Chapter Text
Yeosang zipped through the courtyard, narrowly avoiding other students and pretending he couldn’t see the glares faculty shot him. It didn’t matter to Yeosang anymore. What were they going to do, write him up? He was a week into his junior year and already filled with detention, so what was there to fear? The school wouldn’t suspend him. All they’d do is give him another disappointed lecture and lock him away in the AV room with Mr. Kim until they legally couldn’t keep him there anymore. Generally it was until five o’ clock when Mr. Kim decided he wanted to go home, or occasionally earlier on days he felt Yeosang had had enough. They had a nice understanding going after all these years together.
That said, Yeosang chose to skateboard between the buildings instead of trying to walk and make the late bell. He never hit anyone, although the thought had crossed his mind a time or two, and until today, he’d never run into a crowd he couldn’t avoid. Coming to a halt, Yeosang kicked his board up into his hand and started fighting through the mob of people between him and M building. He didn’t bother trying to figure out what they were going crazy over because chances were Yeosang wouldn’t care. Instead, he held firmly to both his board and the headphones threatening to fall every time someone bumped into him. To no ones surprise, he ended up late to seventh period.
Yeosang was thoroughly annoyed after being scolded for his lateness. It wasn’t his fault the sheep were going gaga over something stupid today. He shouldn’t be blamed for the school’s inability to keep their courtyards accessible, especially when it had been happening all week. Now, Yeosang wouldn’t call himself curious, because really he wasn’t curious about whatever thing his peers were ogling. He was, however, observant, and he’d noticed students congregating way more than they usually did since the start of school. These crowds weren’t the normal friend group size. Yeosang wouldn’t take notice of that. They were big gaggles of students, bridging grade, gender, sex, etc. It was hard to not wonder what the hell could be so exciting on a high school campus.
He wasn’t interested enough to ask questions though. Yeosang dedicated about one minute to thinking about this before he filed it away under the useless observations tab in his brain and worked his way through the busywork their language teacher had provided. He actually like busywork, contrary to the popular opinion. Yeosang liked mindless work and easy grades. He was second in his class, nearly valedictorian, and maybe Yeosang sort of wanted the spot. Not enough to let anyone know or take harder classes, but enough that he did every extra credit assignment just to try and beat out first place. It was his own little competition to keep up with.
At the end of seventh, Yeosang slipped his headphones back on and blasted his favorite playlist (pleasantly titled Villain Tings) as he skated towards the AV room. He was probably going to be late for detention too at the rate he was going, but Yeosang still stopped by the cafe and bought two hot coffees. He recognized that drinking expresso at three probably wasn’t good for him, but it made him feel a little less like slamming his head through a wall, so fuck healthy. The second one was, of course, for Mr. Kim, who preferred more milk than he did coffee and just way too much sugar. Yeosang wasn’t going to judge him though. Not when coffee was the reason Mr. Kim let him keep his headphones on through detention.
It was about ten minutes after detention began that Yeosang finally pulled up outside the AV room. The door was propped open for him to roll right in, roughly stopping in front of Mr. Kim’s desk and offering him the coffee with a faint smile. Mr. Kim, mock annoyed, took the coffee and gestured for Yeosang to remove the headphones, something he rarely did anymore. Frowning, Yeosang did as he was told. He didn’t have to ask why, following Mr. Kim’s line of sight to the back of the classroom where there were actually other people for once. That meant they had to follow actual detention rules today and to top it all off, Yeosang realized this was a group of people he really didn’t like.
San wouldn’t meet his eyes, as expected, but Wooyoung was never one to shy from a challenge. He matched Yeosang’s glare with a mean one of his own, and it only further soured Yeosang’s mood. Of course the people who would get detention were his ex friends. Who else would God put in a room with him for two hours after an awful day of school?
Now in a bad mood, Yeosang looked to Mr. Kim and asked, “Can’t Mrs. Seo babysit this group?”
Mr. Kim just hummed, “No. She’s not covering detention today, but you’ll be fine Kang. You can survive one real detention.”
“It’s always real detention,” Yeosang muttered, but didn’t argue. It wasn’t Mr. Kim’s fault he was stuck here and they didn’t both need to be miserable.
Sighing, he sought out a seat beneath the window as far from his ex friends and their group as he could get. Without his headphones, Yeosang was considerably more bitter, and it didn’t help that Wooyoung was still glaring at him. He didn’t bother glaring back, pulling his homework out of his backpack and getting to work. This was normally what he did during detention although he usually had access to his music. Without it, Yeosang had to deal with ringing in his ears from the silence and an ever growing irritation. It had been a while since he’d had to actually endure a quiet detention. Mr. Kim even played his playlists over the speakers sometimes as they worked together. He’d forgotten how much detention fucking sucked.
“Mr. Kim?”
That was Wooyoung’s stupid boyfriend Jongho. Yeosang recognized his voice. They’d had a class together last year and Yeosang had spent a lot of time mentally cursing the young beta for clearly being smarter than him. Yeosang wasn’t a big fan of his.
