Chapter Text
For Donghyuck, his first day of school starts as a sunny February morning, with Mr. Kim throwing his favourite mug at Mr. Moon’s head.
‘Funny Girl?’ he hears Mr. Kim shriek, sounding not unlike a strangled goat, voice echoing through the Lower B-Block hallway. ‘I put forward Oliver. Billy Elliot. West Side Story. I had Chicago as an option, Taeil. Chicago. Out of all the musicals that could have been approved, how the sweet fuck do we get Funny Girl?’
Donghyuck pauses, fist raised halfway to a polite knock. Funny Girl, he thinks. As this year’s musical. Well, the music’s nice, at least. He knows Jeno would love the Overture.
Mr. Moon cowers behind the CAPA faculty’s staff room dining table. ‘Dongyoung, you might want to pick up your cup? I mean, it is your favourite –’
Mr. Kim paces in front of the doorway, running a thin hand through his lavender hair, the movement accentuating the dark roots that have grown out of his scalp. ‘How the fuck is Funny Girl this year’s musical? We didn’t even put it down.’ As soon as the words leave his mouth, he stills. ‘Did we?’
Donghyuck watches in horror as Mr. Moon swallows, releasing an audible gulp that sails on gusts of air from the staffroom air-conditioner, straight into Mr. Kim’s fine-tuned ears. ‘Well, ah, about that.’
Mr. Kim stops. Donghyuck can’t see his face, but judging from Mr. Moon’s expression, Mr. Kim musn’t look very happy at all. The younger Music teacher sighs, walks over to his desk, and then, suddenly, screams, sweeping the neatly arranged stack of sheet music on his desk onto the floor with a flail of his arms. ‘Son of a bitch!’ The papers go flying, and Mr. Moon and Donghyuck watch on mournfully as photocopies of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony and the Coconut Song float through the air. Mr. Kim’s hands are fisted in his dye-job, and Donghyuck’s a little bit worried, because he knows how brittle hair can get after bleaching. ‘You’re fucking adopted and no one loves you, Taeil Moon.’
Donghyuck wonders if he should make his presence known; as much as he loves Mr. Moon, and as much as the tears that threaten to form in his favourite Music teacher’s eyes are tugging at his heartstrings, he has to admit that there’s an element of absurdist drama to the situation. Dadaist, Renjun would probably say, probably whilst rolling his eyes as he carves out what would probably be his twenty-fourth lino print design. Donghyuck’s never going to admit it to his face, but Renjun’s one of the hardest workers he’s ever met in his life.
Talking about hard work, Donghyuck’s a bit tired of carrying the neatly printed composition in his hand around. He raps his knuckles against the doorframe, just as Mr. Moon’s eyes fall on him, clearly pleading for help from his hiding place behind a table leg. ‘Hi, Mr. Kim,’ he starts, schooling his face into the most neutral expression he can possibly force it into. ‘I just wanted to ask Mr. Moon something before school started…?’
Mr. Kim quickly straightens his posture, hands slapping at his suspiciously crinkled (in all the years Donghyuck’s known him, he’s certain that the teacher’s always come to school in shirts ironed straighter than Jaemin before meeting Renjun in junior year) dress shirt in an effort to smooth out the wrinkles. ‘Donghyuck! What a surprise to see you there. How long were you…?’
‘A few minutes?’ Donghyuck answers, blinking his eyes as innocently as possible as he indulges in the way Mr. Kim’s face slowly turns as red as his brother’s hideous Toyota Camry.
‘Ah. So you, um. Yes. I’ll just,’ Mr. Kim turns away, burying his face in his hands. ‘I’ll just. Clean up. Yeah. I’ll do that.’ He mutters something unintelligible to himself, crouching down to pick up the photocopied sheet music that he’d swept to the floor.
Mr. Moon takes the opportunity to scramble out from under the coffee table, dusting off his knees as he rises to Donghyuck’s height. Adjusting his tie for the day (a cute floral thing tied with an Eldredge knot), he coughs into a closed fist, blushing as he makes eye contact with Donghyuck’s left ear. ‘Let’s step outside the staffroom for a bit, shall we?’
‘No problem, sir,’ Donghyuck replies. He can feel his left eye twitching, biting down on his lower lip to quell the giggles that threaten to rise from his chest.
It takes all of Donghyuck’s willpower to wave a polite farewell to Mr. Kim’s stooped, blushing form and walk out into the hallway without laughing. He can’t help himself however, when Mr. Moon turns to him, the most sincerely heartfelt gaze in his eyes, and says ‘Donghyuck Lee, I think you just saved my life.’ The genuine gratitude in his eyes is too much for Donghyuck, who finds himself bending in half as he lets out the most ungracious, high-pitched snort he’s ever heard in his life. It doesn’t take too much before Mr. Moon’s breaking out into laughter too, covering his mouth with his hands in an effort to stifle the noise.
‘Alright, alright,’ Mr. Moon says, waving away the hysteria, gaze darting behind him in worry of drawing the attention of Mr. Kim. ‘Show me what you did over the holidays, Hyuck.’ Donghyuck passes over the now-slightly wrinkled sheets of paper in his hands, his teacher scanning the composition, humming as he reads the notes. He watches nervously as Mr. Moon’s eyes run over the paper, flipping through the sheets, and he lets out a sigh of relief when the man’s lips finally, finally curl up into a smile.
