Chapter Text
Hyunsuk’s quick to check his phone before anyone notices.
It lights up with a blinding glare and he rushes to turn the brightness down before the teacher becomes suspicious. A cautious glance around the classroom reveals an ever-observant Jihoon looking straight at him with an eyebrow raised; it’s not wise to pull your phone out in the middle of class when the school has a zero tolerance policy during hours. Hyunsuk just waves him off.
While Hyunsuk certainly isn’t the poster child for a model student (he gets sent home due to his ever changing hair colour about every three to five business days), he’s still not a fan of using his phone during class, especially since he’s had it taken from him too many times to count at this point. He winces as he remembers them warning him that the next time he’s caught, they’d take it for a month.
monday 21 november, 08:34 am, his phone reads. He pockets it and sighs softly; Yedam’s late again.
Considering the fact that the junior’s homeroom is only a couple doors down from theirs, Hyunsuk definitely should have seen him pass by now. He wouldn’t spare the situation any further thought under typical circumstances, but it is growing difficult to ignore the realisation that he has not seen Yedam earlier than first period for the past week.
Strangely, Doyoung hasn’t passed by either. He’s rarely ever late, seeing as basketball practice normally requires him to leave hours before the day even properly starts. An educated guess lets Hyunsuk assume that Doyoung probably won't be turning up today - the junior's always either early or not in at all, no in between.
Jihoon must also realise the same thing upon seeing Hyunsuk’s expression, and he furrows his eyebrows in mild confusion. ‘Yedam-ah? Again?’, he mouths, making an obvious show of looking at the clock. Hyunsuk has nothing to offer but a hopeless shrug, and Jihoon eventually turns back towards his group of friends in the front row.
Jihoon’s always been popular. He’s got that kind of commanding personality that instantly draws people towards him and if he’s not spending time with Hyunsuk, he’s got about a thousand other friends to rely on. Though Hyunsuk has his own fairly large group of friends, he prefers a much quieter environment when compared to Jihoon. It’s just hard to constantly entertain other people the way Jihoon does. Exactly how he’s doing right now; if the way the front row’s laughs reverberate loudly across the classroom at one of his jokes means anything.
Bored, Hyunsuk settles for watching students file into the classroom, some of them accompanied by friends from other classes. They still have a few minutes before homeroom officially starts, so most teachers aren’t too strict on exactly who’s where just yet. As time ticks onward, the amount of students tumbling in gradually decreases to a slow trickle until the shrill bell finally goes, signalling the start of the day.
By this time, all of the kids from other classes have left. Meanwhile, Hyunsuk’s still waiting for Yoshinori, his desk partner and one of his closest friends, to arrive. If anything, Yoshinori is usually one of the first people to walk into class, but Hyunsuk supposes that nothing less can really be expected from the guy who’s busy scoring straight As in a grade where everyone else is drowning in senioritis.
Today, however, Yoshinori seems to be running late — well, at least for him — which is terribly unlike his character. So far, he hasn’t texted to say he’s unwell either, so Hyunsuk knows he should be coming in. With an unconscious pout, Hyunsuk wonders what must have happened.
Barely another minute passes and Yoshinori is bursting into class, slightly disheveled and appearing very stressed, albeit poorly concealed. His hair looks like he’s run his hair through it about a hundred times, either in stress or an attempt to tame it, or maybe even both. His eyes are darting around the room but he looks tired, exhausted. As he's explaining himself to their teacher, Hyunsuk desperately tries to catch his eye, in a discreet attempt to check if everything’s alright.
His efforts are in vain, since Yoshinori chooses to pointedly avoid Hyunsuk’s line of sight until he takes his seat next to him. Hyunsuk looks over at his friend, eyebrow raised.
“Is everything okay?”
Yoshinori sighs and instantly looks way older than a typical high school senior; even more so than normal. His eyebrows knit together as he responds, and his eyes are laced with exhaustion.
“It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Cautious, Hyunsuk presses. “You don’t look fine.”
“I’m just stressed.”
It’s plausible, Hyunsuk thinks. Exams are steadily approaching and experience has taught him that Yoshinori is incredibly susceptible to any sort of unnecessary panic, so it wouldn't be totally outrageous to assume that his friend is telling the truth.
