Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

「 january 18 | thursday | 11:03am 」

Ari has never been one to believe in ghosts, but he’s pretty fucking sure he just saw a poltergeist.

He’s in the student council room, having swung by during lunch to chip away at some unfinished paperwork, and he was expecting to be alone. You know, considering all the council members are out having lunch, and the only person who has keys to the room is Ari, and that, by all logic, no one else should be in here.

But he’d stepped into the room, popped open a cabinet, collected the papers, and watched in complete and utter horror as the whiteboard on the unit at the front of the room, usually reserved for storage and usually still, fucking moved.

So he’s either gone crazy, or there’s someone hiding behind the whiteboard unit. Out of the two options, he thinks the former is more plausible.

The whiteboards slide—that’s one of their functions—but usually, that sliding is prompted by someone. Newton’s first law and all. So why, oh why, did the whiteboard, a good few feet away from Ari himself, just slide?

Granted, it was only an inch or two, but no wind could have moved it like that, plus the windows are closed because of the cold winter air, plus even if there was any wind, none of the windows are pointed to the whiteboard, and oh God, Ari is going crazy.

Gripping the collection of papers in one hand, totally not shaking in the slightest, Ari feels himself swallow a dry gulp. He doesn’t take his eyes off the whiteboard as he strides closer, the leather of his Oxfords squeaking with the movement.

Resilience, he tells himself. Dignity. Don’t scream. 

With confidence that could fool an entire assembly hall, Ari reaches up with a broad hand, slides the whiteboard open, and—

There’s.

There’s a person.

In the whiteboard.

Whiteboard.

There’s a person in the—

Ari’s mind barely has enough time to register the reality, much less the identity of the person, sirens going off in his brain because There Is A Person In The Whiteboard, and his mouth moves before anything else does; before anything can stop it; it decides to say:

“...You’re not allowed to be in here.”

Oh, way to go, Ari, tell the fucking poltergeist that it’s not allowed to hang out behind your whiteboard, go ahead and ruin a ghost’s afterlife peace, why don’t you—

A snort from the person in the whiteboard breaks Ari’s train of reprimanding thoughts, and fortunately brings him back to the world of reality.

The reality being that there is a person, sitting in the small space behind the whiteboard, munching on a sandwich, laughing at him. “Wow! Really?” the person says, contempt and sarcasm evident in their voice. “And here I thought I was being a perfectly respectable student.”

When they roll their eyes, Ari takes the moment to appraise them and finally have his brain work.

The messy thrown-together uniform, shirt unbuttoned at the top, tie absent, and engulfed by a sweater three sizes too big for him; the head of curls that hang over his eyes and hug his neck in an unruly wolf-cut; the overwhelming amount of piercings that glint from beneath black locks; the black headphones wrapped around his neck like a scarf; and the most characteristic of all—that glare. Dark brown, almost an inky black in the shadows of the small space, but glowing with embers of what Ari can only determine as distaste.

Fitting entirely too well in the storage space behind the whiteboard, with his lunch in-hand, is the notorious Hyojin Carys. 

Ari’s heard of him. He’d have to be living under a rock to not know who he is. He knows very well of his reputation—a delinquent, in one word. A fighter; a rogue; a gangster; an all-around troublesome guy who could probably knock you out flat on your ass if you so much as look him in the eye.

The rumours about him stretch far and wide: from the apparent insane number of people he’s sent to the ER, to his suspicious ties to the underground world… The remaining constant between all the stories, the moral of the story, is that Hyojin Carys is a man that you should avoid on all accounts—lest you find yourself in a world of trouble.

He’s had a total of one interaction with the guy (two, now, if you can count this as an interaction): the start of senior year, right after Hyojin had transferred in from Korea. It wasn’t much of a first impression, but it definitely hadn’t been a good one.

The first time Ari saw Hyojin, he was covered in bruises and scars and in such a mess that, even with only a few feet between them, Ari couldn’t tell which splatters of red were from him, and which were from the two guys on the ground.

Ari remembers the first time he saw those eyes—cold anger embedded in near-black pupils beneath long lashes. He remembers the lightning bolt he’d felt shoot through his spine when they made eye contact.

He remembers knowing, right then and there, that this boy spelt “trouble”.

Hyojin had been hauled off campus grounds shortly after that, before Ari could linger with the shared gaze. Part of him is thankful for it.

Now that he thinks about it… Neither of these moments could be counted as an interaction, probably. But with Hyojin Carys, an interaction would probably mean a fight.

And Ari doesn’t even have the coordination for Just Dance with his ma.

“Are you just gonna stare at me all day, or what.” 

Ari blinks down at the man still sitting behind his whiteboard, who wears the world’s most unamused expression on his face, and realises that this is a real situation he’s in. Hyojin Carys, lawbreaking miscreant extraordinaire, is lounging about in the storage space of the student council’s whiteboard unit, eating his lunch.

If any god out there is listening, any god at all, Ari sends them a quick giant fucking question mark, before opening the board more and backing up a step or two away.

The man in the whiteboard makes no move besides a tilt of his head and a raise of one brow.

“Got somethin’ to say, prez? ” He says the nickname like he’s spitting out a clot of blood; like it’s both an inconvenience and a thing of amusement for him.

The student president stones himself, lifting his chin ever so slightly. He does have a reputation to uphold… and he hopes Hyojin Carys can’t sense his fear. “Non-council members aren’t allowed in this room without permission and reason,” he states, matter-of-factly.

Eyes the colour of dried ink of old parchment, Ari decides, run up and down Ari’s build—evaluating him, almost. Analyzing him, maybe. Then a scoff escapes Hyojin’s sneering lips, and Ari just barely hears him mumble, “one fight and they think you’re the fucking mafia.”

Ari decides not to dwell on it, if he even heard it right. He clears his throat and straightens his posture, ignoring the stiffness of his blazer collar against his nape as he fires off a curious question. “Can I… ask how you got in?”

He’d unlocked the door when he came in, and there was no sign of breakage. Plus, Ari has a track record of never leaving the place unlocked. So how... 

Another scoff sounds from Hyojin’s throat, and Ari is starting to think the man despises him.

“How do you think I got in?” he asks, vocal cords drenched in sarcasm, and, yeah, Hyojin Carys almost definitely hates him. “C’mon, prez, ” he taunts with a gleaming tooth too similar to a fang, “you’ve the highest marks of the school, right? Use that big brain of yours.”

It’s demeaning, the way he speaks, but Ari didn’t expect anything less. In fact, it’s almost tamer than what Ari had expected—which was a lot less an exchange of words, and much more an exchange of blows.

But, still, he obeys. His eyes run a quick scan over the room, over entries and exits, and—there: the window opening up to the lacrosse field. Its pane is slightly ajar.

“The—”

“The window!” Hyojin exclaims, fake excitement bubbling through his words with a venomous laugh. “Aren’t you just a genius and a half.”

Suddenly, Ari feels very, very tired.

He stalks off back to the front desk of the room, opposite Hyojin, and lets the stack of papers fall onto wood.

“You need to leave,” he says, making an adamant point of not making eye contact—for his sake, or for Hyojin’s, he doesn’t know.

There’s a short silence that follows, though Ari guarantees it’s not because Hyojin has listened and left, and it piques his curiosity enough to glance over. Briefly enough to not stare; briefly enough to see Hyojin glaring at him.

“Tell you what, prez.”

Ah, there’s that tone, Ari thinks. The voice of an unamused delinquent who’s just revving up the engines to beat someone up. Ari just hopes Hyojin won’t aim for the face.

He looks over, biting the inside of his cheeks, and is met with… 

Not entirely what he was expecting.

Instead of a face smiling with cold intimidation, Ari furrows his brow when he sees the complete lack of energy in Hyojin’s face. That tone that he thought he’d heard—the tone he thought meant his head was going to end up in a toilet bowl after all this—it was… 

“How ‘bout,” Hyojin starts, leaning his head against the open whiteboard, “I stay here, you shut up, and your precious uniform doesn’t end up covered in blood.”

The words are accompanied by bored eyes—nothing ablaze with the rage that Ari remembers seeing, all those months ago. Nothing matching all those stories Ari has heard in the hallways. If anything, Hyojin Carys just looks… tired.

“We clear?”

Ari’s not the type of person to be on either end of a threat, but he knows enough about society to know an empty threat when he hears one. But still, he feels compelled to humour the man.

Motivated by empathy, rather than fear, Ari nods.

“Crystal.”

「 january 18 | thursday | 11:20am 」

Quite frankly, in all of his high school career, Ari has never had a lunch break quite this awkward.

It may very well beat that one time in sophomore year when Lucio and Amir had fought and Ari was forced to sit between them, painfully aware of the miscommunication between the two. (Thankfully that tension had only lasted until the end of that day, when Ari got fed up and told both of them to work things out, and the next day, they were back to being themselves.)

He finds himself at a crossroads, now. In the council room, torn between doing his work, and observing Hyojin Carys.

Not that you ever would, but if you’d told him this morning that he’d be spending his lunch hour looking at local criminal Hyojin Carys, noticing how small and tired and overall unwilling to live up to his threats he is… he’d throw a fake laugh at you and move on.

Being in the same room as Hyojin? And not being halfway on the way to death? It seemed unlikely.

But it’s been a good few minutes, and besides their initial conversation, Hyojin hasn’t glared at Ari or anything—hasn’t even spared him a glance, let alone a passing insult.

He’s just… sitting there.

Eating his lunch.

Ari can’t help but feel that something about all of this is fundamentally… off.

In the minutes of silence, Ari’s wandering eyes have told him enough, and at the same time, not enough.

He’s noticed that Hyojin has no bruises, no scars—nothing visible, at least. Nothing to indicate that consistent fighting nature of his. How is this man the same as the rumours of fighting rings and underground clubs? How is this the man that the school is scared to even whisper about? This man, who looks like he could use twenty hours of sleep, rather than twenty opponents to fight. This man…

“I can feel you staring, you know.”

Ari blinks.

Hyojin is looking at him, a singular brow raised. He’s sipping on a box of strawberry milk, legs hanging off the edge of the whiteboard storage unit, and he seems… normal.

“Sorry,” Ari mumbles, eyes averting back to the papers on the desk in front of him.

He hears Hyojin sigh. “If you’ve got something to say, then say it,” he grumbles. Ari is noticing more and more now that the things he says—they’re not threats. At least, they’re not supposed to be. “If not, just get back to loggin’ finance, or whatever the fuck you do.”

“Signing papers, actually, to…” He clears his throat when he looks up and sees Hyojin raising the brow higher. Perhaps he’s gotten comfy all by himself, and Hyojin hates him all the same. 

Not one to enjoy the silence, Ari speaks up again a few seconds later, after scribbling his signature on the bottom of some request on the theme of the next fundraiser.

“Ties are a mandatory part of the uniform,” he comments. “Private school, after all.”

He’s not expecting a reaction. And if there was one, he’d have bet some money on it being Hyojin telling him to ‘fuck off and die’.

But instead, he looks up to see Hyojin staring at his hands in earnest, fiddling with the box. He almost seems meek, all hunched and body halfway inside the whiteboard unit.

“Lost it,” he says, so quietly that Ari has to put down his pen and ensure all of his attention is on the man across the room. “In the fight.”

Ari doesn’t have to question which ‘fight’ he’s referring to. Because, as far as he now knows, there’s only ever been…

One.

“You can get another one,” Ari offers with a smile that’s more often on his face than not. “At the admin office.”

Hyojin blinks at him. For a split second, his eyes gaze down at the smile Ari wears. “Y’have to pay for a new one.”

“Not if you have a note from the student president.”

At Hyojin’s furrowed brows, Ari smiles wider.

“I can write one up. Just show it to the admins, and they should provide you with a new tie, free of charge.”

There’s a pause as the offer hangs in the air between them, something glazing over in Hyojin’s eyes.

If Ari didn’t know any better, he’d think he just broke down one of the many walls hiding Hyojin Carys from the world.

“...Thanks.”

It’s as quiet as Hyojin’s presence is. But it makes Ari’s grin beam in the cold council room. It most certainly wasn’t the response he thought he would get, but there’s no chance in the world that he’s complaining.

From within the whiteboard, despite the lack of space, Hyojin still manages to reach back and play with the hair covering his neck. The first word that Ari thinks of is ‘bashful’—and he would say that, if he wasn’t still unsure about Hyojin’s murderous tendencies.

“My pleasure,” he says, pulling out a notepad from a shelf and writing out a request—two school-issued ties, just in case, for one Hyojin Carys. When he’s done, he pushes the paper across the desk, leaving it there.

Hyojin watches him from across the room, face neutral but eyes significantly less disgusted. “Y’know,” he starts with his voice still low, almost like he doesn’t use it often, “you’re not as bad as I thought you’d be.”

The compliment (if he can call it one) catches Ari off-guard. And he smiles. A genuine smile, leaning forward on the desk in the hopes that Hyojin can take it as amiability. “I could say the same about you.”

「 january 19 | friday | 11:11am 」

“Sorry,” Ari says, an apologetic smile painting his features. “I’m flattered, truly, but I’m not really interested in dating.”

The student beside him, standing just a few inches away from the table, nods their head and mutters a few last words before leaving with drooping shoulders, scuttling off into the rest of the students bumbling about the cafeteria.

When he turns back to his friends, Ari lets out a sigh.

From across the table, lounging on the leather booth, Lucio looks him up and down with a crooked grin, resting his chin on his hand. “Man. I’ll never see the appeal.”

The president rolls his eyes. He knows damn well what Lucio means. “The appeal of what,” he says, humouring his friend.

“ You, ” he answers. “I mean, I get you’re the textbook definition of a high school heartthrob, but—”

“Well, it definitely sounds like you get the appeal!” Amir juts in, laughing as they shove Lucio’s shoulder with his own and steals a string of licorice from Lucio’s lunch.

Ari lets himself smirk. “ Heartthrob, huh? Is that what you think of me, Luce?”

“Oh, shut up, you overgrown pool noodle,” he spits, stealing his half-eaten licorice piece back from Amir and throwing it into his own mouth. “You’re so annoying. And ugly. And undateable.”

Amir shrugs. “I think Ari is very dateable. In my humble opinion.”

“Oh, yeah? Go on and date him then.”

At Lucio’s pouting and sulking, Amir chortles and shoves his shoulder again. “Only you, boo, only you.”

“Don’t call me that,” Lucio groans, though his ears turn red.

“Would you rather snookums? Poo-bear? Gumdrop?”

“Is there an option for ‘none of the above’?”

As Amir and Lucio continue on their years-long game of will-they-won’t-they, Ari is left chuckling as something in the crowd catches his eye—or rather, the crowd does.

At the entrance of the cafeteria, all the way over by the northern hallway, the gathering of students parts in a modern mimicry of Moses and the Red Sea. It’s like something out of a movie.

But while it might be a nice thing to do for someone—hell, it’s happened for Ari a few times and he definitely appreciates it—when he sees the faces of the students, it’s anything but positive. They’re covered in detest, and fear, and hatred.

It’s not a pathway of respect; it’s a pathway of avoidance. And when Ari spots just who they’re parting for, it makes unfortunate sense.

In the middle of the crowd, in his three-sizes-too-big sweater, messy hair, black headphones, and cold gaze... is Hyojin.

He’s got his school bag, just barely hanging onto his left shoulder, his headphones are on, engulfed by his locks, and his face is blank and bored. And he’s still not wearing a tie.

The harsh reality slaps Ari in the face. He wonders how he didn’t notice it before.

Because no one dares to look him in the eye, Hyojin can’t look anyone in the eye either. Because no one approaches him, he doesn’t approach them. Because they treat him like an outcast… 

As Hyojin glances around the cafeteria from behind his bangs, Ari realises with a start why he was even in the council room yesterday.

He chose to be alone before he could be forced into it.

It takes a second for Ari to realise that Hyojin is looking straight at him, eyes locked from across the cafeteria filled with students too scared to block his vision. Ari nods, hoping on a thin thread that Hyojin will understand.

‘Go.’

Hyojin lowers his head a little—maybe a nod—before he pivots on his feet and stalks out of the cafeteria.

And to Ari, seeing Hyojin’s back opens his eyes. Strong, and solid, and confident. Beneath the oversized layers, it’s the back of someone he could learn to respect.

“-ri. Ari!”

“Huh?” He blinks, head snapping back to his friends. “Pardon?”

Amir cocks their head to the side. “I asked if you were okay. You zoned out.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” he laughs, quickly moving to pack up his container of fried rice. “Just remembered I’ve still got some forms to fill out, so I’m gonna go.”

“I could come with,” Amir offers. “I am vice, after all.”

“He’ll be fine,” Lucio answers for Ari, throwing the brunette a grin. “Go on.”

Ari pats his friend’s shoulder in thanks as he leaves, striding out of the cafeteria and exchanging quick pleasantries with the people who greet him along the way.

Much to his pleasure, when he unlocks and opens the door to the council room, Hyojin is already inside, sitting in the conversation pit in the middle of the room. Relief sags his shoulders when Hyojin glances over his shoulder and pulls his headphones down to his neck.

“At least you’re not in the whiteboard this time,” Ari laughs, closing the door behind him and placing his lunch onto the desk.

Hyojin hums. “Couch seemed comfier. Your window security is shit, by the way,” he says, pointing to the same window he’d climbed through from yesterday.

Leaning against the desk, crossing his arms and glancing over at the open window, Ari chuckles. “Well, it’s not like we anticipated people breaking in through them.”

There’s the mutual understanding of not mentioning the cafeteria, and Ari decides to bring up a different topic. He’s not sure why he’s so adamant about being friendly with Hyojin, but, well… Nothing bad can come out of friendship, right?

“You’re not wearing a tie,” he comments. “Did the note not work?”

Hyojin shakes his head, his black bangs following the movement. “Nah, it worked. It’s just…” He reaches into his bag, on the couch next to him, and pulls out the black school tie. 

He fiddles with the satin, running the long material between his fingers.

Through a mumble, barely even a whisper, he says, “I just…”

He trails off, but Ari understands the gist of it.

He doesn’t know how to tie one.

Ari’s not going to question it, nor is he going to judge. Instead, he clears his throat, uncrosses his arms and says, “Get up and come here.”

A moment of hesitation, before Hyojin turns his head with furrowed brows and stares up at the school president. “Huh?”

“Come here,” Ari repeats. “Take your sweater and headphones off. Please.”

Hyojin stares at him weirdly, hands defensively covering his chest. 

Ari rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to do anything weird with you, idiot. It’s not like I’m telling you to strip.”

“I mean… you kind of… are.”

Ari sighs. “Come here so I can teach you,” he says, nodding to the tie winding around Hyojin’s hands. “I’m just going to tie it for you this one time, alright?”

Though it takes a minute or two, Hyojin finally gets up, shucks off his headphones and sweater, and makes his way to the desk.

With Hyojin standing right in front of him, Ari can actually notice their height difference now. He’s significantly taller than Hyojin—though that’s how he is with a large majority of the student body—and somewhat broader, with the lack of Hyojin’s sweater.

For someone who supposedly lives a life of fighting, he’s not as bulky as Ari thought he’d be. 

“First and foremost,” he says, “button your shirt all the way up.”

Hyojin rolls his eyes at it, but obeys anyway. While he does that, Ari takes him by the shoulders and turns him around. He stands up, noticing even more so their height difference, and takes the tie that’s hanging on Hyojin’s arm.

“Learn by observation,” Ari tells him as he loops his arms over Hyojin’s shoulders, almost hugging him from behind.

There’s no response, but Ari takes that as a green light to continue.

Some part of Ari is sure that Hyojin’s isn’t one to appreciate the ol’ mansplaining, so he stays quiet while he ties Hyojin’s tie on him. He goes through the motions deliberately and delicately, a much slower version of something he’s used to doing every morning.

He ignores the sirens going off in the back of his mind—the part that still believes in those rumours of hospitals and loan sharks—and chooses to believe that Hyojin is actually paying attention to all this, and not… 

Well, plotting to murder him.

When he finishes the knot, happy with the perfection of it, he pivots Hyojin back around. He leans on the desk behind him again, tapping a finger against his jaw as he examines his work and choosing to ignore the look of loathing on Hyojin’s face.

His face, of which the majority of is still covered by his long curls. Ari can barely see those murderous eyes.

“One last thing,” he says aloud as a warning. And then he adds, “Please don’t hit me.”

He tries his best to be slow and gentle, but there’s no mistaking the way Hyojin’s jaw tenses when Ari reaches toward his face. Ari simply offers him a smile, praying Hyojin doesn’t uppercut him right then and there, and continues reaching for the bangs hanging over his eyes.

Brushing the black waves up and away, Ari finally sees Hyojin’s face in clear view. And, dammit, he’s definitely not into Hyojin—or anyone—like that, but he can sure appreciate it when a man is handsome.

And Hyojin…

Hyojin may be more than that.

Perfectly shaped brows, despite the frowning; perfectly shaped lips, despite the scowling; perfect nose bridge; perfect eyes; perfect jaw; perfect…

Ari clears his throat, moving his hand away and tucking it in as he crosses his arms. “You clean up well,” he says, not unkindly.

Hyojin just snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure,” he replies, very much unkindly. 

“No, I mean it.” 

The words escape him before he can help it, but that just means they’re all the more genuine. He’s a tad bit afraid of the response, but Hyojin doesn’t move to punch nor kick him. 

Instead, Hyojin lets out a bark of laughter, and pushes forward a step—moving into Ari’s space; his leg between Ari’s, resting on the desk; his nose almost touching Ari’s.

Ari has always been an observant man.

He doesn’t miss the way Hyojin’s eyes flick down to his lips, for just a split second.

Ari has also always been somewhat weak.

And so, he finds himself doing the same. And to his surprise—(pleasure? Fear? Disgust? Delight?)—Hyojin is smirking.

“Do you now?” Hyojin queries, though the way it rumbles out of his mouth sounds similar to a sneer. “What? You calling me pretty?”

Ari fears he may have broken too many walls with this guy. Before he can even stutter a reply out, Hyojin is already moving away from him and laughing. Ari lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

The bell for third period rings just as Hyojin collects his bag from the conversation pit.

What timing.

Hyojin hops over to the door, hair already falling down and covering his eyes again. With a hand on the door handle, Hyojin glances over his shoulder and Ari catches sight of a smirk.

“I’d tread carefully if I were you, prez,” Hyojin tells him.

He doesn’t know what it’s supposed to mean.

But something about the way Hyojin’s grin glints in the same way his jewellery does in the sunlight… it tells Ari not to question things.

“I didn’t know you knew how to use a door,” he mumbles—one of the more safe comments he has, out of the bank in his mind.

Hyojin laughs at that.

Ari feels it prickling the hair on his neck. 

“Thanks for the tie and shit.” Ari swears he sees a wink beneath those bangs. “It's been a pleasure meeting you, prez. Truly.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

Left alone in the council room, there is a prick that dances along his spine—a small voice in the back of his mind that tells him he’s just started something he might come to deeply, deeply regret.

[to be continued…]

Chapter Text

「 february 13 | tuesday | 3:42pm 」

It’s a lovely Tuesday afternoon, and school president Ari Astutia has just finished up all his leftover paperwork.

Days of reading paragraphs upon paragraphs; days of scribbling his approval on lines and arguing his rejections; days of settling all of the upcoming school events for the next few months. 

All done and dusted.

Ari is sitting in the conversation pit of the council room, lounging on one of the square-arranged couches simply because he can. He’s completed his work—he can now afford to laze around, to enjoy the merciful winter air and the serenity.

He sips on some coffee, warm in his ‘#1 President’ mug gifted to him by the rest of the council, and basks in the pure bliss of tranquillity.

There’s peace in the air, and some illusion of a rose tint. Babies around the world are laughing. Animals around the world are eating. Bees are pollinating and flowers are blooming. Life has never felt better… 

“Oh, pre~ez! ”

There it is.

Enter, The Troublemaker. 

Letting himself savour the fleeting moments of peace, Ari glances to his right—just in time to see the one and only Hyojin Carys wrenching open a window and hauling his body into the frame.

“How many times have we been over this,” Ari sighs, sliding his mug onto the coffee table and pinching his nose bridge. 

It’s been almost a month since the eventful whiteboard incident. A month since the school president met the school delinquent. A month of being “friends” with him. (A month of playing babysitter.)

A month of unwittingly volunteering himself to be on the receiving end of Hyojin’s unrelenting personality. 

While he may not be a delinquent, Ari has found that he sure can be a royal pain in the ass. There are no issues of him fighting random gangs behind alleyways, but there are the issues of him, for example, climbing in through the window.

“Must you always climb in through the window, Carys?”

“It’s fun, prez!” Hyojin laughs, tumbling in through the small gap in the glass panes and landing on his ass with a short, ‘oof.’

And, well. Ari’s not entirely annoyed by him, he supposes.

Hyojin gets back up on his feet with an unnecessarily extravagant flip of his body, and shakes his head like a dog to ‘fix’ his hair. “Not that you would know what that is,” he comments, reaching up to pull down his bangs over his eyes again.

Ari doesn’t even open his mouth to argue—not when he’s fully aware that his life consists of studying, working, and the occasional poem-writing. (Not that he’ll ever tell anyone that.)

As a torn-up school duffle bag gets thrown onto the couch across from him in the conversation pit, Ari watches Hyojin jump down and land amongst the pillows, just barely noticing that his tie is just hanging around his neck like an unfurled scarf.

He clicks his tongue. 

Then he gets up, rounds the table, plops down next to where Hyojin is lounging, and lets his hands automatically reach for Hyojin’s tie and start folding the fabric. “You’re still not wearing your tie properly,” he lectures.

Hyojin snorts at him, entirely too comfortable on a couch that belongs to a council he isn’t actually part of. “What’s the point?” he shrugs, tucking his hands behind his head and watching Ari finish the knot. “You go and fix it every day anyway.”

“Because your knots are always messy,” the president answers, frowning but satisfied with his own tying skills as he moves his hands away.

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re just a neat freak.”

“Maybe I just care about the school’s image.”

“ Maybe, ” he spits, swinging his legs around to drape them over Ari’s knees, “you should learn to care a little less.” From where he lays his head on a couch cushion, he pokes his tongue out.

Ari curses his past self for his kindness. Congratulations, he tells January-Ari. Now you’re a glorified punching bag. 

“Ooh, what’re these?” Hyojin pipes up, reaching forward to one short stack of papers littering the coffee table. He flips through a few pages, legs still lying on Ari’s knees, having no trouble making himself right at home.

The actual member of the council simply stares and sighs. Again. “They’re the plans for Valentine’s Day,” he explains, when he sees Hyojin furrow his brow at the planning jargon on the paper in his hands. 

He takes a moment to read a heading. “ ‘Cupid’s Messages’ ?” he asks, with nothing short of a scoff.

With an easy lift and manoeuvre to get Hyojin’s legs off of his, Ari gets up and collects his mug—moving out of the pit and to the kitchenette on the side of the room to clean up. “Amir suggested it,” he elaborates while cleaning. “People can submit a donation to a fundraiser in exchange for a note, small gift, or a delivery of their own gift—to the locker of a person of their choice.”

Hyojin hums. “So that’s what those stalls all over school today were for.”

“Indeed,” the president confirms, drying up and shoving his ass back into a comfortable couch, next to Hyojin. “The rest of the council is delivering those gifts right now. It’s why I have the room to myself.”

He glances over at the nuisance named Hyojin Carys.

“Well, had it to myself,” he mumbles.

Hyojin snorts. Ari doesn’t miss the grin on his face. “And? Why aren’t you off helping your little posse?”

“Council,” Ari corrects, though he barely has the energy for it. Before he can stop himself, he’s rolled his eyes. “And because I don’t want to.”

“ Oho! ” comes Hyojin’s voice next to him, entirely too enthusiastic for someone who looks like they need twenty years of sleep. “You look annoyed! ” He laughs, smile curling up at the corners like some sick parody of the Chesire Cat. “What a fuckin’ sight.”

A guttural groan vibrates Ari’s throat, covering his face with his hands to hide from the world. “Please stop,” he mumbles.

“Not a chance,” Hyojin replies. “So. C’mon. What’s got your knickers in a twist, huh? Some traumatic Valentine’s experience with an ex? A night of crying, remembering how lonely and miserable you are? A—”

“It’s a pain.”

The answer, somehow, gets Hyojin to stop. Behind black bangs, Ari sees Hyojin’s eyes light up. “Do tell.”

Ari pouts. “You’re going to insult me for it.”

“Me? Make fun of you? Never!” The snickering truly does prove his point. Hyojin drops the papers back on the table, turning his attention to the man next to him, who would much rather not have said attention on him. “Spill.”

“Drop it, Carys.”

“Spill, or I punch you.”

Ari’s not taking his chances—not when Hyojin smiles like that. “Fine,” he groans. “Valentine’s is a pain because of how many gifts I receive, is that what you want to hear?”

A loud bark of laughter shoots through his ears, and he rolls his eyes at the man losing his shit next to him. Hyojin Carys, man of myth and man of fear, is howling with laughter on Ari’s couch. Ari wonders what karmic response this is. “I can’t believe this,” Hyojin wheezes out.

“Yes, hardy-har. Do continue laughing at my troubles, please.”

Hyojin does just that. In-between his chortling, he takes breaths and slaps Ari on the back. “Y’know, some people would kill for Valentine’s shit—and here you are, complaining!” He laughs again, holding his face in his hand. 

Taking Hyojin’s hand off his shoulder, Ari rolls his eyes for what feels like the fiftieth time this afternoon. On the wall, he catches sight of the time. “You should probably leave,” he says, ignoring the giggles still coming out of Hyojin’s mouth. “Before my council comes back.”

With a sigh, finally finished laughing, Hyojin gets up. “Hope you get a shit-ton of confessions tomorrow,” he says as he collects his things. “Just to hammer it all in.”

As he watches Hyojin throw one leg over the window frame, Ari shakes his head. “You don’t have to hope; it’ll happen. But, trust me, it’ll be… ugh.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Hyojin scoffs. “How bad could it be?”

「 february 14 | wednesday | 7:50am 」

“Holy shit. It’s bad. ”

When Hyojin meets him in front of his locker, Ari doesn’t even have the energy to question why he’s wearing a leather jacket on top of his uniform.

They’re standing a foot or so away from the actual locker space—a pile of wrapped boxes and fluffy plushies and envelopes with hearts on them spreading galore and spilling out of his open locker.

It floods out of the tall box in a show of pinks and reds and whites. It’s almost poetic.

“It’s tamer than last year,” Ari notes.

“ Tamer? ” Hyojin scoffs, brows (probably) raised behind those locks. “Prez, this looks like a Netflix rom-com threw up in your locker.” He leans down, picking up a purple teddy bear by his feet. It has a bow tied to it, with a heart-shaped charm. “Cute. Think I’ll name it ‘nuisance number one.’” he chuckles, dropping it unceremoniously.

Ari crouches down and pulls the bear into his own grasp, dusting off any dirt from the ground. There’s a small card tied to the charm—it reads, Thank you for making me smile. He grins. “It’s not all horrible. Little pockets of happiness make up for the chaos in the grand scheme of things, I suppose.”

He gets a snort in response. He expected nothing less.

Then he stands back up to his full height, glances at his overflowing locker of Valentine’s gifts, and sighs.

“Little pockets of happiness,” Hyojin whistles, chuckling. “Right, prez?”

Ari ignores him, pulling open one of the many duffel bags he’d brought from home, kneeling down, and packing all of the gifts in.

“Ahh,” Hyojin voices from where he stands, watching the president on one knee. “So that’s why you told me to come early, huh? To help you carry all this shit back to your car?”

“Well,” Ari grunts, packing in a particularly heavy box that he isn’t too curious about, “I’ve done this trip by myself every year, but…” He stops, looking up into what little bits of Hyojin’s eyes he can see, and showcasing that award-winning smile. “If you insist… ”

With a snort, and probably a roll of his eyes, and almost undoubtedly a few muttered sarcastic comments, Hyojin steals a duffel bag from Ari’s pile and starts throwing gifts in with about as much care as a hormonal teenager at a house party.

“Wow.” Ari blinks at the man crouched next to him. “Didn’t think that would work.”

Any lingering snark stays in a lump in his throat when he watches Hyojin reach up and push his hair back from his forehead, reminding Ari of that all-too-perfect face of his. When he tucks a few strands of his locks behind his ear, Ari gets a front-row seat to the piercings he’s caught a glimpse of every now and again.

Just on his right ear alone, he’s got what Ari counts as four piercings on his lobe. And then another three, up at the helix—one of them belonging to an entire bar going across the ear in what Ari thinks he remembers being called ‘industrial’.

Ari’s not blind to the world. He’s seen piercings. And he knows that Hyojin Carys’—they’re messy. And the spaces between them are uneven. Almost like he’d done them himself.

“Stop staring,” Hyojin says simply. He doesn’t stop packing gifts. “I know I’ve got bulging muscles and all, but keep it in your boxers, alright?”

Ari clears his throat, averting his gaze and continuing to shove gifts into his bag. “I wasn’t staring.”

Hyojin laughs at him. “Sure you weren’t.”

「 february 14 | wednesday | 8:32am 」

AP Literature has just started, and Ari is already staring up at someone standing in front of his desk, holding a box of what seems to be homemade chocolates.

They mumble a few words about admiring him, ever since sophomore year, and that they’d finally worked up the courage—to ask him out.

“Ah…” A sheepish hand winds its way to his nape, and he rubs the back of his neck. He hopes it comes off as friendly and regretful, despite what he’s about to say. “Sorry. I appreciate it, really, but… I’m not interested in dating at the moment.”

Years of rejecting people, and he’s still not used to seeing the way their shoulders slump in the face of dismissal. “Th-That’s okay,” they stammer, hiding the chocolates behind them and shuffling back ever so slightly. “Just thought I’d take my chances.”

“Yeah…” Ari offers an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

「 february 14 | wednesday | 9:29am 」

Someone stops him as he’s about to walk into his second-period class, one foot on the threshold of the door, with, “Ari! Hey! Got a second?”

He’s too used to not saying ‘no’. “Sure!” he answers, moving away from the entrance to let other students in. “What’s up?”

The student—who he recognises from the class across the hall—throws a hand onto his shoulder in an air of familiarity. He’d think it friendly, if he didn’t know exactly what’s about to come. “I was just wondering if you’re, like, free this weekend?”

“Oh…” He’s about to apologise, again, but they interrupt him before he can.

“I get that you’re not the dating-type, trust me. It’s like, known across the school—but it wouldn’t hurt, right? You don’t even have to think of it as a date! Just… hanging out with me. We could maybe watch a movie, like, casually? Or—”

Ari holds a hand before his face, apologising with his eyes. “I’m afraid I’ll have to turn you down, sorry. I’m flattered for the offer, and it does sound fun, but…”

They take their hand off his shoulder. “No good, huh?” they ask, melancholic smile plastered on their features.

He really does feel bad, sometimes. Especially when he knows sincerity when he sees it. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

The other student waves it off with a friendly smile. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“...Mhm.”

「 february 14 | 10:01am 」

Halfway through the lesson, Ari feels a tap on his shoulder from the person sitting behind him. He knows exactly who it is.

Turning in the chair to give them his full attention, he throws on a polite smile. “Yes?”

They’re nonchalant, always have been. Face resting in one of their hands, the other holding out a block of white chocolate. “How ‘bout this year?” they ask.

Ari subtly pushes the chocolate back. “Still a no, sorry.”

They shrug, pulling back the chocolate. “At least you’re consistent.”

“As are you,” Ari chuckles. “Sorry again.”

When they don’t answer, Ari just turns back to the front and continues listening to the teacher.

「 february 14 | 10:31am 」

“Hey, president Ari!”

It’s a freshman, this time, that approaches him. Sirens blast off in his head before they even make it to him in the middle of the cafeteria.

A small bouquet of flowers is shoved into his hands before he can even protest. “These are for you!”

“Oh!” He chuckles nervously, looking down at the young and excited smile on his underclassman. “Uh— Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

The freshman blushes. “Um. So—”

Ari clears his throat. “Ah, sorry, but… if this is an expression of interest, related to romance, then… I might have to return these.”

They shake their head profusely. “No, no, sorry! That’s okay! I mean… I won’t lie, so, yes, but— but I’m not expecting an answer or anything! I just— I— You— Okay, bye! ”

And they’re gone.

「 february 14 | 10:45am 」

“Yo, Ari! I— Oh.”

He’s on his way to his lunch table when another student comes up to him, with another bouquet. He looks down at the one already in his hand, from the freshman, and chuckles. “Sorry. Guess flowers are a pretty popular gift nowadays.”

“Mine are better,” they mumble, holding them out for Ari to take.

“Oh…” Ari shuffles the items in his hand, praying he doesn’t drop his lunch, and takes the slightly larger bouquet. “...Thanks.”

“I like you,” they state simply. “Romantically.”

Ari restrains himself from sighing. “I acknowledge your feelings, and I appreciate them, but I’m not interested in dating right now. Sorry about that.”

The junior, if he remembers correctly, barely even blinks. “Right now.”

“...Sorry?”

“You said you’re not interested ‘right now’. And you’re not dating anyone currently, so it’s not like you’re committed.” They shrug, stuffing their hands into the pockets of their varsity jacket. “I’m willing to wait.”

Ah, Ari thinks, they’re that type. He bows his head. “I’ve never really been one to date, actually. And I’m not planning on dating in high school, so, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to decline your feelings.”

They bite their lip at this, finally breaking eye contact and sighing. “Alright,” they say, though Ari can see the dissatisfaction in their face.

“Sorry again,” he says, before walking past them, feeling much less than sorry.

「 february 14 | 11:08am 」

With a mouthful of noodles in his mouth, Ari’s attention gets called by a student standing at the side of his table. “Hiya, Ari!”

He swallows down his food as best he can without choking. “Hi! Hello. Can I help you?”

“Oh, I mean… Um.” They bring their hands forward, revealing a box of chocolate-covered strawberries. “I just wanted to give these to you. I admire you a lot, and just wanted to do something special. And what better day to do it than Valentine’s, right?”

On the other side of the table, Ari sees Lucio watching him with considerate eyes. “Thank you,” Ari says, though he doesn’t reach for the box. “But I don’t think I can accept these—”

“I—It’s not a confession!” the student shouts, face going red. “Just a— Just wanted to give them to you.” They drop the box onto the lunch table, and trip backward.

Ari catches them before they fall, cautious of where his hands land on their back. Before he can ask if they’re okay, they’re scrambling out of his grasp and running away. He watches them go.

When he inspects the box, there’s a card with a heart on the front. He sighs.

「 11:55am 」

Another freshman. This time interrupting chemistry class with an extravagant confession at the front of the room.

Ari ushers them out of the classroom before it gets worse, apologising to his classmates on the way. Just outside, he lets them down gently but firmly. They’re a fighter.

“Sorry, but I can’t reciprocate your feelings—”

“Just one date! Just one! I promise, it’ll be—”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I’m sorry, but I really—”

“But—”

When Ari finally gets back to the class, the flask on his bench is foaming with bubbles. Just as the cherry-on-top.

「 12:16pm 」

“—I know you’re not interested, but I just had to get it off my chest. It’s our senior year, after all. No other chance.”

“Yeah,” Ari nods. “Yeah, I understand. Thanks, and… sorry, again.”

“Don’t be.” His classmate sighs. “I do wish I could’ve taken you out, though. Just once.”

“...Sorry.”

「 1:11pm 」

“—what, are you dating someone alre—”  

“That’s not the reason I’m uninterested. Listen, I’m sorry I can’t go out with you, and I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not looking to date anyone , end of story.” 

“Why—” 

「 2:40pm 」

“—very flattered, but I’m just not interested in anyone romantically, and I don’t have plans to date—”  

「 3:03pm 」

“—am sorry. I’m sure you’re a great person, and I appreciate the gift, however—” 

「 3:10pm 」

“—eally sorry, but I’m not looking to date. And I have to go take care of something for the council right now, so, I’m sorry, but I—” 

「 3:40pm 」

“Am dead. I’m dead. I’m dying.”

“Yeah?” Hyojin answers from the pit, raising a brow at Ari lying his head on the desk at the other side of the room. “Want me to put you out of your misery?”

The only response Ari can muster is a guttural, drawn-out groan.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Hyojin says, lacking any sort of emotion. “Don’t worry, it’ll be slow and painful—I’ll make sure of it.”

Ari doesn’t even bless him with a groan this time.

“Well, maybe you’re into that. Nerds are always the kinkiest ones.”

“Okay, enough. Please, Carys,” Ari begs, finally lifting his head, only to rest it in his hands, head still heavy with a migraine from the day. “For today, I ask that you cease your impertinence.”

When Hyojin chuckles, Ari wonders what he expected. “Wow, busting out the formal speech? You’re really puffed, huh.”

Ari doesn’t answer. Instead, he just barely opens his eyes to stare at the desk below him through eyes so glassy and blurry that he feels like he’s in a pool. It almost burns like chlorine, too.

He hears footsteps approaching him, and looks up just in time to see Hyojin in front of his desk, leaning down to be eye-level with him. Well, as eye-level you could be with someone with a head of hair covering their eyes.

“What?” he mumbles, surprised to hear his voice quieter than he’d intended.

“Nothin’,” Hyojin shrugs. “You just look like shit, and it’s funny to me, is all.”

Ari sighs. “You’ve got such a way with words.”

Another one of those signature snorts escapes him—teasing, a little demeaning, but friendly all the same—before he turns, and hops on Ari’s desk.

The president can’t even argue against having Hyojin plop his ass on the wood—he hasn’t got the energy for it. All he can do is rest his chin in his hands, look up at Hyojin a few inches away from him, and pray he doesn’t knock the fuck out right then and there.

“I think I get it now,” Hyojin says, playing with his tie. “All your bitching from yesterday.”

Ari hums. “It wasn’t always this bad for me,” he admits. He stares off into the distance, vision blurry and unfocused as he lets his mouth rant. “At first, I was really grateful, and even genuinely flattered. But over time, it just…”

He sighs, dropping his head and burying it into his arms on the desk.

“...It got tiring. Being nice to all of them. Being expected to reciprocate feelings and give people the time of day, even when I made it clear that I have no interest in dating. And sometimes, some of them, they just— they go too far. And if I’m being honest, I’m sick of it. I’ve outright said, multiple times, that I’m not looking to date, but they just keep taking it as a ‘but I’m the right one for you! You’ve just been waiting for me! ’ and—”

He doesn’t realise he’s gotten worked up until he raises his head and is met with Hyojin’s gaze head-on. With his hand in his hair, pushing it back, Hyojin is giving Ari his undivided attention.

With a stuttering sigh, Ari rubs his eyes with his palms. “I’m just tired,” he mumbles.

Hyojin’s shoulders bounce with a huff of laughter, turning away. Ari tries his best to be nonchalant when he rests his cheek on his fist and stares at Hyojin’s handsome side-profile.

It’s a shame he keeps his face so hidden, all the time.

“Want me to beat them up?”

The question just barely registers in Ari’s brain, and he’s up on reflex. “ No! God, no. No violence, please, I beg of you.”

Weeks of acquaintanceship has shown Ari that while Hyojin isn’t a feared mafia boss, he’s still not quite above using his fists to get his way or prove his point—that fight at the beginning of the school year being just one of those instances.

Ari’s still not fully certain what happened, back then. But he’ll get around to asking when his head isn’t pounding.

“Boo,” Hyojin comments, swinging off of Ari’s desk and meandering over to the conversation pit as per usual, with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his sweater engulfing his body. “You’re boring.”

“They don’t deserve getting their faces pummelled by your fists, Carys.” Ari follows suit, deciding his migraine will probably be taken care of better by couch cushions rather than a desk. “They’re just…”

He lays down, bones relaxing when his body hits the couch. A sigh is pushed out of his lungs, and he swears he hears Hyojin snort again from the other side of the pit.

Trying to avoid the sunlight streaming in from the window, he covers his eyes with an arm. He really shouldn’t be lying on a couch with a blazer on—it’ll most definitely create some unwanted creases—but… well, he’s too exhausted to care.

“They’re what?” Hyojin prompts.

“...People are annoying sometimes,” Ari mumbles.

“All the time.”

A chuckle. “All the time,” he agrees.

There’s a little irony, Ari feels, at this being something they vehemently agree on—despite their being on completely different ends of the social spectrum. But part of him is entirely too thankful for it.

Getting along with Hyojin Carys was easy.

Who knew.

「 5:01pm 」

Here’s cold, hard evidence that Hyojin Carys isn’t a juvenile delinquent: if he was, school president Ari’s face would have sharpie all over it by now. Or something worse.

But it’s been about an hour since Ari fell asleep on the couch, and all Hyojin has done is respect him and his exhaustion.

...Okay, he might’ve taken a few photos for (blackmail) safekeeping (definitely blackmail)—he’s not a fucking saint, okay?

He’s not Ari.

Speaking of…

Hyojin walks back into the conversation pit, leaving the bookshelf behind Ari’s desk, and seats himself on the couch across from the president. The thought of waking the man up has occurred to him, briefly, but he thinks after the day he’s had, he deserves to rest.

He’s not sure if Ari’s allowed to be sleeping, considering his apparently very busy schedule, but the least Hyojin can do is let him rest for now. If there are consequences, well, he can deal with those later.

Part of him is sure that if Ari did have something important on, he wouldn’t let himself fall asleep like an idiot.

Or maybe he would. A lot about him screams ‘stupid’ to Hyojin.

About the same amount that screams ‘stupidly kind’.

He supposes he’s thankful to the man. In some small, almost insignificant way. If it weren’t for him, Hyojin probably would’ve spent his entire senior year being feared by the students, and being reprimanded by the staff.

Not that he was opposed to living like that.

He guesses it was his fault, for letting that fight back in September get out of hand. But the cunts deserved what was coming for them, so it’s not like he has regrets. He’s fine with being treated like an outsider. 

It’s not ideal, and he’d definitely appreciate at least some form of contact with people, but it’s fine.

Well, it was.

Until Ari came skipping along with his unrelenting positivity. Until Ari came along, and was entirely too entertaining for Hyojin to leave alone. And now—now, Hyojin is craving attention too much for his own good.

He wants to be able to tease Ari in public; wants to see that exasperated expression on his face and be able to poke and prod with the company of others; wants to walk next to Ari in the hallways of the school.

Wants to not be Ari’s dirty little secret.

An odd way of putting it, considering the true nature of their supposed friendship, but Hyojin likes the stupid sound of it, so he decides to keep calling it that. He’s Ari’s dirty little secret.

How funny.

When Hyojin’s mind drags him back to reality, and out of his mind-space, he’s met with a pair of striking golden eyes staring him in the soul, and he nearly falls off the damn couch with a, “Jesus fuckin—”

“Carys?” His voice is gravelly and huskily low from sleep; his eyes are unfocused, and his usually well-kept hair is all over the place.

“Yeah. Mornin’, prez.” Hyojin rolls his eyes and grounds himself. “Nice bedhead. By the way, you gotta stop that staring problem of yours, seriously, it’s—”

Ari sits up, eyes awake and wide in what Hyojin is too afraid to ask about. “Carys…”

“Astutia,” Hyojin replies, in a stupid game of call-and-response, idly cracking his knuckles. “The fuck’s your point here?”

“Carys.” 

Fucking christ, Hyojin is gonna murder this fuckwit.

“You’re an outcast, right?”

Oh, he’s really gonna murder him. “Thanks. Fuck you too, I guess.”

“And I need to be out of the dating pool,” Ari continues, completely ignoring Hyojin’s responses. He’s leaning forward now, elbows on his knees and face way too serious to match the absolutely horrendous-looking bird nest on his fucking head.

“What are you on about, prez?”

When Hyojin catches sight of Ari’s face, and the stupidly wide grin spreading across it, there’s a brief siren in Hyojin’s head that screams, oh no.

Because whatever he’s thinking…

It can’t be good.

[to be continued...]

Chapter Text

「 february 14 | wednesday | 5:05pm 」

“What kind of fucked-up solu—”

“It is a solution, Carys, and the only easy way out that I can think o—”

“I thought you were supposed to be smart, prez, but this—”

“ This could work! It would get my pursuers off of my back, and it will get you a senior year of privile—”

“I don’t care if it lets me have tea with the goddamn Queen , it’s still—”

“No one would dare harass you. No one would dare ostracise you— not when you have my vouch, much less my affections—”

“Please, for the love of everything under the fucking sun, stop talking like you’re a character from ‘Bridgerton’ before I rip my fucking hair out—”

“Carys.”

After however many minutes of yelling it’s been, the two finally take a breather. Ari stops in his tracks, pacing across the space just in front of the whiteboard, and Hyojin watches him from where he sits on Ari’s desk, across the room. 

The president sighs, loosening his tie. He’d lost his blazer in the heat of the conversation, lying on the coffee table, and his hair is still as frazzled as it had been when he woke up.

Hyojin just crosses his arms and watches him.

“Please,” Ari says, voice significantly less intense. “At least consider it.”

“Fuckin—” Hyojin groans, running a hand across his tired face. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “...Pretending to date, prez?”

Said out loud again, the idea seems even stupider. Ari stands his ground, mouth set in a hard line in that usual Perfect President nature of his.

“Really?” Hyojin asks, exasperated beyond his limits. “Do you even understand what kind of thing you’re offering? What— What kind of game you’re playing?”

“I do. And I’m undoubtedly for it,” Ari says. Hyojin hates that he can tell he’s genuine. “What about you?”

If Hyojin smoked, he reckons he’d be craving a puff of one right about now. Instead, all he can do is sigh even harder and pull a fist through his hair. “It’s a dumb fucking move, prez. I mean— us? Dating? Who’d even—”

“They’ll—”

“Every interaction we’ve ever had has been a secret.” It’s a little bit of a low blow, but he lets it slip anyway. “Why do you think that is?” 

He stares Ari down, right into those Golden Boy eyes. He’s not sure if he’s happy or annoyed to see no change in demeanour. 

“As far as everyone else is concerned, you have been trying your fucking best to get me expelled from this shithole.” It’s harsh, sure, but he needs Ari to understand just what he’s signing up for. Just how outrageous it really is. “So why would they ever believe that we’re dating?”

Ari’s jaw tightens enough for Hyojin to spot it, and those famed “perfect” pink lips set into an even harder line, if it were possible. Hyojin watches the cogs turn in Ari’s head.

They’re left there, in tense silence, until Ari lets himself relax with a slow exhale.

“They don’t have to,” he mutters out eventually.

Hyojin blinks. “What—”

“Not at first,” Ari clarifies. “Not for a while.”

Alright, so, they’re up to bargaining now.

Fine.

Hyojin can listen to reason.

“But we plant the seed,” the president continues, “and we let it grow. We show hints, we drop the bomb, and then we let it unfold by itself.”

He starts pacing again, though slower and more considerate than the last time he had.

“It’s almost guaranteed that there’ll be people who don’t believe it, and won’t ever believe it, but that’s a minority. We can fool the rest. What are they going to do, tell us to our faces that our relationship is fake? As far as they know, and as far as they will ever know, this relationship will be as real as my 4.0 GPA.”

Somehow, in some inexplicable way, Hyojin is actually listening to the plan. No, no, he’s not just listening to it—he’s actually considering it.

Christ, what has this guy done to him?

He stares down at his palms, weighing the situation and the plan in his head. “This might possibly be the stupidest idea you’ve ever had,” he tells Ari. “And I remember when you fucking pitched Froyo Fridays. ”

“Hey, I still think that should’ve—”

They both sigh at the same time. There’s been far too many sighs today—especially for Valentine’s Day. Isn’t it supposed to be all smiles and love and disgustingly fond happiness?

And yet.

There’s a significant amount of silence between them, as Hyojin figures himself out and Ari waits for an answer. At one point, Ari gets tired of waiting.

Hyojin is looking him in the eyes when he asks, finally, “Do you accept this deal, or not, Carys?”

Fuck.

He can’t believe he’s about to do this.

He really can’t believe he’s about to do this.

“Fine,” Hyojin says. “I accept.”

「 5:11pm 」

“Okay, so, for the first week, we don’t answer any questions.”

If Hyojin wasn’t already dreading this plan, he definitely is now. He’s sitting on the couch, scowl on his face, as he watches president Ari write up outlines and plans on the whiteboard.

Outlines and plans about the two of them pretending to date.

What has the world come to?

“We don’t announce anything,” Ari continues, making notes with a blue marker. “We just drop a few hints, we let the rumour mill do its job, and if someone asks about it, we play dumb.”

With a roll of his eyes, Hyojin comments, “Ah, yes, because so many people will just be dying to come up and talk to me, let alone ask about my love life. Because I’m such a big fuckin’ social butterfly, y’know?”

Ari ignores him, much too focused on his dumb little scribbles on the board.

“What about your parents?” Hyojin pipes up, half of his brain still wondering if he’s actually discussing this shit.

“Oh, my moms will be fine with it,” Ari says, waving it off. “Actually, they’ve been pestering me about dating someone for a while now, so if anything, they’ll be ecstatic. What about yours?”

“Don’t have any.”

“...Oh.”

“Don’t make it a thing,” Hyojin warns.

There’s not even a moment of hesitation before Ari nods and moves on. Hyojin thinks that’s part of the reason why he’s such a good president. But don’t tell Ari that he thinks that, or Hyojin might actually end up with a hefty criminal record.

Ari continues writing on the board, and Hyojin reads just what stupidity he’s written: little ploys; actions that will get them the attention they need, but nothing overboard.

Using his incredibly intuitive observation skills, and totally not just the glaringly oblivious signs in front of him, Hyojin comments, “You’ve never actually been in a relationship before… have you, prez?”

“I have!” The answer comes too quickly and loudly to be real. Hyojin barely hides his laugher, the amusement only increasing when Ari whips his head around and his cheeks are dusted in red.

“Y’sure about that?”

Ari scowls—and if that isn’t one of the best expressions Hyojin has seen in a long time, then— “...Was it really that obvious?” the president asks in a mumble, lips pursed.

“Yup.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “Yes. I’ve never been in a relationship before, laugh it up. I dedicate my time to study, sport, and the homelife, not frolicking about a field holding hands with someone.”

“ Ha! ” It’s an involuntary laugh, though Hyojin doesn’t hide the remnants of it, clutching his sides. “Is that what you think dating is?”

Ari narrows his eyes. “...Is it not?”

“Holy fuck,” is all Hyojin can say in response, with a shit-eating grin spread across his face. 

This might be more fun than he initially thought.

And when he catches sight of Ari’s flustered face, mouth twitching at the corner and ears bright red, he thinks:

Oho. Oh, no, this —this is going to be so much more fun than he initially thought. He’s actually on board with this idea now.

Think about it: the chance that he’s been looking for. To be in public with Ari, free to tease and prod all he wants, all under the guise of ‘dating’. And best of all— Ari was the one to suggest it.

Oh, yeah.

Hyojin definitely likes this idea now.

“Give me your address,” Ari says, seemingly finished with his notes on the board and with being embarrassed. (A real shame. He looks good with his face all red like that.)

“Why?” Hyojin chuckles, snuggling into the couch under him, significantly more comfortable with this whole situation. “So you can stalk me?”

Ari huffs. “So I can pick you up.”

“...Pick me up.”

“Tomorrow, 8:20 sharp,” Ari states tightening up his tie back to that president image. “We arrive together in my car.”

Putting his feet up on the table, Hyojin hums. “Why not on my bike?”

“You cycle to school?” Ari sputters, brows raised.

Hyojin chortles, head thrown back into the couch. “Wrong ‘bike’, prez.”

A blink, followed by wide eyes, and then, “you ride a motorcycle?! ”

“Ding-ding-ding,” Hyojin mumbles, trying to hide the shudder of his shoulders as he laughs at the reaction.

“That—” Ari seems speechless, and it’s very amusing. “That’s against school rules.”

Hyojin rolls his eyes, but nothing hides the laughing hum that escapes his mouth. “Oh, bite me.”

He watches Ari blink, gather himself, stand up straight, and then clear his throat, like he’s all fine and dandy. “I’ll keep your motorcycle a secret, Carys, if you do this ploy with me tomorrow.”

“ Blackmail? ” Hyojin shouts with a howling laugh, not believing his ears. 

In truth, he really doesn’t feel threatened (it’s Ari, after all)—he’s kept his bike hidden from the school for this long, and an insincere threat from the president isn’t going to change that.

“From the president, no less,” he muses, stomach hurting from the pure entertainment of the evening. “I feel honoured!”

Ari just scowls at him, though it comes off as more pouting than anything.

“Aw, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” Hyojin croons, having too much fun for his own good. “Can’t handle your own boyfriend?”

“We arrive to school together,” Ari says, final and flat.

And, well... Hyojin isn’t going to argue with that.

「 february 15 | thursday | 8:02am 」

At an hour entirely too early for Hyojin to be functioning, Ari shows up to his apartment holding a bagel, a tray of two coffees, and a stupidly bright smile.

Part of his consciousness tells him to actually throw the guy out the window.

“You’re not dressed,” he says.

Hyojin wants to punch his stupid handsome face. “It’s too fucking early,” he responds, not even bothering to heighten the volume nor tone of his voice.

He’d downright fucking crawled his way out of his bed to buzz Ari up, and he is not about to turn into a ray of sunshine for a dumb, tall brunette kid showing up at his door with a laughably cliche breakfast.

“I think I get why you always show up to school halfway through lunch now,” Ari comments with a lilted laugh. “You are definitely not a morning person.”

“Never been one,” Hyojin growls back. “Sure as hell won’t start now.”

“Well?”

“Well what. ”

Ari grins, offering up that dumb fucking tray of coffee. “Are you going to let me in?”

Hyojin slams the door in his face.

「 8:14am 」

Never in his nineteen years of existence did Hyojin think he would be hitching a ride with the school president. Not to mention all the intentions behind it.

But he’s not one to dwell.

“Alright, so,” Ari says, continuing his run-down of what’s going to happen today. “We can show the students that, at the very least, we’re acquainted. We know each other.”

Hyojin hums, watching the streets go by through the window as he sips on the latte Ari got him. “So no more being your little secret,” he mumbles.

“That’s a strange way of putting it. You were never my—” Ari clears his throat. “Well, anyway. We can show people we’re friends.”

“We’re friends?”

“Work with me here, Carys, please.”

Hyojin chuckles, low and amused. “Yeah, yeah. I get the gist.”

With only a few turns left to school, Ari straightens his spine as best he can while driving. “And smile,” he tells Hyojin. “Remember to smile.”

“Unless you want me to traumatise some freshman, you’ll leave me and my facial expressions be.”

He glances over to be met with a very much ‘I’m so fucking done with you’ face from Ari, and he nearly loses it. It’s a pout, and furrowed brows, and a side-eye. It’s definitely in the Top Ten Ari Faces for him.

“ Smile, ” Hyojin teases.

Ari rolls his eyes.

Yeah. If Hyojin is going to be part of this little game… he’s going to make it fun.

「 8:19am 」

First period starts in eleven minutes, and Ari isn’t at school yet. Amir finds this strange. Very, very strange.

They turn at the chipper voice of the one and only Maki Hino calling them, having just arrived at school in his black Wrangler.

“Mi-mi-mir!” He’s still swinging the keys around his finger when he throws an arm around Amir. 

“Ma-ma-maki!” Amir laughs as a greeting, throwing an arm around their friend to match the energy. “What’s up, what’s up?”

“My stress levels,” he sighs, cradling his head into the crook of Amir's neck for comfort, pretending to let out a broken sob. At the entrance of the school, lingering about the parking lot, he lifts his head and scans through the crowd of students flooding in. “Yo, where’s Ari at? You two are always together before school, in your little council huddle.”

Amir can’t even deny it, because it’s unfortunately true. For the entire four years they’d been on the council together, President and Vice or not, they’d always have a little conversation just before school.

Sometimes it was about council work. Other times, just life stuff. But Ari had never missed one; not even once.

They sigh, though it’s not one of concern. They're sure Ari’s not in any real trouble. “I actually don’t know,” they admit. Maki raises a brow; Amir shrugs. “Maybe he had a rager last night; still in bed with a hangover.”

“Ha!” Maki swings the two of them around, strolling closer to the entrance with a chortle. “Dude, if Ari gets wasted, pigs will start flying. He's so out of the scene, I’d be surprised if he knew the difference between vodka and tequila.”

Amir is inclined to agree and let it go, they're sure Ari has a reasonable excuse, but right before they walk into the hallway, they catch sight of Ari’s silver car rolling into the lot.

And by the looks of that perfect reverse-park, it’s definitely the expected man of the hour.

Moving to the side, so they’re not right in the middle of the entrance, Amir and Maki watch Ari pull into his designated parking spot, and…

Now hang on a second.

That—

That’s Hyojin Carys in the passenger seat.

That’s Hyojin Carys hopping out…

Of Ari’s car.

... Hyojin Carys?

「 8:20am 」

Hyojin has had eyes on him before, has felt the pressure of thousands of pairs watching his move, but this moment might take the cake.

With only ten minutes to class, Ari has timed their entrance perfectly—the majority of students are still milling about the entrance, making their way inside. And damn near all of them have stopped in their tracks to watch Hyojin get out of Ari’s car.

In his peripheral, he can see Ari plaster on that strained “president” smile of his. Hyojin can’t stand that smile.

From where he stays, leaning on the hood of his car, Ari watches Hyojin stalk off into the school building with his usual crowd-clearing aura.

Guess that’s enough attention for today, he supposes. Not that it’ll stop—now that they’ve done this, there’s pretty much no going back.

He doesn’t think Hyojin is going to be bombarded with questions today, but he certainly will. And Hyojin will at least be catching attention for reasons other than his notoriety.

Ari hopes it’ll all be positive.

Fortunately, he breaks out of his stupor quick enough to notice Amir marching up to him. At the entrance of the school, he thinks he sees Maki cast a glance at them, then turn and walk in.

“Dude,” Amir says, as a greeting. “What the hell?”

“Good morning to you too, Amir,” Ari chuckles, acting as casual as humanely possible whilst leaning on his car. Acting like nothing is out of the ordinary.

Amir cocks their head. “Why’d you— Why did Hyojin Carys just come out of your car?”

Another student pipes into the conversation, unwarranted, though Ari is used to that happening. “Did you find him on the side of the street and take pity, or something?”

“What kind of charity case—”

Ari interrupts the second unwelcome student’s comment with a raised hand, commanding silence. He’s well aware of the multitude of students watching him from across the lot.

“It’s not that big a deal,” he says. Then he simply shrugs, gets off his car, locks it, and strides towards the school building. Amir follows close behind him.

He hums on the way to his locker. When he props it open, Amir—and Lucio—clamber to both sides of him, barraging him with questions on Hyojin and his dramatic little entrance today.

Amir asks him about why exactly he’d just shown up in a car with Hyojin Carys, whilst Lucio bounces from questions about if Hyojin is really as scary as they say, and if Ari got beat up, and if he still has all his ‘parts’ and—

“Guys!” Ari calls, with a chuckle, silencing both of them. “He’s not a bad guy, alright?”

Lucio bites his nails. “So he’s not, like, a murderous criminal? Because he definitely looks like he’d stab me with something in the parking lot of McDonald’s.”

Well, Ari can’t deny that happening, but… “He’s just— He’s not going to kill you.”

“That still doesn’t answer why you two showed up together,” Amir cuts in, still curious. “I trust your judgement that he’s a good person, but I’m still, like… confused, dude.”

Ari just shrugs, closing his locker and heading to his first period with books in his hand, his friends on his heel. “Just felt like giving him a ride, I guess.”

“Since when are you and him so buddy-buddy?” Lucio scoffs, though not unkindly.

As they pass by one hallway, Ari catches sight of Hyojin at the other end, standing by his locker. He’s still sipping on the coffee Ari bought him—if he didn’t know any better, he’d think Hyojin was enjoying it.

The president can’t help but smile. “Sometimes things just aren’t what they seem,” he mumbles, more to himself than to Lucio or Amir.

Across the hall, Hyojin lifts his head and meets Ari’s gaze head-on. There’s no change in his expression when he lifts a hand and flips Ari off from a distance. Ari simply chuckles, then waves back at him.

He watches Hyojin shake his head… and Ari swears he sees a tiny smile. Now, call him what you will: delusional; foolish; moronic—any of the above. But Ari's willing to bet more than a few of his precious dollars that he knows what a genuine smile is.

And a genuine smile?

From Hyojin Carys?

It's worth more than anything he could ever write a speech about.

He thinks, faintly, that maybe this plan of theirs will turn out to be much more splendid than hoped or planned. If that were the case, it'd be smooth-sailing and a very grateful couple favours done at Hyojin's request.

(Well, okay, maybe not all of Hyojin's requests. Lord knows what he'd do with that type of power.)

By the time Lucio and Amir are dragging him to first period, Ari realises he's been staring at Hyojin's back for the better part of a good two minutes. It looks as strong as when he saw it at the cafeteria, that month ago.

The back of a man who perseveres. The back of a man who fights, no matter the circumstances, and holds his chin up high.

Ari can't wait to help build the reputation Hyojin deserves.

[to be continued...]

Chapter Text

「 february 15 | thursday | 10:12am 」

Halfway through Psychology, a class so ironic to him that it’s almost laughable, Hyojin tries his adamant best to ignore the guy whose face is too close to his own.

Sitting at the back grants him the freedom to lounge around and not give a shit—or maybe it’s his reputation, maybe both—but, currently, his ‘lounging’ is being interrupted by a lanky piece of shit with hair the texture of fairy floss, sitting at the desk in front of him, who apparently doesn’t know what personal space is.

(Hyojin blames Ari. No one had approached him before all of this.)

(Though he guesses that was the whole fucking point.)

He doesn’t bother asking the guy what he wants; just stares right back at him with as much emotion as you’d get from a tire. It seems his little companion is content with their staring content, a seemingly permanent smile on his features.

“Can you even see with those bangs?” he asks, finally piping up. 

Hyojin doesn’t react to the voice, but acknowledges it to himself. In fact, he doesn’t react at all—he just keeps staring at the guy, and fiddles with the ring on his index under the desk.

“I mean, you probably can,” he continues, “but it’s gotta be annoying, right?”

How someone can be so socially oblivious to the fact that the person they’re talking to doesn’t want to talk, Hyojin doesn't know.

He's almost impressed.

Even more impressed that this guy hasn’t fucked off to Narnia already, just from Hyojin’s presence—let alone his glare.

...He doesn’t hate it.

“You don’t talk much,” the guy comments, resting his head on his arms along the back of his chair. 

Hyojin decides to test the frigid waters. “Not much to talk about,” he replies.

“Oh!” A wide grin covers the guy’s features, his eyes twinkling. “And he speaks!” Loud barking laughter follows suit—Hyojin doesn’t know if he could get used to hearing that. “Thought you were gonna stab me with something, honestly.”

Behind black strands, sure that he can’t see him, Hyojin averts his gaze. “Don’t have any weapons on me,” he mumbles, not entirely sure where the fuck the conversation’s headed.

Mr Too-Cool-To-Pay-Attention-To-Class laughs again at that, head thrown back and hands clapping together. He’s much too extroverted for Hyojin’s liking. “You’re pretty funny, Hyojin.”

He’d ask him how he knows his name, but all signs point to an obvious answer—and Hyojin isn’t a dumbass. “I try,” he answers, though his tone is as dry as Ari’s hair is brown.

“And I appreciate that.” He nods his head like Hyojin has just revealed words equivalent to the Dalai Lama’s. “I’m Jaime Solis,” he says, holding out a hand in the close proximity their desks give them. 

“Okay?” Hyojin replies, not even moving a muscle to shake the outstretched hand.

The guy—Jaime, as it is—shakes his own hand with a smile. He seems tiring to get along with. Hyojin hopes he won’t have to.

(But with his luck…)

“You’re not that scary,” Jaime says, in a way that leaves Hyojin wondering if he meant to say it aloud.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

So he shrugs.

「 february 15 | thursday | 10:32am 」

Being watched all the time comes with the job—but this is one of very few times where Ari is thankful for his commanding presence in the hallways.

At the bell signalling the lunch break, Ari strides his way across the school, greeting students along the way, until he reaches his oasis: Hyojin’s locker. And lo and behold, when he arrives, there Hyojin stands on cue—body stuffed halfway into his locker, somehow fitting, and hiding away from the world.

Skipping along his merry way, Ari bounds over to Hyojin and takes his position, smiling down at him, entirely aware of all the prying eyes around them that try (and fail) to pretend like they’re not watching.

“Fancy seeing you here, Carys,” he greets, leaning on the lockers.

Hyojin doesn’t look up from his phone. “Yes, what a coincidence that I’m at my own fucking locker.”

Ari just laughs, idly nodding at the students who pass by who wave at him. “So,” he says, “any new developments from our little show-and-tell this morning?”

He watches with curious eyes as Hyojin stops fiddling with his phone, shuts his locker, and turns to him with that naturally beautiful-yet-scowling face. “You wanna know something weird?”

“Hm?”

Hyojin glances over his shoulder briefly, no doubt taking note of all the eyes on them, before lowering his voice just for Ari to hear. “Someone talked to me today. Like, a conversation and shit.”

“Wow.” Ari blinks. He most certainly did not expect people to start socialising with Hyojin the day of the plan. “Really? A— A friend?”

It seems Hyojin frowns at that, though Ari can only tell by the small scrunch of his nose. “No. Just a random dude.” He sighs, clicking his tongue. “Still, it’s an improvement from complete fucking silence.”

“So you liked them talking to you?” Ari queries, making mental notes on Hyojin’s character.

He’s not sure how much of this plan actually benefits the guy—what he wants out of it. Is it purely so he’s no longer ostracised, or does he, perhaps, want a friend group? Something more than a friend, in the future?

He should really sit down and talk with Hyojin before all this unravels.

“Take it this way, prez,” Hyojin starts, rolling up his sweater sleeves so he can demonstrate with his hands, “on one hand, you spend every second of every class with people staring at you, and every time you catch someone looking at you and stare back, they shit their pants. On the other…”

“On the other?”

“Well, I haven’t had much experience with the other, so I don’t fucking know,” he shrugs, dropping it. “But it’s gotta be a hell of a lot better than getting reported to the school admin just for looking at someone.”

Part of Ari realises that he’s still unaware of the full extent of Hyojin’s reputation. He’s seen bits of it, sure, has even participated in some of the mentality at one point. But before all this—before a month ago—he barely paid attention.

