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nine transfers schools because they want a fresh start: a new school with new people who won’t insist on calling them by their birth name just because it’s what they’ve always known them as.
“my name is nine,” they say when introducing themself to their new class. “like the number.”
they refuse to let any of the students here know them by their old name, and they’re surprised that even the teacher seems willing to go along with it. they expected they’d meet resistance there, but mr. shin doesn’t interrupt nine or ask why their name doesn’t match the one on his attendance sheet. he lets nine be nine, and as they take their seat in the back of the classroom, this easy acceptance settles under nine’s skin, blossoming into confidence over the following weeks.
things aren’t perfect—the school still has its share of bullies, and nine runs into them pretty early in the semester. the worst culprits seem to be two upperclassmen nine hasn’t learned the names of; their main target, a shy artist who sits next to nine in class.
they catch the upperclassmen threatening to get physical with him one day between classes, and nine can’t bring themself to walk away, putting the upperclassmen in their place with a newfound sense of fearlessness they didn’t have at their old school—or maybe they’re motivated by the warm weight of their classmate’s hand in theirs, the shy smile on his lips when he thanks nine for coming to his rescue.
he can’t seem to meet nine’s eyes as he reaches into his uniform jacket pocket, taking out a pair of lollipops and handing one to nine—a token of gratitude, they presume. “i’m mill.”
“nine.”
they’re not fearless enough to introduce themself with their pronouns quite yet, a tiny nonbinary flag pin on their messenger bag the only indication of that part of their identity. it could easily be mistaken as evidence of simply being an ally—if people even know what the flag means.
mill doesn’t know what the flag means, initially.
he knows he likes guys, has known that for a while now, and knows that it’s something other people shouldn’t know about him. the bullies at school already call him homophobic slurs; it would be so much worse if they knew he was actually gay.
he's not sure how he attracted jihun and hyunwoo’s attention in the first place. he doesn’t dress flamboyantly and keeps to himself during school hours, spending most of his free time drawing in his sketchbook. somehow, he’s become the main target of their bullying anyway. mill doesn’t know if they suspect he likes guys or if gay is just the worst thing they can think of to call him. he's honestly afraid of the answer.
when nine transfers into his class, mill is immediately smitten. the new student is beautiful, a living work of art that mill instantly itches to draw. so he does, putting pencil to paper as he steals glances through the classroom window at nine playing basketball outside.
he's so lost in his art that he doesn’t notice jihun and hyunwoo entering the classroom, only realizing their presence when jihun yanks his sketchbook right out of his hands.
mill’s stomach plummets, knowing there’s no way to disguise who he’s drawing. his art isn’t perfect, but he worked hard to capture nine’s slender frame and shaggy haircut. one look outside will be enough for the upperclassmen to connect the dots.
hyunwoo looks at mill’s sketch, then out the window at the students playing basketball. “you’re drawing that new guy, aren’t you?”
mill stays silent, and it gives him away.
“that’s fucking gay.”
mill panics, snatching his sketchbook back and running out of the classroom, praying he can run fast enough to make it to safety before they catch him.
halfway down the stairs, he crashes into another person, sending his sketchbook clattering to the ground again. the other person apologizes, bending down to help pick up the sketchbook. mill recognizes the slender fingers reaching for the pages, and he feels like all the air has been punched out of his lungs.
it's nine.
mill reaches for the sketchbook too, hoping that if he’s quick enough, he can keep nine from seeing the drawing. he's too late; nine’s already seen it.
mill doesn’t wait to see nine’s reaction, grabbing his sketchbook and running for the second time that day.
he expects nine to hate him for the drawing. he knows how it looks. it’s weird that he watched nine from the window, and weird that he wanted to draw nine at all.
he doesn’t expect nine to come find him, to compliment the drawing and pose for another.
he doesn’t expect a lot of things about nine.
it isn’t until later, after mill and nine start spending more time together—become something that mill might dare to call friends if he wasn’t terrified of how badly he wants to be more—that mill asks about the pin on nine’s bag.
there’s a sense of hesitation in nine’s voice that mill hasn’t heard before. “it’s a pride pin. the, uh… nonbinary flag.”
it’s the first time mill hears the word nonbinary and he doesn’t know what it means. he knows what pride flags are, knows that the rainbow flag is used as a symbol to outwardly display what’s hidden inside his heart, but that’s all he knows.
“i’m not a boy or a girl,” nine elaborates. “um… i use they/them pronouns.”
mill’s eyes widen, horrified to know he’s been thinking of nine incorrectly the entire time he’s known them. they always wear the male uniform to school, so mill assumed...
he remembers the day nine posed for a portrait, their conversation coming back to him with sudden clarity.
“you don’t think this is weird, do you?” mill asked, staring at the blank canvas in front of him to avoid making eye contact with nine. “that i want to draw you.”
from the corner of mill’s eye, he saw nine tilt their head. “why would it be weird?”
mill laughed nervously. “you know. because we're both guys.”
nine didn’t correct him, and mill feels horrible now.