If that truly were the case however, Hyunsuk’s gut wouldn’t be so uneasy with the conclusion his friend has given him. The combination of his disheveled appearance, unkempt hair and uncharacteristic tardiness certainly doesn’t do much to help his case, but Hyunsuk sees the defeat on Yoshinori’s face and decides not to push. To soothe his own nerves, Hyunsuk ends up taking it upon himself to chalk it down to a difficult morning or a more probable argument with his little sister, who Hyunsuk knows he’s never got along with.
Their teacher finally begins homeroom and the rambucous chatter in the room gradually dies down to almost silence, save for their teacher’s loud voice marking registration.
Hyunsuk calls after his name then allows himself to become lost in meaningless thought. He performs a mental checklist of his upcoming assignments and absentmindedly wonders if he’s brought enough money to buy the expensive cup ramen from the convenience store with Junkyu after school today, when Yoshinori nudges his shoulder.
“What are we doing later?”
“Hmm?” Hyunsuk hums, lazily.
“In club?” Yoshinori’s tone is now clear, airy, nothing like the tense one he’d walked in with. Hyunsuk’s glad he’s feeling better.
Hyunsuk taps his chin thoughtfully, trying to recall what he’d discussed with Jihoon the night before. As the leaders of the school’s official music club, it’s their responsibility to plan group practices and activities, which they normally do late in the evening over the phone after completing their homework together.
“I was thinking about going over what we did last week and then letting everyone do their own shit today. Kinda like individual practice.”
Yoshinori makes a funny ‘o’ shape with his mouth and nods in understanding, agreeing with Hyunsuk’s idea. His eyes then widen as he remembers something, beginning to excitedly tell Hyunsuk about a new rapping technique he’d come across a few days ago and is currently trying to perfect. Unfortunately, they don’t get to converse for very long before class actually starts and their teacher hisses at them to stop talking.
Hyunsuk laughs as Yoshinori flushes down to his neck and positively sticks his head into his book.
It’s always funny watching good kids getting scolded, Hyunsuk thinks, especially when they’re one of your best friends.
After class, Hyunsuk’s caught up with his homeroom teacher so Jihoon leaves before him, instead of waiting so they can walk to class together like normal.
By the time he’s finally granted permission to leave, Jihoon is walking miles ahead, obscured by a sea of students. Pushing past, Hyunsuk attempts to catch up with his best friend, successfully managing to grab his arm and startle him into a halt. Hyunsuk laughs at Jihoon’s comical expression and slots his arm through his so that they’re linking.
Like any other day at school, the overall atmosphere is pleasant and Jihoon always tends to make his days better, but Hyunsuk can’t fully relax in the routine. Something’s been bugging him since the school day started.
“Yedam’s been late every day this week.”
Any other set of circumstances, and Hyunsuk probably wouldn’t have noticed - especially since Yedam's in the grade below. In the unlikely scenario that he did manage to pick up on it, he still probably wouldn’t be very concerned. It’s normal for high schoolers to fuck up their priorities every now and then (such as those priorities specific to getting to school in time, freshman Hyunsuk would definitely know), or to fall in a minor downward spiral; it simply comes with the territory.
This is different though, and it’s pretty obvious. It seems like with every day that passes, Yedam’s an extra thirty minutes late. When he does eventully waltz in, he looks drained and visibly exhausted for at least the first half of the day, before eventually lightening up as he spends time with his friends. Hyunsuk wonders if it really is just exam season getting to everyone.
“Yeah.” Jihoon says thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’d tell us if he wasn’t.”
Typical of Jihoon, to assume the best before the worst. It’s Hyunsuk’s job to constantly worry about their friends, sometimes to the point where he loses sleep.
It makes sense; Jihoon’s loud, confident and a person who has no qualms with talking about his own problems if he thinks he can’t handle them, so therefore assumes it’s a given for people to share theirs. It’s almost like he can’t understand why people wouldn’t want to get their issues off of their chest. On the other hand, he also thinks he’s more open than he truly is. He trusts people to go to him first with little prompting. It’s a trait that’s both a blessing and a curse.
In this case, Hyunsuk isn’t quite sure what it is. Maybe Yedam just needs space. Maybe he’s fine.
Hyunsuk subconsciously bites at the inside of his lower lip, stressing the skin. “I’m just kinda worried about him.”
Jihoon pulls Hyunsuk closer by the elbow and wraps a strong arm around his shoulders in a comforting gesture, the height difference creating the perfect angle for his best friend to lean on him. Smiling a genuine grin, Jihoon says, “You worry too much, he’s a good kid.”