He wonders if it’s as bad as he thinks. Or perhaps even worse.

Wanting to put the issue aside and actually get what he came for, Ari opens his mouth to invite Hyojin to come to the cafeteria with him—but is interrupted by a student shuffling past him with a loud, “Hey, Ari!”

He waves back at them with a smile, not missing the way they slow down in their steps when they spot Hyojin in front of them.

“Oh—” They bite their lip, hesitating for a moment, before waving. “Hi, uh… Hyo...jin.” They stumble a little with his name, pulling it out of their mouth like they’re playing with fire. 

Ari nudges Hyojin when he doesn’t react, and Hyojin glares at him before turning back to the student with a casual, “Hey.”

They look content with the response, albeit a little frightened. All too obvious in the way they appraise the pair standing beside each other against the lockers, their eyes dart back and forth from Ari and Hyojin—probably trying to make sense of the situation.

Hyojin Carys, a guy known for having more criminal achievements than hairs on his head, standing perfectly peaceful in very close vicinity to Ari Astutia, a guy known for enforcing rules more often than not.

The school president and the school delinquent, they seem to think. What the fuck?

“Did you need something?” The two of them ask at the same time, though Ari sounds like he’s ready to drop everything and help them in their quest, while Hyojin sounds like he’s ready to pull them apart limb from limb.

“No, no,” the student laughs off nervously, shaking their head and shuffling away. “See you around, uh— you two!”

As they scamper off, clicking back into their friends in the hallway, Ari watches them go before meeting Hyojin’s piercing gaze—and smiling. He finds it’s easy to smile when Hyojin looks at him. Easier than usual.

“So we’re doing this?” Hyojin says, dead-serious in the way he looks up at Ari with that neutral expression of his. “We’re really fucking doing this?”

Ari’s caught between holding a hand over Hyojin’s mouth in an effort to stop his profanity, and squeezing his cheeks between his fingers purely because he feels he needs to. He does neither. Instead, he shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

He really wishes he’d pinched those cheeks, especially when Hyojin stares up at him with another one of his signature smirks—the teasing kind; the face of Hyojin Carys that lets you know just how amused he is with you. “Prez, you’re so naive, it’s almost embarrassing.”

“Hmm, I prefer you call me ‘adorable’,” Ari offers, voice too low for any passersby to hear but face entirely too revealing. “It’s what a boyfriend would do, right?”

Hyojin slams the side of his fist against his locker, the vibrations ricocheting into Ari’s shoulder. He’d think Hyojin a madman, if it weren’t for the shit-eating grin on his face. “Oh, you are insufferable, ” he snarls, sharp canines gleaming.

Insufferable as he may be, Ari thinks Hyojin somewhat enjoys it.

“Alright, then,” he laughs, voice muddled with poison as he wraps his fist around Ari’s tie and pulls him down to eye level. With the proximity, Ari can see glowing brown eyes behind strands of hair, and revels in it. “Let’s see what you can handle, pretty boy .”

Despite himself, and despite the lump in his throat, Ari grins. “Always up for a challenge.”

Something in Hyojin’s eyes glows. He seems alive when he barks out, “Hah!”

“Jesus Christ, you two.” Hyojin lets go of Ari’s tie with frighteningly quick reflexes—Ari catches himself just before he falls back onto his ass. When he turns, he’s met with the scowling face of—

“Luce!”

“Yeah,” his friend greets, lip curling at the corner and hands shoved into his pockets. Students mill about behind him, and Ari chooses to ignore the few gaping faces. “Me. Whoop-de-doo. Are you two done flirting, or should I come back later?”

Ari chokes on his own spit, adjusting his tie idly. “We’re not— We weren’t—”

“Leave it,” Hyojin cuts in, arms crossed and back leaning on his locker as he appraises Lucio standing before them. From what Ari can see, Lucio’s a little irritated that Hyojin has a couple of inches of height on him.

Lucio rolls his eyes, though not rudely. More so like a guy who’s fed up with seeing his best friend participate in PDA in the school hallway.

Not that Ari was doing that.

(He was.)

Definitely not.

(He most definitely was.)

“Listen,” Lucio says, decorated with a yawn, “are you headed to the caf with ol’ Hyojin here, or…? ‘Cuz Amir's been raving about officially introducing themself all morning.”

“The caf? ” Hyojin repeats, with a tone that says he can’t believe what he’s hearing. He turns to Ari with a raised brow, for clarification. Ari rummages through his pockets to pull out his wallet, holding it up like a peace treaty.

“My treat?” he offers.

Hyojin sighs, uncrossing his arms and stuffing his hands into his pockets. His oversized sweater pools around him, and Ari wonders why he’d even bought something so unnecessarily big. “Do you even want me there?” he asks, attention turned to Lucio.

With a shrug, Lucio answers, “A friend of Ari’s is a friend of mine.”

“That’s stupid,” Hyojin comments.

Lucio meets Ari’s eye with a look that says, ‘Really? This guy?’ and Ari can’t help but force out a chuckle, sending back a look of, ‘Give him a chance.’

Thankfully it seems Lucio takes the hint. He turns, glances over his shoulder, says, “You’re welcome if you want to come. If I were you, I’d take advantage of the fact that the school president is offering to pay,” and promptly stalks off in the direction of the cafeteria, the ponytail cascading down his back swishing with the movement for dramatics.

A few feet behind, Ari is happy to see Hyojin by his side when he starts walking. He leans down a little along the stride, whispering into Hyojin’s ear. “Try being more friendly,” he suggests.

“Try eating my ass,” Hyojin replies with a sly smile.

His retorts are truly something. Ari considers telling him he should be a writer with that creativity, but knowing Hyojin, chooses otherwise. “They’re good guys,” he says, a different topic entirely. “Amir’s an easy one to be friends with; they're probably the most extroverted person I know. Well, besides a certain Law student.”

Hyojin doesn’t respond, but Ari appreciates that he’s at least listening, and not, well… punching him.

“Give Luce a little more time. He’ll warm up to you eventually, it’s just that he’s not too sure what to think about you right now. Just yesterday, you were basically still a myth—they only really knew you through me.”

“Aw, you talk about me?” Hyojin imitates, fake sincerity making itself at home on his face. “How sweet.”

“Only bad things, I assure you.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ari can’t help but smile at the interaction, a little skip to this step as he passes by students and waves, all too happy that they’re paying attention to Hyojin’s existence now. 

Of course, there’s no guarantee that they’re looking at him without scorn, but he’ll take what he can get. Plus, in the heat of it all, he hadn’t received a confession at all today. And being around Hyojin has proven to be more fun than he initially thought. The man is great when he’s not crawling through windows.

Things are looking up. 

“We should do this more often,” he perks up, that bounce in his step still evident. “Talk to each other at school with no secrecy. I like it.”

Hyojin scoffs. “Yeah, don’t get a boner over it.”

“It’s nice, ” Ari says, wondering if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s getting used to Hyojin’s snark.

“Yeah? Want me to push you against the lockers and make out with you to prove a point, or something?” he says, completely nonchalantly and so casually that Ari damn near trips over nothing.

“O—Okay, well, that’s… that’s a little much,” Ari stammers out, clearing his throat and pretending like he can’t feel his ears burning.

So calm and collected about it that it almost irritates Ari, Hyojin just shrugs. “I’m down,” he tells him, “if it comes to it.”

Just for an added amount of unrelenting teasing, he makes Ari look when he winks. Ari swears he sees Hyojin smirk again, and it boils the blood running through his veins in emotions too intense to name.

If there was ever a sign of the Devil on earth, Hyojin Carys would be a likely candidate.

And Ari, fool that he is, signed a contract.

「 february 15 | thursday 」

| A.A. |

I fear I’ve made a horrible mistake.

It sounded like a good idea at the time. Actually, I still believe it’s a good idea. The pros outweigh the cons. (Refer to the back of this journal for said pro-con list.) And, if all goes according to plan, the outcomes will definitely be worth simply putting up with Hyojin’s antics.

He does scare me at times, though. I’ll admit that. But perhaps ‘scare’ is the wrong word—irritates, more like. No—tires? Ah, well. It’s hard to describe. The bottom line is that he’s more unpredictable than ma before her morning coffee. How mom can play that game every morning, I’ll never know. 

I digress. The review? I have no idea how to handle Hyojin Carys. Not the slightest clue how. And yet I find myself in a fake relationship with him. I hope all goes according to plan.

I got one confession today, after school, but they said they didn’t need an answer. For this week, my excuse will have to slightly change from “not interested in dating you” to “can’t date you.”

The weeks following… Well, we’ll get there when we get there. 

| H.C. |

this is gonna be the funniest shit ever

prez wants a fake boyfriend? i’ll be the best fake boyfriend he’s ever fucking had

he’ll love it

and if he doesnt

nah he will

he’s so fucked lmao

can’t wait

「 february 16 | friday 」

| A.A. |

Nothing happened today. Nothing noteworthy, that is.

People are paying attention to the fact that we arrive and leave together, at least. I overheard some sophomores talking about us, meaning the rumour mill has already started, but confessions haven’t stopped… yet.

Amir and Luce are becoming increasingly suspicious of Hyojin and I’s relationship, I feel. I’m still debating on whether to tell them the truth or to let them believe we’re actually dating. I’m sure nothing bad will come out of them believing it, but if I were to tell them it’s all part of some elaborate plan…

I’m not sure how they’d respond. Especially Luce. He’d probably call me stupid and tell me to stop. I suppose I understand why he would. But, well. Too late now.

Hyojin is as unpredictable as ever. I feel trying to understand him would be me playing a losing game. I enjoy his company, sure, but one can only handle so many of his jokes.

Speaking of—I’ve started a list at the back of the journal. A list of all the little pranks he’s pulled on me. It starts with, ‘stealing my phone and changing my lock screen to a picture of him flipping the camera off’ and ends with, ‘leaving a page from an erotica novel in my locker to conveniently fall out right when I’m speaking to a group of freshmen.’

And that’s just for today.

| H.C. |

am i being mean? probably. am i going to stop? fuck no.

his reactions are always so worth it lmao

oh

you know what would be downright fucking comedic

prez

on my bike

dude

holy fuck

im gonna get that lanky stickman on my bike if its the last fucking thing i do

「 february 17 | saturday 」

| A.A. |

Hyojin rocked up to my house this morning. I don’t want to know how he got my address. But that’s not the worst of it—he came on his motorcycle. Which was quite… a shock.

What I definitely did not expect, ever, in the entire history of the universe, was for both mom and ma to burst outside and fawn over him.

Who knew they were motorcycle fanatics…

| H.C. |

i like prez’s mums more than i like him

thats a joke

sort of

anyway

today was fun lol i made prez ride around the city with me

he held onto my waist with a fucking death grip it was like something out of netflix romcoms

i dont even think he realised he was hugging me and i think that makes it so much better

no idea if he hates or loves the bike

but im definitely getting him on it more often

| A.A. |

Motorcycles are terrifying and I despise them and everything they stand for.

But it was… nice, I suppose. To take a ride around the city. It was a nice change of pace. I think I might’ve held onto Hyojin a little too much—hopefully he was okay with that and doesn’t punch me for it the next time we meet.

At least now I know why he shows up to school with a leather jacket sometimes. He looks good in his riding gear. It suits him. Not that I’ll ever admit that.

「 february 18 | sunday 」

| H.C. |

prez showed up to my apt today

not exactly what i was expecting to buzz in on a sunday fucking morning

he gave me a basket with stuff in it

hes so weird sometimes

| A.A. |

I visited Hyojin’s home today and gave him a gift basket as thanks for going along with the plan. Lord knows how much he’s putting up with. I’m not even sure if he wants to be part of this plan, or if he’s simply putting up with it.

So far, it hasn’t had much success in the first place—I’m still receiving confessions, and I don’t think Hyojin is rolling in friends yet. But it’s only been a few days, so I’m hoping for the best.

The way I see it, the plan could end in two ways: either it succeeds, and we get what we each want, or it fails miserably and we end up despising each other due to circumstances. I pray it’s not the latter.

I hope that Hyojin doesn’t get sick of me, either. He didn’t exactly seem thrilled when I gave him the basket… but who knows, with him.

He didn’t let me in, but from what I saw at the front door, he owns a lot of plants… it’s kind of endearing, in a way. It seems he takes good care of them. Maybe he’s the type to name them. That’d be… uncharacteristically cute.

| H.C. |

he dropped by so suddenly i didnt have time to clean up the place

thank fuck i was wearing clothes

dunno how he’d react to seeing me buttass naked

wonder if he’d go all red and flustered n shit

whatever he is, he’s definitely not fucking straight. so maybe he’d like what he saw

hm

wouldnt that be interesting.

「 february 19 | monday 」

| A.A. |

Apparently, Jaime Solis approached Hyojin during class today. 

Hyojin said they became quick friends. Well, in his words, they are now “acquaintances with less hatred between them” but I think in Hyojin Carys Language, that means “friends”.

He told me he didn’t know how to talk to people without insulting them. Which is, unfortunately, true. He does it with me all the time. I’ve just gotten used to it; I understand he has good intentions, so I can see the lightheartedness of his comments. With others, though, it might be hard to convey that.

I haven’t spoken much with Jaime, but I’m not too sure he’d take kindly to Hyojin’s… conversation. But Amir says good things about him—I’m sure he and Hyojin can get along, as long as they both make the effort. I’m hoping for it.

According to Hyojin, Jaime had just made small conversation for the period—nothing mentioning me or otherwise. I’m slightly thankful; even throughout all of this, it’d be good if Hyojin gained his own new reputation—one that isn’t just being my boyfriend.

My boyfriend. It’s so strange to write that down. To say it out loud, even more so. My boyfriend. My boyfriend. Hyojin Carys is my b̶o̶y̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶ fake boyfriend.

A fake boyfriend. Strange indeed.

I’ve derailed too much. Anyway, important notes from today:

• I got two confessions, but, surprisingly, neither of them wanted a relationship. They both said they just wanted to admit their feelings. I’m not sure if that’s connected to Hyojin and I being seen everywhere together, but… maybe it is.
• Amir made a joke about us four going on a double-date. I don’t know if they're purely joking around, or if they've caught on. Luce was no help. He just blushed at the idea of going on a date with Amir. He really should confess. It’s dragged on for an almost unbearable amount of time now.
• Ma told me to bring Hyojin over more often if I wanted to and that he’s always welcome. She and mom definitely think there’s something going on, but I was expecting that—can’t get anything past them. I should probably tell them… I’ll talk to Hyojin about it.
• Hyojin fell asleep on the council room couch this afternoon. I got some photos. Let’s hope he doesn’t find them.

| H.C. |

jaime dude said i looked like i could kill someone with a tissue

then he said he meant it as a compliment

how the fuck would you kill someone with a tissue

but i think he thinks we’re friends now

maybe

hes not annoying so i could get used to him ig

also ive noticed that lucio has a crush on amir

hes so obvious that its funny to watch

seriously 

does he think its a secret ?

anybody whos seen him with amir even once would fucking know 

still dont like him very much

he seems like he’d unironically collect pokemon cards

and i dont appreciate that in a person

「 february 20 | tuesday 」

| H.C. |

prez was busy at lunch so jaime dude dragged me over to his table today

met his friends

kal's nice

dude with the black hair green eyes looks like he hates the world. i like him.

apparently he does kickboxing or some shit

i kinda wanna fight him for shits and gigs

not fighting anyone tho since prez would have to deal with that shit

and probs doesnt want to

fucking party pooper

| A.A.  |

Amazing development: Hyojin has friends!

Well, somewhat. I think. I saw him sitting with Jaime’s group at lunch today—much better than hiding alone in the council room, I reckon. Fortunate that Jaime was comfortable enough to invite Hyojin.

I wasn’t worried for Hyojin; he can handle himself. But it’s still fortunate. I’m not sure how to feel about Hyojin and Dylan being friends… That might cause a catastrophe in the halls. I can only pray neither of them get hold of any weapons.

On my end, I received a love letter in my locker, along with what seemed to be homemade cookies. The cookies were nice, albeit a little burnt. The sender kept themselves anonymous, so I can only assume they aren’t looking for an answer.

Not an impossible occurrence, but definitely significant—especially considering all confessions following Hyojin and I’s first entrance together have all been simply confessions, and not dating requests.

Oh. I think Hyojin was right about me sounding like a character from Bridgerton . 

「 february 21 | wednesday 」

| A.A. |

...Hyojin laughed at me when I told him I’ve never kissed anyone before.

| H.C. |

PREZ HAS NEVER KISSED ANYONE BEFORE LMAO

| A.A. |

He stuck by my side all day today. He even walked into my classes, skipping his own. I learnt that not even the teachers speak against him. He’s got more power than I thought.

Regarding the plan, I didn’t receive any confessions today. Zero. Revolutionary. Or perhaps Hyojin being next to me all day deterred anyone who wanted to try. Even if that’s the case, it means the plan is somewhat working… Maybe.

We’re halfway through the week. Hyojin and I talked: on Friday, I’ll post on social media in some way that will make it obvious that we’re ‘dating’. We both know the scary power of the internet, so it’ll be more than enough.

A reminder to myself to hold back on the compliments. I think he’s becoming too smug with them. Maybe he’s spending too much time with Jaime. I told him the social media plan was a good idea and he said something about being rewarded with a blowjob.

I’ll never know how he can so shamelessly say those things. They’re not inherently bad, but… still. I think he’s having too much fun.

| H.C. |

im having way too much fun with this holy shit

he’s so… innocent

and so easily flustered

its so entertaining

how far can i take it before he realises im not even doing this for the fucking plan anymore lmao

whats it gonna take? me literally fucking him?

sounds like a fun challenge

the plan shit, not fucking him

well

i mean.

「 february 22 | thursday 」

| H.C. |

prez is a lot more fun to be around than i thought he’d be tbh

theres definitely something up his ass but when it gets down to it ig he’s a pretty sweet guy

good person n shit

its still funny as fuck to mess with him tho

| A.A. |

Hyojin is most definitely having too much fun. Something tells me he’s enjoying this ploy of ours way too much. I’ve noticed things. He likes to tease. Well, that’s not revolutionary information, nor is it new, but it’s definitely more obvious now more than ever.

Today, he cornered me at my locker and almost kissed me. His breath was so close that I could tell he drank coffee this morning. Then he left after saying I looked like I “really wanted it.”... I don’t think I’ll ever get used to him.

| H.C. |

he’s so cute.

| A.A. |

He is… so much.

[to be continued...]

Chapter Text

 「 february 23 | friday | 7:04am 」

Hyojin can forgive Ari for a lot of things, but showing up at his doorstep before the bakery across the road is even open? That’s unforgivable. It’s pure insanity, that’s what it fucking is.

Eight was already pushing it.

But seven?

Seven?

This guy’s got a fucking death wish.

Hyojin is sitting up in bed currently, staring at the time on his phone and contemplating if jail time for homicide will be worth getting some more hours of sleep.

But Ari is texting (more like spamming) him to buzz him up, and that he has coffee and breakfast, and that they have plans, and Hyojin really regrets giving Ari his number.

i will literally fucking pay you to leave me alone, he types out and sends, before dropping his phone and lying back again, ignoring the blue messages that pop up after.

              princey

[7:05]     Carys, please let me in

[7:07]     I’m driving you to school today, but you have to help me with that social media post, remember?

[7:10]     It’s cold outside
[7:10]     I think I might die of hypothermia right in your lobby
[7:10]     Please let me in

[7:11]     That was a joke, but it really is cold out
[7:11]     Hopefully your coffee is still warm

[7:14]     I know you’re reading these messages. Did you fall back asleep, maybe? It’s not impossible

[7:15]     We’ll have to leave in an hour to get to school on time
[7:15]     Just deal with the early morning for today, please?

[7:20]     If you let me in, I’ll go along with your next ploy, no questions asked
[7:20]     Oh
[7:20]     It opened
[7:20]     See you soon :)

Hyojin has just barely thrown on an almost-definitely-still-dirty shirt and tied his hair up (as much as it can be) when his doorbell rings. The things he does for this asshole.

But he was offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—and he’s nothing if not an opportunist. So, let bygones be bygones. Future-him will be grateful.

And when he opens the door and catches sight of the school president, too bright and gleeful for the hour, thousands of plans flood Hyojin’s Very Tired brain—and a concerning amount of them involve getting Ari down on his knees.

(Just because he can.)

“Good morning!” Ari greets, holding up a tray of two coffee cups and what seems to be a bag of groceries. He’s dressed in his uniform, though the blazer is folded and resting on his arm instead of on his person.

With just the sheer white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, Hyojin can gauge his build: more impressive than he thought, but definitely not awe-inspiring. A muscle here or there, maybe a toned stomach. Broad shoulders and thin waist, definitely. Athletic, but more so in the a-sport-on-the-side way.

Ari’s body would probably be easy for Hyojin to pin down.

“Always a good morning when you’re the first thing I see,” Hyojin responds, making good work of hiding his thoughts.

“I’m going to pretend like you’re not being sarcastic,” he says with a smile, stepping into the apartment and making his grand ol’ way to the kitchen area right beside them. “You say lots of sweet things, if I do that.”

Hyojin throws himself up onto the kitchen island, yawning on the way up. “That’s me,” he mumbles, cracking his neck to wake himself up. “The sweetest boyfriend in the world.”

“Here.” Offering the larger cup of coffee to Hyojin and smiling when it’s taken from his hands. “Also, what’s your opinion on avocado?”

“It exists,” Hyojin responds once he’s gotten caffeine in his system. “Why.”

Ari takes out the products in the grocery bag: a loaf of bread, two avocadoes, and a bottle of balsamic vinegar. “Breakfast!”

Hyojin blinks. “You’re making breakfast for me?”

“For us, ” he corrects, like it makes it any different.

Hyojin barely holds back his laughter. The school president is in his kitchen, making him breakfast to eat together, giving him coffee, and offering to drive him.  It’s like they’re actually dating.

What a fucking time to be alive.

「 february 23 | friday | 7:37am 」

“So?”

Hyojin swallows down the last bit of toast, now significantly more awake and aware of Ari watching him from across the kitchen island. “So what?”

With a huff, Ari pouts. “Did you like it?” he asks, cheeks puffy from his irritated face. It’s almost cute. 

“It was edible.”

“Oh, come on! ” 

It’s an effort not to lose and start laughing right then and there. But Hyojin perseveres, in the name of seeing Ari all worked up. “It’s a compliment, prez. Take it or leave it.”

Ari sighs, collecting Hyojin’s plate and making his way to the sink almost on autopilot. Hyojin won’t admit how much he loves to see the stupidly domestic sense of it all. “So what would you want to eat, then?” Ari asks, and Hyojin feels the Devil crawl up inside him. “Maybe I can make it next time, so, what’s your favourite meal?”

“You.”

The sound of a plate shattering reverberates throughout the entire apartment, ringing in Hyojin’s ears. He’d flinch if he weren’t so focused on the pure flush of red on the school president’s face.

Ari stands there, broken plate in the sink before him, mouth gaping open and closed as he stares at the man across the kitchen. The red covers his entire face, reaching his ears and even his neck and maybe—Hyojin hopes—even lower.

He is so fucking fun to tease. Like a toy that never gets old. 

Hyojin feels giddy. “It was a joke, prez. Though I’d be down to, if you wanted.”

The only responses he gets are stuttered mumbles that barely register as words. He doesn’t try to stop the chuckle that falls out of him—especially not when Ari is looking at him like that.

Head tilted down, ears and nose bright red, soft brown eyes just barely meeting his gaze beneath long lashes and nervous glances.

Ah, the things he would do to this man.

Having finally regained his composure, or at least as much of it as he can, Ari braces himself against the sink counter and pinches his nose bridge. “Your— Your jokes are…” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. (Like that’ll stop Hyojin from engraving it into his memory.) “Ugh. Whatever.”

Oh? Hyojin sees a flash in his mind—a raised flag, if you will. That’s a new reaction.

“Help me with this post,” Ari says, changing the subject entirely. Though he tries to plaster on his Intimidating President face, Hyojin sees the little puff of his cheek; the remainders of blush on his ears and neck; the vein in his forearm that seems ready to burst—and he can’t help but feel smug.

He covers his mouth to hide his smile, humming. 

Ari is so eager about everything that it’s endearing. Endearing in the way that Hyojin wants to push that line; play with that string until it snaps. How far can he go?

How far can Ari go?

⦗ ┅ ⦘

Image Description: In the foreground, two plates of avocado toast on a kitchen bench. In the background, a person candidly looks to their right, with toast held up to their mouth with their right hand. They wear a large, almost oversized, black t-shirt. Their black hair is tied back at the nape, but the bangs fall over their face. Their left hand casually shows off a middle finger to the camera.

Ari :) @Ari_Astutia

Anybody have any tips on how to be a better boyfriend? I’m sure @hyojincarys would appreciate them.

h. @hyojincarys
Replying to @Ari_Astutia

fuck you im the greatest boyfriend youve ever had

🔥luce  @VOlucANioN
Replying to @hyojincarys and @Ari_Astutia

Whar the fyck

amir! @MIMIMIZIMI
Replying to @VOlucANioN @hyojincarys and @Ari_Astutia

oh my god . OH MY GOD ??

🌑😎  @makbelline
Replying to @MIMIMIZIMI @VOlucANioN @hyojincarys and @Ari_Astutia

HOLY SHIT HAHAHA

☀️😎 @jaimzoen

Replying to @makbelline @MIMIMIZIMI @VOlucANioN @hyojincarys and @Ari_Astutia

Interesting.

h. @hyojincarys
Replying to @jaimzoen @makbelline @MIMIMIZIMI @VOlucANioN and @Ari_Astutia

learn to untag you fucking heathens

Ari :) @Ari_Astutia
Replying to @hyojincarys @jaimzoen @makbelline @MIMIMIZIMI and @VOlucANioN

Be nice.

h.  @hyojincarys
Replying to @Ari_Astutia

youd like that 

「 february 23 | friday | 8:25am 」

On the ride into school, the screen on Ari’s dashboard flashes with a call from one ‘Lucio Pyrra’. Hyojin is about to comment on Ari’s uptight contact-naming system when Ari answers the call swiftly.

“Hey, Luce,” Ari greets, voice calm but knuckles white. He knows what’s coming. “What do you need?”

“Dude,” Lucio cries, voice frazzled. “What I need is for you to get to school, like, yesterday. People are going insane over here— They’re even asking me and Amir about it!”

From the passenger seat, Hyojin holds a hand over his mouth to curb his laughter. This is exactly what Ari asked for—he’s getting the attention they planned to achieve. And now, Hyojin simply has to sit back and watch the school president do his work.

With some added spice, of course. Hyojin will make sure of that.

“‘It’?” Ari asks, biting the inside of his cheek. Hyojin wonders if he’s really about to play dumb, but— well, that’s not his game to play. (Yet.)

“You and Hyojin!”the car speakers shake with Lucio's yell, almost like a bass-boosted version of his voice. “You idiot," he adds.

Hyojin hums, fingers playing with the strands of hair by his neck. “What’s there to talk about? Thought we made it pretty clear already.” 

Their rides to school together have become so frequent that Lucio is barely phased. “One tweet each is not enough to tell us everything, jackass!”

Turning into the street just before the school entrance, Ari bites his lip again. Hyojin wonders if he’s ready for it all. “Listen,” he says to Lucio, “we’re almost at school, alright? I’ll handle it when we get there.”

“You’re the talk of the school, Ari,” is the response. “More so now than usual.”

Something about the way Ari’s lips curl into a smile tells Hyojin that he’s more than pleased about it. “I know,” he says, car pulling into the lot.

From just a glance out of the window, Hyojin spots about a dozen and a half students idling around the carpark, all watching as the school president rolls into school with his boyfriend Hyojin Carys in the car.

One or two students make eye-contact with Hyojin through the glass. It’s definitely not something that scares him, but it sure is different. He’s not sure how to feel about it.

They’re both aware of how much the rumours have grown; how far they’ve spread. They know what they’ve done with their stolen glances across hallways and close proximity at tables—and now that they’ve confirmed it by pulling the plug, however small, people are bouncing off the walls with the news.

Parking the car and transferring the call to his phone as he steps out and ignores the crowd of students circling them, Ari spots Lucio staring at him from the balcony of the science building—a few feet away from the lot. He's holding the phone out by his chest, with Amir next to him, both leaning on the railing.

“Alright, man. I've gotta ask,” Lucio starts, not bothering to let Ari realise he’s been on speaker this entire time. Staring straight ahead and into Ari’s eyes through the windshield, Amir raises a brow while Lucio asks: “Is it real?”

Is it real?

It’s a question he was prepared for—probably the question he was prepared for. But coming from Lucio, and seeing those sincere eyes from across the lot, Ari feels something drop into his gut.

He turns to Hyojin, who’s made his way beside him and stares back with those indifferent eyes and unchanging expression. Then, by some form of a miracle, he feels Hyojin’s hand slip into his own. Slender fingers wrap between his, and he feels calluses rubbing against his palm. It’s a rough sort of hand. One that’s seen life and work and hardship. He doesn’t hate holding it.

“It’s real,” Hyojin answers for him, staring directly back at Amir and Lucio.

Snapping out of his own stupor and averting his gaze from Hyojin’s side profile, Ari watches Lucio huff—and watches half a smile spread his lips. “Then that’s enough for me.”

He hangs up and walks back into the building with Lucio beside him before Ari even has the chance to respond.

“C’mon, prez.” Hyojin is tugging on his hand, with more than a couple dozen eyes on them now, to walk in. “Your kingdom awaits.”

As he’s dragged into a stroll into the school, Ari shakes his head, but can’t stop the soft laughter that falls out of lungs. He holds up their intertwined hands as they walk, grinning down at his supposed boyfriend. “Since when are you so eager?”

With a grin as bright as Ari’s, Hyojin shrugs. “It’s easier than confirming through words.” 

And truly, it is. Through just a short walk between the entrance and Ari’s locker, they pass by more than enough of the school population—all of them getting a spectacularly grand look at the trending new surprise-couple.

A few side-eyes here, a few whispers there. They’ve really become the talk of the town.

Good.

“Well, sweetheart,” Hyojin laughs when they’ve reached Ari’s locker, “we’ve arrived.”

“‘Sweetheart’?”

“Ears everywhere, y’know?” When Hyojin releases Ari’s hand, his palm feels somewhat empty without the calluses pressing against it. “Unless you like me calling you ‘prez’ all the time.”

Ari rolls his eyes, though subtly enough to not catch attention. “Call me what you wish,” he shrugs off, “I don’t have a preference.” A maniacal shimmer shines on Hyojin’s face, and Ari has to poke his nose to stop it. “Nothing inappropriate,” he warns.

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Hyojin whines, though his laughter fills the hallway. 

Ari raises his voice slightly to match Hyojin’s—enough to be heard by the students doing a horrendous job at hiding their peeking ears. “Yes, well, you’re the one dating me, so what does that say about you?”

“It says I have shit taste,” Hyojin responds, smirking up at Ari. With their proximity, Ari is the only one close enough to see the glint in Hyojin’s eyes. And when there’s a glint, there’s a plan. And Ari is wise enough to know a plan of Hyojin’s always leads to trouble.

“What are you—”

The words barely leave his mouth before Hyojin pulls on his tie, bringing his face down to his level—and for a moment entirely too quickly for his brain to process, Hyojin’s lips on his cheek, kissing it.

A hand shoots up to cup his cheek immediately, the aftershock sending him reeling into his locker with a bang! 

Hyojin is laughing into his hand when it all settles. “How cute,” he giggles. And those are the last words he says before he strolls off to god-knows-where.

And as Ari stands there, shellshocked and red-faced, something about the pride in Hyojin’s silhouette tells him that Hyojin Carys is a man he will never get used to.

「 february 23 | friday | 10:38am 」

Not even ten minutes into lunch, and Ari finds himself making a safe haven of the council room.

The upside of him and Hyojin “dating” has been that, so far, the confessions have stopped. The downside, however, was that those confessions had been replaced by relentless interrogations by every student he’d passed by.

In the past two hours alone, he’s had to insist one too many a time that, yes, he and Hyojin are dating. Yes, he is serious. Yes, it is a surprise and he understands that. No, it does not mean his previous claims about being uninterested in dating were lies. Yes, the relationship was an unexpected turn of events. Yes, Hyojin is fully aware that he’s dating Ari. Yes, Ari is fully aware that he’s dating Hyojin. Yes, sometimes life does throw you for a loop. No, Ari is not regretting it. No, Ari is not considering polyamory. No, he will not go ask Hyojin if he’s okay with the relationship becoming polyamory. No, Ari is not going to date you or anyone else other than Hyojin Carys. No, he and Hyojin will not be breaking up anytime soon. Yes, that is the end of the discussio—

He’s tired.

He is so, so tired, and he wants to take a thousand naps and not be woken up unless the world is ending and he, for some reason, is the only person available to save it.

He hears the window opening before he sees it, and sighs—out of relief or irritation, he can’t tell. “Hello, partner,” he greets, before Hyojin has a chance to make any of his grand comments.

With one leg up on the frame, Hyojin grimaces so visibly it overrides half his face being hidden. “ ‘Partner’ ?” he mocks. “Are you a fucking cowboy?”

He should’ve figured there was no escape from Hyojin’s remarks. “You’re my partner now,” he explains, watching Hyojin make quick work of throwing his body into the room and onto the couch with an elegance a man like himself shouldn’t have. “Hence, the name.”

There’s a small moment of silence, definitely not comfortably and almost anxiety-inducing, before Hyojin lets out a harsh bark of laughter. “Was that your attempt at a pet name ?” he teases. 

Ari would be irritated at the demeaning tone if it weren’t for the distracting scene—Hyojin, leaning back into the couch, legs spread and arm on the back of the couch, running a hand through his shaggy hair to pull it back and showcase that cocky expression.

It should look crude. But for Hyojin Carys, it works. 

It shouldn’t make someone feel stuffy under their collar. But for Ari Astutia… 

Hm.

“Try harder, sweetheart, ” Hyojin prompts, brows all pleading but entire rest of him betraying any sincerity. “See how easy it is?” He leans down, bracing his elbows on his thighs and grinning at Ari across the coffee table. “Go on.”

Ari wonders what Hyojin is playing at. What does he want Ari to say here? ‘Babe’, like he usually hears in the hallways? ‘Sweetheart’, following Hyojin’s example? ‘Pumpkin’, like how mom calls ma? Something else entirely?

It seems Hyojin has gotten bored with waiting for an answer—which is understandable, considering the only response Ari is giving him is a blank stare with a twitch of a furrowed brow.

“Any day now, prez,” he sighs, though Ari hears too much amusement in his voice for him to be truly frustrated. “Sometime this year, maybe.”

“Oh, hush,” Ari answers, a pout on his lips subconsciously. He crosses a leg over the other in utter irritation, huffing and averting his gaze.

Hyojin knows Ari’s anything but annoyed. “Alright, prezzy ,”—Ari cringes—“When you think of terms of endearment, what comes to mind?”

What comes to mind is that this situation is laughable, at best.

He’s sitting in the council room at lunch, not even doing work, but avoiding social interaction. Avoiding social interaction prompted by rumours about him dating someone. No, not just ‘someone’—him dating Hyojin Carys. Hyojin Carys, who is currently sitting with him, in said council room to (probably) also avoid said rumours, lecturing him on pet names.

He thinks something must’ve gone haywire in the multiverse somewhere. 

Shaking his head, refusing to believe this is his reality, Ari mutters, “You're insufferable.”

Hyojin hums. “Well, that’s about as romantic as sharing a dead rat for dinner, but at least you’re trying.”

“Wh— That wasn’t—”

Before Ari has a chance to explain himself, the door swings open with enough force to catch their attention. Not a moment later, a junior walks in, holding a large cardboard box in his arms.

“Oh, shit,” he says as an introduction, stopping in his tracks with the key’s lanyard in his mouth. “Sorry, folks. Didn’t realise there were people in here already.”

Ari recognises him from passing classes and hallways—Simon, he thinks the name is. Simon Salisbury.

“Don’t mind me; just droppin’ off some of Kal’s things!” Placing the box on Ari’s desk with a thud, he claps his hands together to dust them off, before turning to the pair in the conversation pit and seemingly realising who he’s in the presence of:

Ari, the school president—and Hyojin, the school delinquent-turned-maybe-good-guy-since-he’s-dating-Ari-now.

“Uh.” Simon reaches up and scratches his head, eyes looking all around the room except for the two other people in it. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anythin’.”

Inclined to reassure him, Ari rushes to wave a hand and let out a friendly chuckle. “No, no, you weren’t. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for the things.”

Simon seems content with the consolation, and quickly ducks his head before exiting the room and leaving with a short goodbye. 

“And then there were two,” comes the voice Ari’s gotten too used to by now. It’s cocky, and condescending, and everything sugar and spice.

“Congratulations, you can count,” Ari retorts, crossing his arms and staring Hyojin right back down. He’s determined not to cower in the face of Hyojin’s confidence. 

Hyojin lowers himself even further on the cushions, spreading his legs even more so. Ari can’t decide whether he looks comfortably melted or like he’s housing a broken spine. But with a smirk that could kill, Hyojin just laughs. “Gonna give me a gold star, prez?”

“You don’t deserve stickers. Much less gold stars.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Hyojin tuts, holding up a finger. When he moves it side to side, there’s the quiet jingle of metal rings sliding against each other. “That’s not how you treat your boyfriend,” he lectures. “You’re supposed to say, ‘oh, Hyojin, you’re so smart and handsome and amazing—I’m swooning! Here, take all of my life savings!”

Ari blinks. “No.”

“A true romantic, you.” Somehow satisfied despite the lack of cooperation from Ari, Hyojin snuggles into the cushions behind him.

Ari is very afraid of the glint in his eye when he sits up straight.

“Actually,” Hyojin laughs, low and almost teasing, “speaking of romance…”

“Oh god.”

“Y’know what we need, prez?” he continues, taking up that stance again with his arms on his thighs. Almost like a businessman—if the business were playing with Ari’s heart and mind.

Unfortunately, Ari humours him. “What, Carys?”

“We’re dating, right?” Ari raises a brow. “Well, y’know, ‘dating’. I reckon we need to up the antics; we need to raise the bar; we… ” he gestures between the two of them, like a team of sorts, “need to go on a date. ”

“We need to go on a what? ” It’s almost ludicrous, how eager Hyojin is. “We’re not actually dating, Carys, why would we—”

Hyojin ignores him. “We need to go on a date—and we need to be seen by someone.” The shimmer in his eye doesn’t dim. “A specific someone.”

Unfortunately, Ari starts to understand. “...Someone who talks.” There’s a silent agreement that ebbs between them; a mutual understanding of what Hyojin is suggesting. “Maki.”

“Exactly.”

Ari hates that it makes sense. He really hates that it makes sense.

Because he knows what Hyojin is about to offer.

And knows he won’t be able to refuse.

“There's a party at his,” Hyojin states, the devil in him making him brush his hair back again and meet Ari’s gaze with a bare face. “Saturday night.”

Ari clears his throat and tries hard not to think about the ratios of Hyojin’s facial features, and how perfect they would be on a canvas. “How do you know that?”

The boy across from him scoffs. “Just because people don’t talk to me, doesn’t mean I don’t have a fucking ears, prez.” Ari doesn’t know whether he should feel cursed or blessed that gravity pulls Hyojin’s bangs down over his eyes again. “People talk. Loudly. That’s the whole point of us doing this.”

‘Us’.

So he says.

“What’s the plan, then?” Ari queries, hoping his intuition is wrong for once. 

But alas. “We go , obviously. We show up, we get seen, we cozy it up just like any other couple.”

Ari sighs. “We go to one of Maki’s parties? Us? The most unlikely invites?”

“As far as I know, Maki’s doors are open to anyone who isn’t a cop. So unless you plan on doing some really stupid shit, I’d say we’re safe.”

Hyojin’s smile is much too charming for Ari’s good health. His eyes seem fixated on the damn thing; like he’s never seen a smile before. He’s been rendered a fool.

“Well?” Hyojin prompts. When he grins, Ari swears he sees a tongue slither across pearly whites. “What’s the go, prez?”

In a list of pros and cons, the cons outweigh almost spectacularly. But the pro—the one pro he can think of—is so much more tempting. He’s at a crossroads.

But he’s made it this far in life following his instincts, and he won’t stop now.

He will not give in to Hyojin Carys.

He will not give in to Hyojin Carys.

He will not give in to Hyojin Carys— 

「 february 24 | saturday | 7:52pm 」

He gave in to Hyojin Carys.

He gave in to Hyojin Carys, and now, he’s staring at himself in his bedroom mirror, wondering what he’s supposed to wear to a high school house party. It’s not like he’s ever been to one before.

After he had reluctantly agreed to attend the party, Hyojin had told him to ‘dress like a whore.’

Ari, much to his own discretion, did not do that.

Listen, there’s nothing inherently wrong with the getup he has on now—a dress shirt under a v-neck sweater, paired with some slacks that have a lovely silk feel to them, if you ask him—but he’s painstakingly aware that whatever this is, it probably won’t cut it for a Maki house party.

He knows it’ll be painfully obvious that Hyojin dragged him there. Even so, he can’t find it in himself to care. If anything, how he dresses will match whatever reputation he has with the partygoers—that he isn’t one.

Satisfied with his decision not to care anymore, Ari grabs his things and heads downstairs to start what could be either the best or worst night of his life.

When he passes the living room, he catches ma on her fiftieth rerun of Doctor Who and bids her goodbye by leaning over the couch and hugging the back of her head. “Don’t wait up,” he says, shoving a quick peck on her cheek, just narrowly missing the titanium piercing on her dimple.

“Don’t get murdered,” his ma replies, chuckling, before turning back to look at him. Then she raises a brow and pauses, looking her son up and down. “Weren’t you heading to a party with Hyojin?”

“...Yeah? I… am …?”

“Dressed like that? ” She shakes her head and cradles her temple, like she’s got a raging migraine caused by her son’s style. “Oh, Ari, no.”

And, yeah, Ari knows his ma was quite the party animal back in her prime—hell, she still is—but he’s not really appreciating all the judgement in the air right about now.

Plus, who is she to judge, when her wife unironically wears anime merch around the house?

“It’ll be fine, ma.” He shrugs the pain off, inching towards the front door by the second. “Besides, I feel like it’d be more of a culture shock if I showed up wearing leather, or something.”

“Well, I guess that’s true,” he hears her mumble as he shoves his feet into a pair of black boots at the entrance. 

He’s halfway out of the door when he hears her call out again, and pokes his head back around to see her still looking at him.

“Do your ma a favour, though, hon?”

“Yeah?”

She smiles. “Lose the sweater.”

「 february 24 | saturday | 8:30pm 」

When Hyojin opens his door and sees Ari, the first thing he does is say, “Absolutely fucking not.”

Ari doesn’t know what’s more disappointing—that Hyojin said that, or that he was already expecting him to say it. He glances down at his outfit, now just a bare white dress shirt and slacks, and frowns. “I thought I looked nice…”

“You do,” Hyojin answers, though Ari knows damn well it’s not a compliment. “That’s why you need to get changed.” (There it is.)

Ari huffs. “Isn’t looking ‘nice’ enough?”

“You look like a guy who’d be on a wikiHow page of ‘how to look smart’.”

“What?”

Hyojin rolls his eyes. “You’re hot, prez, but not in the way we need you to be for tonight.”

He can’t tell if it’s a compliment or an insult. Knowing Hyojin, it could be both of them tangled together in a messy knot. “Yes, well,” he gestures to Hyojin, dressed in simply a t-shirt and sweats again, “you’re not exactly dressed in high fashion either.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to have sex with me, right here, right now?” he replies, definitely playing, but with enough confidence to make it sound like he’s not.

Ari just stares at him. The chuckle that falls out of Hyojin’s lips is enough indication that he’s satisfied with annoying Ari for the moment.

He moves to the side, letting Ari into the apartment. He’s gotten used to the place, by now.

It’s nice that he can recognise it—the potted plants by the balcony, both outside and in. The never-empty container of instant coffee on the kitchen bench. That one pillow on the couch, vibrant blue and entirely out of place in the monochromatic gray of everything else.

He gets to see a side of Hyojin Carys that manages to surprise him, every time.

“Alright,” Hyojin declares, opening his bedroom door and glancing over his shoulder to grin. “Let’s make you slutty.”

Ari’s breath hitches. “Please do not.”

「 february 24 | saturday | 8:45pm 」

Well.

The prez sure does clean up good.

Or, in this case, maybe ‘mess up’ is a more accurate description.

When he walks out of the bathroom, Hyojin looks up from where he’s been lounging on his phone on his bed, and is hit with thoughts that would make a parish priest cry himself to sleep.

In Hyojin’s clothes (thankfully, half his wardrobe consists of oversized everything) and wearing an expression half-embarrassed half-uncertain, Ari shuffles over, dressed in a getup that makes Hyojin consider if he should make styling Ari his day-job.

He’s wearing his own boots, because they were fine in the first place (and Hyojin doesn’t own anything in Aris’ size), with a pair of black jeans, ripped at the knees, and a tucked-in black t-shirt that’s a little tighter than he’s used to. To top it off—Hyojin’s jewellery. A simple silver necklace, two simple silver rings on his hand, a silver chain hanging from his pocket.

Oh, yeah. Hyojin knows when he’s done a good job.

Ari looks, for lack of another phrase, hot as fuck. (He knew there was sex appeal under all those rules and regulations.) With the lack of a stuffy dress shirt and uptight blazer, his body is on full display.

And Hyojin isn’t above staring.

His shoulders are broader than what they’d looked like in the uniform, with a torso that tapers to a waist so thin Hyojin can almost feel the way it would fit between his palms, and with enough tone in his muscles to make you glance more than once.

“Nice body,” Hyojin comments, because he feels no need for a filter.

He’s especially glad for his lack of one when Ari’s face goes red, his lips purse, and he averts his gaze. A classic reaction, and one Hyojin doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of seeing. “I’m not used to showing it off so much,” Ari mumbles.

“Shame. You look good.”

Ari clears his throat. “Thanks… I suppose.” He’s used to compliments, but with someone as direct as Hyojin Carys, it’s a difficult thing to adjust to.

“Alright, with your shit style out of the way, time to take care of that. ”

Following Hyojin’s gaze to his head, Ari reaches a hand up and plays with the brown strands falling just above his eyeline. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

Throwing a shrug on one shoulder, Hyojin hops up and starts fiddling with a hair straightener that’s on his bedside table. He’d prepared. “It’s perfect for school standards,” he says, gesturing for Ari to sit on the bed. He obeys, cringing at the tightness of the pants on his thighs. “Which makes it boring.”

“Boring?”

“You look like a straight guy.”

Ari blinks. “I—”

He’s shut up when he feels a hand on his nape, fingers winding through the short hairs. When he freezes up at the touch, Hyojin laughs at him, and runs his hand up through the strands, across Ari’s scalp, playing with his bangs when he gets to them.

He curses the part of his brain that enjoys the touch. It’s much too domestic for them; he’s much too inexperienced in someone touching him so intimately. His body doesn’t know how to react, much less his mind.

Trying not to react in any other way, Ari simply sits there and stares up at the man who has his hand weaved through his hair.

With a shake of his head, black waves flowing about, Hyojin chuckles. He’s fully fucking certain that Ari has no idea what he looks like right now. No, with those wide pleading eyes and open gaping mouth and slight shudder of his shoulders… he really hasn't a damn clue what he’s doing.

It makes it all that much more fun.

And Hyojin loves fun.

He handles Ari’s head with a consciously gentle touch, maneuvering his slender fingers and straightener through brown strands to create soft curls. Ari lets him. How interesting is that?

The school president sits there, letting Hyojin Carys hold an iron-hot weapon at an incredibly small proximity to many of his weakest points, and… he’s closing his eyes.

The motherfucker is relaxing.

Hyojin hears two words in his mind when he notices this happening.

The first is ‘stupid.’

The second is ‘cute’.

He ignores both of them, and continues styling.

Around the time where Hyojin gets to his crown, Ari pipes up, eyes still closed and chest still steadily breathing. “Carys?”

“Yes, prez?”

“Can you tell me something?”

Hyojin hums. “No, I’m not a virgin. Thanks for asking.”

His eyes shoot open at that, and his ears turn red, but his face remains somewhat neutral. (Hyojin applauds him for that.) “That’s not— I wasn’t asking about that.”

“Wow, were you asking for something saucier?” Hyojin teases, applying finishing touches to Ari’s hair and moving to grab his eyeliner off his bedside, hoping Ari is distracted enough to not notice he’s about to be victim to Hyojin’s makeup experimentation. 

“I—”

“My kinks, maybe?”

“That’s—”

“Didn’t peg you for a vanilla kinda guy in the first place, prez, but this is truly surprising.”

“I wanted to ask you what really happened on the first day,” Ari finally shoves out. His tone is slightly different; slightly more commanding. Hyojin has heard it before—in speeches and on stages. It’s strange hearing it directed purely for himself.

He hums again, tilting his head. “The first day?”

“The fight,” Ari elaborates. “The… Well, the one that started all of…” he gestures vaguely to all of Hyojin, “this. Why were you in that fight?”

It’s a strange question. He’s never been asked that before. No one’s been willing to listen to the story—to his story on what happened. 

And now he doesn’t know how to phrase it.

He’s thankful Ari follows silent commands, closing his eyes and letting Hyojin draw black ink and distract himself as he talks. “If I remember correctly, it was ‘cause of two dickheads being... well, dickheads.”

“Lovely.”

“Quite,” he chuckles. “I was on the ride to school when I saw them cornering someone. Can’t say they looked scared, but body language does wonders—and they definitely didn’t seem like they wanted drool all over them. So I promptly told the guys to fuck off.”

He finishes with the eyeliner, letting his hand stay cupped against Ari’s jawline. When he taps, Ari opens his eyes. Something about the look in his eyes tells Hyojin to keep talking.

“Next thing I know, there are two guys on the ground, I have a crowd around me, and I'm being dragged into a cop car.” He emphasises the story with a smile, finally moving away from Ari and taking his hand off his cheek.

“But you didn’t have malicious intent,” Ari comments.

“Guess not,” he agrees. “Cops agreed, after checking records or cams or… some shit, whatever. Then I was back at school the next week, with a less-than-great first impression.”

As he listens to the story, sitting on Hyojin’s bed with his body sinking into the mattress, Ari feels the pieces of one puzzle fall into place. One of the walls, finally broken down.

Hyojin wasn’t just misunderstood. He had been completely disregarded.

A part of Ari aches at the reminder of his own impression of Hyojin, from before their encounter in January. He surely wasn’t any better than anyone else who treated Hyojin like something to be feared, rather than praised.

Sure, he might have gotten carried away with the game of punishment. Ari can’t say he’d do the same, if he were in Hyojin’s place. But the intentions were what mattered—the context. And yet, no one had even tried to find either.

“If you’re brooding, knock it off,” Hyojin lectures, back turned to Ari as he files through his wardrobe. “I brought it on myself, so stop being a fucking pity party.”

Taking that as enough hint to pull himself out of his stupor, Ari takes a deep breath and settles himself. “You’re a very admirable man, Hyojin. Even beyond this story.”

Hyojin laughs from within his rack of clothes. “Yeah, don’t fall in love with me over it,” he responds.

After a moment, he comes back to the bed with an outfit in his hands. He throws it down next to Ari, then blows his hair out of his face. It falls right back down—but there’s enough time for Ari to catch that Hyojin is looking at him; at his face.

He’s looking at sharp eyeliner framing almond eyes, a perfect accentuation of Ari’s stupidly pretty features. He looks like a benefactor from a movie, and Hyojin is a little afraid of the power he’s given Ari.

“What?” Ari asks, tilting his head. “Do I look weird?”

If ‘weird’ means fuckable, then sure, he thinks to himself. He pokes a thumb to behind him; to the mirror on the wall of the bathroom at the end of the hallway. Ari takes the hint and bounds off, and not a moment later, Hyojin hears that good ol’ formal snark.

“...I look like a Tim Burton character,” Ari comments.

Hyojin snorts, stripping off his crusty t-shirt that has definitely seen better days. “Yeah,” he calls back. “In the hot, attractive, ooh-I’m-kinda-into-dead-people way.”

“I’m not sure that’s how that work, Carys,” he sighs. Finding his way back to the main bedroom to see a half-naked guy, Ari veers back and hits his back against the hallway wall. “Oh my— You’re—”

Hyojin almost bursts out laughing at the sight of a red face. “Somethin’ off, prez?” he asks, voice more sultry than curious. 

“That’s— I—” he stammers, eyes blinking rapidly and pupils darting around the room.

Hyojin doesn’t miss the fact that Ari’s eyes keep dragging back to his body. The president, backed up against the wall and looking entirely too small for a man over six feet, coughs and rubs the back of his neck with a palm, eyes still not committing to one spot to stare at.

“I wasn’t expecting…”

“What, are you gonna tell me it’s against school rules to strip in my own home?” he chides, throwing his shirt onto his bed behind him.

Ari tries his best to roll his eyes, to show that he’s as right as rain, but the flush of his ears and the stutter in his step betrays him. “That’s not…” His unstable voice trails off halfway through the excuse, when Hyojin turns back around and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweats.

Showing off his bare torso in all its glory, he’s not above flexing his muscles, ever so slightly, just to show Ari they exist. He knows he’s not as built or buff as Ari—he’s probably not even close—but he’s lean, and healthy, and he knows how to work his assets.

One asset in particular has seemed to catch Ari’s eye.

Along Hyojin’s stomach, starting from just the bottom of his sternum and travelling all the way to the start of his navel, is...

Is...

Ari gulps.

Surely not.

[to be continued...]

Chapter Text

「 february 24 | saturday | 8:59pm 」

School President Ari Astutia may be a lot of things, but blind is not one of them.

And as he stares at a bare torso of porcelain skin before him, his suspicions are confirmed.

Hyojin Carys has a tattoo.

On his stomach, no less.

It’s a geometric pattern—one made of lines and circles that resemble moons. Black lines against pale skin, the ink running along a flat, smooth-toned, almost soft-looking stomach… Ari can’t seem to look away.

“Tat—” his voice cracks at the word, and he blinks away the mystique of the situation, clearing his throat and making too obvious an attempt at staring Hyojin straight into his eyes. “Tattoos are… against school rules,” he mumbles.

Hyojin almost laughs. “Are they now?” he cries, shrugging with dramatics. “Wow, what a shame—guess I’ll go wipe this off.”

In the silence that follows, with Ari backed up against a wall with glazed eyes and Hyojin with a quirk in both his brow and mouth, neither of them dare say a word. Hyojin is tempted, but leaves the silence be for a few tantalizing seconds longer.

Watching Ari squirm is worth it.

And when Hyojin sees those brown eyes inevitably flick downwards—just for a half a second, if that—he chuckles. “Look,” he starts, acting with an air of nonchalance that he knows is irking the other, “just because I’m not a mafia boss, doesn’t mean I am a model student. You win some, you lose some; take what you can get.”

Ari is very much doing so. With his stolen glances, at least. It was rare enough to see Hyojin without an oversized sweater covering his torso—rare enough to see the actual way that Hyojin’s body was beautifully built.

But this—

This.

This is so much more than Ari is ready or willing to comprehend. 

His brain doesn’t know what to focus on. The fact that Hyojin has a tattoo, or the fact that Hyojin has a stomach tattoo, or the fact that Hyojin looks good with his tattoo, or the fact that Ari is starting to feel a shiver run down his spine, or the fact that some part of his overwhelmed mind wants to step forward and run a finger along the ink, or the fact that—

“I’m feeling an awful sense of deja vu,” Hyojin comments with a snort, posture still as nonchalant as ever with his hands in the pockets of his sweats. He cocks his head, strands of shaggy hair making way for a strong gaze to meet Ari’s. “You gonna stare all day, or what?”

When he gulps, Ari can feel the harshness of his own spit against a dry throat.

He needs a glass of water. Or a cold shower.

“Forgive me,” he mumbles, eyes finally averting from Hyojin’s stomach back to his eyes, in some common decency. Not that Hyojin is opposed to having Ari stare at his body. “It’s… It was just… unexpected.”

“Well, if you expected a lot of things about me, we’d have other problems.” He takes a seat, his mattress sinking beneath him, and leans back to brace his arms on the sheets. The fact that it’s winter holds no meaning to him—not when he can exploit his own shirtless body to a man that makes it oh so very fun to.

Ari stays where he is, a broad hand wrapped around a bicep to stabilise himself from where he stands in the hallway between the bed and the bathroom. “I guess you’re right,” he agrees with a short laugh, halfway between calm and nervous.

“When am I not?” From what Hyojin can see, the flush on Ari’s face has subsided, but the remnants keep his ears a vibrant red, peeking through swept-back brown strands.

They sweep by when Ari shakes his head. “Many times, Carys. But I… I trust your judgement, at least.”

Hyojin could almost laugh—at the power rush filling his lungs; at the pure giddy joy running through his veins. He may as well have Ari wrapped around his finger. Fuck, he might already.

With the knowledge of what's at stake, Hyojin knows his limits.

But he also knows that he’s nothing but a man with zero fucking impulse control.

“C’mere,” he commands with a hand, finding a sense of glory in his chest when Ari obeys him with nothing more said.

The president trusts his judgement, does he?

Well.

Hyojin knows just what to do with a boy too keen for his own good.

When Ari shuffles up to the bed and cranes his neck to look down, Hyojin feels a twitch in his body. And he’s never been one to hold back on impulses.

Without so much as a warning, simply because he deems it highly unnecessary, Hyojin reaches up, hooks a finger onto a hanging necklace (because without a tie to pull, the necklace will have to do), and pulls Ari down to a more comfortable position. 

Comfortable for Hyojin, that is.

But somehow, possibly due to the months of being victim to Hyojin’s antics, Ari barely bats an eye on the way down—instead, bracing his arms on each side of Hyojin and showcasing a genuine smile. “What’s on your mind?”

Hyojin hums. “I’ve been hit by an idea.”

“Do tell.” Ari humors him, for neither the better nor the worse.

A chuckle falls out of Hyojin before he can help it. “Eager, aren’t we?” He’s going to play this boy like a finely-tuned fiddle—and by the looks of it, both of them seem perfectly happy about that arrangement. “Y’sure you’ll even like it, prez?”

“It’s you,” he answers, eyes curling with a grin. “Of course I won’t.”

With the guidance of his hand on a shoulder, Hyojin gets Ari down to his knees, right before him. Like this, Hyojin is the one with a couple inches of height. Not a significant amount—but enough.

Ari has no issue kneeling. He sees nothing else beyond the simple act.

He and Hyojin are two very different people.

But when Hyojin sees those brown eyes flicker down to his stomach again—once, twice, never more than half a second—he thinks they may be more alike than they think.

He leans his body forward, thinning the gap between them and forcing them to speak in hushed tones despite the otherwise empty apartment. Letting his left hand continue twirling the necklace chain between his fingers, he lifts the other and tilts Ari’s face up with the gentle touch of his index under his chin.

Like this, with his finger controlling Ari’s movements, and with Ari’s twinkling eyes staring up at him…

Hyojin didn’t have much hesitation for his own greedy plans in the first place, but he most certainly doesn’t have room for any now. “I’m going to kiss you,” he tells Ari, “and if you don’t want that, tell me now.”

Ari blinks. “Wait— Carys, wait—”

A man of his word, Hyojin halts himself from going further, but keeps his face close enough to Ari’s that their voices stay in whispers. “You’re wondering why.”

“Yes, I’m wondering why! ” Ari hisses, eyes darting between Hyojin’s. “Why would— Why are you—”

Hyojin tilts his head, entirely aware of the way Ari watches his every move. “ This is my next ploy, prez. And if I remember correctly, you said you’d go along with it— ‘no questions asked’, hmm?”

“Wha— When I offered that, kissing you was not the deal I was expecting!” the man before him sputters, though his body shows no signs of hiding away.

“Sounds like a you problem,” Hyojin replies with a shrug. When Ari pouts, he feels himself falter and sigh. “Listen, prez. We have an act to keep up. If we’re gonna convince people that this is more than just a hormonal adolescent fling, we need to up our game—and if the shit I’ve seen in the hallways is any sign of what counts as a ‘relationship’ nowadays, then we’re gonna need to do a lot fucking more than premarital hand-holding. ”

Ari’s lips stutter with a breath. “Or… we could… just be a couple that… is private and— and respects everyone else in the line-of-sight—”

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Hyojin takes that finger of his and runs it along the smooth, freshly-shaven jaw of the school president.

With every inch of skin explored by his hand, the blush on Ari’s ears grows stronger—Hyojin can barely hold himself back.

“From the looks of your reaction,” he whispers, igniting a flame in Ari’s chest, “you’d like it.”

He feels Ari gulp, and meets brown eyes in a hushed stare. Pink lips open ajar, slightly, but are home to no words.

If Hyojin didn’t know any better, he’d think Ari was contemplating the pros and cons of agreeing.

But Hyojin does know better—and that is exactly what Ari is doing.

“It’d be practice,” Hyojin offers, though he knows it definitely fucking won’t be. “You get used to kissing me, and maybe we do it once or twice in public, and people will think we’ve got enough chemistry to be physical.”

Something about the way Ari continues staring directly at him, as opposed to shying away, tells Hyojin that this might be the greatest idea he’s ever had. “You want to fake chemistry?” Ari asks, voice so quiet Hyojin can hear his heartbeat through his throat.

“I can fake a lot more than that, sweetheart.” He chuckles through a hum, fingers still playing with the chain of the necklace. “This can mean nothing if you want it to mean nothing,” he says. “It’s kissing; not a blood contract.”

Ari doesn’t give him as quick an answer as he’d hoped—for a while, it’s simply them, the stagnant air, and his finger twirled around a necklace.

He can almost see Ari’s thoughts through his eyes. That’s the thing about the president—if you look hard enough, if you pay close enough attention, all of him spills out of his eyes like a waterfall waiting for someone to sit and listen to its waves.

It’s a thing Hyojin can admire, when he’s not busy using it to his own selfish advances. A man who wears his heart on his sleeves and his thoughts in his eyes—that’s the man Hyojin finds himself enraptured with.

It's a strange kind of story. Almost a funny one.

“What about you?” Ari is blinking up at him, long lashes fluttering ever so slightly. “What would it mean to you?”

Stupidly enough, Hyojin thinks he doesn’t have an answer for that.

He thinks it would be nothing—just like it always has been.

But he looks at Ari, in his hand, waiting for his answer, and wonders if it might be more than ‘just’. He wonders if he’s accidentally gotten himself addicted.

“Why?” he asks, with about as much sincerity as overgrown moss on a rock. “Having second thoughts?”

“No, I just—” The words disappear in his throat, and he sighs. “I… I’ve never…”

“You’ve never kissed anyone before, yes, I know. It would’ve been pretty fucking obvious without you even telling me.”

Ari’s cheeks puff up with a pout. “Thanks.”

“So, what?” Hyojin ponders, raising a brow. “You want your first kiss to be all sentimental, or something?”

With a shake of his head, Ari dismisses the idea. “No, no, that’s… well, it would be nice, but it’s not like I’m going to hold out for it.”

He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t had dreams about a first kiss beside a lake, or in front of the sunset, or underneath the stars…

But he’d also be lying if he said the opportunity in front of him didn’t sound enticing, to say the least.

“This will— Uh, this… is fine.”

Hyojin scoffs. “Oh, I’ll make it more than just fine, you uptight dickwad.”

“I—” he clears his throat.

Did he brush his teeth this morning? Yes. Yeah, he did, all good. Oh, shit, he ate his mom’s garlic pasta for breakfast. Is his breath okay? He hopes it’s okay. Oh, he really hopes his breath isn’t all garlicky. That’ll be downright embarrassing.

Would Hyojin mind? Oh, who is he kidding, Hyojin probably doesn’t care. Hopefully he doesn’t care, because, well, Ari will probably taste all garlicky and that’ll be the worst for the both of them and, christ, he wants to brush his teeth just to make sure. “Can y—”

Using Ari’s chin as leverage, Hyojin holds it between his fingers and pulls the school president in, unceremoniously knocking their lips together.

It’s the tamest kiss Hyojin has ever given. It’s the clumsiest he’s ever received. 

Though he must say—it might also be the softest.

(And of all people…)

In the grasp of Hyojin’s hand, Ari wonders what kissing actually feels like.

The initial execution of this plan might have stumped him, sure, but he’s not an idiot—he knows that this… well, as nice as it is, it’s nothing more than skin against skin.

Practice, as Hyojin called it.

Is it bad that he… likes it?

When Hyojin pulls away, and Ari loses the feeling of lips against his own, any and all doubt of his is squandered.

He wants more of this.

He wants more than this.

Just barely apart, Hyojin laughs in a hushed tone—and Ari never thought he’d find Hyojin’s laugh anything beyond irritating, but here he is, eyes half-lidded at the feeling of stuttering breaths on his lips. 

“God,” Hyojin mumbles, totally not intentionally leaving his lips to brush against Ari’s on every word, “you are so shit at this.”

A shiver runs through Ari’s spine when Hyojin’s hand wraps around his nape, callused fingers playing with the short hairs. “You… caught me off-guard,” he argues, swallowing dry between every word.

“I think I gave you plenty fucking time to prepare,” is the hummed response. Ari is far too aware of the way Hyojin’s fingers, against the back of his neck, trail down ever so slightly—inching closer and closer to the collar of his shirt, and right back up. “You ever heard of the phrase ‘practise makes perfect’, prez?” 

He’s teasing.

Ari knows it—and he can’t do anything but sit there and take it.

(Not can’t.)

(Won’t.)

“Then let’s practice.” Fuck it, he says to himself. I’ll indulge in whims just this once. “Teach me.”

Hyojin laughs again—harsh and unfiltered—and tugs Ari’s face even closer, if it were possible. “Sure you can handle me, pretty boy?”

With a surge of confidence, probably completely unjustified, Ari smiles. “I told you I’m always up for a challenge.”

And there are those glowing eyes again, burning red beneath the brown. Every inch of Hyojin could make the perfect artwork—and Ari the perfect artist. “You just love to play with fire,” he chuckles, “don’t you, prez?”

Not one to wait for an answer, Hyojin reconnects their lips in a holy matrimony of selfish urges and simply being too weak to ignore how amazing Ari’s lips feel against his own.

He sets a rhythm; he sets a pace. And is overjoyed beyond compare when Ari not only lets him, but follows.

‘A challenge,’ he says he wants. Alright. Hyojin can give him that—and so much fucking more.

Satisfied with the way Ari rocks his head to follow Hyojin’s pushing and pulling, Hyojin decides there’s never been a better time in history to be the most impulsive motherfucker on the planet.

So he swipes his tongue across Ari’s lips. Once. Twice. He tests the waters.

And when Ari’s mouth falls open with a gasp, and stays open… Hyojin is simply a man at the mercy of an oasis. An oasis with more academic achievements than Hyojin will ever know exist. An oasis with the reputation of the unattainable; the untouchable; the high and mighty. The student body president.

Who is, currently, either the most devilish man Hyojin has ever met, or a clueless bastard to the way his body leans into the kiss, rendering the grasp Hyojin has on his neck useless.

It’s definitely not the first time he’s made out with someone—definitely not the first time he’s had someone panting into his mouth, skin against his skin, body begging for more.

But it is definitely the first time he’s enjoyed it this much. Who knew that a kiss could feel so… electric.

A slave to his instincts, Hyojin runs his hands along Ari’s toned shoulders, leaning down and holding his palms against fabric, inching closer and closer and closer and—

Ari’s waist was one made for holding. Sculpted to such absolute perfection in his palms that Hyojin could lose himself in the euphoria of it. He doesn’t think it could get much better.

But then—

But then.

Ari crawls up.

Completely, and unbelievably, by his own volition, Ari pulls his body up and onto the bed, bracketing Hyojin’s body with his legs. And Hyojin just might fucking lose it.

He’s holding back— has been holding back—but if Ari acts like this, well… 

Jesus can’t have died for nothing, right?

Who is Hyojin not to commit a couple thousand sins?

The fabric of his own shirt feels soft between his fingers as he pulls it up and out of Ari’s jeans, half-closed eyes gauging a reaction from brown eyes when he cups his hands against that stupidly perfect fucking waist again, bare skin on bare skin.

“Mmph,” is a sound that escapes Ari’s throat, low and guttural, and Hyojin is nothing but a weak man—a weak man with his tongue down the school president’s throat.

Ari seems just as hypnotised, losing himself and any of his shame as he brings his hands close, holding each side of Hyojin’s neck with broad palms against skin and wavy hair.

So warm, Hyojin thinks to himself, mentally groaning at the little sounds Ari makes that vibrates into his own throat, not exactly staying quiet either.

(Thank god his walls are somewhat soundproof.)

Hyojin’s hands dance along the expanse of Ari’s broad back, exploring crevices he has free reign of. Across smooth skin and hidden muscles; across skin so soft and supple that Hyojin can’t believe he hasn’t already done this.

Tracing a finger along the spine; tracing a finger along a shoulderblade; tracing a finger along the spine; cupping his hands on either side of the ribs and moving down, down, down.

He can’t stop himself from smiling against Ari’s lips when his fingers make contact with two indents on Ari’s lower back—on each side of his spine, right above the top of his jeans.

As if he couldn’t get any more perfect. 

“You have Venus dimples,” he chuckles, the sound echoing straight into Ari’s open and panting mouth.

If he were a fool, he’d think the school president just whined as a response. Maybe he did. Maybe Hyojin is just drunk off the air. Maybe both. “I—” he stammers, lips still rocking onto Hyojin’s through quick breaths, “have… have— what? Ve… what?”

Hyojin can only laugh lowly at the reaction, seeing a spark of red behind his eyes before he rests his thumbs against each dimple…

And presses in.

Involuntarily, or perhaps of free will, the pressure brings Ari crumbling into Hyojin’s arms with a shudder—and Hyojin thinks this is nothing more than the Devil’s temptation.

“Y’know,” Hyojin breathes out, adamant on making this as memorable as he possibly can, “they say that people with Venus dimples get more pleasure out of sex than the usual person.”

