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Renjun sighs into the wall of his locker, wishing it would swallow him whole. The world could end right then and there, zombie apocalypse and all, and he’d be happy. Thankful even.
Half an hour earlier, the school headmaster had called him to his office with news that would eventually leave him sweating. Sure, it wasn't any sort of threat, nothing that would harm his or his families' wellbeing, just the way they viewed their academically gifted son.
Instead of choosing football, he should’ve followed the drama route, and even though the theatre kids were as annoying as they come (Donghyuck as a prime example), nothing could be much worse than this. When Mr Wen had sat him down on one of his plush chairs, Coach Wang standing beside him without his signature grin, all the thoughts of praise he had brought with him dissolved into thin air, just like that.
“Renjun," the headteacher starts, placing his cup of coffee down with sigh, "as I’m sure you’ve seen on your reports, your grades have been slipping lately. So much so that it’s become a bit of a problem,”
He doesn’t tell Mr. Wen that the first thing he does when the anxiety-inducing, brown letter slips through his mailbox is stash it under his bed with the promises of never looking back. He’d even gone as far as resorting to telling his parents that they’re sent by email, and since they’re as old-fashioned as they are, they haven’t yet mastered the art of online messaging. He’s safe for now, or at least he was. The cruel reality finally setting itself in. It’s about time that karma finally strikes back.
“As much as it pains me to say this, I’ll have to put you on academic probation if your grades don’t pick up by the end of this term. You’re a bright kid so I believe you know this already, but just as a heads up, I thought I’d call this meeting,”
Renjun smiles weakly at him. Mr Wen was a nice teacher, one of the few that he really admired, but sometimes his care did more harm than good. Especially in this case anyway.
“I haven’t been able to reach your parents but I hope that you’ll find the time to relay this information to them too, as this determines how good your predicted grade for your GCSEs will be.”
Shit.
While Renjun thinks of the fastest way he can dig a hole to dive in to, preferably until he's years out of school, Mr Wang shoots him a reassuring smile, sliding over into the leather chair beside Renjun with practiced ease. It’s warm and full of fondness. “Don’t worry, you’ve got this okay? Just get one of your classmates to help you study and you’ll be fine."
Which wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that he didn't have many friends outside of the football circle, and a majority of them being complete meatheads at that. Cliques weren't a huge deal at the school but it was made painfully clear where you weren't wanted.
"-You’re one of the best players on our team, and with the youth tournaments around the corner, we really need all the help we can get,” the P.E teacher finishes, sending waves of guilt Renjun's way. With all the catching up he'd have to do, football practice would be limited, but it wasn't as if he was the only capable player there. He was a quick learner anyway, there was nothing to worry about.
The teachers of Middleton Secondary School were dubbed as the most laid back in town, Mr. Wang being the coolest of them all. It made school life generally easier, although there were still some kids who took their kindness for granted — resulting in week long detentions and enough scolding to last a lifetime.
Renjun considered himself as one of the better students, although his grades didn’t live up to everyone else's. And despite his lacking marks, he genuinely tried his best during each and every class, hand held high even when he didn’t have the slightest clue about the topic at hand. Call it ignorant, but it suited him just fine. The laughs of his peers could be off-putting at times, but he eventually got used to it. They only meant well.
The reason as to why his grades were plummeting was because of football practice after school. Since the summer tournaments were right around the corner, Coach Wang has announced practice drills, from when the last bells of school rang to six-thirty pm everyday. He didn’t blame his teacher of course, the older man was a competitive guy and he loved seeing the fruits of hard work. It was just that after he returned home, he was too exhausted to open the nearest textbook, opting for taking a nice long bath and calling it a day. He was lazy, and clearly, that was his downfall.
He leaves the office just before the final bell rings, students darting out of their classrooms left and right in a hurry to head home. He envies them, sort of. At this time he’d be heading towards the north wing where the M.U.G.A was, joining Jeno and Yangyang in kicking the footballs up the hill towards the red fencing that they called the entrance.