As per usual, Jihoon’s words are reassuring and his touch is heart fluttering, but quietly, Hyunsuk wonders just how much that statement is relevant or even true in the first place.
He knows Yedam is a good kid, one that makes his parents proud; he’s sociable, talented and certainly makes the grades, but Hyunsuk’s beginning to wonder if that definition is strictly confined to his good grades and managing appearances. He wonders if it goes deeper. If the fact that he barely smiles anymore counts. If the fact that he’s reportedly falling asleep in the middle of class matters.
Now that he’s entertained the thought, it won’t leave him alone. Something isn’t right with Yedam, he’s sure of it. Why can’t anybody else see it?
The cafeteria is surprisingly one of the few places in their entire school where there’s significant order.
By an unspoken but widely understood rule, every table in the hall is bound to a specific clique and it’s a formula that is rarely bent. Regardless of social status, it’s unwise to sit at another group’s table and everybody vaguely knows the layout of the seating plan; there’s more order and balance than there is in most classrooms. Honestly, the cafeteria is a rare area in their war zone of a high school where Hyunsuk feels as if all of the students in their school are truly in cohesive harmony.
Hyunsuk himself spends most of his lunches sitting at his usual table in the far right corner of the cafeteria with his small group of friends, consisting of Yoshinori, Jihoon and Junkyu. They’ve known each other since middle school and have shared almost every class for just as long, so their bond is pretty legitimate.
They also sit with Mark and Elkie: the transfer students, and finally Chaeyeon, the dance team captain. The table to the right of them houses a group of quiet kids of whom Hyunsuk shares only a few classes with, while the table to their left is occupied by a loud group of juniors.
Currently, they’re animatedly discussing some show Jihoon and Elkie have been bothering them about for the better part of the past two weeks, sans Junkyu because he’s off somewhere with his other friends today. Unfortunately, it’s show that literally everyone else at the table wishes they'd never even heard of, it's that bad. Even Mark manages to sign his his distate with a thumbs down all the way from the lunch queue, to the pair’s comical disapproval.
Hyunsuk’s been friends with this group for the better part of four years. They’ve known each other so long that they all vividly remember when Elkie first moved to their area and could barely speak any Korean, save for a few choppy greetings and awkward formalities.
Junkyu had endearingly tried his best to teach her the Korean language but he goes through daily challenges with the language himself even though he’s spent the past eighteen years of his life in South Korea, so it’s safe to say that most of the questions went to Hyunsuk, Jihoon and Yoshinori. Elkie was the only one they really had to integrate into their culture, seeing as Yoshinori first moved to Korea when he was just three years old and Mark had grown up intertwined with Korean culture even in Canada, so they’re pretty much natives.
Jihoon, Hyunsuk and Junkyu however have a slightly deeper, more extensive history. The three of them grew up together, seeing as their mom’s - best friends - all coincidentally fell pregnant in the same year.
It’s situations like that which send Hyunsuk into miniature existential crises. He wonders if there truly is an element of fate that brought them together through their moms’ magically timed pregnancies or if it really is just random fortune.
Whether people’s cards are dealt differently from the moment they’re born due to shit luck, or a higher power that they have no control over. Whether people like Yedam truly deserve whatever they’re going through. The train of thought reminds him of his English teacher droning on and on about the themes of fate within Romeo and Juliet. Hyunsuk shudders; he fucking hates that play.
He thinks he hears Chaeyeon ask him something and then he’s blinking to find the entire group staring at him expectantly. Hyunsuk flushes at being caught zoning out while his friends just laugh at his struggle to rejoin the buzzing conversation. For all of his efforts, there ends up being no point as the cafeteria is rendered completely silent a moment later by a few teachers loudly bursting through the doors.
They quickly announce that they’re looking for a bunch of juniors who’d apparently set one of the trashcans behind school on fire. Hyunsuk thinks he hears So Junghwan’s name floating around in the spring of murmurs across the hall, who coincidentally happens to be a sophomore and also the youngest member of their music club.
Hyunsuk fights the urge to sigh in exasperation. He hopes Junghwan’s not getting dragged into trouble again, because the last time there was an incident with his friend group, he had to forfeit club meetings for a month as punishment and Hyunsuk’s never seen that kid look so dejected in his life. Sure, Junghwan is mild mannered and a bit of a pushover, but he’s a true sweetheart at his core. Unfortunately, he’s made the entirely wrong group of friends.
