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If there’s one thing he doesn’t give a shit about, it’s physics.
“You don’t give a shit about trig either,” Chanyeol notes, and he reaches across the table to ruffle Kyungsoo’s hair. He ducks out of it, pushes his glasses back up onto his face, and grimaces. “Aw, don’t make that face. People will think you hate me.”
“I do hate you,” Kyungsoo says. “And I also hate physics. I can hate lots of things at once. It’s multitasking.”
Chanyeol ignores him. He’s good at that. “Physics is, like, easy,” he says. “You just refuse to read the textbook.”
“I shouldn’t have to read the textbook,” Kyungsoo says. “The information should be conveyed to me—”
“By osmosis?” Chanyeol smirks.
“Jokes on you,” Kyungsoo sneers, staring down at his paper filled with Chanyeol’s handwriting, “I don’t know what that means.”
“You’re being purposefully dense.”
“I am being naturally dense.”
Chanyeol laughs, and he gets up out of his chair, standing up straight and stretching. He is—Kyungsoo doesn’t even know how he ended up here with Chanyeol, of all people. Chanyeol is the type of person to be on student council. Chanyeol is the type of person to be vice president of the student council. Chanyeol is the type to have more friends than he can count, the type to make a new one every single day of his life. Chanyeol is the type of person to have the loudest lunch table in the cafe, bustling and bursting with life and energy.
Kyungsoo is the type to sit there and eat his food.
“Stop daydreaming.”
Kyungsoo jumps, Chanyeol sat right next to him and leaning into his space. He almost shivers, the warmth seeping in.
“W-what are you doing?” Kyungsoo says, and he shoves Chanyeol a bit. “Get back on the other side of the table.”
“No,” Chanyeol grins, and he pokes down at Kyungsoo’s paper in front of him. “Come on. You’re getting nothing done. Solve for P.”
Kyungsoo looks down at the paper. It might as well be written in Latin: Greg runs up the stairs, elevating his 102 kg body a vertical distance of 2.29 meters in a time of 1.32 seconds at a constant speed.
“God, I really wish I had the core strength to have stripping as a fallback,” Kyungsoo mutters.
Chanyeol laughs loudly, and the librarian looks over, ready to glare at him. But Chanyeol just waves at her charmingly, and the librarian waves back. Fuckin’ pretty boys. They can do no wrong.
“Solve,” Chanyeol orders. “Or else.”
“Or else what?” Kyungsoo says.
“Or else I’ll tell your parents you finally know what you’re gonna do after graduation,” Chanyeol says. “Ladies, please welcome to the stag—”
Kyungsoo grabs his pencil, starts scribbling nonsense, and Chanyeol laughs again: loud, boisterous, and sweet.
∅
Before, Kyungsoo would have been more than happy to go through the entire day speaking to absolutely no one. Except for maybe Sehun. In his mind, he was there to graduate, and that was it. He had no real interest in school, continuing his education, or even making friends. Except for maybe Sehun.
Somehow, over the course of their friendship, Chanyeol made him reconsider these things.
Chanyeol always sits next to him in homeroom, his arm around the back of Kyungsoo’s chair as his friends crowd around them. Kyungsoo tries his best not to shrink against the attention.
They walk out, go to their lockers, and Kyungsoo grabs his books. He had quietly walked into homeroom with his backpack, unable to reach his locker beforehand. He puts all his stuff away very carefully, and he feels Chanyeol’s eyes on him.
“Hey,” Chanyeol says, twisting his locker dial from the side. “Late again?”
“Only by a minute,” Kyungsoo says, waving around his pink slip, “and yet here we are.”
“You should have asked them to let you slide this once,” Chanyeol says. “You want me to talk to the lady?”
“What would that do?” Kyungsoo scoffs.
“She’s friends with my mom,” Chanyeol shrugs. “And like, she always buys stuff from me whenever we’re doing fundraisers, so she likes me, I guess.”
“Of course she does.” He mutters, pinning the pink slip to the inside of the locker door with a magnet before shutting it behind him.
“No one would ever believe you’re barely a C student,” Chanyeol laughs. “You’re so organized.”
“You don’t need to be a rocket scientist to like things being clean,” Kyungsoo says.
“No,” Chanyeol smiles. “I guess not.”
Kyungsoo looks up at Chanyeol from his crouch, and Chanyeol looks incredibly tall this way, taller than he normally looks. Kyungsoo looks back down, grabs his Lit books from off the floor, and stands up.
“You have English, right?” Chanyeol asks. “I’ll walk you there.”
“Don’t you have AP Psych?” Kyungsoo asks. “Isn’t that downstairs?”
