Chapter Text
"All I'm saying is that I'm lucky it's not me," Taehyun shrugged, and Soobin visualised the boy trip on the stairs they were walking up while dragging their suitcases behind them one step at a time. The lights in the stairwell were turned low, matching the dark gradient clouding the outside- it wasn't an impossible scenario.
"Just come out and say it," Kai chirped in from the front, already much further than the two other boys, covering his grin with the sleeve of a crew neck three sizes too large for his body.
Soobin groaned.
"Soobin," Taehyun placed a sympathetic hand on the older boy's wrist, "you're absolutely fucked." They both heard Kai let out a squealing laugh, and Soobin hardened his expression, the latter quickly retrieving his palm.
"I'm sure it will be just fine," Kai tried to fix the broken. It was futile.
They had reached the end of the stairway- this was where their paths separated. The dorms for the second years' were located after the commandant's hole in the wall, who with disinterest checked the youngsters' id's, guided them further, the annoyed expression unfaltering. It was a part of the no drinking-no partying-no leaving after the curfew policy that the university enforced on the youngest.
"Send us a text if you need anything, yeah?" Taehyun lowered his voice, "I'm sure we can smuggle an extra bed for you inside our dorm room," he gestured with his chin at the intimidating but surely bored commandant.
It might have been a silly joke at first, but Soobin had his priorities straight, and more than anything wanted to keep them that way. "Yeah," he frowned, but the lines on his face were softer than before, "thanks."
Soobin was no first nor second-year student, he waved the younger two goodbyes and took on another stairwell taking him a story higher, looking for room number 55- the highly possible grand finale of his life. If grand equalled dinosaurs and hair chalk. In his world- it probably did.
Literature was his sweet release- always has been. In the past, when the earth spun in a direction that made him dizzy, created a vortex of hopelessness in between his lungs, he shoved his face in a story and forgot everything, lived as someone else for a fraction of time- happy. Then, when the story ended, he gladly dived into another one. Now, he was studying the subject with pride.
The emotion hidden in books left him bewildered. Stories of real people and their life lessons, their happiness, their honest sorrow positioned together in a bouquet of imagination, and it was up to the readers to guess which words came from the soul, an open wound refusing to heal, and which from a land of dreams. Still, the writers had felt it all, and- oh god- Soobin could only assume he understood what it meant for them, how the words written on paper felt on the skin, in the blood vessels of the heart.
Soobin’s love for such beauty was given down to him by his lovely mother, how could he not place it on an exceptional pedestal? They've bonded over it for years, shared memories.
So you could say he was - a little - upset about being paired in a room with Choi Yeonjun. But it was reasonable, it really was!
Once he found the cursed room number, Soobin opened the door, and it was alright. The space intended for two students to share wasn't anything close to lush, but the boy breathed out in relief at the marvellous sight of a separate bathroom. Last year he could only dream of one. The dorm kitchen- just as last year- was shared by all-same year students. But most of them ordered food rather than cooked it, lived off of store-bought frozen meals and instant ramen, so it wasn't a huge deal. Soobin could deal with that.
Two beds stood at opposite sides, and there was an ugly looking red carpet with a triangle pattern between them, complimenting the chipped beige walls, two twin cherry wood tables, and a common wardrobe. Soobin picked the empty bed on the right side- threw his suitcase on it, his tired body following.
The thing was, he had known Yeonjun for as long as he could remember, the image of him familiar even before university. It was fate's joke he had kept to himself for now- the following of the latter's presence all through Soobin's life, a whisper in the background. It wasn't like he could exactly muffle it out, anyway. A white noise, a squeal of blood rushing through his ears, a sound made of silence. Because Choi Yeonjun didn't - exactly - make a lot of noise, he just - was - a lot. A strong presence, perhaps? But not the accomplished kind, not the type that left another in awe, envious of the latter's stance, confidence and everything else unreachable by the mortals of this earth. The kind that made another go, "Huh? What is this?"
Soobin was already prepared for whatever dared to unfold when the door opened once more, creaking ever so slightly. A light pink hair strand poked through the crack, then the tip of a pointed nose.
"This is room fifty-five, right?" The boy pushed half of his body inside the room, murmuring to himself before spotting Soobin, their eyes meeting in a stare-off.
Soobin muttered, "yeah," then turned to lay on his side, pretending to scroll through his phone- turned off, screen black. With the corner of his eye, he saw the boy enter, fidgeting around until he finally dropped his bag on the leftover bed. There was a cat-sized dinosaur plush in his arms- lime green with two large beaded eyes-, which he petted with the palm of his hand before carefully placing it on top of a sheetless pillow. Soobin didn't understand.