Hyunsuk thinks that’s why it’s so easy for them to pressure him into doing the wrong thing; because he’s such a pleaser. He doesn’t like to see people upset, and it just culminates towards his fear of going against the crowd, even when it really matters. And the crowd certainly love him, that’s for sure.
Junghwan is certainly popular, but for the entirely wrong reasons. He’s attractive amongst the younger kids the way delinquents typically can be in high school, and he’s a glinting prospect to the older kids as a gateway into finding a young, innocent scapegoat. By association, Junghwan’s name is beginning to gain negative traction amongst the teachers and rumours are beginning to follow him through the halls. It pulls at Hyunsuk’s heart because he knows that the freshman is truly a good, kindhearted kid, regardless of his questionable choices of company.
Hyunsuk can only hope Junghwan’s group of friends don’t drag his soul down with them.
It’s just after lunch when Yedam finally walks into school, his best friend Doyoung right by his side. Hyunsuk barely manages to spot the pair weaving through the chaos of people trying to get to lesson on time, with Yedam’s eyes glued to the floor and his hands stuffed in the pockets of the hoodie that he’s wearing on top of his blazer. Hyunsuk can just barely make out the deep circles set under his eyes when they briefly pass each other in the hallway.
Doyoung is chattering in his ear but it seems like Yedam is miles away, barely even responding to a word his friend utters. Instead of anger or frustration, Hyunsuk can see the concerned fold in Doyoung’s eyebrows and the way his eyes glint with knowing and worry. Yedam clearly isn’t listening to a word coming out of his friend’s mouth, yet Doyoung doesn’t even try to prompt his best friend into paying more attention or giving more thoughtful responses.
Frowning, Hyunsuk watches them pass. It’s unlike Doyoung - a diligent athlete and a competent student - to skip class, never mind stroll into school at midday. Hyunsuk wonders just what must have happened. Their timely arrivals can’t be a coincidence, considering the fact that they spend every waking moment attached at the hip. Hyunsuk wonders if Doyoung sacrificed practice for Yedam. While he tends to fall oblivious to his own actions, Doyoung has never once failed to put his best friend before himself. He’d probably drop out of school if it meant something to Yedam.
Hyunsuk often finds himself wondering if he’s loyal or just fucking crazy.
Jihoon pulls him out of his delving thoughts with a sudden exclamation that leads into some funny story that he’d forgotten to tell Hyunsuk over the weekend. He probably hadn’t spotted the pair amongst the crowd like Hyunsuk had, otherwise his tone wouldn’t be so bright and loud. It’s refreshing.
Sometimes, Hyunsuk tries to imagine what his life would be like had he never met Jihoon. It’s difficult because he’d have to rewrite the vast majority of it, since they’re childhood friends and most of Hyunsuk’s lifelong memories involve Jihoon somehow.
It probably isn’t a good thing that Hyunsuk doesn’t remember the last time he did anything completely alone since meeting Jihoon — it reminds him of the mini lecture they’d received from a professor from the local university during psych class, stressing the importance of building a sole identity after high school because the school thought it was an especially important lesson for their generation.
Codependence leads to lonely failure, the man had said.
During the lecture, Hyunsuk remembers guiltily thinking of Junkyu and his other best friend, Mashiho.
The three of them - Junkyu, Jihoon and Hyunsuk - tend to hang out as a trio seeing as they share a lot of the same classes and interests, but strangely, they’re never together as a four. It’s mainly because Mashiho is in the grade below but Hyunsuk also gets the inexplicable sense that his relationship with Junkyu is too private to be shared between a group. They’re best friends, but even the way they behave in club rehearsals makes it clear that they have a dynamic only they can understand.
Maybe that’s what he and Jihoon look like to everyone else, Hyunsuk thinks quietly.
Huh.
The rest of the school day passes pretty averagely — a blanket term, given that he is trapped in high school of all places. Still, Hyunsuk spends the entirety of his last few periods with his mind wandering back to Yedam and his worrying recent appearances. Currently, he’s in algebra and about to receive the results of a recent exam.
It had been a relatively easy test so Hyunsuk’s not exactly dying to learn his score, more concerned with figuring out the recent enigma that has become Bang Yedam.