If Ari is flustered, Hyojin can’t tell. Not with all the red along his cheeks already from all the huffing and puffing and sucking Hyojin’s lips like they’re a lifeline. “Wh—”

“Good circulation, and all that shit,” he continues, finding it hard to concentrate on teasing when Ari is pushing his body flush into Hyojin’s, all their senses melting into one.

For someone who’s never kissed before, Ari sure is one hell of a natural.

They’d passed the point of no return about twenty fucking lightyears ago, so Hyojin decides to do something about it.

It’s not like Ari would argue.

So he finally separates their lips, much to Ari’s audible dismay. The complaint doesn’t last long, though—not when merely half a second later, Hyojin’s lips are suckling on an untouched neck.

Hyojin has never been one for sweets, but he can make an exception just this once. After all, when Ari Astutia’s neck tastes like vanilla and honey and everything good in the whole fucking multiverse, why wouldn’t he indulge?

“Apparently,” he grunts out, still massaging said dimples as he does everything but sink his teeth into Ari’s neck, “your orgasms could be tenfold of everyone else’s.” Random internet information really helps in times like these, Hyojin thinks. He’s having the time of his goddamned life.

Ari is heaving into the air through quick stuttering breathes, eyes screwed shut and throat vibrating at every push and prod of Hyojin’s fingers on his back; every tug and pull of his lips on his neck. “Why would— How should I know—”

“I’m just stating a fact, prez, not offering to demonstrate,” he barks out with a laugh, no fool to the effect of his wandering hands and curious tongue. “Unless you want me to, that is,” he muses. “Well? Wanna see if the internet is right?”

He thinks he hears Ari downright moan.

Either that, or he’s finally gone fucking insane.

But if being insane gets him a prize as impeccable as the school president moaning in his lap, slap a straightjacket on him and throw him over the grand fucking canyon if you want—it’d be worth it.

“Ca… Carys, you,” Ari chokes out, huffing as his head lolls down to rest on Hyojin’s shoulder, “are… so— so— ”

He can’t bring himself to stop his stutter, nor can he bring himself to pull away. No one has ever touched him before—let alone like this.

And he hates that he loves it.

He hates that he wants more.

He hates that he… doesn’t actually hate it.

“So what, prez?” Hyojin hums, fingers travelling across a waist and against a defined v-line, dangerously close to Ari’s waistband.

Wrapped around Hyojin’s neck, his hands grow sweaty with a lack of movement. A lack of running his palms on Hyojin’s body just as much as Hyojin’s is on his own.

He doesn’t know who engages first, but by the time Ari notices what’s happened, Hyojin is already lying back on his bed, with Ari straddling him. Despite the lack of locked lips, Ari still feels like he’s burning from the inside out; being eaten alive by brown eyes roving across his body. Hyojin’s hands are resting on his hips, the denim of his jeans barely stopping the sparks.

But Hyojin is lying back now, torso bare, hair frazzled, lips red, and tattoo staring Ari right in the face—begging to be given more attention.

When he lays his fingers onto a sternum, he sees Hyojin throw his head back in a rolling motion, reverberating throughout his entire body. Ari chooses not to focus on the way Hyojin’s hips rock up into his own, and instead focus on tracing the ink on Hyojin’s body.

He’s glad to have broad hands, now. When he can lay his palm on Hyojin’s pliant stomach—soft skin a complete and utter contrast to everything the man that owns it stands for—and have his thumb almost on one side of Hyojin’s waist; his pinky on the other; his middle finger a perfect position to trace the intricately geometric lines of ink with almost too much care.

From the middle of his chest, all the way down to his belly button, he fascinates himself with the beauty of black ink on porcelain skin. On his hips, Hyojin’s knuckles turn white with grip as he chokes out a chuckle.

“You’re getting awfully confident,” he hisses, words rumbling through his throat in waves. There’s no fucking way Ari doesn’t know what he’s doing, by this point. 

Ari hums, watching with careful eyes at the way Hyojin’s hair pools around his neck against the bed; the way his ears turn red beneath the piercings; the way his brown eyes stare up at Ari through half-closed lids. “You started it,” he mumbles.

With a bark of laughter against Ari’s palm on his stomach, Hyojin surges up again, chest pressing against Ari’s—the latter of which realises he’s been sitting in Hyojin’s lap, full weight, for a time entirely too long. “Did I now?”

He’s obviously not looking for an answer; especially not when he crashes their lips together once again, giving into his own cravings. But Ari just tastes so goddamn sweet —how could he not?

Lost in the feeling of Ari’s tongue dancing with his own, Hyojin barely registers the sound of his phone ringing. Even when he does notice it, he chooses to ignore it in lieu of running his hands up Ari’s back again. 

He’s only had the chance just for the night, but he feels he’s developed a penchant for it. Not that he’s going to argue.

Between relentless kisses—of which he’s not fighting, just for your information—Ari gasps out pieces of words. “You should— answer— tha—”

“Rather not,” Hyojin bites back, enjoying the feeling of Ari’s soft lips far too much. “More important things to do.”

“Like,” Ari gulps, “like what?”

He’s thrown for a loop when Hyojin’s hands bury themselves on the bottom of his thighs, and he grins. “Like this.” And the next thing Ari knows, his back is against a soft mattress, with Hyojin’s face hovering above his own.

He’s swapped their positions.

For a second, Hyojin laughs, and Ari has to force himself to not fall for more of Hyojin’s tricks—when he leans in, Ari presses a finger against chapped lips. “Phone,” he breathes out.

Hyojin wraps a hand around Ari’s, pulling it a few inches away, before leaning in and kissing the palm; the wrist; trailing down the forearm. “You,” he answers.

Just when he thought Hyojin couldn’t get more devilish—he goes and surprises him yet again. Ari should really be used to this by now. But it’s a great feat to be able to handle Hyojin Carys.

He can attribute some skills to himself, at least. Like now—when he can see that glowing look in Hyojin’s eyes, and knows there’s an idea brewing in that head of his.

Before he can dwell on it, Hyojin is reaching over his head to his still-ringing phone, swiping the screen, and holding it to Ari’s ear.

Then he smiles.

And Ari realises he’s fucked.

“Hyojin?” comes from the phone, genuine curiosity in a cheerful voice. “Hello?”

He blinks up at the man hovering above him, body pressed into his, and furrows his brow. Does he… does he really want Ari to answer in this situa—

“Speak,” Hyojin commands, voice lower than a whisper, flowing over Ari in waves and making the hairs on his body stand on their ends,

Ari gulps. He tries to calm himself down; tries to cool down his systems and steady his voice enough for it all to remain unrevealed. “He—” Oh, god, his throat is too hoarse for this— “Hello, Jaime.”

There’s a slight hesitation on the other end before, “Oh! Ari? Hey, Ari! Are you with Hyojin?”

“Uh.” Ari clears his throat, hands sweaty from where they lay, now pinned under Hyojin’s knees. “Yeah. Yeah, he's, um—” He’s watching me right now. “A bit… bit busy right now. Can I— I can take a message for him, if you’d like?”

“Nah, that's okay. I was just calling to ask if he's coming to Yuki's party tonight,” Jaime answers, completely innocent. Some part of Ari’s consciousness feels guilty.

“Maki’s party?” Ari asks, throat becoming drier by every second spent under Hyojin’s harsh gaze. He tries not to focus on Hyojin’s face leaning down; leaning closer. Please, please, he begs, for the love of every god in every universe and religion, do not, “We’re actually—”

When he feels a warm tongue against his Adam’s apple, a sinful sound pops out of his soul, completely involuntary and downright lewd. He hasn’t even had the time to recover before a heavy sigh echoes through the phone and into his eardrum, and his entire biological system shuts down out of embarrassment.

And throughout it all, Hyojin is laughing. In a tiny morsel of mercy, he finally pulls back, though he keeps his body on Ari’s, and puts the phone on speaker. "Hyojin," a stern voice says over the phone, belonging to one Maki Hino—making the entire situation worse by an astronomical amount. Ari thinks he can hear Jaime laughing in the background. "Jesus, man," Maki continues, "Listen—there's a time and a place!"

"You don't sound all that mad."

"Oh, I'm not. But warn us before you do something like this—give a heads up, or something. Sol knocked over a pot of pasta because of it, and now I have to clean that shit. Also, hi Ari, are you coming to my party?"

"Stop," Ari mumbles, trying his best to smother his face into the sheets beneath him. He swears he can feel the glares of a thousand ancestors weighing down on him. "Please. I think I might die."

Hyojin hums at that, like he's concocted another plan. Ari might seriously be on his death bed. He just hopes that when he reached the pearly gates, God will grant him the small mercy of erasing this entire interaction out of his mind.

“We'll be there,” Hyojin replies, before hanging up.

In the silence that follows the call’s end, it all comes rushing back to him in a flash. All he wanted was to let himself indulge. No—all he wanted was to drive Hyojin to a party. No—all he wanted was a fake boyfri…

Okay.

He’s realised there hasn’t been a rational decision in his life for a significant amount of time.

Hell, all he really wanted, all that time ago, was to grant a favour to a misunderstood boy without a tie.

How did he get here?

By the time he comes back to the land of the living, there’s a significant lack of weight on his limbs. Taking the chance to curl himself into a ball of embarrassment and shame and guilty pleasure, he glances through messy bangs to watch Hyojin stalk off to the hallway towards the bathroom.

Hyojin rolls his neck, running a hand through his hair. God, that hair. Ari knows how soft it is, now. How it looks against a sweaty forehead. How it looks splayed across bedsheets. How it feels in his grip as he tugs…

A blush creeps up on him again, spreading across his entire body. He shakes his head and tries to put his beating heart aside. “Where are you…”

“To take a cold shower,” Hyojin answers, his bare back exposed. Ari shoves away all thoughts about how soft and supple Hyojin’s body was under his palms. Hyojin glances over his shoulder for a moment, eyes trailing up and down Ari’s figure before he chuckles. “Might wanna take care of that.”

From where he stays frozen on the bed in his little cocoon of unfortunate clarity, Ari glances down, and his breath hitches in his throat. Hyojin can’t help but laugh at the vibrancy of red along the president’s cheeks.

“Well?” he prods. “Are you going to let me go, or…?”

“N— No! Yes. I mean— yeah! Uh—” He keeps himself curled up in his self-hug, running sweaty hands through messy hair. “Don’t, uh. Don’t let me… keep you.”

One hand on the plaster wall, body half-twisted to stare down at Ari—in all his messy-clothes, messy-hair, messy-face glory—Hyojin chuckles. “You look all fucked-out,” he says, crimson eyes burning marks onto every inch of Ari’s body. “It’s a good look on you.”

Ari can’t find any willpower in himself to reply.

「 february 24 | saturday | 10:21pm 」

The car ride to Maki’s place is a lot of silence, Hyojin snickering under his breath, and Ari paying very close attention to the road and nothing else.

Not on the fact that Hyojin is wearing a sheer long-sleeve top that fails its job of being a piece of clothing, leaving that godforsaken tattoo out for full display; not on the fact that Hyojin is wearing tight black jeans that leave nothing to the imagination, and has Ari’s mind running circles to not think about the feeling of those legs underneath his thighs; not on the fact that Hyojin swapped out his usual jewellery for ones with more chains and crosses and gleaming silver—and that it suits him and his dark makeup to a T.

Not on the fact that Hyojin simply sitting in his passenger seat is giving Ari heart palpations.

Nope.

Just on the road.

Like a responsible, law-abiding, straight-laced, level-headed citizen.

When they pull up to the house, already overflowing with attendants and lost inhibitions, Ari has to take a deep breath to take his mind off the people recognising his car, no doubt in some sort of shock of the school president’s presence.

“You need to chill out.”

He turns to Hyojin, who’s leaning back into the seat with an air of nonchalance draped over intimidation and a smirk. “I’m… chill.”

Hyojin snorts. “Right.” At the entrance of the house, the pair spot Jaime giving a small wave, seemingly waiting for them to come join him. “He looks so fucking dopey,” Hyojin comments. “Guess I’ll go humour him.”

Before Hyojin turns and grabs the door handle, Ari grins despite himself. “You two are close nowadays,” he says. It earns him a scoff. “Friends, maybe?”

With a glance at the subject of the topic, Hyojin shrugs. “He’s not too annoying, I guess. But don’t worry.” Leaning over the middle console, Hyojin pulls Ari in by his jaw and lays a quick kiss on his lips. It’s over as soon as it started—it’s both too much and not enough. Ari decides to not think about it too hard. “You’re still my favourite to hate.”

A wink and a smile later, Hyojin props open the door and hops out.

“See you around, prez.” He blows another kiss to his fake boyfriend, just for good measure, and because he can’t help himself when Ari pouts all cute like that. “Try not to miss me too much.”

And with that, he’s gone.

For a few minutes, it’s just Ari, his car, and the crowd of people watching him from outside. Very much private. He takes a moment to just settle; to steel his nerves.

It’s just a high school house party. Sure, he’s never been to one before, but it can’t be that bad. In fact, all the movies make it seem great! All he can hope for now is that no one gets murdered, which is—truthfully—how low the bar is for him.

He wishes he had Hyojin with him. He’d probably make it easier to deal with everyone—in that, people probably wouldn’t even approach them. Easy fix.

Laying his head on his arms against the wheel, Ari sighs.

Students love him. These are students. It’ll be just like walking through the hallways. Except with loud music. And alcohol. And probably other (maybe illegal) stuff.

God.

He really wishes he’d agreed to all those parties his ma had invited him to. Maybe he just needs to channel his inner Minerva Astutia.

No, that would… that would probably land him behind bars for the night, so.

Maybe not.

Midway through his quarter-life crisis on the grand topic of walking into a high school house party, Ari jolts when he hears a knock at his window. At his side, face pressed up against the glass in a very unflattering way, is none other than Lucio. “Heya, Ari!” he calls out, grin wide. He’s definitely had a couple shots of something. “You actually showed up!”

Ari makes a motion for him to step away, and—thankfully—he’s sober enough to grasp the concept of not being hit by a car door.

After stepping out and locking his car, he turns to a Lucio with a grin on his face, a bottle of Canadian Club in his hand, and…

“Is your hair red— ”

“Are you wearing eyeliner? ” 

The pair stand there, pointing at each other, for half a second too long for Ari not to start thinking about Spiderman. He can’t help but laugh. “Carys,” he replies, elaboration unnecessary.

Lucio snorts. “Amir. They've got purple in theirs.”

“That’s quite bold.”

“It’s temporary,” Lucio answers, handing him the bottle and making them walk-and-talk. “Though I can’t say the same about my mental shock after seeing you in… well, this.”

As they approach the house, and brighter light than the dim streetlights, Ari snorts. “Trust me, I’m not all that used to it either. I might be getting chafing from these jea—”

Only half of his sentence is out of his mouth when Lucio grabs his shirt by the collar, pulling it open and exposing his collarbone. “Are those—” he gasps, eyes wide at the exposed skin, before pushing Ari back and covering his mouth. Quieter this time, just for the two of them to hear, he whispers, “Dude, cover up, at least. Are you trying to parade your new relationship around?”

Ari stares at him like a mad man spewing conspiracy theories. Who just randomly grabs their friends by their collars like that? (Well, besides a certain individual with piercings galore.) “What? What are you— What are you talking about, Luce?”

“Do you seriously not know?” He scoffs, brows furrowed.

“Evidently not,” Ari sighs, glancing around and lowering his voice. They’re already getting enough attention just by being Ari and Lucio. “Look, I know this isn’t exactly my usual type of fashion, but I don’t think—”

“I’m not talking about your clothes, you pathetic laundry bin,” Lucio hisses, “I’m talking about the hickeys on your neck .”

Ari blinks. “The what. ”

He’s thankful that Lucio, his best friend of ten or so years, knows him well enough to notice the difference between playing dumb and just pure fucking cluelessness—the latter being the current situation. “My god,” Lucio mutters under his breath, brows shooting up so high on his forehead they threaten to merge with his hairline.

A second of unfiltered disbelief later, and Lucio is dragging Ari into the house by his wrist. Winding around hallways and stairs, Ari waves and nods to the people he passes by force of habit, even if he doesn’t recognise them and is eighty per cent sure they don’t attend their school.

A few or so of the faces he sees go slack-jawed and wide-eyed at his presence, some of them even calling out his name as if to confirm it’s really him, the student body president of their school. As opposed to an evil twin counterpart of the Ari Astutia they know, with better style and the gall to show up to a party.

His name has never really left the tongues of students—not since he made a name for himself in freshman year—but this one will probably take the cake. This, or him dating Hyojin Carys. Or him dating. 

…It’s been an eventful couple of days.

Not quite finished with his deeply personal self-reflection with God, Ari gets shoved into a bathroom, followed by Lucio, and the loud bang! of the door closing.

Pushing the bottle in his hand away and onto the sink to forget about, Ari takes a look at himself in the mirror, and is more shocked than he’d like to admit at his own appearance. His hair still has Hyojin’s product in it—a styled comb-over that does wonders for his jaw structure—but it sticks up in places it’s not meant to. And the eyeliner that Hyojin put on him; it’s not quite over-the-top, but it’s smudged at the edges and fades around his eyes. His lips are redder than usual, and his neck…

Ah.

His neck.

They… really didn’t do a good job cleaning up, did they?

“Those are brutal, dude.” Lucio shakes his head, shuffling over and taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub. In the light, Ari can see the red streaks through his long hair more clearly. Though, he supposes that’s not really the thing to be focusing on right now. “How’d you not notice them?” Lucio sighs, holding the bridge of his nose. “How did— How’d you even get them in the first place?”

Ari clears his throat, adamantly not looking at his reflection. “Well, uh… I don’t… Carys was dressing me up, and then I saw his tattoo, and then— and then things just—”

“Actually, scratch that,” Lucio interrupts, holding up a hand for Ari to shut his trap, “I don’t want to know the ins and outs of my best friend’s sex life, thanks.”

“We didn’t—”

“Well you obviously got damn near close, if those are any indication!”

Ari has no defense for the accusation, and it seems Lucio’s head has cleared off after raising his voice. They stay silent for a little, both rifling through their minds on just where to start.

“Sorry,” Lucio finally mumbles, though Ari isn’t sure what exactly he’s apologising for. “You’re just…” He sighs. “Now that you have Hyojin, you’ve been… different. Not that it’s a bad thing—I don’t mean it in that cliche movie way, nah, just like…

Leaning against the sink with his arms lazily crossed over, Ari listens without comment.

“It’s just unexpected, that’s all,” Lucio shrugs. “Hard to get used to. I mean— before all this, the riskiest thing you ever did was play Minecraft on hardcore mode, so. Sorry for the outburst.”

He’ll admit, the Minecraft comment did sting a bit, but only because it’s the truth. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for,” he says. And he really means it. “I know that being involved with Carys has brought an incredible amount of change to my life, trust me, I’m… more than aware of it.”

Lucio laughs at that, at the look of pure exasperation mixed with adoration in Ari’s face.

“I don’t really get it either,” Ari admits.

He looks down at his hands in the harsh white lighting; at the lines of his palms. These were the hands that were buried in Hyojin Carys’ hair. These were the hands that had roamed Hyojin Carys’ body; the hands that brought him coffee and breakfast—the hands that have tied his tie for him, day in and day out.

No, he really doesn’t get it.

Why does he… enjoy this all so much?

“He definitely brings excitement and adventure, I’ll admit.”

Lucio barks out a laugh. “Mischief, too.” He shakes his head, reaching up to tie his hair back into a high pony. “But I trust you, man. You’re not dumb enough to get into shit situations, so, I’m not gonna worry about it.”

“He won’t put me in them in the first place,” Ari argues, eyes solid and sure in their gaze. “He’s not that type of person, Luce. Really.”

With a hum, Lucio braces his elbows on his knees, staring up at his best friend. “I love you, Ari. You know I do. But opinions are difficult to change sometimes—and I know Hyojin is a good person, has gotta be if you think he is, but…” he makes a motion with his hand, a sort-of ‘ehh’ reaction, “It’ll take me a while to forget the reputation, you know? To get used to him.”

“I understand that. But— well, I mean… Sure, he may be more unorthodox than I’m used to—than anyone around me is used to, but…” He finds himself biting the skin on his lip; a bad habit he thought had long-since died.

Part of him thinks this is definitely a conversation that should be saved for Not A Bathroom.

“I don’t think I hate it,” he admits. “I actually… have fun, with him. It’s all new, and exciting, and frankly, with him… I don’t think this phase will ever end. Nor do I want it to.”

This is definitely a conversation that should be reserved for a place that isn’t Maki’s bathroom.

After a while of silence, of hearing the tiny droplets of water from the tap, Lucio nods, and says, “I get it.” He smiles, then, up at Ari. Genuine, and wide, and sober. “I think you two are a good balance. I trust y’all will take the good sides of each other, all lovey-dovey and shit, you know?”

Ari chuckles. “Yeah. Sure.”

“ Man, ” Lucio exclaims, rolling his head. “Really thought I’d get someone first. Can’t believe you beat me.”

With a laugh all wheezy and imperfect and saved for a ten-year-old friendship, Ari teases, “You’ve had, what, three years to confess to Amir? I feel like this is your own fault, at this point.”

“It’s hard, dude!” Lucio scoffs, reaching up and shoving Ari by his arm. “Guess you don’t have to worry about that shit anymore, though. You and Hyojin… god, I wish I could have something like that with Amir.”

He means it well; he means it entirely too well. He’s so sincere in the comment that it makes Ari stumble a bit and makes his heart ache a little. Because it hits him—he’s too good at playing this game. He’s fooling his best friend. Him and Hyojin aren’t…

They aren’t real.

Either he doesn’t let his concern show, or Lucio doesn’t notice, because soon enough, Lucio is patting him on the shoulder, and, with a friendly smile and a couple uttered words of ‘see you later,’ is out of the room.

Alone in a bathroom at his first high school party, Ari is left to his own devices. Namely, overthinking and overcomplicating everything in his godforsaken life.

We’re not real, he thinks.

Then he sees himself in the mirror—and his eyes land on something that is definitely, undoubtedly, undeniably real:

The marks on his neck.

The marks that Hyojin Carys left on him.

Giving into lowly temptation, as it seems quite the night for it, Ari leans closer to the mirror and pulls on the collar of his shirt, exposing the vibrant red splotches of colour scattered across his jaw, neck, and all the way just below his collarbones.

A memoir of himself giving up and going by Hyojin’s word; his command.

It amazes him that Hyojin was able to do all of this—that he did do all of this.

He’s not all that surprised at his own actions; at going along with it all. There’d always been a small voice in the back of his mind, telling him that one day, it would be worth it to let go and fall. He just never thought that would include a bed, a lack of clothes, and Hyojin fucking Carys.

But with the absence of that voice, now having done its job and left to go on vacation, comes a new one.

One that can’t help but compare Ari and Hyojin in a way that Ari really wishes it wouldn’t.

Because this— this —is something that Hyojin is used to. That much is obvious. It’s something that’s an easy come and go for a guy like him—a guy that, when it comes down to it, Ari knows next to nothing about.

They’re not nearly as close as he’d like to believe. It’s a sad truth.

He looks at himself in the mirror again, catching sight of glossy brown eyes, swollen red lips, and a neck possessed by the touch of Hyojin… and he gets it. He knows that to Hyojin, all of this , everything that happened in his room, and everything else—was just as he said it was.

Practice.

But the thing is…

Ari doesn’t think it can be the same for himself.

「 february 25 | sunday | 12:30am 」

Turns out, a fake boyfriend and a couple rumours weren’t the solution to all of Hyojin’s problems.

Who knew.

He’s alone, leaning on the stove of Maki’s upstairs kitchen, alone, taking recreational swigs of Tsingtao, alone, while watching people mingle around him, alone, on the balcony and couches around him.

Tonight has shown him an inevitable truth. When he’s not accompanied by the school president to act as a buffer, people are still unable to approach him.

He guesses it’s partially his fault, what with his style and his constant glare.

(What? He can’t help it. The world deserves to be glared at, at all times. Sue him.)

When he’s with Jaime, and Kalliopi, and maybe Dylan... he feels somewhat normal, sure. Jaime makes a point of including him in the group. Kalliopi is a nice person. Simon knows formalities. Dylan just sits there (fortunately).

But Hyojin knows, deep down, that people see him and see an outcast. They see a group of friends—and him. An extension. Something out of place.

At least with Ari, it can just be the two of them. The guy’s got his own friends, but they’re not a boyfriend. With Ari, Hyojin is seen as one half of a whole. Or… something like that.

With a sigh, and ignoring the usual stares on him, he takes another swing of his drink, letting the cold liquid run down his throat.

In reality, he doesn’t care all that much. He genuinely couldn’t give a fuck—he hasn’t given one since he found himself in the backseat of a police car on his first day at a new school.

But what bothers him is that Ari might care about it.

And that might mean something for their little contract.

“Am I interrupting?”

「 february 25 | sunday | 12:29am 」

“That one. By the streetlight.”

“I see it.”

“Yeah,” Zoe nods, manicured nail pointing to a faraway constellation in the dead of night. “It looks like a lady.”

Lowering the bottle of Tequila from his lips and squinting at said constellation, Jaime tilts his head. “...No it doesn’t.”

“Uh, yeah it does.”

From beside it, Jaime turns his head and raises a singular brow at Zoe.

“Look,” it shrugs, “I’m a star expert, so I know my stuff.”

“No, Zoe, you’re just a lesbian.”

Ari finds Jaime and his group of friends sitting by the pool, legs dunked halfway into the water, after a few minutes of searching the house and avoiding people so plastered they probably won’t remember tonight.

Unfortunately, in the group of five, the man he’s been searching for is missing.

He sighs, but makes his way down to the group anyway. Jaime spots him before he can say anything, waving him over with a wide grin. “The man of the hour.”

“Hey, Jaime,” he greets, not sitting down with the group, but lingering beside the poolside and watching the ripples Jaime’s legs make in the water.

The person sitting next to him leans back, long blonde-and-pink hair flowing with the movement, to look at Ari better. “Is that… eyeliner?”

Before Ari even thinks about answering the question, he recognises the person as Zoe—and he furrows his brow. “Aren’t you a freshman?” he asks, eyeing the Midori Illusion in its hand.

“...Uh.”

“Stop scaring the children, Ari,” Jaime laughs, swiftly saving the situation. Beside him, Zoe sips on its drink and looks adamantly away from Ari. “Strict isn’t a good look on you.”

Ari tilts his head. “I’m the school president.”

A sound half-hum-half-chuckle escapes Jaime’s throat, before he takes a swig of the bottle in his hand. “Well, anyway. What’s up? I don’t think you’re just here to hang.”

“Sorry to say you’re right,” Ari answers, eyes still roaming around the area, waiting to land on a wolfcut and a tattoo. “I’m looking for Carys; I haven’t seen him since we got here.”

“Ah, you just missed him,” comes another voice, sitting beside Zoe and stealing a sip of its Midori. It’s Simon again—Ari recognises him fully now. It irks him that he’s never greeted the guy under normal circumstances. “I think he was talking about getting something from the kitchen? No guarantee, but I think that’ll be your best bet.”

Ari nods, trying to remember the way to said kitchen. “Alright. Thank you. I’ll see you guys around, yeah?”

And with that, he strides off into the house, winding through crowds both calm and crazed, using his instincts to find the kitchen in a house bordering a mansion.

When he finally finds Hyojin, he finds him standing alone with a half-empty beer in his hand, head lowered. His hair covers his eyes, and his breathing is so steady that part of Ari thinks he’s fallen asleep standing up.

“Am I interrupting?” he asks, already making his way over.

At his voice, Hyojin lifts his head slightly, eyes still somewhat covered by black bangs. He smiles, half-genuine. “And if I said you are?”

“Well, that’s never stopped you before,” Ari responds with a lilted laugh, leaning on the kitchen island right across from Hyojin.

He’s well aware of the increase of eyes on him, and is certain Hyojin is just as aware.

But it’s not like they were expecting privacy at a house party.

“How’re you finding your first party?” Hyojin asks, a familiar tinge of tease in his tone.

Ari shrugs. “Fun, I suppose. I don’t think I have a big enough social battery for things like this,” he admits.

As he goes on a ramble about his internal debates on whether he’s an introvert or an extrovert, Hyojin leans his head back by an angle, catching a better sight on the president’s exposed neck.

Tanned skin has been covered in little splotches of purple here and there, drawing attention to themselves like a glowing streetlight in a dim alleyway. There’s no way Ari hasn’t noticed them—even less chance that everyone else here haven’t noticed either.

By now, they all know exactly who gave their school president hickeys.

Who else, other than the notorious criminal of their school?

It makes him smile, all fangs and gleaming white. What makes it even better are the eyes currently on them—the people on the balcony, and the rooms around the kitchen, continuously glancing at the pair.

He can’t blame them. After all, it’s the hit couple. Everyone is waiting on the next big move—as if the marks on Ari’s neck wasn’t enough.

And maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the way Ari’s smile reaches his eyes, but Hyojin is very, very down to give the students the headlines that they’re craving.

When he moves into Ari’s space, gladly leaving no room for Jesus between them, Ari’s rambling trails off to stare down at Hyojin with wide eyes.

“Hi there,” Hyojin whispers, obsessed with the way Ari’s eyes stutter in the movement, just barely looking him in the eyes.

“Hi?” He clears his throat, hands braced against the marble countertop, trapped between Hyojin’s limbs. “You’re… awfully close.”

Hyojin tilts his head, letting his hair fall past his eyes just that little bit. He wonders if Ari knows how obvious he is. “Have to be close to kiss you, right?”

“To— to what?” At that, Ari’s eyes shoot across the room, no doubt calculating the amount of people witnessing the scene. “I…” He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing and brows furrowing. Hyojin thinks he’ll never get tired of that pleading look. 

Definitely in the Top Ten.

“I have a reputation to uphold, Carys,” he mumbles, eyes downturned.

Hyojin scoffs. “You’re a high school student body president, not a greek fucking god. You can afford to make out with me at a party.”

Ari intakes a breath so heavily his chest puffs up against Hyojin’s, eyes fluttering from the crowd to Hyojin’s gaze, back and forth, debating the consequences.

“C’mon,” Hyojin chides. “Don’t let all that practice go to waste.”

Tanned ears go red with a flush—and Hyojin knows he’s won.

“Well?”

Ari covers his ears, trying to calm the heat rushing up on his cheeks. “Fine,” he mumbles. “But just a kiss. Nothing more, alright?”

“I’m not an animal, prez, don’t worry.” He can’t stop himself from smiling. “I can control myself.”

He gets narrowed eyes in response. “Can you?”

Hyojin’s answer is his lips against Ari’s, wiping away that growing smirk on the president’s face in an instant.

And this…

He definitely won’t get tired of this.

He’s kissed a plenty amount of people a plenty amount of times. There’s been good ones, but he’s not above admitting that Ari might be the best. He’s clumsy, and hesitant, and completely out of his bubble… but oh, the effort.

There’s a good amount of eyewitnesses, and with an even better majority of them either shitfaced or on the road to it.

If there’s one thing he knows about these people, it’s that with alcohol in them and in the heat of the party atmosphere, all of their shame will be null. There’s going to be pictures everywhere and words even more so—it’ll spread like wildfire.

Good.

He’s counting on that.

⦗ ┅ ⦘

marble <3 @gexsio

hyojin feeling up ari in makis kitchen was honestly the mood of the century

🌑😎  @makbelline
Replying to @gexsio

hyojin was doing what in my kitchen

⦗ ┅ ⦘

ali/echo @ghostwire

did you guys…. see ari……. last night……………….

🌊waves❄️ @waveswanders
Replying to @ghostwire

he was at the party???

ali/echo @ghostwire
Replying to @waveswanders

west he was wearing eyeliner

🌊waves❄️ @waveswanders
Replying to @ghostwire

IM SORRY?

⦗ ┅ ⦘

moon @moonlvster_

ARIASUITUA?1?!>@!#? EYELR;IONER?@!?@# SHIRT.1KUOIUEH CRYSUPIRCVINGS HAKR/??@$8DKJJAEW

rk! @rkxin_
Replying to @moonlvster_

you good?

moon @moonlvster_
Replying to @rkxin_

NO

⦗ ┅ ⦘

eve ✦ @eveluvspatches

okay LISTEN. LISTEN TO ME. I know he's probably wanted by the state but guys. GUYS… hear me out…….… that carys kid kinda……..

dev :) @NETHERW4RT
Replying to @eveluvspatches

I WILL NOT BE HEARING YOU OUT

eve ✦ @eveluvspatches
Replying to @NETHERW4RT

DID YOUNNOT SEE WHAR HE QAS WEAIRNG???!?!? HE WAS HOT

dev :) @NETHERW4RT
Replying to @eveluvspatches

EVE HE MIGHT SEE THIS

eve ✦ @eveluvspatches
Replying to @NETHERW4RT

AND?? WHATS HE GONNA DO? MURDER ME?????

dev :) @NETHERW4RT
Replying to @eveluvspatches

I HOPE HE DOES

eve ✦ @eveluvspatches
Replying to @NETHERW4RT

WTF

h.  @hyojincarys
Replying to @eveluvspatches

lol

eve ✦ @eveluvspatches
Replying to @hyojincarys

jholyylfcu k

⦗ ┅ ⦘

ghost @ghostiella

to whoever was making out on the stove.. I applaud you guys. Looked like something out of a coming of age movie

rk! @rkxin_
Replying to @ghostiella

that was ari and hyojin lmao

ghost @ghostiella
Replying to @rkxin_

IT WAS WHO ?>?????/

rk! @rkxin_
Replying to @ghostiella

have you not seen the photo of them going around tl

ghost @ghostiella
Replying to @rkxin_

obviously not???

⦗ ┅ ⦘

XIAOFEI !! @XFWasHere

president ari in eyeliner was something i never knew i needed until i saw it and now i cant live without it. Someone get that man a liner for his birthday.

amir! @MIMIMIZIMI
Replying to @XFWasHere

xiaofei?????

XIAOFEI !! @XFWasHere
Replying to @MIMIMIZIMI

he looked hot idk what you want me to say here

⦗ ┅ ⦘

DENTRO || @One1Roi

did anyone see ari and hyojin making out last night or was that just a fever dream of mine

GM @GMwastaken
Replying to @One1Roi

NO I SAW IT TOO HOLY SHIT I THOUGHT I WAS GOING CRAZY

meredith dardenne apologist @sxlainewashere
Replying to @One1Roi

I saw it. wish I hadn’t.

🔥luce @VOlucANioN
Replying to @sxlainewashere and @One1Roi

fucking retweet

zoe @lobsnter
Replying to @One1Roi

when will it be my turn </3

🌑😎 @jaimzoen

Replying to @lobsnter

?

zoe @lobsnter
Replying to @jaimzoen

YOU WERENHT SPOOIED TIO SESE THGIS

⦗ ┅ ⦘

reha! @nilhaerua

who knew ari was a slut

ran ♡ @80ramiens
Replying to @nilhaerua

the pqrt is me its neg <3

reha! @nilhaerua
Replying to @80ramiens

choke and dye <3

jonesy (kota crappyravioli simp) @andthentheybow
Replying to @nilhaerua

all it took was a guy with a criminal record

hiccup @stardustlips
Replying to @andthentheybow and @nilhaerua

ari rn

[Criminal — Britney Spears]

⦗ ┅ ⦘

shi @shibrainrot

gay people

moon @moonlvster_
Replying to @shibrainrot

is this about astutia and carys

shi @shibrainrot
Replying to @moonlvster_

it was about me and you but them too yeah

[to be continued...]

Chapter Text

「 february 25 | sunday | 3:00am 」

Having just scrolled past an hour’s worth of reactions from the student body to his little adventure tonight, Ari sits alone in his car on the driveway.

He’s just dropped Hyojin off at his own place, and though he had spent the minutes between Hyojin’s apartment and his house mentally preparing himself in advance, seeing pictures of him and Hyojin on his screen still sends jolts to his spine.

(Definitely not because he sees those photos, of their bodies pressed together, and remembers the feeling of Hyojin’s lips on his.)

(Definitely not.)

He’s both excited and a little afraid of what school will be like come Monday—of how people will look at him now, with the moments of tonight branded into their minds.

If Twitter is any indication to go by, he suspects he’ll be receiving a good mix of compliments, questions, and harsh glances. 

Halfway through a long thread of someone screaming about how hot Hyojin looked tonight, the Devil himself shows up in a text notification at the top of Ari’s screen.

glad to see you can let loose, he says, probably suspecting Ari to already be cuddling himself into his bed, and not… well… staring at pictures of them making out.

Hyojin Carys

glad to see you can let loose

tonight was fun

It was

Tomorrow will be even more so

Try to get some rest; we’ll have a lot to deal
with when we get back to school

wouldnt have it any other way

I figured.

you love me

Go to sleep, Carys

Taking his own words to heart, he finally gets out of his car and shuffles into the house—trying his best to keep quiet and not disturb his parents on the way in. When he pries the front door open, the hallway and rooms surrounding are all dark and empty.

So far, so good. Now he just has to keep it that way.

He’s inside; he’s locked the door; he’s halfway down the hallway and two steps away from the stairs; he’s—

Being blinded by the living room light turning on.

He jumps an embarrassing amount into the wall behind him, making a thud so loud it erases any prior attempts at being silent. And there, on the couch in front of him, with her hands lying on her crossed knees, is…

Ari gulps. “Hi… mom…”

His mom smiles sweetly, eyes puffing up like they always do. In the day, her smile is adorably comforting. In the dead of night, however, it makes Ari want to run to the kitchen to find a weapon to defend himself with. “What time do you think it is?” she replies, voice all deceivingly lovely. 

A shaky chuckle falls out of Ari. He’s seen his mom mad before, sure, but it’s never been directed at him. Because, well… before Hyojin… the riskiest thing Ari ever did was Hardcore Minecraft.

Damn.

He hates when Lucio’s right.

“New hair?” he tries, a wobbly smile helping his situation by a grand amount of zero per cent. He nods to the white and blue braids on his mom’s head, replacing the old crimson ones she’d had on for a good majority of the past year. For good measure, and because he’s out of his mind, he throws up a finger-gun. “Winter palette looks good.”

She barks out a laugh, teeth on full display as she shakes her head. “Don’t try to use charm on me, mon rêve; I’m married to the person who taught you how to use it.”

For a moment, or a few, Ari thinks he’s royally fucked, and is about to experience what being grounded is like for the first time in his life. But then his mom’s deep brown eyes turn sweet—genuinely sweet—and she pats the couch cushion next to her. 

Ari feels his shoulders droop with relief, and he takes her offer, bounding over to melt into the fabric of their couch.

“How was the party?” Aissatou asks, tucking her legs in as she turns her body to face her son. “Did you have fun?”

Thankful for the comfort of his own couch, Ari sighs, letting the entire day wash off him. “Yeah,” he answers truthfully, not bothering to hide his grin. “It was fun, but I’m probably more like you than ma. Wasn’t really my scene.”

“You’d much rather a night of binge-watching anime than getting drunk, right?”

“Alright, maybe not that much like you.” His laughter quiets down when he feels his mom’s hand against his jaw, rubbing circles with her thumb on his cheek. The good ol’ momma-Astutia lovin. 

They spend a few minutes, maybe more, like this—and Ari is content to just fall asleep right here, on the couch, in his clothes from the party, with his mom’s comforting presence by his side.

But life has it rough for a man like him, and he jolts back awake when his mom chuckles under her breath and says, “I do hope Hyojin was the one to give you these.”

His spine shoots upright at the words, and his hands wrap around his neck.

Shit.

How did he forget about the—

“Ah, to be young and in love,” his mom sings, playing with a long white braid. “Enjoy it while it lasts, mon rêve. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Ari frowns, huffing at her teasing. “Last time I checked, Mom, you were the one who printed out their wedding vows and had them framed.”

She just laughs, smugly proud about her love for her wife. “Good thing it’s winter,” she diverts. “You can wear a scarf to school without seeming suspicious.”

“...I hadn’t even thought about that.”

With a snort, his mom flicks the tip of his nose. “Mon rêve, you have a lot to learn about being in a relationship. Especially with a boy like Hyojin.”

Though she means it as well as a mother possibly could, the comment makes something drop into Ari’s gut. It reminds him of what Lucio had said, earlier tonight, and all of a sudden, he wants to crawl off the couch and tuck himself into bed. 

He must have been quiet for too long, because the next thing he knows, his mom’s hand is on his cheek again. And she’s smiling at him with understanding in her eyes. Just the way she always manages to. “Go sleep.” She leans up, pressing a kiss to Ari’s forehead, and offering another smile. “Love you.”

“Love you more.” Reluctantly pulling himself off the couch, Ari offers a tired grin. “Night-night, Mom.”

And then he drags himself up the stairs.

「 february 25 | sunday | 6:00am 」

In the dead silence of the dawn, the notes of Ari's alarm starts to play.

It’s his alarm to wake up.

And he hasn’t slept a single fucking wink.

He’s used to waking up before his alarm—natural body clock and all that—but it’s the first time in a long time that he’s genuinely spent the entire night up, and conscious, and thinking.

Thinking about what, you ask?

Hyojin Carys is your answer.

What else?

Who else?

Who else could render Ari completely and utterly frozen with thoughts throughout the night? Who else could haunt every corner, every inch, of Ari’s mind, painting the walls and crevices in shadows as dark as his own deep brown eyes? Who else, other than a man both too pleasing and too indulgent for Ari’s own good, could have the school president lie awake in his bed for hours on end, staring at his ceiling, replaying memories and overanalysing every touch; every intake of breath; every stolen glance that he hadn’t noticed himself taking?

Ari had told Lucio something, last night.

‘I don’t really get it,’ he’d said. It was merely an unfinished sentence—and Ari doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to articulate just how many questions his mind had filed under it.

‘I don’t get why I came up with this plan.’

‘I don’t get why Hyojin accepted.’

‘I don’t get why I keep going along with Hyojin’s ploys.’

‘I don’t get why I keep acting like I hate them.’

‘I don’t get why I can be so good at pretending.’

‘I don’t get why I care so much about a fake relationship.’

Because, truly, the question that has plagued Ari’s mind, has left him an insomniac, had boiled down to something so crystal clear that a diamond would be envious.

Who cares this much about something fake?

For as many questions as he has for himself, a good majority of them have a clear answer—a singular answer.

One that had taken Ari far too long to reach; to piece together.

He’s staring at the sun rising at his window, waiting patiently as the threads of his mind weave together; taking all of those confusing emotions and thoughts and passing questions, and pulling them taught.

There had been inklings of the feeling. Little moments in his head that had alerted him. Ones he had chosen to ignore, both consciously and otherwise. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been there, in his mind, eating away at his soul. But he thinks—he knows —that it’s time, now, to listen. It’s time, now, to accept the truth:

He’s in love with Hyojin Carys.

And he really shouldn’t be.

He really… really shouldn’t be.

Hopping on the train to ‘Mental Crisis’, Ari feels himself sink into the mattress in a mess of flesh and feelings. He thinks he’s about to start crying when his bedroom door creaks open the tiniest bit, followed by a soft meow. And soon after, Hypatia is on his bed, snuggling up to his neck.

Things are better.

Slightly.

“Hi girlie,” he croons, feeling a subconscious smile against his cheeks. “Good morning.”

In response, Hypatia nudges his nose with hers, looking at him with kind eyes. There are many things Ari can be thankful for in the world… but he thinks ‘cats’ might be on the top of the list.

He rolls over, effectively trapping Hypatia under his arm as he cuddles her close to his chest and lets all the stress-air out of his body. “Mom and Ma up yet?” he mumbles.

Hypatia meows in response, wriggling around to lay a paw on his cheek. Through his open door, Ari can hear the sound of the coffee machine, and faint laughter. It answers his question enough for him to finally sit up and stop brooding.

It’s tempting to just stay in bed and melt into a puddle of angsty homosexuality, but when Hypatia hops off his bed and turns her head to wait, Ari can’t help but follow.

His limbs are sore and stiff—he doesn’t know what to blame: the party, or the recent revelation of his not-so-closed-off-heart.

Eighteen years, and he’s finally fallen in love.

Oh, god.

What’s he going to tell Hyojin?

Even worse…

What’s he going to tell his parents?

「 february 25 | sunday | 6:06am 」

“Fuckin’ hell,” is the greeting Ari’s ma gives him when he strolls into the kitchen-dining room. 

In plaid pyjama bottoms, a t-shirt that’s inside-out, and last night’s products in his hair and on his face, Ari looks like the pinnacle of a high school tragedy. He can only huff in response, an incoherent ‘good morning’ hidden somewhere in-between his grumbling.

“You look like shit,” she laughs, watching him plop down in the seat across from her, miserably taking a sip of water from a mug on the table. Hypatia, winding through his legs, looks more than happy at her owner’s state of depression.

“Don’t be mean,” his mom chides from beside him, joining them with two mugs of coffee in her grasp. She slides one over to her wife, then glances at her not-so-cheery son. “He looks…” she trails off, and Ari’s not oblivious enough to mistake the cringe on her face as anything else, “fine, pumpkin. He looks fine .”

“Aya, the boy looks like he’s halfway to death’s doorstep,” Minerva answers through barking laughter, entirely too pleased with making fun of her own son. “Did you party too hard last night?”

Ari just sits there, silent, staring at the unmoving water in his mug, for a good eternity.

(More like two minutes, but he feels shit, so he decides time is an illusion.)

Minerva makes a face, side-eyeing the love of her life, as if to ask, ‘what’s up with him?’ —to which Aissatou simply shrugs and pouts her lips: ‘No idea.’

With maybe an inch of liquid left of her coffee, Aissatou reckons enough time has passed for Ari to be in his angsty emo phase of the morning, and opens her mouth to ask what’s wrong.

Ari beats her to it with, “I need to tell you guys something.”

There’s a sense of sincerity to it; a sense of importance that makes the smug grin on Minerva’s face drop—replaced by furrowed brows and a concerned pout. She takes a quick glance at Aissatou, who’s already put her mug down and is staring at Ari with attentive eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, voice sweeter than Minerva could ever hope her own to be. “You know you can tell us anything, mon rêve. We’re here for you.”

“It’s…” He sighs halfway through the word, hands bunched into fists under the table. “It’s about… Hyojin…”

“A little young to be thinking about marriage,” Minerva laughs, though there’s a slight hesitation to it. She’s never been great in tense moments. “But you have my blessing.”

Ari would be thankful for it usually, would maybe even laugh at it, if it weren’t for the situation. But he can’t blame his ma for that—it’s a strange situation to be in. “No, it’s— it’s not… that,” he reassures. On his back, he feels his mom’s gentle hand rubbing a circle into his spine—it calms his nerves, an infinitesimal amount, but enough. “Carys is… He and I…”

He swallows dry. But he can’t bring himself to drink some water.

“You know how… Carys and I are… together… ?” He tries, not a fan of beating around the bush, but an unfortunate slave to it under the pressure.

Watching his mom tuck some braids behind her ear, leaning her arm on the table to look at him better, Ari has to remind himself to breathe. “Yes?” Aissatou prompts, her accent a slight comfort. “You two told us around Valentine’s, I think. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Well…”

He half-sighs half-groans, running a hand through sweaty hair and cursing his own brain for its hesitation.

Rip the bandaid off.

Take the dive.

Stop.

Lying.

“It’s fake.” He squeezes his eyes shut as the words leave his mouth, cringing at every atom in his godforsaken body. “Our relationship— Carys and I’s relationship— it’s… not real.” Behind closed eyes, he feels a migraine forming. “We’ve been pretending to date.”

The confession doesn’t trigger a huge gasp like he’d expected, or a flurry of questions, or anything of the sort. 

In reality, it’s dead silence.

And he thinks that might be worse.

He dares to prop open an eye, just a peep, and he’s met with something he isn’t mentally prepared to accept.

It’s his two moms—smiling at him.

They’re not joyful smiles; more understanding. More… motherly. More like they’ve braced themselves for the information, and are letting it sink fully in.

“Okay,” Aissatou says, after a moment. Her voice is light, almost breathy. Her thumb is still rubbing Ari’s back.

“‘Okay?’”

“Okay,” Minerva answers, this time. Ari finally pries his eyes open, looking across the table at his ma. “Ari, you’re our son. We know you. So fess up,” she accuses, lifting her mug to her lip. “Tell us what’s really bothering you.”

He blinks. “Is… Was the information I just gave you not—”

“I’m sure you had your reasons for it, mon rêve. You’re responsible, and intelligent, and it’s your own life—and we trust you.”

This is definitely not the reaction he was expecting, and he is definitely not mentally prepared for it.

“It’s a bit of a shock, sure.” Minerva slides her mug to the side, supposedly finished with it, and braces her forearms on the table. Ari starts to feel like, maybe, his moms are ganging up on him.

Just a little.

“I liked you and Hyojin as a couple—and, yeah, I’m a little pissed you lied,” she continues, “but I understand you were making your own moves. And I also understand that this —you telling us the truth behind you and Hyojin—is not what’s on your mind right now. Because, guess what, it’s dead fucking obvious that something’s still on your chest.”

Hypatia meows in the absence of Ari’s answer, silencing the whole house.

“So tell us.”

He doesn’t know what’s worse. The fact that his moms caught on so quickly, or the fact that he tried to steer clear of it in the first place. He’s eighteen; he should know better by now. The Astutia household isn’t one to shy away.

The Astutia household isn’t one to shy away.

It’d be nice if he could live up to that name and reputation.

But there’s always a first step in a long journey, and Ari decides it’s high time to take it. Hands still beneath the table, he grips the fabric of his pants until it bunches up around his thighs, takes a breath, and lets it out. 

“We’re fake,” he says.

A beat.

“But I want us to be real.”

And now that he’s said it out loud…

Now he knows.

Yeah, he thinks.

That’s what I want.

All those questions; all those moments that had him confused; all the times he wanted an answer—this was it.

Hyojin Carys, my fake boyfriend.

He wants to change the title.

Hyojin Carys, he hears in his head. My boyfriend.

That’s a better sentence.

“So you want to date him for real,” Minerva fact-checks, leaning back in her seat with a shrug. “What’s so wrong with that?”

It’s a hard question. Ari has to force himself not to think too much about it, and just let his words flow out of him. “It’s so— It’s too messy. It’s such a mess. This whole plan thing, and then these feelings, it’s— it’s all become this huge web, and I don’t know how to get myself out of it. And Carys…”

He groans, here, into palms cupped over his face. 

The whole issue of Hyojin himself, as a factor.

“I don’t think he’s interested in me like that,” Ari admits. “I… I don’t know him like that. He agreed to this fake relationship, and I feel like he’s enjoying it, but for a very different reason than I am.”

It’s not like it’s a secret. Hyojin doesn’t try to hide it—Ari’s caught on. He’s a playful person, that much Ari knows. He likes doing impulsive things, spur of the moment, consequences to be dealt with at a later time. He doesn’t think much about his actions, much less the intentions.

Ari knows Hyojin is having fun with him. In many ways.

But is Hyojin wanting more than ‘fun’?

Is Hyojin wanting what Ari wants?

There’s a better chance that the answer is something Ari doesn’t want to hear.

“I don’t know how he would react if I told him how I felt,” he concludes. “I don’t want to risk it. Because— well, because, what if I tell him, and he’s put off? This wasn’t part of the deal; I wasn’t supposed to want more. But then things got…” 

Complicated?

Messy?

Real?

“He pushed more,” he mumbles, feeling his ears grow hot. “And I didn’t hate it.”

Next to him, Aissatou hums. She’s got a long manicured nail between her teeth, and furrowed brows—which is really only something Ari has seen once before. “You sound annoyed by that,” she comments. 

Ari leans his head back, huffing out air through a heavy sigh. He stares up at the ceiling for a second or two, before covering his eyes with an arm. “I think I’m… I don’t know. Ashamed? Irritated? I don’t… It’s just, like—”

With another heavy sigh, wishing a conversation about his feelings came as easily to him as a speech in front of the entire student body did, Ari mumbles out his thoughts.

“He kissed me,” he starts. “And after that, I just kept… thinking about it all. How much of… of all this is… sincere? If I were to tell him, what would I say? That I liked him kissing me so much that I think I’m in love with him? It seems…” He’s frowning, he notices. From beneath his arm. It starts to hurt. “I don’t know if it’s real. I’ve never experienced something like this before; how am I supposed to know if that’s what I really want? And— And if it isn’t, what happens when it’s too late to back out? What if I destroy something perfectly good, by being a complete idiot, and then I lose him? What happens then? What if… What am I supposed to—”

He always knows what do, when to do it, and how to do it efficiently. He’s who everyone looks to for advice—he’s used to having everything under control. He’s not used to not knowing. He’s not used to feeling confused; he’s not used to not having the answers’ he’s not used to being in the dark and having to scramble for clues to grasp onto’ he’s not—

“Ari.” Aissatou’s stern voice pulls him back, wide eyes blinking at her. He hadn’t even noticed his hands and made it to his hair, gripping the strands so tightly it would hurt if it weren’t for the adrenaline, until his mom holds her own hands against them, loosening his grip. “Take a deep, slow breath, mon rêve.”

He obeys.

“You’re confusing yourself,” Minerva cuts in, as delicately as possible. “And me. Break it down to the core, Ari. What are you scared of, mainly, in all this?” He tries to reply, but can’t get any words out of him. “Are you worried that Hyojin won’t reciprocate?”

Ari shakes his head. Sure, Hyojin not feeling the same way is a worry, but it’s not the concern—not when Ari doesn’t even have a name for his own feelings. Wondering what Hyojin feels is a whole other adventure that he can’t afford to even look at right now.

“Then,” Aissatou tries, “is it that you don’t want to continue this… fake relationship?”

Again, Ari shakes his head. A little more vehemently this time. No matter how messed up it is, he likes what he and Hyojin have—deceit and all. He likes the fake relationship, because it gives them a relationship. Without it, Ari and Hyojin… aren’t Ari and Hyojin.

The thought of having no relationship at all pains Ari more than the thought of their existing pretend-relationship.

If Hyojin isn’t going to pull the plug, Ari most definitely won’t be.

After a moment or two of contemplation, Minerva leans her chin on her hand, watching her son under careful grey eyes. “...Is it that you’re not sure of your feelings?”

On autopilot, Ari goes to shake his head again—but when he lets it sink in, he thinks it’s more that than anything else.

So, he nods.

“It’s that, I suppose,” he agrees, a little unsure of himself. 

He thinks he likes Hyojin romantically. Is in love with him, in fact. But without something to compare these emotions to, he’s left in the dark as to how genuine those feelings are. In his head, he makes a list of things he knows.

One, he wants to kiss Hyojin again.

He doesn’t get to number two.

“I think I’m confused,” he admits, cogs turning. “I’ve never been kissed before, so maybe I don’t actually like him, and I’m just confusing romantic feelings because of the physical aspect, and my brain is—”

“Feelings coming from a physical origin,” Minerva interrupts, “doesn’t make them any less valid.”

Ari blinks.

Doesn’t it?

“Genuine love can start from a physical relationship,” she elaborates. Ari guesses this is one of the topics his ma can handle with the serious bone in her body. “And, in my opinion, you’re not looking for the physical part—you’re looking for the person involved.”

It’s a concept that’s hard for Ari to grasp beyond theoretical. A lot of this is. He wishes all his intelligence could account for the real world.

“You’re thinking too hard about it,” his ma lectures. “You said it yourself, before, right?”

“Said what?”

“‘I want us to be real,’” she quotes. “You want that? You want Hyojin to be your real boyfriend?”

“Yeah— Yes, I…” Ari bites the inside of his cheek. “Yes. I want that.”

Minerva holds her hands out in a gesture of finality and defeat all in one. “Then that’s all you really need to know right now.”

While he doesn’t necessarily understand, he can at least see what his ma is getting at. He doesn’t think it’s all that simple—nothing, ever, in his life is—but he’s willing to follow her ideologies for this one. 

So he takes a deep inhale, shakes out his entire body, and lets it all out: the air, the tension, the existentialism. Then he nods, pulls his hands through his hair to refresh himself, and starts to feel better.

He reckons his ma is right.

He’s thinking about it too hard.

“That was a lot of problems in one sitting,” Minerva comments, groaning as she stands up and stretches. “Got any more?”

Ari chuckles. “Probably. Can’t think of the words for them right now.”

“That’s alright. We can circle back another time, yeah? Deal with things as they come.” As she talks, his ma collects the mugs on the table and meanders over to the sink. “But make sure to tell us when they happen—so it doesn’t come to shit like today. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Okay. Sure. Yeah.”

“Cool,” Minerva says, when she’s back at the table, standing behind Aissatou’s seat. “Done and dusted. Let’s go on a Macca’s run—you need it.”

Though she has Minerva’s arms around her neck, and is kissing the back of one hand, Aissatou rolls her eyes. “Really, Minnie?”

“What?” Minerva asks, completely innocently, and totally not smirking down at her wife. 

“It’s, like, six.”

“They’re open all hours for a reason, Aya. Don’t deny me my pleasures.” Without waiting for an answer, Minerva leans down and presses a kiss to Aissatou’s forehead, before stalking off towards the front door. “C’mon, Ari!” she calls out on the way. “Go get changed—my shout, but you’re driving!”

Ari can’t help but laugh at the interaction, getting up and out of his seat without complaint. His body feels light, now, and he’s entirely too thankful. He quickly engulfs his mom in a hug, mumbling against her braids, “Thanks, mom. Love you.”

“Love you too, mon rêve.” He waits for her to give him a kiss on his cheek, then he bolts upstairs to get changed into not-depression clothes.

| A.A. |

In an interesting development to my life, journal… it seems I’ve developed romantic feelings.

For Hyojin Carys.

I think it’s still hard for me to grasp the concept of it all. It’s new ground to me, and not in a good way. Not ‘new’ in the Hyojin way. ‘New’ in the unfamiliar, terrifying, disorientating way. Fortunately, I have mom and ma to talk to about it. If it comes to that again.

I’m reading through all my previous entries, now, and counting how often I mention Hyojin. The number is almost embarrassing to admit (the tally is on the third-last page). It’s a wonder I didn’t realise I was in love with him before.

I wish there was a moment I could pinpoint. Maybe I could’ve analysed it. Why I fell in love—what made me fall in love. But there’s not. Not one that I can think of, anway. Mom says that it’s normal; that feelings build up over time inside you and are painting your insides before you even realise they’d picked up a brush. (She loves her metaphors.)

It might’ve been easier if there was something to put under a microscope; it would help me make sense of things, I think. It would make it all easier to rationalise. I’m aware that this is probably not what normally happens to people when they think they’ve fallen in love, but what really defines normal?

I would go on a ramble about that, but I think I’ve already done so in many… many pages of this journal. Sorry to any historians who pick this up in however many years—enjoy the ramblings of a boy whose brain works too fast for his consciousness. If you’ve made it this far into my journal, I’ll assume you’re pretty inquisitive about my life.

So am I.

Maybe you could turn it into a story. A movie, if those will still exist in the future the same way they do now. If you do—I ask you give Hyojin and I a happy ending. I have no idea what ending I’ll be getting, so I’d like to script one instead.

I tell Hyojin about my feelings. He smiles at me, and maybe even laughs a little in that throaty way he does. And then, maybe, he kisses me again. And tells me he feels the same. And lets me run my fingers through his hair, and lets me stare into his eyes, and lets me hold his body against mine.

Yeah.

That would be nice.

「 february 26 | monday | 8:24am 」

On Monday morning, when he sees Hyojin Carys standing at his locker, in all his untied-tie oversized-sweater messy-hair black-headphones tired-eyes glory, Ari feels his breath catch in his throat.

It wasn’t long ago that he was standing in this exact position, staring at Hyojin, thinking about just how precious it was to see him smile.

Was he in love back then, too?

Maybe.

(Probably.)

But he’s had enough angsting to last him through the next three months, he decides, and pushes the thoughts away as quickly as they’d come; forcing himself to take a couple steps forward and approach the source of all his misery.

He’s not sure what to open with, so for a moment or two, he just stands there, behind Hyojin—fumbling with his own thoughts.

For someone who’s been thrown into so many impromptu pep talks, he really isn’t the best with words.

Turns out, with Hyojin Carys, he doesn’t have to be.

“I can feel you behind me, you know,” Hyojin grumbles under his breath, head still tucked into his locker and on his phone. “What are you waiting for—my command to move?”

Ari only has time to hold onto a breath, before Hyojin whips his body around and stares up at the president, eyes glinting behind strands of hair. He sees Ari freeze up; sees those doe eyes turn wide and white. 

Like a deer caught in the headlights.

He knows something is up—Ari’s eyes are absolutely terrible at keeping secrets—but he doesn’t care enough to pry. So when he glances down at the turtleneck layered underneath Ari’s usual uniform, a giant sign saying “MOCK ME”, he steers the conversation with a howling laugh.

Before his open mouth can form a syllable, Ari’s finger is pressed up against his lips, face much too close for eight in the morning. “Don’t,” he warns, with a voice as strong as a soggy piece of spaghetti.

Hyojin just chuckles, smiling against the president’s finger. He has to tilt his head up to look Ari in the eye, and raise a curious brow. (He’s never really been bothered about his height—plus, Ari’s just a fucking tree, so.) “Don’t what?” he teases. 

“Comment on it,” Ari replies, with a stern expression. It’s always so fun to see his face turn all tense—it’s a refreshing curveball to his otherwise ‘perfect’ and ‘normal’ presidential looks. “Especially not when it’s your fault.”

Well aware of what’s doing, Hyojin tilts his head, exposing half of his face to the man looming above him—staring him right in the eyes with a look that could be seen as innocent, if Ari were more a fool. “When what is my fault, prez? I’ve no idea what you’re on about.”

Ari squints his eyes and does his little pout. If Hyojin was half the man he is, he’d crumble. “Funny,” Ari grumbles. 

“Very. But you know what’s funnier?”

Rolling his eyes, and finally releasing Hyojin’s lips from his finger, Ari leans his hand against the lockers by Hyojin’s head, and sighs. “What, Carys?”

Hyojin hums. “The fact that you’ve had me pushed up against my locker for the past few minutes—which, dunno if you know, is a pretty suggestive position—and haven’t noticed the freshmen behind you taking photos.”

“The wha—” He whips his head around, and sure as day, is met with a group of four grinning freshmen with their phones pointing right at him.

“You’re usually so observant, prez,” comes the voice he’s learned to get worked up at.

(Perhaps that’s in the name of love, too. Or hatred. With Hyojin Carys, it might be a hideous mix of both.)

Choosing to ignore the students for his own sanity, Ari turns his gaze back to the object of his headaches. And much to no one’s surprise, Hyojin has that stupidly attractive smug smile on his face. “What’s wrong? Distracted? ”

Ari thinks he might be destroying his lungs with the amount of sighing he does in Hyojin’s presence. “Just… reeling from last night,” he half-lies. He takes his hand away from the lockers and moves to take a step back.

But then he feels a restraint on his tie, looks down, sees the fabric gripped between jewelled fingers, and strings a line of colourful curses in his head. “Let’s give ‘em something else to talk about,” Hyojin laughs.

And then he’s pulling the president down, and their lips are melded together again, and for a second or two, Ari thinks he can see Buddha calling for him from the great beyond.

Hyojin’s lips are so warm , and perfect , and he knows just how to manoeuvre their bodies, and he’s got a hand on Ari’s jaw , and it feels so inexplicably good , and…

And…

And they’re at school.

They Are.

At.

School .

As much as it pains him to—and, oh, how it does—Ari pulls back, nearly stumbling over his own feet in the process.

Having barely gathered himself, he shifts onto his heels, pressing the back of his hand against his face. It does nothing to hide the flush. Hyojin simply stands at his locker, completely amused, and completely unaffected.

Ari really doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to him.

“Did you get a good shot of that?” Hyojin calls out, prompting Ari to look over his shoulder at their audience. But by the time Ari gets to see them, they’re already scurrying away, heads ducked. Hyojin scoffs at the sight of it.

Then he grabs a random notebook, closes his locker, and stalks off to his first lesson. Ari stands there for a second, seeing the buffering symbol in his head, before he snaps back to reality and strides over to Hyojin’s side.

Sneaking a glance down at him as they walk through the hallway, Ari notices Hyojin’s tie again—slung around the back of his neck like an accessory rather than a uniform. “You’re still not tying it,” he mumbles. It’s a slight complaint.

Hyojin does that half-hum half-chuckle thing that he does. Ari wonders why it feels so nice to hear. “You tie it for me, then.”

“I’m not your moth—”

“Ah, but you are my boyfriend,” Hyojin rebukes, smirking up at the president. “Aren’t you?”

Ari bites the inside of his cheek.

No, he thinks. I’m not.

(Not yet, at least.)

“What’s that got to do with dressing you?” he says instead, making a show of huffing.

Hyojin makes a whining noise, though it’s painfully obvious it’s in a mocking tone. “C’mon, prez—you did it for me the first time, didn’t you?”

“That was a one-time thing.”

“Uh-huh. And so were the other fifteen times you did it, I’m guessing?”

He narrows his eyes at that answer, grumbling complaints under his breath. Hyojin just laughs, low and all hidden in his throat.

God.

Hyojin Carys is so infuriating.

And Ari is so, so in love with him.

How embarrassing is that?

He’s listing all of the adjectives for ‘very’ in his head when his thoughts are interrupted by a voice they’re approaching.

“—ooking like a manwhore, like, fuck, ” the voice chortles.

It’s just around the corner; in a hallway leading to Hyojin’s class. Ari’s not a great fan of the insulting tone of the language—but in a high school, what can you do?

He’s content to ignore it and continue on, but right before they turn the corner, the voice continues—“Does he think that just ‘cuz he’s dating the president, he can act like he owns the place? Seriously. I’ve no idea why Ari’s dating that .”—and Ari is not going to stand by the side for that type of shit.

How dare someone say that? Not just about Hyojin—about anyone? How can someone be so blatantly rude?

Feeling a vein or two pop in his forehead, Ari steps forward to round the corner and raise his voice at a deserving bastard—

But he’s stopped.

By Hyojin’s arm—held out, in front of him, telling him not to show his face around the bend. Ari blinks down at his companion, pure confusion and hesitation muddled in his brain.

“Just leave it,” Hyojin says. He doesn’t sound offended, or hurt, or anything of the sort—he sounds bored, if anything. Like he’s used to this type of attention on him.

Some part of Ari’s heart breaks at the sight of it.

“The shit you’re hearing is from a walking trashcan named Ben,” Hyojin states, matter-of-factly. His lip curls up slightly in a sneer, but his body remains as calm and nonchalant as ever. “He’s always like this; it’s fucking annoying, but whatever. Don’t make it a thing.”

He knew that Hyojin’s reputation wasn’t a great one. He was perfectly aware of it. But he didn’t know just how disgusting it could have been in the hidden hallways—the conversations that could have occurred outside of the president’s earshot.

“He shouldn’t be talking about you like that,” Ari argues, keeping his voice low..

Hyojin shrugs. It sort of pisses Ari off, how casual he is about it all. “It’s better not to make a big deal out of it; dickwads like him are just looking for attention. Don’t give it to them.”

Through the wall, said ‘dickwad’ continues on his rambles—calling Hyojin names that could land him in a month’s worth of detention if he were caught by the wrong teacher.

Or Ari.

And Ari really wants this kid off campus.

But Hyojin is telling him to leave it, and despite all of his instincts telling him otherwise, he follows command. Hyojin knows better than him in this type of thing. If anything, he’d just mess things up.

Ben’s laughter fills the hallway in echoes, and Ari has never punched anyone before, but he really wants to punch Ben right now.

“Yeah, actually, you know what?” he continues, though the complete lack of response has Ari believing he’s talking off the ear of someone who wants to be quite literally anywhere else, “Say what you will, but the idiocy really goes to Ari here, doesn’t it?”

It’s followed by his own laughter. And Ari’s confusion. Sure, he’s had people lean on the disagreeing side of ‘neutral’ on him, but he’s never heard someone vehemently insult him before. It’s strange.

“I mean, going after Hyojin Carys? What is he, desperate? Or does he just have shit taste?” Ari really, really wants to punch this boy. “I thought he was supposed to be some sorta Casanova, but this just proves he’s easy— ”

Before Ari can even think about turning the corner and telling Ben off, there’s a blur from beside him. When he does round the corner, he finds Hyojin gone from his side—and on Ben instead.

Throwing him to the ground.

For everything that he’s worth, Ari can’t do anything but stand there and stare at the scene unfolding in front of him. Two students, juniors, by the look of it, are pressed up against the wall, looking as uncomfortable as ever—Ari guesses they were the victims of Ben’s unrelenting personality—and in the centre of the hallway…

Ben’s on his ass, with Hyojin’s legs bracketing his; a ring-covered fist making a comfy little home right in the crook of Ben’s nose.

Ari probably should stop it, being the school president and all, but the little voice in his head reminds him of the comments Ben had made about Hyojin… and part of him starts to think that Ben definitely deserves this.

Maybe he even deserves something worse than what Hyojin is giving him.

And so, he watches in quiet horror, with his fists clenched beside him, as Ben thrashes around on the floor beneath Hyojin’s hold. One particularly violent thrash has his fist landing on Hyojin’s face, sending it to the side—and Ari feels a jolt in his spine to start moving.

But before he can do that, Hyojin is already bouncing back. He’s laughing, completely unfiltered, and with more raw emotion than Ari has ever heard him laugh before. Ari watches that head of shaggy hair cock to the side, revealing a wide grin and shimmering eyes.  “Is that it?” he growls, a taunt right into Ben’s face. 

And Ari really shouldn’t find that attractive.

He really shouldn’t, but…

But he does.

He very much does.

Apparently, he was much too busy thinking about Hyojin’s attractiveness, because he doesn’t even notice the crowd that has gathered to watch the fight until there’s a hand on his shoulder, stirring him into action.

He turns to his left to see a tall, blonde student—Nick, he thinks the name is?—watching on with a gaping mouth and concerned eyes. “Hey, uh, Ari,” he stutters, eyes caught between politely looking at Ari and not-so-politely watching the chaos before them, “shouldn’t you, like… stop them?”

Only after the sentence has left his mouth does Nick take a good look at the president beside him—the president, who has already taken off his blazer, and is rolling up his sleeves. “ Stop him?” Ari Astutia, Student Body President, All-Around Good Guy, scoffs.

And then he jumps into the fight.

Striding over to the absolute mess on the floor, he guides Hyojin to his side—before hauling Ben up off the ground with as much care as a cat has for a lazer.

