Chapter Text
It's a Sunday morning, 2am to be exact, when Sehyoon knows he fucked up.
By dawn he'll become the laughing stock of Willow Grove University. For a class of exceptionally intelligent adults, they're far too immature.
Sehyoon brought this upon himself, didn't he? You down three and a half bottles of off-brand Belvedere, because who the fuck can afford the real deal when you're knee deep in student loans, and think you're a new person. Wrong. He's still 22-year old Kim Sehyoon who's currently on his knees at the party of God Knows Who in front of his bygone boyfriend pleading for forgiveness when he shouldn't even be the one apologizing.
He ignores the cameras and begins to sob, hiccups of I need you and You're gonna regret this. He wonders what his mom would think if she sees her sweet baby boy went viral for kissing the feet of the guy she never approved of, the guy her son snuck out of the house at midnight for, the guy Sehyoon took to homecoming and prom, the guy Sehyoon spent 5 years of his life on despite being told he was no good.
Well, guess who he proved right?
He portrayed a toddler better than the kid itself, kicking and screaming, rolling around on the floor because he didn't get what he wanted. It went on for so long that he couldn't even remember what it was exactly that he yearned for and it wasn't until everyone's storage reached maximum value that he caught up to the cheap alcohol and accepted the fact that he was indeed, done for. The aroma of hot bodies choked him as he blurred his vision, scanning the room for the nearest exit, rocketing once identified.
Sehyoon knew one thing, his grades were gonna pit. He'll be damned if he showed up to class Monday. If he did, he'd only be clowned for a good ten minutes until he's sent elsewhere for class disruption, not like it's his fault, it definitely was his fault. He'd probably receive an email in a few hours saying he's excused for the rest of the week. He knows it won't happen, but the absurd imagination puts a smile on his face as he paced campus.
He can't go back to his dorm, he's certain Byeongkwan has had more than enough of his whining, the poor boy has growls at everyone who eyes Sehyoon, even for a second. He's his best friend, his only friend and Sehyoon knows he's tired, tired of defending him, tired of being the shoulder he cries on, tired of bringing him overdue assignments he's had to journey across campus to get, only for Sehyoon to scribble some random shit that gets him half his average grade, at least put in some effort this time, the amount of times he's heard that in the past month.
Everyone's tired of him. He doesn't have a single clue who everyone is, but it's true. Not to be dramatic, but he’d be better off dead. Right? Out of sight, his voice no longer heard, his name soon forgotten. Maybe everyone who plans on posting him would feel bad if he died, deleting the video from their phones, going back on social media to pay their respects, holding some small kind of gathering in honor of him, he doubts it. Maybe his ex would realize that Sehyoon was telling the truth, that he'd never lie to him, that he was his everything and he really did plan on spending the rest of his life with him, he doubts it. Maybe if he just decided to skip class for the remainder of the year, the board would figure he dropped out or something, after all he's been pretty close a few times, he doubts it. His room would be raided before anything, getting both him and Byeongkwan in trouble and that's the last thing he wants to do after all the boy does for him.
He's neared suicide a few times. Of course they all went awry, hence his presence today, as tainted as that is. He wanders the grounds of the school he went through hell to get into, just to be with his soulmate. A few places cross his mind, all not worthy of being the pillar for his final breath. The roof of the library is suitable, but Sehyoon's out of shape and would probably call campus security to help him down the second he's reached the top, there's one factor. He could jump into the river near the residence halls, but he realized his sophomore year it was powered by a motor and is all for show, another factor. Nothing really works in his favor, does it?
He remembers sitting on the bleachers of the football stadium once with Byeongkwan and listened to his friend rant about how high and dangerous they were for the marching band to play on every Saturday.
Lightbulb.
Cardio was something Sehyoon was punished with in Junior High for not participating in gym class. Of course he skipped after having to run half a lap around the track, it wasn't for him, but he's never ran so fast in his life to the stadium. His head spinning, booze churning his intestines, he would've been worrying about having his stomach pumped if he hadn't been so sure about this. He's never been more positive about something before.
To his surprise the gate was open, less panic about getting his jeans caught in the pickets and more time to soak in the joy of never feeling more alive. This is what he wanted, this is what everyone wanted. A note would be a more proper goodbye, at least let his dear mother know his reason, but she'd probably feel less sympathy for her child if she knew he killed himself over a boy and public humiliation, she'd call him a coward, probably spit on his grave too. A note for the custodians cleaning up his mess would be nice, but they've probably seen worse, right? It's not like they care about him anyway, no one does.
Byeongkwan would be devastated, no doubt, but the thought of rooming alone even stops Sehyoon midway through the climb to the top. He'd be more relieved of not having to comfort his friend who cries every other day than anything, Sehyoon’s doing him a favor.
He sits on the edge of the final stand, swinging his feet back and forth, admiring the height he’s at, analyzing the exact angle he'd land at. In mere moments, he’ll finally be free, no more threats, no more stress, no more crying, everyone would be free of the weight on their shoulders. This was their motive from the beginning, Sehyoon was about to give them what they wanted, he was letting them win. He stood, his legs wobbling ever so slightly, a light smile on his face...
. . .
Run.
The word shined boldly on the screen of his phone. No doubt coach would be awake at two in the morning on a Sunday, probably laying out the next set of moves he had for Junhee on his game board. He has to be especially perfect for the old man.
Which is why he complies to the text and let's Donghun win at their hour long game of Uno. Both men not being able to sleep and Donghun suggesting a short round, one turning into three, lasting longer than expected. His roommate complained and worried for his safety, offering to keep company, but that was the last thing Junhee wanted, more company equals more distractions. He shut him up with a proffer to take him out to the expensive 24 hour café in the engineering department the second he returns.