Yedam hasn’t been to school on time once this week and today, he’d managed to take Doyoung with him. It’s completely unlike Yedam, a model student and instant prodigy in almost everything he tries his hand at. He thinks back to earlier today and remembers the lifeless slump in his underclassman’s shoulders and the drag in his stride.
It’s not like Yedam’s known throughout school for being lively and sociable the same way someone like Park Jeongwoo is, but Hyunsuk could probably count their in-depth interactions over the course of the past week on one hand, which is understandably concerning seeing as they spend hours with each other every day after school.
Unannounced, his math teacher places his algebra test in front of him, effectively halting that derailing train of thought. He glances at the score marked in obnoxious red ink and sees that he’d done exactly as he expected, the numbers reading an above average mark. He’s not exceptionally skilled in any area of math, but he’s generally bright enough to be able to rely on his common sense and couple extra hours of studying to get by.
Two seats in front of him, Jihoon and Junkyu are predictably arguing loudly over their test results and over who’s the smartest between the two of them in each subject - including ones they don’t even take anymore; Jihoon’s just that competitive. Junkyu whines over Jihoon’s loud voice until they get scolded by the teacher, who threatens them both with detention. This sequence of events unfolds every time they get any test back, by now, their classes are used to it.
The lesson continues. Hyunsuk listens and makes some notes when the teacher goes over a few of the questions he struggled with, then proceeds to tune out the monotonous drone of his voice. Judging that there’s nothing else in the lesson really worth paying attention to, Hyunsuk lays with his head against the table, cushioned by his arms.
If he falls asleep, no one has to know.
Physics is Hyunsuk’s final class of the day and coincidentally, also his least favourite.
By way of a miracle, he only ends up spending a grand total of fifteen minutes in his hour long class because a knock comes on the door, interrupting the lesson. He’s then promptly called out of class by a short lady who probably works in administration. Hyunsuk sighs as he stands from his seat, numerous eyes following him as he leaves. He knows exactly why he’s being dragged out and he’s sure the rest of his physics class probably knows too. It’s pretty obvious, after all.
Just before he gets out of the door, he makes brief eye contact with Jihoon, who’s clearly laughing at his struggles. Hyunsuk discreetly gives him the finger.
He sits down heavily in the chair opposite the lady in charge of the uniform policy, who stares at him, eyebrows raised in an expectant expression. She’s not really mad, Hyunsuk can tell. He’s grown to know her quite well over the past few months, due to his increasing visits to this office.
“It’s nice to see you again, Hyunsuk. I assume you know why you’re here.” She says, already logging his visit in the system, and Hyunsuk smiles sheepishly.
The lady in charge of the uniform policy is a nice woman and she’s always as lenient as possible when Hyunsuk shows up, even though he definitely doubles her workload on any given day.
Honestly, Hyunsuk’s surprised he managed to last this long through the day without receiving a single complaint. While his hair isn’t the wildest colour it’s ever been during a school term, the navy still definitely violates the dress code.
At the cost of another negative logged in the system and a probable scolding from his mother, Hyunsuk gets to miss the rest of physics while they decide what to do with him. He stares at the ceiling, spinning around in the rolling chair in boredom as he waits for her to get off the phone with her colleague.
“It has to be black by next Monday.” She states once she ends the phone call, tone firm and eyes unwavering.
Hyunsuk must make some kind of disgruntled expression, because she rolls her eyes and sighs before she’s speaking again, “Brown, at least.”
Hyunsuk acts as if he’s carefully thinking over his options, before finally conceding. “I guess I can work with that.”
She shakes her head in defeat, exhaling in exasperation. “I don’t know how you aren’t bald yet, child.”
Ten minutes later, he’s finally granted permission to leave the office and he quickly gathers his things to leave in order to make it to club in time. He’s got a hand on the door handle before a thought springs into his mind and he’s suddenly turning around. The teacher lifts her head up in questioning, readjusting her glasses.
“Wait, exactly how light can I go?”
Hyunsuk barely gets through the door in time to miss the rogue newspaper that’s flung in his direction.
Hyunsuk is exhausted by the time he walks into the club room.
In actuality, it’s not so much of a club room and rather an old unused classroom that they’ve managed to convert into the music club room after begging for permission from the staff for weeks. Nevertheless, every time Hyunsuk walks in, his chest fills with fluttering pride from the very moment he spots the ’treasure music club’ sign that Yoshinori drew adorning the front door, along with the characteristic doodles the other members have stuck on it.