Red-faced and bruised, Ben tries to shake off the embarrassment of the situation, glaring at Hyojin over Ari’s shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he huffs out, giving Ari a nod. 

Ari can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“Control your little boy-toy next time though, eh?” Ben spits, glower directed completely at Hyojin.

Who turns out to be the least of his problems.

Because one minute, he’s on his feet, and the next—his jaw is getting punched by the school president.

The contact makes Ari’s knuckles sing with a jolt of pain, reverberating through his wrist. OW OW OW OW OW is a chant in his head, though he doesn’t show a single bit of it on the outside.

He doesn’t punch people.

He didn’t think it would hurt this much.

But for something that makes him feel like a deviant, it also… it feels therapeutic, almost. To see Ben’s stupid face fall to the floor from the impact. Maybe—just maybe—a little part of him starts to get why Hyojin was laughing.

Off to the side of the main fight, but not quite out of the formed circle of students, Hyojin tries to wipe the goofy smile off his face.

It feels like something out of a fairytale—he can’t help but huff out a laugh, made of both disbelief and pure unbridled joy, still delirious off of the high of giving Ben the beginning of a black eye.

He’s just watched president Ari Astutia punch a guy.

Now that, he thinks, is interesting.

He almost forgets what he’s there for, but when he hears Ben’s irritating fuck of a voice speak up, calling Ari a two-faced dick, he’s set off once again. Two steps toward the pair later, and Hyojin is ripping Ben out of Ari’s grasp.

With his hair moving with the momentum of the fight, Ari gets a perfect view of that bright, fang-filled grin—before it dips down. And Ari is left reeling, watching as Hyojin holds Ben’s fighting body against the ground, pulls his loose tie off of his neck, and makes quick work of tying Ben’s hands behind his back like a hog.

Quick and easy.

It’s humiliating.

It’s exactly what Hyojin wants the motherfucker to feel.

“Y’know what, Benny boy? ” he says, half-laugh half-snarl as he stands to his full height, dragging the kid by his collar on the way up, “I am so fucking happy to see your bitchy little face in my life again—gives me an excuse to do all the shit I couldn’t last time!”

Behind those beady eyes, Hyojin sees a look of panic settle, and he couldn’t be happier.

“I’m going to tear all of your limbs out of your body,” he spits, low and gravelly and meant purely for Ben’s trembling ears. “One. By. Pathetic. One.”

And he would’ve.

He really would’ve.

If it weren’t for the yelling currently barreling their way. Stern yelling.

Ari pries his eyes away from Hyojin, catching sight of a teacher stomping their way down the hallway. With a closer look, he recognises it as the Chemistry teacher, Mr Farouk.

Hyojin groans at the sight of it, rolling his eyes and dropping Ben. He hits the floor with a satisfying thud. Hyojin can’t even be happy about the sound, because he’s making eye contact with Farouk, and knows his chances of skinning Ben alive are now off the table.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Ari—whose perfect hair is a little tousled, and eyes a little crazed. He can almost see the ‘oh fuck’ happening in Ari’s head.

He thinks it was worth it.

「 february 26 | monday | 9:01am 」

Halfway through first period, which should have been AP Literature for him, Ari finds himself sitting on a bench against a wall in the school’s front office. Hyojin is next to him, arms crossed over his chest, and half-asleep in pure boredom.

They’re waiting for the principal to finish his meeting—they’re waiting to be called into his office and undoubtedly lectured on their little mishap with Ben.

Which is… definitely something Ari isn’t used to.

Usually, when he’s called in to talk with the principal, it’s all formal stuff. Maybe a compliment, even once in a while. Maybe about future plans with the council. He’s never had to sit, and wait, to be disciplined on juvenile actions.

Maybe Hyojin really is a bad influence on him.

Not that he cares much about it.

Speaking of…

While his hand fiddles with his left wrist, still sore, Ari glances over at the boy next to him. Hyojin isn’t nervous in the slightest; he just looks tired. Irritated, even.

After taking a glance at the office staff, who are all too occupied with their jobs to pay attention to the two seniors in their hold, Ari leans against the wall behind him and decides to cut the silence

 “You said ‘again,’” he starts. He can’t see Hyojin’s eyes from this angle, but he thinks they open to pay attention. “Before, to Ben. You said something about him being in your life again.”

He hears a grumble, before Hyojin reaches up to his face to rub a hand across his face. Pushing his hair back and following Ari in relaxing against the wall, Hyojin sighs. “What about it?”

“You’ve… fought with him before?”

Hyojin just shrugs. “Wouldn’t call it a fight. It was right after I was allowed back on-campus—found him being an asshole to some younger kid; getting all up in their face and shit. Way too close to be normal. So I just told him to fuck off.”

“Did you tell him that with your mouth, or with your fist?” Ari asks, a small giggle under his breath. Usually, he’d reprimand the idea of fighting, but after getting a taste of it on his own… he’s not entirely against the idea of Ben getting his nose broken.

He’s glad he chose the route of lightheartedness, especially when Hyojin laughs at the comment. It’s softer than the crazed laughter he had during the fight. Ari thinks he likes them equally. “Both,” Hyojin answers. “Probably didn’t help the whole reputation thing.”

Ari glances down at those fists, laying on Hyojin’s lap; inspects the forming bruises on his knuckles. He hadn’t been there long enough for any blood to be spread, but Ari is glad there’s at least some evidence of pain on Ben. 

It’s strange, he thinks. How bruises seem to suit Hyojin. They don’t look out of place; rather… fitting. Maybe some people were born to take and give, like Hyojin was.

He’s held those hands, he remembers. He’s felt those slender fingers between his own; felt those calluses against his palm. He likes Hyojin’s hands. 

The voice in his head gives him flashes of a tie between those fingers; and with a spark, Ari sits up and furrows his brow. “...You tied Ben’s hands up, during that whole mess.”

Hyojin looks at him.

“It was impressive.” He clears his throat. “The speed of it, I mean. Where’d you learn how to do that?”

Hyojin’s answer is that annoyingly attractive hum of his; with a smirk as the cherry on top. “I’ve got interesting company,” he says.

Some part of Ari’s chest feels a twinge—minuscule, but enough for Ari to notice it. Company, he says. Ari didn’t know there was such a thing.

There’s so much about Hyojin that he doesn’t know.

So much. 

“Are you saying I’m not your only friend?” he chides instead, deciding it’d be better off not to dwell.

After a moment, Hyojin turns his head to get a better look at the president. He’s got a smile on. The one that he has in all those photos of him across the school walls and newspapers. The fake one.

And with a spark, Hyojin realises it. Oh, he thinks. He’s jealous.

How cute.

He opens his mouth to stab a relentless comment into the president, wanting to leave him with his ears bright red, but he’s interrupted before he can get his voice out.

“Ari?” One of the office ladies calls out from her desk. “Mr Adithan would like to see you now.”

Ari’s chest caves in with a shaky exhale, steeling his nerves as he stands up. He knows what’s coming for him; knows it won’t be bad. But it still affects him. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Hyojin half-smiling up at him.

“About time you broke some rules,” he says.

Ari can’t argue. “I’ll talk to you after?”

Hyojin’s answer is something that could be mistaken as a nod, or a shrug, or maybe just acknowledgement. That’s enough confirmation for Ari.

When he walks into his office, Principal Adithan is already sitting behind his desk, his chin resting on his conjoined hands. 

“Good morning, Ari,” he greets, still as cheerful as ever. Ari would think it too good to be true—if he didn’t know Mr Adithan’s personality to be one of the sweetest. 

“Morning, Sir.” He takes a seat in one of the two armchairs in front of Mr Adithan’s desk; completely at home in the office. “Sorry about… well. Everything.”

Mr Adithan hums, adjusting the glasses resting on his nose. “I wish I could say it’s okay, but I’d be lying,” he says, with his usual gummy smile.

It’s lighthearted. Ari can’t help but feel this conversation is going entirely too easily for him.

“I know you’re not usually one to resort to violence, Ari.” He looks Mr Adithan right in his eyes as he speaks, not one to shy away from taking responsibility. He knows it’s something he’s admired for. “So I’d like to know your side of the story. What happened?”

Ari chooses his words carefully; he builds them up on his tongue, pulls them out with confidence in himself. It’s gotten him through his presidency thus far, and he’s sure it will work here, too. “Ben was making some… snide comments. About Carys, and myself. They were completely inappropriate—and I understand that my reaction was, too, but… well, I suppose I got caught in the heat of the moment.”

“But you weren’t the first to throw a punch,” Mr Adithan states, like he’s confirming.

“No, Sir. That was, um… That was Carys.” He feels himself frown, though not at the current situation. “I think he was prompted into it because of a certain comment Ben made about… me.”

He doesn’t want to put belief into a false hope, but his heart wants to. It wants to believe that Hyojin had cracked in his defence. Maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe it was. He doesn’t know—but he likes the idea of the latter.

“If I could ask for something, Sir?” He speaks, making sure his voice is strong. The principal tilts his head, prompting continuation. Despite himself, Ari glances out of the one-way windows beside them, looking out into the rest of the office.

Hyojin is still sitting; waiting. He’s got his arms crossed, and his back against the wall. He looks tired. 

Ari bites the inside of his cheek. “Please don’t punish him too harshly.”

The principal sighs—and by the look on his face, Ari can tell his plea will only go so far. “I understand wanting to protect the people you love, Ari, I really do. But I have to be unbiased towards him; his consequences will come from his reports. And you know what those are like.”

He bites his lip, peeling a bit of the skin off with his teeth. It’s a bad habit of his that should really stop. “Yeah,” he mumbles under his breath. “I… I get that.” Even so, he doesn’t deem it fair.

It takes a few seconds for Mr Adithan’s words to settle into his thick skull, and when he registers the comment, Ari feels his cheeks heat up.

“Um—” The people you love. “Love— I don’t— Um.” His eyes are blinking nonstop, nervously averting his gaze for the first time in the entire exchange. “How did… Why…”

Mr Adithan just chortles, his hearty laugh filling the room. “What, did you think it was a secret?” 

“Well— Not really, that’s— But— I didn’t expect the staff to also…”

“We’re privy to many things happening in these walls, Ari.” Mr Adithan crosses his arms over his chest, though it comes off like a friendly neighbourhood dad more than anything else. “You and Hyojin’s relationship isn’t an exception.”

Ari clears his throat.

This isn’t exactly what he’d mentally prepared himself for.

When he finally builds up enough courage to glance back at his principal, he finds him gazing out of the window—at Hyojin. “I’m not going to lecture his ear off or anything like that,” he says. “But I have responsibilities to fulfil and people to please; so, I can’t just let him off the hook.” He turns his attention back to Ari, a soft smile on his kind features. “You understand that, right?”

It’s not fair.

It’s really not fair.

Hyojin has gone through so much punishment, school-issued or not; so much bullshit—misunderstandings wrapped under malicious intent. And he deserves to be known as something more than a villain. 

“He’s not a bad person,” Ari says. “He’s really not—he’s just… He’s been put into situations that make him seem like the bad guy. But he has a story to tell, too. And no one’s given him the chance to tell it.”

Mr Adithan pays attention, to that. He always pays attention when Ari has something to say. “This isn’t just about this morning’s incident, is it?” he asks, tone indicating it’s more of a confirmation than a query.

“No,” Ari admits. “It’s…”

He’s ready to go off, he thinks. Completely ready to defend Hyojin’s honour and tell Mr Adithan the real story behind his first fight at the school. The one that’s tainted all of his records, like a bad stain that won’t get out, no matter how much you scrub at it and try to clean it out with something pure.

But he thinks about Hyojin’s face, when he’d told Ari the truth. He thinks about the tone of voice. He thinks about everything Hyojin Carys stands for.

He sighs. “It’s not my story to tell.”

The principal’s brow quirks at that, and he hums. There’s a bit of silence following, where he simply taps his fingers against his jaw in thought.

Eventually, he nods.

“Thanks for bringing it to my attention, Ari. I’ll look into it.”

Ari bows his head, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Thank you, Sir. Really.”

Mr Adithan chuckles. “You can show me your gratitude by never getting involved in a fight again,” he comments.

With a sheepish rub of his neck, Ari half-smiles. “Right. Sorry.”

“If you were any other student, this would have been a very different conversation. But since it’s you, I’m not concerned with punishment—I’m concerned about your image.” He leans back in his chair, clasping his hands on his lap. “As their president, you set the example for the students. You’re a role model to many of them—they look towards you for guidance; for an exemplar.”

“That’s a lot of pressure on an eighteen-year-old,” Ari chides.

Mr Adithan grins. “That’s exactly why you signed up for it, no?”

And, well… he can’t deny it.

“Since this was a very rare situation for you, I can simply let you go after this talk,” the principal concludes. “But if you’re caught in something like this again, there’ll be heavier consequences to look at.”

“I understand, Sir.” 

“You’re a good man, Ari.” Mr Adithan smiles, entirely genuine. “I appreciate having someone like you as the student president.”

He straightens his spine; sits with some more conviction. “Thank you.”

With a final nod, Mr Adithan claps his hands. “Alright. Get to class. Oh, and—send in Hyojin, will you?”

Coming out of the office feeling a lot lighter than he had when he walked in, Ari straights the lapels of his blazer as he strides over to Hyojin—who’s currently watching him do so, with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Went well,” Ari says when he gets to him. “He, uh. He wants you in there.”

He watches Hyojin take a breath, before sighing and getting up, hands buried into his pockets. Ari doesn’t like that there’s no commentary from him. No snide remark. He looks… melancholic, almost. Looks… not like himself.

It hurts Ari’s heart. “I’ll, uh— I’ll wait for you,” he offers.

“Nah,” Hyojin answers, cracking his neck to the side. “You should go, before you miss even more of class.”

“But—”

“Prez.”

The nickname sounds almost pained to his ears. Though he’d never admit it, he loves when Hyojin calls him that. It’s teasing, and light, and all so painfully him. But whatever this is, it’s… not the Hyojin that Ari is used to. 

“Go to class,” he says, not even with a demeaning tone under it. “You’re not my mother, remember?” He chuckles, softly, trying to joke—but there’s no flame in his eyes; no Hyojin Carys in his voice.

Ari hates it.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

Hyojin decides for him.

He turns his back and walks away, off to Mr Adithan, without so much as an offhanded tease.

Ari can’t help but stay there for a moment, lingering, staring at the back that he admires so much—the one that displays strength, and hardship, and a man carrying the weight of actions more than his own. It’s the same as it was, way back when.

But it shouldn’t be. The burden should be lifted—that was Ari’s job. And he failed at it.

He waits there. He waits to see if Hyojin will look back at him; give him some sort of indication that he’s alright.

He doesn’t.

「 february 26 | monday | 4:04pm 」

“What do you think about it, Ari?”

The president blinks. “Huh?”

It takes a second to come back to the land of living—and he barely knows what’s happening when he’s faced by an entire student council staring at him, waiting for an answer.

He’s sitting at the head of the meeting table, just registering that he’s in the student council room—and has been for the past… however many minutes. His mind had wondered at some point, and it’s taking a bit for the cogs to turn.

“Oh. Yes. Yeah, I agree,” he lies, trying to blink away his delusions. “Good idea.”

Amir, sitting at the other end of the table as the Vice, drops the papers in their hand and leans back. “Alright, what’s up with you?”

Ari furrows his brow. “Nothing’s— What are you—”

“You’ve kinda been zoned out for the entire meeting, dude,” Caden laughs—completely harmlessly. “You just agreed to Amir’s idea of tearing down the statue out front.”

“I—” Ari sputters, frowning. “I agreed to what? ”

“It was a test,” Amir states, pointing their finger up. “And you did not pass!”

Okay, so, maybe Ari was more out of it than he’d realised. He blames it on the morning. He’s been all sorts of messed up today.

“First, you show up to one of Maki’s parties,” Amir points out. “Not only that—you show up with hickeys on you. And don’t think that turtleneck is hiding anything; everyone and their mother knows what you looked like that night, Ari.” 

“I—”

“And then, ” Amir continues, “you get into a fight? You threw a punch —it’s all over the school!”

Ari can’t even muster up an argument. 

“Seriously, Ari.” Amir is staring him down, brown eyes shoving daggers into his conscience. “What is up with you lately?”

His throat feels dry; closed-up, like he doesn’t even have it in him to swallow.

There’s a small mercy in his life when Kalliopi lays a hand over his on the table, asking him in her gentle voice, “You know you can talk to us if there’s anything troubling you—we’re here for you.”

“I…” He hesitates on his answer, despite knowing Kalliopi means full well. There’s so much going on for him, and he could probably only talk about one or two of the recent events to this group—and if that weren’t difficult enough, he’d have to explain himself.

His brain might explode.

“RJ!” Everyone at the table jumps at Amir’s outburst, as they hold up an arm like a sergeant commanding silence. Ari’s almost afraid of the next words coming out of their mouth; unsure if he can handle any more judgement and drama in one day. But then Amir shouts out, “Make Ari some coffee, he needs it!”

And Ari doesn’t know what’s going on anymore.

From where he sits, Arjun rolls his eyes. ‘Make it yourself,’ he signs.

Amir groans, though it’s playful as everything else they do. “But you know how to make it all silky and nice,” they argue, dragging out the syllables. “Pleeease?”

They're shut up by Penny's hand lightly karate-chopping the top of their head. As she looms over Amir from behind, she lectures, “I’ll make the coffee. Stop whining.”

Ari watches Arjun hide a grin behind his hand, before he’s turning to the president with a shy smile. ‘Don’t worry,’ he signs, ‘Amir’s not actually angry, nor worried. None of us are.’

“Really?” he lets out, not entirely meaning for it to come out of his mouth. But he somehow doubts his actions have gone un-judged by his council.

‘Really.’

Amir’s giggling falls over the table, releasing at least a little bit of the tension between Ari’s shoulders. “Nah, I’m playing with you. I mean—yeah, you did all those things, which is… well, unexpected, to say the least, but—  I like it.” They grin. “I dunno what Hyojin is doing to you, but I’m not a hater. I actually kinda feel like a proud parent.”

He thinks he might still be daydreaming. “Amir, these are things you should definitely not be proud of,” he argues. “Much less encouraging.”

Amir just smiles at him, though their energy depletes to a more appropriate level. “Sorry about getting your heart rate up. Just think of it as payback; I had to run this entire meeting because you kept staring off into space.”

Taking a moment to calm the jolting heartbeat he can hear in his eardrums, Ari sighs and feels his body sag into the seat under him. “So… So you guys aren’t mad? At… everything?”

“Why would we be?” Penny cuts in, sliding a cup of coffee to a very thankful Ari. She stays where she is, beside Ari’s chair, and leans against the table. “We trust you, Ari. You’re not the kind of guy to go do stupid shit without reason.”

Somehow, Ari really doubts that reputation of his.

Kalliopi, bless her soul, pipes up with her cheerful voice—holding her phone out to show Ari her Twitter timeline. “A lot of people hate Ben,” she explains, “so they’re actually really happy you and Hyojin gave him a beating.”

Caden adds his own report: “A lot of people actually found it hot—you fighting.” There’s a beat of silence, with everyone’s gazes falling onto him for a moment too long to be natural. “What? I’m just saying!”

‘He’s not wrong,’ Arjun adds. ‘The response was a lot more positive than you think. I can’t say the same about Hyojin, though.’

That piques Ari’s interest. “What do you mean?”

With a slight hesitation in his movements, Arjun cringes a little before explaining. ‘There are mixed opinions about him, right now. Some people are starting to like him. They’re changing their views and seeing him as a good person now. It might be because you’re dating him.’

Well…

Yeah, Ari would hope so.

That was the whole point of his and Hyojin’s… ‘relationship.’

‘But some people still think he’s…’ Arjun’s hands stop there, and he looks away, unsure of how to continue.

“They think he’s a maniac,” Kalliopi—of all people—finish. She holds her phone out again as proof. “There’s a bunch of videos of him laughing and stuff while he was beating Ben up. So… some people are still kind of scared of him.”

“He’s not a—”

“He’s not a bad person, yes, Ari, we know.” Amir cuts him off, but with a friendly laugh. “No one here doubts that. It’s just that there’s an entire student body other than us, and, well. They might be difficult to convince.”

It’s a valid point. Ari nods, lacking the brain energy to do anything else. And then he pauses; lets his tired brain cells do their job and process the entire point. “Wait.” He blinks. “You’re all okay with Carys?”

His response is a blank stare from five pairs of eyes.

“Ari,” Penny sighs. “Just… go home.”

「 february 26 | monday | 4:20pm 」

He hasn’t seen Hyojin all day.

Not since this morning. Not since Hyojin walked away from him in the office. And it shouldn’t bother him, not logically, but it does.

It really does.

And so, he finds himself in one of the quiet streets at the back of the school; home to what seems to be an abandoned house, a mediocre park, a couple of stray cats, and an empty space on the broken cement road.

An empty space that should have Hyojin’s bike in it.

Evidently, as Ari is currently standing in said spot, he thinks it’s safe to say Hyojin has already left.

Which is a little unusual, if he’s being honest. It was already unusual enough for Hyojin not to have been bothering him throughout the entire day—it’s downright suspicious that there’s no delinquent currently pulling his tie down.

Okay.

Maybe he misses Hyojin.

Maybe.

Oh, who is he kidding?

Right on the cement, Ari drops down to a squat, pulling out his phone in some attempt to get his brain working. He doesn’t have to navigate long before he’s on his texts with the man causing him heart palpitations.

Are you alright? he types, and sends.

I want to see you, he types.

He doesn’t send that one.

Instead, he scrolls through the thread of messages, watching the blur of grey and blue bubbles. He’d never noticed how often they text. But he’s conscious of it now. He supposes that might be a side-effect of this whole ‘feelings’ thing.

Out loud, with no one to hear him, he groans, and drops his head into his hands.

He should really figure this all out. 

There’s not much else to debate on his romantic feelings—that whole debate was done and dusted, he’s in love with Hyojin Carys, whoop-dee-doo.

(Christ. He’s in love with Hyojin Carys.)

The current issue on the bulletin board is making sure said love-of-his-life is okay. Because it’s been almost a whole day, and Ari hasn’t heard from a man that usually doesn’t know how to shut up.

In his head, Ari starts a list of all the possible places he could find a certain rogue to be lurking. There aren’t many options that pop up—in fact, there’s pretty much only one viable option.

And it’d be a hell of a long shot, but…

[to be continued…]

Chapter Text

「 february 26 | monday | 9:07pm 」

So, it’s been a couple of hours.

He’d planned to be here right after he left school, but he’d caught a glance of his not-so-presidential appearance in his rear-view, and figured a visit home might be orderly.

The plan was to freshen up a little—run a comb through his hair, change out of his uniform, maybe spritz himself down with some more deodorant, maybe… maybe run a hot shower.

(Halfway through that shower, he’d realised all the effort beforehand had been for naught, since they were all quite literally now down the drain. But by that point, it’d been too late to bow out.)

(So he repeated the process afterwards.)

After all of that chaos, he was just about ready to jump into his car and hit the road—but his parents had caught him passing the living room, dragged him onto the couch, and interrogated him about a certain ‘call about him getting into a fight?’

…So he had to explain all of that.

And it was an entire debacle.

He wasn’t in severe trouble or anything like that, but it’s a little difficult to explain why you threw a punch at a kid you barely know, because he insulted your fake-boyfriend that you want to be your real boyfriend, and you weren’t even in the fight at first, but said fake-want-to-be-real-boyfriend jumped in, maybe in your defence, you’re not quite sure, and one thing led to another, and punches were flying, and words were being thrown around, and ties were being used as ropes, and now you apparently find fighting attractive for some reason, must be a psychological defect, and now you really really have to leave because you want to find that fake-real-whatever-the-hell-boyfriend because you might miss him and—

Anyway.

He’s here now.

Right where he wanted to be in the first place:

Hyojin’s apartment.

And if he’s being honest, he has no clue if this will work. But worst-case scenario, Hyojin isn’t home, and Ari will just have to wait it out to see that beautiful scowling face.

Well, the worst-case scenario would actually be Hyojin is home, but he very explicitly doesn’t want to see Ari, and they have an argument and—

Ari thinks it’s a good time to turn off his brain for the moment.

Switching the light switch off in his head for a second, Ari doesn’t think twice when he pushes the button to notify Hyojin’s apartment of a guest. He’d texted Hyojin a few times, saying he’d come to visit, but he’d been left on ‘delivered’ all afternoon. So he waits here, in the lobby, clinging onto the very small glimmer of hope that Hyojin will buzz him up.

And by some miracle…

He does.

Despite having adamantly turned off his brain, Ari starts thinking of a million and one scenarios that could happen when he knocks on that door. One includes Hyojin opening the door and slapping him. Another includes Hyojin opening the door and kissing him. And one… one includes something that he will ignore out of the goodness of his own heart.

He knocks on the door.

And instead of any of those million and one scenarios, a new one happens. The door doesn’t open; Hyojin isn’t there to greet him. No, instead, he hears a brief, “It’s open,” from inside. And that’s all he gets.

When a breath escapes him, he doesn’t know if it’s out of disappointment or relief.

The doorknob turns as easily as ever, and Ari lets himself in. It’s weird to do so without shuffling by a scowling Hyojin Carys; it’s a little off-putting. 

To his surprise, there still isn’t a scowling Hyojin to greet him when he enters—he’s met with the empty front room of Hyojin’s apartment: his kitchen area on the left, his living area on the right, and the mass of plants surrounding the doors to his balcony.

“Carys?” he calls out, taking a few uneasy steps forward. 

There’s no answer.

“Carys, you really shouldn’t greet your guests like that,” he says, to nothing in particular.

He hears that familiar chuckling laughter as an answer, from behind the door to the bedroom area. It’s slightly ajar, he notices now, and he takes a few cautious steps in.

Hyojin still isn’t there.

“What if I was someone else?” Ari continues, attempting to locate this slippery little weasel. (How hard can it be to find someone in their own little apartment?) “Someone dangerous?”

Letting his eyes wander, he catches sight of a few indications of living—Hyojin’s school bag, thrown haphazardly onto the floor by the window; a mug of instant coffee, still half-full, on the bedside table; and…

And Hyojin’s school uniform, lying on the bedsheets.

He looks away.

“I think you’re severely overestimating how many guests I get, prez.” There he is. Ari pivots to where he hears that voice, being met with that familiar grin on a man waltzing out of his bathroom. “And I don’t think anyone dangerous would knock with such polite taps.”

The comment would usually warrant a remark back from Ari on how it’s perfectly normal to be polite with your knocking, thank you very much, but at the current moment—at the current moment, he’s a little… distracted.

What he’s met with is a sight for the sorest eyes.

He’d spent damn near the whole of last night gaping and gawking at Hyojin, but apparently, that night hadn’t even been him at his best.

Not if…

Not if what Ari is looking at, now, is counted into the mix. 

Hyojin Carys is in front of him, adjusting an intricate lace choker around his slender neck—the cherry on top of a look that’s too flattering for Ari’s brain to comprehend without buffering.

A long-sleeved sheer bodysuit lays atop a sleeveless turtleneck-crop combination, both sitting comfy against a soft build; and Ari would question the point of it if he wasn’t completely enamoured with the way it draws him, pulls his gaze toward that godforsaken tattoo.

And then, because his eyes betray him, Ari finds his gaze following those inky lines down a soft stomach, catching sight of a pair of leather pants—so low-riding that Ari can see how prominent Hyojin’s hipbones are, how they protrude from his build and shimmer with highlight.

It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a sort of… body chain, Ari would like to call it. It frames his hips, a thin string of shimmering gems, hugging his waist in a way that would look impractical if it wasn’t making Ari feel hot under his collar. Two chains connect it down to his thighs—overlaying a band hugging the plush of Hyojin’s left thigh, overfilling just a tad bit in those pants, and it looks soft; it looks so soft and pliable and—

And Ari feels something drop into his gut.

He catches himself before his gaze falls into territory too dangerous for even him to argue—and he forces his eyes to stop staring at Hyojin’s body.

…If only to stare at his face, instead.

But Ari can’t find it in himself to take the blame—not when Hyojin is there, leaning against the wall, with a fang-toothed grin framed by enticing black gloss and two silver rings hooked on a plump bottom lip. Not when Hyojin is staring right back at him, eyes painted in smudged blacks and reds, smoked out to messy perfection; to suggestive promise.

Not when most importantly— most importantly! —Hyojin is across from him… with his face completely uncovered.

Unobscured.

He’s styled his hair up and away from his eyes for once, the natural wave of his hair falling to one side and framing his face perfectly. (Ari wonders, in all this, when Hyojin had gotten that beauty mark by his left temple.)

Ari can look at him, and not have to squint to see those gorgeous brown eyes. Ari can look at him, and see that smug expression in perfect clear view. He can see those piercings—all glamoured up, accessorised by silver rings and chains and hanging crosses.

And Ari has never been more glad that someone has broken the rules—because those chains, and cuffs, and all that silver… it looks downright divine on Hyojin’s porcelain skin; against inky black waves.

Maybe Hyojin is a god at manipulating his looks to his advantage.

(Or maybe—perhaps—Ari is just really, irrevocably, unquestionably gay.)

He looks absolutely breathtaking.

And Ari can’t believe it’s taken him this fucking long to realise he’s in love with the guy.

“What?” Hyojin laughs, eyes half-lidded and teasing as he runs his tongue over one of the lip rings he wears. “Never seen a guy dress up before?”

Not like this, Ari hasn’t. He knows exactly what type of fashion group this falls into; what type of group Hyojin falls into. He just never thought he’d find it this attractive. “I—” his voice comes out in a squeak, completely hoarse from shock. “I, um. You— look good. You look… really good.”

Hyojin bites the inside of his cheeks, trying desperately not to pounce onto the president and his bashful expression. “You’re not too bad yourself,” he replies, running his gaze over Ari’s outfit-of-choice: a t-shirt underneath an open flannel, tucked into denim jeans that leave a tasteful silhouette behind.

It’s not exactly the hottest thing he could pull off, but it’s a lot fucking better than a sweater-vest and Oxfords.

He strides over to his own bed, passing by Ari on the way—he thinks he hears a sharp intake of breath from the man, and he smiles at it. “So what brings you here, prez? Some more practice, maybe?”

“I just wanted to—” The comment settles, and Ari stutters for a second, before pushing through. “I just wanted to check up on you. Make sure you’re alright, after… well.”

Hyojin snorts, making his way around the room to shove a few belongings into a small black bag. “Well, I’m fine and dandy. Did you need something else, or did you really drive all the way out here just to check on my existence?”

There’s a slight hesitation with his next words, as Ari stands there with his hands by his sides, unsure of what to do. “Are you… going somewhere?”

Hyojin smiles. “Work.”

“Work?” A pause. “That’s— those are your work clothes? ” The flush on the president’s face moves up to the high of his cheekbones, almost completely hiding his freckles in a red hue. Hyojin doesn’t bother hiding a laugh. “What— Where do you work for that to— to be the uniform?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“That’s why I asked,” Ari retorts, mouth falling prey to easy banter before his brain can even process it.

Something seems to alight in Hyojin’s eyes at the words, though, and Ari takes back any regrets he may have. After all, when Hyojin Carys is staring at him like that, all dark shadows and devilish smile, how could he regret anything in life?

(Okay, he might be overreacting. But can you blame him?)

When Hyojin steps closer to him, Ari notices the leather boots he wears; boots that give him those couple more inches of height he needs to be eye-level with the president. Ari doesn’t realise he’s inching backward until his back hits the bedroom door, chin held high in an attempt to keep up his practised dynamic of Being The Taller One.

He’s still in the process of deciding whether he hates or loves having Hyojin’s face in line with his, when Hyojin leans a hand against the wall by his head, trapping him in a position he doesn’t really feel the need to get out of, if he’s being honest.

“You’re curious?” Something about the tenor of Hyojin’s voice, combined with those silver rings and black gloss—something about it just lights Ari’s body up from the inside. (He’s not complaining.) “How ‘bout you come with me, then?”

Ari blinks. “Come— with you? To your workplace?” Half of him is sceptical. The other half wants to see what exactly Hyojin works as—especially with something like this as the uniform.

“No,” Hyojin comments, eyes bored, “back to school. Yes, to my workplace, you moron.” The name would make Ari mad if he wasn’t so currently preoccupied with trying so hard not to stare at Hyojin’s lips as he speaks.

“It’s—” he clears his throat, rebuilding what little resolve he has, “It’s late, and—”

“So?” Hyojin leans closer with his words; so close that Ari feels his chest rise; so close that he can smell the subtle notes of Hyojin’s cologne. He’s not sure what cologne it is. He’s not sure what scent it’s supposed to be. But what he does know is that Hyojin has him trapped against a wall, is staring at him with dark eyes, and is apparently completely unaware of the fact that Ari is halfway to losing his mind. “Be a bad boy, prez. Just for one night, hm?”

Curse him and his persuasiveness. “We have school tomorrow,” Ari attempts.

Hyojin shrugs, a little chuckle coming out of him. “Not me, I don’t. One week suspension for starting a fight.”

Suddenly, in a shameful moment of complete and utter clarity, Ari remembers why he’s even here in the first place. (Not here, like, pressed up against Hyojin Carys’ body and his bedroom wall, but here , as in, at the apartment in the first place, and—) “That’s really not fair…”

“Better than expulsion,” Hyojin argues, effectively shutting the president up. His tone has Ari remembering a hallway and a grin and a maniacal laugh—he decides it’d be best to leave it be.

Oh, leaving it be.

That’s exactly what Hyojin wants, isn’t it?

To drag him out to god-knows-where and probably do things that will have him half-regretting life and half-blissful out of his mind.

You know…

Ari used to have resolve.

And then he met Hyojin Carys.

He lets a sigh escape his lips, leaning his head back to knock against the door. “Alright,” he says. Through half-closed eyes, he watches as the man before him dons a grin—entirely too full of himself for it to be as attractive as Ari finds it.

(Damn. So he finally knows what that churning feeling in his gut is, every time Hyojin looks at him with a fire behind his eyes.)

(All it took was a couple of existential crises.)

“I’ll go.”

「 february 26 | monday | 10:01pm 」

Archambeau—a popular, fairly recent, big-boom name in the city: a sort of nightclub-lounge fusion, the first of its kind in the area, and definitely exclusive enough to live up to the reputation.

A place for people to lose their inhibitions and probably (definitely) more; a place known for its promiscuity, and yet somehow, its ethics. Ari remembers reading an article on how the owner is an active advocate for healthy sex work and the like—he wasn’t personally interested in that article, but his ma sure had been. She was downright thrilled.

There’d been a lot of stigma around the business. But for each negative opinion, there were five positive ones.

And somehow…

Somehow, Ari isn’t surprised that this is the place Hyojin Carys works.

They’re at the entrance now, a fairly posh lobby of a skyscraper in the heart of the city. ‘The boss owns the building, but Archambeau only takes up a few of the top levels,’ Hyojin had explained to him on the walk from the parking lot. ‘Can’t be fucked to ask what the rest of it’s used for.’

He follows Hyojin’s trail wordlessly, hands fiddling with the helmet in his grasp and eyes roving around an unfamiliar place made of dark marble, golden accents, and deep crimson walls. It’s an atmosphere that Ari feels completely out of place in, both physically and mentally. (Part of him wishes Hyojin had styled him again, but he doesn’t think he’d survive another one of those nights so soon.)

When they reach what looks like a front desk, though probably something different due to its position away from the actual entrance, the person behind the marble dons a sly smile at the sight of the pair.

“Look who decided to finally show!” They laugh, pulling their elaborate sunglasses down their nose with a manicured finger, running their eyes up and down Hyojin’s figure. Ari chooses not to question the whole wearing-sunglasses-inside thing—not when they’re also wearing a blazer that he thinks is also a cape…

Really, Ari decides to just let everything happen. He’s way out of his territory here—and he knows when to step back; when to remain a spectator.

Hyojin rolls his eyes, though Ari’s curiosity peaks when he sees that fang-toothed grin. “They’re not gonna fire me over being a minute late, Phaelyn,” he counters, handing his helmet over the desk.

Phaelyn, who Ari can only assume is an amicable coworker, hums as they take the helmet. “Keep up that attitude and they just might, Jin.”

Jin?

Ari doesn’t get time to ask about the name—soon enough, Phaelyn is looking at him, those intense eyes performing a quick once-over his body. “And who’s this? A lost dog?”

He can’t tell if it’s an insult.

“He’s with me,” Hyojin offers, pulling off the leather jacket he’d worn to cover up and probably protect his outfit against the wind, handing it off into Phaelyn’s waiting grasp.  

“Oh?” Glossy red lips twist into another grin, prompting Ari to clear his throat.

“I’m Ari,” he greets, plastering on the smile he uses when meeting parents at school events. “Nice to meet you.”

Phaelyn holds out a hand, metallic red nails glinting in the dim lights. “Likewise. Phaelyn. Or just Lyn, if you want.”  They laugh when Ari grasps their hand to shake it, leaving Ari blinking like a deer in the headlights. “Helmet,” is all they say—Ari follows the command after a brief ‘oh’ under his breath, offering up the helmet and a little bit of his shame.

Ari isn’t blind to the way Hyojin is trying to hide his laughter, beside him. If he didn’t look so handsome with a smile on his face, Ari would be annoyed.

But he really can’t be—not when Hyojin looks so at home here, in the marble walls. He watches on as Hyojin exchanges a few words with Phaelyn, completely decent and even nice. There’s a soft smile on that face of his, one that’s genuine and rare and beautifully him.

Ari wonders, briefly, if this is what Hyojin could have been at school.

What would their relationship be like? If Hyojin was like this at school—if he wasn’t forced to be unapproachable and aloof; if he was just another student… 

Would they still be friends?

Would they have been more?

Ari thinks they could be more.

He’s a little too lost in his thoughts when he realises he’s following Hyojin into another elevator, slightly off to the side of the area they’d left Phaelyn. The interior is just as extravagant as the rest of the building—the walls made entirely of dark-tinted mirrors; the floor and ceiling made of screens depicting red smoke.

His eyes roam the place as they wait to get to the top; his desires seep into his gaze, and soon enough, he’s staring at Hyojin again—staring at that bored face in the mirror; at the slit in his exposed brow and at the tongue that plays with a silver ring around a lip.

He can’t help it.

Not when he looks like… like that.

Like he could have anything—anyone—served to him on a golden platter, and make it a show worth watching. A show worth paying for.

Ari’s scared of the man he’ll become once he sees Hyojin at work.

(Whatever ‘work’ means for him.)

“Y’know,” Hyojin voices, all rounded vowels and captivating tenor, “for a guy who apparently doesn’t like me, you sure do stare a lot.”

The usual reaction for Ari would be to look away; to pretend like he wasn’t caught in his fascination. Tonight, though, isn’t the usual. Something in the air. 

So he keeps staring, right into the mirror, and straightens his spine when he sees deep brown staring right back at him.

“Since when do I not like you?” Ari asks, voice hushed—all but echoing in the silence of the elevator.

Truly, if only he knew.

Hyojin just chuckles through a closed mouth, lips spreading into a half-smile. “You saying you like me, prez?”

If only he fucking knew.

Despite himself, Ari can’t answer. He swallows against dry walls, cursing high heavens when he looks away from Hyojin’s intense gaze.

He’s a weak man.

“You fit in here,” he mumbles, a slave to his pathetic conscious. “You seem more… open.”

In his peripheral, he sees Hyojin shrug, the material of his sheer overshirt slipping down, exposing more of his bare shoulder—and Ari has never felt more like a 19th-century gentleman whose only knowledge of touch is that of a paintbrush against his fingers. “You guys had your house parties; I had this place.”

Ari wishes that didn’t have to be his explanation.

He’s about to say something, anything, but the elevator doors are opening before his mouth can—and then the noise hits. And he can’t even pray for his own voice to be heard over the crowd.

As he steps out and onto a mezzanine sort-of platform, overlooking the crowd, his vision fills with red; his ears are flooded with booming music, clamouring voices, and enough bass in the floor for him to feel it in his veins.

It’s definitely a nightclub, that’s for damn sure.

He doesn’t get time to process it all—before he knows it, Hyojin’s hand is held against his own, leading him down one side of the grand staircase, and into the sea of bodies. It truly looks like something out of a movie. The walls are made of glass, exposing the city lights from however many feet up they stand; there are platforms of dancers and poles and people so intoxicated and lost in their own lust that Ari can’t help but admire them; neon red lights cover the space in eccentric railings, stage setup, and even— 

Ari thinks he just saw a floating neon red cage —but he’s being dragged behind a set of glowing red dividers before he can take a better look. 

And throughout it all, Hyojin is still holding his hand.

There’s no longer a crowd for him to get lost in; his mind can’t help but take a moment or two to revel in the brush of calluses against his palm.

Wouldn’t it be grand, if it meant something more?

They’re in a hallway now, the noises of the nightlife slowly fading as they stride under modern chandeliers, illuminating the dark space in a way that has Ari feeling like a fish out of water and in a 20s piano bar.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re really obedient?”

It’s definitely not the conversation starter Ari was expecting. He’s still shuffling after Hyojin, hand in hand, when he processes the question. “N… no? I mean— people have called me cooperative before, but that’s… I’m not sure if that’s the same thing.” Ignoring the heat he feels in his ears, he clears his throat. “Why do you ask?”

Hyojin isn’t even looking at him when he hums, still facing forward as they walk past minimalistic numbered doors. “No reason.”

Eventually, the left wall of the hallway turns into panes of glass—and when they get closer, Ari notices that the other side is home to a jawdroppingly-large collection of alcohol: rows and rows of it, taller than he could ever hope to be.

Before he can even think to look past the bottles and into the space, Hyojin is pulling him around a corner—and if he didn’t feel ‘out of place’ before, he feels entirely like a huge neon green hologram in the goddamned sky now.

In the lounge counterpart of Archambeau’s nightclub-lounge fusion, Ari has to stop himself from letting his jaw drop open, lest he look even more like a fool than he already does. It’s a mix between something futuristic and something reminiscent of the golden eras: the dim amber lighting, the floor-to-ceiling window walls, the inviting lounge chairs arranged around the space—the chandeliers, somehow both modern minimalism and old-money mansion.

In short, it definitely lives up to its exclusive reputation; all this… and Ari is in a flannel.

A flannel.

May the almighty help him.

Fortunately, his moment of shame doesn’t last as long as he’d like it to—his arm is being tugged forward again, down along the counter of the long bar. The room is more full than he’d thought it would be at this early hour, but definitely (thankfully) more sparse than the clubroom had been. A few groups mingling on the larger couches, along with some couples and the occasional idling single; Ari takes a moment to observe the room around him, letting it all sink in.

He’s a little lost in his thoughts, buffering for a second when Hyojin comes to a halt in front of him.

“Why the fuck are you two here?”

Ari pops his head out from behind Hyojin, his curiosity winning against his judgement. He’s not sure what he was expecting to see—a pair of old friends that he doesn’t know; perhaps a former lover (God forbid that to be the case); maybe his own two mothers, but-

But it’s definitely… definitely not Maki and Jaime.

(Maki, he understands. The man’s probably got scary connections. But Jaime? Jaime? In one of the city’s most exclusive clubs? Who the hell did he bribe in order to get in? He understands the two come as a package deal, but he didn't realise their siamese act triumphed every other rule in the world.)

His shock must be embarrassingly evident on his face, because the pair—sitting at the end of the bar, elaborately-designed glassware in their hands, dressed to the nines—don a smile each, eyes lighting up at the sight of their president.

Maki’s hauntingly contagious laughter is the first response they get. The passing desire of wanting to go home fades quickly in Ari’s mind, soul tied to the feeling of Hyojin’s hand still in his.

“Well!” Maki outbursts, though not as disturbing as he is in class, with a wide grin. “If it isn’t the infamous couple.”

Jaime leans his head back from behind his companion, smile a tad bit more inviting. “Hyojin! Hi!” He seems eager as always, though the man standing beside Ari seems the exact opposite of enthused.

“Hi, Jaime,” he answers, tone reluctant. “Are you gonna tell me why you’re here, or do I have to force the answer out of you?”

He simply laughs, either completely oblivious to Hyojin’s hostility, or the greatest actor the world has ever seen. “I’m just here to hang out, man. Chill a little, you know?”

“Mhm. So us both being here is a complete coincidence, is it?” Jaime nods, but Hyojin lets out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, bullshit. How’d you know I work here?”

With a face so innocently pure it could fool a literal angel, Jaime shrugs. “Don’t question things you don’t want to know.”

“About time you showed up to work, Jin.”

All four heads turn to the person behind the counter: an elegant lady in an elaborate pink-and-gold suit, with her long blonde hair swooped to one side—displaying beautiful golden chains hanging from her ears—leaning on the bar with an aura that has Ari already admiring her.

She raises a brow at the man in question, rouge-red lips quirking into a smirk. “Well? I’d love to hear your excuse for being late this time.”

Dripping in charismatic aloofness, Hyojin drops Ari’s hand in lieu of twirling himself onto a bar stool, leaning on the bar with his elbows. “C’mon, Bloss,” he chides. “A few minutes isn’t a problem, especially on a slow night.”

The woman, who Ari assumes is Hyojin’s higher-up, narrows her eyes. “Keep talking like that, and it will be.”

“That’s what Phaelyn said.”

“Yeah,” she snorts, “because they’ve got a brain. And common decency.”

Hyojin rolls his eyes, scoffing. “They haven’t got a single fucking ounce of decency and you know it. Besides, you’ve got a five-star employee here; you’re not gonna throw it away.” He emphasises his point with a flourish, gesturing to himself, cocksure of his own attractiveness. “When you find someone who brings in more regulars than I do, call me. I’d love to hear about them.”

Cocky is a very good look on Hyojin, Ari thinks.

Maybe too good a look.

Ignoring the heat under his collar, the student president pries his eyes away from the smirk laid upon Hyojin’s glossy black lips. He pries his mind away from thoughts of those lips; of those silver rings; of what it would feel like, to have his own lips pressed against them.

Wow.

It really took him this long to figure out his feelings?

Maybe he’s more emotionally inept than he thought.

“Whatever,” ‘Bloss’ groans, admitting defeat. “Arguing with you never gets me anywhere anyway. Just get behind the bar, will you?”

The usual hum-chuckle falls out of Hyojin in waves, leaving Ari’s earbuds in blissful heaven. “Always a pleasure, Bloss.” And with that, he hops off the seat and glides into the bar through the open entrance.

It’s strange, Ari finds himself pondering. Slightly strange. To see Hyojin Carys like this—like a normal, cheerful guy, bantering with his coworker. It’s a side of him that Ari has yet to see; the easy-going fragment of a man who’s probably got more baggage than hairs on his head.

But he’s not complaining.

It’s sort of… nice.

That he’s privy to it, now. 

Makes him feel a little closer to the guy. Makes him feel a little more important. Like he means something to Hyojin; means something more than a… well, a fake boyfriend.

“So, cutie,” the woman starts. Ari blinks, hesitating for a second, before pointing to himself. She laughs, in a posh sort of way—dignified, but friendly. “Yes, you. Call me Blossom, or Bloss; whatever you prefer. What’s your name?”

“Ari,” he provides, donning his showstopping smile. He’d almost forgotten he can do this—be an extrovert, when it calls for it. (Spending time with Hyojin Carys has rendered him completely useless. And gay. Useless and gay.) 

Blossom crosses her arms across the suit she wears, elbowing Hyojin beside her, who’s busied himself with wiping down some glasses. “You look lost, Ari. You sure you weren’t kidnapped?”

It’s easy to laugh, he finds, with her. “No, no, nothing like that. I promise I’m here of my own volition—I think it’s just that, ah…” He hesitates, painfully aware of the shit-eating grin on Maki’s face. “This isn’t really… my usual scene. I’ve, uh, never been to a club before.”

“Not even once?” Blossom asks, raising her brows. “Not even a passing glance at an entrance of one?”

“He’s something of a puritan, this one,” Jaime cuts in, the straw of his highball pushed to the side of his mouth.

Maki laughs in a lilted giggle—playful, as always. “More like the virgin Mary.”

Somewhat of a toxic duo together, Jaime inputs even more: “Can you believe those two are dating?”

It takes Blossom by surprise, to say the least. Her eyes shoot like darts, swapping between Hyojin’s aloof face and Ari’s flushed one, her jaw slack and lips open. “You? And— and you?” 

Ari swears he sees Hyojin smirk; eyes still focused on the glasses in his grasp.

“Damn,” Blossom breathes out, eyes wide in disbelief. “Talk about two worlds colliding. What, are you corrupting him?” She teases, elbowing Hyojin again.

“He’s not—”

“No,” Hyojin answers, cutting Ari off, not even looking up from his work. “But it’s tempting to.”

Useless and gay.

Emphasis on the…

Well.

You know.

Maki makes a gagging noise, followed by more giggling. Jaime hums. “Yuki, remember when—” Ari feels his heart drop into his fucking ass. 

“No, please!” He cries, holding out his hands in mock surrender. "Please, don't— I am— I am so, so sorry about that, I—"

“Ah, no worries, man,” Jaime reassures with a casual wave of his hand. “It’s probably the kind of thing we should expect, hey? Being friends with Hyojin and all.”

Ari blinks, speechless for half a second, before he turns to Hyojin with a slight quirk in his lip. “Friends,” he repeats.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Hyojin just rolled his eyes at him. “You’ll shut up if you know what’s good for you, prez.”

Though the words are harsh, the tone is something Ari has found himself drenched in adoration with; he feels his lips spread in a bashful smile. It definitely helps that Hyojin half-smiles back at him, too, though it’s slightly hidden under all that reputation.

“Alright, enough flirting,” Blossom interrupts, waving a hand between them. “Jin needs to actually do what he’s paid for.”

“Moodkiller,” Hyojin mumbles.

“Whore,” Blossom retorts.

“Thanks,” Hyojin replies, with a smug smile.

Blossom just sighs, turning her attention to Ari with much more amiability. “Go mingle; enjoy yourself! That’s what the place is made for, after all.”

Averting his eyes for a moment a bit too long, Ari rubs the back of his neck out of sheer awkwardness. “Uh… I don’t…”

“My shift ends at one,” Hyojin tells him, back turned from the bar as he stores the glasses he’d just cleaned. “So you’ve got those hours to kill. It’s painfully obvious you’re a fish out of water here, but try adapting. Go dance, or some shit.”

Ari’s lips purse to one side, brows knitting together as he stares at the back he’s come to love. “But I don’t want to leave—I want to stay with you.” Hyojin turns around, at that. Raises a brow. “I don’t know anyone else here…”

Somehow, Hyojin finds himself caught between calling Ari adorable, and calling him pathetic.  (The latter may be a little bit of a mean thought, but, well… Hyojin is a little bit of a mean person.)

With an unceremonious twirl, Maki hops off of his seat and wraps an arm around the president’s neck, effectively dragging him down a couple inches. “I’ll get him out of your hair, Hyojin. C’mon, Ari!”

“I—”

And without further announcement, Maki pivots the two of them, blissfully skipping away from the bar with the president in a chokehold.

It’s quite a hilarious scene to bear witness to, Hyojin will admit. He’s glad Blossom’s gone off to deal with the customer down the bar; he gets to stand there and laugh his ass off at Ari’s awkward, gangly limbs trying to walk under Maki’s weight.

He really doesn’t belong in a place like this.

And that just makes it so much better.

The two of them have made it to a cheerful group, now—Maki’s dragged the president down into the couches to have a drink and exchange stories. Even from where he’s standing, on the other side of the lounge, Hyojin can see with crystal clear vision the big smile on Ari’s face—a little too big to be natural; a little too strained.

Usually, he’d hate seeing a forced smile on the guy. A waste of a handsome face. But tonight, something’s different—those brown eyes still have that shine to them; they still have that wonder and amazement that only innocent souls and Ari Astutia have to the world. It’s not a forced smile out of misery. It’s just the forced smile of a guy who lacks some social skills.

It’s a little bit adorable.

In its own way.

“You really like him, huh?”

Hyojin internally groans. He’d forgotten about little ol’ Jaime on the bar. While he busies his hands with making a syrup mix, he gives the guy in his companionship a quick glance. “Wouldn’t be dating him if I didn’t,” he answers. He’s determined to keep playing this little game—because Ari hasn’t said anything otherwise, and, plus… it’s fun to fool people.

With that annoyingly friendly laugh of his, Jaime swirls the remaining few inches of liquid in his glass. “Well, there’s a difference between being in a relationship with someone, and wanting to be in that relationship.”

He gets a raised brow as a response, from an unamused bartender wondering what the hell he’s on about. 

In the usual Jaime fashion, he chooses to ignore it. “So, you two are pretty serious?”

Hyojin shrugs with one shoulder. “Serious enough. Why?”

“I’m not interrogating you, man,” Jaime says with a chortle. “Just… making some talk. You get it.”

“Yeah,” Hyojin scoffs. “Sure.”

There’s a moment of blissful silence, then, as Jaime pivots in his seat for a second—glancing over his shoulder to where Ari sits on a couch by the wall, illuminated by the lights of the city behind him and people complimenting his looks in front of him.

For someone who doesn’t belong, he really adapts well, Hyojin thinks. Just part of the president gig, he guesses. To get a grasp on everything. Get used to things quick.

“I really admire you two,” Jaime mumbles with his straw between his lips, more like an old man giving out wisdom than a drunkard offering street advice. “In the mess of high school, you managed to find each other.”

It occurs to Hyojin that he’s stuck with this babbling idiot now.

“And—I’ll admit it—you two becoming a thing gave me enough incentive to talk to you, so I’m thankful.” Yeah, Hyojin thinks, that was the whole fucking point of it. “Sorry for thinking you weren’t great before. You’re a good guy, Hyojin.”

“Mm. Hardly.”

“No, seriously.” Putting his glass down and leaning on his hand, Jaime stares up at his supposed friend. “I get it now; how nasty those rumours were. You’re not some crime boss; you’re just a guy trying to get through life. And I’m glad you found Ari on the way.”

Well…

Hyojin guesses he can… somewhat agree with that last point.

Somewhat.

“I think you’re perfect for each other, you know,” Jaime says, all stupidly sincere and whole-hearted. “As far as high school relationships go, you two really seem solid. Like… soulmates. As cheesy as that is.”

Hyojin almost laughs at the thought of it.

Him and the president?

Soulmates?

Curiosity gets the better of him. “Why do you think that?” Jaime’s eyes light up at the question, and a huge grin spreads across his face.

“The way you look at him.”

It’s a ridiculous answer.

And his disbelief shows through his expression—Jaime just laughs at it, shaking his head. “Listen, I know it sounds stupid, but it’s the truth. I’ve seen you guys at school, in the hallways and in classrooms. And just now, too, when Yuki dragged him off. When you look at him, you just… you’ve got this air about you, man. Like you’re exhausted with him, but you’d do anything for him, too. And that, in itself, is just… precious.”

Hyojin just stares at him as he talks, face blank.

“And I saw the fight, too. You were smiling like a literal psychopath half the time, but, well— when it came to Ari, you had this… look. Like you were infatuated with his very being.” Jaime continues with a wonky smile on his features, tracing the rim of his glass with a finger. “Do you know, in the movies, that trope called ‘the look of love’? That’s what it is, with you two. Whenever you look at each other, it’s just like you’re lost in your own little world.”

From across the room, Maki’s giggle soars through the air.

“It’s rare to find something as real as what you two have,” Jaime says simply, like it’s a statistic. “Two people liking each other is hard enough—being absolutely enamoured with each other? Now that… that’s history. That’s something to cherish.”

The words fly across the bar, winding around Hyojin’s body, crawling under his skin.

“Who would’ve thought, right? The president and the delinquent.” Jaime laughs into his glass, the treble of his voice echoing. “What a story.”

What a story indeed.

Apparently finished with his little monologue, Jaime downs the rest of his drink, placing it down on the bar when he’s finished. “Alright,” he concludes, sliding off the chair. “I’ve got business I need to get to.”

“Business?” Somehow, Hyojin doubts that.

“Yeah,” Jaime responds with a grin, wiggling his brows. “Business. Anyway. Good talk, Jinnie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Blowing a kiss to his bestest friend in the whole wide world, Jaime turns on his heel and strides out of the lounge, head swaying to the notes of the music playing through the speakers.

Hyojin rolls his eyes.

About three dozen cocktails later, guests stop bombarding the bar.

About three dozen cocktails later, Hyojin gets a little time to himself.

About three dozen cocktails later…

And Hyojin is still thinking about what Jaime said.

It’s not like he wanted to think about it. It was unfortunate coincidence that the decorative golden glasses he was serving drinks in reminded him of the little gold flakes in Ari’s eyes. It was unfortunate coincidence that one of the customers pouting at their friend for not letting them pay for the drinks reminded him of how Ari’s cheeks get puffy when he gets upset and purses his lips. 

And it’s unfortunate coincidence now, when he’s got the time to question his brain, that his phone—sitting at the end of the bar, next to the stack of serviettes—lights up with a notification.

You look very professional when you work, the text reads. From none other than the man who’s been crawling into every crevice of his thoughts.

When he glances up, he catches Ari watching him from behind the glass walls—he’s out on the balcony, now, with Maki beside him. Their eyes meet for a split second, before Ari gives a little wave, and turns back around, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.

Hyojin isn’t sure what to think.

Him, ‘absolutely enamoured’ with the president? He knows he’s a good actor, but he didn’t think he was that good. Enough to fool Jaime, sure, but enough to have the guy become a poet, spouting shit about soulmates and ‘looks of love’?

What kind of bullshit…

His phone lights up again: It’s admirable :)

And he notices something, then. As he watches the text notification fade, his own damn lock screen stares him right in the face. 

It’s a photo. He’d changed it to his lock screen, back when he took it—thought it was funny, and didn’t think much past that. But looking at it now, after a very one-sided conversation with Jaime, and an endearing text from his fake-boyfriend…

Well. Suffice to say, having a picture of the school president’s sleeping face as your lock screen may be a little… suspicious. 

In his defence, it was good blackmail material. he’d taken those photos of Ari when he’d fallen asleep on the couch in the student council room. Back on Valentine’s Day—back when they started all this fake dating crap.

Jesus.

He’s had Ari as his lock screen since Valentine’s.

That’s…

Hm.

Determined to betray himself, or at least get some answers for the question mark that’s just appeared above his head, Hyojin risks another glance up at the balcony—at Ari.

Hyojin Carys is standing behind the bar, an ice machine in front of him and a soda gun next to him, when he connects the dots.

Something seems to change.

Something shifts.

And suddenly, he can’t help but feel there’s a certain… something to the way he looks at Ari.

It’s not an epiphany.

It’s barely even a realisation.

He’s known for a while now that the way he treats Ari is anything but fucking platonic—he’s been brutally aware of it since the first day they started this little plan of theirs. Those intentions of his; intentions that he would never—and will never— admit out loud to Ari… although they’d started out as something he could be ashamed of, they definitely haven’t been for the past however many days.

Tease him. Break him. Get him off his pedestal and down onto his knees. What ever happened to those motives? What ever happened to taking an upright man, tugging at his strings, sanding him down into something sinful, and watching on as he crumbled?

When did the school president become more than a toy for his entertainment?

Admittedly, he’s a little afraid of the answer.

He’s never had to think about shit like this before—he’s not the type of person to write his every existential crisis on a page in a journal; not the type of person to spend hours upon hours just contemplating on his emotions, of all things.

All his previous affiliations were just that. Affiliations. Flings. Flirts. Fuck-buddies. Nothing ever lasted any more than a week. Because usually, around a week, he’d get tired of them. Or they’d get tired of him. Or whatever mutual agreement they’d had with each other would eventually dissipate, the initial curiosity of a stranger already gone with the wind.

But Ari…

Ari has been around for longer than Hyojin expected him to be. And something about that… about the boy who’d signed a paper so Hyojin could have a tie; about the boy whose golden image fades to dust at a mere sentence from Hyojin’s lips; about the boy who was willing to help, despite no one else wanting to… something about him tugs Hyojin back in and compels him to stay.

And it’s probably love.

But Hyojin doesn’t know how to deal with that. 

[to be continued...]

Chapter Text

「 february 27 | tuesday | 12:11am 」

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like to fall in love?”

Maki is beginning to wonder if the glass of water Ari was drinking from was spiked.

They’re out on the balcony right now, the night wind a gentle wave against their bodies, leaning out on the glass railings. And for the past half an hour or so, they’d been in peaceful quiet. You know, the type of silence that’s both comfortable and somewhat awkward. (Though, maybe that’s just his own need to always be on a topic.)

“Not really,” Maki answers. 

Ari whips his head around at his reply, pretty eyes wide in shock. Maki raises a brow. “Oh, sorry, I—” Ari clears his throat, mending his face into something less expressive. “I just… wasn’t expecting that sort of answer from you.”

The comment gets a little laugh out of Maki. “Hey, I can be sappy sometimes. ‘Sides, you look like you’re thinkin’ hard about stuff. Life, probably.”

“Something like that.”

“Been there.” Ari stares at him again, unblinking, for half a second too long. “Bro, c’mon. Even sexy people get down in the dumps sometimes. I’m honestly more surprised that you , of all people, seem depressed.”

Breathing out a sigh and watching the fog come out of his mouth, Ari stares out into the light of the city. “Me, of all people?”

“I don’t know, man,” Maki responds, turning around to lean on the railing with his back. “You seem so put-together all the time, y’know? President perfect.”

Ari chuckles, though it’s dry and humourless. “Right.”

There’s a little moment of silence, there, filled with the hushed conversation of the couple a few feet away from them on the balcony.

And then Maki clears his throat. “So. Love troubles?”

With a hum, leaning his chin on his hand and his elbow on the glass, Ari shrugs. “I suppose.”

“I’m here to listen,” Maki tells him, shoving his shoulder into Ari’s. He sounds sincere, and while it somewhat confuses Ari, it leaves him grateful as well. “We might not be the closest, and I’m probably not the best for advice, but… I’ve got working ears. And alcohol, so. Vent your heart out.”

Ari wonders if this is really his only chance of spilling his heart out to someone that’s not his mother, nor his journal.

He’ll take it.

“It’s Carys,” he mumbles out, choosing his words carefully and only speaking of the things he can. “I’ve… been thinking about him a lot, recently.”

“Well, yeah,” Maki snorts, “you’re dating him.”

When he bites his lip, he feels a small part of skin between his teeth. “...Yeah. I’ve just— been, um. It’s been a wild ride, with him. Being my first relationship and all.” Even though it’s not real. “...I have this… fear, inside me, gnawing away at my conscience—that he… that Carys doesn’t feel the same way for me as I do him.”

Maki just raises a brow, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “I mean… he’s dating you, isn’t he? So that’s gotta count for something.”

He’s somewhat right, Ari supposes. Hyojin is going along with the plan— has been, this entire time. It has to count for something, as he says. (He hopes.) “Maybe. But… who’s to say he feels the same way I do? To the same—level?”

“I think that’s a natural thing to feel in relationships,” Maki offers, swirling his glass and taking a sip. “That little voice in your head, all insecurities and shit. Tells you your partner is just settling down for you, or that they’ll leave eventually. All part of the human brain, no?”

Ari hums. “I suppose that’s true… though it doesn’t really help my anxiety about the situation.”

“Sorry.” Thankfully, the apology comes to Ari with a lighthearted air.

Say what you will about the guy, but Ari really admires Maki’s grasp on his people skills. He’s never had a moment quite like this with him—nothing more personal than a few friendly conversations at school—but he’s beginning to think that they could be great friends.

“I’ll be honest,” he continues, getting Ari’s attention enough for a glance, “I’m not around you guys much. I mean, Amir and I are pals, and Luce too, but you and Hyojin… Ah, I dunno. Kinda just, like, friends of friends, you get? So I don’t really have the right to say anything about your relationship. But, uh… just, as an outside observer, could I suggest something?”

Eyes locked onto Maki’s, Ari nods with endearing enthusiasm. It would be nice, he reckons, to get a differing perspective. Maybe it’d help clear his head.

“Trust your instincts.” It’s a simple sentence, and doesn’t have much to it, but the smile Maki gives him is enough for Ari to be thankful. “Sometimes, that’s all you need to do. It might be scary sometimes, might even seem like the worst decision, but it’s probably in your head for a reason.”

“...When did you get so smart?”

With a snort, Maki shakes his head at his president. “You gonna take my advice, or not?”

Arms still braced against the glass, Ari runs the pads of his fingers across the lines of his palm—across the hand that had been in Hyojin’s grasp. (If he concentrates, he can feel the ghost of a rough hand engulfing his.)

His instincts, huh…

He wonders just what those are. With all his confusion, he’d forgotten what he really wants through all this—what he cherishes, more than anything; what he wants to preserve and protect. 

Sometimes a conscience is a heavy thing to have.

And Ari really wishes he had a different one, right about now. Maybe, if he were a different person, all of this wouldn’t be so difficult. Maybe he wouldn’t be here, at a nightclub in the city, at midnight, talking to a classmate about trivial things like love and regret.

Beside him, Maki throws his head back and gulps down the remnants of his drink, brows knitting together at the satisfying burn of it down his throat. “You’re thinking about this too hard, Ari.”

He blinks up at Maki, who’s staring at him, and raises a brow. “I’ve been told that by a few people.”

Maki makes a ‘hmph!’ noise, a wonky smile spreading his features. “Maybe you should listen sometime.”

「 february 27 | tuesday | 1:00am 」

“—book you for a private show?”

Ari’s ears perk up at the question, piquing his interest as he strides up to the bar. There’s a person sitting on the barstool in front of him, a good space away, and in front of them, behind the bar—is Hyojin.

God, does Hyojin look handsome as he works.

Who would have thought that beneath all that scruffy hair and messy clothes… would be this? A man, an expert at his job, with customers wrapped around his pretty finger. There’s a certain charm to him, as he pours out drinks and socialises with the guests along the bar. Ari’s been watching him do it all night.

He’s standing half-behind one of the decorative dividers, now, still watching. It’s a little bit amazing—how good Hyojin is at his job. At oozing charisma out of his pores; at offering tooth-achingly sweet words with every breath. It doesn’t hurt that he looks like a bad idea wrapped in a pretty shawl, too.

Ari isn’t questioning why Hyojin had known just what buttons to push, all those times before. Not anymore. He’s got his answer.

The subject in question is currently serving up a martini with a hypnotic smile, dusty eyes hooking the customer’s attention. “A private show, huh? With me?” From where he stands, Ari can hear his voice was annoying clarity. It irritates him, slightly, that the sultry tones and seductive timbre of Hyojin’s voice is being used on this stranger.

He notes the feeling down as jealousy. 

And promptly shoves it away.

“Who else?” The customer’s voice is just as intimate as Hyojin’s, if not more. Reaching an elegant hand out, they wrap their fingers atop Hyojin’s on the stem of the glass, manicured nails trailing along pale skin. “Hm? Just us two, a dark room, some music? How’s that sound, darling?”

Ari feels his stomach tie into a knot.

It gets worse when Hyojin responds with that husky laugh of his; all temptation and charm. “Well,” he hums, “you make a compelling argument. But I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.” He pulls his hand away, pushing some space between them again. Then he smiles—though it comes off more as a smirk than anything—and adds, “I’m taken.”

Ari furrows his brow at that.

They’re not even remotely at school. Maki and Jaime have left—no one in the vicinity even looks remotely like a student.

Logically, this would pose as a perfect opportunity for someone like Hyojin to take. 

So why…

“Earth to prez?” He’s taken aback when a knuckle pokes his temple, and he looks to his side to see a perfectly idle Hyojin Carys, raising a brow up at him. He didn’t even notice he was zoning out for that long.

“Ah— I was just—”

“Staring at me?” Hyojin chuckles, fingers fiddling with the chain around his waist. At the sight of Ari’s ears going red, Hyojin tilts his head, thoroughly amused. “Oh? What, were you supposed to be hiding it?”

The accusation makes the heat in Ari’s ears throb. He clears his throat, trying to pry his eyes away from all the glinting silver that threatens to catch his attention. “You, um. You… told that person that you were taken…”

Hyojin stares at him for a little, crimson-hued eyes dark in the dim amber lighting of the lounge. Then he shrugs. “Loose ends,” he offers, a casual air to his voice.

And Ari supposes that makes sense.

But he still wishes it had been for a different reason.

「 february 27 | tuesday | 1:47am 」

ASSTUTIAS 👩👩👦

Son

Just made it back to the apartment

It’s almost 2am…

Father

you two are alone

at Hyojins apt

at 2am

Son

That is what I just said yes

Father

this is the part where i tell you to use protection

Son

Ma.

Father

LOL

Holy Spirit

Are you alright to drive home, ari?

It’s pretty late. Not sure how I feel about the roads 😕

Son

That’s why I texted actually

He offered for me to just stay over for the night

Was just confirming if that’s okay?

Father

…see above message about protection.

Son

We’re not going to do anything ma

Father

just in case ari!! you never know

Son

:|

Holy Spirit

That’s a good idea, for you to stay over!

As long as you’re both alright and happy 🤗🤗

Son

Should be! :)

My car is here, so I’ll drive home tomorrow morning

Holy Spirit

You’ve got house keys, right?

Son

Yeah

Holy Spirit

👌

Father

aya youre seriously not gonna mention anything about your
teenage son being alone with the object of his affection
late at night in an apt where theyre alone ????

Holy Spirit

I really don’t think anything is going to happen, Minnie!

Son

Thank you mom

Holy Spirit

But do be safe if anything does 😊

Son

MOM

「 february 27 | tuesday | 2:32am 」

Hyojin isn’t quite sure what he was thinking when he offered up his home for Ari’s shelter for the night, but it probably wasn’t anything rational. (Which is, admittedly, very on-brand of him.)

The president, after a few minutes of convincing, had agreed to stay—he contacted his parents, took a shower, and was doing god-knows-what now in Hyojin’s living area while the latter is here, in a room of steam, with a fresh body and face.

‘In front of the bathroom mirror’ probably isn’t the best place to be contemplating life decisions, but it’s all he’s got right now. He’s got Ari Astutia in his apartment, new uncharted emotions, and a mind that might land him a restraining order. 

This—whatever he’s got going on with Ari—is messy. He acknowledges that. He doesn’t know how he’s going to play this, nor how to navigate it into something serious.