‘Did I do alright?’ Donghyuck’s hands are a little clammy, and he wrings them behind his back. He’s not going to admit he slaved over the thing for the entirety of the holidays, scrapping draft after draft after draft because it just didn’t sound right enough. He’s also not going to admit that he rejected going out with his friends a few times to work on the thing. He’s definitely not going to admit why he kept turning down outings, despite Chenle’s whiny, incessant pleading the whole summer holidays – that’s a secret for another time.
‘More than alright,’ Mr. Moon replies, beaming at the composition in front of him.
Donghyuck slumps against the wall beside him. He thinks he can hear angels. ‘It’s a bit experimental –’
‘You’re always experimental, Donghyuck. But I think it really pays off. Your melody’s good, really good. Interesting use of harmonics, but it works really well with the syncopation. Just –’ Mr. Moon’s pointing at the composition now, running his finger along the music from the seventh bar to the tenth, ‘– work on figuring out your dynamics. It’s almost essential to have them in music, but you know that already.’
Donghyuck curses under his breath. ‘I think I forgot to put them in this draft.’
‘How many did you write?’ Mr. Moon asks, flipping through the composition again.
‘A few.’
‘Give me a number.’ The sound of paper sliding against paper fills the air between them.
Donghyuck shifts on his feet, sighing. ‘Thirteen.’
Mr. Moon’s hands freeze in place. He laughs, a gentle sound of wonder that makes Donghyuck’s heart coo, shaking his head. ‘I’m honestly impressed. Not many kids would put that much effort into schoolwork during the holidays.’
‘It’s not just schoolwork,’ Donghyuck replies, bowing his head a little when Mr. Moon passes the composition back. ‘I really do enjoy music, honestly.’
‘I know. You make it quite obvious, Mr. Lee,’ says Mr. Moon, teasing a little, and it makes Donghyuck blush. Though, it really is obvious as to how much Donghyuck adores studying music, how much he adores music in general. He’s loved music before he could even breathe – Taeyong tells him sometimes about how he remembers when their mother was pregnant with baby Donghyuck. He’d start moving in her stomach whenever she played music, no matter the song. She had to use my Walkman headphones, Taeyong had sighed, shovelling food onto Donghyuck’s plate. But you’d still shuffle around anyways. Brat. And then he’d laughed, ruffling Donghyuck’s hair as he nagged him about some stain on his shirt or a pen mark on his cheek.
His older brother has a point, though. Donghyuck can’t imagine his life without music. Music, to him, comes easier than breathing.
Though, there’s one thing that comes easier than music.
‘But Donghyuck,’ Mr. Moon starts again, mouth folding itself into a timid kind of frown, ‘I was wondering. You’ve never really put lyrics with your composition before. And the one’s you’ve put here are really lyrical, they flow wonderfully with the melody, but… I have to admit, I’m a little worried –’
‘Donghyuck!
Donghyuck turns in the direction of his name, shouted down the hallway, almost pulling a neck muscle in the process. His heart can’t help but stutter in his chest. He’d know that voice anywhere.
It’s Mark Lee, standing outside the door of one of the classrooms a few rooms down, arm leant against the doorframe, waving. His uniform’s immaculate, shoes shining and badges gleaming in the morning sunlight, not even sweaty when wearing a blazer in the summer, tie knotted perfectly in a way that makes Donghyuck grip his own self-consciously. His hair is swept perfectly to the side, eyes sparkling, his smile a bow that shoots arrows straight into Donghyuck’s heart.
He’s written so many songs about that smile.
‘I’ll let you go now,’ Mr. Moon whispers, something knowing in his expression as Donghyuck makes eye contact with him. ‘Feel free to send me anything else you’re working on. And if you just want to talk about anything, too.’ He pats Donghyuck on the shoulder. ‘You’ve worked hard.’
‘Thanks, Mr. Moon,’ Donghyuck says back, unable to stop the way his chest aches at the gesture. Mr. Moon begins to walk back to the CAPA staffroom (from where, if Donghyuck’s hearing isn’t mistaken, he can hear quiet sobbing). Donghyuck turns away from Mark to wave at Mr. Moon’s retreating form, taking a deep breath before jogging down the hallway, to where Mark’s standing.
‘Hey man,’ Donghyuck says, schooling his face into his best, cocky grin. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Morning class just ended,’ Mark says cheerfully, still leaning against the doorframe. ‘Dude, I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where’ve you been all holidays?’
‘Around,’ replies Donghyuck, because it sounds cooler than saying holed up in my room whilst my brother begs me to come out and look at some grass for at least a minute.
Mark laughs at that, shaking his head as he pushes himself off the doorframe. ‘Great to see that you haven’t changed, Hyuckie,’ he says as he rolls his eyes, and the movement is so carefree, the nickname so sickeningly sweet to hear that Donghyuck has to look away to calm himself down. ‘Though,’ Mark continues, voice softening, ‘I did really miss seeing you.’
And oh, oh, does Donghyuck’s heart sing at those words. God, how he wishes it didn’t.
‘Good one, Canada,’ Donghyuck snorts, hoping he can hide the blush on his cheeks and the tremble in his voice. ‘Did you practice that one in the mirror?’