Coach Wang always likes to say that every minute spent on the pitch was an opportunity to learn something, especially the seconds where you’re lugging up silicone cones up chewing gum stained concrete, orangish glow reflecting off the plastic blinding you mercilessly. A small smile tugs at his lips and he heads down the corridor towards the main office, where tutor brochures were hung up like trophies on each and every wall.
The receptionist has been side-eyeing him from her post for minutes now, beady brown eyes narrowed disapprovingly. He doesn’t know what her prejudice against him is—he’s rarely late and even then he makes sure that he’s as polite as possible. He deals with it for now, having far bigger things to worry about. Like about how he needed to find a student willing to help with 95% of subjects with the summer break right around the corner.
Most of the posters donned advertisements for computer science, which was ironically his best subject. He looked over the board three times before stepping back into the middle of the corridor and stuffing his hands in his pockets, expression troubled.
Muttering a quick “sorry” to a lost looking first-year who he’d been in the way of, he bites his lip and racks his brain over his options. Either he finds an outside tutor or he loses football. Renjun has nothing against the teachers, but he’d rather study with someone his own age. Not that he’s in the position to be picky, of course.
Someone creeps up on him, curly blond hair immediately catching his eye. It takes him a second to realise that the mop of yellow belongs to the renowned student council president Mark Lee. Renjun’s only ever seen him from a distance, a majority of the time he’s preoccupied by this or that, student or teacher, but the rumours were true it seemed, he had some weird eyebrows.
The older boy looks at him apprehensively, posture somewhat tense. It kind of hurts Renjun’s back to look at, and he really wants him to stop. It takes Renjun a moment to realise that the boy had said something to him. He coughs embarrassingly.
“Sorry, what’d you say?”
Mark flushes and Renjun does his best not to stare, the sight sends him an odd sense of satisfaction that he doesn’t quite want to address just yet.
“I was asking if you wanted me to help you,” he turns his head to look back towards the bulletin board, “—with computer science, or any subject really. It’d be good for you and me, resumes and all,”
he adds quickly, “Plus, some of the younger kids want to make a magazine based on the most popular sports going around, especially football—” Renjun has a brief memory of the first years buzzing about something like that, but it’s a foggy memory, unclear to him. “—so just think about it, okay?”
This is the best option for him to improve his grades, so if he doesn’t accept, what kind of fool would he be?
“No need, I’d be more than happy to work with you,” Renjun smiles. “Although computer science is the least of my worries.”
The council president claps his hands sheepishly. “Oh yeah! I’ve seen your marks outside the ICT Suite. Pretty cool! I’m not really good with coding myself, the functions are a bit confusing to me.”
Renjun doubts that (the older boy is notoriously known for his high grades) but he humors the idea, watching as a duo of girls giggle as they pass them, faces tinted with pink. He can’t for the life of him understand why they’re laughing so hard, but pushes their noise to the back of his head as Mark throws him a hopeful grin. “If you’re not busy, you can come over to my house right now. My mum won’t be home till seven and my sister should go out with her friends.”
After a brief second of silence, Renjun agrees to the older boy’s offer and they return to their homeroom classes to grab their things. If he weren’t so focused on the cute laughs and shy smiles that the school president sent his way, he’d be questioning how much free time Mark really had — like wasn’t he supposed to be fretting over club allowances or something? Anyway, this opportunity allowed him to avoid his parents at all cost (at least until he returned, his father frowning at him in disappointment and his mother letting hell run loose). Sure, he was using Mark a tiny bit, but that’s where their agreement bloomed right? An eye for an eye, leg for a leg sort of thing.
Mark’s telling him about one of the goldfish he used to have as a child, brown eyes bright and enthusiastic. His heart skips a beat. He’s not one to shy away from dating, but he’s never been too keen on the idea either. Most of the time, he’s surrounded by friends and friends of friends who he’d never consider going out with. The very idea of kissing Jeno leaves a gross taste in his mouth. But, he thinks, as the two start walking up the gravel path leading up to Mark’s house, thinking about feeling the press of his school president’s lips against him isn’t entirely disgusting.