Because, apparently, that’s what he wants now. With Ari. Something serious. (Which threw him for a loop, he won’t lie, but he’s over that initial shock.) He doesn’t even know if that’s what Ari wants—Hyojin hasn’t a fucking clue about romance or commitment or anything a guy like the president is probably looking for.

Hell, the guy’s probably looking for someone who’s as picture-perfect as he is. Someone who isn’t currently suspended from school for hog-tying a student on the ground.

And listen—Hyojin isn’t insecure about his ability to woo a man, not at all, but when it comes to Ari?

Well, that’s where things get complicated.

That’s where things start having to make logical sense; when Hyojin has to start thinking about more than an unforgettable night. He has to make a whole fucking flowchart and diagram for this, and By God, is he a little pissed about it.

Because honestly, what’s stopping him from just walking out of this bathroom, dragging the president in by his stupidly perfect waist, and replacing all these thoughts with pleasure instead?

(There’s probably a good long list of reasons, but he’s choosing to ignore that.)

So he saunters out of the bedroom-half of the house, still drying his hair with a towel, and is met with the sight of…

Ari watering his plants.

He’s got a glass of water in his hand, and he’s crouched by the pots against the balcony door—smiling down at the leaves, and murmuring to himself as he pours out little dashes of water into the soil. Hyojin had given him one of his oversized shirts and sweats to wear, but they fit perfectly well on his lean frame—maybe a size too small, if you really push it.

That brown hair, usually styled and combed to hallway perfection, has dried into soft strands across his forehead, just above his eyes—a lot longer than Hyojin had expected it to be. And he’s got that soft smile of his… the one that Hyojin doesn’t even see that often. The raw, innocent, unfiltered joy of a boy.

Hyojin scoffs at himself; at the feeling in his chest. Curse this brain of his and liking it when tall blushy nerds with strong jawlines and faint freckles make his apartment feel like a home.

He must have scoffed louder than he’d meant to, because one second Ari is running his finger along a leaf stem, and the next he’s standing up at his full height, head turned to stare at the owner of the apartment.

Somehow bashful, he rubs the back of his neck, averting his gaze from Hyojin’s stare. “You’ve got a lot of… plants.” It’s not the greatest conversation starter, but neither of them are complaining. “Do they mean anything?”

Hyojin hums as he makes his way over, throwing the towel in his hand over his shoulder. “Not really. Just collected them over time.”

When he gets to the space beside Ari, he hears a clearing throat. “Do you…” The hesitation in his voice is a little amusing, he’ll admit. “Do you always… walk around shirtless…?”

It triggers a laugh, and Hyojin finds himself thinking about stupid things like how adorable the president is. “I live alone, and this is my apartment, so yes,” he answers, tucking his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and lazily smiling up at his companion. “Why? Does it bother you?”

He pretends not to notice how Ari’s sight catches—for a split second—on the ink of his stomach. “No,” he breathes out, eyes firmly concentrated on the wall behind Hyojin’s head, “it’s fine.”

Hyojin clicks his tongue, strolling over to his kitchen on the other side of the space to make himself a coffee. (Yes, at two in the morning. No rest for the wicked.)

He can feel Ari on his heel, probably following him out of sheer cluelessness on what else to do.

“Want tea, or something?” Hyojin offers, running a hand through still-damp locks. Thanks to the water, a majority of his fringe stays combed back, with a few stray strands falling back over his face.

And Ari’s too distracted to answer that yeah, he could go for a warm cup of tea right about now, because—well, partly because Hyojin is so goddamned pretty that Ari is about to lose his mind, but mainly because of the unmistakable bruise on that ethereal face.

It’s a red mark, mixed with purple and some nasty blue, sitting high on Hyojin’s left cheekbone, near the outer corner of his eye. It could look like some sort of makeup look, if you chose to ignore the redness of his sclera. “It left a mark,” Ari lets slip out of his mouth. 

Hyojin gives him a face—like confusion and audacity all wrapped into a raised brow. “Yeah,” he chuckles, dismissing the puppy-eyes Ari is giving him in lieu of getting a teabag and a packet of instant coffee. “That usually happens when you get punched.”

With the click of the electric kettle, Hyojin hears the president speak up from behind him—with a voice so quiet, he could swear it was domestic. “The fight. You… um…”

For the sake of his sanity and pride, Hyojin doesn’t turn around to look at the guy. He just stares down at the two plain black mugs in front of him.

Ari taps his fingers against the marble bench separating them, nerves getting the better of him. The question he wants to ask could land him in a world of embarrassment… but if he shies away from this, he’s a coward.

“Did you get into that fight,” he pushes out, “to defend me?”

For a moment, there isn’t an answer. Just the sound of water boiling in a kettle. And then—“Probably.”

He’s not sure how to feel about that answer.

“I just acted on impulse,” Hyojin continues, with a shrug of one shoulder. It’s half-true. He most likely did, he thinks, but it makes sense now that Ari brings it up. It’d pissed him off that Ben was saying all that shit about a guy who didn’t deserve it.

Ari’s only crime was associating with Hyojin, after all. Why should he be dragged down to Hyojin’s level just for that?

He’s pouring water into the mugs when Ari shows up by his side, shuffling up to him. A delusional part of him thinks the president might just wrap his arms around his frame from behind. (But the logical part of him knows it’d probably take a couple shots of strong alcohol to make Mr Bashful do anything as scandalous as a hug.)

“Thank you, Carys.”

The tone with which he says it isn’t anything new for them; it’s a tone that Ari has let slip before, in lone moments in the council room, or in the car together, or when he’s half-asleep in the mornings. That soft tone—soft, and sincere, and something that could take apart an entire empire if he used it right.

Hyojin just exhales out of his nose, sliding the mug of tea over. “Earl Grey,” he says. “You know where the sugar and milk is.”

And with that, he grabs his coffee, and walks into his room.

「 february 27 | tuesday | 4:00am 」

The last thing he’s expecting is a knock on his bedroom door.

It’s not like he was going to sleep—it’s not really a night for that—but he thought that Ari would at least have passed out on the couch by now. (Surely the guy must have some sort of bedtime, right?)

But maybe he needs to piss. Maybe he broke something. Or maybe he had a nightmare and wants to cuddle.

Hyojin wouldn’t necessarily turn down that last one…

He opens the door. And there the president stands, looking small despite his frame, averting his gaze and holding a first-aid kit. It rattles when he holds it up, like a peace offering to a deity that might kill him. 

“For the… bruise,” he offers, biting the skin off his bottom lip. “Can I…?”

And so, here they are: sitting on the edge of Hyojin’s bed — in the exact same spot Hyojin had made the president moan that one time—while Ari gently spreads some ointment on his cheekbone.

They haven’t exchanged words in a good few minutes, but neither of them mind. There’s something beautiful about it; about spending time in silence for once—escaping the mayhem of all the trouble they’ve caused.

Under normal circumstances, Hyojin would have taken this situation and flipped it on its head a long while ago. But the shameful part of him is enjoying the feeling of Ari taking care of him. So he sits there, staring at the soft lines of the president’s face, as he pretends like his wound needs the attention it’s being given.

Concentration is a really good look on the guy, he thinks. When his brows relax, and they curve slightly, rather than arch. When he stops biting his lip, and lets his mouth fall open just the tiniest bit.

He realises that he’s never really looked at anyone like this before, let alone his dates. His first clue probably should’ve been that damned list he has in his head about Ari’s expressions.

“Lie down,” Ari says. 

And maybe because it’s been a long night, or maybe it’s the sincerity in Ari’s voice, or maybe he really is just an idiot in love, but Hyojin obeys without a word. Not a pipe out of him—not even an intake of breath for a teasing comment.

He even keeps his mouth shut when Ari puts some eyedrops in his red eye; as gentle as his hands had been tying Hyojin’s tie, however long ago on that January day. 

(Hyojin deserves a medal for this.)

Closing his eyes afterwards and letting the medicine settle, Hyojin can’t help but smile at the feeling of Ari shifting on the bed. His weight makes the mattress dip down a little on Hyojin’s side, his small movements disturbing the sheets underneath their limbs.

It’s probably high time he said it, he thinks, but Hyojin eventually gives in and mumbles out, “Thanks, prez.”

A thanks is already a rare enough encounter with Hyojin Carys—a genuine one, on top of that, could very well blow a man’s mind.

But not Ari’s.

Not anymore.

Instead of contemplating on whether the words ring true, Ari takes the gratitude with a spoonful of adoration, and embraces the feeling of his heart dancing across his skin. He almost doesn’t notice Hyojin’s eyes opening, staring at him, admiring the smile in brown eyes.

They’re closed as quickly as they’d opened. (Ari’s not complaining. Hyojin is beyond handsome either way.)

Despite himself and his shame, Hyojin takes that face of Ari’s he’d seen for a split second and shoves it into the ranks of his Top Ten.

Maybe even the Top Five.

It’s somewhere above ‘when he nearly fell asleep leaning on his fist and his cheek was all squished’ and below ‘when I pressed his Venus dimples and he absolutely just fucking melted into me’. 

He keeps his thoughts well-hidden, opting to cover up his imagination with another travelling thought of his. “I really like that smile of yours,” he says, almost out of nowhere.

A small huff of a laugh flows out of Ari in response to the compliment, a little unsure of what to do with himself. “I smile all the time, Carys.”

“Not honestly,” Hyojin argues. “Not like right now. You always force one, at school, in front of everyone else.”

With his hands resting between his bracketed legs, Ari fiddles with his own fingers. “You… noticed that?” It’s both a question and a statement, all wrapped into uncertainty.

“Noticed it enough to get pissed off by it.” The bed shifts under their bodies as Hyojin stretches an arm out and shoves it behind his head, propping himself up to look at the increasingly-reddening ears of the president. “Those shitheads really think they know you. They’re delusional.”

It’s strange to find such a sentence sweet, but Ari does.

He finds himself smiling in the afterglow, somehow finding the courage to take a leap of faith and drape his hand over Hyojin’s, lying on the bed right between them. 

“Are you claiming to be different?” Something lighthearted, to ease the heart beating out of his chest.

Hyojin glances down at Ari’s hand laid over his, and does something Ari never expected him to do. He turns his hand over, and threads their fingers together—all with a half-smile on his face. “I’d like to think I am.”

Basking in the atmospheric lighting of Hyojin’s bedside lamp, Ari takes a moment to breathe; to still his aching chest. “You are.” As the words leave his mouth, his fingers flex unconsciously, squeezing their palms together. 

Hyojin can’t help himself from sitting upright at that, leaning into Ari’s proximity, dissipating any lingering space separating them.

(The man’s only got himself to blame.)

“Oh yeah?” Using a tone that guarantees him regular customers, Hyojin tilts his head and stares up at the president through long lashes. He’s not above using tricks. “How special, prez?”

When Ari’s response is a gentle brush of Hyojin’s fringe to the side, both of them are taken by pleasant surprise. But, expert as he is, Hyojin doesn’t falter—he simply leans into the touch, closing the gap between them inch by insufferable inch.

He hums his way through a humorless laugh, all too aware of the late hour, the drunken air, and the grip of Ari’s fingers. “You’re handsy tonight,” he comments. “Have you finally lost your mind?”

Though it’s difficult to see in the shadows, Hyojin is hyper-aware of the way Ari’s fingers brush against his cheek; of the way his Adam's apple bobs with a gulp… of the way his eyes seem to flutter. His voice is hushed and hoarse and raw, when he murmurs out, “Maybe.”

That’s all the warning Hyojin gets before Ari kisses him.

Ari kisses him.

And it’s everything he ever could’ve wanted out of the guy. Everything, plus some more. It’s hesitant, and pure blushing-schoolboy-esque, and nothing more than a pair of lips pressed together.

But this is Ari’s version of a passionate kiss in the heated moment of a late night, and he initiated—so, hey, who is Hyojin to give up this chance of a lifetime?

He doesn’t know if Ari is too far gone because of lack of sleep, or if it’s something else entirely, but he doesn’t care. He can’t even bothered to try and care—not when all he has to do is sit there, smiling at the innocent efforts of the president against his lips, enjoying the audacity of it all.

And as it turns out, that ‘practice’ of theirs wasn’t for naught. (Which, honestly, comes as a surprise to Hyojin. Who knew Ari would actually take that whole experience-talk seriously?)

Ari, in a surge of power that he couldn’t possibly name the origin of, has a broad hand grasping the side of Hyojin’s neck before he even knows what he’s doing; almost pulling their bodies closer together, if it were possible.

And even though it’s messily chaste, and much too tame for Hyojin’s taste, he’s not sinful enough to ignore the rhythm of their bodies—a rhythm that Ari has set, astoundingly.

A cautious hand embracing an entire half of his neck, a thumb under his jaw, the pads of gentle fingers along his nape, and a palm engulfing the in-between. Warm lips against his, chapped and dry and painfully inexperienced. Flexes of long fingers between his, squeezing his hand with pathetic desperation.

It’s disgustingly domestic, and horrendously too real for what they actually are—or what they’re claiming to be. But they both leave it unspoken. Perhaps for their own sanity; perhaps for their own selfish, naive, indulgent foolishness.

And Hyojin thinks that, while this is nice and dandy, it’s a bit too dreamy for him. 

So he pushes back.

Just a little.

With his free hand, he feels his way over the sheets onto the fabric of the president’s sweats; letting his hand fall onto a thigh.

It doesn’t get much of a reaction, besides some more pushing and pulling from Ari’s end. So Hyojin does what he knows best: he dives in, head-first; lolls his tongue out just enough to make contact with those chapped and bitten lips.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to relish in the feeling for long, because the moment he feels teeth, he’s reprieved of everything all at once as Ari pulls back, apparently surprised by the intrusion.

When he’s no longer got Hyojin’s lips on his own, all of Ari’s senses come flooding back to him in a rush of shameful clarity and immoral imagination.

Hyojin is, suffice to say, disappointed as fuck.

He was riding on the hope that whatever the hell this was, it wasn’t just a stupid, four-in-the-morning ‘mistake’ on Ari’s part.

He was hoping it could’ve been… more.

Or something.

Whatever.

As Ari stammers on muted words, making eye contact with everything but the guy he just kissed, Hyojin just lets out an exhale made out of relief, exasperation, horny homosexuality—all of the above—and falls back onto his pillow.

After what feels like an excruciatingly dragged-out time of silence, in which Hyojin finds himself entirely too thankful that his lower body is hidden under his sheets, Ari mumbles out, “We should… get some sleep.”

Not like Hyojin was planning on it in the first place, but he’s definitely not sleeping tonight. He lifts his head just enough to see the president still sitting on the side of his mattress. “Stay here,” he mutters, tilting his head to rest comfortably on the pillow. “The bed’s big enough for two.”

It’s fascinating that Ari’s blush is so vibrant, it trumps the shadows of Hyojin’s room. “That’s— I’m… quite alright on… on the couch.”

“Aw, c’mon, prez,” Hyojin chuckles, too much of a bastard to let the night end like this. “I won’t bite—promise.” His right hand is still lying close to Ari’s, though they’re disconnected now, and he inches closer—letting the ghost of his pinky finger hover over the president’s. “Unless you want me to.”

The sentence plunges Ari back to a heated moment on this very bed, where he’d lost his inhibitions, and where he learnt the feeling of Hyojin Carys’ hands on his body. Something starts churning in his gut; though he can’t place the name of the feeling. “I—”

To add insult to injury, Hyojin takes the chance to lean in, causing Ari’s breath to hitch into his throat as the space between them threatens to disappear again. Dragging his fingers along Ari’s arm in the most agonisingly electric way he knows how, Hyojin lets his lips spread into a grin. “Hmm?”

Ari jolts back at record speed, almost falling off the bed and onto the floor in the process—he saves himself by tripping up onto his feet, hands shooting up in defence. “I’m— Um… I just…” He stammers on his words as Hyojin raises a brow, leaning comfortably back onto his headboard.

That’s the problem, Ari thinks. That he’s here, waving his hands around and stumbling on his words like a bumbling idiot—but Hyojin is simply there, without a care in the world, all damningly handsome in nonchalance.

“I’ll… sleep on the- the couch,” he chokes out, ignoring the ache of his furrowed brows as he all but sprints to the door.

With a tight grip on the handle, he glances over his shoulder one last time—a traitor to his own brain. Hyojin is lying there, arms crossed over a bare chest, wonky smile plastered on his features. 

Ari gulps. “Goodnight.”

The door clicks shut.

| A.A. |

Hi, journal. Well, technically—hi, notes app on my phone.

I’m at Hyojin’s tonight, so I don’t have my journal with me. I figured this was the next best thing. I just… need somewhere to jot down all my thoughts.

It’s been an intense last few hours. I got into a fight this morning. (Can you believe it?) And I was called into Principal Adithan's office for a talk regarding it. He’s still as nice as ever. As it turns out, Hyojin has a week-long suspension due to the fight.

I paid him a visit after school. I suppose one thing led to another, and… I ended up at Archambeau. Which is where he works. And I talked to Maki Hino about love troubles. Now I’m spending the night on Hyojin’s couch, and I’m still awake at 4am. And we kissed again. I initiated it. He joked about sleeping together.

…I think I’ve had enough surprises to last me a month. Unpredictability has never been a favourite of mine. Besides Hyojin, apparently… that man is unpredictability personified. 

Maybe it’s that thing mom and ma were telling me about—that he’s what they’ve been telling me I’ve been missing. My ‘other half’, as cliche as it sounds. Something to look forward to, other than the mundane. (And with him, nothing is ever mundane, is it?)

At this point, I don’t need any more convincing, nor contemplating. No more brooding and existential crises. I’m foolishly in love with him.

I still don’t know what I’m going to do about that.

Everything in my system is screaming at me to shove it down; push it away; keep it at the back of my throat for all eternity, or until it disintegrates by itself. Because as compelling as Hyojin Carys is… who knows what’s on that mind of his? How can I risk what we have, in the off chance that he’ll live up to my fantasies of him?

For all I know—and for all that I’m almost certain about—all of this is still just a game to him. All of me is still just a game to him. How am I any different to that person at the bar, besides the fact that I have a running facade with the man? A facade that he didn’t even want to be part of—a facade that I practically forced on him?

I say I know that Hyojin is having fun toying with me, but I’m not even sure about that. Who’s to say he isn’t just sick of me; isn’t just hanging around for a few laughs? Who’s to say he won’t disregard me and our entire relationship, the moment I reveal that I let the game spoil me too much, and now I’m attached? With a guy like him… is it worth the risk?

I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to lose him. I think that’s a level of selfishness I’m allowed.  It’s all much too complicated—and try as I might, but I just can’t ‘go with the flow’. I thought that talk with mom and ma helped, and it did at first, but I can’t seem to shake it all off.

How does anyone ever deal with love? 

Or maybe Hyojin and I are a special case. Maybe we’re too complex. Too far gone to save. (Listen to me—I’m talking about this like it’s a relationship that actually had a beginning. This is downright depressing.)

I wish I could say I’m going to sleep this off. But I’m supposed to be waking up in about 2 hours. So I suppose I’m spending another night lying awake in a pitiful bubble of my own misery.

How poetically homosexual of me.

But at this point, I’m just going to accept it, and wallow. Maybe in a few minutes, the voice in my head will stop telling me that the probability of Hyojin liking me back is as likely as Luce confessing to Amir. Practically zero.

| H.C. |

so apparently i like the guy

or love

ig

ik thats the word i thought of earlier tonight

its a weird thing to think about

loving someone, i mean. let alone the prez

no offence to him, but hes definitely not who i thought would be the first person i want to date

which is still a weird fucking concept to me

dating the prez just sounds like smth out of a cheesy romance book. but im fucking here now so ig i cant do anything about it

am i supposed to bring him flowers and teddy bears now? cook him breakfast? stand outside his house with a boombox?

having experience in dating would really fucking help rn.

but idk 

hes just so different to all the others

i want him to stay

yk?

and i want to stay with him too

more than a few nights

.

fuck

guess i really like him.

dunno how im gonna go about this shit tho

hes still hesitant around me

ik that much

just dont know if hes hesitant about me as a person or about whatever messy ass relationship we have. hesitant about it getting deeper than its supposed to

even tho its already well fucking past whatever we were in the beginning

fake my ass

eh. ig i wont worry about it 

ill do what my gut is telling me to. when prez wakes up im gonna sit him down and kiss him until he sees fucking stars

and then maybe we could turn this into a real thing.

[to be continued...]

Chapter Text

「 february 27 | tuesday | 6:29am 」

It’s a little surreal to be in your kitchen, pouring two cups of instant coffee, as your crush and the student president of your school lies on the couch a few feet away from you, soundly asleep.

But Hyojin decides not to think about it too hard. His life has been all sorts of interesting lately; this definitely isn’t the weirdest thing to happen to him.

It is, however, the first time he’s found it adorable to hear someone snore. Who knew breathing difficulties could be endearing?

He’ll be honest—he wasn’t expecting to be the first one up and about. When he walked out of his room ten minutes ago, he was sure he’d be greeted by either a disgustingly domestic president making him breakfast, or an empty apartment.

As he pours and stirs milk into Ari’s mug (he’d learnt the hard way that the president, A, likes his coffee with so much milk it could legally be called a cracker as an insult, and B, will lie about said coffee preference in lieu of suffering by the hands of bitter espresso), he hears the faint sound of an alarm go off near the sleeping body.

With no impulse control in him, he strolls on over, finding Ari’s phone lying on the coffee table with a portable charger connected to it. The screen is lit up with the alarm ‘Tia Brekkie 😸🍖’—which Hyojin would find objectively adorable, if he wasn’t filled with an overwhelming urge to throw the phone at Ari’s face.

Because, seriously, who in their right fucking mind has the default sound as their alarm? What kind of manic, out-of-touch, psychopathic twat would do that to themselves?

But the violent urge dissipates when he turns and is met with the sight of the president.

It’s criminal, how handsome he looks while sleeping.

He looks handsome all the time—he’s Ari for fuck’s sake—but Hyojin has some strange guilty pleasure in seeing his sleeping face. His smooth tan skin, with a few red lines from the couch pillow, and his slightly-open mouth, and the faint freckles on his cheeks…

(No wonder Hyojin’s lock screen is what it is.)

There’s a weird enhancement to it, this morning—with his light brown hair down and messy and au natural. It’s thick, and somewhat curlier than it looks when styled, and it falls over his eyes in pretty waves.

He sort of understands, now. All those Valentine’s gifts in Ari’s locker. All the confessions Ari’s had to navigate through. All the comments he’d heard about the president from students in the hallways, even before they officially met.

He gets it.

A strand of brown has made a home on his nose, the ends of it fluttering with every exhale. Hyojin, with a brain made of jello and homosexuality, reaches out for it—brushing it to the side with cautious fingers.

Those long lashes flutter at the intrusion, eyelids twitching ever so slightly with the threat of consciousness.

Hyojin pulls his hand back.

(He’ll be caught doing a thousand criminal offences before he’s caught tenderly brushing the president’s hair away from his face.)

By the time he’s returned to the kitchen and thrown the spoon haphazardly into the sink, Ari is stirring and—very tiredly—sitting up on the couch. And yeah, Hyojin thinks Ari’s sleeping face is adorable, but his half-awake face might be even more so. 

His eyes are all squinty, half-closed and probably the closest thing to bedroom-eyes Hyojin will ever get from the man; his hair is tousled and messy, and he makes it even worse as he scratches the back of his head, tangling his fingers into curls. (He’s got a flat spot on the left of his crown—probably from the couch); the t-shirt he borrowed has shifted to the side, exposing his bare collarbone.

Hyojin remembers licking that collarbone.

A few grumbles escape the president’s lips, before he shakes his head like a dog and seemingly wakes up a tad bit more. “G’mornin’, Carys,” he mumbles out, eyes still taking a full second to blink. 

This is the first time Hyojin has ever heard Ari slur his words; speak like he’s not got an entire thesaurus shoved up his ass. It’s cute.

He takes the two mugs and saunters over, offering Ari’s colonised coffee to him with an air of nonchalance. “Drink,” Hyojin says. “You need to wake up.”

Because I need you to be awake enough to kiss.

Yeah, Hyojin isn’t above kissing Ari before he’s brushed his teeth. He’s kissed mouths filthier than this before—he truly doesn’t give a shit. (He thought the same thing when he tasted garlic during their first kiss.)

Accepting the mug with both hands in a way that makes him look way too small for his actual size, Ari lets the warmth of the coffee wake his hands up—and when he’s done that, he takes a careful sip, like a kitten hesitant on the taste of milk.

Hyojin leans on the arm of his couch, totally not watching Ari’s every move, gulping down his own coffee.

The president sounds like he’s still half-asleep when he mumbles against ceramic, “It’s like you’re actually my boyfriend.”

A brief memory passes through Hyojin’s mind, of avocado on toast and a moment when he thought the exact same thing. Only back then, he’d found it amusingly pathetic.

And now…

Now, he just smiles. “Mm,” he grunts, hiding his smile against his mug. “Might as well be.”

He hopes the statement spurs on a talk about ‘hey, we’re already fucking here, might as well slap an official name on it and make out, right?’ and maybe that infamous red flush on the president’s cheeks, but instead, when he glances over, he gets a blank stare from him.

It’s a half a second too long to be comfortable, Ari just staring at him, with neutrality in his eyes—maybe something else, Hyojin can’t tell—before Ari mutters out, “But you’re not.”

Hyojin pauses.

He doesn’t like the finality in Ari’s voice. That stupidly egotistical confidence that accompanies his words—when he’s enforcing rules in the hallways, or answering questions in classes, or delivering speeches in the hall.

How is this something to be sure about?

“I’m sorry for pulling you into all this,” Ari continues, staring into his coffee, now, almost taunting. “I know it’s probably not how you wanted to spend your senior year—pretending to be in a relationship, instead of seeking a real one out.”

Hyojin doesn’t know how he expected this type of conversation to go, but it definitely wasn’t like this. No, this—this feels like a garbage can of mouldy food in the pouring fucking rain. And, really, it can only get worse from here, knowing his godforsaken luck.

“I didn’t get any confessions yesterday,” Ari continues, like this is the topic of conversation he’d rather fucking be on at six in the morning, in Hyojin’s apartment, wearing Hyojin’s clothes. “So our… arrangement, is… it’s working.”

The worst thing about all this, Hyojin thinks, is how pretty Ari looks while he spits out his poison. Like a siren guaranteed her catch of the evening: a foolish sailor who made the stupid decision to lean over the edge of the ship; to crave more than he was given.

So what if the arrangement is working?

Who gives a single flying fuck about a fucking arrangement?

“Pre—”

“And if it’s working, and it all goes according to plan, I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.” He’s got that tight smile on his lips—the one that doesn’t reach his eyes; not even his cheeks. It hurts Hyojin more than any punch from Ben could. “I promise this fake relationship of ours won’t last too long.”

That’s a funny sentence, isn’t it?

‘This fake relationship won’t last long.’ 

Hyojin was convinced that, with the way that they were going before this horrid morning, that statement was about to be as true as Hyojin is queer. Only, in Hyojin’s idiotic beliefs, it wasn’t going last long… because they’d be real.

Real real.

Is that not what Ari wanted too? Is that not what every single fucking thing they’ve gone through was hinting towards? Did Hyojin just completely skip the part where all of Ari’s not-so-secret glances and smiles and flushes were supposed to mean nothing?

Ari is still sitting on his couch, sipping on coffee like he hasn’t just ripped Hyojin’s foolish beating heart out of his chest and run it through a paper shredder.

And Hyojin is pissed. He’s mad—at Ari.

He didn’t know he could get mad at Ari.

A few blissful minutes ago, he was locked and loaded, ready to pounce onto the man with kisses along lean muscles. Ready to act like whatever this is of theirs, was a real thing. But now—now, his knuckles start to ache. The bruise on his cheek, which had been caressed and tended to a mere few hours ago… it starts to burn.

He could yell at the guy—about stupidity, and infuriation, and irritation. He could grab him by the collar and shove a finger into his forehead to drive the point home.

He does none of the above.

Instead, he stands up, and looks at Ari—really looks at him. Takes in the smooth arch of his brow; the skin of his bottom lip held between white teeth; the brown eyes that refuse to look away from the bottom of the mug in his hands.

Confrontation is a terrifying thing, he’s sure.

But so is lying straight through your fucking teeth.

“Okay.”

And that’s the end of that.

「 february 27 | tuesday | 7:22am 」

When Ari gets home, he’s greeted by his moms at the table, wide grins on their faces disappearing when they see their son shuffle into the room with a face as pale as a ghost.

Without a word, Aissatou pulls her son into her arms, cradling him just like she did back when he could fit in her arms. Ari leans down into the embrace, two nights of sleeplessness catching up to him.

Minerva offers a glass of water, and a pat on his head. “You can stay home today, if you want,” she says under her breath, trying her best to keep the silence intact.

Ari shakes his head. And then he lets go of his mom, and drags his feet up the stairs to his room.

With the sight of her son’s slumping shoulders, Aissatou bumps her head against Minerva’s, leaving it there. Minerva wraps an arm around her wife’s waist, sighing against the touch.

“Should we do something?” Aissatou mumbles, completely unsure of herself.

“Leave it to him.” Minerva turns her head and presses a kiss against Aissatou’s cheek, adding two taps of her hand against a hip. “He’ll come to us if he needs it.”

| A.A. |

He really doesn’t care. He really doesn’t. It hurts to know. I’d braced myself for it, even wrote a few paragraphs on the damn concept. Some part of me has always known. But it still hurts.

| H.C. |

congrats, me

your ‘first love’ or whatever?

turns out its as much a mess as everything fucking else in your sad excuse of a life.

guess all that ‘look of love’ stuff jaime was saying was complete horseshit.

shouldve known.

「 february 27 | tuesday | 8:25am 」

Ari is well aware that his coping mechanism probably isn’t the healthiest. But it works. And it gets his mind off of things, and he really needs a distraction.

Like, really needs one.

Otherwise he might break down and start sobbing into Lucio’s arms again, except this time he won’t be able to pin the moment on an excuse like, ‘I thought about Carl and Ellie from Up again’.

So he’s here now, strolling through the hallways and making small talk with any students willing, offering advice on trivial matters like how to format an assignment and how to join the swim team.

He thinks he’s doing a good job acting like he’s fine and dandy. It’s always been an ironic thing, his talent for acting. But for a student president, he reckons it comes with the job description—always be fine. Always be at the top of your game. Always be the pinnacle of perfection.

“First day of being lonely,” a voice bursts out from behind Ari while he’s talking to a group of sophomores, swinging an arm around the president’s neck. “How’s it treating you?”

Ari is sure Jaime means nothing malicious with the comment, but it still stings. He smiles, though. And laughs. Sheepishly, and bashfully, to add a mirage of innocence. “I’m heartbroken, Jaime,” he chuckles, seemingly joking. “I miss him already.”

“It’s true, then?” One of the sophomores asks, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Hyojin was suspended?”

Ari nods, his neck still trapped in Jaime’s embrace. “A week suspension, for starting a fight.”

“Ugh, that’s so shitty,” a different sophomore voices, rolling their eyes at the same speed of their fingers twirling their hair. 

Another student makes their agreement vocal, pausing their chewing of gum to add, “Right? Like, why isn’t Ben suspended? Or expelled—he’s such a douche, I don’t know how he’s still here.”

“Daddy’s money, probably,” the first student comments, giggling behind their hand.

“Hyojin did the world a favour, honest to god. Hey, Ari, next time you talk to him, can you tell him that?”

The still-beating part of his heart swells at the concept of it—of students talking about Hyojin just like he’s Hyojin, and not some mystical being that will come to haunt their sleep if they misbehave. 

Students being on Hyojin’s side .

“Sure,” Ari replies, masking his shock and depression all at once. He’ll tell Hyojin all of this, at some point. He’s sure of it.

He just doesn’t know when they’ll talk again. Not after this morning; not after how awkward it feels, now, to approach the guy when Ari gets a painful reminder, every time he looks at him, that he’s nothing more than a stepping stone in Hyojin’s life.

A fun little side-quest.

“Ari?”

Ari blinks. The group is staring at him, an audience awaiting a speech, and his mind blanks. “Hm?”

One of them looks at him a little weird, like they’re pitying a bird that just flew into a window. “Do you miss him?” they repeat.

“Oh.”

Yes.

Yes, of course he does.

He misses feeling like Hyojin was the beginning of something new.

He misses being blind to the realities of a man he thought he knew. 

He misses being a fool.

“Well, it’s only a week,” he says, accompanying the words with a chuckle that scratches his throat in ways it shouldn’t. “Not like I’ll never see him again.”

「 february 28 | wednesday | 3:35pm 」

If you asked Ari what the hell he’s doing, he really wouldn’t be able to give you an answer.

Mostly because you probably know more than he does, at this point. On where he sits in the world. On what the fuck his brain is doing to his body; leading him to places he has absolutely zero reasons to be at.

And, sure, he’s the school president, and it makes perfect sense for him to be in the student council room after school—but it doesn’t.

Because no one else is there. There’s no one waiting for him; no one conversing with him.

It’s just him, an empty room, and a heavy heart.

And a pair of tired eyes, traitorously magnetised to a window at the other side of the room. Open, to the field outside, and to the wind, and to any handsome delinquent with piercings and blind bravery. To any rule-breaker willing to break some rules and pay a visit.

Ari theorises, however, that the possibilities of that are… meek, at best.

But he can’t stop staring at it; he can’t stop waiting for a guest that won’t come. 

Longing is painful, he thinks.

Even more so when you have nothing to long for.

How sad a life it is, Ari concludes, the one he’s made himself. A president with a stack of paperwork beside him, and no resolve to review a single one. A president with an anchor of responsibility on his ankle, and no motive to unshackle himself.

Wallowing in self-pity has never done anyone any good.

And yet.

Ari sighs, the motion rippling a shudder through his entire body as his eyes finally give and look away from an innocent windowpane. 

He doesn’t know what would have hurt more—knowing that Hyojin didn’t care, and waiting for some sort of sigh that he might still be willing to simply play along with an act… or foolishly believing he was enough to change Hyojin’s heart; enough to ignite the first flame.

It hurts him to blame himself.

It hurts twice as much to blame Hyojin.

He wonders if he can pin the blame on anything else.

For a few ticks of the clock, the room goes stale with the taste of regret and melancholy. For a few ticks of the clock, Ari stares at the pen rested against his hand, and the way it nestles against the callus of his middle finger. For a few ticks of the clock, Aphrodite herself watches with a keen eye, shaking her head in disbelief of what it has all come down to.

Ari reaches for the bookshelf behind him, and pulls out a journal. A journal with a scarlet hardcover, encasing hundreds of blank pages. He lays it out on the desk before him, flips past the first two pages of cream-coloured parchment, triple-clicks his pen, and—with one final glance to an empty windowsill—adds ink to the page.

There are so many things I wish I could say to you. 

Things I wish I had the courage to say.

I might never have that courage.

And for that, I am sorry.

I am so sorry.

He flips the page.

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

I’m in love with you.

「 february 28 | wednesday | 11:11pm 」

“Listen, I know your whole thing is mysterious-and-broody, but I think you might be being too broody right now,” is what Hyojin’s coworker tells him, a few hours into his shift.

He’s currently pouring out a cocktail for the customer down the bar, glaring down at the sparkly pink liquid like it’s just called him a slur. “Not a thing,” he replies curtly, garnishing the drink with a lemon slice and handing it off to a smiling blonde, who promptly tips and leaves.

“It’s a thing when it affects your customer service,” Isaac argues, plopping down on one of the cushioned barstools and resting his chin in his hands.

“Don’t you have guests to entertain?” Hyojin snarks back, shoving the tip money into a compartment under the bar. "Songs to perform?"

“My set finished already," he shrugs, before pouting at his coworker-slash-reluctant-friend. “C’mon, Jin. Aren’t you supposed to be the star bartender? You don’t look very starry to me.”

Hyojin busies himself with washing up as he humours Isaac with a stupid conversation. “Come off it, Zac.”

“Yeesh. Someone’s in a mood.”

So what if he is?

So what if prez has left him alone with his thoughts, without even a stupid little text or call or stupid cute gift basket? So what if prez has carved out whatever measly heart he had, and stomped his stupid fucking Oxfords all over it?

So what?

“Alright,” Isaac huffs, shaking his head like a dog, the unruly golden curls bouncy around. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

For a moment, Hyojin simply stares at him, face as bright as a sewerage system. Then he rolls his eyes, sucking on his bottom lip, a little irked by the lack of a ring hooked onto it. He hadn’t been bothered to go all-out tonight—a simple lace blouse under a leather blazer with just his default set of jewellery—and it'd gained a few comments from his regulars. 

But he’s really beyond giving a shit.

“Nothing,” he answers, then adds, “Everything.”

He wipes down the bar, then slaps down the towel in a fit. If his hair wasn’t tied back, he’d run his hand through the strands out of pure frustration.

“You ever feel murderous, Zac?”

A harsh and humane falls out of Isaac’s mouth as he shakes his head. “Probably not in the same explicit way you do, but sure. I’ve had my moments.”

“You ever, like, wanna grab someone by their fucking neck, and strangle an answer out of them, because they’re doing shit that doesn’t make fucking sense to you?” He’s holding his hand out, to the air, almost demonstrating the way he’d hold his palm against Ari’s stupidly pretty throat. He’d be rough, he thinks. Not enough to hurt. Maybe enough to invite tears, but not enough to hurt. (Or maybe he does want it to hurt. He’s still deciding.)

With slightly nervous eyes, Isaac glances around them, praying that no customer is hearing this abomination of a conversation. When he knows the coast is all-clear, he nods and settles in. “Mhm.”

“But, like,” Hyojin continues, madly wiping down a martini glass that’s already spotless, “you also wanna… brush their hair out of their face, and tell them they’re being stupid, make them a cup of tea with milk and two spoons of sugar, and kiss them until their lips go raw and numb?”

Isaac blinks.

Hyojin stares at him.

“Ah,” he says. “Relationship struggles, huh?”

“No. Yes. No. ” With a sigh, Hyojin places down the glass he’s holding, lest he break it in his fist and end up reimbursing it out-of-pocket. “I’m… thinking a lot,” he decides is the best way to phrase it, “and I’m not fucking used to doing that, so it’s ramping up my anxiety.”

“Thinking about Ari, are you?”

He glances up at Isaac from beneath furrowed brows, narrowing his eyes. “How do you know about Ari?”

“Word travels fast between staff,” he replies, with a grin.

Hyojin groans. “Bloss.”

Resigned to lounging against the bar, Isaac chuckles. “Yeah, that one’s on you. Telling Bloss means telling all of us. It’s a shame I wasn’t on that night; I would’ve loved to meet him.”

With a glance to the rest of the bar—characteristically quiet for a Wednesday night, and with no new customers to attend to—Hyojin distracts himself with whipping up a drink, brain working while his mouth does the talking. “You two would probably get along,” he scoffs, though not unkindly.

Isaac hums at the statement, twinkling eyes watching his coworker’s hands as they reach around the bar for ingredients. “So, what’s got you in such a choking-Ari mood?”

The sigh that falls out of him might as well have decompressed his lungs. “He’s… It’s complicated.”

“Oof,” Isaac replies, earning a sharp glare his way. “I mean… not-oof.”

He watches, more cautious of his comments now, as Hyojin pulls out the bar’s tea-brewing device, throwing in a few blue petals. “We just… we had a good thing going. It wasn’t really ideal, and it sure as fuck wasn’t perfect, but it was, like… enough. For me, at least.”

Hyojin realises, as he speaks, that it all sounds classically soap-opera-y, and way too serious than what he’d like it to come off as.

“And it seemed like he was really loving it, too. As far as I know.” Sure, the prez is great at hiding his true feelings to the student body, but he’s not great enough of an actor to fool Hyojin. Usually, he’s an open fucking book. And Hyojin has highlighters and sticky notes galore. 

So it pisses him off that, for once since the beginning of their little relationship, he has no fucking idea what Ari is thinking.

“But then he just…”

“Pulled the plug?”

Hyojin pours hot water onto the petals, watching as the liquid turns from clear to a deep blue. “Not really. We’re still… whatever the hell we are. But…” He sighs. He doesn’t usually talk about things like this. Feelings and emotions and love dilemmas. His vocabulary in the area is as limited as Ari’s is in the bedroom, god forbid.

And to make matters worse, just listen to what he’s complaining about. How the hell is he supposed to debate the ups and downs of a relationship as messy as his and Ari’s?

How the hell is he supposed to talk about it?

Isaac taps his fingers idly against the bar, chin in one hand and eyes focused on Hyojin’s hands. “Bloss was saying you guys looked pretty close, so, is this maybe, like… a new development?”

“We were close, alright,” Hyojin remarks, remembering a taunting kiss in the late hours of the night. A kiss that Ari initiated. “Things were fine before yesterday morning.”

“And what happened yesterday morning?”

Turning his back for a moment to retrieve a glass teacup, Hyojin shrugs. “He woke up. Started spouting shit. Lied to me about stuff.” He’s careful not to smash the cup into pieces when he places it onto the bar. “It pisses me off that I just don’t know why he was lying.”

“Sounds to me like he’s going through something,” Isaac suggests, offering anything resembling a new, unbiased perspective.

Hyojin rolls his eyes again, clicking his tongue. “Well, whatever he’s going through, he’s doing a shit job of communicating it.” He pours out the brewed tea into the ornate glass, pushing it across the bar.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to communicate it.” Isaac watches the bartender in front of him pour out a tiny amount of lemon juice into the bowl of a bar spoon, lean over, and tip it into the glass. Tendrils of pink swirl into the blue liquid, dancing together to create a beautiful deep purple that leaves him smiling. “Maybe he just needs someone to pull him through the situation. A light, at the end of his dark tunnel.”

Wiping down the spoon with a towel, Hyojin deadpans, “You want me to kill him.”

“No, you moron, I’m saying you should be an optimistic presence for him.” Even though he’s pouting, he happily takes the glass in front of him, sipping on the warm tea. “Rather than adding to his negativity by being negative yourself, maybe counteract it with positive stuff.”

Ha.

Positive stuff.

He’ll admit, though, the bullshit coming out of Isaac’s mouth makes… a little sense. Kudos to him, or whatever.

He’s still zero steps closer to understanding what’s going on in the president’s mind, but he supposes a good start would be doing what he does best:

Playing the game.

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

I'm holding you back.

I have you trapped.

Is it bad that I don't want to let you go?

「 february 29 | thursday | 9:30am 」

Ari’s jaw is starting to ache from all the clenching it’s been doing. If he doesn’t stop soon, he’s afraid his dentist will have a fit the next time he comes in. But, for now, the matter is off his mind—he’ll be doing all the jaw-clenching he likes, thank you very much.

And it comes in handy, he finds, as he strolls into the side-building of the office, its hallways dark and dismal with lack of use. Passing by a few rooms used purely for storage, he reaches the one room he’s looking for.

Detention.

The door is held open by a stopper, and he wastes no time in marching inside. Glancing around with a quick movement of his eyes, he sees the room set up in exam conditions of a classroom—desks all a few inches apart—and there, in the back corner, his target: Ben.

“Ari,” the supervisor, Mr Yun, greets. He sits up from behind the desk at the front of the room, pulling his attention away from the papers in front of him. “I don’t suppose you’re also here for in-school suspension?”

Ari puts on a kind face, fully aware of the way Ben’s glare remains on his side profile as he walks up to the teacher. “I might be, Sir. You never know.”

Mr Yun just laughs at him, gentle and friendly. “And your crime? Highlighting your pages too much?”

“If that were a crime, I would’ve been put into jail straight out of kindergarten,” he replies, tucking his hands into his pockets. Ben scoffs from where he sits, handing the game right to Ari all too easily. “But, no, I’m not here for detention.”

“Shame,” Mr Yun chortles, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’d love to see the day you do something worthy of disciplinary punishment.”

Ari shrugs. “Well, I did punch someone. If that counts for anything.”

“We’ve all punched someone once in our lives,” he retorts, with a wonky grin that makes his eyes twinkle. “What are you here for, then? Am I needed somewhere?”

“Oh, no, you’re fine.” Ari waves his hand dismissively, before turning half his attention on the boy across the room. “I’m just here to talk to the person I punched.”

Mr Yun looks between the two boys, hums, and then nods. Leaning back in his chair, he mumbles out under his breath, “Not to apologise to him, I hope.”

Like Ari would ever.

Ben watches with narrowed eyes as Ari walks over and pulls up a chair right in front of him. He scoffs, rolling his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class, like the uptight ass you are?”

“Being the president has its perks,” Ari shrugs, enough of a statement to both answer Ben’s question and fend off any similar snide remarks.

The response he gets is satisfying, in its own way. Ben just scoffs again, for lack of retort, and leans back into his chair with his arms crossed against his chest. Classic defensive move, if Ari’s knowledge of human behaviour is doing him any good. “Why are you here, Ari?” Ben sneers, glaring up at his president. “To rub it in my face that I’ve got detention? To punch me again?”

“No.” Though I’d be more than happy to partake in that last one. “I’m here because I’ve heard stories about you, Ben.”

“Oh, great,” he spits back, rolling his eyes. “Storytime with Ari, is it?”

“I’m more aware of what happens in the school hallways than you think I am,” Ari states, completely disregarding Ben’s remarks. “People confide in me—they tell me secrets; truths that could destroy a person.”

Ben groans. “Do you have a point, or is this a new torture technique? Listening to you ramble like a fucking Disney villain?”

With another clench of his jaw—his dentist is really going to hate him—Ari lays his hand on the desk between them, drawing Ben’s attention back to who really has control of the conversation. “You’ve been up to a bunch of shit in these hallways, Ben.”

That seems to shut him up.

“I know about you,” he says, voice low enough for just the both of them to hear. “I know about fights. I know about secret relationships.” He stares right into brown eyes, void of any decency. “I know about assault.”

He says that last one with the inflection of a question—but if there was ever any doubt about his information, the stutter in Ben’s eyes would’ve been enough of an answer.

“I’ve kept my mouth shut as per their wishes, not yours. Don’t make me break my oaths.” Ari keeps his voice low, and level. "I held incredibly low expectations for you,” he says, “and yet, somehow, you managed to weasel your way into something even lower. "

Ben doesn’t respond to the insult. He just sits there, breaking the eye contact that Ari is strong enough to hold. Funnily enough, the jaw-clenching seems contagious.

Leaning back in his chair, satisfied with the out-turn of the conversation, Ari narrows his eyes at the student sitting before him. “If you have a problem with Carys, take it up with me. See where it lands you.”

He knows it’ll piss Ben off if he acts nonchalant, so he has no hesitation in doing so—he tucks his hands in his pockets, and rests his leg atop the other. His mind screams at him to fix his posture, but for the sake of appearances, he pushes through. (It’s what Hyojin would do.)

“I could get you stuck with something much worse than in-school suspension,” he states, matter-of-factly. “So I suggest you start pulling your act together.”

Ben glares at him. He glares right back, holding up his defences through brown eyes. Ben breaks eye contact first—Ari smiles. And with that, he gets out of his seat, pushes it back under the desk, and fixes up his blazer. Ben’s watching him the entire time, with his mouth zipped shut and arms crossed over his chest.

When he gets to the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, Mr Yun is smiling at him. “You’re the pinnacle of presidency, Ari.”

Ari smiles back, handsome features soft with relief. “Honoured to hear it, Sir.”

Mr Yun hums, glancing at Ben from over his glasses. “We’ll see if your words got through to that one. He’s a stubborn guy.”

“Stubborn’s one word for him.”

With a sharp bark of laughter, Mr Yun’s handing Ari one of his infamous mint candies, before waving him off. “Off to class now, Mr President. You may have the top marks, but that doesn’t mean you should be skipping class.”

He takes the candy with a warm smile, chuckling at the sweet atmosphere around him. “Can’t promise it won’t happen again, Sir.”

“Maybe that Hyojin boy is a bad influence on you,” he comments, though it flows out of his mouth with laughter and kindness.

Ari exhales through his nose at that, a cheap sort of laugh, and nods. “Maybe.”

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

You once told me I didn’t know what ‘fun’ was.

And I agree. I didn’t.

Not until you.

| H.C. |

you wanna know something funny

ive actually been thinking about things

like thinking thinking

like, student-body-president level of over thinking.

and

listen

the whole premise of our ‘relationship’ was built on a fucking whim for me 

so what im gonna do

is use my resources.

im still technically in a relationship with the prez. the whole school still thinks we’re together. jaime thinks we’re head over fucking heels for each other. nothing’s stopping me from doing all the shit i was doing before.

im not gonna be the one to call it quits

it’ll have to be him.

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

No one told me being in love would hurt this much.

Do you know that you hurt me?

Do you care?

「 february 29 | thursday | 3:10pm 」

The poets always speak about yearning like it’s comparable to death. Like longing for a lover is as close to the end of your life as anything else could even try. And for a man who reads poetry as often as he does, it’s laughably pathetic that Ari wasn’t ready to face the consequences of falling in love with Hyojin Carys.

He’s hunched over his desk in the student council room again, like an insane man with nothing better to with his life other than brood like the Misunderstood Love Interest of a Jane Austen novel. 

Darcy may have perfected the art of being a loveable paragon of selflessness, but he sure as hell wasn’t prohibited by something as stupidly self-sabotaging as fake-dating the object of all his desires. No, instead he had horrible sideburns, societal burdens, and probably tuberculosis.

Not nearly as harrowing as Ari’s situation.

The words on the paper in front of Ari almost seem to swirl around the page, a complete blur of things that might make sense if he had half of a brain. Prom- something, venue- something, budget- something, something-something- Carys -something…

No, wait, that last one’s not right.

That one’s just his mind playing evil little pranks on him.

He sighs, deflating his lungs and pulling his soul out of his body all at the same time, hands going up into his hair to tug at the roots.

“Wow. That was a big one.”

Ari whips his head up in a jolt, almost ripping out his hair by the follicles as his eyes go wide, blinking wildly at the figure across the room. Leaning on the open whiteboard cabinet, all shaggy wolfcut, smug face, and leather jacket, stands none other than the source of all of Ari’s inner turmoils.

Somewhere, deep down in the depths of his dusty brain, Ari remembers something or other about a poltergeist.

“How out of it d’you have to be to not notice a guy breaking into the room?” he snorts, tilting his head like he’s scrutinising every inch of Ari’s face from beneath those dark bangs.

It takes a moment or two of furious blinking for Ari to realise that the man standing in the room with him is, in fact, standing in the room with him, and not a figment of his gay little imagination. “What— When did— How—”

Without missing a single beat, Hyojin shrugs, hands shoved into his jeans in a show of pure nonchalance. “Shit window security, remember?” 

Ari feels his shoulders relax a little, subconsciously. Like he’s been hard at work for weeks and has finally come home to a warm bed. “Yeah,” he mumbles, a light chuckle falling out of him.

In an oversized Arctic Monkeys shirt and his signature headphones, Hyojin's dressed in his own attire, free from the shackles of a uniform for a fleeting moment. And from the lack of bare skin attacking Ari’s vision, he guesses Hyojin isn't on his way to work.

Some sick part of his brain muses the idea of Hyojin coming all the way here for him.

“How’s it been without me?” Hyojin asks, eyes bored.

Lonely, Ari thinks. But he won’t say that. “Quiet.”

“I meant school.”

“Oh.” Ari averts his eyes from the strong gaze on him, fiddling with a pen. “It— It’s been, um… not-quiet. I suppose. People have been asking me about you.”

Making himself comfortable, Hyojin hoists himself up onto the whiteboard unit, so he’s sitting halfway inside of it. Ari really wonders how he fits so well in such a small space. “And what have you been saying?”

Ari feels like he could cut this conversation with a single strong breath; like he’s treading on glass so sharp it could cut through molecules.

But Hyojin seems all the same. Which is fair, he guesses. Nothing was supposed to have changed. They’re still pretending to date.

Hyojin is still uninterested.

Ari is still lying to himself.

“I’ve been saying I miss you,” he admits, somewhat murmuring the words. “People keep asking me if I do, so…”

He trails off, unsure of what else to add—with no help from his mind, which apparently has lost all sense at the simple sight of Hyojin’s face. Hyojin doesn’t help, either, as he sits there with a blank stare.

Ari watches him, trying to investigate the mystery that is Hyojin Carys. It doesn’t work. He’d need to be Sherlock fucking Holmes to figure Hyojin out. And even then, his chances would be stupidly thin.

“I haven’t gotten any annoyingly chummy texts from you recently,” he says, finally.

It’s not exactly what Ari was expecting to hear. “Ah,” he clears his throat, “yeah. I just… figured you might want some time to yourself, or… something. Didn’t need me pinging your phone every half-hour, right?”

“You every half-hour is still better than Jaime every half-minute.”

Ari laughs at that, but trails off with no other words. He has so much to say, and yet none of it conjures up in his little brain. He wishes he’d made a PowerPoint presentation for this. It’d make things so much easier.

Comforted by the small space of the whiteboard unit, Hyojin tilts his head to the side, leaning it against the board. From behind his long black bangs, he watches his school president—his fake boyfriend—fidget at the desk across the room; he runs his gaze across tanned skin and brown hair; across the eyebags under brown eyes.

“So,” the president starts, needlessly tidying up the supplies on the desk, “Did you… want notes from class? You might be better off getting them from Jaime, though, since you two share some classes…” 

Hyojin just stares at him.

Really stares.

“You really don’t know me at all,” he says, “do you, prez?” It’s more an observation than an insult. Like it’s dawned on him—Ari is so far in his own head, stumbling over all the details, that Hyojin may as well be a bulldozer for the pretty gardens in his mind.

Ari is looking down at his hands underneath the table, head down, when he answers. “I guess not.”

Hyojin hums.

It starts to make sense.

He tries not to laugh at how stupid it all is.

He thinks about what Isaac said, with his annoying optimism. Be the light.

Swinging his body out of the unit with the grace of someone with years of experience jumping fences, Hyojin stalks over to the president, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“Everyone still buying into our pretend relationship?” he asks, greedy with the gaze that follows him as he approaches the desk. “Without me even being here?”

With a frantic nod, Ari clears his throat and tries not to watch as Hyojin takes a seat on the edge of his desk. “Yes,” he confirms, “Yeah. No one suspects anything, as far as I know. I’ve, um— I’ve had a couple confessions here and there, but they’ve… they always mention something about not wanting to,” he pauses, stretching his cheek out with a cringed smile as he finds the words, “ infringe… on my already-existing relationship.”

Hyojin picks up an ornamental mini-figure of the school statue from the desk, passing it between his hands. “So you’re getting peace,” he says, “and I’m getting Jaime. Great. What a victory.”

A laugh falls out of Ari’s mouth before he can help it; before his nerves can even have a say. It’s horribly ironic, he thinks, that Hyojin poses as both the source of all his worries —and the cure.

“Y’know,” Hyojin starts, throwing the marble figure into the air and catching it without looking away from Ari, “sometimes I feel like you’re getting a lot more out of this than I am.”

The words would hurt Ari if they weren’t accompanied by such a charming smile; if they weren’t doused in layers of lightheartedness. “How so?” He’ll humour Hyojin. He’ll humour himself.

Hyojin seems satisfied with the response, finally setting the figure down and turning to face Ari better. “Well, for one, the whole ‘pretending to date’ thing was your idea.”

A switch turns on in Ari’s body; the part of him that loves a good debate. “You agreed to it.”

“Your outcome is that you’re free of people bothering you,” Hyojin argues, “but mine is that people will come and bother me .”

“Again,” Ari says, “you agreed to it.”

Hyojin stays quiet for a little after that, narrowing his eyes at Ari, formulating another argument. “You don’t have a Jaime.”

A snort. “Jaime’s not that bad.”

“He’s got too much energy for me.” Hyojin tilts his head like he’s thinking, tapping his fingers along the mahogany desk. “You do have Lucio, though. That might be equally shit.”

Ari can’t help the small laugh that escapes him. “Hey now,” he defends, perhaps a little too much later, “Luce isn’t shit. He’s my best friend.”

Hyojin shrugs, fangs gleaming with a grin. “Losers hang out with losers.”

“And what does that make you?”

“A saint.”

Saint my ass, Ari thinks as he rolls his eyes, covering his wide grin with a hand. Then he sits up in his chair, a lightbulb appearing in the dismal empty basement that he calls his brain. “Hey, speaking of…”

He bites the inside of his cheek when Hyojin looks at him dead in the eye. (It’s a sin to be that distracting.)

“Luce’s birthday is— he’s having a birthday party. Tomorrow night, at his place.” Hyojin raises a brow. “I’d like it if you’d come,” Ari elaborates. “I’ll send you the address—maybe… swing by? If you can?”

“Not sure me and ol’ Luce are buddy-buddy enough for me to… swing by,” he says, in a sort of laugh-huff-scoff combination.

And, yes, Ari will admit—they’re not. But, “I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

There’s a quirk in Hyojin’s smile when he furrows his brow at Ari, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. But then he’s nodding, crossing his arms and humming. “I’ll see.”

With that, he glides off the desk and across the room, opening up his trademark window without a word. Ari bites his lip. “Leaving already?”

“I’m still suspended, prez. Technically, I’m not allowed on campus grounds.”

“Since when did rules apply to you?”

Hyojin’s already jumped over the threshold, leaning an arm on the window frame as he winks at his president. “Smart man. Honoured to have you as my fake boyfriend.”

And he’s gone.

Like a shadow; or some sad figment of Ari’s imagination. (He wouldn’t move past that last one so quickly, what with all the pining he’s been doing recently.) He leans back in his chair, ears straining to catch the revving of a certain motorcycle several feet away.

He guesses he should go back to reviewing plans, signing papers, and fantasizing about a domestic future with Hyojin where they adopt a bunny and come home to see each other every day.

You know. Normal school president stuff.

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

I’m afraid of what might happen to me if you leave me.

Will I go back to how I once was?

「 march 1 | friday | 1:24pm 」

Lucio’s birthday party is less of a party and more a gathering of nerd friends who play nerd games and do nerd things. Hence the current hyperactivity of a certain party-freak Law student.

Huddled in the garage, a makeshift party space decked out with consoles and couches and a snack bar, Maki is drawing everyone’s attention with his third round of karaoke.

Which would be spectacular.

If he could sing.

He’s halfway through a weirdly passionate version of Kreayshawn’s ‘Missing Kitty’ when Lucio’s dad pops his head in through the glittery curtain of the garage door, calling for his son.

Lucio puts down his cup of Coke, leaving the cheering group to join his dad inside the house. “Yeah, pa? What’s up?”

“There’s a boy waiting outside,” he says, pointing towards the foyer of the house. 

With a frown, Lucio cranes his head back into the garage, counting the heads of his friends inside: Maki, Amir, and the student council. Excluding Ari, on a trip to the bathroom, Lucio’s not missing anyone. “I didn’t invite anyone else.”

His dad shrugs. “He looks your age, and I’m not expecting anyone.”

“I’ll check it out, I guess,” he dismisses, walking off.

When he opens the front door, he doesn’t know if it’s surprising or predictable that he’s met with the bored face of Hyojin Carys. He always looks like he’s scowling, that guy. Maybe he was just born like that.

Lucio leans on the threshold, still a little personally pissed that he’s a few inches shorter than the man in front of him. “Didn’t think we were chummy enough for you to come.” Ari had informed him of his apparent plus-one—he just didn’t think Hyojin would actually show up.

Infuriatingly, Hyojin seems to half-smile at the comment, shrugging with one shoulder. “Hurts me to admit it, but I said the exact same thing.”

He’s dressed in an oversized black sweater, falling off one shoulder to reveal a black tank top underneath, and black cargo pants. Lucio wonders if the guy’s got any other colour in his wardrobe. There’s a small white bag in his hand—a gift, if Lucio will choose to believe it. “That for me?” he asks, nodding to it.

“If you want it.”

Lucio hums, narrowing his eyes at the blank design. Could be socks. Could be poison. He takes it, cautiously, and sets it on top of a cabinet by the door. “Come in.” Hyojin accepts the hospitality—but before he can make a beeline for the garage, Lucio cuts in, “I need to talk to you, actually.” He makes his way to the staircase on the side, glancing over his shoulder. “Follow me.”

「 1:26pm 」

Out on the second-floor balcony, Hyojin starts the conversation with, “You gonna murder me?”

“In my own house? Don’t be stupid.” 

With a snort, Hyojin leans onto the balcony railing, letting the soft wind flow through his shaggy hair. “So? What’s this about?”

Lucio doesn’t bother beating around the bush. “How do you feel about Ari?”

Hyojin raises a brow. Well, Lucio thinks he does. It’s hard to tell what any of his expressions are under those bangs. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not a hard question,” he says, a little harsher. “Ari. Your feelings for him.”

He guesses this might finally be the best-friend-shake-down. The ‘You Hurt Him I Hurt You’ Talk. Though he’s sure he could take on Lucio anyday, without even stretching.

Truthfully, Hyojin wasn’t expecting this type of interrogation. He thought Lucio had accepted the fake relationship just like everyone else—thought he and Ari were madly in love. (Well…)

“I love him.”

He’s never said that out loud before.

It’s so much easier to say than he thought it would be.

“Wow.” Lucio sighs. “You’re a cruel man, Hyojin.”

Now that—that was unexpected. He turns to the man beside him, brows furrowed and threatening to merge together. Lucio is staring right back at him, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. 

“Stop lying to me,” he says. “I know the truth.”

Hyojin frowns. “The truth being…?”

“You and Ari,” Lucio spits, like he’s half an inch away from lifting a balcony chair and beating Hyojin over the head with it. “I know your relationship is fake.”

Oh.

Oh.

Well.

What a day.

Hyojin sighs out of his nose, somehow both surprised someone found out, and surprised it took someone this damn long. 

“Did he tell you?”

“No,” Lucio answers, still glaring at the accused. “I figured it out with my amazing detective skills.”

Hyojin raises a brow at him.

“...I overheard you guys talking in the council room yesterday.”

“So you were eavesdropping.”

“I wasn’t trying to, I— I was just grabbing something Amir forgot there. It’s not like— When I got to the door, you two were in the middle of something and I was just, like, waiting.” He fiddles with the strands of his ponytail, refusing to look Hyojin in the eye. “Not my fault the door’s so fucking thin. But that’s besides the topic! ”

Hyojin rolls his eyes. It’s too early to deal with this.

“What’s the deal?” Apparently, Lucio’s confidence levels are just about as unstable as a jenga set on a rolling pin. He’s turned on Hyojin now, eyes blazing and teeth bared. “Are you just— Are you playing around with him? Because I swear to fucking God, Hyojin, if you’re—”

“I’m not.”

“Then what are you—”

Hyojin groans, reflexively grabbing ahold of Lucio’s shirt, pulling him up those few inches closer. “I love him. It sounds ridiculous, and you can choose not to believe me all you want, but it’s the fucking truth. Now, will you shut the fuck up?”

He watches as Lucio gulps, seemingly starting to remember just who he has on his balcony. “I don’t get it,” he says, eyes set straight. “Why are you guys… How much of all this is real? Y’all told us—you told us—that it was real. So—”

“So what the hell is actually happening?” He lets go of Lucio’s shirt, pushing him back without much force. “It’s… complicated.”

“Oh, sure, that explains everything—”

Hyojin turns back with a closed fist, and it shuts Lucio right up. Then he sighs, leaning his arms on the railing again, staring out into the suburban neighbourhood around them. “We’re not actually dating,” he explains, “but I wish we were.”

In an act of merciful peace, Lucio simply stands next to Hyojin, listening as he talks.

“It started as a deal—he’d stop getting confessions, and I’d stop being seen as the fucking boogeyman. But somewhere along the way, feelings got involved.” He could spend another fifteen long-winded paragraphs on the whole situation, but Lucio doesn’t deserve the pathetic truth of all his pining. Also, he frankly just can’t give that much of a shit. “And now we’re here.”

Lucio stares at him; tries to gauge any sort of indication of something deeper behind deep black eyes and scowling lips. He says, matter-of-factly: “Ari loves you.”

Hyojin’s breath gets caught in his throat. “I know he does.”

“So why are you still…” Lucio gestures vaguely with his hands.

He laughs, dry and humourless. “I’d like to know why, too. But it’s not up to me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I actually did try to talk to him,” he says, thinking back to one of the worst mornings of this life. “About making things real. But he shot me down before I could even mention it. Apparently, he’s pretty fucking set on it being fake.”

They simmer in silence for a few moments, air stale around the two acquaintances-slash-friends-slash-enemies-for-life. Then Lucio lets out a big breath in an almost ‘ahh’ sound, indicating some sort of resolve he’s made. “Y’know what,” he says, “I get it.”

Hyojin frowns. “That makes sense to you? How? Doesn’t to me.”

“I’ve known Ari since we were kids, dude. I know how his mind works. He’s… Well, he’s a little…” He huffs. “He’s a bit of a pain.”

Hyojin snorts. 

“His mind works overtime, and it takes him a while to figure things out. He’s fine when it comes to actual academic stuff, but when you throw something like this, ” he gestures a hand over Hyojin’s being, “at him, well… I’m surprised he hasn’t already broken down.”

There have certainly been times that Hyojin has broken the man, but Lucio doesn’t need to know that. Nor does he want to, Hyojin assumes.

“He told me you make him happy.” Lucio’s seemingly happier, now, with a small grin on his face as he watches a cloud float by. (Hyojin pretends he’s not smiling himself, at that sentence.) “I don’t know what’s making him hesitate, and I don’t think I can do anything to help you guys out.”

It’s hard not to laugh at the prospect of Lucio ‘helping them out’. Helping them with what, exactly? Making the already-not-platonic making out they do into something more-obviously-not-platonic?

“It’s not my relationship, so I won’t pry. But just know, if you hurt him,” he warns, “I'll make all Hell break loose.” He’s pointing an accusatory finger at Hyojin, attempting to make a threat. “Got that?”

“Got it, tough guy.” Hyojin laughs with a closed mouth, finding it ridiculous that he admires this fool of a man. He reaches out and holds Lucio’s finger between his own, wagging it playfully. “You should really redirect this confidence to something else, y’know. Like asking a certain vice-president out.”

With something of a growl, Lucio steals his finger back, all amicability dissipating from his veins. “I don’t need relationship advice from the likes of you. ”

Hyojin shrugs. “Between the two of us, I’m the one who’s at least had some action with their crush.”

“That is disgusting. I don’t want— That’s— I’m leaving.” Sure enough, Lucio is sliding open the balcony door, leaving Hyojin alone on the wooden deck. “If it weren’t for Ari, I'd beat your ass.”

“How? By throwing a Poke Ball at me?” Hyojin leans his back on the rails, crossing his arms as he appraises the man before him. “Keep dreaming, Lucy.”

Lucio makes a face. “You’re a pain in my ass, Hyojin.” He flips him off, then stalks off downstairs.

Not a moment later, a familiar head of brunette waves is hopping up the stairs, face brightening with a grin the moment he sees Hyojin standing there.

“You came!” Ari’s grin really does make him feel better. (Hyojin mentally gags at himself.) “Sorry I didn’t greet you at the door.”

“Eh, it’s fine. ‘Sides, I got to talk to your best bud.” Hyojin shrugs, joining Ari inside the house and walking with him to join the rest of the party.

“You and Luce talked? About what?”

“Pokemon.”

“What?”

They’re entering the garage before Ari can even think to ask more, the crowd greeting them with cheers and formalities. Hyojin sends a quick thanks up to a higher power for the lack of a certain clingy brunette.

Lucio is handing him a microphone before he realises it, with a smug smirk on his face that Hyojin would love to slap off. “You’re up, hotshot,” he says, pointing a thumb to the TV behind him that displays a karaoke-version of Taylor Swift’s ‘I Did Something Bad’.

“Fuck no.”

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

I hate that you make me happy.

I hate that you make me dream of a future where I’m happier than I’ve ever been.

It makes my heart ache.

「 march 4 | monday | 8:10am 」

With the weekend passing by in a blur of heart-palpitating text messages and a concerning amount of ink written into journal pages, the school week starts again—and President Ari finds himself lingering around a locker that isn’t his own.

It helps to have conversations with the students that pass by him, all early for the day and eager for a few hours with their friends and enemies alike. None of them seem to notice the fidgeting of Ari’s fingers, or the skin of his lips, chapped from all his biting.

He’s nervous. Which is ridiculous. He’s only been nervous to go to school twice in his entire life. The first was the assembly in which they’d announced he was going to be the next student body president. The second was the day he and Hyojin walked through the hallways holding hands. But there’s a new addition: today.

The end of Hyojin’s suspension.

[to be continued...]

Chapter Text

「 march 4 | monday | 10:35am 」

By the time lunch rolls around, Ari realises he’s spent the last two hours acting like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home, periodically wondering about what he’ll say to Hyojin when he shows his pretty face.

Anxious, on his toes, and at his wit’s end, the school president shuffles into the cafeteria, slumping into the seat at his usual table.

“You look positively radiant,” Lucio comments, sliding a bottle of apple juice his best friend’s way. 

Ari sighs, leaning his cheek into a hand and shaking the bottle idly. “I didn’t get much sleep.”

From across the table, Amir chews on a fork as they butt in, “That’s weird coming from you. You’re usually out cold by nine.”

“Like a grandma,” Lucio so graciously adds.

"Don't insult me for having a good sleep schedule," Ari lectures, pointing an accusatory finger at the Monster can in Lucio's grasp. Though he supposes he's not much of an authority figure on the topic; he hasn't had a good night's rest since January.

In some sick joke on his existence, the universe decides to make him face the depressing music—the source of said restless nights. A crowd forms by one entrance of the cafeteria, the tables surrounding stopping their conversations to watch the commotion.

And there, right in the centre, under a hallucinogenic spotlight provided by Ari’s mind: An oversized sweater. A wolfcut. A pair of black headphones. An untied tie.

Hyojin Carys, the man of the hour.

Ari feels a wave of nostalgia wash over him.

This time, however, feels different.

From where he sits, the president stares as his boyfriend-by-fake-title saunters into the cafeteria, an arm swung over his shoulder to hold his bag like some cheap gag of a garish character. (Unbelievably, it fits him. Even more unbelievably, he looks good doing it.) The crowd, parted as it had been all those weeks ago, stares right along with him, with a significant lack of hostility in their auras.

There are even smiling faces mixed within the crowd, Ari finds, when he scans his peers. Last month, barely anyone would even dare to look at Hyojin in the eyes—the few and the far between with the courage to would find themselves drenched in hatred or otherwise. But now— now, people are looking at him with awe; fondness.