‘Is it really too much to say that I missed you?’ Mark asks, stepping towards Donghyuck, close enough to touch now and it hurts. ‘You’re one of my best friends, and I barely saw you, man.’
‘Thought you were going to be busy studying.’
‘Wasn’t busy when I asked you and the guys out those few times.’
Donghyuck swallows. ‘I was busy then.’
‘With what?’ There’s something tense in Mark’s voice, and Donghyuck prays to every deity he can think of that they’re not going to start arguing on the first day back to school.
Donghyuck bites his lip, exhaling out his nose. ‘Look, Mark, I was –’
There’s a massive crash, the sound of something heavy falling down from within the classroom Mark and Donghyuck are standing outside, followed by a low, pained groan and panicked chatter. Mark pokes his head back in, sighing as he sees what’s going on. ‘Lucas, really? On the first day back? Already?’ The person inside (Lucas, Donghyuck thinks) lets out another groan, and Mark buries his face in his hands.
Out of curiosity, Donghyuck walks behind and around Mark, stepping into the classroom. He’s met with the sight of one of the tallest guys he’s ever seen at his school lying on the ground, shirt wrinkled and missing a shoe which only serves to accentuate the holes in his left sock, bared for the world to see. Donghyuck sees something move out of the corner of his eye, eyes widening when he sees a black school shoe hanging by its laces from the moving ceiling fan, making slow circles in the air as the fan spins round and round. Looking back down, he can see another boy shaking who he presumes to be Lucas by the shoulders, wailing incoherently.
‘Um,’ starts Donghyuck, walking towards the K.O.’d boy and his panicking friend and kneeling beside them, partly because he’s legitimately concerned but mostly because he wants to avoid confrontation with Mark, ‘Is he okay?’
‘He should be, but he’s just stupid,’ Lucas’ friend sighs, continuing to shake the taller boy, lying down, eyes closed. ‘I told him trying to do a triple lutz whilst standing on a table is an activity for the jobless, but he told me,’ and at this the boy deepens his voice, ‘Jungwoo, my homie, if you think about it, doing jumps on ice are basically like jumping in rollerblades, but with freaky knife shoes instead of rollerblades. And on ice. So technically it’s easier if you do it on land. So, like, watch this, bro.’ Jungwoo makes a noise of frustration, flinging himself onto the ground next to Lucas. ‘He doesn’t even know how to rollerblade? Or ice skate?’ Donghyuck’s dumb head supplies the lovely fact Mark Lee can ice skate, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. ‘I hate Year Twelve. Kill me. My best friend got replaced with a crackhead.’
‘He was always a crackhead,’ Mark supplies helpfully from the doorway. ‘I’ll go get the GA to try get his shoe down. If I’m late, tell the teacher where I went?’ Jungwoo grunts affirmatively. ‘Should I get the nurse or something?’ A noise of disagreement. ‘Alright. Mark starts walking out the door, but just before he goes he turns back again. ‘Hey, Hyuck?’
Donghyuck looks up from Lucas’ now-twitching form. ‘Yeah?’
‘I’ll see you at recess, at least?’ Mark looks so sweet and hopeful. It’s too early in the morning for this, Donghyuck thinks.
‘Maybe.’
‘That’s good enough for me.’ Mark smiles at him again, waving as he walks out of sight, and Donghyuck can feel his heart bleed from the new cracks made in it.
Donghyuck wonders what the hell he’s doing still sitting in the classroom. He takes out his phone to check the time – a minute or two until class starts. He supposes he should get his bag from where it’s still lying outside the CAPA staff room, and then make his way upstairs to Advanced English –
A hand curls around his wrist. Donghyuck’s a little too tired to freak out about the sudden contact, so he decides to just look down and see what the fuck is up. It’s Lucas’ hand, and the first thing Donghyuck can think is that it’s huge. It’s eclipsing his own hand, and the slight roughness of the other boy’s hand is disconcertingly, worryingly nice. Donghyuck doesn’t even know this guy’s last name, but he’s already gotten to the hand-holding stage. Why is his life like this. ‘Uh,’ Donghyuck starts, ‘What are you…?’
‘Is this heaven?’ whispers Lucas, peering into Donghyuck’s eyes, leaning in with a dazed expression on his face. Donghyuck’s a little shocked how big his eyes are, limpid and disconcertingly honest.
‘What?’ Lucas hasn’t let go of his wrist yet, tugging on it a little as he sits up, eyes widening as he takes in Donghyuck’s face. His mouth falls open, other hand coming up dangerously close to Donghyuck’s cheek.
‘It has to be. You look like an angel.’
Donghyuck’s never been called an angel before.
The bell rings suddenly, a shrill sound that shocks Donghyuck upright. God, he hates the school bell so much. It’s so stressful, and it always reminds him how long it takes for him to pack up, making him the last one into every class he has and it’s so annoying when he’s late…
Oh.
Donghyuck jerks his hand out of Lucas’ grip, stumbling up, and sprints out the door, as fast as his legs can carry him. He’s too busy speeding away in a panic, half from the bell, half from the warmth that still lingers across his knuckles, to notice how he’s left his composition on the floor, where he was sitting next to Lucas.
…
Renjun puts his sandwich down. ‘So you’re saying,’ he muses, ‘that some Year Twelve called Lucas jumped off a table trying to do a fancy ice skating jump in one of the Lower B-Block rooms, lost his shoe to a ceiling fan, and called you an angel?’