He almost throws the keys to the stadium in the incinerator of his building, but considers his consequence and chokes himself for a second with the lanyard before continuing to the elevator.
After all, this is his passion, right?
He runs on his way to the track. Runs until he's already broken through a new pair of shoes, until there's blisters on his base and heels, until old sores rebloom, until the gravel infects his feet terribly that it sends him back to the ER, resulting in a week out of practice, which leaves him going harder than his body can obtain.
He ran campus on an empty stomach once his freshman year, coach encouraged the rookies to hold back on meals before practice, his subtle way of telling 17 year old boys to starve themselves. His life on the line was old news to the man once Junhee won the gold at nationals, granting the whole team a well deserved week free of hell.
His finger pointed at the Olympics this year, he has to go out with a bang, prove coach wrong once and for all, that he’s equipped to be the best of the best, it’s come home number one or accept the disgrace of being first loser. And Junhee was far from a loser.
He doesn't stop, not even to unlock the gate, sprinting in place, taking off once freed. Getting the same result on his third 400M attempt, he sits only to return to his feet and jog, cameras are probably on him, catching his every angle, if he's seized sitting, that's his life.
He wonders for a second, how life would be if pressure wasn't on him every minute of everyday. He'd probably go out, drink his life away, turn in assignments late, live the university dream just like everyone else. But he was far from being like everyone else, he never wanted to be like anyone else but himself, built that mentality last year after being punished for watching another runner's technique on YouTube. Never again. He has his own way of doing things, his own way of getting things, it isolates him from the rest and he's learned to accept if not love it.
Somewhere between idolizing a normal adult life and a new style to beat his personal record, he begins to cry, the wind peeling his tears towards the back of his head as he throws one foot in front of the other. He hasn't cried since Donghun hugged him for his 18th birthday and told him that he was doing great, that he'd make it to the top one day and to never give up. He was now at the top, this was what he wanted, he's now the dreaded word, perfect, everyone's shining star, he shouldn't be the one crying.
His pace slows when he discerns a figure on the stands. No one should be here but him, his fault for leaving the gate open. And for the first time in quite the while, he walks, crossing through the football field to the bleachers. About to yell for the figure to leave when it stands, back towards Junhee, it does nothing for a minute but stand there, like it's waiting to be moved. It's only when it spreads it's arms in preparation to fly is when Junhee becomes conscious of this outcome. Oh dear God, Junhee's voice barely sounds and his legs launch themselves towards the culprit. He skips every other stand and barely makes it in grabbing the tip of the male's finger, using whatever upper body strength he can sustain after midnight in bringing the other towards him, wrapping both arms around him as if he's his mother once succeeding.
"Are you crazy? You could've fucking killed yourself up there! What the hell is wrong with you?" Junhee, oblivious to his own words, shakes the boy. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so harsh, are you okay?" He skims him.
"That was the point." Sehyoon wrangles himself from Junhee's grip and practically throws himself down the bleachers.
Junhee holds his silence and follows. He's never been in a situation as such. He's never met someone like this, in search of what words to say, afraid the wrong thing will send the other over the edge. Literally.
Sehyoon pounds his forehead with the ball of his palm. Something, it's always something that resumes his suffering, he leaves the stadium, hearing the gate close behind him. "Would you please stop following me." It comes out as a demand more so question.
Junhee doesn't accede, "Where's your dorm? Let me walk you."
"I said stop following me, I'm okay." Sehyoon faces Junhee, yet stares at the concrete below.
"You just tried to—I'm taking you to your dorm." Junhee says, reluctant in grabbing Sehyoon's sleeve, but does so anyway. "You're also drunk out of your mind, I can smell your breath from behind you." Sehyoon leaves the words he wants to say on his tongue because he's right. "I'm Junhee."
I know, is what Sehyoon would like to say, but he doesn't think out loud because who the fuck doesn't know Junhee, the Park Junhee, it's kind of embarrassing that he has to introduce himself, he thinks. If Sehyoon were Mr. Perfect, he wouldn't waste his time on taking a drunk boy who got on his knees for his ex back to his room. Why is he even being nice to him? Hasn't he heard about Kim Sehyoon, the one who supposedly fucked his boyfriend's sister and got caught? Kim Sehyoon, the no one who became someone overnight. Of course he knows Sehyoon, everyone knows him now, sure his eyes are bloodshot and his voice is out of pitch but he's still the same old Sehyoon, depressed and insecure, couldn't get better than that.
If he was in his right mind, he'd flee from Junhee, probably would've jumped the second he heard the trackstar's foot clash with the metal of the bleachers, but he didn't. And for a second, a thought that he actually doesn't want to kill himself occurs, but he's wrong because he does. He's always wrong, according to the entirety of their university. But Sehyoon's eyes keep crossing and Junhee has to lift him like a child learning how to walk every five minutes because his feet are winding between each other and all he's aching to do right now is curl up under Byeong and tell him how he messed up, again, because he knows he'll listen, he always listens. Always.
And that's exactly what he does. Junhee and Byeongkwan exchange smiles when Sehyoon's dropped off and it leaves him thinking, just for a second, that the possibility of history between the two is likely, Byeongkwan would never show gratitude to a stranger. Maybe Byeongkwan paid Junhee or offered him an incentive for stalking Sehyoon whenever he went out and of course, Sehyoon had no idea. Maybe this was a set up, the whole rescue thing, to teach Sehyoon a lesson, Byeongkwan's profound way of showing Sehyoon that he should cherish his life and that someone actually does care about him. He doesn't question their relationship, just cries into his best friend's chest and falls asleep in his arms after another course of comfort.