People are looking at him, and seeing what’s there; seeing exactly what Ari is seeing— has been seeing.

Ari thinks he hears Amir remark something about a power-couple-this, showstopping-entrances-that, but he doesn’t get time to process it before Hyojin is marching up to his table with stupidly attractive strides—before Hyojin is in front of him, with a hand wrapped around his tie, pulling him in.

And his lips are as warm as Ari remembers them to be. Intoxicating and soft; warm and electric.

(God, these lips.)

(He could die happy with them on him.)

It’s over much too soon, with Ari’s pathetically rattled ass stumbling back into his chair with a red flush, blinking up at a grinning face. Hyojin’s voice is stable and clear when he speaks, like he’s finally become himself on school grounds. “Missed you, sweetheart.”

A second passes.

Two.

Three.

Finally collecting himself, Ari clears his throat, ears burning with the flames of the goddamned sun. “That’s— This is, um. Quite the return, Carys,” he mumbles, ignoring the hundreds of eyes on him for his own sanity.

Hyojin shrugs, and it’s way too attractive for what it is. “Had to make sure everyone remembers me.”

“I’m certain no one has forgotten about you in a week.”

“Yeah,” Amir agrees, “actually, you’ve become a full-on celebrity.”

“Have I?” Ari doesn’t know if cocky-Hyojin is his favourite type of Hyojin, or if cocky-Hyojin is going to be the literal death of him. Maybe both. (Definitely both.)

“Ever since your fight, Ben’s gone quiet. Hasn’t harassed anyone in days—it’s truly magical.” Amir has moved on from their fork to their empty bottle of chocolate milk, chewing on the rim as they speak with a twinkle in their eyes. “People are calling you a hero.”

Ari furrows his brow. “They have?” He hasn’t heard anything like that.

“Well, no, not really,” Amir shrugs, “but it’s damn close. Soon enough, you’ll have your own fanclub, just like Ari.”

Hyojin barks out a laugh at the statement, curved eyes looking down at his supposed boyfriend. “Aw, a fanclub. How adorable.”

Rolling his eyes, Ari waves a dismissive hand. “I don’t have a—”

His two friends at the table clear their throats at the same time, both of them delivering him a look of pure incredulity.

“I don’t.”

(Fine. He may or may not have a fanclub. Whatever.)

"I mean, even if I did have fans, what would they be fan-ing over?" He makes a face, a sudden burst of ugly emotions bubbling right back up at the memory of persistent freshmen and annoying sophomores. "My presidency?"

When Hyojin hums, hand on his chin and brow raised in mock thought, Ari wonders if he would’ve been better off letting Hyojin remain the quiet shadow he once was. “Your good looks,” Hyojin offers, starting a list with a gleam in his eye, “Your grades. Your acts of service.” He leans down a little, hand on the table and mouth right by Ari’s ear as he adds, quietly, “The way you blush from your ears to your chest.”

Reflexively, Ari’s hand shoots up to cover his ear, ignoring the tingling feeling in his gut and the sparks behind his eyes. Hyojin simply laughs at him, a venomous adoration painted across his wonky grin. 

“Maybe not that last one,” he chuckles, a gloss shining over his deep brown eyes, like a dolphin playing with its food. 

And suddenly, Ari feels very, very tired.

⦗ ┅ ⦘

vodka⁷ @ontheroxxie

did you guys see carys rock up to school today…. straight to his boyfriend. I hate gay people so much

yandi⁷ @ayandiahariya
Replying to @ontheroxxie

did you HEAR him???? called ari sweetheart. i am so unapologetically homophobic.

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

You kissed me. It made me sad.

I just keep thinking about how easy it all is for you.

Do you kiss others like this?

⦗ ┅ ⦘

finch 💫 @calcifervamp

i was sitting near astutia and co’s table at lunch and they all started talking about astutia’s fanclub and he was like “no i dont have one” … whos gonna tell him

lime🍋 @Asweetlime1
Replying to @calcifervamp 

Me im president of the fanclub

finch 💫 @calcifervamp
Replying to @Asweetlime1

pretty sure that position belongs to carys

lime🍋 @Asweetlime1
Replying to @calcifervamp

Fuck i cant compete with carys what the hell

finch 💫 @calcifervamp
Replying to @Asweetlime1

its fine just join our fanclub for him instead

lime🍋 @Asweetlime1
Replying to @calcifervamp

YOU GUYS HAVE A FANCLUB? But no im loyal to astutia

finch 💫 @calcifervamp
Replying to @Asweetlime1

astutia stans are the worst

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

I was passing by one of your classes.

I saw you laughing with someone who wasn't me.

Is it bad that I hate that?

Everyone else seeing you laugh?

⦗ ┅ ⦘

XIAOFEI !! @XFwashere

president astutia went one week without seeing carys in the hallways and now that hes back hes all nervous fidgeting and bashful smiles….

ella 🪴 @ghostiella
Replying to @XFwashere

im so in love with him please hes so cute

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @ghostiella

?

ella 🪴 @ghostiella
Replying to @hyojincarys

LEAVE

Hyojin Carys :)

how do you deal with people coming up to you all the time

I’m the school president, Carys

Talking to students kind of comes with the job

its fucking exhausting

Isn’t this what you wanted?

i wanted people to stop thinking im some crime boss

not that im their best fucking friend

its like the school is filled with mini jaimes

its terrible

Be careful what you wish for, I suppose

On a side note, it’s fascinating how easily people switched up on their opinion about you

Enough so that you’re now complaining about people randomly approaching you

honestly cant tell if its bc of you

or if its bc i beat ben up

I’d like to believe it a mixture of both

its a little funny

they all fucking hated me for using my fists

and now they all love me for it

Common enemies do make friends

humans are such interesting little creatures

⦗ ┅ ⦘

zoe @lobsnter

TIL president ari is a blushing mess around carys 

moon @moonlvster_
Replying to @lobsnter

u learned that TODAY?????? where have u been

zoe @lobsnter
Replying to @moonlvster_

avoiding carys like the plague

moon @moonlvster_
Replying to @lobsnter

but hes like . hes not bad

zoe @lobsnter
Replying to @moonlvster_

not anymore……………… i still feel like he wants to kill me tho…………….. gives off those vibes……………………

moon @moonlvster_
Replying to @lobsnter

i get what u mean. kinda hot tho

zoe @lobsnter
Replying to @moonlvster_

its not hot you’re just into psychopaths

moon @moonlvster_
Replying to @lobsnter

if carys was a woman u would agree

zoe @lobsnter
Replying to @moonlvster_

I would!

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

You've heard of the saying, "Rome wasn't built in a day." Have you heard its second line?

"But it did burn down in one."

I fear I've built my Rome too quickly; I fear I've built it too weak. I fear, one day, it might burn down. You might be holding the match. But if that's the case, then I fear something else entirely.

I fear I might let it burn.

⦗ ┅ ⦘

baz pitch @basilgpitch

Just saw Ari walk straight into a classroom door. Too busy thinking about his boyfriend, probably.

simon snow is in love @snowysiimon
Replying to @basilgpitch

if my boyfriend was hyojin i’d be walking into classroom doors too

baz pitch @basilgpitch
Replying to @snowysiimon

Key word ‘if’

simon snow is in love @snowysiimon
Replying to @basilgpitch

can you. shut your mouth. maybe

「 march 7 | thursday | 11:30am 」

Lucio is happily strolling through a hallway at the end of lunch, off to his third-period class, when he’s grabbed by the collar of his letterman jacket and shoved into a wall of lockers.

It’s hard enough to shock him, but soft enough to not cause damage, and when his senses come back to him after falling out of his ass, he’s met with the scowling face that doesn’t surprise him in the fucking slightest.

“What the hell, man?” he spits in Hyojin’s face, body held up against the lockers by Hyojin’s forearm across his chest.

Hyojin is glaring at him, the corner of his lip quirked up in a snarl. “This was your doing, wasn’t it,” he accuses, holding up a piece of paper in his free hand.

Against his better judgement, Lucio glances over—it’s one of the posters about the upcoming Junior-Senior Prom. They’d come out this morning, and the council members had run themselves ragged draping them all across the school.

“My locker’s not a fucking billboard,” Hyojin growls. There’s a vein in the side of his neck that looks ready to pop, and, in any other situation, Lucio would jump at the chance to poke fun at it.

Instead, he grabs Hyojin’s forearm with the grip that he uses on his javelins, and glares right back up at the bastard. “Why the fuck would it be me? I’m not even on the council; get your head out of your ass.”

Hyojin hums, tilting his head back and narrowing his eyes at the man trapped under his arm. “Well, let’s see. Who’s friends with the president and vice-president? Who’s got easy access to these posters?” The pressure of his arm gets heavier on Lucio’s chest—Lucio’s grip gets equally tighter around his arm. “Who’s an annoying little shit that doesn’t like me? Who would take any chance to do something this fucking petty— ”

“It’s a little early to be having a brawl, isn’t it?” They both turn at a joyful voice beside them—a president with his books in his arms and a wonky smile on his face. Before Ari even thinks about questioning the violence before noon, he sees the rom poster in Hyojin’s grip, and his face lights up. “You got my poster!”

Despite the conversation starting, Hyojin keeps his arm against Lucio’s body—who, frankly, is getting real sick and tired of being associated with the local delinquent. Hyojin is staring at the president, eyes blank and brow raised. “You put this on my locker?”

“I did,” he says, with an innocent smile. “I just wanted to remind you. And I helped make that poster—I’m a little proud of it,” he chuckles, fiddling with a strand of brown. He tilts his head, and Hyojin swears he can see a question mark pop up. “Why?”

“No reason.” He scrunches the poster up and shoves it in his pocket, releasing a more-than-pissed-off Lucio from his grasp. Hyojin is looking away from both of them, almost like he’s… bashful. “Thanks for the poster.”

Lucio feels his eye twitch.

⦗ ┅ ⦘

moon @moonlvster_

saw astutia and carys holding hands under the desks in class. not too fond of gay people.

Alastair/Papaya🍃✨ @holypapayacake
Relpying to @moonlvster_

HYOJIN RETWEETED THIS LMAO

moon @moonlvster_
Replying to @moonlvster_

[let’s hope it’s just a phase.jpg]

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

I've seen a few poets write about sacrificing yourself for the one you love. Unknowingly, and unwittingly.

I could never understand how someone could do such a thing; how a conscience could sabotage itself like that. But I understand it now. And I understand, finally, that those poets were not angry.

They were happy.

⦗ ┅ ⦘

Ari :) @Ari_Astutia

You are all… so…

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @Ari_Astutia

careful, prez. one wrong word and your fans might leave you for me.

Ari :) @Ari_Astutia
Replying to @hyojincarys

I think you’re too cocky for your own good

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @Ari_Astutia

you love it when im cocky

Ari :) @Ari_Astutia
Replying to @hyojincarys

I do not

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @Ari_Astutia

liar.

Ari :) @Ari_Astutia
Replying to @hyojincarys

Brute

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @Ari_Astutia

you’re real cute when you blush

Ari :) @Ari_Astutia
Replying to @hyojincarys

Stop looking at me

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @Ari_Astutia

don’t want to

🔥luce @VOlucANioN
Replying to @hyojincarys and @Ari_Astutia

Digital. Fucking. Footprint.

「 march 11 | monday | 3:43pm 」

On a sunny Monday afternoon, the academy’s council room finds itself in full swing.

The seniors have joined Ari by his desk, all dedicated to ensuring the nitty-gritty details of the upcoming Prom will run smoothly: the budget, the band, the venue, the permission slips. Meanwhile, the juniors—the Prom committee—have made a base in the conversation pit, gathered around as they swap ideas for marketing, theme, and mini-events.

“Hey, seniors,” comes an energetic voice from the couches, drawing the attentions of Ari and the rest of the council as they turn at the call. It’s one of the juniors, Roxanne, with a bright smile on her face.

“Yes, Roxie?” he perks up, laying his papers down on the desk.

“For Prom King and Queen, how would you go about nominating candidates?” So this is what the juniors have been up to whilst Ari slaves over the budget. “Should we do a voting system for both nominating the candidates and for the finalists?”

“Just get rid of the entire system,” Roxanne’s twin brother, Cooper, rebukes, with a blank face and a bored tone. Ari suspects the boy was dragged into the whole thing, and would rather be anywhere else than planning a prom. “Easy fix.”

Roxanne slaps Cooper’s arm with the back of her hand, scowling at him. “I already told you your opinion has been flushed. Shut up.”

Despite the laughter bubbling up in his throat, Ari manages to answer them with grace. “Well,” he starts, “you’ve got three weeks to finalise all of those votes, which might not be enough time to do two full rounds of voting. Or, it might be, but you’d be cutting it very close.”

The juniors seem to consider his words for a moment, glancing at each other before Roxanne turns back around, smiling up at her president. “We’ll nominate people, then. And get votes for finalists. It should be fine, right?”

Ari shrugs, a small smile painting his features. “It depends. Do you guys think you know the other students well enough to nominate the right people?”

The juniors all grin in response, like they’ve just been handed a challenge perfect for their skills.

“That’s President Ari for ya,” Another junior, Monique, laughs, charming grin lighting up the room just like Ari always sees her doing. “Maybe we should just give you the crown right now; you’re gonna win by a long shot.”

Ari just laughs at the comment, waving a dismissive hand and ignoring the flush of embarrassment creeping its way across his cheeks. “Ah, I don’t know about that. There are lots of other great candidates. Like Cooper, for example.”

“Put me in the draw,” Cooper drags out, speaking to no one in particular as he stares into nothingness, “and I’m skipping Prom altogether.”

“It’s a joke, Dove,” Roxanne answers, rolling her eyes. “Juniors can’t even be nominated. And you can’t skip, you’re my ride.”

“You can take the bus.”

“Oi—”

“Being humble and being ignorant are two very different things, Ari.” From where she stands behind Ari, crossing her arms against her chest, Penelope pushes up her glasses and raises a brow at the president. “It’s no secret the students love you.”

With a hum, Ari nervously scratches at his nape, unsure of what to say. Thankfully, Roxanne is more than happy to continue the conversation. “So?” she pipes up, green eyes twinkling. “Got any juicy promposal stories, Ari? I head last year, someone vandalised the football field to ask you!”

He chuckles, though it’s humourless. The memory of having to reject a senior last year after they’d painted the field to ask him to Prom was painful to go back to, to say the least.

From where he sits on the edge of Ari’s desk and plays with a Rubik’s cube, Caden joins in: “Didn’t someone also ask you to be their date with that whole performance in the caf? I think I still have that video on my phone somewhere. What did they sing, again? Some Ed Sheeran song?”

Ari cringes. “Bruno Mars, actually,” he corrects, with an averted gaze. He remembers that the actual performance hadn’t been terrible… but the aftermath of their rejection had torn down his sanity for a good few hours.

And simply because everyone has chosen to torture Ari today, Arjun also tosses his coin into the hat. ‘And there was that one time,’ he signs, ‘there was a big banner hanging at the entrance, with—’

“Okay,” the president says sternly, holding a hand out to stop the conversation as politely as he humanely can. “That’s enough, thank you. I’d rather not revisit those events, memorable as they are.” He feels a migraine forming in his cranium, and he sighs, painting on a smile to look back at Roxanne. “To answer your question: no. I haven’t received any ‘promposals’. End of discussion, thank you.”

And now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t received any confessions, either. In all the chaos of his and Hyojin’s messy relationship, he’d completely forgotten why said relationship had started in the first place: to deter people from confessing to him.

And it had worked. He should feel relieved—and he does. He’d successfully squandered the issue of relentless confessions and endless migraines. But now… Now, he was faced with a new pesky little thing.

Feelings.

“What about Hyojin Carys?”

The mention of his name has Ari jolting in his seat, his soul dragged back to reality with a shock. He blinks at the suggestion from Xiaofei, another junior, sitting on the couch and displaying his phone screen: turned on to Hyojin’s twitter profile.

Ari clears his throat. “What about him?”

“I feel like he’d be a good candidate,” Xiaofei elaborates, scrolling through his phone like a quick study on Hyojin’s persona. He grins more with his eyes than he does with his mouth—a face made of puffy cheeks and gleaming curved eyes behind gold-framed glasses. “He’s become pretty popular.”

With a slight laugh behind his hand, Ari can’t help the little flame of pride that ignites in his chest. “Who knew a fight could give someone such a positive reputation,” he says off-handedly.

“That, and because you’re dating him,” Amir adds, seemingly reminding everyone else in the room just who they’re talking about.

“And he’s a cool guy, too.” Roxanne lights up at the conversation, like she’s been dying to talk about the topic. “Like, I heard that this one time, he helped a freshman move some boxes between classrooms. It was so sweet.”

Did he?

Ari has never heard of that.

“He covered for Simon, too, when he was late to class,” Penny puts onto the table, face blank. “He didn’t have to, but he did. Simon nearly cleaned the floor with his gracious kneeling.”

Ari has never heard of that, either.

It shouldn’t astound him, but it does. There are countless stories out there, throughout the school hallways, about Hyojin, that Ari isn’t privy to. The hallways and Hyojin Carys—Ari was supposed to know them both. 

Something ugly snuffs out the flame in his chest, replacing it with disdainful slime. Why does everyone else get to know a Hyojin that he doesn't know himself?

He wonders if Hyojin has grown beyond him.

Beyond needing him.

⦗ ┅ ⦘

📌GUOBA THREAD @maopotofu

u guys know that hyojin carys guy? why…….. why he kinda…………

xq | reading @GuhuaGalant
Replying to @maopotofu

IVE BEEN SAYING THIS FOR THE LONGEST TIME HELLO??!?!?

❄️🌨️ @icypolenthusiast
Replying to @GuhuaGalant and @maopotofu

It’s true. He has been.

📌GUOBA THREAD @maopotofu
Replying to @icypolenthusiast and @GuhuaGalant

i feel so sorry for u. . . . must be hard being his best friend. . . 

❄️🌨️ @icypolenthusiast
Replying to @maopotofu and @GuhuaGalant

It is.

xq | reading @GuhuaGalant
Replying to @icypolenthusiast and @maopotofu

what the hell

Hyojin Carys :)

what colours are we wearing

Sorry?

prom

what colours

Oh

You want to match

With me?

well yeah

we’re going together

We are?

why would we not

Well

I just thought

I mean, you could go with Jaime and your friends

If you’d like to

I’m sure we’ve done enough that we can go separately to Prom without our relationship being under suspicion

no

we’re going together

Oh

Alright

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

When I burn, I promise I’ll let go of you. I won’t let you burn with me.

I ask that you turn on your heel, and walk away from my pyre.

Can you promise me that?

⦗ ┅ ⦘

A @alexgcd

there are two wolves inside you. one of them is jealous of hyojin because he gets to kiss ari. the other is jealous of ari bc he gets to kiss hyojin. you are me.

smora @irlchaosdemon
Replying to @alexgcd

gay

A @alexgcd
Replying to @irlchaosdemon

very.

「 march 14 | thursday | 10:41am 」

“You never answered my question.”

No matter what trials and tribulations they go through, Ari doubts he will ever be able to adapt to Hyojin’s strange shadow-likeness.

The president turns away from his locker, the lunchbox his mom made for him held tight in his grasp, and he greets his fake-boyfriend with a half-smile.

“What question?”

“Prom outfits,” Hyojin answers, posture and face as nonchalant as ever. Ari really admires just how utterly bored with life Hyojin can seem sometimes—eyes always half-closed; hands always tucked into his pockets beneath an oversized sweater; black headphones always wrapped around his neck; shoulders always slumped like he’s got zero anxieties about the world. “Colours.”

Ari smiles, despite himself. “I’m honestly surprised you don’t want to just dress in all-black, like a vampire.”

“I’m not a vampire, prez.”

“Goth, then?”

“Not goth.”

“Emo?”

A pause. “Not emo.”

“Are you sure?”

Hyojin clicks his tongue. “Prom colours.”

The response, completely deadpanned, makes Ari laugh. He closes his locker, and they walk together through the hallways, taking the scenic route to the cafeteria. Fiddling with his fingers over his lunchbox, Ari chews on his lip as he formulates a response. “I don’t really mind,” he says. “We can go with any colour you’d like.”

Hyojin stares at him as they walk, scrutinising the president’s side-profile.

(The wondrous thing about being Ari and Hyojin is the crowd-parting power their footsteps have in the hallway. No need to worry about bumping into someone when everybody trips over themselves to clear your path for you.)

“You should really do something about that habit of yours,” Hyojin settles on, finally relieving Ari of his intense gaze. “I’ve no idea how you’ve made it this far in high school with such an obvious tell.”

“‘Tell’?”

“You bite the skin on your lip,” Hyojin explains, pointing to his own, “when you’re trying to think of an answer. Or, translation: when you’re lying.” He looks up at Ari again, though this time through a side-eyed gaze. “Knowing you, you have an exact colour palette picked out. So fess up, prez.”

Ari doesn’t know whether to be impressed or appalled by the accuracy of the accusation. “I don’t—”

“You do.”

With a sigh and an annoyingly adamant flush on his ears, Ari tries to wave away his shame. “No, I…” He grumbles. “It’s— It’s embarrassing.”

Hyojin hums, a grin revealing his gleaming fangs, as he nods to a passing student that greets him. “I’m sure I’ve seen more embarrassing sides of you, prez. Need a recount?”

“For the sake of my sanity, I’ll decline the offer.”

“Unfortunately for your sanity, I’m persistent.” Hyojin chuckles. Ari loves when he does that. “C’mon, tell me.”

They’re a hallway away from the cafeteria, now. Ari turns the corner, delaying their destination before he even notices he’s doing it. “Well, it’s… I’d— I kind of…” He sighs. “I’d like to, kind of… go all out for this,” he mumbles. “A little bit.”

“Hah,” Hyojin turns his head, then, showcasing his devilish grin to the president, all fangs and twinkling eyes. “Sweetheart, I can do ‘all out’. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

It would be a sweet sentiment, if Hyojin Carys and Worrying weren’t the two perfect variables of the equation behind Ari’s entire current life. But he lets his shoulders relax at Hyojin’s words, averting his gaze as he sorts through the files in his mind. “I was thinking… I wanted silver details, maybe.” He pauses. “No, I do. I want silver details.”

There’s a soft smile on his features, lifting his cheekbones with a radiance. Hyojin tries not to fawn.

“I haven’t… I never decided on a specific colour.” He glances down at his companion, walking beside him with that powerful aura of his, and hums. “I think you would suit red.”

“I do.”

Ari snorts.

“So, you want to do, like, a dark-royal-Pinterest-vampire thing,” Hyojin clarifies, trying his best not to let on how adorable the president is being. “Red. With silver?”

Ari thinks about it for a little; weighs out the options. Then he nods. “If possible. Yes. I’d like to.”

“Alright,” Hyojin nods, “I’ll wear those colours. On one condition.”

“I didn’t think this was transactional.”

A passing urge tempts Hyojin to retort that their entire relationship is transactional, but he decides against it. “I’ll wear those colours— if you let me pick you up.”

Ari furrows his brow. “Pick me up? You…” He trails off, the pieces clicking together as he sighs and holds the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You want me to arrive at Prom on your motorcycle.”

“Abso-fucking- lutely .” Hyojin replies, laughter filling the hallway. 

“I did tell you that your motorcycle is against the rules, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“You decided to ignore me, didn’t you.”

“I most definitely did.”

Ari pauses in his steps just a few feet away from the cafeteria entrance—he can hear the murmur of the crowd from where they stand. “What if a supervisor sees me, Carys? Sees us?”

“Well,” Hyojin crosses his arms, “the teachers have pretty much given up on me. And you…” he shrugs, “it wouldn’t kill you to break a rule or fifty.”

Lowering his voice to a harsh whisper, completely aware of the students milling around them, Ari counters, “I punched Ben.”

Responding in kind with a harsh whisper of his own, most likely mocking his supposed beloved, Hyojin bites back, “And people loved it.” He laughs at the flush his words bring to the president, all too easily entertained. “C’mon, prez. You know you won’t actually get in trouble—I say take advantage of the system.”

Ari sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “You’re a horrible influence, Carys.”

“I try.”

And when Hyojin looks at him like… like that, with dark eyes and a smile full of promise, well—

He’s only a man.

“Fine,” he concedes, though a piece of his soul jumps for joy at the idea of another whirlwind ride on the back of Hyojin’s bike. “Do whatever you want.”

“Oh, trust me,” Hyojin laughs, reaching over to pick a speck of dust off of the president’s shoulder and blowing it off his finger, “I will.” And with that, he strolls off, happily sauntering into the cafeteria with the lingering atmosphere of complete annihilation of Ari’s mentality.

It takes a second or two before Ari is following, dignity in tow. He barely makes it three paces into the space when Hyojin stops in front of him, hands back into his pockets. Ari matches his gaze, staring at the large crowd gathered around one wall at the back of the cafeteria.  “I wonder what that’s all about,” Ari mumbles, more to himself than anything.

Hyojin narrows his eyes at the ruckus. “Dunno. But I’ve got a feeling about it.”

“A bad feeling?”

He cocks his head to the side, long fringe brushing past his eyes. “Just a feeling.”

They make their way over to the commotion, the president and his bodyguard, neither of them batting an eye to the dispersion of the crowd in their wake, nor the hundreds of eyes that turn to stare at them.

There are a few gasps, a few muttered words, at their arrival—nothing out of the ordinary. But when they get close enough to see what all the hubbub is about, the reactions are given their world-crumbling context.

On the wall, sealed onto the plaster, is a large poster—listing all of the candidates for the Prom King and Queen.

Ari sees himself immediately, at the top left corner. It’s a candid photo of him, taken during one of his speeches—he’s standing on the stage of the school auditorium, hands rested on the lectern and a microphone by his lips. Underneath the photo reads, ‘Candidate One: Ari Astutia’, and underneath that, ‘The Golden Prince.’ Part of him wants to smile and graciously take the compliment—another part of him wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

He spots a few friendly faces on the poster—Jaime and Maki and a good scattering of familiar seniors, all pretty well-known and well-liked. (Unsurprisingly; considering the nature of the whole candidate process.) All predictable. 

Save for one particular underdog.

Right beside his own face… A candid photo of a boy, black hair shaggy and wild, with a smirk on his lips, a red mark on his cheek, and a student trapped beneath his kneeled legs. ‘Candidate Two: Hyojin Carys’, the text reads, ‘The Valiant Knight.’

“Ha!” Staring at the display, Hyojin hides his wide grin behind a hand, eyes creased in the corner from pure amusement. “Oh, fuck,” he says, “This is fucking hilarious.”

Ari pulls his gaze away from the poster to Hyojin, finding a pair of intense eyes already staring at him, grinning, challenging. That gaze—the gaze that has Ari suffering through sleepless nights and an aching heart—runs across his body, almost sizing him up. Like competition. Or a meal.

“The president and his boyfriend,” he hears someone mumble, from within the crowd surrounding them, contesting them against each other—the unexpected package deal; the unexpected rivals.

Hyojin is leaning his head back, ever so slightly, watching the president through long black bangs. Pink lips quirk into a smile, exposing white fangs that Ari has felt clashing against his own teeth. 

“Game on, prez.”

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

Is it my fault that I’m so selfish?

Is it my fault that I crave the unattainable?

Is it my fault that my chest aches at the thought of reality?

Is it your fault that I’ve become this way?

⦗ ┅ ⦘

G.FX 🏹 @xin_feng

I need someone to pinch me

get me off this godforsaken app @YaoMQ
Replying to @xin_feng

whats got your fucking panties in a twist

G.FX 🏹 @xin_feng
Replying to @YaoMQ

I… I think Hyojin Carys was… flirting with me…?

get me off this godforsaken app @YaoMQ
Replying to @xin_feng

pranks are supposed to be somewhat believable, idiot

G.FX 🏹 @xin_feng
Replying to @YaoMQ

It’s not a prank, asshole. Fuck you.

get me off this godforsaken app @YaoMQ
Replying to @xin_feng

I don’t buy it. who the hell would flirt with YOU of all people?

G.FX 🏹 @xin_feng
Replying to @YaoMQ

FUCK. YOU.

get me off this godforsaken app @YaoMQ
Replying to @xin_feng

fuck you too. next time come up with a believable lie

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @YaoMQ

and if it wasn’t a lie?

get me off this godforsaken app @YaoMQ
Replying to @hyojincarys

then you’ve got horrid taste.

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @YaoMQ

offended it wasn’t you instead?

get me off this godforsaken app @YaoMQ
Replying to @hyojincarys

@Ari_Astutia can you delete twitter off his fucking phone

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @YaoMQ and @Ari_Astutia

ouch

Hyojin Carys :)

You can call off this relationship whenever you_

[DLT…]

If you ever develop real feelings for someone_

[DLT…]

Please don’t date anyone else_

[DLT…]

If you need me to leave I_

[DLT…]

If you want me to leave_

[DLT…]

I have a question for you, Carys

im all ears, prez

Do you like being with_

[DLT…]

Are we_

[DLT…]

Are you ever going to wear your tie properly?

lol

I’m guessing that’s a no

my oh my

you’re so smart prez

kiss me

Don’t tempt me_

[DLT…]

No

your loss

⦗ ┅ ⦘

Dyl pickle @broodylanx

Something Shifted when those two started dating…

caden :D @nickiminajstan412
Replying to @broodylanx

who

Dyl pickle @broodylanx
Replying to @nickiminajstan412

You know exactly who I’m talking about caden

caden :D @nickiminajstan412
Replying to @broodylanx

its hyojin and ari isnt it

Dyl pickle @broodylanx
Replying to @nickiminajstan412

Who tf else 

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

I heard through the grapevine that you’ve become more social.

Why did I have to hear it from the grapevine, and not you?

Am I not worth mentioning things to anymore?

「 march 21 | thursday | 4:22pm 」

“Ow!”

If there’s one thing Ari is painfully aware of when it comes to Hyojin Carys, it’s that the man holds no bone in his entire body that hesitates to inflict pain. He wonders, sometimes, if Hyojin is more of a sadist than he lets on.

He’s being pulled down, now, by his ear—Hyojin’s slender fingers are tugging him down the five inches between them, right at the door of the student council room. They were just about to leave, and now, Ari finds himself leaning awkwardly to his side, with Hyojin staring at his ear with the same intensity a lion regards its prey.

“You,” he starts, grip unrelenting, “have… piercings.”

Ari blinks, trying his best to manoeuvre his body into a way that isn’t snapping his spine in half. “I… yes?”

From his peripheral vision, he sees Hyojin’s frown deepen. “I never noticed… I’ve never looked at your ears this close before.”

“Yes, well, I’d question it if you had. ” His ear is starting to ache. “Could you— um— can I have my ear back, please?”

A second or two pauses of no response, before Hyojin gives a little, ‘hm,’ and releases the president from his steel grip. Ari reaches up to soothe his poor ear, fingers pressing against the almost-invisible remainder of a piercing in his lobe.

Hyojin pulls his headphones off of his ears, letting the pair rest around his neck as he raises a brow. “I didn’t peg you for a piercing kind of guy,” he says.

“I’m not,” Ari replies, a little miserably. The mere thought of being pierced makes a shiver run down his spine. “My moms had my ears pierced when I was a baby; probably on a whim, knowing them. I took the studs out in middle school, and the holes just never closed.”

“Even lobes would close up after years of no jewellery,” Hyojin comments, crossing his arms. 

Caught in a lie, Ari averts his gaze, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. “I… Every month or so, I put them back in,” he admits, quietly. “Just for a night. Just in case.”

Hyojin hums. “You don’t like earrings?”

“It’s not that I hate them, it’s just—” He scratches his cheek, finding the words. “I’m the president; I should be setting an example.”

He narrows his eyes. “Studs are allowed.” (He’s read the rules. Doesn’t mean he follows them.)

Ari chews on his lip, finally sighing and pursing his lips into a pout that leaves Hyojin fantasizing. “Fine,” he grumbles. “It’s because the studs are ugly. I don’t want to wear ugly earrings out in public.”

His response makes Hyojin laugh, but he hides the reaction behind a slender hand. “Who’d have thought you were such a diva?”

The president rolls his eyes, and slides the door open to start his trek home.

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

You are the first for everything that matters. My first—I could not have asked for anyone better.

I know that it’s not the same for you. I know that I’m nothing special. But what we have; what you let me have—it’s enough to fool me into thinking I am. Please, let me keep this.

Let me keep this.

⦗ ┅ ⦘

h @hyojincarys

the student council needs to do something about the coffee in their room. tastes like literal fucking swamp water

🌑😎 @makbelline
Replying to @hyojincarys

aren't you literally dating the president? cant you just... ask him to change it?

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @makbelline

if I wanted your opinion I wouldve asked you for it

🌑😎 @makbelline
Replying to @hyojincarys

OKAY DAMN FUCK YOU TOO

princey

the coffee in the council room is shit

Hello to you too, Carys

What a lovely Monday fourth-period we’re having

I’m doing well, and you?

it tastes like ass

and not in a good way

I beg you not to elaborate.

Changing our student-council-coffee into premium is not something very high up on our priority list, unfortunately

it should be

would it kill you guys to invest in nescafe

The coffee we have right now is the same as last year’s

I suppose we just continued with tradition

fuck tradition

If you really hate our coffee that much, perhaps you should consider simply drinking coffee at home

and miss out on spending time with you?

That was

Uncharacteristically sweet of you to say

its fun to play around with the president in the council room

its kinda poetic. corrupting the innocent, yk

sinning in the church.

⦗ ┅ ⦘

Nick N. @nicholasssssz

President ari just ?? fell out of his chair ???? in class ?????????

charlie @cfspring
Replying to @nicholasssssz

hyojin probably did something

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @cfspring and @nicholasssssz

now why would you say that

charlie @cfspring
Replying to @hyojincarys and @nicholasssssz

did you do something?

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @cfspring and @nicholasssssz

yeah i did something

Nick N. @nicholasssssz
Replying to @hyojincarys and @cfspring

Case closed!

princey

so

your shit coffee

Fine

I’ll see what I can do about the ‘swamp water’

stalking my tweets, are you?

Nothing of the sort

im sure, sweetheart

⦗ ┅ ⦘

Nick N. @nicholasssssz

President ari just fell out of his chair….. again……..

charlie @cfspring
Replying to @nicholasssssz

@hyojincarys ?

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @cfspring and @nicholasssssz

my bad

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

Sometimes I dream of holding you.

My mind will never forget how your skin feels on mine.

You are relentless in my memory.

princey

on a scale of one to ten

how elaborate can i make my prom outfit

According to whose scale

On mine, seven

On yours, probably two

so no going shirtless?

No

youre depriving a man of his pleasures

What pleasures.

yours

of seeing me shirtless

If you arrive shirtless we will, in no doubt, be kicked out

is that a challenge?

For the love of god

see, i don’t really love god all that much

Please

I beg you

Wear a shirt

well

since you asked so nicely

i’ll consider it.

:|

Two on the scale, Carys

Two.

「 march 23 | saturday | 2:15pm 」

Hyojin swears he’s only here for the free food.

That’s what he’s telling himself as he stands in a boutique, three hours into a shopping trip with the two most irritating twats on the planet—Jaime and Maki. One of them is bad enough. Both of them at the same time, and Hyojin’s halfway to a lifetime behind bars.

He wonders, briefly, if the sushi buffet they gave him for lunch was even worth it. (His bank account says yes, but his current migraine says no.)

“What about this one?” Jaime asks, holding up a baby blue blazer against his body. There are white stripes on the sleeves and pink flower details on its back—and while Hyojin tiredly agrees that it suits Jaime to perfection, his own fashion sense screams at him to tear the damn thing apart.

“Too much going on,” Maki answers from across the store, searching through the various types of shoes they have on display. (Seriously, who in their right fucking mind spends half an hour deciding between two pairs of black shoes?) “One pattern only, Sol.”

Jaime makes a groaning noise, throwing his head back in dramatic flair. “But only one will be so boring!”

“Hey—you got to pick the colour theme,” Maki retorts, pointing a finger an accusatory finger. “I get to limit you to one pattern. Fair’s fair—a deal’s a deal.”

Putting the horrendous blazer back onto its rack, Jaime pouts, mumbling, “I should’ve gone with Jinnie instead.”

“Fuck off,” Hyojin says, from where he lounges on the store’s stupidly fancy leather couch, staring off into space. “I would’ve turned you down anyway.”

“That’s mean!”

“It’s supposed to be.”

“You wouldn’t choose me over Ari, then?”

Hyojin narrows his eyes at Jaime, like he’s just claimed the earth to be flat. “Why would I? I’m not in love with you. ”

“I’d be sad about that, but it’s hard to be mad when you’re being so cute about it.”

Across the small store, Maki paces off into the dressing rooms with an arm full of suits, apparently having finally narrowed down his options. At the sight, Jaime resigns from his own decision-making, plopping down on the couch next to Hyojin.

He’s draped an arm around Hyojin’s back, as overly familiar as always. “I thought this was gonna be a fun little shopping trip for us three,” he says, “but you’re not buying anything.”

“You two are going together,” Hyojin answers with a sneer. “I was just fucking dragged along.”

“Going together as friends,” Jaime adds.

Hyojin rolls his eyes. “Sure. Whatever.” Certainly, he’s got no reason to be in the Hell loop that he finds himself in—there’s no need for him to ‘go prom shopping’; he can simply throw something together from his expansive wardrobe and be done with it.

“So you and Ari are going together?” 

This guy never shuts up. “‘Course we are,” Hyojin answers, shrugging.

“Are you guys gonna match your outfits too?”

Hyojin thinks about the picture Ari had sent him this morning—a red colour, somewhere between dark mahogany red and a deep crimson. Hyojin’s got about twenty different outfits with that single colour. He’s set. (And he’s sure, undoubtedly, that the president would look divine in that colour, too.) “Yeah.”

With an amused hum, Jaime leans his head onto the back of the couch, the small braid by his nape popping out from behind his unruly curls. “You guys are seriously adorable. My favourite couple.”

“I’m sure we are.”

From the hallway of dressing rooms, the pair hear Maki calling for Jaime—he responds to the call with a bounce in his step, hopping off the couch and bounding off to find his best friend.

Though he’s not alone in the store, with the two employees milling about, Hyojin takes in a deep breath of peaceful air, rolling his neck in an attempt to stretch his headache away.

On the left side of the store, where Maki had been inspecting shoes for different levels of shininess, Hyojin spots a small glass display case, by itself. He can’t see what it holds from where he sits—so he hops up, cracks his neck once, and strolls over.

As it turns out, it holds a few pairs of beautiful earrings. And he doesn’t use that word lightly—beautiful. But he thinks he can call these by the word, and he thinks he means it completely.

The details all look unique in a handcrafted way; coloured in something resembling antiquity. There’s one pair in particular, up at the right corner, that catches his eye. A pair of silver dangling earrings—a small orb at the top, a vibrant yet translucent red that seems iridescent through the glass, with a carved feather beneath it, symmetrical and sharp, almost like a dagger.

It would look enchanting against tan skin.

Before he can spend any longer staring at the jewellery and imagining it peeking out from behind brown curls, Hyojin’s attention is brought back to the two idiots in his company when they exit the dressing rooms, dressed to the nines.

Maki, wearing a flower-patterned shirt with the top three buttons loose, underneath a tux made of muted pink. And Jaime, posing next to him, wearing a matching set—a plain dress shirt, top three buttons useless, underneath a flower-patterned tux. They’re both wearing gold-framed sunglasses, and they look like glorified shower curtains.

It suits them both to a horrible T.

As they check themselves out in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the side, Hyojin debates approaching them and admitting he knows who they are. Jaime makes a noise of approval, holding his chin between his thumb and pointer, nodding like he’s some fashion connoisseur. 

“What do you think, Jinnie?” Maki asks, pretending to fix his suit cuffs in some sort of pathetic pose. 

“Why the sunglasses?” Hyojin says, more a judgemental comment than a question.

“It’s a fashion statement!” They both defend, at the same time.

“It’s stupid, is what it is.”

Maki shrugs, running a hand through his black hair. The bleached ombre has really grown out—he ought to dye it all back to black. “I think it’s the perfect cherry on top. What do you think, Sol?”

With a wide grin, admiring the embroidered flowers on his suit, Jaime pulls Maki in by waist, knocking their hips together and pointing a finger gun at the mirror. Their height difference makes it a little awkward, but Hyojin supposes they’ve grown comfortable with it, what with their however many years of sitting on top of each other. “I think we’re hot shit.”

“Shit’s definitely an adjective I’d use,” Hyojin mumbles.

He rolls his eyes when Maki pulls out his phone and starts filling his gallery with pictures of himself and Jaime posing in their new suits, completely oblivious to the giggling of the two store employees watching them.

It’s going to be a long, long day.

⦗ ┅ ⦘

☀️😎 @jaimzoen

So proud of Hyojin. Going to prom. Being an official prom king candidate. Matching his suit with Ari. He’s gotten so far. I feel like a mama hen. So happy for my boy

🔥luce @VOlucANioN
Replying to @jaimzoen

yeah im sure mr resorts-to-violence-at-any-given-moment is a real sweetiepie 😒 

☀️😎 @jaimzoen
Replying to @VOlucANioN

Give him some credit! He’s not as bad as you think

friendly neighbourhood medium 👻 @reitattsk
Replying to @jaimzoen and @VOlucANioN

yeah but carys is kinda scary still. just me? like did everyone just forget he was literally dragged into a cop car the first day of school???? didnt he like put a dozen guys in the hospital??? i dont get why everyone just seemed to forget that

⛓️🩸☠️🕸️ @JETBLACKWINGS
Replying to @reitattsk

@saipsi see! other people think he’s suspicious too!!

SK @saipsi
Replying to @JETBLACKWINGS 

I don’t care. 

⛓️🩸☠️🕸️ @JETBLACKWINGS
Replying to @saipsi

I will admit though, he is a little cool… do you think he would join us in our quest to defeat DARK REUNION?!

SK @saipsi
Replying to @JETBLACKWINGS

Like I said, I don’t care. Stop tagging me in things.

〔 CARYS FILES 〕

I think I would have fallen in love with you, in every universe.

Maybe, in one of those many, you would have fallen in love too.

Maybe, in one of those many, I wouldn’t find you so cruel.

「 march 26 | tuesday | 5:11pm 」

‘2024 Prom King’ are the words staring Ari in the face as he sits at his desk, laptop open and screen bright.

He’d been unintentionally putting off casting his vote for almost two weeks, life simply getting the better of him and taking advantage of his overworked brain. With the voting officially closing by the end of the schoolweek, reminded so generously by an email from the school, he'd jumped onto his laptop to get the job over with.

When he scrolls down from the title, he's met with his own face first, and that shameless title. ‘ The Golden Prince’, they're calling him. Even more shamelessly, they've not only put his face and title on display—they've written him a description. 

‘Our beloved school president and highschool heartthrob,’ he reads, miserably, guiltily, face half-hidden in his hand. ‘With his heart of gold and his windswept hair, Ari Astutia needs no introduction, though we've given him one anyway. The boy with the beautiful smile, always first to lend a helping hand and encouraging words—the one you take home to mom. Kind, intelligent, and handsome: the perfect Prince Charming… or the perfect Prom King.’

He thinks he'd rather not be a candidate at all. (Which is, of course, a useless wish. Having his name in the hat was inevitable.) Although he's well aware of his reputation, seeing it laid out in words for him makes it all the more… surreal. Confronting. Unbelievably embarrassing. He feels narcissistic just looking at the screen.

He scrolls up, completely disregarding the opportunity to vote for himself, and is met with a sight that puts his mind at ease: Hyojin.

It’s a different photo that they’ve used for him—perhaps one deemed more appropriate than something captured mid-brawl.

It’s a photo taken in a classroom of Hyojin sitting at his desk, angled in a way that leads Ari to believe someone in the front row of the class had taken it sneakily during a lesson: he’s leaning back in his chair, with a pen mid-twirl between his slender fingers, headphones wrapped around his neck, and his hair’s all charismatically messy, a few strands brushed away from his face to reveal his left eye, side-eyeing the camera with a knowing smirk.

Truly, it’s the perfect capture of a mysteriously broody highschool bachelor—and Ari can’t believe he gets to be placed before him, in any sense. ‘ The Valiant Knight’, they’ve made Hyojin’s title, much to Ari’s pleasure and agreement. 

‘The wild card of our candidates, who crashed into our lives with a dangerous glint in his eye,’ Ari reads, the description much more flattering when it’s about someone else, ‘Known for his fists, his relationship with President Ari Astutia, and—more recently—his quiet chivalry, Hyojin Carys is the boy who appeals to those on the wilder side of life. If bad boys are your thing, take a chance on this gentlemanly transfer student shrouded in alluring mystery.’

He almost laughs at the descriptions, the phrasing of them. It all makes it seem much more dramatic than a highschool prom title, though he appreciates the intensity with which the juniors have thrown themselves into the night.

Hyojin stares at him through the screen, rogue handsomeness drawing his heart out. (Those eyes—those damned eyes.) He doesn’t bother looking at the other candidates. He clicks the VOTE button beneath Hyojin’s picture, with determination and complete certainty.

You are voting for:

‘Candidate Two — The Valiant Knight, Hyojin Carys’

|          Yes           |          No           |

⦗ ┅ ⦘

Cath🎧 @Magicath 

#Carystutia for Best School Couple

alex @alexblackwood
Replying to @Magicath

@mollyparker we could beat them

Molly @mollyparker
Replying to @alexblackwood

I love you, but no. No we could not.

DIONYSUS WELCOMES YOU

Jaime Solis added You and 4 others

Jaime Solis renamed the chat ‘DIONYSUS WELCOMES YOU’

Hyojin Carys :)

im surprised you know who dionysus is

Jaime Solis

[The Cult of Dionysus — The Orion Experience]

Hyojin Carys :)

that makes more sense

!Lucio Pyrra

?

what is this

Hyojin Carys :)

a group chat, genius.

!Lucio Pyrra

😒

i’m guessing its hyojin behind that number, considering the asshole attitude?

Hyojin Carys :)

and considering the lack of intelligence

youre lucy

!Lucio Pyrra

don’t call me that

Hyojin Carys :)

oh no im so scared

how dare i anger the discord mod

!Lucio Pyrra

I WILL FUCK YOU UP

Amir Zimi

Hey guys !! New gc? (((o(*°▽°*)o)))

!Lucio Pyrra

hey amir 👋

Hyojin Carys :)

lol

!Lucio Pyrra

.

@ jaime dude whats up w the gc

why are we here

Jaime Solis

Yuki needed me to make it for him since I have all your numbers!

!Lucio Pyrra

and maki wanted to make a gc with us because…?

Maki Hino

IM GLAD YOU ASKED

Hyojin Carys :) left the chat

Jaime Solis added Hyojin Carys :) to the chat

Hyojin Carys :)

fuck you.

Be nice, Carys

Hyojin Carys :)

in your wildest dreams, prez

!Lucio Pyrra

oh great

the lovebirds

That’s

Um

Hyojin Carys :)

lmao

Maki, you were saying?

Maki Hino

my wonderful gentlemen

and amir

Amir Zimi

(o_ _)ﾉ彡☆

Maki Hino

you may be wondering, “WHY AM I IN THIS CHAT?!?!?!?!”

Jaime Solis

You may be wondering, “WHY THIS GROUP OF PEOPLE?!?!?!?”

Maki Hino

WELL!

SOL AND I

Jaime Solis

YUKI AND I

Maki Hino

HAVE

Jaime Solis

AN

Maki Hino

ANNOUNCEMENT!

Hyojin Carys :) left the chat

Jaime Solis added Hyojin Carys :) to the chat

Hyojin Carys :)

we dont need a fucking dual act performance

get to the fucking point before i block your numbers

Maki Hino

sorry sir

Jaime Solis

sorry sir

Announcement?

Maki Hino

IM HAVING A PROM AFTERPARTY !

Hyojin Carys :)

so?

Maki Hino

youre really mean when you want to be man

He’s not too bad

Amir Zimi

A knight in shining armour! (っ˘ω˘ς ) How cute

Maki Hino

but yeah its at my place right after prom

YOURE ALL WELCOME!! THE LOT OF YOU!!

!Lucio Pyrra

is this any different to your thousand other parties?

Maki Hino

ehh not really

still open to anyone pretty much

yeah now that im thinking about it

its just like all my others

but this one is after prom!

Why the group chat, if it’s an open-door event?

Maki Hino

good question, sir!

‘Sir’?

Maki Hino

bc youre the president

Ah

Hyojin Carys :)

lmao

sir

Stop

Maki Hino

anyway, i wanted to make personal invitations to my friends 😻

and the Star Couple of the school 

[shaquille o neal kiss.gif]

We’re not the ‘Star Couple’ of the school

!Lucio Pyrra

and im not in love with amir

Amir Zimi

What

!Lucio Pyrra has left the chat

「 march 30 | saturday | 6:03pm 」

“Well, if it isn’t Candidate Number Two.”

Hyojin rolls his eyes at the nickname Minerva greets him with at her front door, but he laughs nonetheless. “Is that an insult or a compliment?”

“It can’t be both?”

“ Is it both?”

“Is the sky red? Is Lana Del Ray a bad singer? Are we heterosexuals?”

With a smirk and a snort, Hyojin shakes his head. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Minerva’s face brightens with a smile. “Everything’s a compliment to a boy like you, huh?”

“It makes life interesting, Mrs Astutia.”

She shudders, making a face. “That makes me feel so old. I thought I told you to call me Minerva.”

Hyojin only laughs. “The last time we met, you talked to my bike more than you talked to me. You probably told it to call you Minerva, instead.”

“Potato, potahto,” Minerva dismisses, stepping back from the door and letting Hyojin enter. “Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Tea?” She pauses. “Pregame?”

“The last one’s tempting, but I think your son might have a fit if I drive under the influence. I’ll take a coffee, if you’re offering. Strong.”

“My kind of guy,” Minerva chuckles, guiding Hyojin into her house—through the hallway and into an open area, a kitchen-dining-recreational space all mixed into one. “Cold brew alright?” she asks, as Hyojin leans against the back of a couch to not disturb his outfit. “I’ve got some in the fridge.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

With a wink, Minerva clicks her tongue. “You know it.” The stairs to the second level sit between them and the hallway they’d just come through, and Minerva takes a moment to call out on her way to the fridge, “Ari, your boyfriend’s here!”

Hyojin’s caught smiling at the introduction as Aissatou comes skipping down the stairs, clad in a sweater he can only assume is of some anime he doesn’t know. “Hi, Hyojin!” she greets, eyes down at the steps. When she looks up to pull him into a hug, a loud gasp escapes her, and she covers her mouth with a manicured hand. “Oh, mon ange, you— you look…”

His ego swells at the twinkle in Aissatou’s eyes as she looks him up and down, and he takes the chance to do a short turn, displaying his elaborate outfit. (The agreement was two on the scale, but between each number of Hyojin’s sits increments of tens—and Ari? Well, Ari never stopped to think about that.)

A mahogany-red bodysuit, framing his chest in a deep V, sits atop a sheer black top—his compromise between the much-too-modest dress code and his not-so-modest style. One of his corsets, red and decorated with silver gemstones, hugs his waist with a curtain against his hips—an open-skirt situation perfectly accompanying the chain-adorned black boots that he’s been dying to show off—and a singular epaulette sits on his right shoulder, gleaming silver with ornate design and chains, draping over his chest and around his neck. He’s braided some strands of his hair back to show off the shimmering silver and red gems hooked into his ears, and he’s shelved his headphones for the night.

“Stunning?” he asks, posing for his greatest judge, “Show-stopping?”

“Gay,” Aissatou answers, completely seriously. “You look—gay.”

Hyojin grins. “Mission accomplished, then.”

“You do look great,” Minerva compliments, handing off a tall glass of cold brew to him and keeping one for herself, “but I have to ask.” He takes a sip of the coffee as she squints her eyes, looking him up from his boots to his hair. “How the hell are you riding with a skirt on?”

The coffee’s good. He chuckles, then uses a hand to wave the fabric of his skirt-cape.“For long skirts like this, I kind of just… wrap it around. Like a sash. Tuck it into itself—fixed.”

Minerva hums, pouting as she thinks. The holographic ball pierced into her cheek rotates, like she’s twirling it with her tongue. “I’m imagining it,” she says, “but it looks kind of… stupid. Unless you’re some sort of hypnotic, I don’t know how you’re gonna go about rocking up to the venue with a skirt-sash. Not as dignified as this look.”

With a shrug and a cocky smile, Hyojin winks at her. “Trust me, when you dress like this and have these looks, you pick up a trick or two.”

She stares at him.

He stares right back.

“You’re gonna park around back and make a grand entrance, aren’t you.”

“I’m gonna park around back and make a grand entrance, yes.”

She laughs, hearty and loud. “I like you, Hyojin, I really do.”

Speaking her mind aloud, Aissatou taps on her chin and diverts the conversation. “I wonder what’s taking Ari so long…”

“It’s a big night for him, Aya, you know how he is. He’s probably fussing over every little detail—second-guessing everything; debating on what cologne to use; pacing in his room, listing out all the possible scenarios tonight will bring.” She sips her coffee. “The usual.”

Hyojin snorts. “My best guess is that he’s…” He hums, finding the most Ari-like reference his mind can make. “Silently panicking in his room, fiddling with his hair, trying to make sure it’s perfect.”

Minerva makes a whistle of approval, nodding at the thought exercise. “Good contender, good contender… I’ll bet money that he really is debating on colognes,” she says, finalising her decision.

“Don’t make bets on the poor boy,” Aissatou lectures, bumping her shoulder with her wife’s. “But he’s definitely brushing his teeth for the third time tonight.”

“Can I call out for him?” Hyojin offers. “See if it speeds things up?”

Minerva holds out a hand, shrugging. “Be my guest.”

Clearing his throat a little, Hyojin steps up to the front of the staircase, leaning on the wooden handrail and facing up to the second level of the house. “Oi, Prom King!” A loud cacophony of cluttering items echoes throughout the house, and Hyojin has to stop himself from laughing. “You’d better get down here quick, or you’ll miss your coronation!”

By the sound of the echo, Hyojin assumes his prom date has holed himself in the bathroom as he yells back, “The votes aren’t out yet! And I’ll— I’ll be down in just a second!”

“Are you re-brushing your teeth?”

A pause. “No?”

Aissatou bursts out with a short laugh, flipping her braids off her shoulder with proud elegance. “You two had good guesses, but I know my baby better than anyone.”

“Well,” Minerva rolls her eyes, “tell your baby to hurry his ass up, or he’ll be late to his last prom. And we can’t have that—he’ll spend the entire night sobbing into his pillow about it.”

“I’m not that dramatic.”

Ari makes his entrance via cautious steps down the staircase, fingers fiddling with the cuff of his suit jacket and ears bright red with a flush.

Hyojin watches him descend, almost as if in slow-motion, all dolled up and pretty.

His brown hair has been styled to effortless waves framing his defined features perfectly, looking as soft as Hyojin knows it is—and it seems, not only have the pair managed to colour match perfectly, but they’ve managed to unconsciously agree on a ‘gem and chains’ thread: Ari’s suit jacket, something more out of a royal wardrobe than a modern tux boutique, is accessorized by delicate silver chains and a collar brooch that leaves Hyojin wondering if the Astutia family secretly has ties to the British monarchy. And he’s wearing a cape—a cape, the disastrously handsome bastard—attached to silver epaulettes on his broad shoulders, making him look all the more dreamy.

Not that he needs the help. Not at all.

When he stops, only two steps above from where his prom date stands on the ground floor, he smiles down at Hyojin, with those soft pretty features, a body sculpted by the gods, and an endearingly bashful personality to top it all off…

Yeah.

Hyojin really gets it.

Hyojin really, really gets it.

All those people wishing they could date the school president. He’s the lucky one, just being near enough to seem it.

The regal look suits him, Hyojin thinks. He looks like he belongs in the middle of a ballroom, twirling around with light feet and a dashing smile, backdropped by a pathetically sorrowful serenade from an orchestra. The poster boy for prince charmings.

Does that make Hyojin a princess? A damsel in distress? Maybe it makes him a knight in the background of the court, strangely familiar with the prince behind closed doors, hiding behind stolen glances and grazing fingers.

He’ll play those roles.

He’ll play any of them.

If it means spending eternity having Ari look at him the way he does now.

[to be continued...]

Chapter Text

Ari :) @Ari_Astutia

After weeks of planning, the much-anticipated event has finally arrived! Juniors and Seniors, tonight is your chance to leave your worries aside, make countless memories, and bear witness to Principal Adithan's spectacular dance moves. Remember to share a sincere thank you to the committee for all their hard work :) We'll see you all there ❤️

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @Ari_Astutia

wow, prez. not even gonna share the other picture we took?

Ari :) @Ari_Astutia
Replying to @hyojincarys

What picture. I have no idea what you’re talking about.

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @Ari_Astutia

…

Ari :) @Ari_Astutia
Replying to @hyojincarys

Please don’t

amir! @MIMIMIZIMI
Replying to @Ari_Astutia and @hyojincarys

hyojin i will pay you to share that pic 人(_ _*)

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @MIMIMIZIMI and @Ari_Astutia

deal

Ari :) @Ari_Astutia
Replying to @hyojincarys and @MIMIMIZIMI

CARYS

⦗ ┅ ⦘

h @hyojincarys

behold, the picture prez was too scared to share. 

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @hyojincarys

@MIMIMIZIMI i take cash

amir! @MIMIMIZIMI
Replying to @hyojincarys

THJS IS TE BEST THIGN IVE EBER SEEN THAK YU SO MCUY

☀️😎 @jaimzoen
Replying to @hyojincarys

You guys are adorable!!!

🌑😎 @makbelline
Replying to @hyojincarys

ARI BABYGIRL AGENDA

🔥luce @VOlucANioN
Replying to @hyojincarys

I’m saving this

Ari :) @Ari_Astutia
Replying to @VOlucANioN and @hyojincarys

NO

⦗ ┅ ⦘

Ari :) @Ari_Astutia

I regret everything.

h @hyojincarys
Replying to @Ari_Astutia

love you too, sweetheart.

「 march 30 | saturday | 6:40pm 」

After almost half an hour of posing, of being pulled around by Minerva and Aissatou like a pair of dolls and keeping their limbs frozen until the cameras stop flashing, Hyojin and Ari can finally breathe. 

They’re outside now, on the driveway, staring out at the sun setting behind suburban rooftops. A short moment of serenity before they jump into the lion’s den.

Hyojin crosses his arms against his chest, sneaking a glance at the president standing beside him. That sunkissed skin, glowing in the orange rays of the sunset—his handsome side-profile, roman nose and full lips and soft eyes; his gentle hands, flawless knuckles and soft palms and slender fingers; his perfect posture, broad shoulders and tapered waist and prominent Adam’s apple.

He really does look every bit the royal heartthrob; every bit the bombarded-by-countless-confessions Golden Boy. (Hyojin wonders, faintly, where he would be if he hadn’t found refuge in that empty whiteboard unit.)

“Truly,” he mumbles under his breath, running his gaze across the president’s body, “All out.”

Ari laughs, a fidgety hand on his nape and a red flush on his ears. “Yeah, I… I suppose I wanted this, but—” He sucks a breath in through his teeth. “My ma’s ‘all out’ is a lot… more than mine is. I’m still not sure about this whole… cape situation,” he murmurs, slender fingers fiddling with the translucent fabric draped across his arms.

“No, it suits you.” Hyojin’s answer is a little too quick for him to play it off, and he’s glad that Ari’s mind is much too preoccupied with his own troubles to notice the stutter in Hyojin’s confidence. “You look very… princely.”

With a snort, Ari raises a brow. “Princely?”

“If a prince was trying and failing to hide that he’s a vampire, that is.” 

Ari hums, staring down at himself. “I’m not sure this colour suits me as much as it does you.”

“It’s beautiful on you,” Hyojin tells him, a soft smile on his features. “Really.”

Ari’s chest aches at the words. He tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear, but it just falls right back in front of his eyes. “Thank you,” he mumbles. There’s a heat building across his entire face, and he thinks the tips of his ears are about to explode. “I was afraid it would be… too much.”

“Prez, you really underestimate your grip on these idiots. I’m pretty sure you could show up in jeans and still have people kneeling before you.”

He’s learnt how to take compliments over the years, but never to ones so… mystifying. So Carys that it hurts to breathe the same air the words float around in. So he lowers his head, and does what he always finds himself doing in the presence of Hyojin—he tries not to drown in the joy. “That might be… well, it might not be that much of an exaggeration, but—”

“But nothing,” Hyojin interrupts, grinning up at him with pearly fangs. “Tonight, you’re the prince they all think you are. Except this time,” he threads his fingers between Ari’s, lifting their conjoined hands up and pressing a chaste kiss on the back of Ari’s knuckles, “you’re not looking for any suitors.”

He thinks he feels his lungs deflate. “Let me prepare for the night. Mentally.” His eyes drift away from their hands, analysing the floor beneath his feet. “I don’t think tonight will be as intense as Valentine’s, but it— well, it might still be… a lot.”

Hyojin smiles against his knuckles, humming. “You’ve got me tonight, prez. I’ll be in my shadows—if you ever need a break, yeah?”

“You’ll be all alone in a corner, brooding and mysterious?” Ari laughs, unconsciously tightening his grip on Hyojin’s hand—who either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. “But then all our efforts would be for naught.”

“I might not be a criminal in their eyes anymore,” Hyojin shrugs, “but it’s not like I’ve become a celebrity overnight. All the spotlight will be on you, sweetheart.” He winks. “Give ‘em a show.”

「 9:48pm 」

Hyojin was wrong.

Hyojin was dead fucking wrong.

Yes, he’d planned on a grand entrance. Yes, he knew people would at least look—he’s got the president on his arm, for fuck’s sake. Yes, he expected they would turn heads when they walked into the venue, fashionably (half an hour-ly) late.

What he did not, under any circumstance, expect, was people to approach him—him—all night long; asking him useless fucking questions like how the punch is or how much he paid for his outfit or what he thinks of the music the DJ is playing. He’d lost sight of Ari a mere ten minutes after their arrival, and was left to his own devices and his own painfully chatty companions.

He supposes the last few weeks were building up to this. All the students randomly talking to him in the hallways, or in his classes. But he’s not a social butterfly in the slightest—more of a socially exhausted moth, if anything—and he’s tired.

How Ari does it all day, every day, he’ll never understand. He doesn’t even try as hard as the president does—he hasn’t even tried to make a fake smile, or anything like that. He insults people, and he makes snide remarks, and he’s not a good person. Turns out, when people’s opinions change, so do their demeanours.

And Hyojin finds himself lost in a gaggle of teenagers hoping to make his acquaintance.

This is not what he asked for when he agreed to Ari’s deal.

Which is how Hyojin finds himself stumbling out of the venue halfway through the night, nursing a raging migraine and shuffling through empty hallways. He finds a rotunda around the back of the building, a greek sort of structure resembling the Maitland Monument, alone in a courtyard, overwhelmingly compelling to his introverted instincts. He takes a seat at the top of the marble steps, and finally feels like he can breathe.

“Carys?” He turns his head slowly, not at all surprised by a welcome voice. The president rounds the corner, eyes wide and curious, and it’s all very Pride-and-Prejudice-proposal-in-the-rain-scene. “What are you doing out here?”

Hyojin lets a humourless laugh fall out of him, gesturing for his prom date to sit down next to him. He does. “Same thing you are.”

“I thought you’d enjoy something like this. Is it any different to Archambeau?”

“Archambeau is filled with paying customers that have some level of maturity,” Hyojin answers with a heavy sigh, leaning back to brace his arms on the marble behind him and craning his neck back. “A highschool prom feels like a daycare centre compared to it.”

When Ari chuckles, the cold air turns his breath into white fog, falling out of his pretty lips and dissipating into the air. Hyojin doesn’t even stop himself from watching it—it’s been a long night. He deserves some indulgence. “You’re not having fun tonight, then?”

He shrugs. “Not really my thing.”

Ari smiles, genuine and divine.  “It’s not mine either.”

“Y’know,” Hyojin says, staring up at the starry night, “When I helped you pack up all that Valentine’s shit out of your locker, I thought it was ridiculous. Half of me thought you paid someone off to flood your locker with fake gifts, to make you seem more popular than you actually were. But then I watched you, for the rest of that day, and realised what was happening. I watched you reject dozens of people, and never lose your polite smile. It was infuriating—I wanted to punch them all on behalf of you; I felt annoyed just watching it happen. And then… well, then I kept noticing it, after we… started our plan.” He can feel Ari’s eyes on him. “It’s like you’re some sort of prize that they want to win. Like they think their lives will be amazing after getting you—I’ll bet half my fucking savings that ninety percent of ‘em don’t even know how much it tires you all out.”

“I hope they don’t,” Ari replies, a gentle amusement coating his words. “After all, I’ve tried so hard to make them all feel sincere. To not hurt their feelings.”

“That’s what makes you a better person than me.”

“I think we’re both good. Just in different ways.”

“You’re as good as they come. You might not be as superhuman as they say you are, but—well, you’re damn near close,” Hyojin tells him.

Then he laughs, to himself, like he's just thought of something stupid and great at the same time.

“Never in my fucking life would I have thought I’d be relating to you, of all people, but. Here we are. Just two highschool celebrities escaping the clutches of our insane fans.”

Ari laughs at that—with his chest; with his eyes. Unfiltered, all giggly and crackled. Hyojin could listen to it all day. “You’ve only had this for a few weeks,” he says. “Imagine several years of it.”

“I’ve had enough to last a goddamned lifetime. They can go back to grovelling at your feet now.” 

“Having people grovel at your feet sounds like something you’d enjoy much more than I would.”

“Well,” Hyojin smiles, “Only some nights.”

They fall into silence in the afterglow of Hyojin’s retort, relishing in the serenity of their world—just the two of them, for a moment, for as long as they can indulge.

Hyojin reckons now’s as good a time as ever.

“Hey,” he starts, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small pouch made of black velvet. Ari turns his attention away from the sky and back to his prom date, eyes soft and attentive. “So, we didn’t do that corsage thing.”

“No, we didn’t,” Ari nods, “but that’s okay. Pretty as they are, I don’t think flowers would have suited our whole… look.” He laughs at his own comment, shrugging one shoulder. He keeps a careful eye on the pouch in Hyojin’s fingers, though he doesn’t comment.

“I got you something else,” Hyojin says. “I think it’ll look better on you than a flower bracelet.”

“Oh?”

He opens the pouch with nimble fingers, pulling out its contents and laying it on his hand, open between the two of them. 

It’s an earring, captivating in a sense that Ari thinks suits Hyojin more than himself. The silver sits against the lines of Hyojin’s palm, the rustic look of it matching the calluses on the mounds of his hand. And the red sphere in the middle—alluring, like a precious gemstone—it reminds him of Hyojin’s eyes.

His eyes catch sight of the movement when Hyojin reaches his free hand up to his own hair, tucking the soft strands behind his ear, showing off his elaborate jewellery choices of silver and red—and there, hanging from the lobe of his left ear, sits the companion of the earring in his hand.

“It’s certainly beautiful,” Ari says, watching the way the red marble seems to reflect the moon’s light; the way it seems to glow with an ethereal luminescence.

His breath catches in his throat as Hyojin lifts a cautious hand, slender fingers grazing against the gap between Ari’s ear and his scalp, brushing a few strands away; tucking them behind.

He says nothing, dares not even to breathe, as he watches Hyojin reach up with his other hand; as he watches that devilishly handsome face concentrate, staring just past his own gaze; as he feels nothing but a slight pinch—and then pale hands are retreating, palms empty.

“Yeah,” Hyojin mumbles, no louder than his own breath, “beautiful.”

Ari loses himself in the atmosphere; drowns in the air between their noses, mere atoms apart; submits his consciousness to the eyes before him, deep brown, enticing red, dried ink on old parchment. Hyojin’s lower lashes are almost as long as his others, he notices—long and thin and clumped to pretty little triangles fluttering against the slight puff of his undereye.

One of those thin lashes has fallen, laying against the porcelain of Hyojin’s cheek, calling Ari’s name like a siren’s song. He answers the call, lifting a hand, only slightly aware of what his body is doing when he presses a finger against the lash, collecting it on his fingertip, letting it blow away with the night air; a slight breeze between their faces.

I could kiss him, Ari thinks, very faintly, the little voice in the back of his mind. He could. It would be so easy—all he’d have to do is lean forward, barely even an inch, and let himself go. 

Hyojin would let him.

He knows he would.

He knows it.

And some foolish part of him, searching into dark brown eyes behind pretty lashes, thinks that Hyojin wants it as much as he does. That Hyojin wants him, just as much. That he’s more than a plaything; more than entertainment to pass the time; more than a nice little side-benefit of a grand plan.

But he knows better than that.

He wills himself to move away, to pull back from the water’s edge, averting his gaze to the ground. It’ll hurt too much to look back at Hyojin; it’ll hurt too much to see an unchanged expression. “I think the… Prom King announcement is soon,” he says, under his breath, struggling to pry the words off of his tongue. “We should— head back.”

Standing up to his full height with such an urgency he almost loses his balance, Ari gathers himself, combing back his hair with a careful touch, trying to ignore the hitch in his breath when his fingers knock against hanging silver. He takes a few long strides down the few steps, out of the structure, and stops a few paces into the courtyard, repeatedly opening and closing his fists like they’ll help calm his nerves.

Hyojin stays where he sits, a deep inhale at the remaining space in front of him, sighing into the cold night air. He closes his eyes and creases his brow; tries to calm himself down.

Reluctantly, if only slightly mercifully, he glances over his shoulder at the president. A broad back faces his gaze, though he barely has to squint to see the unmistakable red flush on tanned ears. 

He sighs again, takes a moment to reset himself, and hops onto his feet. When he passes by his prom date, he slaps on a prize-winning smile and burns the sight before him into his memory: Ari, standing out in a courtyard in the dead of night, staring at him with that painfully human longing in his brown gaze, illuminated by the soft moonlight, all princely and presidential and perfect, wearing his earring.

“After you,” he offers, refusing to comment on the desperation of Ari’s expression—the pleading eyes and pouted lip. “Your Majesty.”

