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There was a stain on the ceiling of the detention room. The tiny red streak was barely noticeable really, but chenle had nothing better to do than stare up at the ceiling, his head thrown back over the top rail of his chair, as he watched the second hand of the clock tick past the twelfth hour mark for the fifteenth time in a row.
The professor had been gone for more than twenty minutes now, and chenle wondered, in the back of his mind, how long it took for someone to collect a correction pen from their bag.
He supposes the professor didn't really notice the bag that he himself pushed under his desk before walking out of the class, pocketing the phone that he’d been furiously typing on for the past 10 minutes.
Sighing, he averts his eyes back to the stain on the ceiling, irritation rising by the second, itching to reach out and rub the stain off the ceiling tile.
He glances back and forth between the clock and the office bag so obviously lying on the floor beside the teacher’s desk, before deciding that the professor wasn't going to come back anytime soon and he might as well get it over with instead of stewing in his discomfort for another half an hour.
He pushes himself off the chair, walking around the benches to peek out into the hallway through the small glass panel of the door. He pokes his head out to look around the corner for good measure, before deeming it safe for him to carry out his plans.
He makes his way back to his seat, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, staring contemplatively at the chair, wondering if it could bear the full brunt of his weight. He rolls his shoulders in thought — it would have to do for now.
He climbs up onto the chair, careful to balance his weight on the edges, wincing at the protestant creak it lets out. The stain, it seemed, was far more stubborn than chenle had anticipated it to be and chenle feels his irritation rise once again, as he furiously rubs at the ceiling, reaching up on his tiptoes.
What chenle didn’t notice, however, was that the creaking of the chair had gotten louder and more frequent with the increasing aggression of his movements, and so when the door bangs open all of a sudden, chenle jumps before realising belatedly that he was falling. Oh. the chair seemed to have broken a leg.
He groans, sprawled out on the ground at eye level with the foot of his desk, wincing at the ringing in the back of his skull.
He forces himself to lift his head up, scowling at the intruder, before processing just who was standing at the door.
He scrambles to upright himself, trying to save what little dignity he had left in front of the head prefect of their grade.
Park jisung looks unamused as always, regarding him with his trademark pursed lips and blank stare combo.
“I-I can explain..” chenle starts, voice sounding weak even to his own ears.
Jisung merely lifts an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest.
“...actually nevermind, you’re better off not knowing.” chenle pouts at the long suffering sigh jisung lets out, slumping against his desk, still sprawled out on the ground.
Jisung walks into the classroom, pushing himself off the door frame with an eyeroll. He looks down at chenle, who is now pouting at the floor, before a fond smile appears on his face.
He reaches a hand out and chenle brightens up considerably, holding on to it gratefully as jisung hauls him up.
“What was it this time?”
Chenle’s pout makes a comeback at the amused tone in jisung’s voice, before thwacking him on his shoulder.
Jisung doesn't even pretend to flinch. Chenle’s pout intensifies.
He silently points at the now smudged stain on the ceiling, rolling his eyes, anticipating the snort before it came.
Jisung looks away from the ceiling, eyeing chenle for a second before quietly reaching into his pocket to pull out a pack of wet wipes, crouching down without a single word.
Chenle looks at him like he’d lost his mind. He wasn't even the one who’d just taken a blow to the head.
Jisung rolls his eyes, yet again.
“Get on,” he prompts, ears turning suspiciously red the longer chenle stares at him. “I still have duties, let's get this over with quickly.”
Chenle blinks once, twice, before clambering onto jisung’s shoulder, secretly thankful that jisung can’t see his blush. He plucks out a wipe from the offered pack of wet wipes, gently clutching onto the strands of jisung’s hair to steady himself.
He rubs at the stain — marvelling at how he didn't even have to stretch his arm out as much as he did when he was tip toe-ing on the chair — and the stain easily gives away under the wipe.
Jisung’s hair is unbelievably soft under his fingertips and chenle almost doesn't want to tell him that he’s done with the stain, but, alas, jisung had his prefect duties, and chenle wouldn't want to keep him from them. Doesn't mean he wouldn't make use of the opportunity though.
“Im done.” he announces, flicking jisungs forehead, ruffling his hair up with a giggle when jisung attempts to glare at him.
Jisung crouches back down, pinching chenle’s thigh in retaliation, snickering when chenle gets off quickly with a yelp.
“How long until you’re off?” jisung asks, glancing back at the clock as chenle pokes at the splintered leg of the chair.
“I dont know, thirty minutes or so?” chenle replies, now inspecting the chair that was lying on the floor sadly, balanced on its three legs.
He looks up, raising a brow at jisung who’s now staring somewhere behind his head. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh its nothing really,” jisung darts his eyes, hands coming together to fiddle with his fingers. “I’ll probably get my work done by then too, so uh,” his eyes find chenle’s again, darting back away at the sight of the smirk slowly forming on chenle’s face.
“So what sungie?” chenle asks, moving to seat himself on the desk opposite to the one jisung was leaning on, his voice taking on that nasally pitch that he used when he wanted to annoy jisung specifically.
Jisung rolls his eyes at the dopey grin on chenle’s face.
“So nothing. I just had an extra ticket for the week-long carnival, and I thought I’d ask if you wanted to go with me, but I think I might reconsider seeing as you’d much rather spend your day caught up in your silly shenanigans.”
Chenle didnt bother pointing out the huffy tone of jisung’s voice; he would deny it anyways.
“Of course i’d love to go with you.” he says instead, placing his chin on top of his folded hands, grin melting into a soft smile.
Jisung’s cheeks grow pinker when he looks back at chenle and chenle’s smile widens.
Jisung smiles back, “Okay.”
“Okay.”
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