"I'm Choi Yeonjun, by the way," the boy said while unpacking, back turned to the latter, "and you?"
Soobin furrowed his eyebrows.
The first time he had met Yeonjun was during primary school. They hadn't been classmates, but the memory of him was still fresh in his mind. He had been different back then- louder maybe, made friends with ease, and knew how to stand his ground, how to win over the teachers. Soobin could note it in the way Yeonjun used to say his own name- like everyone in the room was gathered there just to hear it.
Soobin has always kept more to himself- reserved. Maybe he simply didn't enjoy wasting time on things that didn't matter, like boldness and being someone’s favourite.
Then, three years ago, Choi Yeonjun reappeared with bleach blonde hair- a mullet- and rhinestones on his cheek that glistened out of place, and now the university started taking notice of him, of his essays, presentations, poems of dinosaurs and everything else that mocked the beauty of literature. The boy wasn't as noisy anymore, always sat and ate alone, avoiding conversation. Now thinking of it, Soobin didn't even want to understand.
They had never talked before, but the whispers in Soobin's head didn't want to believe the latter had never noticed his presence.
You see, Soobin was a tall -tall- guy (lucky, wasn't it?), on top of all of his classes without much effort, dark chocolate eyes matching his hair. There must have been something special, memorable about him.
"Soobin," he said as nonchalantly as he could, lips pushed together in a tight line.
Yeonjun hummed in response, "Hope we can make this work. It's my first year living in dorms."
For a second Soobin wanted to ask how so as it was the latter's third year, but he chose against it. Money issues, he assumed, and left it at that.
Yeonjun turned as if to leave for the bathroom but paused, finger pointed at the other boy's bag. Soobin kept pretending that whatever displayed on his phone - it was nothing, not even a thing if his reflection didn't count - was more captivating than the sudden turn of events.
"You're a Choi as well," Yeonjun said, and it sounded as if the older was mocking him. Them?
Soobin glanced to where he was pointing and, ah, it was the name tag his mother had put on his bag, always worried. He let out a groan which in the context of the situation could have been taken as an agreement.
Yeonjun smiled, replied how it would be funny if they divided rooms by last names- a whole hallway of Chois. Or maybe they were the only two, and this was supposed to be the bigger joke. Then finally left, locked himself inside their shared bathroom with a lilac towel in hand.
It was the third week of university, and Soobin was already six-feet deep in assignments. There was a lecture about Theory and Criticism that he had to conduct for a grade, and it was stressing the boy out to the point of his skin taking the damage- reddened spots making an appearance on his lower jaw. It was tragic.
"When are we going out?" Kai slumped his upper body on top of the library desk, tired.
Taehyun didn't look up from the notebook he was reading, marking every other word with neon yellow- the whole page coloured at this point. "Out of these bodies? Life? Consciousness? Hopefully soon; I'm drained, and it's only the end of the first month."
Soobin watched them both, face resting on top of his palm. There were a lot of things he could say about almost everyone he had met in his life, analyse their positive attributes and how they reacted with the opposite qualities that their souls carried. His English teacher in fourth grade used to remind him to dream big, but her eyes never reached his, the smile on her lips lasting only a mere second. The mailman who brought his mother’s weekly magazine to their home’s threshold asked about their day like a prayer- faithfully each time-, yet overpowered their answers with happenings Soobin wasn’t so sure were real. The principal’s hands shook whenever she talked about the university's achievements. Soobin’s niece laughed the most piercingly whenever her father was around, secretly full of hurt.
But when it came to Kai and Taehyun-
he didn’t care to say a thing.
The boys lived, and he let them. With all of their faults, their talents - they were not Soobin's story to tell. They were Huening Kai and Kang Taehyun, and it said enough.
Kai whined loudly and immediately got shushed by the librarian sorting books at a two-metre distance from them. "Out to have fun," he said with that puppy expression he wore so well.
"You can’t even hold your liquor," smirked the blonde, "let's not even start with you and women. Last time we went out you-"
"Boys, no talking!" the librarian was sending death glares their way, Soobin bowed his head- a silent apology.
Taehyun continued while whispering, "-you fucking tripped at least three girls on the dance floor with your -moves-, and that didn't even involve you actually opening your mouth and talking to them. Not that this conversation is about making relations, it's about not being a god damned threat to society."
Soobin grinned remembering- it was chaos.