They step into the newly furnished hallway, old class photos hung up along the cream walls and the faint smell of incense hanging in the air like a calming veil. Renjun follows Mark's actions in toeing his shoes off and the two head upstairs, freezing at the high-pitched laughs coming from down the hall. It sounds vaguely familiar, the way the older boy's face shifts from one of surprise to disdain piquing his interest instantly.
"Nari! You said you were going out today!" He calls, shooting Renjun an apologetic look.
"Bohyun's dad came to pick her up for her gran's birthday so they had to cancel," her voice rings, shushing whoever she was speaking to playfully, "I won't be loud, promise! Besides, I know how much today means to you.” Her tone transforms into a teasing one and Mark groans, swatting her in embarrassment.
"Whatever, just don't cause too much ruckus — we're studying today."
He misses her '—and tomorrow? Who knows,' in his haste to go upstairs, Renjun barely stifling a laugh at the siblings' antics. The atmosphere is light and it sends bursts of energy through him, the wink Nari sends doing no help to his case.
Being an only child, this kind of playful banter wasn't something he was used to, apart from the mischievous behaviour from his football team of course. Their closeness was clear to him, and a part of him smiled at the thought.
Mark's room isn't far from what he had imagined, the decor simple in a way that wasn't harsh on the eyes, but pleasant enough to make you feel at ease. It reminded him of Mark, so much so that he had to tear his gaze away from the bashful blue curtains that he'd been thoughtlessly staring at for more than he'd like to admit. A light brown guitar catches his eye, its lightning yellow stand demanding his attention.
Without thinking, he blurts out, "You play?", successfully scaring the council president out of his right mind.
From where said boy is taking out an abundance of notepads, pens, and highlighters, he shifts over to him with a proud smile. "Yeah! I've been playing ever since I was younger, one of the things my mum made me do but I eventually got used to—" Renjun passes him the guitar, "—it, which is really kinda lucky because most of the kids that I used to know hated their lessons with a passion."
Before he knows it, hints of a smile begin to quirk his lips, seeing Mark so excited about something. Which is not to say that the older boy was particularly boring, no not at all, but it was really something different seeing his energy up close. Not for the first time, he understands why there is no shortage of students following around Mark Lee, he had the rare talent of pulling everyone into a state of utter immersion -- and as it turned out, Renjun was not immune to it.
That day, though they didn't get as much studying done as Mark would have liked (he apologises profusely at the door when it's time for Renjun to leave), it was time well spent in the younger boy's mind, so much so that he'd been reluctant to leave, only pressured by the missed calls from his parents convincing him to go on his way. He doesn't hear Nari's snickers from deep within the house, nor the exaggerated groan from Mark that followed, thoughts filled with the soft singing and gentle strums of an acoustic song he’s never heard of replaying in his head like a constant.
Later in the month, he’ll find out that it’s Frank Ocean’s Pilot Jones, the type of song that'll calm him down from the first chord played on a saffron guitar.
The minute he steps inside his house, immediately hit with the warmth of the radiators turned on fall blast. It's already summer, with June practically ending, and his parents are acting like it's winter. It doesn't seem like anyone’s in, a small post-it note taped to the fridge confirming that fact. 'Renjun, we're going out to collect a new vase for your mother's collection. We should be back by 6, but call us if you need anything. Love, Dad'
He has an hour before they're back, which would hopefully be enough time for him to prepare his thoughts for the talk that would, undoubtedly, disappoint them to the core.
Renjun heads up to his room with a plate of fruit, placing it on his desk and flopping on to his bed. Studying seems worlds away from him, but he doesn’t want today to be a waste on Mark's part. They'd covered the basics of trigonometry earlier on, something that he'd never seriously understood before the older boy had taken the time to explain it to him. Mark was definitely much better than any of his school teacher’s, he’d give him that.