‘Yeah, that’s about right.’ Donghyuck leans against the wall of the classroom they’re sitting in. ‘It was really fucking weird.’
‘Probably,’ Renjun says, airily, ‘but more importantly, do you think it was gay?’
Donghyuck splutters. ‘That was not gay.’
‘He told you that you were an angel.’
‘I’m pretty sure angels don’t really have genders or sexualities.’
‘Say that to Jisung’s raunchy SHINee asianfanfic.net multichapter angst with a happy ending fic,’ Renjun sighs. ‘But seriously. You haven’t liked anyone since Mark back in our junior years.’ Donghyuck still does, but Renjun doesn’t have to know that. If Renjun knows, that means Jaemin knows, which definitely means that Mark knows. And last time that Mark knew, it didn’t end well for anyone. ‘Like, I love him, and he’s the sweetest guy, and our group wouldn’t be complete without him, but sometimes he’s such a hetero.’
‘Why would you say something so controversial yet so brave?’
‘Someone has to. Hyuck, we both know he’s a great friend and all, but come on.’ Renjun picks his sandwich back up, taking a bite into it. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s straighter than –’
‘Straighter than Jaemin before he met you in junior year, I know.’
Renjun nods, sagely. ‘The truth, the truth and nothing but the truth.’
‘Okay, okay. Hetero Mark in junior year era aside, get this.’ Donghyuck says, frowning at the peeling paint on the wall. ‘I’m not interested in this Lucas guy. I probably won’t even see him again.’
‘Donghyuck. We go to the same school as him.’
‘So? I can always close my eyes.’
‘Hyuck.’
Donghyuck taps his chin, in fake-thought. ‘It’s, what did you say, the truth, the truth and nothing but the truth, Renjun.’
‘Smartass.’ Renjun flips him off, taking another bite of his sandwich. ‘I’m just saying, getting told something like that by a dude is low-key high-key gay culture.’
‘It’s not gay if he hit his head beforehand,’ Donghyuck sniffs. ‘And seriously. He was way too touchy for someone I’ve never met before. Not my type.’ It’s totally Donghyuck’s type. He loves gentle touches and cuddles and hand holding and kisses (or at least the idea of them – he’s never kissed anyone before. He wants to, lies in bed imagining what it’d be like, dreams about it sometimes but wakes up before the boys in his dreams press their lips against his). But the older he gets, the harder it gets to open up. The harder it gets to trust warm, rough hands and wide eyes.
That, and his heart already belongs to someone else. Has for a long time, now.
‘We get it,’ Renjun says, rolling his eyes, ‘you have trust issues. Not Mr. Ceiling Fan Fiasco’s fault that your first love was straight, though.’
Donghyuck winces. ‘Shut the fuck up, dude, it still hurts.’
‘I know it hurts. But, honestly, I’m telling you as your friend. It’s definitely time to move on from the past.’ Renjun stretches his legs, neatly finishing off his sandwich. ‘It’s been years, and I love you both, but if I was going to be honest with you? The way you and Mark fight sometimes, I think that even if Mark was gay, or even if you were a girl, you two would have never worked out.’
Donghyuck wants to get upset. He wants to Heimlich manoeuvre Renjun so that he throws up his sandwich. He wants to do something juvenile, like walk out of the classroom and scream in the middle of the school oval. Most of all, he just wants to prove Renjun wrong, to get Mark to look at him the way he looks at Mark. But Renjun’s right. Renjun’s always right about these things. ‘That’s a shame,’ Donghyuck laughs, and he hates how forced it is, hates how shaky his voice gets, ‘I’d make the cutest girl.’ Maybe if he was a girl Mark could look over all the things that aren’t right between the two of them and love him back a little bit. Mark’s always had a soft spot for pretty girls.
‘You really would. Remember that one time you went in drag for the school musical two years ago and everyone ate that shit up?’ Renjun checks his phone, frowning when he sees the time. ‘Wait. You know where everyone else is?’
Donghyuck shrugs. ‘Not sure. Mark mentioned he’d sit with us, but he probably got caught up with some kind of Prefect duty. I saw Jeno and Jaemin in Advanced English, but I can’t remember what they had after that. Any idea where Chenle and Jisung might be?’
‘Chenle’s probably off doing his own thing,’ Renjun murmurs, texting someone on his phone, thumbs flying furiously. ‘And you know Jisung. Wherever Chenle is, he follows.’
‘Like a baby chicken does its mother.’
‘That’s some real Oedipus complex that Jisung has, then,’ a voice rings from the doorway, and it’s Jaemin, striding through with those long legs of his. Jeno follows quickly behind him, waving bashfully. ‘Sorry we’re late, got caught up in Maths.’ Jaemin takes the seat next to Renjun, kissing his boyfriend lightly on the cheek. Renjun flushes cherry-blossom pink, and Donghyuck watches as Jeno’s eyes dart away from them, head down as he takes the seat next beside Donghyuck.
‘It’s all good,’ Renjun says, waving the apology away. ‘You’re here now, and that’s what matters.’ Donghyuck sneaks a look at Jeno, who’s busied himself with his phone. There’s a frown on his friend’s face, a thin one which stretches the corners of his mouth unnaturally. He’s not even doing anything on his phone, Donghyuck sees, just swiping along the screen of his phone aimlessly.