"It's not my fault!" Kai whispered back, but it was the first signal of war, "Dear Choi Soobin over here, the national treasure, the captain drinker, lead role of Every Moment Can Become a Tequila Moment -"
Soobin rolled his eyes, then by accident met the librarian's in between shelves of history and philosophy textbooks- challenging- and ducked his head to disappear from her point of view.
"-doesn't know what the words if you pour me one more, you'll have to carry me home mean. I thought he was a language and literature fanatic- maybe I am wrong," the boy shrugged.
"I did carry you home, though," Soobin whispered back, masking his mouth with a flattened palm- discreet. He did, he truly did, and he was never doing that again.
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you had to go all the way to reach the point of no return."
Soobin furrowed his eyebrows in a theatrical manner, tilting his head to one side, "I'm sorry, but who are we talking about?"
Taehyun snorted, finally pushing his notes away, making sure Soobin saw his amused expression, "Kai, there's more pride in a fair defeat than a false win."
The younger raised himself, positioning his body to lean against his elbows, "All this talking, but when it's about going out to have some real fun- crickets," he complained, but Taehyun quickly placed his hand over Kai's lips, silencing his raised voice. All the boys flashed an apologetic smile to the librarian who was ready to kick them out at this point, staring at the trio with her hands on her hips.
Soobin knew they all noticed Yeonjun walk in the next moment. It was the way none of them resumed the court hearing that had managed to spring between them until the boy sat down, opening his laptop- dinosaur pyjama bottoms matching his pink hair. After that, all prior accusations were long forgotten, a new match already lit in the chamber of gas.
Taehyun raised his eyebrow, turning his head to look at Soobin, "how has it been?"
Terrible, it has been terrible. Yeonjun lived in a mess, his clothes scattered everywhere on an everyday basis, towels left on the floor by the shower. There were nights when the latter was gone, and Soobin thanked the higher beings for allowing him this moment of peace, but then he woke up, and the room reeked of alcohol, there was glitter on the ugly carpet- the boy passed out with half his clothes on above the covers of his bed.
Soobin never saw him study, didn't see him that much in general except before going to sleep or during the lectures they shared. But Yeonjun sat all the way to the front and Soobin blended in at the middle.
"Yeah, you haven't talked about it," Kai joined in, nudging the dark-haired boy.
"He's weird," was all he answered.
"I heard rumours about him the other day," Kai gestured for the three of them to lean in closer, which they did, "Heard he's dating some theatre major. A girl I have English with tried making out with him at a bar last week but this guy took her by the shoulders and guided her to the door. Said Yeonjun - doesn't mess around or date -."
"But," Taehyun squinted his eyes, confused, "you just mentioned him dating the guy, why would he say-"
"That's the rumour, everything else is a fact." Kai grimaced as if it was obvious. "You know, most of all, I'm surprised the guy has friends," he admitted and earned a light smack on the head from the librarian who had without notice made her way to their table.
"Out!" she declared, "Now!"
Soobin panicked, pressing his hands into a prayer, “I’m so sorry, ma’am, I will make sure to keep them quiet; please.”
“Soobin-” she interjected.
The room full of people didn't even try to swallow down their smug grins, staring at the three boys packing their bags, endlessly apologising for causing trouble.
The hallways were quiet, most students already back at their dorms, filling out pages of homework or rather lounging around with the action in mind. There was a dulcet melody composed of guitars and a drum set playing in the background-the music club working on a new song- as they pulled their feet through the campus. It was pleasant, calming, helped Soobin relax and not get the frustration over getting kicked out before he could finish his work get the best of him.
"So about that going out," Kai remembered once they got to where the dorms separated. "How about at the end of next week? We rarely do things like that, it will be fun."
Taehyun rubbed at the back of his nape, unsure, "I can't promise anything- maybe. My parents usually ask me to come home for the weekends."
Soobin agreed, forcing a slight smile on his lips, "I'll try to keep the date open," and it seemed to be enough for the youngest, a hopeful gleam already on full display.
"Great!"
"Great," Soobin nodded, "See you both tomorrow then," he spared them a look of goodbye, walking off to his room.
Truth be told he missed home, missed his mother's cooking whenever he stayed at the dorms longer than a week. It was silly- he was twenty-something, in the prime time of life. Soobin should have been eager to conquer the world, make it his glistening oyster made out of nacre, but the boy liked to think of himself as a "play it safe" type of guy. He didn't do well with change- it freaked him out.