By the time Renjun finishes with his revision, the sky has transitioned into a dark blue. It’s almost as if it was scripted, the jingling of the keys sounding as soon as he places his ballpoint pen down against his workbook. His parents’ voices echo throughout the house and he sighs. It sucks, but he has to break their happy bubble sooner or later.
His mother calls him downstairs, holding what looked like a miniature birdbath. “Jun, we just scored a great deal! Come down and take a look, I think it’d look great next to your aunt’s lilacs.”
Despite his better wishes, Renjun decides to push back the news for another day. It’s not like it’s harming anyone anyway. He heads downstairs where his father is packing away all kinds of plant pots, the smell of compost rich in the air. It’ll be fine.
“You and the school prez, huh?” Yangyang grins, with a look in his eyes that screams nothing but trouble. They're having their first break of the day, blazers thrown onto the nearest bench while they kick the ball around semi-seriously. It's hot, but that's never stopped them from having a match before. The sudden comment catches him off-guard and Jeno seizes the moment to steal the ball from him, shooting it into their goal with a clean kick.
Someone cheers in the distance, Jaemin probably, but he ignores it in favour of sending Yangyang the most clueless look he could muster.
"What are you talking about?"
The thing about Yangyang is that he likes to know whatever business Renjun has with, well, anyone, and that, paired together with almost admirable stubbornness, is bad news for him. He stopped lying to his friend ages ago because of this, the other sniffing out his white lies in the blink of an eye.
"You know, about how you and Mark are kind of dating now." The look in his eyes doesn't disappear, and if anything it seems to be fueled by Renjun's expression morphing into one of poorly concealed disdain. "It's all the first year’s are talking about, I just overheard them!"
While he doesn't doubt this (the Year 7s were as gossipy as they came), Renjun wants to sock Yangyang in the face for believing their rumours so easily — as well as for his loudness because the rest of the team are heading towards them now, no doubt in his mind that thousands of questions were about to be thrown his way.
He glares at Yangyang, who cheekily grins back, and sighs. There won't be much break to enjoy at the rate the questions were flying at him, the main instigators being none other than Jeno and Jaemin. They only release him once the bell goes, all of them going their separate ways because funnily enough, none of them were in the same form.
His friends are wonderful and he adores all of them deeply, but this seemed a bit too much for what was only word of mouth. Besides, he doesn’t even know if Mark swings that way, let alone if he even likes him.
As he walks to his next lesson, his phone vibrates in his blazer pocket and he swipes on the message that pops up, narrowly avoiding any Hall Monitors that were in his proximity. The school allowed phones, but only during exam time. And was it really his fault if Minhyuk was slacking on his duties as Class Rep?
yangyang: :P sorry about earlier, i'll make it up to u
He rolls his eyes before responding,
you: its fine :) i know u will
When he finally arrives at his classroom, teacher scribbling something on the board with the whiteboard marker making his ears wince, he slips into his chair and heaves his bag off, ready for the lengthy lesson ahead. Biology is good in small doses, he remembers Sicheng saying a few weeks back, but two hours worth is simply too much; especially with such a monotonous teacher. The guy beside him won't stop clicking his pen and it's about to drive Renjun mad.
He meets Mark at the school gates, the older boy glued to his phone with a troubled expression. "Everything okay?" Renjun asks, watching as Mark shoves his device into his blazer pocket with a look like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have.
"Yeah," Mark responds, albeit a little quickly. "It's not important, don't worry about it." narrowly avoiding a Year 9 who had almost shoved him. He doesn’t catch an apology but brushes it off.
Mark switches his phone off in a flash, shoving it into the inside of his blazer. He sends him a surprised grin, “Yeah! One of my friends is making a situation bigger than it needs to be but I’m alright, yeah.” The younger boy notices how exasperated he seems but decides not to push,
And with that final statement, they go on their way. He tries not to question it too much, whatever is going on in Mark's private life is none of his business, though it leaves traces of discomfort in him.