Oh, Jeno. Sweet, harmless Jeno with his soft heart. Jeno’s got it worse than Donghyuck ever could. Donghyuck nudges the boy with an elbow. ‘Yo. Jeno. Wanna go with me to the, uh, canteen?’ Jeno looks up at him, blinking with wide eyes, head tilting to the side. ‘Kinda feeling peckish.’
At that moment, Mark chooses to bound through the door, a bright smile on his face. Donghyuck feels his breath hitch, and Jeno’s eyes soften. Donghyuck knows what they’re saying. I know. Let’s get out of here. ‘Hey guys!’ Mark chirps, swinging his bag onto the table next to Jaemin. ‘What’s poppin’?’
‘Donghyuck and I were about to go to the canteen,’ Jeno says, standing up quickly, patting his back pocket to make their exit look more convincing. ‘Be right back, guys.’ He tucks in his chair neatly, linking his hands with Donghyuck as they walk out the door, jogging a little, pulling Donghyuck along. Donghyuck’s only able to get a glimpse of Mark’s slack-jawed, almost hurt expression before they begin to run down the hallway, only stopping once they’ve rounded the corner.
Donghyuck can’t help but laugh, snorting as he sees Jeno’s face crinkle into that signature smile of his, eyes curved and grin stretched wide. ‘When do you think they’ll realise that we never buy anything from the canteen?’
‘No idea,’ Jeno replies, cheerfully, ‘but we better make the most of the time we have, shouldn’t we?’
‘We should. So, spill what’s on your mind.’
Jeno frowns, leading Donghyuck down the stairs of C-Block, to the Music rooms, where they always go when they have these talks. ‘Shouldn’t we start about you being emo about Mark again?’
‘That’s old news,’ Donghyuck says, lightly punching Jeno in the shoulder with his free hand. ‘C’mon. What’s got you down today?’
‘The usual.’
‘Can’t handle a little bit of boy-on-boy action, can you?’ Donghyuck says, teasing, but something aches in his chest at the way the light in Jeno’s eyes dim when they make contact with his, even as Jeno tries to smile back. ‘I’m sorry, man. You know I run my mouth.’
‘No, no, it’s okay. It’s what makes you you, Hyuck. Don’t feel like you have to censor yourself around me.’ Jeno squeezes his hand gently, and sweet Lord is Donghyuck fond of his friend. ‘I’ll just roast you extra hard later, yeah?’
Donghyuck rolls his eyes, following Jeno as they walk to the Music rooms. ‘You couldn’t roast me even if you had an industrial oven set to a hundred and eighty degrees fan-forced.’
‘Watch yourself, man.’ Jeno chuckles a little bit at the quip, the noise dying quickly, replaced with a sigh. ‘But yeah. I thought it’d get better as the years went by? I thought I’d get used to it. Like, you think it’s enough to see the person you like happy with someone else. It’s enough to see them smile. He still walks with me to school, you know. He still texts me every morning with a little “good morning!”, and he always puts a heart next to it.’ Jeno stops once they get to one of the practice rooms, a smaller one that never gets used because the piano inside isn’t quite tuned properly.
Donghyuck mournfully releases his friend’s hand, opening the door, letting Jeno in first before closing it with a click. ‘If I wasn’t worried about encouraging you,’ Donghyuck sighs, ‘I’d say that’s some real gay shit.’
‘I know!’ Jeno throws up his hands, exasperated. ‘And it’s worse because he is gay. And he’s been in a happy relationship for years now and I still can’t get over him.’ Donghyuck sits down on the carpeted floor, patting at the space to his right. Jeno takes a seat beside him, pressing their thighs together, linking their hands again. ‘He’s just so, you know.’
‘He’s Jaemin. And you love him for it.’
Jeno sighs, leaning his head against Donghyuck’s shoulder. ‘I wish I didn’t.’
‘It’s okay to,’ Donghyuck murmurs, lips brushing against Jeno’s hair. ‘It’s not good for you, but it’s not like you can help it. Some people you just don’t get over.’ He runs his thumb in circles over the back of Jeno’s palm. ‘It’s not like you can’t fall for someone else, right?’ Donghyuck’s a little confused when Jeno tenses against him. He worries that he said the wrong thing – didn’t Jeno want to stop liking Jaemin? Wouldn’t it be a good thing if he liked someone else, then? He squeezes Jeno’s hand, and his friend squeezes back, the slight panic in Donghyuck’s chest loosening a bit.
‘You’re not wrong, I guess.’ Jeno says, softly, and Donghyuck’s worried as to how strained his voice sounds, even when he’s speaking so quietly. ‘It would’ve been alright, just having feelings for him.’
‘Just having feelings for him?’
‘It started in the holidays,’ Jeno says, voice a little wobbly, and it makes Donghyuck let go of his hand so he can swing it over Jeno’s shoulders, taking Jeno’s hand again with his other one. ‘You never came to our meetups. I’m sort of glad you weren’t there, I was so pathetic –’
‘Jeno, you’re not pathetic.’