「 10:01pm 」

By the time they make it back to their table inside the venue, one of the round tables in the inner circle of the formation in the room—three circles of tables, all centred around an empty space in the middle of the ballroom, a makeshift dancefloor for the braver attendants—they find that they’re cutting the time too close for comfort.

Everyone is seated when they enter, a few conversations halting as curious eyes watch the infamous couple stroll in—together, alone, having just snuck away from the main event.

Ari hasn’t got the time to deal with his embarrassment, knowing that all the eyes on them have the same idea of a not-so-secret almost-certainly-steamy rendezvous, and shuffles into his seat with burning ears, making a point to not watch as Hyojin sits down on his right.

“You guys made it just in time,” Amir says in a hushed voice from his left, elaborate rings jingling about when they wave their hands excitedly by their chest. “They’re about to announce Prom King and Queen.” 

Lucio narrows his eyes at his best friend across the table, chin placed stoically on a fist. “Do I want to know what you two were doing?”

“Don’t phrase it like that, Luce,” Ari shoots back, his blood vessels committing a grave sin against him by blooming red across his ears and cheeks. “Nothing happened, we just— we were just talking.”

“Uh-huh,” Lucio says, face blank. “Nice earring, by the way.”

A knowing smile spreads across his damned face when Ari’s hand shoots up to fiddle with the dangling jewellery by his ear, sputtering out an excuse about a corsage or other.

“Shh! Shhzhh!” comes the voice of Jaime, sitting beside an irritated Hyojin and a giggling Maki. “It’s happening!”

Sure enough, up on the stage in front of them, across the empty space and up on a platform flanked by intricate flower decorations, Principal Adithan stands a few steps away from the lectern, chatting with some of the staff for a moment before he saunters over with the confidence of a man who’d just dominated the dancefloor an hour prior. 

“Good evening, Juniors and Seniors of Ignis Academy,” he starts, met with a loud clamour of cheering and clapping. “I do hope you’ve been enjoying yourself thus far; I certainly have. I’d like to take a moment to thank the student council and the Prom committee for all their hard work leading up to this event—it was time very well-spent.”

He starts another round of gratuitous claps, everyone following suit. Ari catches sight of Roxanne sitting at a table on the other side of the floor, her smile bright and wide and proud. Cooper is next to her, and he’s got a smile too, slightly more muted, but undeniable. Ari’s chest swells at the sight.

Principal Adithan’s speech is one of sentimentality, made up of mentions of hard work and celebrations and the importance of relationships. He talks about journeys and where the road leads from here, one last memorable night for the seniors before their graduation, and the starting line of the juniors into their final years; talks about the effort and costs of the night, and that he hopes it blew them away, and challenges a few students—by name—to a dance off later in the night, and Ari thinks he even hears Hyojin’s laughter next to him throughout it, and everything is all worth it, just for this, all of this.

“And now comes the part that you have all, undoubtedly, been waiting for me to get to,” he says with a hearty laugh, pushing his square glasses up his nose bridge as he holds up a white envelope in his hand, showing it off to the crowd. “In this envelope is the name of your official 2024 Prom King.” The cheers come back louder than before, Jaime even going so far as ‘whoop’ -ing and Maki joining him with a fist in the air. “Yes, yes, keeping you all on your toes,” he laughs. “So, without further ado…”

He unfolds the envelope with careful hands, a man for the dramatics of life, teasing the crowd with a flourish when he pulls out the note. He reads the name on the card, and his grin widens, covering half of his face, his cheeks pushing his glasses up his nose.

“The votes are in,” he says, his voice the only sound within the entire ballroom. “And it’s a tie!”

At the words, the room erupts in the excitement of promise: more drama.

Ari casts a quick glance around the room, seeing students turning to their friends with hands covering their mouths, and others breaking into quick-thinking-theories. He wasn’t necessarily expecting the title himself—but with the tie, he can’t help but wonder if he’s made the cut… and who might have made it with him.

“Juniors and Seniors, your Prom Kings of 2024,” Principal Adithan calls out, calming the crowd down to hushed whispers. “Ari Astutia and Hyojin Carys!”

Half a second passes, of pure shock, before Ari turns to his side, gaze meeting with wide brown eyes. 

Hyojin has that wonky half-smile of his painted on his features, mouth slightly gaping with an amused laugh. Incredible.

“Holy shit,” Hyojin mumbles, before the crowd around them bursts into a cacophony of cheers.

And holy shit is right.

Hyojin managed to make the cut— Hyojin Carys for Prom King. 

A spotlight finds its way to the pair, and Ari can’t even muster enough consciousness to look at the stage—he’s too busy staring at Hyojin, and the way he looks with a spotlight on him, and the way his eyes puff up when he grins.

“If I could ask you two to make your way up here onto the stage,” Principal Adithan says, a lilted tone to his voice. “To accept the crown together.”

Hyojin is the first of them to stand up, and he holds out a hand for a still-gaping, still-frozen Ari. Hyojin laughs at the sight, his hand pressing against Ari’s chin to close his mouth. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he says, before reaching down, grabbing Ari’s hand in his, and pulling them through the dancefloor to the stage.

The cheers that follow them are nothing Ari’s not used to, but it feels different this time—it feels euphoric. Because he’s sharing the applause with Hyojin; he’s sharing the spotlight with Hyojin. They’re seeing him—they’re finally seeing the boy they refused to see.

When they reach the stage, Principal Adithan is waiting with open arms and a wide smile. He pulls them both in for a hug, murmuring a warm congratulations to them. The king’s crown sits on a podium at the front of the stage, in front of them, glittering in the spotlights.

Principal Adithan invites them both to make a speech, or at least say a few thankful words. Ari looks over at Hyojin beside him, who gestures for the president to step up to the challenge—and Ari won’t turn that down; he looks at Hyojin’s face, the soft smile and gentle eyes behind the tough exterior, and he won’t turn it down.

He steps up to the podium, and the crowd quiets for his voice.

He glances down at the crown beside him, half-smiling at it. “I think it might be a little too on-the-nose for the school president to be crowned Prom King,” he says, “is it not?”

The students laugh at his introduction, smiles filling Ari’s eyes and keeping his heart beating. Somewhere from the crowd, between all the laughter and cheers, someone yells out, “We love you, Ari!” and he can’t help but laugh.

“I will admit, I am incredibly flattered to be standing here tonight,” he says, completely in his element, a natural behind the mic, “Thank you to those who voted, or maybe even considered me—and I have no doubt that the ones who did vote for me believe, very kindly, that I deserve this.” He looks out to the crowd, across the room, and catches hundreds of faces smiling back at him. “But I also have no doubt,” he continues, “that this crown belongs to someone else. Someone who I admire very, very much. He was my vote—and I’ll ask that you forgive me for being a little biased.” 

He turns on his heel, glancing over his shoulder, to a wide-eyed Hyojin standing a few steps beside him. The spotlight suits him well; he looks every part the man he is, on the stage.

“Hyojin Carys, you deserve this crown. For your growth, your perseverance, and your heart—no matter how much you claim not to have one.” Hyojin blinks at him, brows raising ever so slightly. “I met you in January, and you were someone who kept his head down—someone I knew nothing about, other than your name and your reputation. By February, I knew everything about you I needed to, and I wanted everyone else to see the truth as well. It’s now March, and I finally hear people talk about you the way you deserve to be talked about—praised, loved, and respected.”

He doesn’t care about the crowd anymore; he’s looking right at Hyojin, and Hyojin is looking right back at him, and his eyes are beautiful, and a red globe sitting atop a silver feather gleams in the light, and Ari feels a thousand journal pages painting the walls of his heart; his chest; his mind.

“You've shown me the depths of hardship and unrelenting strength—you do the things others are afraid to do, and you do them with the purest intentions. I strive to be someone like you; someone who looks fear in the eye and decides to take on the responsibilities anyway. I know that this crown and this title might not mean much to you, knowing the person you are, but I hope that you’ll take the sentiment all the same—I admire you greatly, and this crown may just make you finally believe how many others admire you too.”

The crowd watches as he picks up the crown with both hands—a golden crown with a simple fleur-de-lis design and a few silver gems. He takes a step toward Hyojin, smiling down at him, holding the crown between them.

“I believe this belongs to you, Carys,” he says, when he’s away from the mic; when it’s just the two of them. “You really have come so far—thank you for letting me tag along for the journey.”

Carefully, gently, he lifts the crown and places it on its rightful owner, letting his fingers brush a few black strands away from Hyojin’s face, guiding them along to frame his cheeks. Hyojin stares up at him wordlessly, inky-black eyes searching Ari’s.

“It suits you,” he says. “Your Majesty.”

Hyojin opens his mouth to speak, but his voice is drowned out by the clamour of noises from the crowd—cheering, shouting, Ari thinks he hears sobbing, and the flashes of cameras. He can only laugh at it for a moment before all the noise funnels down to a chant, something agreed upon by the masses: a continuous, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” that echoes through the entire space.

The command leaves Ari with heat on his cheeks, scratching at the back of his neck. A smile refuses to leave his face, no matter how embarrassed the situation has him, and he mutters a few words here and there into the mic of cliches and inappropriate actions, though all his arguments are rebutted by louder chants.

He even shoots a look at Principal Adithan behind him to try and get an authority onto it, but the damned man just smiles and shrugs.

Ari’s barely turned away from the principal when he feels a hand spreading across the expanse of his lower back, and before he knows it, he’s being pulled in by his waist, his body flush with Hyojin’s. Fangs tease him through a grin. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he hears Hyojin shout over the chaos. “Let’s give ‘em what they want.”

A laugh falls out of Ari’s lungs, his throat closing up on him when he feels the familiar heat of Hyojin’s lips close to his. He’s flustered beyond repair, seeing stars circling his head. “I didn’t think you were such a people-pleaser.”

“I’m not,” Hyojin argues, bark and bite and beauty. “I’m pretty selfish, actually.”

And then his lips are on Ari’s, irreversibly; finally; spectacularly .

Ari closes his eyes on instinct, focusing on the sparks and blooms of colour behind his eyelids, in the forefront of his mind.

They’ve kissed in public before, multiple times over, but never like this—never on a stage, with people cheering them on, like there are fireworks behind them and doves being released.

After what feels like finally teetering on the edge of too-long-to-be-appropriate, Ari forces himself to pull back, only a fraction, his lips still brushing against Hyojin’s.

He’s so close to those eyelashes again—those eyes. (He really thinks Hyojin could kill him a thousand times over with his eyes.)

“I…” Hyojin breathes out, the word more a blow of hot air against their lips than actually verbal, “Ari, I—”

“Oh!” Ari catches Hyojin’s crown as it falls off his head, his body falling out of the embrace. He turns back to Hyojin, places the crown back on his head, and smiles—but he’s averting his gaze; refusing to meet Hyojin’s eye. “I’ll, um—” He inches back, towards the staircase at the end of the stage, and clasps his hands together. “Congratulations, again, Carys. Really.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and walks off of the stage, all damningly perfect posture and confident stride. Hyojin steps forward, “Pre—” But he’s pulled back to the side by one of the teachers, told to stand and wait for the next announcement and to take pictures, and he’s too late to throw the crown away and run out of the spotlight.

Principal Adithan’s build-up to the Prom Queen announcement is muddled to Hyojin’s ears as his eyes search around the dark crowd, barely able to make out the faces—but there, on the side of the venue, behind all of the tables, he spots a broad back and a regal cape.

His brow furrows as he watches Ari hide behind the shadows, as he sneaks back out of the venue.

He just barely zones back into reality in time to hear the name of this year’s Prom Queen.  “—for 2024, students, is… Jaime Solis!”

What.

To all of Hyojin’s horror and dismay, Jaime squeals as the spotlight hits him in the crowd, jumping up and almost tripping out of his chair with a grin that takes up half of his face. Maki is up on the table now, clapping and cheering like a madman as Jaime jogs up to the stage.

No, seriously. What.

「 march 31 | sunday | 12:32am 」

On the top floor of the Hino mansion, Hyojin watches over his shoulder as Amir takes a swan-dive off of a man-made cliff, straight into the pool on the ground level. 

The crowd of students watching them lose their minds with drunken cheers, clapping their hands and waving around their bottles of cheap alcohol. Hyojin’s gaze follows Amir’s body through the water, popping up right in front of Lucio, sitting at the edge of the pool, and splashing him with a wave before pulling him into the water. 

He wonders if he’d be right there with them, laughing his ass off at Lucio’s flustered face and drenched clothes, if the night had turned out differently. But instead, he’s up on the top floor, surrounded by students milling about and greeting him in passing, by himself for the most part.

He’s spent the last two and a half hours keeping an eye out for Ari, having lost sight of him after the King-and-Queen extravaganza—he’d bolted out of the venue at the exact moment he was finally allowed to, only to find an empty rotunda and no sign of the president in the areas of the building he had access to. And after being dragged to Maki’s afterparty—him and his bike shoved into a party bus with grabby hands and over-familiar grins—he’d spent his precious time running around Maki’s stupidly elaborate mammoth of a house in an attempt to find a pair of brown eyes.

It’s ridiculous—he’s at a party with free alcohol, for fuck’s sake, and instead of drinking all his troubles away, he’s searching through dark rooms for his boyfriend-who’s-not-even-really-his-boyfriend.

Some part of him knows, deep down, that there’s a high chance he’s searching for a guy who isn’t even here. Knowing Ari, he’s probably at home, taking a nice long shower and lamenting over his troubles. But there’s the little chance, the little what if, that keeps Hyojin searching.

He does find a brunette in what seems to be a mix between a living room and a theatre—but it turns out to be the complete opposite of the person he’s looking for. With his long limbs draped half over the couch and half over Maki’s lap, upside down and delirious, Jaime swings his Prom Queen crown around his finger, calling out when Hyojin passes by.

“C’mover here, Jinnie!” he beckons, voice warbled and pitchy. “W’playin’ poker!”

“Blackjack,” Maki corrects, his glasses hanging off of one ear and his face covered with a heavy Asian flush.

Hyojin bites the inside of his cheek as he walks over, leaning on the back of the couch and staring at the cards laid out on the large coffee table in the middle of all the seats. “Those are UNO cards.”

With an incredibly slow blink, Maki looks at the table, then back at Hyojin. “Are they? Wow,” he laughs, shaking his head and grinning, “I didn’t even notice—did you notice, Sol?”

Jaime lifts his head like it’s a weight, squinting at the stack of cards in his hand, facing outwards from him. “P’yeah,” he drawls, falling into a fit of giggles. “Tha’s funny, Yuki, tha’s funny.”

The room’s only occupied by the two of them—three, now—and Hyojin bets that it's entirely on purpose; a mutual agreement from the party-goers to leave the two idiots to their own insane mess for an hour or two. “Yeah,” he rolls his eyes, “very funny indeed. Have either of you seen the prez?”

Two pairs of drunk eyes stare at him blankly, and he thinks he might murder someone soon.

“The president,” he clarifies, with a heavy sigh. “Have either of you seen him, tonight, at this party?”

“Ohh,” Jaime gurgles out, before rolling off of Maki’s lap and onto the floor with a thud.

There’s a moment of silence between the three of them before he finally gets up, tilting a bit to his left. Hyojin notices, rather delayed, that Jaime and Maki’s suits have swapped—the pants included. He decides he doesn’t want to know. 

“Saw ‘ri a bit ago,” Jaime says, pointing up like he’s trying to search his brain for the memory. “Uhh, few min’ts? Maybe? H’passed through ‘ere…” He turns around in a circle, squinting his eyes at every door and threshold leading out of the room—seriously, the house is a fucking maze—and pointing to one, decidedly. “N’there.”

And then he promptly falls over, back onto the couch, completely engulfing Maki beneath his massive body. Hyojin thinks it’s like watching a newborn camel trying to rollerskate. “Sure, thanks,” he dismisses, leaving the two of them to their own devices and making sure to close the door behind him.

He’s met with a lush and lavish bedroom, complete with its own sitting area by a wall-to-floor window, really smacking Maki’s riches right into his face. And he finds Ari in the middle of the room, body slumped over the end of the bed like a deflated balloon man. His cape is lying on the floor beside him, and the top button of his vest is undone. He’s definitely seen better days—but Hyojin is a mad man that sees the sprawled-out mess in front of him and just gets a little voice in his head telling him to do sinful things.

“Jesus, prez,” he mumbles as he crouches down and hauls Ari up onto the bed. “C’mon, up you get.”

Ari stirs, like he’s caught between awake and asleep, and he blinks up blearily at the man grappling his body. “...Carys?”

His voice is low and gravelly and husky, like he’s just woken up, and Hyojin’s head twitches away, the whisper by his ear a little too much to handle. “Yeah, it’s me. What’s up with—”

He pauses there, grabbing the president by his shoulders and pushing him back a little. His eyes are unfocused, and there’s a red flush across his face and neck, and his head is leaning to the side like it’s too heavy for him to hold up.

“Are—” Hyojin huffs out a laugh, both amused and concerned at the unbelievable sight before him. “Are you drunk? ”

Ari frowns. “Not drunk,” he replies, with an adorable pout. “Maybe… tipsy. Not drunk. I have… alcohol in my system. Did you know that alcohol is disgusting? It’s disgusting. It tastes like cough medicine but worse. It burns my throat.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons people like it so much.”

“I hate it.”

“Well, now you know. Congrats on not being like the other girls,” he shuffles some pillows around and guides Ari’s body to rest against them, holding back on all the urges that tell him to put his hands in place that aren’t appropriate. “How much did you drink, huh? What’d you even put in your mouth?”

“I don’t know,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning against the headboard. “Jaime just… handed me a bottle of something. I wanted to try it. I didn’t like it. It tasted—”

“Horrible, yes, I know. You didn’t like it. You’re circling, prez.” He glances around the room, which seems to be left in a rather clean state—surprising, considering the mayhem outside. Maybe the two dimwits outside had acted like involuntarily guards for the place.

Eyeing the room for any source of water, he spots a clear bottle on the coffee table in the seating area by the window. He marches over, grabs it by the neck, and barks out a laugh when he reads the label.

Straight vodka.

Ari’s insane.

He takes another look at the bottle, and notices it’s still basically full. Not only is Ari insane—he’s also an extreme lightweight. And if his previous knowledge tells Hyojin anything, this is the first time Ari’s ever had alcohol past perhaps a tiny sip of a fruity cocktail—and he’s not sure it bodes well.

Hyojin makes his way back over to the bed, leaving the criminal of the scene on the table, and watches as the president unceremoniously falls onto his side, rubbing his face into the pillows like a kid wanting five more minutes of sleep.

His hair’s all messed up and scruffy, and his suit is being creased with such carelessness Hyojin can practically hear future-Ari’s complaints about it.

Present-Ari is currently fighting a losing battle with his own clothes, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “It’s hot,” he’s babbling, brows furrowed together and lip jutted out. “It’s too hot. Carys, it’s—”

“Hot, yes, it’s hot. I got that.” Hyojin sighs with his entire body, pressing against his temple. Ari’s all hot and bothered, splayed out on a bed, and is mumbling weirdly-commanding requests for Hyojin to help undress him.

Hyojin seriously deserves an award for his self-restraint.

Ari’s fingers are still fumbling with his vest, and he’s frowning down at his clothes like he has a personal vendetta against them. “Here, let me just—” He bats Ari’s hands away, guiding them to rest on the sheets as he takes care of the buttons himself in an effort to let Ari breathe easier, or at least make him more comfortable.

Then he loosens the president’s tie, mentally kicking himself in the ass for the thoughts that arise when Ari murmurs his approval at the action, and undoes the top two buttons of his dress shirt. The red flush on Ari’s face and neck travels further down, all the way past his collarbones—and Hyojin thinks he can literally hear God just giving up on him.

“You are seriously the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” Hyojin tells a half-conscious Ari. “And the best. God, you’re so fucking annoying.”

With great willpower, Ari pulls himself upright, his hair all messy from the pillows and his eyes glazed over when he tries (and fails) to glare at the man sitting on the bed in front of him. “That’s not very nice,” he lectures. Hyojin scoffs—even intoxicated, the man upholds his presidential values.

“I’m not a nice person, prez.”

“That’s not true,” Ari argues. Then he pauses, eyes looking away at nothing in particular. “Well… maybe you’re mean sometimes.”

Ah, so he’s an honest drunk. Hyojin could definitely work with that. But he won’t. Damn Ari and his influential moral uprighteousness.

“Why am I annoying?” Ari asks, looking down at his open hands, lying on his lap, like he’s trying to figure out how to move them again. “Do you really think I’m annoying?”

Hyojin sighs. Again. He’s been doing way too much of that lately. “You’re not annoying, prez. Not in the way you think, anyway. You’re frustrating sometimes, and you can downright fucking dumb, but it’s…” It’s fine, because I’m a fucking idiot that fell in love with you anyway. “It’s fine. Because as frustrating and dumb as you are—you’re worth all the trouble, Aristotle.”

Ari makes a face. “My name isn’t… Aristotle.”

“No? Just Ari, then?” Hyojin makes himself comfy on the bed, knowing he’ll probably be there for a while. Maki can complain all he wants about shoes being on the sheets later. “I thought it’d be fitting for you to be named after some philosopher.”

Ari shakes his head adamantly, the brown waves swishing by his forehead in a beautiful mess. He fixes his posture ever so slightly and raises a finger, like he’s teaching. “Ar,” he starts.

Hyojin gets the gist. “Ar,” he repeats.

“Ruh.”

“Ruh.”

“Stay.”

“...Stay.”

“Yuhs.”

“Yuhs.”

“Aristaeus,” he says, with a satisfied nod.

Hyojin smiles. “Aristaeus.” He can’t exactly round out the vowels as well as the president can, but the smile on Ari’s face tells him he’s done a good job anyway. “Aristaeus Astutia.”

“It sounds so nice in your voice,” Ari mumbles, eyes half-lidded and mouth half-smiling. He leans back against the headboard and pillows, resigned to being a blissful gooey mess of a man. He breathes out a long sigh, running a hand through his waves, pushing them back and staring at Hyojin through his half-closed eyes.

He grins—it’s all lopsided, and all handsome-prince-committing-a-grave-sin-with-his-knight-turned-secret-lover, and Hyojin wants to take a thousand pictures for a new lock screen.

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in a mesmerising rhythm. “You are…” 

“Infuriating?” Hyojin provides.

“So pretty,” Ari says. “You’re really… you’re so pretty.”

And—well, Hyojin’s gotten compliments before, has received praise from dozens of pleasured mouths, but this… It feels like he’s just heard something he wasn’t supposed to.

Ari is watching him carefully, brown eyes considerate and kind, and he’s halfway on his way to becoming a tomato costume, and Hyojin feels…

Hyojin feels like he's a traitor.

“I’ve thought so, ever since— ever since I tied your tie for you, that first time,” Ari continues, a hand reaching out to trace a finger along the dip of Hyojin’s collarbone. “Do you remember that? When I… I pushed your hair away, because I wanted to see your face, because it was always covered, and I— I saw your face for the first time, and I thought, ‘Wow, he’s, just, so… so perfect.’”

If Hyojin wasn’t sure the president was tipsy before, he definitely knows for sure now. “Prez, you’re—”

“And when I saw you at work, too, you were…” His hand is roaming free now, a palm cupping the side of Hyojin’s jaw, a thumb brushing against a pale cheek. “You were breathtaking, I swear. I thought it was—unfathomable. That I could see you like that. I was… I kept thinking, he is so beautiful, and I kept wondering why you kept yourself so hidden, but I— and then I kept… hearing myself, thinking, I don’t want anyone else to see this. I don't want anyone else seeing you like this. Isn't that ridiculous?"

Past the sound of his own wild heartbeat in his ears, Hyojin thinks he can hear the party raging on outside and through the floor. It does nothing to calm him down.

“I meant everything I said on that stage, Carys. I meant it all. You are so much… so much more than they will ever know, and I—” Hyojin presses a finger against Ari’s lips, cutting him off.

Ari barely blinks an eye before he’s holding Hyojin’s hand in his own, cradling it in his fingers, laying a deep kiss to a callused palm and breathing in the scent of highschool mishaps.

His chapped lips pressed up against Hyojin's palm feels almost ticklish, like sparkling water through his entire nervous system. It takes all of Hyojin’s willpower not to jerk his hand away; not to melt under the affection.

He squeezes his eyes shut, all of his instincts yelling at him that he’s a fucking idiot. “Stop. I can’t— You can’t tell me this shit, not while you’re…” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you’re going to regret this come tomorrow morning, so just— don’t. Alright?”

He thinks he’s done a good job with the silence, but Ari just stares at him with those handsome fucking eyes again, golden flakes beneath long lashes, and his lips are all chapped against Hyojin’s palm, and Ari’s fingers are circling his wrist, bringing it down, and his stupid fucking Greek God face is inching closer to Hyojin’s, and Hyojin can practically taste the fucking vodka from Ari’s breath with their proximity, and then, despite all of his efforts… Ari kisses him.

Ari is kissing him—he’s tipsy, and he’s got his hands spread against Hyojin’s back, and he’s pulling Hyojin in, his lips pushing and pulling like a wave of intoxication and temptation. There’s tongue— there’s fucking tongue —and Hyojin doesn’t know whether he should thank or curse himself for his fucking offer of practice, however long ago.

He shouldn’t be doing this—he shouldn’t be letting this happen.

But the feeling of Ari’s lips on his again, it massages out all of the coils in his stomach, relaxes all of the kinks in his back. Ari’s kissing him again, and he’s back in his bedroom, with a stupid bruise cream plastered across his cheek, and they’re both so warm, and perfect, and melodic.

The one time he tries so, so hard to practice self-restraint, and Ari fucking throws this at him. When all this is over, he’s seriously going to murder this guy a thousand times over. He’ll shut him up with duct tape and make him sit and listen to an alphabetized list of his wrongdoings. But for now—

For now, he falls prey to the rhythm of their bodies, pressed together on a bed that probably costs more than his rent, and he revels in the small gasps Ari lets out when Hyojin gives better than he takes—when he pulls his body forward, resting his knees on each side of Ari’s body, pressing into the plush mattress and ivory sheets.

His momentum pushes Ari’s body back, resting onto the headboard again; head rolling back against the linen as his hands find their home in the dips of Hyojin’s waist, broad hands on silk fabrics. A woeful sound crawls its way out of the president’s mouth, coaxed out of his chest with gentle hands along his neck—along his cheeks, callused palms cupped against his jaw, drawing his body closer.

He’s so warm beneath Hyojin’s hands, so perfectly placid and pliant. Hyojin’s never prided himself in having a grand amount of impulse control—and he’s never been one to deny something so grand. “Stop,” he says between breaths and clashes of lips, knowing he lacks the strength to stop it himself, “you’re drunk, prez, you have to— we need to—”

Ari’s lips part slightly to make way for his thumb, pulling down a plump bottom lip and sighing into the space. “Don’t want to.”

Hyojin nearly groans at the words, his mind a muddle of pleasure and misery. Despite himself, he cracks open his eyes to catch a sight that has his heart beating out of his throat. Ari is looking at him with absurd earnesty, cinnamon brown eyes staring right through him, drowning him in desires. The thing about his eyes—between the golden flakes, behind the idyllic glaze—that thing of haunting truth and painful sincerity . Hyojin remembers admiring it; remembers utilising it.

And now he’s sitting in the president’s lap, on a bed in the midst of a party, with vodka in the air, broad hands on his waist, and pearly white teeth pulling on his lip. The world has come to its inevitable end—all because Hyojin gave in to his stupid homosexual tendencies.

“God,” he sighs, more breath than word as Ari’s hand guides his chin higher, chapped lips peppering kisses against the supple skin of his jaw, travelling down his neck and along his collarbone. “Where the hell did you— learn all this? You’re— fucking— killing me over here—”

Either Ari doesn’t hear him, or doesn’t care enough to reply, because Hyojin is left breathless and cathartic when that elegant hand winds its way up to his hair, reaching up and pulling out the silver hairpin holding up his two braids. Lips are on his neck and fingers are running through his hair and the air in the room feels so thick he just might choke on it.

Ari’s fingers dance through black strands, combing out the braids and following their fall, brushing against pale cheekbones and a slack jaw. A thumb presses against the underside of Hyojin’s chin, a palm spread across the entire side of his neck, and he lets Ari manoeuvre his face to the side; lets Ari press a deep kiss against his neck, in the dip between his adam's apple and his collarbones.

He thinks back to a locker full of plushies and love notes; thinks back to flower bouquets and bashful whispers in the hallways; thinks back to seeing people watching with twinkles in their eyes and love flowing out of their hearts. He thinks about the student body president—the most eligible bachelor of their idiotic school; the most sought-after boyfriend, picture-perfect and textbook-chivalrous…

Their golden prince, with Hyojin in his lap. Gripping the plush of his thigh. Pushing up into his hips. Manhandling his face. Kissing his neck. And this is it—this is how he leaves the mortal goddamn realm.

Hyojin Carys, nineteen, found dead after being kissed by Aristaeus fucking Astutia.

“Prez—”

“Ari,” he corrects. Hyojin’s chin is brought back to face the president, and he can’t tell if he’s letting it happen, or if he just doesn’t have the power to argue. “You called me… Ari, before.”

He takes in the sight of Hyojin’s lips—plump and swollen and wet, and runs his thumb along the soft red skin again, glossy against his fingertip. 

“Say it again,” he whispers. “Please?”

“Ari.”

His pupils dilate as he finally looks up, into Hyojin’s gaze, soft brown turning dark beneath long lashes shimmering with drowsy tears. It’s really no wonder Ari has lived his entire high school life fending off admirers—Hyojin revels in the sight before him, the school president with a red flush across his cheeks, brown hair all messed up to desperate perfection, lips parted and bright red and lustrous; he breathes in the atmosphere, the reality of sitting in Ari’s lap with hands roaming his body, telling him what to do without needing a single word.

In a single fell swoop, one irreparable, idiotic move, Ari surges forward, connecting their lips in a show of all the words his brain refuses to say—all the affections he refuses to succumb to; all the desires Hyojin wishes he would give in to.

Gentle hands are all over him, leaving trails of fire along his clothes, sparks beneath his skin. It’s getting harder to breathe—the corset he’s wearing tightens against his ribs, like it’s suffocating him in the heat, restricting his stomach from doing the flips it wants to.

Ari’s palms run along the expanse of his body, against the valley of his waist and the plush of his thighs, red fabric creasing with the grip of dextrous fingers, slowly inching their way up, and up, and up, and—

“Fuck, Ar— ” Hyojin slams his hands down on top of Ari’s, holding them in place, right at the apex of his inner thighs, entirely too curious for a bed that belongs to neither of them. “Hold on a fucking second, prez. This is—” he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to cast his mind to anything other than the hands doing unholy things to his body and mind; anything other than the man who owns them.

He sighs in the tiny space between them, mind weak as he rests his forehead on Ari’s. “Carys…” God, his voice. His goddamn fucking voice. Those goddamn fucking eyes. That goddamn fucking face. These goddamn fucking hands. This goddamn fucking boy.

“You’re drunk, prez, this isn’t—”

“Not drunk; tipsy—”

“You’re tipsy, ” he groans, half-laughing at the absurdity of it all. “You’re tipsy, and you’re insane, and you’re— you’re— Fuck, I don’t even know if you’ll remember this shit in the morning. I don’t know if I even want you to remember it, this is all so—”

“You don’t like it?”

A broken sound cracks out of Hyojin’s mouth, bordering on the sound of a sob. Taking in a shaky breath, Hyojin tightens his grip on Ari’s hands, knuckles going white. “God, you are so fucking— you have no idea what you’re doing to me.” Ari’s out of his goddamn mind right now. And that not how Hyojin wants this—not with Ari. Not with someone who deserves to be nothing less than cherished. “I can’t believe I’m the one saying it, but this needs to… to stop.”

He closes his eyes again, refusing to meet Ari’s gaze—he knows he’s much too weak to fight it. He buries his hands beneath Ari’s, releasing his thighs from the grip, and the little devil on his shoulder screams into his ear at being a stupid fucking idiot who’s passing up one of the greatest chances of his entire life.

But nonetheless—nonetheless, his conscience wins, and he knows he needs to stop this. He knows that if he won’t, things will go hazy and red and dim, all at once, and there’ll be too many consequences come the morning.

He tries to pry himself off of Ari, which proves to be a lot more difficult than he thought when Ari’s grip holds him in his lap by his waist. (Who the hell allowed God to give Ari brains and brawn?)

It takes him all his strength—more mental than physical at this point—and when he finally manages to swing himself out of the position, he ends up teetering too far to his side and falling off the bed, landing with an unceremonious oomph on his back.

He lies there for a second, contemplating all of the life choices that could have possibly led him to the current moment. Where did it all go wrong? What got him here? His fists? His homosexuality? His undiagnosed but alarmingly-prevalent daddy issues?

Covering his face with his hand and hiding a heavy sigh, he brushes his hair out of his face and stares up at the ceiling. His chest is heaving, trying to compensate for the loss of breath, and his whole body feels like a fucking firework.

Ari leans over the side of the bed, poking his head out and looking way too cute and pure and innocent for what he just fucking did. “What are you doing down on the floor?” he asks, eyes still glazed over, but significantly less dark. “You should come up on the bed. It’s a lot comfier than the floor, I think. There are pillows on here.”

Some part of Hyojin is glad that he’s reverted back to babbling, and another part of him grieves the whole experience ending.

He throws a hand out against the bedside table to help lift him up off of his pitiful little nap, life flashing before his eyes when the handle gives and pulls out instead—but then he takes a look at the suspect, and has to blink twice to realise what he's looking at: a minifridge hidden as a bedside table. Decked out with snacks, bottles of water, and what he recognises as a supply of hangover drinks.

Sending a quick mental thanks to Maki’s family for their crazy determination to be the best hosts of every event, he gracefully gets back onto his feet and snatches a bottle of water, cracking it open and chugging half the bottle. It calms him down about ten percent.

Then he reaches in and throws one to Ari, thankful he doesn’t even have to tell him to drink—the president’s out of it but conscious, catching the bottle and immediately downing the entire damn thing. 

“Careful,” Hyojin warns, tilting the bottle back down with two fingers to keep the idiot from choking himself.

Ari looks up at him from where he’s sprawled out on the bed, head lolling back to rest against the headboard. There’s a goofy grin on his features, cheeks puffing up and eyes curving. “Have I ever told you,” he says, “that I never want this to end?”

Hyojin doesn’t know what to say to that. 

“I write about this, you know. About you, and us.” He takes Hyojin’s hand in his, staring down at pale skin as he speaks, like he’s allowed to be bashful after the events of the night, brushing his thumb against the back of Hyojin’s hand. “I write little— I write things, I scribble them all down. Sometimes I can fill up pages and pages in one go.”

He drags Hyojin in slightly, gently, and Hyojin hesitates to follow the pull… but does it anyway. Standing at the edge of the bedside, watching as Ari reaches up and wraps his arms around a corset and a waist. 

“I could write a whole novel,” he mumbles, cheek pressed up against Hyojin’s chest. “Just about you.”

His voice grows quieter with each word, his energy depleting as he sighs and lets his limbs relax.

“All about you.”

And then he goes limp. 

Hyojin has to catch him as his limbs fall, holding Ari up against his own chest. He checks that Ari’s still breathing, and he thinks he hears the beginning of a snore. It makes him sigh—the situation, the scenario, the entire fucking night.

Then he braces a hand against Ari’s nape, presses a kiss against his forehead, and falls in love, just a tiny bit more. “Alright,” he says, patting the arm still wrapped around his waist. “Let’s get you home.”

[to be continued...]

Chapter Text

「 march 31 | sunday | 6:22am 」

The thing about Hyojin being an insomniac is that he isn’t really an insomniac.

But lately, it’s almost like he’s actually become one. Sure, he’s pulled a couple hundred all-nighters before, and had the occasional difficulty of sleeping, but it’s never been like this. It’s never been this real.

He’s lying on a bed in the guest bedroom of the Astutia household, staring up at the ceiling, and he’s been looping the events of the night, over and over and over—pausing it at moments, just to remember the hazy look of Ari’s eyes; just to angst over the villain named vodka; just to reminisce on the feeling of Ari’s lips tugging at his own; just to kick himself in the shin for not being a little bit more of a bad person and taking advantage of the situation.

After Ari flat-out fainted on him after riling him up, Hyojin had piled those long limbs onto the back of his bike, not even bothering to glance at the people watching him haul his unconscious boyfriend out of a party, and drove him home. Minerva had been awake—maybe waiting, Hyojin supposes—and had taken one glance at her son, laughed, and pulled them inside.

‘It’s too late for you to drive out again,’ she’d told him, after taking Ari’s lanky body from him and balancing him against her shoulder. ‘Just stay over tonight.’

It wasn’t much of an argument after that. She’d dragged both of them upstairs, dumped her son in his bedroom to deal with later, and shown Hyojin the bathroom and the guest bedroom, to use for the night.

Then she’d handed him a pile of Ari’s clothes, and by the time he’d finished wallowing in the shower like Batman, he’d caught a glimpse of Minerva tending to Ari in his room with such a tenderness to her face that it almost to hurt to look at.

He’d closed himself up in the guest bedroom after that, telling himself not to disturb the moment, and that he’ll have enough time in the morning to thank her.

Then he spent the next five or so hours pitying himself.

Which is nothing new, of course, but tiring nonetheless.

Last night had been nothing short of a fever dream—and Ari’s really testing Hyojin’s limits. Has been, for weeks now, but last night he’d hit the mark, right in the centre of Hyojin’s chest.

If the same opportunity had been given to him a mere month and a half ago, he would’ve jumped at the chance without hesitation; he would’ve taken everything he wanted from Ari, leave nothing left but a night of foggy memories, and he would’ve happily walked away from it all with his goals met.

Instead, he’s found himself participating in this stupid thing called ‘being in love’, and it’s really fucking up his whole vibe.

Ari is in the room right next to him, sleeping soundly and peacefully, while Hyojin mulls over scenario after scenario—what to do when he wakes, and if he remembers; what to do if he doesn’t.

It’s like they’ve swapped roles, and it’s so sad that he can’t even laugh at it. The whole thing is a horrible slap in the face, him and his stupid fucking feelings.

It doesn’t help that he’s currently wearing Ari’s clothes. A loose t-shirt with a few wear-and-tear holes in it that slips off his shoulders, and a pair of sweats that he’s had to triple-knot to keep them from falling—it’s a disgustingly domestic thing to think about, but it smells like Ari. He smells like Ari.

He has to stop himself from lifting the shirt and inhaling the scent. He’s been at so many lows lately, and he won’t let himself stoop to this one.

He thinks about a bathroom, a decision to not give a fuck anymore. He thinks about a first-aid kit, and a sober kiss, and his heart beating right out of his chest. He thinks about the president, about Aristaeus Astutia, loving him in all the ways he wants him to. He thinks about an overactive brain, and the consequences of having a conscience, and the fall of humanity brought about by their own stupid morals.

He thinks about a lot of things.

Maybe Ari’s had that effect on him.

In some other timeline, in some other universe, maybe he wouldn’t be taking his time with Ari. Maybe he’d have given into his own impulses, just like he always has before the president got to him, and maybe everything would be a thousand times easier.

But somehow, he thinks, if he had done just that—he wouldn’t love Ari the way he does now.

「 march 31 | sunday | 8:28am 」

It’s no longer a surprise that Ari is the way he is. Organised to a perfect T, committed to a neat aesthetic, obsessed with everything having its own place. Hyojin is realising this now, standing in the kitchen, a victim to his curiosity as he pulls open drawers and gapes at everything having its own labelled container, or jar, or shelf.

He’d come downstairs to see if he could steal some coffee, or maybe pour himself some of the cold brew Minerva had offered him yesterday, but he guesses they ran out. He stands and stares at the coffee machine on the bench now, analysing all of its features and functions and other bits and bobs that he doesn’t recognise.

“Oh—” Hyojin turns at the voice entering the kitchen: Minerva, with pyjamas on, a fluffy headband around her face, and an empty mug of coffee in her hand. “Hi there.”

“Hi. Sorry, didn’t mean to lurk around, I’m just—waiting for the prez to wake up.”

“Waiting… by glaring at the coffee machine?”

“...I wanted coffee.”

“I can see that.”

“But I only have instant at home,” he explains, gesturing to the fancy machine sitting before him. “Not a fucking clue where to start with this.”

Minerva nods, letting an ‘ah’ fall out in understanding, before she makes her way over and switches the machine on. “I’ll make you some,” she offers. “Learn by observation.”

He’s heard that one before.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Black, I guess. I usually just throw a shit-ton of powder into a cup, then pour water into it.”

He gets wide eyes in response. “That’s how you’ve been drinking your coffee? Jesus. That’s— Alright, let me introduce you to a thing called a Long Black.”

Hyojin watches her hands work across the kitchen, grabbing some grinded coffee and pouring it into a metal thing that looks like it could be a weapon. She goes through the motions with an expertise Hyojin can only assume comes from a history as a barista, or an insane coffee addiction.

Only a minute later, she shoves a warm mug into Hyojin’s waiting hands—a hot drink, black with a golden crema sitting on top. He takes a careful sip. “Oh. That’s really good. Thanks.”

Minerva grins at him, dimple piercings sparkling. “You should start dropping by in the mornings; I’ll make you some quality coffee to get you through the day.”

“Might take you up on that.”

“You fit in well here.” Both of them turn at Aissatou’s voice, entering the kitchen with a soft smile and an even softer cardigan. 

Hyojin looks between the two. “Uh,”—he’s not sure how to go about this—“thanks. I hope I’m not intruding; I can go if—”

“No, stay,” Aissatou reassures. Hyojin now knows where Ari gets his kind demeanour from. “I meant it; you fit well. I like having you here, Hyojin.”

“Hope to see more of you,” Minerva adds, lifting a hand and patting the top of Hyojin’s head.

He goes stiff at the touch, blinking at Minerva with owlish eyes. His head’s never been patted before. He doesn’t know whether he’s supposed to bow, or thank her, or just keep staring. Minerva apparently sees his sheer awkwardness, and decides to laugh at it, ruffling his hair even more. (He could get used to this—to a family.)

“I think it might take a little bit for Ari to get up. In the meantime,” Aissatou says, taking a seat at the dining table and gesturing for her wife and Hyojin to join her. “We need to talk.” That’s never a good sentence. “All of us.”

「 march 31 | sunday | 1:11pm 」

The three of them take a momentary pause at the table, having just aired out enough information to fill another version of the Bible.

Minerva slips a small cookie into her mouth (at some point Aissatou had brought out cookies to snack on) and sighs while chewing, tapping her fingers against the table.

Aissatou is holding a mug of tea between her hands—has been for the past few hours—and stares into her cup like there'll be answers in the leaves.

Hyojin scratches the back of his ear. “I do really want to be with him,” he reiterates. “Genuinely.”

He's said it about fifty times now.

Aissatou smiles softly at him, offering a nod, while Minerva crosses her arms and slumps into her chair.  “This is…” She sighs. “It’s definitely something.”

Everything’s in the open now, not a detail skipped on either side.

(Hyojin took some liberties in withholding information about making out with their son.)

“Sorry for lying about it,” Hyojin says, running his thumb along the rim of the mug Minerva gave him, filled with now-lukewarm coffee. “Or, well, I guess Ari told you the truth a while ago, so… sorry for… keeping the lie up.”

“If I’m gonna be honest, Hyojin, we don’t really care about that part. So you can stop apologising for it.” Hyojin blinks at Aissatou’s claim, furrowing his brow. “What I’m concerned about,” she continues, “is how long you two are going to continue lying to yourselves.”

A reflex to ask ‘what do you mean?’ gnaws at his jaw—but he knows exactly what they mean. He knows it all too painfully well.

“You want it to be real. He wants it to be real. You know this—all you have to do is let him know, too.” There’s an edge to Aissatou’s voice that he hasn’t gotten used to, yet. It scares him a little. “So why aren’t you? How long are you going to drag Ari along for this, playing with his feelings—”

“I’m not—”

“But you are. He doesn’t know the things you do, and it’s wearing him down, planting things in his head that will only grow worse if you don’t stop them. So, I ask you again, why—”

“I want him to get to that point by himself.”

He stares the two women in the eyes as he speaks, ignoring the ache in the back of his head. 

“I need him to get to that point, by himself. Because he’s a fucking idiot, and he won’t listen to me, even if I tell him I want to be his boyfriend. Even if I tell him I love him. Even if I tell him that I choose him, over everything else; that I'd choose him, every time.”

They watch him with careful eyes, and part of him is thankful. Part of him wants them to stop looking.

“He’ll think it’s some sort of twisted joke, and he’ll brush it off, and close himself up all over again. And it’s probably my fault he thinks that of me—it’s my fault he thinks I’m not capable of loving him. But I… I don’t know how to change his opinion of me, not even after all we’ve been through. I can’t just tell him, it won’t fucking do anything. He needs to realise it himself, so he can start believing it.”

It occurs to him, briefly, that he’s badmouthing Ari directly to the people who raised him, but respect be damned.

“I love him, and I know he loves me, but I also know what he thinks about me; I know what he thinks I’m like. My only options are to feed into that impression, to take hold of the situation and take it all for myself, or to step back and let the idiot make up his little theories and reach a conclusion himself. It’s infuriating, and it’s absolute fucking torture for everyone involved, but I think… I think that’s just how it has to be, with him. That’s what we have to go through, to finally reach the same point. And I’m—” He takes a short breath to piece the words together. Some neuron of his brain gives him some words; something sounding just like the man he loves, stupidly poetic and stupidly sentimental. “I’m willing to wait for him; I want to wait for him. It's him or nothing, because— well, because, I’ll never get something like this, like him, ever again.”

When he’s done, he holds his mug back up to his lips and averts his gaze for the first time in the entire conversation, a little afraid of the response he’ll get for spouting shit that he, in other circumstances, wouldn’t be caught dead saying.

“Wow,” he hears Minerva say, after a few too many seconds of silence. “We always joke that Ari could be a writer if he wanted, but maybe we should start saying that about you, too.” He looks back at her after that, the embarrassment in his throat dissipating when he sees her smile. “It almost sounds scripted,” she says, more teasing than accusatory.

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a while to think about it.”

The clink of Aissatou’s ceramic mug against the table shoots through their interaction, and she hesitates before saying, “Forgive me for playing the devil’s advocate for a bit, Hyojin, but… You say you love him, and that you’ll wait, but— but I don’t…” She sighs. “I… I think that this waiting game will end up hurting you both more than you think it will, and I just… I don’t want the both of you to wait this long, just for something that doesn’t live up to the fantasies you’re both creating during the wait. It might hurt you more than it should—you could be setting yourself and Ari up for… well, something not as fairytale-like as you hope for.”

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about that. He has. Hidden between all his other issues, he’s listened to that annoying little voice in his head that asks him, every second, ‘what if?’ . But he’s a selfish person at his core, and he’d rather wait for eternity than take one step too far and end up right back at square one.

At some point, it all has to end. One way or another.

But he trusts Ari. He knows, deep down, that they’ll find their way to each other.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking.

Maybe it’s just delusional enough to be real one day.

“I don’t mean to be so negative,” Aissatou says, softly, back to her usual smile. “I’m sorry. I promise, I just want what’s best for the both of you; I want both of you to be happy.”

Hyojin opens his mouth to say something, maybe to apologise, or to thank her, but Minerva cuts in before he can. “How ‘bout you go and check up on Ari, Hyojin? Maybe he’s finally up.”

He knows dismissal when he sees it. So he thanks them again, takes his lukewarm coffee, and shuffles upstairs, as quiet as a shadow. Minerva strains her neck to watch him go, craning her head to see around the corner of the staircase. Then when she finally loses sight of him, she lays a palm on her wife’s hand.

“So, devil’s advocate. ”

Aissatou laughs into her mug. She flips her hand on the table, entwining their fingers with a smile and a sigh. “I just don’t want to see them hurting, Min.”

“I know, Aya. I know. But they’ll get to it in their own time.”

“How much longer, though? According to everything Hyojin just told us, this has dragged on for much longer than it has to. How long is too long?”

Minerva leans into her chair, making herself comfortable as she offers a half-smile. “When it’s the right person, any amount of waiting is worth it. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. That what could be is worth waiting around for.”

“I… guess.”

“You’re cute when you try to be all intimidating.”

“I’m plenty intimidating, thank you.”

“Hmm. Give me a kiss and I’ll decide if I agree.”

「 march 31 | sunday | 3:49pm 」

Hyojin’s starting to wonder if Ari’s dead.

He’s been checking on the president intermittently, popping his head into the room to see if a lanky unconscious mess of hungover limbs is still in the bed, stomach-down, butt-up, arms-out, and head shoved between two pillows. (He still is. Just like the other thirty times Hyojin checked. He hasn’t even moved.)

As he makes himself comfortable on the doorframe, Hyojin watches the slow rise and fall of Ari’s torso, a slight relief to know the man’s still alive after the shitstorm. He almost laughs at the sight before him—the president, with his hair frazzled against cotton and his shirt crumpling up around his chest.

He looks painfully human like this. Not a prince; not a president. Just a guy with a hangover.

Hyojin will admit that he isn’t above looking around Ari’s room, now, when the guilt in his throat has bubbled down to a simmer. 

There’s a long desk, against the wall, covered with a good mix of organised stationery and cluttered papers. Ari’s bed, with a painfully plain brown-and-white spread, sits right under a large window that lets the slow-setting sun beam through sheer white curtains. He counts five different full-size bookshelves around the room, all overflowing with carefully-organised novels, textbooks, anthologies, the like. A singular plant sits on the bedside, a tiny cactus, and Hyojin tries to wipe the smile off his face when he sees it.

It’s both pleasantly unsurprising and horribly predictable—it screams Ari Astutia, in the clearest possible way. But Hyojin doesn’t hate it; he doesn’t hate getting to see it all laid out in front of him, the stupid endearing sense of it all.

He risks a step or two into the room, tracing his finger along the grain of the wooden desk, dancing across highlighters and pens galore.

He pauses before he gets to the middle, his eye caught on two notebooks.

No, not notebooks—journals.

Ari’s journals, he recognises them to be. He’s gotten glimpses of them here and there—caught Ari scribbling furiously down onto the pages, holding the book close to him, nose almost buried into the pages; caught Ari not-so-subtly hiding the book beneath the table, behind his back, in his locker.

One is thinner, with a significant lack of wear and tear, its deep red hardcover in almost pristine condition. The other has seen better days—a leather cover, with intricate designs on it, fraying at the edges. Its pages are browning with use, and little scrap papers and sticky notes poke out from the bottom, the sheer mass of it being held together by a latch on its front.

A latch without a lock.

When he picks up the leather-bound journal, he runs his hand across the embedded design on its cover, flipping it over in his hands, careful not to let anything fall out.

‘I write about this,’ Ari had told him. ‘About you, and us.’

He wonders if the journal in his hand has things written about him in it.

He wonders just what Ari has written about him. 

A stagnant silence sits in the air around him, his gaze caught between the journal in his hands and the sleeping Ari across the room. The journal feels heavy in his grasp; it weighs down his hand. 

His curiosity is strong.

But his will is stronger.

He puts the journal down, right back to where he found it, in perfect place. It stares at him, almost beckons for him again, but he steps away and sighs.

Leaning against the doorframe again, Hyojin crosses his arms and rests his head on the threshold, making himself as comfortable as he can to spend a few more agonising minutes watching Ari sleep.

He feels Aissatou stand next to him more than he hears her, what with her silence. They stand there together for a moment or two, lingering at the doorway, staring at a boy cuddled into his sheets.

Hyojin is the first one to talk. “Has he ever slept this long before?”

When Aissatou hums, Hyojin finally glances over. She watches her son sleep with fondness in her eyes; a sort of melancholic look that tells him she’s seeing everything through rose-tinted glass. “Once,” she says, quietly, considerately. “A few days after we brought him home for the first time. He got a bad fever. He was stuck in bed for so long it drove us to panic. I used to joke about it being his subconscious rejecting us.”

The way she says it doesn’t come off as pitiful, nor depressing. A light sort of tone, reminiscing on the days well-past. 

“He slept for an entire eighteen hours. And then he woke up, and he was brighter than ever, ready to take on the world. And every morning after that.” Hyojin wonders what it would have been like to have Aissatou as a mother. He thinks Ari’s the perfect end product of her care. “But he’s been having a bit of trouble lately. With sleeping, I mean.”

“Is that my fault?”

“A little bit,” she says, with a soft smile in her eyes. “But I don’t blame you—and neither does he.”

“Yeah. That’s the problem, I think. He’s always taking everything on by himself; doing shit and saying it’s for my own good, but—”

“But he’s actually getting in the way of things?”

“Well—yes.” He clicks his tongue. “I wasn’t going to say it like that, but yes.”

She smiles wider at that, a little laugh falling out of her to ease the tension. “I understand what you’re going through, Hyojin. I don’t relate to it, but I can understand it. And I can’t say I like what you’re doing—leaving it all up to him.” She turns her body to face him, almost eye-level, give or take an inch or two. “Ari is my son. And as much as I love you, you have to know that his happiness is my first priority.”

“Who says it isn’t mine as well?”

Ari is his mother’s son. Hyojin can see that perfectly now, without a hint of doubt. Not when Aissatou stares at him with those deep black eyes, her heart planted there for the taking. He knows Ari’s eyes as the clearest window to a soul; he never figured Aissatou to be the one to teach it. “If Ari doesn’t confess soon,” she offers, carefully, “I ask you to take that step instead.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. Any longer, and he might end up joining Ari with that bad habit of his. 

“I know I don’t have any actual control over your actions, but… at least consider it, please.” It hurts him a little to look into her eyes, to see her sincerity, but it would hurt more to look away. “I don’t know how much longer he can handle being buried in his own head like this—let alone how much you can handle it.”

That’s where he thinks she’s wrong. He could spend however much longer he needs to, waiting for Ari, pain and all. But he’s not sure if Ari’s the same.

Aissatou pats his shoulder gently, offering him one last smile. Before she walks away, she tells him, “If you love him, if you choose him… you’d better let him know it.”

「 march 31 | sunday | 3:54pm 」

The first thing Ari thinks of when he regains his consciousness is that his head hurts like a bitch.

It’s pounding from all different directions, and he can’t tell if his eyes are even open, or if he’s even alive. He can faintly understand that he’s on a bed, though it takes him a bit to realise it, and that there are quiet voices a few feet away from him. Though he can’t make out the words, he hears his mom’s voice in the fog, and relief washes over him.

What comes next travels to his brain slowly and steadily, as his soul floats back to reality, taking its sweet damn time—he’s on his own bed (good), and it might be the afternoon from the way the light hits his eyes (not so good), and—the most confusing of all—he’s probably hungover (definitely not good).

He can’t even remember the last time he ever drank alcohol enough to feel intoxicated, let alone drink enough to warrant a hangover.

It’s, to put it very lightly, extremely concerning.

He tests out moving his limbs, which proves to be a massive pain in the ass. It’s like every joint in his body is being weighed down by some force hellbent on keeping him on the bed—which… he wouldn’t necessarily complain about, if he’s honest. He manages to roll himself over the tiniest bit, now lying on his side rather than his stomach, and he focuses all his energy to opening his eyes.

Everything is blurry and bright, with little splotches of black in his vision that would have him panicking if he had the energy for it. There’s something by his door—Minerva?—and he strains his mind to focus his eyes and speak.

“Ma?” He pushes out, his voice croaky and quiet. He pushes his arm out of the blanket, laying it against the bed as he holds it out for her. “S’that you?” The blur of her moves closer to him, though she doesn’t get much clearer. “M’head really… hurts.”

She’s next to him now, by his bedside, but she hasn’t taken his hand. Which is strange, considering her love of cuddles and her track record of being overly-affectionate when she’s worried. But he thinks she might be scared, or a little upset at him for being, well, hungover, so he pushes his hand out just that little further, catching her fingers between his own.

Still stuck between conscious states, he lets his hand rest in hers, smoothing out the skin of her wrist with his thumb. He feels rough calluses (calluses?) against his palm, and her hand feels a bit broader (broader?) than he remembers…

And then he realises whose hand he’s holding.

He completely wakes up following the realisation, jumping up and pulling his hand back to his own body, blinking up at Hyojin— Hyojin —standing beside his bed.

His pounding migraine hasn’t subsided, but he’s definitely awake now. “Wh—” His heart might beat out of his chest. “Carys? What are— What’s— I— Carys? ”

He hears Hyojin laughing, and it does well to ease the anxiety, but the confusion stays at an all-time high. “Good morning, sleeping beauty. Or rather, good afternoon.”

“I’m…” A few good minutes of silence and appraising the situation later, Ari gets his bearings and realises a few things:

A) He was holding Hyojin’s hand.

B) The way his room is lit up from his window tells him it’s well past noon.

C) He was holding Hyojin’s hand.

D) It’s the day after prom, and he doesn’t remember getting home last night, and he definitely doesn’t remember undressing from his prom outfit and putting on his pyjamas. And also, Hyojin is in his room, and in his house, and knowing his parents, they let Hyojin sleep over, and the math in his brain isn’t doing the right things to compute it all together.

and E) He. Was. Holding. Hyojin’s. Hand.

“That was Minerva,” Hyojin tells him, not at all laughing at the way Ari tugs at his shirt and stares down at it like it’s just told him the origins of Stonehenge. “You kinda went a little insane at the afterparty. I dragged you back here, dropped you off to Minerva, and stayed the night since it was late.”

“Oh.” That’s a lot to process in ten seconds. “...Thank you.”

“Eh, it’s fine. You’ve been dealing with me since January, so I guess my debt is paid.” Hyojin smiles as he says that, and Ari’s mind takes a break from overloading to appreciate the view in front of him.

Hyojin Carys, in his room, with messy hair and a handsome smile and… Ari’s clothes.

“Is that— Are you wearing my clothes?”

“Yeah.” He glances down at the loose clothes he wears, his hands tucked into the pockets of Ari’s middle-school sweatpants. “Minerva gave them to me. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no, I— I don’t. Really. It’s, uh— It’s fine.” When Hyojin lifts a hand out of the loose t-shirt that Ari usually saves for summer, the worn blue-grey fabric falls off of his pale shoulder, exposing his collarbone. He tugs at the hem of the shirt, the small hole above the seam, and Ari has to stop himself from staring at the sliver of waist that peeks out from beneath, the band of his pants hung low on Hyojin’s hip. He ignores the heat on his ears, just as he ignores the twinkle that gleams in Hyojin’s eyes. “They, uh… They look—big. On you.”

Ari averts his gaze after that, a pretty red blush forming across his cheeks. Hyojin wonders if there’s still vodka in his system. He briefly tells the fluttering in his heart to fuck off, then asks, “How’re you feeling?”

“Well,” Ari starts, chuckling a little as he reaches up and brushes his hands through his hair, “I’ve got the world’s worst migraine, and I think I’m seeing spots, so… I’d say I’ve had better days.”

“Welcome to the world of hangovers.”

Ari groans, leaning back into his pillows. “As far as firsts go, this one is absolutely terrible. How do you do it?”

“I don’t. I drink in moderation, sweetheart, because I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m not—” He purses his lips. “This was the only time I’ve ever done it, so you don’t get to reprimand me for it.” The pillows beneath his head feel like heaven, and he decides to throw away his shame in lieu of comfort, snuggling his head into the soft cotton. “I didn’t…” he hesitates, unsure how to phrase it, “I can’t really remember anything from last night, after prom, when we, uh… when you got the crown. I’m… I didn’t do anything weird… did I?”

He’s almost afraid to hear the answer.

Hyojin’s almost afraid to give it.

Brief flashes of relief and regret pass through his gut like a shockwave, leaving him conflicted and reeling.

Ari doesn’t remember any of it. 

“No,” he answers. “No, you didn’t.” A sigh escapes the president’s lips, and his shoulders sag. Hyojin bites the inside of his cheek. “Jaime somehow managed to pressure you into drinking some vodka, and you were out cold in a bedroom because of it. I just took you home, so—nothing to worry about. Your reputation’s as golden as ever.”

Something about the way he says it eases all the anxieties out of Ari’s soul; the signature Carys-like grin in his eye—the sort of twinkle that got the president wrapped around a pretty finger.

He watches Hyojin step away from his bedside and to his desk, running a finger along the spines of books—old textbooks, and some yearbooks. Ari’s breath hitches in his throat when Hyojin’s finger pauses against a spine, thick and deep blue. A photo album.

His tired mind watches in horror, almost in slow-motion, as Hyojin pulls the album out and reads the print on the front. A collection of photos from Ari’s childhood, with the cover not only stating the years, but his full name.

Hyojin seems to realise this a second after it’s too late for Ari to tell him to put the book down, a manic grin spreading across his features. “Prez.”

“…Carys…?”

“Your full name—”

“Oh god.”

“Is Aristaeus…”

“Please don’t—”

“Helios…”

“Oh, god. ”

“Astutia.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and presses the balls of his palms up against them, hiding from the world as his brows furrow in pain. “Oh,” he groans out, hunched over into himself, “oh, this hurts so much more than the hangover.”

“Your parents really didn’t hold back, huh?”

“It’s actually… it’s partially my fault.”

“How is—”

“No. We’re not talking about this.” He holds up a hand, and Hyojin shows some mercy. “At least let my brain start working before you drill me with insults.”

The harsh laughter of Hyojin’s amusement fills the room and, miraculously, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Hyojin returns the album to its place between some others, taking a final look around at Ari’s room before his gaze settles on the boy in the bed, his messy hair and his pretty eyes.

There’s something in Hyojin’s gaze that Ari notices; something that wasn’t there before. A certain glaze over dark brown pupils, a certain roundness to his eyes, and it leaves Ari dreaming about late mornings in cozy sheets and lazy limbs.

He thinks he was sad, before, last night, at prom.

He can’t remember anymore.

It doesn’t matter anymore.

All that matters is the way Hyojin looks at him.

“Put some clothes on,” Hyojin says. “I’m gonna take you somewhere.”

「 march 31 | sunday | 5:05pm 」

An hour’s drive out takes them past the suburbs, past the city, and into a town along the coast.

The destination had been kept a surprise, with a bright smile and a wink from Hyojin, and Ari hadn’t been one to argue. He’d thrown on a comfortable sweater, watched with curious eyes as Hyojin styled himself using one of Ari’s hoodies and a pair of ripped jeans lent to him from Minerva, and hopped on for the ride.

He sits on the back of Hyojin’s bike, completely used to it by now, a natural at wrapping his arms around a cotton-covered torso and watching the roads go by through a tinted helmet. It does wonders as a hangover cure, to let himself relax as Hyojin takes a smooth ride through busy streets and quiet alleys alike.

When Hyojin does pull into a parking space, Ari’s not sure what he expected.

They arrive at a cozy shopping town along a small road, outlooking the beach and just a footpath’s length from the sandy shore. Hyojin takes off his helmet and shakes out his hair, before waiting for Ari to do the same and follow him up to a storefront.

The strip of stores is quiet—understandable, for five on a Sunday afternoon—and Hyojin saunters up to an empty ice cream parlour. Despite the ‘Closed’ sign against the window, he pushes the door open and walks right in. Ari just watches in quiet, polite horror.

It takes a moment, and adamant prompting from Hyojin, before Ari is following him into the empty store, light on his feet and anxious. “Um,” he scratches his brow, “are we allowed to be in here?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“The ‘Closed’ sign, for one.”

“I’ve climbed through windows before, prez. Does me walking into a closed store really surprise you?”

“I… No, actually. You’re right.”

“Can you say that again? But let me record it this time.”

“Carys—”

An excited shriek interrupts them, as a middle-aged Asian woman rounds the corner and nearly jumps over the counter to engulf Hyojin in a hug. “Hyojin!” she cries out, the momentum of her body nearly tipping him over despite her being nearly a foot shorter than him. “Oh, it’s been so long!”

Hyojin laughs with a fondness that Ari has only ever dreamed of before, his expression melting into something softer than Ari has ever seen before. “It’s great to see you too, Jiyoung. How’s—”

His name is yelled out again, this time by a group, all flooding out of the back of the store like they were waiting for a cue to enter. A child sprints out of the group of six, his arms out like a plane as he heads straight for Hyojin’s legs. Hyojin catches him before the collision, easily picking the boy up by his torso and swinging him around in a circle with a wide grin. “Jun!” he yells out, his words muddled in laughter, “you’re so tall now, what the hell!”

Jun loses himself in giggles, running circles around Hyojin the moment he’s put back down. “I’m seven now, Jin-jin! Of course I’m tall!”

Ari smiles. ‘Jin-jin?’

Hyojin crouches down and holds Jun’s tiny face in his hands, squishing his cheeks together. “Oh man, I was only gone for, like, half a year, and you’re already so big. Do you know how scary that is, Jun? Soon enough you’ll be my height. That’s super scary. Stop growing, stay tiny, please.”

A man—somewhere in his twenties, Ari assumes—stalks up behind Hyojin and reaches down to ruffle his hair, a kind smile on his handsome features. “ He needs to stop growing? Look at you , you’re all grown-up!”

Hyojin seems to light up at the voice, jumping up to pull him into a tight, back-slapping, face-tucked-into-neck hug. “God, Jaemin, you have no idea how much I’ve missed your stupid face.”

They look akin to brothers finally reunited, slowly swaying in each other’s arms. While the two of them repeat a cycle of compliment-hug-compliment-hug, Ari casts a quick glance at the family, trying to keep to himself for the time being.

The woman who he first saw—the mother, he presumes—holds her husband’s arm close to her body, leaning into him, both of them with proud grins on their well-aged faces. He guesses the man hugging Hyojin, Jaemin, is the eldest of the bunch—and that Jun, still holding onto Hyojin’s leg, is the youngest.

There are three girls floating around beside the boys, waiting for their turn to greet Hyojin, all eager smiles and kind eyes. One of them seems to be his own age, with vibrant purple hair and a septum ring, and she’s flanked by two twins, probably around sixteen, both a lot less eye-catching than their elder sister.

“Jieun,” Hyojin greets her, with a firm handclap that borders on a rehearsed handshake, “I see you’ve embraced the whole sapphic thing.”

“What gave it away?” She smirks, and Ari feels a lightning bolt shoot through his spine. There’s two of them.

He greets the twins in a series of jokes of jabs through which Ari learns their names, Jaehee and Jungha, and he laughs a little at the pattern of names he finds, and then he’s being pulled into the circle by slender fingers around his wrist. He’s standing beside Hyojin before he realises what’s happening, and there are seven pairs of eyes on him.

“This is Ari,” Hyojin says. “My boyfriend.”

Ari blinks.

His boyfriend.

“Ari,”— Ari —“this is the Lee family.”

(Since when did Hyojin ever call him by his name?)

(And why does his name sound so beautiful in Hyojin’s voice?)

“They took care of me when I moved from Korea.” Hyojin’s hand slips easily into his own, slender fingers entwined with his as Hyojin smiles up at him with the innocence and glee of a child. “I’ve been wanting you to meet them for a bit now.”

And then he’s thrown into the lion’s den, with smiles and compliments galore, drowning him in kindness and hospitality and praise. He exchanges pleasantries with Jiyoung and her husband Junhwan, bonds with Jieun over literature, makes jokes with Jungha about his height, interrogates Jaemin about university life, shares pictures of cute animals with Jaehee, and throws Jun onto his shoulders to give him rides around the store.

Through it all, he keeps a careful eye on Hyojin.

Who he always finds looking right back at him.

「 march 31 | sunday | 6:12pm 」

“I still can’t believe you got mint-choc.”

“What’s wrong with mint chocolate chip ice cream, Carys? What did it ever do to you?”

“It’s criminal.”

“What’s criminal is that you don’t like it.”

“It’s toothpaste with bits of chocolate in it, prez.”

“Now you’re just grasping at straws.”

Hyojin shakes his head like he’s exasperated, absolutely fed up with Ari, but Ari spots the unmistakable fang-toothed smile that spreads across Hyojin’s face, making it a hundred times prettier than it already is. He’ll never get tired of that smile.

They’re sitting on the top floor of the parlour now, a rooftop dining space with patio furniture and paint peeling off of the fencing. Hyojin rests his feet up on said fencing, lounging back in his chair, languidly chipping away at his espresso ice cream. Ari could comment on Hyojin’s choice of flavour just as well, but he leaves it be.

Now alone, the two bask in the quiet beachside air. The sun paints everything in beautiful specks of gold, in the gap between the afternoon and the evening. The sun sets slower now, as they slowly approach spring and leave the winter behind. (It’s a shame. Ari’s always been a fan of winter.)

They’d spent a little under an hour with the Lee family, recounting stories from the past seven months that Hyojin had spent away from them. He’d woven a romantic story about finding a safe haven in Ari, after months of being ostracised, and funnelled down to their current definitely-real relationship.

It was strange, a little bit, to hear the story from Hyojin’s perspective. Ari had come off much more heroic in Hyojin’s view than he ever thought himself to be. Perhaps Hyojin had twisted his words that way to up the antics. Or, perhaps…

“So,” he starts, poking at a chocolate chip in his ice cream, “the Lees. They’re…?”

Hyojin hums, reaching back to put his ice cream down on a small table behind them, resting his hands behind his head. “Kind of like a foster family,” he says. “Well. Not really. It was like I was an exchange student under their care, really. And I’d work to pay my rent. Of sorts.”

He remembers the day they started the plan—he remembers Hyojin telling him he didn’t have any parents. He hadn’t pried; it wasn’t his place to. He’s not sure if he’s even earned the right to hear the story.

Hyojin tells it anyway. “My biological family’s back in Korea. Probably. Don’t know what they’re up to, actually. I left the moment I turned eighteen, and never looked back. Didn’t think to keep in contact.”

“I’m glad you moved.”

Hyojin glances over at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Because, if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met you. And, well, you know, you wouldn’t have all the friends you do now.” Hyojin watches him for a while, runs a gaze over his face. Ari doesn’t know what else to say, so he asks, “What were they like?”

He’s glad when Hyojin doesn’t reprimand him for asking. “They were… draining. I guess is the way to put it. It was tiring to exist with them. Every minuscule movement of mine was analysed under a microscope, and evaluated, and criticized. It took everything out of me. I ran out the moment I could. Then I got here, and the Lees took me in, and I spent about… nine months, or so, just working. Building up savings. During the day, I was a friendly local face selling ice cream. And at night, an upstart bartender at a nightclub. Then I got my apartment, senior year started, and… well, you know the rest.”