As they cross the road, veering to the side as an intoxicated couple sway their way around the zebra crossing, the older boy tries to ease the now-awkward atmosphere that engulfs them like smoke. Something in Renjun's heart flutters at the way Mark tries his hardest to make Renjun feel at ease, even though the younger boy thinks that the positions should be switched.
And maybe it's a little too quick, maybe Renjun has been affection-starved for so long that he's imagining things, but he swears that the two of them have something special. Platonic or not.
Nari isn't at the house today, leaving the two alone for a change. Personally Renjun didn't mind if the enigmatic girl was there or not, but it seems as though her brother relaxes a bit more at her lack of presence.
While Mark busies himself with getting snacks, Renjun decides to tour the front room, the family pictures and class photos making him laugh in poorly concealed amusement. The older boy has barely changed since his primary school days, the same endearing face staring up at him with a few gaps and messy hair. It's cute, though it doesn't compare to the sight of the present Mark pushing him away from the frames in embarrassment.
"No! Trust me, you don't wanna see those, they highlight the worst in me." He shoves a bowl of fruit into the younger's hands with his face pink, Renjun almost dropping it in surprise.
"You look exactly the same c'mon," the Chinese boy replies, tone teasing as he cranes his neck around flailing limbs. He manages to catch a reception-looking Mark in a postman outfit and he bursts out laughing. It's an utterly adorable sight, the much nicer side of him cooing inside.
Mark huffs but retracts his shielding arms from Renjun's tunnel of vision, face still flushed from his attempts at saving what little dignity he had left. "Whew, we should really start studying now, as much fun as this is."
It would be easy to carry on like this, with time flowing by silently, nothing but the echoes of their laughs and yells to accompany the silence, but he is only there for catching up on schoolwork. There would be time for fooling around later — at least, he hopes so.
After around thirty minutes of Mark quizzing Renjun over linear equation questions he'd found in his Mathematics book, they decide to take a quick break, the fruit long gone and replaced with two cans of KA. To the older boy's apparent dismay, there aren't any watermelon flavours of said brand, though they're cheap so the Lee family is always stocking up on it.
Renjun presses the cool can against his forehead and relishes the moment. It feels like he's known the other for years, at least longer than the three it was actually coming up to. He really doesn't know much about his senior now that he comes to think about it, nothing apart from the fact that he's Canadian-born, the head of the student body (a title that he was strangely mellow about), and that he had a younger sister named Nari.
"So, what's your favourite colour?"
Sure, it's simple, and albeit a bit random, but it pushes a pleased laugh out of the older boy and that's good enough for him.
The smell of damp mud fills his nostrils, the refereeing of Coach Wang accompanied by shouts of the Middleton Youth Team breaking the silence with ease. Practice never fails to get him focusing, the trail of the ball acting as a crutch for his thoughts. As competitive as football is, it's something that calms him down greatly, which is just what he needed after spending a night at Mark's house.
It wasn't as if anything happened, far from it actually. After he'd initiated the small talk conversation, they gradually left the maths topic once again, quickly drifting into the more personal bits. Ever since Renjun had left, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the way Mark seemed to hold himself, confident, but not in a way that was overbearing for other people to be around.
His genuine approach to helping anyone and everyone who needed it, the little grins he'd break out in when he thought no one was paying attention. Even the littlest quirks were enough to make Renjun's heart race, and he wasn't sure how he was going to cope with all the fluster he was feeling.
Maybe it's just because he hasn't properly liked someone in ages, but this crush felt different somehow. There was more than just baseless attraction, it was something special.
Jeno trips over a clump of grass in the corner of his eye, the others laughing at his fall while Renjun dribbles the muddy ball over to where the goal is, praying that his warm cheeks weren't visible. Junghoon sends him a weird look but says nothing, raising his gloved hands in an attempt to block the incoming ball flying his way.
It hits the net with a neat swoop, followed by Jeno playfully moaning about the ball that he let get away. Renjun pats his back in mock pity while Yangyang and Hyunsuk re-enact the fall with childlike glee. Their voices echo across the pitch, and it's only now that he realises that someone's been watching their game the entire time.