The city he came from wasn't big- he could walk to one of its edges and back in forty minutes if he didn't get stopped midway by familiar faces wanting to send a greeting to his family. The roads there were paved with chipped grey bricks, and the scenery through his window unfolded into half-blind stray cats gathering around his front door for greasy leftovers. A bit secluded from the capital's skyscrapers, a bit lonesome for those who didn't have their childhood memories carved into the streets. It was what he was used to, where he felt safe.
So despite the city enveloping Soobin calling him by his name- alluring- with all the shining opportunities to be taken, people to be met- he had his one-track mind set on his studies and his one-track heart on his way back home. Help his dear mother with the chores, with the money. Somehow. Somehow he was going to figure it all out for them.
When he opened the door to room 55- it was in disarray. Crumpled papers were lying on the floor and on his bed, which he immediately threw off into the air- annoyed. It was shameless, Yeonjun was absolutely shameless, and it pissed Soobin off, made him grind his teeth, bite the inside of his cheek from words unsaid. He hadn't opened his mouth to the boy yet, hoping the latter's behaviour would improve with time, but - clearly - it was not going to happen. Not in this world.
The roommate Soobin had last year barely slept at their dorm- always off finding excitement in someone else's bed. Yeah, the room smelled of cigarettes when he came by to pack clean clothes, he stole Soobin's shampoo and body wash and never apologised, but the boy knew shame. Knew when he had fucked up, when not to show himself to Soobin's flaming eyes after causing another failed morning shower.
This - dinosaur guy or whatever the fuck - knew none of that. Shit, it was as if Soobin wasn't even there, as if his presence meant nothing more than a rat's in a wall.
Soobin went into the bathroom to find a broom and, filled with anger, started sweeping all the papers in a pile. He didn't care if Yeonjun needed any of them- they were all going into the trash. It took him about ten minutes to get the ones ripped into pieces out from under the dresser, then around ten more to calm down, close his eyes and breathe in and out, in and out.
"Think of a happy place," he murmured to himself, then he heard the door creak open.
"Hey," a familiar voice filled the room, cautious. "I-uh-," the boy cut himself short, and Soobin opened his eyes, turned to look at his pink-haired roommate. "You cleaned it up, uh-"
"Did you want me to leave it there?" Soobin gestured with his hands, no warmth, no nothing. He was sick of it, anger starting to boil inside of him once more.
"N-no," Yeonjun went to press his hand against his temples, the other holding his laptop against his side, "I would have done it myself," but now his tone was matching the latter's- annoyed.
Soobin snickered, "Right. Like last time?" Or any other time, as a matter of fact. Papers, dirty clothes, even dried mud from the soles of Yeonjun's shoes- in these three weeks, Soobin had seen it all.
Yeonjun finally stepped inside, closing the door behind him, overlooking the room. There was a tinge of worry mixing in with the anger, hiding in the lines of his furrowed brows. Soobin rolled his eyes, passed him the broom, shoved it into his roommate's hands with more force than necessary- just because he could.
"Go ahead," he said the words as a replacement for a white fluttering flag but created more flame.
"Why are you such an asshole?" Yeonjun took a step forward, carefully throwing his laptop onto his bed, his voice coming out louder than Soobin had heard in ages- hoarse.
"Me?" he laughed, "Sure, whatever makes you sleep better at night."
Soobin leaned down to pick up a book from beside his bed, shoved a pair of wired headphones in his pocket. He was getting the hell out of there, screw this situation, screw this weirdo.
"You could have asked, you know that right?" Yeonjun set the broom against the wall, and Soobin heard him kick the trash can, trying to see the pieces of his crumpled papers tossed inside, "Like an adult?"
Now that was a funny thing to say. "Ahh, the art of projecting," Soobin uttered to himself.
He knew it wasn't pretty, knew he was acting by his emotions, but if Yeonjun had at least tried to keep their relation somewhat bearable- this wouldn't be happening. So he didn't care. He spun around and shoved the smaller boy to the side, trying to open the door to leave.
Yeonjun hissed, "What the fuck?" but Soobin was already making his way down the hall. The voice calling out for him fused with the sound of his footsteps. He was the wind, scattered, restless all over the place.
There was an area with a loveseat near the kitchen, it had a standing lamp that buzzed with a yellow light, a floral crocheted pillow as a failed attempt to liven the corner, a tear on one of the armrests wide enough to poke two fingers through. Not that it mattered, when all Soobin needed was a place to cool down, read over his textbook notes, and possibly look for an apartment within a few minute radius from the campus buildings.
He slumped down- it was getting late, late enough that he could allow himself to lift his feet up, prop them against the fabric of the couch, legs bent at the knees. He pressed the book he had grabbed against his chest, staring at the ceiling. And it felt bad.