“It’s cool,” Chanyeol shrugs before grabbing his textbook and shutting his own locker. “Let’s go. You don’t wanna be late again.”
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, but he follows close behind as Chanyeol walks, just barely keeping up with his gait. He attempts to ignore Chanyeol’s actions, tries not to analyze this too much. Ever since Chanyeol introduced himself, ever since he started ingratiating himself into Kyungsoo’s life and gradually started to bring Kyungsoo out of his shell, Kyungsoo has wondered why. Why me? It never made much sense to him, but he figured if Chanyeol wanted to waste his time with a loser like him, it was his own business.
“You still wanna study today?” Chanyeol asks.
“Yeah, if you—if you have time, I mean,” Kyungsoo says. “I have that test coming up, and it’s like…”
“I got time,” Chanyeol smiles.
“Okay,” Kyungsoo says, and he stares at the ugly speckled floor as they walk.
They get to the stairs, and Chanyeol takes them two at a time, long-legged freak that he is. Kyungsoo hustles to keep up.
“You wanna eat lunch at our table today?” Chanyeol asks.
“Your table?”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol smiles. “It’s just, like, you always eat alone, so I figured I’d—”
It’s a knife to the gut, and Kyungsoo hopes like hell it doesn’t register as hurt on his face.
“Oh,” Kyungsoo says. “It’s fine. I—”
And he scrambles away, all but running away from Chanyeol as they reach the top of the steps.
“I’m fine,” he calls back over his shoulder.
He doesn’t know when he started to give a shit, just knows that he does. Kyungsoo’s never wanted Chanyeol’s pity. If he’s being honest with himself, all he ever wanted his love.
∅
Kyungsoo eats at his table, alone, and he feels Chanyeol’s eyes on him. He keeps his head down, pops his earphones in, and does his best to ignore it.
He’s supposed to go to the library after school, but he labors through all his classes thinking of it, and every time he happens back to the thought of Chanyeol sitting with him and talking to him and helping him just because he feels bad for Kyungsoo, it makes him angrier and angrier.
Chanyeol usually drives him home after they’re finished studying, so instead, Kyungsoo gets on the bus, head bumping against the safety glass windows, and shuts his eyes. He doesn’t need Chanyeol’s help. He certainly doesn’t need pity.
∅
He’s in the midst of ignoring his problem set when his phone starts vibrating wildly beside him. He ignores it without even glancing at the display, quickly dismissing it and going back to his very pressing need to acquire the The Boy Who Lived badge on Sporcle.
And it works, and he makes it through the Hogwarts Wizard Training and Harry Potter Mindfield quizzes, garnering a 94 percent and 61 percent respectively, before he loses interest and moves onto another quiz. And another. And another. But after a while, Kyungsoo doesn’t know how long, his phone buzzes again, and this time, he checks, seeing that the texts are from Sehun.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. He picks up the phone, slides to FaceTime, and calls Sehun.
“I’m driving,” is the first thing Sehun says, furrowing his brow angrily, but he props the phone up between the windshield and the dash. “Jesus Christ, this is not exactly how I envisioned my afternoon to go. What the fuck did you do to him, bud?”
“Nothing,” Kyungsoo says.
“Don’t just say nothing,” Sehun says. “He was depressed. Have you ever seen Chanyeol depressed?”
“No,” Kyungsoo says, but it’s none of his business. So he says as much.
“Jesus Christ, you are so delusional,” Sehun says, and he whips the wheel to the side as he turns. He’s a bad driver. Kyungsoo wants to smile. “What got you all angsty?”
“I’m not angsty,” Kyungsoo says.
“You are my best friend,” Sehun says. “I think I know some good ol’ fashioned angst when I see it.”
“Shut up.” Kyungsoo gets up, watching Sehun drive in silence, and he flops into his bed, holding the phone above him. He itches his scalp.
As Sehun pulls into his drive, Kyungsoo starts to sigh.
“You got something to say?” Sehun asks, unbuckling and grabbing his phone off the dash.
“No,” Kyungsoo says.
“Great,” Sehun says.
They sit there in silence. It is the basis of their friendship. They work this way. But sometimes, the way Sehun stares at him…
“Fine,” Kyungsoo says.
“Point,” Sehun says, and he wets the tip of his finger on his tongue with a grin, drawing a tally in the air. “What did the golden boy do to upset you?”
“I told you not to call him that,” Kyungsoo says. “But, uh, he invited me to eat lunch at their table today.”
“With Baekhyun and all them?” Sehun says. “What the fuck, why didn’t you go? You lucky bitch.”