‘– but I wish you were because I had to see him and Renjun together the entire time, and Mark was always going off with Chenle and Jisung whenever we went out, and Jaemin wouldn’t stop smiling the whole time and I couldn’t stop taking photos of him and obviously I had to send them to Renjun as well because. You know, they’re dating and everything and I’m clearly not dating Jaemin and why would half my camera roll be pictures of him if it’s not for sending to his fucking boyfriend?’ Jeno wipes his face on his sleeve, the beginning of frustrated tears threatening to spill out. ‘And it’s pathetic, because Renjun’s so nice and pretty and so good with art and his hands are so nice and he’s perfect for Jaemin and they look so damn good together and they’re so good to each other as well and I can’t even be happy for them because I’m a selfish bitch!’
‘Woah,’ Donghyuck says, pressing his cheek against the crown of Jeno’s head, heart twinging when he feels the shaky sobs that start to run through Jeno’s body. ‘It’s not selfish to have feelings. You can’t blame yourself for liking someone. Don’t blame yourself for being a person, Jeno.’
Jeno sniffs back a sob, nudging his way further into Donghyuck’s arms. ‘I am selfish, Hyuck. I thought I could be okay with just liking Jaemin. I’ve liked him since we were, like, babies.’ Jeno laughs at this, a hysterical sound that hurts Donghyuck to hear. ‘I thought, hey, you know, it’s fine if I love him forever. I’m used to it, you know. Comes easier than breathing, sometimes.’ I know that feeling, Donghyuck thinks. God, do I know it. ‘But that wasn’t enough for me. Won’t ever be enough for me. Wanna know why?’
Donghyuck presses a gentle kiss against Jeno’s temple. ‘Go on.’
‘Liking Jaemin wasn’t enough, Hyuck,’ Jeno says, and his voice is choked up, raspy from his tears. ‘It wasn’t enough to be in love with my best friend, because I had to go and fall for Renjun as well.’ And he bursts into tears, unable to help it, hiding his face in Donghyuck’s chest as he cries. Donghyuck lets the knowledge sink in, heart feels like it’s dropped out of his chest as he realises the gravity of the situation. He can’t begin to imagine how Jeno feels.
‘It’s not okay,’ Donghyuck whispers, wiping the tears off Jeno’s cheeks with his thumbs. ‘I’m not going to try pretend it’s okay. But it gets better, alright? It won’t hurt as much after a while.’ Jeno hiccups, coughing miserably into Donghyuck’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you earlier. I’m so, so sorry.’
Donghyuck thinks it’s unfair that someone like Jeno, who always greets the cleaners in the mornings, who never fails to help out the juniors even when he has a class to go to next, who adopted three cats even though he has a cat allergy, has no luck in love. He wonders why life isn’t kinder to such a good person. It’s frustrating that Jeno has to deal with this, with his feelings for two people, two of his best friends, frustrating that Jeno’s expected to smile through it like there’s nothing wrong. It’s even more frustrating that Donghyuck can’t do anything for him, can’t do anything except steal him away during their breaks and hold him tight. ‘Don’t be sorry,’ says Jeno, and his voice is just so small and it’s breaking Donghyuck’s heart all over again. ‘It’s not your fault, Hyuck. Never will be.’
‘Sort of wish it was. Then I could do something for you. Balance it out, make it right for you.’
Jeno slides a hand into his own pocket, rummaging around and pulling out a crinkled tissue. He dabs at the corners of his eyes, blowing his nose. ‘That sounds pretty gay, dude.’
Donghyuck feels his soul leave his body. He moves his hands to Jeno’s throat, wrapping his fingers around his friend’s neck and squeezing lightly. ‘Fuck off,’ he hisses, whilst Jeno yelps, flapping his fists against Donghyuck’s chest.
‘You know,’ Jeno says, once he’s fended off Donghyuck’s assault, ‘I really do love you.’ He smiles at Donghyuck, eyes puffy and cheeks tear-streaked, but it’s a smile nonetheless, and it warms something in Donghyuck’s chest.
‘Awh, you. Come here before I choke you again.’ Donghyuck stretches out his arms, ready for the best cuddle session of his life.
And that’s when the door to the practice room opens.
It’s an ungraceful moment. The door slams into Donghyuck’s knee, and he thinks he breaks the sound barrier with his subsequent screaming. Jeno falls over, face planting into Donghyuck’s crotch, and when he claws his way upright his head knocks into Donghyuck’s chin. Donghyuck ends up shoving Jeno into the nearby piano, still screaming, and Jeno grabs onto the piano keys, yelping in horror when the piano lid decides to fall closed against the back of his hands
‘I,’ the figure at the door says, in horror as he sees the crumpled figures of the two whimpering boys beneath him, ‘am so sorry.’
Donghyuck groans, cheek pressed against the floor. He swears to God he’s going to rip the balls off of the guy who barged into the practice room, turning over and opening his mouth to say something when a familiar hand grabs his own, pulling him upright.
It’s Lucas.
‘I’m so, so sorry,’ Lucas continues, Donghyuck looking behind him to see Jeno mournfully nursing the skin just beneath his knuckles. ‘I really didn’t see you there, I just wanted to give back something you’d left and Mr. Moon told me you frequent the music rooms so I thought you’d be in here and I really didn’t mean to slam a door into you, will you ever forgive me? I’ll give you my firstborn child. Is my firstborn enough? But I really want shared custody, because I honestly don’t think I could bear to give up my actual chid? Is that okay with you?’
Donghyuck can’t really comprehend all the English being thrown at him right now. ‘What?’