He opens the door to chaos, as per usual. Haruto and Yedam are sitting at a desk, presumably sorting through some chords if Hyunsuk reads the sheet in front of them correctly, Jeongwoo’s belting into a microphone at the top of his voice while everyone simply ignores and works around him, and the rest are scattered around the room, sitting on chairs and speakers, conversing lightly.
Hyunsuk’s about to shut the door behind him when Jihoon finally appears in the hallway, surprising him. Jihoon holds a finger to his lips as he walks up to the room, creeping up to a peaceful Junkyu who’s minding his own business and writing in some kind of notebook. Hyunsuk complies with Jihoon’s request and watches them with amusement tracing his features. Once he gets close enough, Jihoon runs up and grabs Junkyu’s shoulders suddenly, effectively startling him along with everyone else in the room.
The uproar is instant and Junkyu begins whining at both Jihoon and Hyunsuk, while everyone else complains at the pair for being so loud. Hypocritical, in Hyunsuk’s opinion, since Jeongwoo was screaming at the top of his lungs just a second ago.
He’s suddenly tugged away from the noise by a tug on his sleeve and he turns to find Jaehyuk holding his phone outstretched, trying to show Hyunsuk something. His perfect features are moulded into an intent expression.
There are some people who you look at for the first time and things just click.
For example, Jaehyuk’s just insanely attractive. It’s an undeniable fact which explains a lot about the way in which his life unfolds, way more than a face probably should.
His appearance provides reason for his popularity, and it doesn’t take much to figure out how he’s achieved his small time social media fame. It probably wasn’t hard, considering most regular high school students don’t look like that, and Hyunsuk’s sure Jaehyuk is aware of his own irresistibility. He literally makes money off of his charm, so that’s telling in itself. It makes sense; he’s charming in that way popular people tend to be and he has an air that draws people in because he knows exactly what to say and when to say it. His laugh, smile and words are perfectly airbrushed with likeability; Hyunsuk doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jaehyuk lose his temper, now that he thinks about it.
He’s also a great fucking singer, which adds the cherry on top of the good looks. It’s no wonder people flock to him like blind moths to a light source. He’s the literal embodiment of a full package.
“I want you to hear this, hyung.”
Hyunsuk presses play on the audio file he’s presented with when Jaehyuk hands him his phone, and the latter’s husky voice immediately flows out of the speakers.
Subconsciously, Hyunsuk’s eyes stray towards the top of the phone, where a banner indicates eight hundred unopened messages and as usual, Jaehyuk’s phone buzzes like crazy until he eventually decides to turn his notifications off. A very long time ago, the influx of notifications used to surprise Hyunsuk every time, but at this point, he barely even blinks.
As is probably obvious at this point, the music club isn’t a cohesive group of people at all. Instead, it consists of very different people who tend to hang out in very separate groups. Somehow, they share the common passion that is music, despite their differing circumstances and personalities. When he’d first conjured up the idea to start this venture over the phone with Jihoon at three in the morning, Hyunsuk certainly didn’t expect to be where he is now.
They’re currently locked at twelve members since there are only two leaders to regulate club events, and frankly because they can’t really afford to recruit any more people with the pathetic budget they receive from the school. They look up to him, Jihoon often tells him. That they value his advice and input, that he’s more than a leader, he’s a friend.
The audio clip comes to an end and Hyunsuk sings his praises; Jaehyuk exceeds his expectations every time. He's covered some alternative pop song which complimented his voice perfectly, leaving Hyunsuk with very few critiques. After he lists his commentary, he’s about to direct Jaehyuk to Yedam or Jihoon, who are actual singers, but before he gets a chance, Jihoon is suddenly clapping loudly and signalling for the group to gather around, officially starting practice.
Like clockwork, everyone moves to take a seat to practise their most recent song; orange.
It had originated a few months ago when Asahi had randomly sent the demo file that he’d been working on to Yoshinori and Hyunsuk, who’d immediately taken a liking to it. The pair, along with Haruto and Junghwan, had bagged writing privileges for the song, and eventually, after a couple all nighters and discreet scribbling during classes, orange was born. They haven’t officially recorded it as a group yet because they still need to work on a few minor details, but for Hyunsuk, this is the best part of the process.