It felt bad that he had lashed out on the older, acted out on emotion and impulse. Soobin felt guilty, and the feeling throbbed together with his heartbeat, each passing second a bit heavier than before. He knew his mother wouldn't approve of this. She had taught him better.
Yeah, he didn't particularly like- had never liked- this Choi Yeonjun guy, didn't understand his tactics, didn't care to try and figure them out, but it didn't give him a reason to be a bitch about it.
Yet the red, blooming anger was there present with the guilt- a rollercoaster ride taking him higher before it dropped him back down. He was sure Yeonjun could make his own decisions, live his life just fine in the goddamn mess he created around him if it was his choice. But it was part of basic human understanding that whenever someone else was involved you had to adapt if only for the slightest bit. Understand their needs. And the bar for Soobin's needs was low. All he wanted was for the floor to be fucking clean, his bed untouched, his space respected. As basic as that.
But now here he was- basking in anger and guilt-, and it wasn't his fault.
Soobin exhaled.
"You good?" came a familiar voice, and the boy sat up abruptly searching for the other.
Soobin tensed his jaw, brushed a falling hair strand away from his eyes, and, "yeah- yeah, I'm fine."
"Roommate issues?" Taehyun suggested, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall of the kitchen entrance.
Soobin shrugged, lowering his feet back onto the ground.
"You're torn."
He was. Still, "Why are you here?"
Taehyun grinned, unfolding his arms to hold up a packet of sugar, "Stealing from you."
Somehow the mood changed after that; it didn't feel as suffocating anymore. Looking at Taehyun's half-lidded eyes and grey sweats, Soobin guessed that perhaps he was only tired. The life he had been given might fit him better tomorrow.
"Could have asked first," he said, pretending he cared, but the words were airy, and there was a chance they never existed in the first place.
But Taehyun grinned once more, proving that maybe they did, "Want to talk about it?"
"The sugar?" Soobin raised his eyebrows, jokingly.
"Nah," the boy came closer, for a second contemplating sitting next to the older, but deciding against it. Soobin could note it in the way they shared a pregnant look- a secret they never spoke of, "You looking as if you're about to give up on life."
"It's not that serious," he objected, fingers lightly tapping on the book still held against his chest.
"Right," Taehyun nodded. "Sleeping here tonight?"
"No, I just needed to cool off," he admitted, lowering his gaze to the ankle-high socks the latter was wearing, "got kind of angry, you know how-"
"- I know," the boy whispered. "You need a certain type of structure, a certain type of peace; it's alright. Maybe ask for a room switch?"
Everything always found its place, didn't it? A microscopic hole where to spill through. Even the smallest of emotions, the smallest of half-thoughts appeared in front of the person bearing them, suddenly. As if the earth had always revolved around them.
Taehyun fit next to Soobin in a dim-lit room, a buzzing light bulb colouring the mood between them. Away from knowing eyes, away from the urgency to admit to things unsaid, to - deal- with all of it.
Soobin bit the inside of his cheek, "I might."
"Cool."
"Cool," and it was always like this- a little strained when they were alone, bitter, but familiar. The strain didn't hurt, though, but the memories it induced afterwards rang in Soobin's head for hours.
"Wanna head back?" Taehyun asked, backing up a bit, eyes on the older- unmoving.
Soobin shook his head, "Gonna read. Give me about an hour, and I'll crawl back to my room."
The latter nodded, giving the older a faltering smile and a wave of his hand saying he'll see him tomorrow, and then Soobin was alone again.
After that, the lonesome atmosphere felt weak. Soobin felt weak. He opened the book, reading through the lines but what flooded his mind were not the words written, but rather the questioning of why. They were naive thoughts, shortsighted, but it wasn't a crime to wish for miracles, to search for them in between the everyday stress.
Why couldn't life simply flow his way? Why all of these distractions?
When Soobin came back to his room, the lights were already out, a lump under the blankets to his left. Yeonjun was asleep, smacking his lips while dreaming- an irritating sound in Soobin's humble opinion. Choi Yeonjun was a hassle both when awake and asleep. How wonderful.
The younger boy undressed, setting the alarm clock to seven a.m., pushing his face into the cold pillow before groaning without making a sound. It was a bit ironic, but at least one of them had been raised well.
To get an apartment, he needed cash which meant he needed a job. Soobin couldn't - afford - to have a job when his studies were taking most of his time.
A room switch? Maybe. Yeah, maybe he could get a room switch.