‘Jungwoo tells me I talk a lot when I’m nervous,’ Lucas continues, wide eyes blinking rapidly at Donghyuck. ‘I think it’s because the more I talk the more people get confused and so it makes whatever I did wrong fade into the background like it’s on a magnificent steed, galloping away across the horizon?’
‘Makes sense,’ Donghyuck replies, completely confounded. ‘Hey, Jeno. You alright there, though?’ Jeno weakly throws Donghyuck a thumbs up. Donghyuck gives him two thumbs-ups back and turns back to Lucas. ‘What are you here for again?’
‘You left something in my class this morning,’ Lucas says, and Donghyuck pales when he sees the sheets of paper held in Lucas’ hand. ‘I wanted to talk to you about it.’
Donghyuck can’t think. ‘Mark’s in your class, right? Why didn’t you hand it to him?’ Everyone and their mother know that Mark’s in the same friendship group as Donghyuck. Their little squad’s been infamous since Donghyuck brought everyone in it to the principal’s office in Year 8 when he climbed on the library roof to sing Sia’s Chandelier after rigging a handheld microphone to the school’s PA system.
‘You wouldn’t have wanted him to see it.’ Lucas’ eyes are soft but unforgiving, hiding steel, and Donghyuck knows the truth is written all over his face. ‘I…I read it by accident. Not by accident, because I definitely read it intentionally, but I didn’t realise how private it was until I was halfway through reading it.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah. I just. Have this back,’ Lucas says hastily, thrusting the printed papers towards Donghyuck. ‘It’s yours. I shouldn’t hold onto it anymore.’
Donghyuck’s fingers reach for the paper, automatically, the quickened pace of his heartbeat that he barely noticed slowing when he runs his fingertips along the creases of the pages. He looks up again, eyes making contact with Lucas’s lips, the way he’s nervously chewing on his bottom one. ‘Thank you.’
‘No problem.’ Lucas runs a hand through his hair, looking off to the side. ‘I slipped a note in there for later. I’m not the best with words, but I wanted to say something, you know? It’s not my place, but.’ He flaps a large hand in Donghyuck’s direction. ‘Yeah. I’ll just get going now.’ He bobs his head down, like he’s about to bow but reconsiders halfway. It’s horribly endearing to watch. Donghyuck reminds himself not to get attached – he doesn’t know Lucas. He doesn’t need to know him. He’s got his friends and himself and that’s enough.
‘See you!’ Jeno waves, cross-legged on the floor as Lucas strides out the door, head down and hand in the pockets of his pointedly non-uniform windbreaker.
It’s oddly hard to tear his eyes from Lucas’ retreating form. Donghyuck watches his figure break into a run, darting around the corner of the hallway. His composition feels heavy in his hands.
Jeno stands up, coming up to lean against Donghyuck’s shoulder. ‘Lucas seems nice.’
‘I guess,’ Donghyuck says. He can’t quite get the slant of Lucas’ eyes, wide and brown and honest, out of his head. ‘Wait. Are you alright though?’
The bell rings, shrill against their ears. Donghyuck winces as he feels Jeno jolt against him. ‘I will be.’ Jeno presses his cheek against Donghyuck’s, and he feels the older boy mouth a kiss in his direction. ‘What do you have now?’
‘Pretty sure I have a free.’
‘Oh, nice. So do I.’ Jeno turns to him, properly, and there’s a funny quirk to his lips. ‘Let’s go get our bags first.’
‘First?’ Donghyuck grins, feigning obliviousness. ‘What could we possibly want to do next?’
‘Woolies run?’
Hell yeah. ‘Woolies run it is.’
It’s only after they’ve returned from Woolworths, where Donghyuck’s bought his body weight in 50% off Connoisseur Matcha ice cream, when Donghyuck remembers that Lucas had left a message for him in his composition. He’s spooning the ice cream into his mouth as Jeno inhales Cheetos, Russian hard bass blasting from Jeno’s phone when the realisation hits, and it almost makes Donghyuck drop his shitty plastic spoon into the grass they’re sitting on. ‘Wait,’ he says, nudging Jeno’s head off his thigh as he looks around for his backpack. ‘I just need to get something.’
‘Oh?’
Donghyuck manages to pull the composition out of his bag, shaking it roughly. A folded piece of lined paper falls out of it, a tiny piece of washi tape hanging off it where Lucas must have lightly taped it to his composition, and he picks it up. ‘Got it. Resume your previous endeavours.’
Jeno shrugs, going back to stuffing Cheetos into his mouth. Donghyuck can’t help but feel nervous, something odd rattling around in his chest as he unfolds the piece of paper. It shouldn’t be too big a deal. It’s just a piece of paper, after all. Worst comes to worst is that Lucas has pranked him, or made fun of his music, and if either of them happen then Donghyuck will just deal out double the retribution. He wonders if Lucas has allergies. Nut allergies would be easy to deal with.
Once the paper’s completely unfolded, Donghyuck begins to read. Lucas’ handwriting is neat, a gently curved print that’s the epitome of legible. It’s nice to look at, Donghyuck thinks. He should probably get to actually comprehending the words.
Donghyuck, it starts. I want to say sorry for reading this. I know I probably said it in person, but I wanted to say it again, just in case.
Alright, Donghyuck thinks. Going well so far.