“Because he only invited me because he feels bad for me,” Kyungsoo says, “since I sit by myself.”
“Is that what he said?”
“Essentially,” Kyungsoo says.
“This is why you suck at physics,” Sehun says. “You make wild leaps in logic.”
“It’s not a wild leap in logic to go from come sit with us, you always sit by yourself to I’m inviting you because I feel bad for you,” Kyungsoo says.
Sehun groans, and the sudden jolt into motion on the lagging connection, getting out of the car, shutting the door and grabbing his bag from the back of the car...it’s all very dizzying. Kyungsoo sits up so he doesn’t get motion sick.
“Why don’t you talk to him?” Sehun says.
“Why should I?”
“Look,” Sehun says, and he pauses outside his front door, “you know I don’t know him like that. I only know him because he’s close to you.”
Kyungsoo scoffs.
“He is close to you,” Sehun says. “And he knows we’re best friends. Which is why he interrupted dress rehearsals when I literally had my hand up Baekhyun’s shirt just so he could cry to me about you.”
“Wait,” Kyungsoo says. “Up his shirt?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, bitch,” Sehun smiles. “Hooking up his battery pack.”
“Is that the only reason you joined the drama club?” Kyungsoo says.
“You know that it is,” Sehun says. “So do me a favor and talk to golden boy. It would be great if we could somehow sneak into that friend group.”
“God, you’re such an awful friend,” Kyungsoo says.
“Call me, and tell me how it goes,” Sehun says. “I gotta do that fuckin’ problem set. It’s due tomorrow.”
“Shit.”
“You forgot?” Sehun smiles. “Hopeless.”
∅
Kyungsoo hustles through the rest of his problem set, rubbing at his eyes by the time it’s finished. He...he doesn’t trust himself to call Chanyeol, so he texts him his apology, hoping that he won’t ignore it the way Kyungsoo deserves to be ignored. He was so petty, he was so—
His phone buzzes immediately with Chanyeol’s responses.
Kyungsoo bites his lip. Frowns. He’s gotta...he’s gotta apologize somehow. He knows it’s kinda late for a school night, but he decides he should probably shoot his shot anyway.
He twists his fingers as he waits for Chanyeol’s response, but he doesn’t have to wait long.
Kyungsoo types out a quick affirmative and grabs his coat and bag, only very narrowly avoiding forgetting his problem set.
∅
It is a warm spring night, and his grades aren’t of that much importance to him. But he sits on the bench of the picnic table anyway, problem set in front of him, tapping the table nervously as he waits for Chanyeol to pull up.
When he steps out of the car, he ruffles his hair, and God, he is something. Kyungsoo looks down. Kicks his feet under the table.
“Hey,” Chanyeol says breathlessly. “Sorry. My mom was asking where I was going.”
“Ah, it’s okay,” Kyungsoo says, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Moms are like that.”
“Did yours ask?” Chanyeol asks.
“No,” Kyungsoo says. “She knows I’m boring, so I won’t get into trouble.”
Chanyeol laughs, and his smile is so bright, shining under the street light. He’s so pretty that it makes Kyungsoo want to do something stupid. Something stupid like stand up and kiss him, or run his fingers through his hair, or just say something silly like I really like you.
Chanyeol sits across from Kyungsoo, grabs the problem set. He gives it a glance, and Kyungsoo fiddles with his hands.
“This looks really good,” Chanyeol says with a smile. “Am I that good of a teacher?”
“Yeah, I guess you are,” Kyungsoo says, and he picks at the paint of the picnic table, chips it with his fingernail.
“Well,” Chanyeol says, “if that’s it, I should—”
Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to do, so he sticks his hand out, grabs Chanyeol by the wrist.
“No!” Kyungsoo says. And then reality of what he just did hits him the face. He quickly relinquishes his hold on Chanyeol. “God, I’m sorry, I dunno what I was thinking, I’m so weird.”
Kyungsoo stands up, shoves his problem set into his bag, starts walking away, trying to figure out exactly what he thought he was doing, grabbing Park Chanyeol of all people. He’s stupid, he’s an idiot. He’s—
“Hey.”
Kyungsoo turns, and he fears he wears a look of too much hope. But Chanyeol wears the same fond smile he always does when he looks at Kyungsoo. And it makes Kyungsoo’s stomach go warm with affection.
“Don’t go,” Chanyeol says. “Do you maybe wanna, like, I dunno, go sit on the swings?”
“Uh,” Kyungsoo says, “yeah. Yeah, sure.”