“Yes, Jongho.”
“What do I do when I run out of homework?”
Yeosang looked up quick enough to find Mr. Kim shrugging, his feet propped up on his desk and a pencil balanced on his cupid’s bow. “I guess you stare at the wall and contemplate your wrong doings.”
Yeosang choked down a snort. At least Mr. Kim was hating this as much as he was.
“Okay fuck this,” Mr. Kim exclaimed after another minute ticked by. “I hate covering detention. Why do I have to sit in silence because you guys suck? Kang?”
Yeosang looked up, raising a brow.
“Playlist.”
He was quick to oblige, standing and handing over his phone for Mr. Kim to peruse through. He trusted the older man enough to let him look through the playlists, but not enough to leave the unlocked phone at his desk. Instead, Yeosang leaned against the back of his chair, watching the screen as Mr. Kim scrolled through for the playlists he liked. Finally he found the least depressing one, Homework Zombie, and plugged it into the classroom speakers. Yeosang waited until Mr. Kim locked the phone to back off and return to his seat. If he’d thought that would be the end of things, he was sorely mistaken, because Mr. Kim was a very bored man with limited entertainment options.
“So. What are you lot in here for?”
Yeosang stayed focused on his homework knowing full well Mr. Kim wasn’t talking to him. Against his better judgment, he listened in as Jongho’s older brother answered.
“We were welcoming Mingi back to school and we may have gotten a little rowdy.”
Yunho. His name was Yunho. He’d never personally met Wooyoung and San’s new friends, he’d just heard of them back when they were still talking. Since then they’d grown their little group to include two more people Yeosang didn’t know, and now a third, it seemed.
“Rowdy enough for detention?” Mr. Kim asked. “What did you do?”
“We tossed some stuff off the roof,” Wooyoung clarified.
“You tossed some stuff off the roof,” a foreign voice corrected. “You and San were stupid and now we’re all in trouble.”
San protested, “Hey! Mingi contributed.”
“I did. It’s true.”
Wow. That was a deep voice. Was that even allowed at sixteen? Yeosang couldn’t recall ever hearing that voice so this must be the new addition to their group.
“Well. Public school,” Mr. Kim sighed. “How are you liking it Mingi?”
The deep voice was laced with a joy Yeosang himself hadn’t known in a long time when he said, “Awesome! I actually missed it so much. I’m sure I’ll hate my life in, like, another week or two, but right now I’m having a great time.”
“He likes Mrs. Choi,” Yunho supplied and Mr. Kim cringed.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“What?” Mingi asked. “She’s refreshing. No ones really scolded me in years. It’s kind of nice.”
Yeosang wished he wasn’t listening to this conversation, but he was. Admittedly, he liked Mingi’s voice. It was kind of like how he enjoy Dr. Bang’s class because the low timbre of his voice was so interestingly soothing. It was a weird fascination Yeosang had, but it wasn’t like he’d ever admit it. As far as they knew, Yeosang was completely engrossed in his homework, not listening to the group at all.
“Kang.”
Mr. Kim sure was being annoying today, Yeosang thought as he raised his head again.
“You in for the same fight or a different fight?”
Yeosang hesitantly admitted, “Different fight.”
Mr. Kim shook his head but still asked, “Who?”
“Not sure,” Yeosang shrugged. “Some asshole on the soccer team.”
“Ah, so that’s why Soobin’s face looked like that today,” Mr. Kim whistled. “I think you broke his nose.”
“I did.”
Yeosang wished he felt sorry, but he didn’t. If Soobin didn’t want his nose broken then he shouldn’t have been within nose breaking distance. Simple as that.
“You beat someone up?”
Yeosang was startled that the deep voice was addressing him. He finally gave Mingi his attention, noting the bold blonde hair slicked back from small eyes and an eager look. Mingi was handsome, and from what Yeosang could tell, Alpha, so probably a huge dick. He wasn’t pleased when the other boy visibly startled at his nod, as if Yeosang couldn’t have possibly done any impressive kind of damage with his stature or maybe just his status. It brought along the familiar desire to punch someone in the face which Yeosang fought down for now. He hoped his narrow glare was conveying to Mingi that he needed to be very careful about what he said next if he didn’t want to get into a fight.
“That’s impressive,” Mingi hesitantly said, taken aback by Yeosang’s aggression even from across the room.
“Whatever,” Yeosang muttered back, deciding that for now, Mingi could keep his unbroken nose.
“You’re very pretty.”
Yeosang tensed, suddenly changing his mind. Mingi was probably getting punched before detention ended.
“Don’t bother talking to him, Mingi. Yeosang’s got a stick up his ass,” Wooyoung quipped before Yeosang could even try to respond.
He couldn’t help but retort, “Better than the dick up yours.”
“Fuck you,” Wooyoung fired back. “You act like you aren’t literally a gay omega. Get off your fucking high horse Yeosang.”