I don’t know you. I don’t know if I’ll ever know you. But what I just read is one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever read in my entire life, and I might have a minor concussion right now but it doesn’t mean I’m completely stupid. I think my ATAR’s safe, at the very least.
But anyone with eyes could see that you’re hurting. I see you around sometimes and you’ve always got this tiny frown on like you’ve left the stove on at home but you can’t go home for another twelve hours so you’ve resigned yourself to having your house on fire and no worldly possessions left to your name. You’re hurting, and it looks like you’ve tried to make peace with the pain, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt anymore.
Donghyuck vaguely wonders if Lucas is a perpetual crackhead, but then thinks a little deeper and wonders if he's actually really some kind of genius instead. There’s something ramble-y and whimsical about the way he talks and writes, but he’s oddly precise. Strangely, dangerously sweet, as earnest and honest as his eyes are.
After I read your composition, I realised what it was. And I’m sorry again, sorry that I know so much about you now without getting to know you first. I’m sorry I violated your privacy like that.
I’ll just say this though – I wish you weren’t hurting. I remember the first time I saw you, on top of the library roof hitting all the high notes in Sia’s ‘Chandelier’. You looked like you were having the time of your life. I’ve never seen someone smile that wide. You looked like you didn’t need anything else except yourself and the music.
It was beautiful, and
The rest of the sentence is scribbled out, hastily. Donghyuck blinks, numbly, taking the time to digest the words on the page. He knew he was infamous, but he hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected to be remembered as much more than a joke.
But he isn’t a joke, not to Lucas, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it.
There’s a lot of pain in the world, but there’s a lot of beautiful things too. I hope you’re surrounded by the beautiful things. I hope you know you’re one of them – I think you kind of inspired me throughout the last few years. I remember wanting to be as bold, as unashamedly myself as you are. I hope I can be a fraction of the boy I saw that day.
I hope Mark realises what he’s missing out on.
If you ever need someone to talk to, I’ve always got time on my hands for you. It’d be great to make a new friend.
A friend. Huh.
Donghyuck thinks back to the warmth of Lucas’ hands, his gentleness and honesty. His first thought is that they’re completely different, his second that the boy Lucas has in his memories is nowhere near the boy Donghyuck is today. Where Donghyuck hides generosity and consideration behind a veneer of bravado, Lucas wears his heart on his sleeve, almost dazzlingly so. Donghyuck thinks too much, hates confrontation, will lie with a smile if it means others will smile too. Lucas seems upfront, thoughtfully carefree, optimistic, open.
Too open.
‘Hyuck.’ Donghyuck looks down, to see Jeno looking up at him, brow furrowed a little. ‘Duckie?’
‘Hm?’ Jeno’s doing that thing with his face where he looks constipated, but it really means that he wants to say something but doesn’t know what words he should be using. Donghyuck wonders what he wants to ask.
‘You kind of look stressed.’
“Stressed” is, upon some level of reflection, what Donghyuck thinks is an understatement. He doesn’t know what to do with the letter. Doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with Lucas. All of a sudden someone he’s only ever really paid attention to in passing knows one of his most deeply-repressed secrets and he doesn’t even know if he should be concerned or not, and that’s even more confusing because as soft as Donghyuck can get with his friends, he’s not just going to trust anyone who tries to walk into his life because they have a nice face and a way with words.
Maybe he should just forget about it.
Jeno pokes Donghyuck in the ribs. ‘Hyuckie. All good?’
‘Yeah. All good.’ If Jeno notices the tightness to Donghyuck’s smile, he says nothing.
Yeah, Donghyuck thinks he should forget about it. He doesn’t have the time to make new friends anyways.
Okay, maybe he does, but he doesn’t have the time to deal with when people inevitably get tired of him because he’s got nothing to offer, when they realise the snark and bravery is all an act. He doesn’t need to be in love to have his heart broken.
As he folds the letter back into a neat rectangle, sliding it into the embroidered pocket on the chest of his school shirt, Donghyuck decides that he just won’t engage with Lucas. It’s fine. The guy probably had some kind of ulterior motive – maybe he was looking for someone to pass the time with because he was bored (since the Chandelier incident, Donghyuck's been the school's figurehead of knowing how to stretch the limits without getting suspended), maybe he wanted someone to bounce assignment ideas off. Maybe he wanted Donghyuck’s lunch money or something cliché like that.
Honestly? It’s not like Lucas really wants to be his friend. He probably just feels sorry for him. Donghyuck wouldn’t want to be friends with himself. He wonders how his friends group does it, sometimes. It’s probably because they’ve known each other so long, they probably feel obliged to let Donghyuck tag along.
He’s just going to go on with his life, do what needs to be done. He’ll go to school and attend his classes, hang around his friends and do some odd jobs for Mr. Moon on the side. Maybe he’ll help Johnny, the school’s general assistant, some time with IT stuff every now and then. Johnny always likes to give him Tim Tams. What a guy.
Then he’ll go home, help Taeyong out with the bakery, do his homework, work on some compositions until he can’t make out the notes he’s writing from the paper in front of him, and then he’ll go to sleep, wake up, and repeat until he graduates and goes off into the world to do fuck knows what. He’ll walk the school corridors truly, fully not giving any shits.
And if, and when he notices the hurt look on Lucas’ face when he walks past him, pointedly ignoring him, Donghyuck won’t let it get to him.
It would probably be a trick of the light, after all.