Nothing beats their karaoke sessions; sitting with his friends and singing to their own songs into cheap microphones. Hyunsuk will never get used to the sheer talent they have amassed in this room. They finish their first run and Asahi tweaks a few lines and intonations before they’re going again and again.
Every time Hyunsuk sits in this room, the pride is overwhelming. At least a couple of them are really going places, Hyunsuk can feel it.
Quite simply because he doesn't feel like spending a small fortune on the expensive noodles anymore, Hyunsuk ends up not going for ramen with Junkyu. His friend had whined pitifully before eventually deciding that maybe he doesn’t want to empty his wallet either, leaving Hyunsuk to walk home with Jihoon instead, as usual.
It’s coming to the beginning of winter so it’s cold and slightly wet, the wind tousling their hair and raising goosebumps on their faces.
According to Jihoon, this is the best time of year. He likes it when it’s just cold enough for his breath to come out as a wispy vapour when exhales, but not cold enough to bite at the skin under his scarf. He likes having to huddle closer for warmth, and he likes the way the sun begins to set around the time they leave school. Hyunsuk doesn’t really understand; he much prefers it when the leaves change from greens into oranges and reds, when it’s the perfect kind of weather to go sit in a cafe to warm up every morning.
Today, though, he has to admit that it’s nice. All of the metal poles and fences have a sheen layer of frost encasing them, and the grass is glistening a pretty white under the grip of the cold. Hyunsuk says so, and Jihoon grins widely.
Looking around for an escape, Hyunsuk quickly diverts the subject before Jihoon can start gloating about how winter truly is the best season.
“Are you looking after the kids today?” He asks instead.
Jihoon rarely ever sees his parents. From what Hyunsuk knows, their jobs require them to work abroad a lot of the time, leaving Jihoon in charge of his two younger siblings, Hyejin and Woojin; six year old fraternal twins. It’s a lot of parental responsibility for a high school senior, but Jihoon manages somehow. Occasionally, Doyoung will come and help him out because they’re all cousins. Today, it doesn’t seem to be the case.
“Yeah.” Predictably, Jihoon looks tired. “They’re working tonight.”
Like every night, Hyunsuk thinks.
“Do you want me to come over?” Hyunsuk offers.
Jihoon just waves him off, kicking a pebble on the road. “Nah, it’s fine. You’ve got shit to do.”
Hyunsuk’s eyebrow raises and he turns to look at his best friend. “Are you sure? I can play with them for a bit while you cook. Keep them distracted.”
Hyunsuk truly wouldn’t mind; he loves those kids. They’re cute and energetic in the same way Jihoon was when they were younger and if it means Jihoon gets an extra hour of sleep, he’s down. Jihoon, however, is not down.
“It’s cool. We’re eating leftovers from yesterday anyways. I can’t be bothered to cook tonight.”
Before Hyunsuk can even think about objecting, Jihoon is sneaking his hand into Hyunsuk’s and effectively rendering every possible thought useless save for Jihoon, Jihoon, Jihoon.
Instead, Hyunsuk decides to focus his gaze on the road in front of him. The path home is one they’ve walked since they were kids and one they’ve seen grow, change and evolve countless times since then. Hyunsuk remembers when the playground across the street used to be a simple collection of trees they used to climb on their way home from school and call their hideout.
Some things haven’t changed at all; like the crack in the pavement by the crossing that Hyunsuk still manages to trip over at least five times a week. Other things aren’t new either, like the way Jihoon always instinctively walks on the side closer to the road, a habit drilled into him by the lifestyle of looking after two reckless children for years.
(The warmth of Jihoon’s palm against his is also difficult not to recognise.)
Hyunsuk has always thought that he won the parent lottery. They provide a roof over his head, clothe him and feed him. Moreover, they’re supportive and rarely ever lose their tempers with him. Hyunsuk doesn’t even think he‘s ever seen his mild mannered mother angered past the point of a good scolding.
While they don’t really understand a lot of the things he believes in, and sometimes chalk his very real emotions down to a ‘teenage rebellion phase’ because oftentimes the generational gap is too large to overcome, his parents tick off every other box.
They’re the typical single child family, and Hyunsuk’s grateful. He’s never been deprived of anything and his parents are always there to share his successes, but he knows it’s not like that for everyone. At school, stories of kids being removed from their homes spread like wild fire.