Yeosang just rolled his eyes and turned back to his work. Let Wooyoung think he’d won that round, Yeosang didn’t give a fuck. He didn’t want to talk to his once best friend anymore especially not about shit he didn’t understand. Maybe Yeosang did have a stick up his ass, but he’d rather that than be like his sister, or his father, or any of the other poor motherfuckers stuck with the lowest secondary gender. Wooyoung was a beta, he didn’t get it. He would never understand what it was like to walk the world as an omega, and he’d always have a privilege Yeosang never would. He didn’t want to waste another second talking to someone who didn’t even try to understand him.
“Well. This is fun,” Mr. Kim muttered sadly. “Kang.”
“What,” Yeosang sighed, overly annoyed and just trying to finish his math homework.
“Just go home.”
“What?” The protest was from Wooyoung, unsurprisingly. “Can you do that?”
“Yep,” Mr. Kim simply said.
“You sure?” Yeosang asked. He didn’t want to get Mr. Kim in trouble but he really didn’t want to be here.
“Yeah. Not like we won’t be seeing each other every day this year. Go home. Come back tomorrow knowing they have detention all week and without murderous intent.”
All week? A week of dealing with the most obnoxious group of people in school? Fucking fantastic. Yeosang gathered up his shit, plugging his headphones back in as Mr. Kim slid him his phone, and dropping his board down. Before leaving, he made sure to ask Mr. Kim, “You want Obi’s tomorrow?”
Obi’s was the bakery across the street. Yeosang wasn’t the biggest fan of sweet things, but they sold this one croissant he liked there, and Mr. Kim really liked their donuts.
“Hell yeah! Strawberry donuts. Dozen.”
“I’ll get you three,” Yeosang deadpanned, rolling his eyes and then he was gone, gliding down the hallway and fighting the rising anger that having to speak to Wooyoung always brought on.
He’d only made it through about forty minutes of detention today, so it was still just before four o’ clock. That left Yeosang with options. He could, A. go home and deal with that bullshit, B. go to his sisters apartment and deal with her shit, or C. aimlessly skate around the park and try to get the ducks to let him pet them. Obviously, Yeosang ended up at the park, sitting silently in the grass in the hopes a duck would approach him. It happened sometimes. Ducks were pretty friendly and they were the one animal at the park no one would yell at him for petting. The dog owners were bitchy about that more often than not and it wasn’t like a lot of people were out walking their cats. That left Yeosang with ducks.
He didn’t end up going home until well after five, when the sun started setting and the grass went from warm and welcoming to damp and cold. He’d laid there for a lot longer than usual, perhaps a little put off by having to talk to someone other than Mr. Kim today. Normally people didn’t speak to Yeosang. He’d cemented his reputation as someone moody and volatile. Someone not to be approached, and he knew that that was ultimately better for him. It was a little lonely though. Yeosang couldn’t lie, sometimes he wished he still had friends. Sometimes he missed his middle school days with San and Wooyoung, tied together at the hip. There was never any doubt in his mind that he had someone who cared about him back then.
Now, everything was different. They hadn’t been friends since eighth grade when Wooyoung met Jongho and consequently brought San and Yunho together. The introduction of an alpha and another beta had thrown everything off. They weren’t the three musketeers anymore, they were all over the place. Yeosang couldn’t call San whenever he needed because ‘oh, sorry Yunho invited me to lunch’ and that was fine except it wasn’t. Yeosang didn’t call if he didn’t absolutely need to, and when they stopped answering? That shit hurt. So maybe Yeosang was the one who pulled away, but for good reason. He’d rather desert than be deserted.
“I’m home,” he called, knowing full well the only response he’d receive would be the echo of his voice off empty walls.
Sighing, Yeosang kicked off his shoes and balanced his board against the wall. No one was going to be home today. No one was ever home, but that was the better option. Yeosang had learned that lesson very quickly. It was much better to be left alone. He trailed into the kitchen, turning on every light as he passed. Call him what you would, but Yeosang didn’t like the dark, especially when he was home all alone. It wasn’t like they didn’t have more than enough money to pay the bills anyway. He hastily poured himself a bowl of cereal for dinner, vaguely remembering last week when Mr. Kim had expressed concern for his weight. He probably should eat more, but it was just such a chore to cook. Why bother when it was just him?
He collapsed onto the couch with a huff, turning on the TV to drown out the silence. Yeosang’s pillow and duvet were already there for him to wrap up in as he’d slept there the night before. It had been a habit for years now, something he only changed up when one of his parents came home and even then, he slept on the couch in his room, not the bed. Yeosang knew he’d have to confront that fear one day, but for now he was content to sleep on couches and use the TV to lull him into a restless sleep. Like every other day, Yeosang wrapped himself up and stared blankly ahead. Like every night, he slept through his nightmares with the help of his sister’s pills and did his best to prepare for another day. This was the life, wasn't it?