Ari takes another spoonful of ice cream. “They should write a movie about you.”

Hyojin laughs. “That’d be something.”

“I would watch it.”

“You’d be part of it.”

“Maybe I’m a narcissist, then.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

A little voice in the back of Ari’s mind prompts him to question the peace in the air; the shift between last night and today. But Hyojin is here, finally letting Ari into his heart, finally taking down his walls, and Ari can only be so grateful. He’s just been let in—he doesn’t want to risk being kicked out. 

Hyojin takes back his ice cream, now slightly melted, and shoves in a spoonful or two. Ari averts his gaze to his own.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” he says, after a moment or two of comfortable silence. “This was fun. Really. I loved seeing… Um.” He picks at his ice cream, stirs it in the cup like it’s soup. “It was nice, seeing you like that. I didn’t expect you to be so good with kids.”

A half-scoff-half-laugh escapes Hyojin, a smirk paired with fond eyes. “I think it’s just Jun. I learned how to get along with him. Not sure about other kids. But he’s alright.”

“I wouldn’t mind, you know. If you wanted to go downstairs and talk to them more. We did come here for them, after all.”

“Actually, we came for something else,” Hyojin says, with a bright smile and brighter eyes. Ari knows that look. It means a plan. “Humour me a little bit longer?”

Ari narrows his eyes. “Why? What have you got planned?”

With an all-too-familiar teasing hum, Hyojin smiles. “It’s a surprise.”

He stares out to the sunset after that, like it’s the end of the discussion. Ari doesn’t argue. He watches Hyojin in the golden light, watches the way the wind blows through soft black strands, the way those waves flow past and against porcelain skin, the way his silver piercings glow in the beams of the sun. That hauntingly pretty face, the perfect side-profile, eyes with long lashes and a smooth throat with a prominent adam’s apple, dipping into slender collarbones peeking out of the collar of his own hoodie.

Flashes of colours strike through Ari’s vision—small bursts of a hand against a back; tears rolling down a cheek; lips on a throat and pleading black eyes.

They leave as quickly as they’d come, and he furrows his brows at the… hallucinations?

(Memories?)

(Fantasies?)

(Maybe all the times he’s shoved down his desires for Hyojin have finally caught up to him.)

“You’re staring again.”

Ari fumbles with his gaze, turning his attention to the beautiful sunset instead of the beautiful boy next to him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, still staring out at the horizon. “Stare all you want; I’ll let you.”

And it clicks. Ari hears it in his own head, like a bass-boosted yell straight into his eardrums; straight into his chest. This is what it could be—if it were real.

Comfortable silences and quick-witted conversations on beachside rooftops as the sun sets. Staring at his beautiful face, admiring his hair and his smile and his eyes—being allowed to stare at it all. Afternoons waking up to Hyojin wearing his clothes; evenings spent listening to the hidden depths of Hyojin’s life and mind and soul.

This is what he could have.

But could he let himself have it?

[to be continued...]

Chapter Text

「 march 31 | sunday | 6:22pm 」

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Carys, but your tendency to completely disregard the rules might end up biting you in the ass one day.”

Hyojin hums, holding his arms out to help Ari jump off the boardwalk. “Name one time I’ve done that, prez.”

“Let’s see,” Ari says as he grasps Hyojin’s hands in his own, hopping off the wooden planks to land on the sand, “fighting on school grounds? Fighting in general? Breaking into the council room, multiple times over? Ignoring your suspension and sneaking onto campus? Everything you do regarding the uniform policy? Whatever we’re doing right now? ”

Holding in his laughter, Hyojin leaves one of his hands in Ari’s grasp, guiding him across the beach. They stick close to the rocky cliff wall that separates the beach from the buildings beside it, with Hyojin retracing a pathway ingrained into his muscle memory. “Okay, well, name one time I’ve gotten in trouble for it.”

“You…” It’s a shame that Hyojin doesn’t look back to see Ari’s face—he’s sure it’d be all scrunched up at the nose. “Whatever. You’re only let off the hook at school because I’m the president.”

“You’re breaking the rules for little ol’ me? How awfully corrupt of you.”

“I just let you exist, Carys. It’s not like I’m stealing school funds.”

“But you did get into a fight that one time.”

Ari huffs. “You are a bad influence.”

“Oh, I do hope this isn’t the first time you’re thinking that about me. I try so hard to be.”

It’s been a while since Ari’s last beach visit. Sometime last year, he recalls—a trip with his parents, along with Lucio’s family, just before senior year started and life got too busy for family beach trips. He remembers burying Lucio in the sand and leaving him there to go get ice cream.

Now he lets Hyojin hold his hand and lead him across the shore, his eyes caught between staring at the back of his own hoodie and the gentle brush of black hair against its collar, and staring at the horizon; at the waves pushing up against the sand, the quiet serenity of an empty beach. He gives it an hour or two until the sun dips below the horizon, but for now, it’s still up, joined by the moon, across the sky. The beautiful moment in the evening, just before nightfall, when the sun and the moon grace the sky, together. There are dozens of myths he thinks of now, of the significance of the two seeing each other across the blue expanse, but never meeting; of the moon’s beauty, and the stories it holds.

By the time Ari starts thinking about Chang’e and Hou Yi, Hyojin stops in front of him and tugs on his hand to come back to reality. They’re standing before a big, daunting hill made up of rocks now, leading into the side of a large cliff. Hyojin tugs his hand again, nodding his head to the cliff and grinning. “Up for a little rock climbing?”

Ari sucks in a breath, looking up at the jagged rocks. “I feel like this is the part in the movie where I die.”

He snorts. “You won’t die, prez. Just—here.” He lets go of Ari’s hand to reach up onto the rocks, hooking his feet onto a few gaps and pulling himself up onto a makeshift ledge. Ari wonders where he learned to be so agile. “C’mon,” Hyojin says, leaning down and offering a hand.

Ari stares at him for a little, then scans the rocks surrounding him, looking for any other opening. He narrows his eyes a little at the ledge Hyojin is kneeling on, before reaching up and easily wrapping a hand against the edge, securing himself. Parkour not needed.  He smiles up at Hyojin, slightly smug, to be met with a scoff.

“Lanky bastard.”

It’s not too hard a feat, then, after the initial climb. Hyojin leaps over sharp stones and warns Ari of unstable patches; Ari follows Hyojin’s pathway up through the cliff and finds himself more and more thankful for his height. As they travel further into the rocks, leaves and vines start joining their path, from mossy stone to long branches of green hitting Ari’s head as he hikes through the darkening path. He briefly wonders where the hell they’ve walked.

Then they reach an enclosed threshold built deeper into the rocks, what looks like the entrance to a cave, dark and foreboding and mysterious. Hyojin climbs over a fallen log and starts making his way into the shadows.

Ari hesitates. “We’re— going in there? ”

When Hyojin simply steps back towards him, grabs his hand, and leads him forward, it does little to soothe Ari’s anxieties. “Don’t worry, prez. There’s nothing dangerous here. Besides maybe spiders.”

“That doesn’t help.”

The cave is quiet in an almost haunting way, so dark that Ari has to rely on instinct to get his feet moving forward. He thinks he hears running water, but he’s not sure where it’s coming from. The pathway they take is dark and damp and dismal, and he thinks it the best place to be murdered and never found. But any complaints he has about it all disappear in his throat as they round the corner and step out into a clearing.

It’s what Ari can only describe as a perfect place to meditate, if he was the type of person to do that. The stone breaks away at the top, a clearing, revealing a wide-open sky streaked with orange and purple and blue. Leaves and moss embrace the stone walls surrounding, almost an illusion of a forest around them, something untouched and undisturbed by humanity. Their pathway—stone, rocks, and gravel, mostly, fades slowly into a dull, gray-ish sand, which leads into a small lake of water. And there, right across from the entrance, framed by beautiful greenery, sits a waterfall. A natural waterfall, Ari thinks, in here of all places, is incredibly hard to come by—let alone one that holds its own lake, walls, leaves, a home.

He doesn’t realise his mouth is hanging open until Hyojin closes it for him, with gentle fingers under his chin. “Yeah,” Hyojin nods, looking out to the whole scene with his hands on his hips, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s…” He’s at a loss for words. “How is… How’d you even… find this place?”

Ari’s eyes follow Hyojin as he walks over the sand and steps over the scattered rocks, nimbly climbing up to the top of a large, flat rock that hangs over the water, like a miniature version of the cliff they’d climbed into. When Hyojin gestures for him to follow, Ari does just that. It’s only when they’re together, sitting on the cool stone, legs hanging off the edge and just barely brushing against the surface of the water beneath them, does Hyojin answer his question.

“Sometimes not caring about the rules leads you to some interesting places,” he says. “I found this about a month or so after I moved here—somewhere around then, I think. The Lees had just taken me in, and I was still in that phase of not really belonging. Of feeling like an intruder. And I was at the peak of my whole… hating-the-world thing. It wasn’t great. I’m honestly not sure how they dealt with me—I was depressing, pessimistic, and annoyingly cynical, all the time, relentlessly. I was still getting over everything with my biological family, and I wasn’t doing great at it. I took it out on everything around me. The Lees tried their best, but there’s only so much affection you can give someone who refuses to take it.”

Ari’s inclined to make a passing comment or an attempt at comfort, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches the ripples in the water beneath his feet. He watches his wavy reflection, and he listens.

“It was nighttime when I found this place. I remember that. I’d just had an argument with Jaemin after dinner—more of me just being an asshole and him being fed up with it, really—and I did what I was best at. Ran away. Got to the beach, just kept walking until I got to the cliff face. It was winter, and it was raining, and I was miserable. And I thought, well, everything’s shit already, so there’s no downside to climbing up this fucking cliff and seeing where it leads me. If I found something, great. If I fell, even greater. Maybe it’d make me feel something. It wasn’t like I could go deeper than rock bottom.”

Hyojin’s staring up at the sky as he talks, Ari notices, with his eyes slightly distant as he watches the clouds overhead pass by. It reminds Ari of when they first met. Or rather, when he first saw Hyojin, in all his bloody glory. He was scared, back then. Intrigued. But now, he can’t imagine looking at that profile and being anything other than pathetically in love.

“And then I got here,” Hyojin says. “And it was so beautiful that it just… calmed me down. It made me realise I was completely, utterly in the wrong, and that I had been, about so many fucking things, for so fucking long. I don’t know what about this place made my brain finally start working, but I’m not going to question it. ‘Course, the whole epiphany didn’t really do well in making me the world’s kindest person, but at least I was more self-aware. At least I knew to apologise to Jaemin when I got back. At least I knew that I could go back. So I kept coming here, at night, when everyone else was asleep and no one could see me sneak onto the beach. Just to… hang around, I guess. Lie on this rock and think about everything.”

Hyojin leans back as he talks, laying on the rock’s smooth surface, cradling the back of his head with his hands. Ari follows him down and looks out to the darkening sky.

“I thought cutting ties with my old family would fix everything. That’s what they don’t tell you about escaping a shitty place—even after you’ve escaped it, there’s still work to do. You’re still part of that shithole, no matter where you are physically, and unless you do something about it, you’ll be there forever. I didn’t get that for a while. I wasn’t getting better; I was just learning how to ignore it more. I felt lost all the time, and I didn’t know why, and I gave in to any impulse that would distract me from trying to find the answer. Fighting and fucking, is what it ended up being.”

He laughs at that, at his own absurdity. Ari’s caught between smiling and crying. He closes his eyes and focuses on the solid stone under his back; at the sound of Hyojin’s voice.

“The whole outcast thing made me feel even shittier, I think. Even though it was my own damn fault that I got there. I was bitter, and I wasn’t willing to make amends. I let everyone say whatever they wanted about me; think whatever they wanted. It was easier than trying to convince them otherwise. And then you came along.”

Ari does open his eyes at that. He can feel every thump of his heart; he can hear it in his ears. He stares at the sky. The stars are starting to appear.

“You and your stupid fucking obsession with me wearing a tie,” he chuckles, fondly. “You managed to see me, look past all my fucking rudeness, and deal with it. That hadn’t happened before. And then—the plan. You came up with this elaborate idea to get people to like me. And the craziest part about it is…” He snorts. “It worked. It was the worst idea I’d ever heard of—and it fucking worked. People started talking to me. People stuck around. You helped me to make something out of my school life that wasn’t just bitter memories. So… Thanks. I guess.”

Hyojin’s hand catches his, lying between them, nimble fingers threading into his own. 

“Yeah,” Hyojin says, almost a whisper. “Thanks.”

Ari thinks that Hyojin’s hand is cold. His own is warm. It works. “So…” he bites the inside of his cheek, “you don’t… regret it?”

“Pretending to date you?” Hyojin looks over at him. He looks ethereal under the moonlight that creeps into the clearing, with his dark hair splayed out under him, soft waves pressed against his cheek. He smiles, so beautifully that it almost aches to bear it witness. “No, Ari. I don’t regret it.”

He wonders what he should say. ‘That’s good’ doesn’t sound quite right. “I wish I’d helped you sooner,” he ends up saying. “I wish I hadn’t been a coward. I wasted half a year being afraid of you. Half a year, telling myself avoiding you was the best route. I could have spent those months knowing you, and fighting the rumours. We could have spent those months…”

“Being friends?”

“Yeah.”

Are we friends, Ari?

“To be honest,” Ari says, his thumb subconsciously rubbing circles into Hyojin’s skin, “I didn’t think it would work this well. I was hoping it would; relying on it, really, but… it still surprised me. All it took to fix the problems we had, was just… to say that we were dating. It sounds ridiculous.”

“It is.”

He laughs. “Yeah. It is. It really is. Who’d have thought, right? I thought that, well, if your reputation had been entirely fabricated out of rumours, we could simply reverse it, using the same power. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a successful hypothesis.”

“I did, once.” Hyojin uses his free hand to brush back his fringe, letting gravity pull it away from his forehead and onto the stone. “Ninth-grade chem lab. Hypothesized my concoction would blow up.”

“I get the feeling you were adamant on making it successful.”

“By that you mean, ‘I bet you blew up your classroom on purpose’?”

“Quite.”

“You’re right,” he laughs. “I wanted to. And I did.”

“Did you get in trouble for that?”

“Never got caught.” He taps the tip of his nose, like he’s giving Ari life tips. “The aftermath was so messy, and everyone was filled with so much adrenaline, that no one managed to see which bench was responsible for the explosion. And I was a shit person, so even when they threatened the culprit, I never admitted to it. Well, I’m still a shit person, and I wouldn’t have admitted anyway, but whatever.”

Ari’s mind feels conflicted; fighting between amused and horrified. “Did… did anyone get hurt?”

His answer comes a little later, after he’s hummed a bit and closed his eyes to try and remember. “I’d like to say no, but I’d be lying. I don’t remember there being any injuries besides my own, but if I was hurt by it, others probably were too. I didn’t really care enough at the time to notice.”

The story doesn’t exactly surprise Ari—and that surprises him. He thinks that, objectively, he should listen to this story and feel disgusted; he should look at Hyojin and see someone capable of harm and apathy. But he thinks of Hyojin, the Hyojin Carys he knows, and sees a boy with a bottomless pit of sincerity in his eyes. He’s so laser-focused on comparing the two that it takes him a bit to fully register Hyojin’s words, and then he’s scrunching his brows together. “Your own?”

Without even a word, Hyojin hikes his hoodie up to his chest, baring his stomach out to the night air. Then he lifts their hands, maneuvering his own from Ari’s palm to the back of his hand, cradling it and guiding it down to his tattoo. Ari’s fingers brush against his pale skin, running across the expanse of a supple stomach as Hyojin guides his hand along the exposed skin right next to an inked line. The soft pads of Ari’s fingertips find a jagged edge of skin there, almost a seamless scar to those not paying attention to the way Hyojin’s skin pulls taut, the tiniest bit, for an inch or two, just above his belly button. Ari guesses it was a stray shard of glass, or a particularly violent piece of plastic. It would’ve called for stitches.

“Christ.”

“Yeah,” Hyojin says, coated in something like a chuckle. “School really shapes the person, hey. More ways than one. Guess I pulled the short straw.”

Ari hums his agreement, not at all bothered by the slow rise and fall of Hyojin’s stomach against his hand; not at all bothered by the fact that Hyojin leaves it there, his hand on top of Ari’s, Ari’s on top of his bare stomach. “It’s all gone by in such a blur. High school, I mean. This year. It’s all… everything’s coming so fast. I feel like I’ll blink, and then I’ll be on stage, with a certificate in my hand and a cap on my head, making a speech. And then… and then we’ll graduate. And high school will end. And I won’t be the student council president anymore. I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“You don’t know what comes next?”

“Not a clue. And I hate not knowing. All my life, or, what feels like all my life, I’ve been so focused on… school. On getting the best grades; being the best role model. But that’s… all I’ve been. For the past twelve years, it’s all I’ve been. What is there to me after I graduate?”

Hyojin hums. “Well, then, you become Ari.” It sounds so simple when he says it. “You weren’t always the president. And that’s not all there is to you.”

“What, besides horrible fashion and public speaking skills?” He loves when he can be like this. He loves when he can make Hyojin laugh.

“You’re more than what they say you are,” he says.

Ari snorts. “Those are some awfully wise words.”

“I learn from the best.” Hyojin angles their conjoined hands up, turning at the elbows, and stares as he moves his hand again and weaves his fingers into Ari’s, porcelain calluses and tanned knuckles. It occurs to him that it’s all very domestic; that this, laying together under the stars and confessing their worries, isn’t something that they do. But Ari hasn’t let go of his hand yet. “You could be a poet, you know.”

Ari laughs, in that lilted little way that he does when he finds something amusing yet stupid. “Me, a poet? In this century? A little ambitious, don’t you think?”

“A writer, then. Or a teacher. You’d be paid to go on your neverending rambles and lectures.” What he doesn’t say out loud is how he can imagine Ari sitting at a desk with reading glasses, annotating his own manuscript, with fifteen different highlighters and a scattering of sticky notes. How he can imagine bringing him a hot cup of cocoa, just the two of them, under the lights of his apartment. “You’d be a good teacher, I think. You’ve got the superiority complex for it.”

With a scoff, Ari nudges his knee into the side of Hyojin’s leg. “I do not have a superiority complex.”

He can see Cassiopeia peeking her head out of the clouds, just slightly, if he squints his eyes just enough. He wonders if this lake was the surprise Hyojin had planned for him, or if it was the talking. The comfort of laying here, watching the moon and listening to the water, sharing stories. They’ve never really talked like this before. It feels like the type of night to finally start.

“My name,” he starts.

Hyojin shifts next to him. “Ari?”

“Ari…staeus,” he says, hesitantly. “Helios. Astutia.” He inflates his cheeks and blows the air out, trying to keep himself from cringing too hard. “You, uh… I said, before, that the ridiculous name was… partially my fault.”

“Oh?” Hyojin turns over to his side, bracing his weight on his arm and looking down at Ari beside him. He’s still holding Ari’s hand. “Do I finally get the horrible, torturous, absolutely mortifying origin story?”

Ari’s mouth is caught between cringing and grinning, a sort of lopsided half-smile that he settles on before speaking. “Well, it’s… sort of a long story.”

“The night is still young,” Hyojin argues. “We’ve got however long you need.”

He hums, unsure of how to start. Does he phrase it like a novel, like he’s recounting the story of a little boy destined to save the world? He thinks Hyojin would let him do that. “I was adopted when I was two,” he starts. “And I don’t remember much about it, but I remember that my name was Leo. When I became their son, my name was Leo. And I remember feeling like it didn’t… fit me. It didn’t feel right—to be called it. So they let me discover my own name; they let me play around with a lot, all the way into elementary, when I found the name Aristaeus and fell in love with it. I’m honestly not sure how I found it, but I think I was doomed from the moment I learned Greek mythology existed.”

He closes his eyes and reminisces on the memories, thinking back to when he had to use a step stool to reach the sink and had to get his mom to help him brush his teeth because he could never figure out how to reach the back ones.

“Then, I guess, from that moment on, I was Ari. And I loved hearing it. It felt like me. And then a few years passed, I think I was in the fifth grade, when I found out my name hadn’t been Leo at all—it was Helios. Helios. As in, the Greek God Helios. I think I nearly passed out—from shock, or sadness, or joy, I don’t even remember. And I didn’t hate the name Helios. I kind of loved it. Not as much as Ari, since I’d gotten used to it, but I kept feeling Helios tugging at me, like I couldn’t leave it alone. So I told my parents, and they said, well, why not keep them both?”

His story is cut a bit there, with a laugh as he recounts his own unnecessarily convoluted name journey. 

“So we did. And I kept Helios—just as a middle name, now. All three names, all three components of my name, are kind of… representative, I suppose. Helios, the embraced past. Aristaeus, the decided path. Astutia, the guided future. I don’t know. Sorry. This is really sappy, and it probably doesn’t even make sense—”

“I get it.”

Hyojin’s looking at him when he opens his eyes, inky-black pupils soft at the edges, framed by long lashes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean,” he shrugs, “I kinda did the same thing with mine.”

“Yours?”

“Carys,” he says. It sounds strange coming from his own mouth. “I thought you knew it wasn’t my real last name.”

Ari blinks. “Well— I just… I never questioned it.”

Hyojin’s barking laughter eases Ari’s spine, coaxing any remaining coils in his shoulders out of him. “What kind of Korean has the last name ‘Carys’ ?”

“An adopted one?”

“Touché, but no. This one… this one’s just because a boy ran away from home. My last name used to be Kang. Kang Hyojin, what I grew up as. I started hating the sound of it. Then when I came here, I wanted to, I don’t know, start fresh. Pretend I wasn’t theirs. I saw the name Carys somewhere and figured, yeah, that works.”

An urge to reach his hand over and brush Hyojin’s fringe to the side builds up in Ari’s veins, but he pushes it down and continues staring instead. “It’s Welsh, you know. The name Carys.”

“Is it? I never really looked into it.”

“It…” He bites his cheek. “It basically means ‘love’.”

Hyojin pauses at that, then laughs, a giggle building up from his throat that morphs into unfiltered laughter from his chest—the type of laugh that makes him bring his hand over his mouth, and the type that makes his mouth smile so wide it closes his eyes. “Love?” His laughter bubbles down after a while, even though Ari would happily listen to it for hours on end, and he sighs, a pretty grin still marking his cheeks. “That’s hilarious. Doesn’t really suit me, does it?”

“I disagree.”

“Do you now?”

“I do. ‘Carys’—to love. To give love, and receive it; to live under its influence, even without knowing it.” He shrugs. “I think it suits you perfectly.”

Ari tumbles into a ramble, then, about the intricacies of names and their meanings and the human subconscious. He references Freud, strangely, and Zimbardo, even more strangely. Hyojin wonders why he didn’t take Psychology. But then it occurs to him—they can’t teach anything to Ari that he doesn’t already know. He looks so precious when he’s talking. When his eyes light up, and when his cheeks round out from his growing grin, and when his brows shift between a myriad of expressions in an attempt to follow his train of thought. If Hyojin were an artist, he would spend his life trying to capture Ari’s radiance on a canvas. If he harboured the talents of Michelangelo and da Vinci and Monet combined, he still wouldn’t be able to achieve it. He’s resigned to watching, and he thinks he finally understands why he catches Ari staring so often.

His impulses get the better of him at some point, and before he knows or even realises what he’s doing, his lips are pressed against Ari’s knuckles, right at the base of his middle finger. He feels his own fingers against his nose, and he can almost feel Ari’s pulse through his lips. It’s such a shame, really, that it makes Ari stop rambling.

“What was that for?” Ari asks, half-timidly, half-charismatically, treading the line between the two versions of himself that Hyojin never tires of blurring.

Hyojin lets himself smile against Ari’s soft skin. “What, I can’t kiss you anymore? You’ve never really complained about it before.”

With a slight huff, and the slight quirk in his brow that he always gets when Hyojin falls back into his instincts of being a little shit, Ari lays an arm over his eyes. Hyojin watches him bite the skin of his lip again, and wants to kiss him to make him stop. “I never said that,” Ari mumbles, like he meant to say it in his head.

“Then I guess I’ve got permission to keep doing it.”

Ari sighs, heavy and loud, airing out his thoughts and lungs at the same time. He moves his arm away from his face, only to stare up at the sky, and Hyojin lets himself continue watching. 

He’s thought it before, but Ari’s profile really is something to behold. Not just for its beauty, but for all the little quirks it has that makes it him. How his eyes are shifting, following the stars and connecting the lights to make constellations in his head. Hyojin knows it means he's thinking—he knows it means he has something to say, but a million ways to say it, and is trying to land on one. He loves and hates when Ari gets like this—it's fascinating to watch him think; to see the cogs turn in his head, just behind his eyes. He knows that Ari spends too long in his own head and drowns himself in hypotheticals; that it might end up being the death of him. But, if given the chance to live it in the future, he could spend hours in Ari's silence, just watching, just existing beside him. It would be more than enough.

He’s not sure how long they spend like this, how many scenarios Ari has run through his head, but by the time Hyojin returns to the conscious world, the sky is completely dark, lit by hundreds of stars. Ari’s grip on his hand threatens to cut off his blood supply, and his voice is shaking when he whispers out, “Carys?”

Hyojin hums. “Yes, Ari?”

“What would you do if I told you I was in love with you?”

Ari isn't looking at him—he's looking up at the stars, almost blankly, a wide-eyed stare like the sky is a masterpiece he's never seen before. But his grip on Hyojin's hand tightens, an infinitesimal amount, and Hyojin can feel a quickening heartbeat radiating from the palm resting in his own. He resists the urge to pinch himself and joins Ari in staring up at the sky, trying to choose his words carefully. “If you told me you were,” he says, “or if you actually were?”

They know it’s not hypothetical. There’s quiet in the air, a silence that embraces hesitation and covers them both in a warmth they aren’t willing to escape. “If I actually was.”

Hyojin holds his breath.

Ari feels his heart stop.

“I’d tell you I was in love with you too.”

The air around them freezes in its tracks. It leans into them, pressing up against their backs and pushing down upon their chests. It strains its ears to listen to their breaths, the swift catch of air in their lungs.

Ari doesn't dare look away from the sky, let alone at the man whose hand he's holding.

He must be dreaming.

When he swallows, the dry walls of his throat close up, and he feels the strain of it.

He’s not dreaming.

“What?”

“I’d tell you I was in love with you too,” Hyojin repeats, a little more confidently this time.

Ari sits up with a jolt, his hair frazzled from moving around on the rock so much. He’s turned his body fully, now, to face Hyojin, deep brown eyes staring down at amused ones again, finally, beautifully, the way they were made to. Hyojin can barely help the stupid grin on his face. Ari’s not smiling—he’s too shocked for facial expressions, too shocked for human functions, just barely gathering himself enough to swallow the lump in his throat and ask, “Say that again.”

It’s not really something to laugh at, but Hyojin laughs anyway. Maybe he’s delirious. It wouldn’t surprise him. He sits up as well and takes Ari’s hand, moving it towards him again, flattening a broad palm against his chest. The soft fabric of Ari’s hoodie presses against his skin, and he’d rather Ari’s hand, but this is good enough for now. “Ari,” he says, dragging out the syllables, and smiling—that devilish smile that captured Ari in the first place. “If, in the hypothetical, you told me you love me—I’d tell you that I love you too. I’d tell you that, after years of believing romance wasn’t an option, you opened that door for me. I’d tell you that… that, sometimes, I think you came into my life to teach me what living is.”

Ari blinks at him, face blank, mouth open, eyes wide.

Hyojin laughs under his breath, feeling shy, for once in his life. “I think… I accidentally picked up on your whole fuckin’… Bridgerton-speaking thing. Which is pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic,” Ari eagerly defends. “It’s— It sounds beautiful. You sound beautiful. You know, I… I think your voice is the nicest thing I’ve ever heard. I think you could tell me to do anything, with the right inflection, and I would find myself doing it, without a hint of hesitation.”

A flutter in his chest awakens at the words; at the idea of it. He’s sure it says something about him, but he’s beyond caring. Unsure of who really leans in first, Hyojin’s gaze catches on Ari’s pink lips as their noses touch at the tips. He asks, just barely above a whisper, “Does that scare you?”

“It used to,” he answers, with a tiny hint of a chuckle, his emotions and senses coming back to him. It all still feels surreal; like a hazy dream. Hyojin feels the hand on his chest twitch at the fingers, grappling onto the fabric as if to pull him in any further. “Can I kiss you?”

Hyojin feels his own teeth digging into his lip as he smiles, like fangs cutting deep. There’s something undeniably giddy about it; sappy and indulgent. “You don’t have to ask.”

And just like that, Ari is kissing him again. Sober, this time. Maybe a little bit out of his mind, but sober and conscious. It’s nothing huge; there aren’t fireworks, nor a raging fire in their guts, but rather a blossoming warmth in their chests; like coming home. The feeling of Ari’s lips on his own is something he’s gotten used to craving now, but never something that will get old. The slightly chapped skin pressed against his, so eager and so withdrawn at the same time, the warmth that seems to never end, flooding into him. So warm; always so warm and inviting.

Ari’s hand moves from his chest to cradle the side of his neck, something that Hyojin has noticed throughout the times they’ve done this—how curious Ari's hands are; almost like they’re willing to do the things he himself isn’t. He remembers the last time Ari kissed him like this, prompted by nothing but will and certainly not alcohol, in the dark quiet of his bedroom, with bedsheets and lamplight and a first-aid kit; he remembers thinking it was too tame for him, too boring, too chaste. He was wrong. A kiss like this, from Ari—it’s more than he ever needs. It’s painfully tender, an offer of love so grand that Hyojin doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

Almost laughably, pathetically, Hyojin feels himself lose control of his own body, melting to the side like a pile of homosexual goo. Ari’s hand is strong enough to keep him upright, if only slightly tilted on an angle, his inhibitions lost to the knowledge that in this kiss, this embrace, this exact moment in the time-space continuum, Ari knows Hyojin would give everything for him. It's unlike any other.

When their lips part, Ari takes in a shaky breath and says, like it hasn’t been painstakingly obvious to the both of them, “I think I'm in love with you.”

Hyojin hears a sniffle. He can’t tell which of them is about to cry. “You think—or you know?”

“Christ,” Ari breathes out, huffing out a laugh. He knocks their foreheads together, his eyes screwed tight and his brows furrowed. His palm hugs the entire side of Hyojin’s neck, still holding him up, and he’s biting his lips again. “I know it. I know it; I'm really so in love with you, Carys, I really am.”

“I know, Ari. I know you are. I’m just having a bit of fun.” He rests his hand on top of Ari’s, on his own neck, and holds on as Ari shifts his palm up to cup his jaw. There’s a glaze over those brown eyes, a layer of unshed tears that makes the flecks in his eyes shimmer like gold. Hyojin thinks it’s quite possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever had the pleasure of witnessing. “Have you finally gotten it through your thick fucking skull that I'm in love you too? Or should I kiss you again to prove it?”

The chuckle that falls out of Ari’s mouth is almost wet, drenched in so many words that can’t seem to make it out of his throat. A tear catches on his lashes, shimmering in the moonlight. He shakes his head in disbelief, and Hyojin reaches up with his free hand to wipe the tear that forms in the corner of Ari’s eye. “It’s just… I can’t… I never thought you would. I had a hundred plans on what to do if you didn’t; what am I supposed to do now that… now that I know you do? My god, you do, don’t you?”

Hyojin laughs, unable to stop himself, as he leans forward and connects their lips again, swiftly, lovingly, sincerely. “I do. Call the conspiracy theorists, sweetheart, the most unbelievable thing just happened: a boy fell in love.” 

“You must know how difficult this all is for me to grasp.”

“I know, but it shouldn’t be. You’ve had, what, dozens of people fall for you before? Why would I be any different?”

“You are different, Carys, you’re—” His lips press together in a thin line. “You’re you.”

“I’m me,” Hyojin agrees. “And I’m in love with you. It’s not exactly rocket science. I’m not what you think I’m like, you know. Parts of me, at least. I’ll admit, at first, I wasn’t serious about this, but I am now. This is the surest I’ve ever been, in my entire godforsaken life.” Ari’s eyes are downturned a bit now, looking at the rock beneath them instead of Hyojin. He hooks a finger under Ari’s chin and gently nudges it up to meet his gaze again, watching black lashes flutter over faint freckles. “I’m serious about this, Ari. I’m in love with you. I can tell you a million times more, if it’ll help.”

“Don’t,” Ari pleads, lip quirking at the corner. “I think I might die if you do.”

“Not a bad way to go.”

Ari pouts at him slightly when he says that, an expression he probably shouldn’t find as much joy in as he does. “You’re just… it seemed so far-fetched that it didn’t even occur to me past a fantasy. Really being with you. I thought you saw me as something… something to pass the time. A one-way ticket to an easy graduation, at the least, and a good source of entertainment, at the most.”

Humming is the only thing Hyojin finds himself capable of doing—that, and playing with a strand of Ari’s hair between his fingers. He’s heard all this before. Or, something similar to it, albeit with a lot more slurring in the sentences. He’d pieced the rest of it together. 

“But now you’re… well, you’re here. And some part of me is still convinced this is all a dream. But, no matter how inconceivable this is, it’s… it’s real. You love me. You... God, I need to pinch myself.”

Hyojin beats him to it, tucking his hand into the small sliver of stomach showing from beneath Ari’s sweater and shirt, not so much pinching him but rather lightly poking him. “It’s real,” he confirms. “I know I’m an absolute dreamboat, but it’s real. You have me all to yourself.”

A broad palm circles his wrist and halts his curious hand where it is, fingertips just barely brushing against Ari’s stomach. He’s so warm; Hyojin wants to shrink himself enough to fit completely into Ari’s embrace. He wouldn’t even have to shrink that much for it to be possible. “I think you being influenced by my vocabulary has finally come back to kick me in the ass.”

“I’ll never be able to beat you, though, that’s for fucking sure.”

“Not even if you tried.” Hyojin has missed this version of Ari for much longer than he realised; every version of Ari is more than enough for him, but he hadn’t realised just how electric it feels to have Ari quip back at him, sharp wit and sharper tongue. He thinks back to a time in January, when Ari had been outright with his disapproval of Hyojin’s antics, and Hyojin had been entirely convinced fucking around with the school president’s nerves was the best opportunity he’d ever gotten. “I can spout romantic nonsense for eons.”

They don’t mention the fact that Ari’s hand is still on Hyojin’s neck, or the fact that Hyojin’s fingers are tracing patterns just above Ari’s waistband, or the fact that everything has just come to its inexplicable head. Hyojin feels like they’ve done enough of the whole ‘look at the big picture’ thing to last—that, for now, they’re allowed to just be. “The floor is yours, then.”

Ari’s thumb brushes against Hyojin’s cheek, and he watches it travel against soft, porcelain skin. The pad of his finger hits the corner of Hyojin’s lip, following the stretch when Hyojin smiles, and Ari lets himself indulge. “Do you know of the entanglement theory?” He starts, dozens of passages in his journal filling his mind at once, a million words in his throat and only one voice to convey them. 

“Nope,” Hyojin, top student of the physics cohort and class-act liar, answers. “Teach me.”

“Quantum entanglement,” Ari says. “Two particles, linked together for eternity, even light-years apart, destined to forever affect each other. If someone were to ask me what you are to me, that’s what I would tell them—an unstoppable force of nature that changed my life. I felt it, from the very first moment I saw you. You were an absolute wreck, covered in scars, and blood, and you radiated danger. You seemed like everything I wanted to avoid. And yet—your eyes. You looked at me, and against all of my instincts, I kept looking back. It was inexplicable. And this—” He rests their foreheads together again, closing his eyes, letting his senses take in the moment. “This was inevitable. That’s what I think—I think everything we’ve done in life has led to this; to us; to me loving you. I refuse to believe you entered my life without some form of divine intervention preceding you.”

A breathless sort of laugh escapes Hyojin’s chest before he can help it, overwhelmed with it all in the most blissful way. “Right,” he says, “okay. You can do that,” He levels, knowing he’ll never be able to beat Ari in saying things that sound straight from a cheesy period drama without wanting to off himself, “but I can do this.” He kisses Ari again, just for the sake of it, not wanting to lose any of the warmth between them. “Just because I want to.”

That beautifully familiar red flush blooms on Ari’s cheeks and at the tips of his ears, steadily painting his neck, too. “It’s not like the conditions ever stopped you before.”

“It’s like you said,” Hyojin argues, “it’s different. ‘Cause I’m not kissing my fake boyfriend anymore—I’m kissing Aristaeus Astutia, my very real boyfriend. If you’ll have me, of course.”

“Are you kidding?” Ari laughs, half-hysterical, “After all of that, and you ask me if I’d have you?” The kisses he gives are much different to Hyojin’s, but euphoric nonetheless. Where Hyojin surges forward with fire and lightning, Ari dances through with an almost airy sort of innocence. “Of course. Of course I would, Carys, you shouldn’t even have to ask. Even in a different universe; even if you were a worm.”

Hyojin laughs at that, so hard that it shakes his shoulders and scrunches his nose. His hands are much too preoccupied with holding Ari close to cover his mouth, the wide grin and sharp fangs and pink gums. But he feels, with Ari, he can lose that habit of his. He leans forward with his laughter, his forehead hitting Ari’s shoulder and resting there. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he chides, his cheeks aching from smiling in such excess. “You’re horrible. I love you so goddamn much, it’s pathetic.”

“Absolutely tragic, it is. And what does that say about me?”

With a deep breath, in which Hyojin gets an inhale-full of Ari’s scent that leaves him giddy, Hyojin, in an outburst, stands up to his full height, almost toppling Ari over in the process. He strips his clothes off, leaving them in a pile on the rock, and before Ari can gather himself from his gleeful laughter, Hyojin takes a running start and cannonballs straight into the water.

Ari’s half delirious with his laughter, leaning over the side of the rock to watch Hyojin swim closer to the shore and float up to the surface. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks, entirely amused.

“Cooling down!” Hyojin answers, before splashing his face with the water and sweeping his hair back. The water’s clearer than Ari expected, and he can see the mix of sand and rocks that Hyojin stands on beneath the ripples. “C’mere,” he calls, stretching his arms out like he’s inviting Ari into a hug. “C’mon, jump in!”

“You’re a madman.”

“And you love it!”

That’s all the convincing it takes for Ari to start undressing too, haphazardly folding his clothes before he joins Hyojin in the water, a tad bit more graceful than his companion.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Hyojin says, when Ari reaches the surface and the water’s ripples have calmed enough for them to hear each other.

“Hi. It’s cold in here.”

“It is the middle of the night.”

“You’re responsible for my health if I get a cold from this.”

“Oh, I’m a great nurse, don’t worry.” He glides through the water to reach Ari, who finds himself sitting on the floor of the lake, the water reaching just past his shoulders, to avoid the cold night air. Hyojin kneels between his legs, the slightest bit taller than him like this, a pair of warm hands finding their way to the sides of Ari’s neck. “Still cold?”

“A little.” He smiles. “Any ideas on how to warm me up?”

“Plenty.” Hyojin kisses him then, again, and Ari feels even warmer inside when he realises he’s lost count of how many times they’ve done that tonight.

“So, um,” Ari says, a minute or so later, when he can finally use his mouth for talking again, “This… Just so we’re both, uh— on the same page about things, because, quite frankly, I think I’ve had enough emotional turmoil to last a lifetime, what, uh…” Half of his bottom lip disappears behind his teeth as he sucks it in, his gaze averted, watching the ripples in the water beside him. “We’re… together, now, right? Like, together- together? Because—”

Hyojin’s laughter interrupts him, though he’s not too mad about it, and Hyojin even takes the time to splash a bit of water between them, hitting Ari’s chin. “Yes, Ari, we’re together. I thought that’d gotten through your head when I called you my boyfriend.”

“Sorry, it’s just— I just need to make sure it’s all real, still.”

“Do you want me to pinch you again?”

“I’d rather you not do that, please.”

He’s muddled into nothing but a bundle of nerves as he watches Hyojin shift in the water, sitting between his legs, two pale thighs against his waist, and two slender arms resting on his shoulders. “We did all the steps in such a wrong fucking order,” he says, a slight hum beneath his words. “I’m surprised you didn’t have a mental breakdown.”

“Oh, I did. Multiple. I think you sent me into a quarter-life crisis.”

“Careful. You’re stroking my ego again.”

“I can’t think of anything that wouldn’t.” He’s missed this feeling; existing with Hyojin and letting his mouth run wild without a second thought, without having to analyse every word before he says it. 

Hyojin chuckles through a closed-lipped, lopsided grin, and Ari thinks he’s never seen something so beautiful before. “We’ve been together for a lot longer than a few minutes, you know. Since Valentine’s Day, as stupidly sappy as that is. Just now, it’s… well, different for us. They’ll never have to know.”

“I thought we moved past the whole secrecy thing.”

“Secrecy between us,” he corrects. “We can keep a few mysteries for the rest of them. I like having you all to myself.”

Ari’s smile is something more of a tight-lipped line, like he’s trying not to laugh. “I guess I did influence you a lot. You’re being so sentimental. It’s cute.”

With a click of his tongue, Hyojin pinches both of Ari’s cheeks and pulls them, gently, glaring down at him. “Shut up, would you? Here I am, being vulnerable, and you—”

“Are falling more and more in love with you by the second.” He wraps his arms around Hyojin’s torso, pulling him in closer, lifting his chin to meet Hyojin’s gaze. “You’ll never have to worry about being too cheesy with me—I’ll always beat you.”

“I can be as horribly fucking cringe as I want, then?”

“It’d be my absolute pleasure to listen.”

Hyojin rolls his eyes, but his smile grows wider. “I’ve told you this before, but you really are something special, you know that? You’re a literal fucking tornado in my life, and ever since you got here, everything’s gone to shit.”

“Is this supposed to be you complimenting me?”

“I’ll get around to that eventually, dickhead. Patience is a virtue.”

“So is kindness.”

Hyojin pinches the tip of Ari’s nose. “Whatever happened to taking pleasure in listening, huh?”

Ari laughs, the corners of his eyes creasing and his shoulders shaking with it. “Sorry, sorry. Please, do continue. I’ll shut up.”

“You’re a shitstorm of emotions,” Hyojin reiterates, much to Ari’s amusement. “You swooped into my life and fucked around with everything I’d built, and I hardly knew what to fucking do with myself. I’m not scared of a lot of things, but you terrified me. You, and all these horrible feelings—completely uncharted territory for me. I honestly thought that it just wasn’t going to be an option for me, and I was fine with that, until I thought about never having it with you. And, fuck, if that didn’t hurt.”

Ari watches him from the end of his chin, brown eyes wide and curious and calm. 

“I’ll admit I played around with you more than I should have. That’s my bad. I was having too much fun with you, and it was the easiest way to get the things I wanted without having to think too much. Or think at all, really. I didn’t know if you were gonna stick around, since no one else really did, so I guess I just thought I’d take what I could get before you left.” He sighs, gently shaking his head to get his hair out of his eyes. “I’m not great at shit like this, if my track record is any indication, but I promise I’ll cherish you. Because you deserve a love story that people will write poems about.”

“You’re not shit at this. You’re pretty amazing, actually.”

He smiles. “I’ve got a good teacher.”

They spend the evening there, switching between deep talks, to just comfortable silence, to playing in the water. It’s like all of the weight on their chests have been completely lifted; relief takes the form of relaxation. The sky provides their illumination in starlight, shining upon their faces for each other to see and smile at and kiss. Hours pass by, wherein countless conversations take up their time, catching up on hours of things unsaid.

Later—Hyojin pulls Ari behind the waterfall, sitting into a little alcove, his eyes bright. “When did you realise?”

“Right after Maki’s party.”

“After we made out in his kitchen?”

“Mhm. Poetic, isn’t it?”

“And deeply flattering.”

“What about you?”

“When we were at Archambeau. After the fight.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“What made you… realise?”

“Embarrassingly enough, I think it was Jaime. He kept talking about how obvious it was that I was head-over-heels in love with you. It got me thinking. And I'd… Well, I’ve never dated anyone seriously before, but I thought about it with you, and I liked the idea of it. So that was that.”

Ari blinks. “You’ve never dated anyone before?”

“Nah.”

“But… But you’re so…”

“Fucking people doesn’t mean dating them, sweetheart.” Ari chokes on his spit. “Enough about my whorish tendencies—I’m a changed man. What about you? What made you realise?”

Ari chews on his lip. “Because you— um… I…” He hides his face in his hands. “Because I really enjoyed you kissing me.”

Hyojin’s laughter echoes into the night. “Hey, what do you know—looks like the fucking around did help.”

Later—Ari plays with Hyojin’s damp hair, loosely braiding it, as Hyojin plays with the water in his hands, watching the ripples his movements make. “I thought I wasn’t enough for you.”

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you .”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. You’re Ari, for fuck’s sake.”

“Come on, now, that’s not—”

“You had people literally falling on their knees for you. And— well, you were just… you seemed so… romantic. Like, you can quote so many lines about love, and all these great, sappy romance stories, and I thought you’d never really be satisfied with me. I’m not that sort.”

“Shut up,” Ari says, almost uncharacteristically shocked—it makes Hyojin blink, then laugh a little, out of shock himself. “I would never—” He clears his throat, then hums. “I would reprimand you for being so dumb, but I was the exact same way, so I’ll… I don’t think I have the authority for that.”

Hyojin does laugh at that now, giddy and amused. “Oh, I’m well aware of what you thought about me. Guess I didn’t really help the whole situation, huh?”

“No, it’s my fault, for assuming things about you. Though… I guess you take some of the blame, for being so promiscuous.”

“I think that’s the fanciest way I’ve ever been called a slut.”

Later—Hyojin confesses that Lucio knows the true nature of their fake-tionship, to which Ari’s jaw drops, and he stammers out questions of what, when, how, why. “He found out that time I swung by the council room while I was suspended,” Hyojin explains, “by eavesdropping like the little rat that he is. He told me about it at his birthday party; tried threatening me not to hurt you. That was the first time I’d admitted that I loved you out loud, now that I think about it.”

“Wow,” Ari breathes out, in disbelief, reanalysing his interactions with his best friend following said event. “So you two weren’t talking about Pokemon?” 

Later—Ari floats along the water’s surface as a giant starfish, Hyojin’s hands gently supporting him on his back, guiding him slowly around the entire lake. “I have a journal that I write in sometimes. Two, actually. And I, uh… I mention you in them a lot. Have been, for a while. That might be weird to know, sorry.”

“I almost don’t want to tell you this, but since we’re being honest, I’ll admit that I know. Because you’ve told me this before.”

“I have?”

“You were drunk at the time.”

“I was what?” Ari blinks. “Oh. Oh god. Oh my god , Maki’s afterparty, I— I…”

“You really don’t remember anything about it?”

“It’s… a bit hazy. Honestly, between waking up and coming here, I haven’t had the time to wrack my brain for the memories.” He stays silent for a bit, searching the files of his brain, idly biting the skin on his bottom lip. “I can’t say I do,” he finally answers, after getting nothing but the brief, blurry reminiscence of the prom itself, then a few tidbits of scenes, up to where he thinks is someone offering him a bottle of something. “I remember brooding a bit. A lot. I remember walking through the hallways, watching everyone, and feeling sorry for myself. After that, I… it’s all a little fuzzy.”

Half amused and half horrified, Hyojin recounts the night in the perfect detail that he remembers it himself, choosing to opt out of admitting that (a) he’d nearly cried out of pure emotional turmoil, and (b) he’d nearly thrown out all of his decency and done something disgustingly irreparable. 

Everything else is free game—Ari flopped over on the ground and tugging away at his clothes (to which Ari hangs his head in shame); Ari taking the unholy lead whilst making out with Hyojin, his over-curious hands, and the less-than-surprising bedroom tendencies that Hyojin had learnt about him (to which Ari blushes profusely and threatens to drown himself out of embarrassment); Ari, drunk, delirious, out of his goddamn mind and predictably-sentimental, confessing about having written about them, about Hyojin in particular, with about as much shame as someone invincible (to which Ari, very quietly, apologises—receiving a kiss on the forehead and reassurance in turn).

“I told my parents,” Ari says, after maybe half an hour of comfortable silence, both of them now floating on their backs in the water, staring up at the stars. “Right after I realised I was in love with you. I felt like I was getting a cheap, trial-version of it, because I’d only realised after you kissed me, and they helped me sort through all of that.”

“I talked to them about it too,” Hyojin says, closer to the shore, his elbows resting on the sandy floor, idly kicking the water in front of him. “This morning, actually. Before you woke up. Aissatou got a little mad at me.”

“Mom did? Wow. That doesn’t happen very often.”

“I’m honestly a little scared of her.”

“You should be. She’s terrifying when she’s angry.”

“She basically told me we were being stupid.” He chuckles. “She wasn’t wrong.” He watches Ari lift his head and meet his gaze, both of them smiling, almost laughing at their own absurdities. “I wasn’t exactly going about it the best way.”

“Well, neither was I.”

“She asked me to confess to you. If you didn’t, eventually.” Hyojin watches as Ari glides over to him, sidling up beside him, half-underwater. “I’m glad you did.”

Ari snorts. “Only took me a hundred counts of overthinking.” He tries to blow a wet strand of hair away from his face, and when that doesn’t work, he brushes his hair all back with a hand, and sighs. “I don’t even know why I was so scared. Okay, I know why, but… it all seems so stupid now. It’s like when I first met you. I waited so long to do anything about it, to be your friend, and wasted so much time, when I could’ve spent all that time… well, being with you.”

The sky starts to grow brighter, a lighter shade of blue, before orange and pink starts to creep into the spaces where the stars used to shine. The sun is rising. Ari’s surprised that he doesn’t feel tired, having stayed up the entire night, but Hyojin is in his arms, staring up at the sky, and the mere idea of it is enough to warm Ari’s soul enough to keep going for a whole other day.

At some point, they finally hop out of the water and make their way up to the rock again, lounging around in the quiet early dawn as their bodies dry up. Hyojin laughs wildly when Ari shakes his head like a dog to dry it, and they fall into another fit of laughter, following each other like dominoes with no end. Ari watches Hyojin steal his shirt and dry his hair with it, poking a tongue out at him. They get dressed, they talk a bit more, about things that seem so insignificant and meaningless but Ari knows will live in his mind forever, carving out his soul, and they hike back down the cliff, holding hands on the way down for longer than they have to.

When they make it back to the beach, the sun has left the horizon, sitting atop it like it’s a weightless thing, and Ari watches as it covers the entire beach in soft, pink rays—almost like the golden hour, but not quite, something more similar to a wine red. Rose-tinted, he thinks, when he looks at Hyojin next to him, strolling along the sand with him, their footsteps deep in the grains. His hair is curlier when it’s damp. His skin looks paler in this light. And his lips look warm.

“You know what, Carys?” Ari says, quietly, just as Hyojin climbs up onto the boardwalk and his voice starts to feel hoarse from all the hours spent confessing. “I think I should kiss you again.”

Hyojin smiles at him, swinging his body around and letting his legs dangle from the wooden platform. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to.”

“Well,” Hyojin says, leaning over to meet Ari in the middle, “There’s nothing stopping you.”

| A.A. |

The strangest thing about all of this, journal, is that I don’t look back and wish I could change anything. I thought I would—I thought I’d think back to these last few months and want to kick myself in the ass, but all I feel is… well, insert word here. My vocabulary is big, but I think I’ve used up all of my intelligence already. One doesn’t simply ‘talk’ to Hyojin Carys. 

We’re back home, now. My home. We said our goodbyes to the Lees, then Carys drove us back. I guess I can cross "ride into the sunrise on a motorcycle" off my bucket list. Not that it was on there in the first place.

We’ve got school in a bit, and Carys is in the shower, and I’m in my room, halfway to losing my mind, I think. I still can’t believe it’s all real. I keep pinching myself and expecting to wake up. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation.

Somewhere in here I mentioned the possibility of historians getting a hold of these words. I’ll be honest, the thought of it makes me want to crawl up and die. But I think if I’m already gone by the time they find this, it’ll be alright to be remembered like this. A little stupid, a little in love. A lot of both, actually. 

I’m not sure it’d make a great movie. I have my happy ending. Not much of an ending, but something close to it, anyway. Historians, if you’re still reading this, first of all, I’m very sorry for all of this. Second of all, I hope this helped you understand how stupid humanity is, and always has been, and always will be. Third of all—

「 april 1 | monday | 8:08am 」

“Hope you’re writing love poems about me.”

Ari closes his journal just in time for Hyojin to sidle up behind him at the desk, a slim arm wrapping around his shoulders and a short kiss pressing against his temple. “I hate to break your heart, but I’m not.”

“That’s truly upsetting.”

“Not this time, at least.”

“Good save.”

Ari’s already in his uniform, but Hyojin has come in shirtless (unsurprisingly) and with the same sweatpants he’d stolen yesterday. His hair is still a little damp, but from the shower this time, and he looks characteristically tired—an expression that Ari has learned to just be his natural face. “You should probably start getting ready. We’ll leave soon—I’ll drive.”

Hyojin shrugs with one shoulder, making himself comfortable on the edge of Ari’s bed. “I don’t have my uniform here, so I’ll probably just skip.”

“You’re going to skip? You do know who you’re talking to, right?”

“I’m well aware who I’m talking to, Ari. Just because I’m dating the school president, doesn’t mean I follow the rules. I mean, it’s basically all I’m known for.”

Ari grumbles a bit, getting up and searching through his wardrobe to find his old uniform from before he had the growth spurt to end all growth spurts. He hands Hyojin a neat pile of school clothes, dropping them onto his lap, and points a finger at his chest. “You’re going.”

With a wonky smile and a mischevious glint in his eye, Hyojin looks down at the clothes, then back up to Ari. “You should pull rank more often. It’s kinda hot.”

Ari rolls his eyes and sits back down, opening his current read—Yu Hua’s To Live —and letting Hyojin get dressed. He finds he can’t exactly concentrate on the words with the knowledge of Hyojin existing behind him, a constant distraction just with his presence. He resigns to idly looking around his desk, fighting the urge to turn around. “It’s April first,” he says, eyeing the calendar beside his clock.

Hyojin buttons his shirt. “Yeah, and?”

“April Fool’s day.” He tilts his head. “This is all real, right? This isn’t an April Fool’s joke?”

His chair swivels around by Hyojin’s hand, and he’s met with an increasingly amused face. “God. You’re adorable. And so dumb. No, it’s not a prank. Yes, it’s real.” He presses a quick kiss to Ari’s lips. “Now, then,” he says, pulling a black tie around his neck, “Would you do me the honour, prez?”

Ari reaches up to hold the black satin between his fingers. “Surely you’ve learnt this by now.”

“For old times’ sake.”

“Hm. I have a feeling I’ll be hearing that excuse for the rest of my life.”

“Oh, without a doubt. You’re stuck with me now.”

Ari snorts, but he ties it for him anyway, slower than it really takes, basking in the comfortable silence. He goes through the motions like it’s therapeutic, painfully aware of the flush growing on his cheeks as Hyojin stares at him.

“This is your old uniform, huh?”

“Yeah. Freshman year.”

“I can tell. It’s… small.”

“Too small?”

“No, it fits fine. I’m not used to it actually fitting. It feels… weird. And proper.”

“It looks good.”

“You’re biased.”

“Maybe. But I’m not blind.”

Hyojin pinches his nose again. He hopes it doesn’t become a thing. “C’mon,” Hyojin says, moving away and running a hand through his hair. “We’re already gonna be late; let’s at least get there before class starts.”

“Since when do you care about arriving before the bell?”

“Since I started dating the president,” Hyojin answers, rolling his eyes. “Who would probably rather eat food off the floor than get a late slip. I’m doing this for you, sweetheart—sacrificing my hard-earned reputation. Never doubt my love for you.”

Ari laughs, grabbing Hyojin’s hand and pulling his boyfriend back to him, kissing his knuckles. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

| A.A. |

—Third of all, thanks for sticking around all this time.

Oh, and—I don’t need that script anymore.

I’ve got it from here.

[to be continued...]

Chapter Text

「 june 24 | monday 」

The graduation ceremony for the class of ‘24 takes place in the school’s auditorium approaching the evening, after a long day of saying farewells to teachers, revisiting old classrooms, and mayhem involving non-harmful colourful foam exploding out of the chemistry labs that had left the hallways bright neon green.

Now dressed in their graduation gowns, and considerably less nonsensical, the seniors sit in their rows, buzzing with an array of emotions as they approach their last moments of school.

Ari sits in the front row with Amir beside him, both clutching onto printed speeches as the entire auditorium listens to Principal Adithan’s address. Always a man of sentiment, his introduction goes for much longer than it needs to, filled with powerful quotes, bits of humour, and relayed messages of hope and joy from the staff.

All in all, it’s just another one of his patented weepy speeches, but this time Ari notices a lot more students actually paying attention to his words and letting them soak in. 

The ceremony itself is nothing more than expected, and Ari isn’t surprised when he feels the backs of his eyes start to prick with tears as he climbs up the stairs to stride across the stage. His moms’ (and Lucio’s dads’) wild cheering doesn’t go unnoticed as he marches along, and he’d feel embarrassed if he wasn’t laser-focused on the certificate in Adithan’s hand, waiting for him.

Ari’s name starts the ceremony off as the valedictorian, which is something he can hardly believe he’s truly achieved. He steps into the limelight like a second home, accepting a trophy in his hands, a medal around his neck, and a title that makes him feel giddy. He shares a firm handshake with Adithan, who may or may not be crying behind those thick glasses, and who pats him on the back as he hands over the diploma and tells him, “Congratulations on graduating, Ari. You’ve left behind a legacy of kindness and courage—you’ve made this school a better place. We’ll miss you, and we’re all incredibly proud of the man you’ve become.”

Ari nearly bawls his eyes out.

He takes his seat with grace and slightly blurry vision, then takes it upon himself to clap like a madman for every one of his classmates following. The wide grins on their faces make all the rowdiness worth it. (Without a certain troublemaker there, someone had to bend the peace a bit. For tradition’s sake.)

Hyojin’s name is skipped, a favour personally asked, and Ari claps extra loud for the person following to make up for the applause he feels he still needs to give.

Maki cartwheels onto the stage to make an entrance, pointing out to the crowd like he’s a rockstar at a concert and not a student in an auditorium, and seals the deal by taking a selfie with the principal right on stage.

Lucio shakes Adithan’s hand with such excitable force that it nearly makes the poor man fumble, then proceeds to roll his sleeve up and flex for good measure, very pointedly nodding in approval at the cheers he gets. Leave it to the track-and-field champ to do such a thing, Ari thinks, already deciding on making fun of him for it later.

Jaime flourishes his Prom Queen crown as he walks like it’s a real crown jewel, sitting atop his mass of curls so precariously Ari thinks it just might fall off his head. He gets his diploma, then takes off his crown and throws it into the crowd—it’s caught by Maki, which shouldn’t surprise anyone, who promptly cups his hands around his mouth and barks , Ari supposes in school spirit, a completely loose thread from beginning to end.

And after Amir receives their own diploma, with a glimmering grin and a quite-literal twirl in their step, Ari hurriedly sneaks to the side of the stage and takes it from them, leaving them to stay on stage as Adithan introduces them to make a speech as the vice-president.

Ari puts both his and Amir’s certificates onto the empty seat next to him, folds his hands into his lap, and smiles so wide it starts to hurt his cheeks.

Amir takes the stand and greets the audience with a strong voice and a stronger gaze. If there’s anything about the president and vice, it’s that they can both deliver a great goddamn speech. “What an evening!” Amir says, by way of introduction, their bright voice easing all the tension in the room. They’d made a spectacular team for the year, and Ari is sure he’ll miss it in all the years following.

Their speech is more of a casual conversation than anything else, which was very much intentional—a nice, calm break between Adithan’s and Ari’s undoubtedly intense monologues—and even includes a slideshow presentation, reminiscing on some of the most memorable events of their four years at the academy.

Up pops a photo of their freshman-year dance, and Ari faces his younger self with embarrassment that borders on shame. A huge, blown-up photo of fifteen-year-old him giving the camera an awkward thumbs-up at the punch bowl, wearing a suit two sizes too big for him and his hair sticking out at his ears, where the gel had grown weak. A tiny Lucio stands next to him in the photo as well, caught mid-way through filling his cup with punch. His hair was so much shorter back then, only a short, spiky ponytail at the bottom of his nape. And oh, how Ari misses Lucio's extreme case of baby-face.

The slideshow goes on for quite a while, though with every passing picture new laughter bubbles into the crowd and new conversations start as Amir calls up on people for their commentary; it feels, almost, like not enough—like they’re truly cherishing their last moments, not wanting to let it all go. 

There is a distinct lack of Hyojin in all of the senior-year pictures, an expert at avoiding the camera, up until one focused entirely on him, like a horribly artistic car crash that you can’t look away from: his fight with Ben. It warrants a few laughs and a few more cheers, before Adithan ushers Amir to move on quickly, for appropriate reasons’ sake.

They glide through the next dozen or so photos, mentioning each appearance by name like a sports commentator, and Ari laughs at how well they fit the spotlight.

Then a picture of the Senior-Junior Prom comes up next, of him and Hyojin on the stage, accepting their joint crown—or, well, Ari handing the crown to Hyojin, and Hyojin about to accept. It seems like such a long time ago. He stares at the photo for as long as his ego allows him to, analysing his own body language, the way he almost leans into Hyojin’s, and the way Hyojin stares up at him with hopeful eyes. The crown between their chests; the soft smiles they shared as Ari whispered his sappy little words.

A student sitting behind Ari leans over to him and whisper s, “lovebirds,” and he nearly laughs out loud. God, they really had been, hadn’t they? In that photo—and they weren’t even together yet, at Prom. Well, not officially, at least.

He wonders if Hyojin would’ve laughed along with the slideshow, too, and risks a glance behind him, to the rows of seniors, all focused on the stage. He catches the empty seat with Hyojin’s name on it, and thinks back to last night, lying in Hyojin’s bed and holding his hand under the covers, whispering to each other despite the guaranteed privacy.

“Ah, I’m not too sure I’ll come at all,” Hyojin had told him. Just for some personal reasons, he’d said, and Ari hadn’t been one to pry. In fact, he felt he understood perfectly well.

“That’s fine,” he reassured. “Don’t feel pressured to—you’re graduating either way, with or without being present at the huge ceremony. I can grab your papers if you want, so you don’t have to swing by at all?”

Hyojin had shrugged at that, his eyes staring into nothing, filled with thoughts. “Nah, shouldn’t have to. We’ll see, I guess. Don’t think about me during it, though, you’ve got your own ass to worry about.”

“You’re asking me to not think about you? Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

That’s what Ari had said, anyway, but he quickly learned, only a few minutes into the ceremony, that he did in fact have his own ass to worry about.

Trying to keep the senior prank under wraps had given him enough distraction throughout the day, but as the evening approached, he had fewer and fewer things to distract himself from the final speech he’d make—not only as the student body president, but as the valedictorian. All of his speeches have been known to be eloquent thought pieces, but this last one was sure to be an absolute doozy—or so he hopes, having spent nearly three months writing and perfecting it.

Nothing less for his last; he's got to go out with a bang.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and normally he’d ignore it, but this time he knows only one person it could be.

Hyojin Carys :)

pretty boy

have you done your speech yet

Carys

Not yet

nervous?

A bit

dont be

How reassuring

Thank you so very much

alright princess dont get an attitude

thats my thing

I thought your thing was rugged good looks?

i can have multiple things

im a man of many talents ari

That you are

im surprised youre replying this much

isnt there a ceremony for you to pay attention to

or is it that youre acting out?

I am not ‘acting out’

Amir is delivering their speech right now

Well it’s more like a standup routine at this point

I’m sure they’d forgive me

wow i cant believe youre acting out

:|

on graduation no less

my influence has finally taken effect

Sure. Your influence has taken effect

i can finally stop dating you

That joke will never get old?

nah

Fine with me

I know I have you locked in

youre hot when youre cocky

I learn from the best

alright sweetheart as much as i’d love to keep this up

you have a speech to make soon

Oh, don’t remind me…

im reminding you

Thanks.

ill make sure to ask your ma for the recording later

I beg you to not

you beg me to do a lot of things

I’m afraid I’ve lost service. So sorry.

ha

good luck

youll do great

you always do

I love you

thought you had no service

I’m putting my phone away.

i love you too

:)

Amir’s speech-slash-talkshow wraps up with a few cheerful remarks from them, wishing everybody a wonderful rest of the ceremony and a reminder to all students of a guaranteed once-in-a-lifetime celebration at the Hino mansion later this evening, much to the chagrin of many staff and the amusement of one very tearful principal.

“I’d now like to invite a very special boy to the stage,” Amir says, with a twinkle in their eye as they meet Ari’s gaze. “Our school president, and the valedictorian of the graduating class of 2024. Our local tryhard that we love very, very much.” Ari rolls his eyes at this, but everyone else seems to find it spectacularly hilarious. “Please join me in welcoming: Ari Astutia.”

Cheers from students, staff, guests and parents alike build up as he takes the stage, and he lets it fuel his confidence. He and Amir hug instead of shaking hands, though he doesn’t think anyone will hold it against them for being extra sentimental.

He takes the mic and greets the crowd, nearly downright bursting into tears when he sees Lucio in the crowd with the biggest grin on his face Ari has ever seen. ‘I’m so fucking proud of you,’ Lucio had told him in the cafeteria on Friday, after Ari’s name had been called over the speakers as valedictorian. Looking at him now, Ari can almost hear him saying it again, and it tugs on something deep in his chest.

“Good evening,” he says, with one final sweeping glance at his audience. “I stand before you today as your student president, your valedictorian, and the second-place Prom King.” People laugh at that, even the teachers, and it vanquishes the last of his nerves. 

He recites the speech and learns that he has it almost memorised line by line, and because he can’t help himself, he even adds a few more points in the mix—thanking the staff, reminiscing with the students, making bold claims about lifelong connections and worthwhile memories.

Then it all funnels down to his final point, taunting him on the paper. He hadn’t gotten around to actually writing for it—he didn’t think he’d end up wanting to bring it up. But something compels him to do it anyway.

He folds up his paper and takes a deep breath.

“Standing here, and making this speech, reminds me of Prom. I remember, on that night, I told you all that it was a bit on the nose for me to claim both titles—president and king. With valedictorian in the mix now, I don’t think it will come as a surprise to you all that I have based my entire schooling experience on gaining these achievements. If you know me, you will know that this is hardly something out of the blue. I know I’ve been rather loud in my craving for this, and I apologise to all those that had to put up with me. But I am not lying when I say it—I worked hard with these goals in mind. And while I am beyond grateful that I was given the chance for all of them, I also stand here before you all, acknowledging that there is, in fact, more to life than titles.”

He’s halfway through the next word when one of the doors bursts open, and in struts none other than his own boyfriend, caught red-handed with his gown half-on and his helmet still in his hand. 

Hyojin seems to have realised his severe lapse in judgement as the entire room turns to look at the ruckus he’s caused, and for a moment or two, he stutters in his confident stride.

But then he meets Ari’s eyes on the stage, and flashes a wide grin.

Ari thinks it’s all tragically poetic. “Decided to finally grace us with your presence, dear Carys?” He laughs, breaking the awkward tension and getting the room to laugh with him. 

Hyojin laughs right along with them, leaning into it as he bows and answers, loud enough to carry through the auditorium, “I’m fashionably late, prez!” He winks, and Ari rolls his eyes, but laughs anyway. “Don’t mind me,” he yells out, as he shuffles to his seat and adjusts his gown accordingly, “Please, continue!”

 It warms Ari’s heart to look out to the crowd and see people giggling, or unabashedly laughing, some of them even leaning over to give Hyojin a pat on the back or a high-five. Not a single one of them looking at Hyojin with malice—just pure joy; amusement; appreciation. He has come so far.

“As I was saying,” Ari continues, his cheeks starting to sting from his grin, “There is more to life than the achievements we yearn for. Which is something that took me very long to learn, and that I hope takes all of you just this one afternoon to believe in.

“You see, through all that hard work of mine, through all of that determination to have the highest grades, to be the perfect role model, to gain these achievements—I forgot to look past them, and see what else was left. I was so focused on being the best student that it ended up being the only thing I was—for all twelve years, there was nothing more important to me than getting to the top of the ladder. But the thing they don’t tell you about being at the top—is that it’s scary. It’s terrifying. It feels like there’s nothing for you further, and refusal to look down leaves you paralyzed. You’re left wondering, ‘What else is there? What comes next?’ And I’ll tell you now, class of 2024: it is okay not to know. That’s something I struggled with. After so long of working to always know exactly what to do, or say, or feel, in any given situation—I finally realised that it was simply okay not to know. 

“I have this friend,” he starts, before laughing at how absurd it is, “No, alright, I have… this lover. A lover. Who held out his hand and told me it was alright to jump off that ladder. He told me that from here, I become Ari. And that is all I’ll ever need to be. He told me that there is more to me than the titles—that after all this is over, it is not the end, but rather, the next chapter. And no matter what, we will always have that next page—for as long as we live, we will have that next page. So don’t be too quick to turn it; don’t be so quick to leave the last chapter in the hopes that the next will hold all the answers. Take what you have learnt here, from teachers and friends alike; absorb it, let it lay rest in your bones—take this moment to truly relish in all of it. Cherish what you have. Cherish the legacies you leave, and the memories you bring with you, and every mistake you’ve ever made. They are there to help you grow, to lift you and to guide you.

“From here, you all become yourselves. And I know not a single one of you is above stopping and smelling the roses, so I implore you to go and do exactly that. Just like I’ve asked of you today, take those little moments in your life to stop, and breathe, and let life into your lungs. Because we are all much too eager to get to our futures—parents and teachers, stick with me here, please—that we often forget that what we have now, and what we have in front of us, is just as much part of us as any potential future is. It is dangerously easy to look back on your life with regret, and wish you had more time. I know I’m already a victim of that. So take those moments, before you live to regret not taking them. At the end of the line, your lives are not given meaning because of your achievements—they are given meaning because of the moments you experience and the people you share them with.

“Stop and smell the roses. Hold a couple hands. Share a thousand smiles. Make a life for yourself so full of love and laughter and joy that you can look back on it in any amount of years and realise that you wouldn’t change a single thing.”