About a year ago, one of their classmates was even called to the principal’s office in broad daylight after rumours rose of sightings of suspicious marks hidden under her collar. Initial concerns had risen after she told one of her friends that that her mother used to leave her without food if she got anything under an A, in order to push her to work harder.
Hyunsuk shivers at the thought. He doesn’t understand how someone could strive to hurt their own child. It’s sick.
Thankfully, he’s not given much time to dwell on it as his phone suddenly buzzes with an incoming facetime call. He already knows who’s calling without glancing at the screen.
Junkyu & 1 other is calling
Hyunsuk swipes across the screen and Jihoon and Junkyu immediately appear. While both of their setups look as if they should be completing homework or studying, predictably, they’re engrossed in conversation. Hyunsuk can hear the tv playing some kids show from Jihoon’s side, and assumes that’s what he’s occupied the twins with.
Hyunsuk then leans his phone against the wall and his desk so they can see him, and proceeds to pull out his books so he can provide the motivation they clearly called him for.
The three of them talk about about school and other random topics, but it doesn’t take long for them to settle into their routine and complete their homework together.
Homework is dreadful. There are so many things he’d rather be doing right now, but after a history of getting into trouble and failing exams, Hyunsuk’s learnt to accept the routine as it comes. The productive atmosphere lasts long enough for Hyunsuk to thankfully be able complete all of his necessary assignments, but Jihoon is then speaking after about an hour, and not to ask a biology related query.
“Are Mashiho and Jeongwoo still working on that duet?”
The pair have been hiding away for a few weeks, apparently working on some rnb duet their honey voices would definitely mould to perfectly. They’ve never gone wrong with that style of music. Recently, Hyunsuk hasn’t seen them openly working on it.
Junkyu then puts his pen down with an air that tells Hyunsuk that he probably to have the answers. “Mashiho told me they’re putting it on hold right now to focus on Orange and the performance.”
Hyunsuk hums. Aside from their usual small performances, the school had booked them to perform for the younger kids as motivation to join an extracurricular activity, and that ended up spiralling into a whole school performance, in which they’ve decided to sing Orange. Understandably, the group are mildy stressed over the prospect since they’ve never performed for a crowd so large.
Another thought flashes in Hyunsuk’s mind, “I haven’t spoken to Mashiho in ages.”
“Me too.” Jihoon agrees, grabbing his phone to hold it closer to his face and completely abandoning his work. Hyunsuk can hear the kids giggling in the background. “I haven’t really spoken to Yedam much, either.”
This must be one of those periods they have where things are a bit hectic due to exams and the group members don’t have the opportunity to catch each other very often. Hyunsuk makes a mental note to shoot a text to the two when he has time.
“I think exams have been stressing him out these days. Apparently, he’s started studying all night again.” Junkyu says thoughtfully, mouth twisted in a pout.
Hyunsuk makes the link; “Yeah, he’s always late these days.”
“I don’t blame him, exam season’s kicking my ass, too.” Jihoon laughs, but there’s a glimmer of something in his expression. Hyunsuk wonders just how Jihoon is coping with all of this stress. Knowing him, he probably thinks he can handle anything that comes his way.
Hyunsuk doesn’t like the thought of any of his juniors suffering. “It’s not good for him, I don’t want him to have, like, a breakdown, or something.”
“Exam season’s ending soon anyway, so I hope he gets to- one sec, I’ll call you guys back.” Junkyu starts, and when he speaks again, he has that tone to his voice.
Junkyu’s so transparent, it’s easy to tell whenever his girlfriend has suddenly made an appearance. Accordingly, Jihoon begins teasing him. “Is your girlfriend calling? You know you can’t keep her waiting, Junkyu-yah.”
All Hyunsuk hears is an eloquent fuck off, and then Junkyu’s line goes dead.
Then, it’s just the two of them.
The conversation doesn’t really last long after Junkyu’s sudden departure because the twins get restless and their heads start appearing on camera, to Hyunsuk’s amusement. They then start trying to ask Hyunsuk endless questions with endless answers, so Jihoon ends up having mercy and whisks them away to help them take showers.
From then on, the rest of Hyunsuk’s day consists of him going downstairs and eating with his parents, who ask him about typical things like school and the club. It’s all routine. Study. Eat. Sleep.
Once Hyunsuk finally gets back in his room, he collapses in bed. He just lies there, phone plugged in by his head and mind taking him through the events of the past few hours.
He closes his eyes and falls into a dreamless sleep.