The swings sit amongst the wood chips, and the smell of them is earthy and strangely comforting. They sit next to each other, and Kyungsoo kicks at the wood chips near his feet.
“About today—”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, and the chains of the swings sing. “I wanted to talk about that. I just didn’t wanna pretend like nothing happened.”
“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo says. “I just...I dunno, I’m not usually so sensitive, but—”
“But it bothered you that I wanted you to sit with us,” Chanyeol says. “It’s fine. I get that some people prefer being alone. So I won’t ask again if you don’t want.”
“No, I….,” Kyungsoo says, and he doesn’t know exactly what to say to start. “I guess...I don’t know, it’s stupid, but I thought you just felt bad for me.”
“Felt bad for you?” Chanyeol says, and his face twists.
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo says. “I dunno. I never really understood why you wanted to hang out, so…”
“I like you,” Chanyeol says. “I think you’re cool.”
“Oh,” Kyungsoo says. “Right.”
“Did you really think I just, like, pitied you?” Chanyeol says. “What the fuck.”
“Sorry,” Kyungsoo says, and he stares down at the wood chips. Thinks about burying himself among them.
He hears Chanyeol get off his swing, and Kyungsoo shuts his eyes, hears movement. Kyungsoo imagines him walking away, but the sound seems to get closer to him.
“Get up.”
Kyungsoo looks up.
Chanyeol is staring down at him, serious, so Kyungsoo gets up.
“What?” Kyungsoo says.
“Come here,” Chanyeol says, and he opens his arms.
“W-wh—”
But Chanyeol doesn’t wait for Kyungsoo to answer, just pulls him into the embrace, resting his chin on Kyungsoo’s head once he’s wrapped in Chanyeol’s arms.
“I like you,” Chanyeol says. “Everyone said I was being super obvious, but like, I really like you. I dunno. I heard you singing in the choir room one time, and I thought, God, I’d like to, like, make some dumb shit on SoundCloud with him.”
Kyungsoo barks out a laugh.
“Don’t,” Chanyeol says, “you’ll wound my pride.”
“Sorry,” Kyungsoo says, and Chanyeol smells so, so good. Like clean laundry and some kind of cologne. Light, but there.
“It’s okay,” Chanyeol says. “I just...I found any way I could talk to you, all with the purpose of dragging you into a feature on my stupid mixtape, but then...I dunno. I found out I really fuckin’ liked you.”
“Stop,” Kyungsoo says, and he buries his face into Chanyeol’s chest, trying to hide. “I’ll get the wrong idea.”
Chanyeol pulls him back by the shoulders. “There is no wrong idea,” he says, and he stares into Kyungsoo’s eyes. “You got it.”
“What, you wanna, like, date me?” Kyungsoo says in disbelief.
“Ideally,” Chanyeol says.
“Is this a joke?” Kyungsoo says, cocking an eyebrow.
“Why do you always assume I’m messing with you?” Chanyeol laughs.
“Because you’re...I mean, you’re the golden boy,” Kyungsoo says, and he pokes Chanyeol in the chest emphatically. “You’re smart. You’re on the basketball team. You do, like, extracurriculars and shit. You’re handsome. Everyone wants to date you.”
“Everyone?” Chanyeol asks cutely, tilting his head to the side.
“Shut up,” Kyungsoo says, and he...he closes the gap between them, lays his forehead on Chanyeol’s chest. “Everyone.”
“Even you?” Chanyeol whispers.
“Even me,” Kyungsoo whispers back.
Chanyeol holds him close for several moments before gently tugging him back by the neck, and when Kyungsoo looks up, Chanyeol is staring at his mouth.
Oh, Kyungsoo thinks to himself, not even getting the chance to think this is happening before Chanyeol pulls him into a kiss. It is soft, and it is sweet. And Kyungsoo gasps as Chanyeol snakes his hands down to hold Kyungsoo by the small of his back.
“I’ll drive you home, okay?” Chanyeol says against Kyungsoo’s lips.
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo says, dazed and sort of in love. He feels like Chanyeol could get him to agree to anything in this state.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, and we can study,” Chanyeol says. “Sehun told me you guys have an essay on The Great Gatsby coming up.”
Kyungsoo groans. “Don’t talk to Sehun.”
“Why not?” Chanyeol needles. “We’re dating, aren’t we? I should know your best friend. And all your secrets.”
Kyungsoo smacks Chanyeol, and his dramatic cry rings out through the sleepy neighborhood. When Chanyeol walks Kyungsoo to his car, he holds his hand. For the first time in his seventeen years, Kyungsoo thinks that maybe this whole high school thing isn’t so bad.