Leaning against the field gates, bag slung over shoulder and badges gleaming in the sun's reflection, Mark is grinning like he's just found some forbidden treasure. The feeling in Renjun's stomach returns, the warmth surrounding his body like wildfire, and he finally understands the meaning of yearning.
"Mark!" Jaemin laughs, calling over the older boy with a wave of his hand. "Get over here, did you see Jeno just now? I've never seen someone fall so weirdly, I wish I caught it on camera,"
"Right? His face was the best part though, confusion at it's finest," Mark snickers, reaching out a hand to ruffle Jeno's hair.
Coach Wang raises an eyebrow, "Don't be too hard on him now — I doubt any of you would look any better,"
He's met with the outraged 'Coach!' of his team, the loudest by far being Yangyang, who had been suspiciously quiet all throughout today's practice. If it weren't for the fact that Renjun had seen him cackling away with a few of the other people in their year, he'd be concerned. Even though he didn't like it, his whole silent act most likely meant that he was plotting something troublesome.
As soon as Coach Wang dismisses them, wishing them a good day, Yangyang practically sticks himself to Renjun. If his goal was to become conjoined, they certainly weren't far from it.
They'd changed out of their kit fairly quickly, meeting Mark out in the hallway before heading towards the school's entrance, faces exhausted but no less bright. Renjun was beginning to feel the irritation growing on him from the extra body warming him up, trying his hardest not to snap because it wasn't like him to get so cranky after practice.
He sums it up as the summer heat making him over-sensitive and trudges on, rounding the next corner with a small sigh.
Renjun glances over to his right where he sees Mark watching him in deep thought, an unreadable expression etched on his face. What the older boy was thinking, he could only guess, but it seemed as if he was a little conflicted about something.
The youngest of the trio finally retracts himself when they get to the bus stop, and it more than irks Renjun had he looks a little too pleased with himself about the whole ordeal.
"This is me I'm afraid." He pulls his oyster out of his blazer, the bus nowhere in sight. "We should do this more often!"
Renjun snorts at this, "I hope you enjoyed the social experiment because I feel really gross now
Mark laughs at Yangyang's theatrics, his expression finally lax, and the two of them continue their journey to Mark's house. It's quiet but Renjun doesn't mind, the two feel comfortable together and that's all that really matters.
The house is empty, much to Mark's clear relief, and they start their work without much hassle. It's peaceful, and he wishes he could stay for longer.
The two work in a calm silence, nothing but the sound of Renjun's pen scrawling away in his textbook, before Mark stops reading through his book, brows furrowed.
"What's up?" He tucks his pen behind his ear, leaning towards the other curiously.
"Not much, just..." Mark trails off, a bit hesitant, "Are you dating anyone right now?"
It's unexpected, and honestly leaves Renjun a bit blank. A tiny voice at the back of his mind tells him to question the older boy, just in case he'd gotten the wrong idea all along, but he ignores it.
"No, why?"
Mark swipes his tongue against his lips nervously. It's only after he swallows that he speaks again. "Because I've liked you for a while now, and I don't want to intrude on anything,"
Renjun can't tell if he's dreaming or not.
He'd never truly humoured the thought of the older boy carrying mutual feelings for him, he doesn't know how to act, or even what to say.
"I..." He starts, still disbelieving, "I like you too,"
Mark freezes at this, and Renjun can practically see the gears whirring in his head. Like every side of him, it's endearing, and the urge to wrap the other in his arms increases the longer he watches the other.
Without thinking, he swivels the desk chair around and pulls Mark into his embrace, face flushed and heart hammering against his chest erratically. Later on, he'll look back at this moment (although a bit reluctantly), and mentally scold himself at how embarrassing he was, but as for now, as he's inhaling the older boy's scent, it's an issue for the future him.
Dating Mark is no different from purely being friends with him, except from the soft kisses and even softer smiles that are exchanged. Sure, he's a little addicted to the sweet taste of his boyfriend, but that's nobody's business but his own.