her shoes, and Keonho takes a glance at the now empty seat between him and Seonghyeon.
He has about three seconds before she begins.
And with a short squeak, he shifts to the chair beside Seonghyeon.
The other boy’s shoulders jump, “Why are you sitting here?”
He’s clearly startled, which could’ve been funny in another context.
“To talk to you, obviously.”
Seonghyeon rolls his eyes as Minji begins her speech. He hears the familiar cadence spread across the auditorium.
“I’m not talking to you. It’s rude,” he whispers to him, leaning in slightly to Keonho’s shoulders before moving right back.
“Fine, don’t talk,” he whispers back, “but I will.”
Seonghyeon’s eyes remain on Minji with unparalleled focus, as if focusing on her could tune Keonho out.
“I want to say sorry to you,” he says.
It’s silent aside from Minji’s voice, but Keonho notices the small twitch in Seonghyeon’s lip.
He’s listening. He has to be.
“I’m not just joining the student council because I want to or because it’s my birth right,” he says.
Seonghyeon wrangles one his hands as he remembers the fight from that rehearsal day.
“I’m joining because I want something to change in me. It’s still selfish, and it’s not as good of a reason as yours. You’re a lot smarter than I am and I know you work harder than me too. I mean your speech was-”
“Stop, don’t talk about yourself like that. If you want to shit on yourself, don’t do it around me,” the older boy says quietly.
His eyes are still on Minji; she’s at the one minute mark of her speech now.
He feels a warm tingling in his stomach, “Okay, I won’t, but you still have to listen to what I have to say.”
Seonghyeon doesn’t nod, but Keonho has a feeling he’s listening more attentively than he would ever admit.
“I like being around you. It makes me want to try harder, and ever since my sister’s left, you’ve made things smoother.”
“I’ve known you for four weeks, Keonho,” he says dryly.
His face burns red, “I mean! I mean that you’ve made a lot more sense than anything else has, and I want to keep chasing that, maybe that’s why I want to join student council.”
“With you,” he adds softly.
Now it’s him looking at Minji, and Seonghyeon looking at him.
Everyone is clapping loudly for her as she gives a bow and adjusts the mic again to give her thanks, but Seonghyeon’s eyes are glazed on to Keonho.
The applause dies and James moves on to the boy next, “Hyun-woo,” he announces.
Minji raises a small brow at Keonho still seated at her chair, but he sends her a pleading look and a small ‘you did so good’, and she promptly takes his old chair instead.
The boy begins his speech, and Keonho’s beginning to think that Seonghyeon’s plan is to never speak to him again.
“I want to say sorry too,” he whispers, now actually looking at Keonho.
“What? Why-”
He hesitates, “I was jealous of you, how easily this all seemed to come to you, and I shouldn’t have said any of that birth right stuff or that not working nonsense either.”
He feels awkward, “I mean you’re not wrong.”
“I was,” he says like it’s a fact, “I know you work hard. I know you do a lot for French and swim, or even for your friends. I’ve seen you help Martin and Juhoon out occasionally too, so I wanted to say sorry too.”
Hyunwoo ends his speech with a joke that Keonho doesn’t hear and James makes another nod after the laughter comes to an end.
“You can do this,” Seonghyeon gives him a shy smile, and Keonho nods back at him, taking in a deep breath as he moves to the podium.
“Ahn Keonho, let’s go!”
It’s definitely someone on the swim team; the voice is too recognizable.
He looks over to Seonghyeon once more; he only has one try at this.
“My name is Ahn Keonho,” he hears a few faint cheers, “I’m running for freshman representative because I want to try something new.”
“I know a lot of you may know me as a swimmer, and that’s been my identity for years now. I can’t imagine a life without it, but I also can’t imagine a world where I’m not at this school. My sister used to go here, and crazily enough, both my parents met at this school too.”
“I’ve always thought student council was a lot of work, and it is. I’ve learned that more this month than ever before, but I also learned what it’s like to work hard to achieve a tangible goal, and to want more just because the thrill of earning it is so exciting,” he pauses.
“I’m not going to lie to you all and say that I’ll be the smartest representative, because I don’t think that’s what makes me a good fit, but I have a lot of care for the students here. I know most of you well, and I want to earn another level of trust by working hard to be your freshman representative.”
He looks at Seonghyeon rather than the audience when he bows his head.
The chant of his name booms again, but in full force this time. Seonghyeon’s clapping too, and his eyes are wider than usual. They remind him of his swim team try-outs, and he holds back a smile as he makes his way back to his chair.
“We’re going to begin voting now, there’s a form that’s being sent out right now, and your homeroom teachers will be tallying each of your results for the next ten minutes.”
“That was so good Keonho!”
Seonghyeon pulls him into a tight hug, and Keonho’s arms naturally fall onto the boy’s waist.
He pulls him closer to his chest, it lingers on for a few seconds before Seonghyeon clears his throat, “I’m not going anywhere, you know?”
“Ah sorry,” Keonho lets go.
“I’m glad you did well,” Seonghyeon says while looking away.
Keonho snorts, “Really? I thought you would’ve hoped I did terrible.”
The other boy shakes his head strongly, “No way. I mean I obviously was mad, but I also felt at fault for exploding on you. I could’ve helped you out or-”
“It’s not your fault Seonghyeon, if anything, I think it helped me write a good speech, so I should be thanking you.”
His shy smile returns, “That was all you, not me.”
Keonho wants to hug him all over again.
“The votes are finalized,” James is back at the podium again, holding a small card in his hand,
“The two freshman representatives are Eom Seonghyeon,” he pauses, “and Ahn Keonho.”
“Congratulations to you both,” he raises his hands to clap, and throws a real smile at both of them.
He won.
He actually won.
“Keonho!”
Martin rushes towards him, with Juhoon closely following behind him, “You did so well, what the fuck was that speech, that was crazy good.”
He feels embarrassed again, “I mean, it was okay-”
Juhoon stops him, “It wasn’t just okay. You did a really good job. You should be so proud.”
He ruffles the top of Keonho’s hair, which had been styled up properly for today, “You’re already fitting the role.”
The knot from earlier comes fully undone when he catches Juhoono’s rare wide smile.
“Seonghyeon too, you did amazing,” Juhoon pats the boy’s shoulder.
“Oh yeah, thank god Seonghyeon is with our Keonho,” Martin wraps an arm around the boy’s shoulders.
The height difference makes Juhoon laugh.
“Well, I’m surprised to be saying this, but we’ll start meetings next week. It’s during free period, and I’ll text you the rest of the details.”
James' voice is loud and clear even through the explosion of chatter that’s buzzing around.
He moves to Seonghyeon first, moving Martin’s arms off and placing his arms over him instead, “You did a good job. I knew you would be. And Keonho,” he eyes him down before giving him a faint smile, “you surprised me. I hope you keep surprising me.”
It’s a truce, Keonho thinks, though he still doesn’t like how close he is to Seonghyeon.
“I will,” he nods his head.
He knows he will.
He bumps his shoulder into Seonghyeon’s. He’s pink now, rosy cheeks and all, the compliments clearly getting to him.
“I’ll be seeing you a lot more now Seonghyeonnie,” he whispers faintly, just for him to hear and ignores the strange look James gives him.
“You definitely will Keonho,” he whispers right back at him with a grin.
His hair is brushed out of his eyes, and his dark hazel eyes are almost magnetic. He doesn’t know if he can look away. He doesn’t know if he wants to.