“i didn’t know,” he says quietly, apologetically.
nine shrugs it off. “most people don’t. i knew you didn’t mean any harm, and… it’s stupid, but i was scared you wouldn’t want to hang out with me anymore if you knew.”
there’s sadness in their eyes, and it sounds like they speak from experience. mill hates that nine likely has reason to have that fear.
“bullshit,” mill blurts. “it’s not like you’re suddenly a different person because you’re nonbinary. you're still nine.” he pauses, realizing something. “your parents didn’t name you that, did they?”
nine looks at him warily, like they’re afraid saying the wrong thing could scare him away. “does nine sound like a name korean parents would give their child?”
mill laughs, because when nine puts it like that, it sounds obvious. “mine didn’t name me mill,” he admits.
when he looks back at nine, their expression softens, and their shoulders seem a little more relaxed, less guarded. mill takes that as a sign it’s safe to continue. “you’re still the coolest person in this school, and i very much still want to hang out with you.”
nine flushes, their lips curving up in that adorable smile that makes mill’s stomach do somersaults. they’re so cute.
“i’m glad you think so. because i really want to hang out with you too.”
they reach for mill’s hand, and mill lets them squeeze it. immediately, he becomes aware of how small his hand feels in nine’s. it brings a warmth to mill’s cheeks that he desperately hopes nine doesn’t notice.
he likes them so much—too much—and it’s far too late for him to do anything about it. he can only hope that nine feels this way too.
nine doesn’t want to read too much into anything. there's a good chance that mill only wants to be friends, that he’s being nice to nine and spending time with them for purely platonic reasons. it’s normal for artists to draw their friends, right?
maybe it’s a little less normal for artists to fill their sketchbooks with countless drawings of a single friend, but that still doesn’t mean that mill has a crush on them. he might, but he probably doesn’t.
nine knows it’s a bad idea, but no matter how much they tell themself that, they can’t stop themself from falling for him.
mill looks at nine like they’re a masterpiece even when he’s not drawing them. it makes nine feel cherished, and they want to do the same for mill in return, to protect him to the best of their ability.
for now, that means hiding their feelings. nine hears what jihun and hyunwoo call mill and the nasty things they say about his drawings of nine. they know the reason they target him is rooted in homophobia. they don’t want to make things worse for mill if they’re wrong about the way he feels.
nine doesn’t remember telling mill their birthday, but he surprises them that day with a cake. it feels like the sign they’ve been waiting for from the universe, concrete evidence that mill cares about them.
they insist mill make a wish on the candle too, despite his protests that it isn’t supposed to work like that. nine is selfish; they want to know what mill will wish for, and they desperately hope it’s the same wish as theirs.
when they lock eyes over the blown-out candle, mill glances downwards for just a split second. it’s enough for nine to know: he’s looking at their lips. they’re close enough that he can feel the warmth of mill’s breath, and they want so badly to close the distance and kiss him.
they’re not sure why they hesitate, but by the time they gather the courage, mill pulls away and the moment is broken.
mill isn’t going to think about what happened—or didn’t happen—after they made their wishes. if he doesn’t think about it, it isn’t real, and it doesn’t have the power to hurt him or drive him out of his mind with what-could-have-beens.
nine looked at him like they wanted something. mill wants to believe they wanted him, but he has no evidence for that except his own wishful thinking. it’s literally what he wished for when he helped nine blow out the candle: i wish i could kiss you.
for a brief moment after, he thought they would kiss, but then his own anxieties got the better of him and he pulled away.
mill isn’t thinking about this when he’s supposed to be paying attention in class, so it doesn’t interrupt his thoughts when a piece of paper folded into the shape of a crane lands on his desk.
he looks around in confusion, trying to find the source of the paper crane, and finds nine smiling at him expectantly. they spend all their break time together; what could be urgent enough that nine couldn't wait to tell him after class?
mill unfolds the note and finds only a few words, an invitation to meet nine at a restaurant that afternoon.
his heart pounds. is this a date? he doesn’t want to assume, but after what happened with the candle… maybe this is the first step of the universe granting his wish.
he looks back at nine, flashing them a smile and nodding to indicate he’ll be there.
nine grins back and mouths “it’s a date.”
maybe that was the mistake.
maybe jihun or hyunwoo saw nine mouth the words and understood their romantic intentions. maybe they saw nine pass the note to mill and assumed, based on past evidence, that it was “some gay shit.” or maybe what nine did today didn’t matter at all and this would have happened regardless, because people are cruel and hateful, and all that matters to them is that nine is different and that deserves to be punished.
they don’t know how long they lie there, bruised and beaten on the ground. there's blood on the side of their mouth, cold and wet, and their face stings from other injuries. they feel powerless, the strength in their body drained.
it must be well past the time they told mill they’d meet him. there’s no way he’s still waiting; he probably wrote nine off as a no-show and headed home long ago.
nine’s stomach turns, and it isn’t from the kicks their assailants landed there. does mill think they stood him up? what if he thinks this is a cruel joke being played on him, that nine doesn’t actually like him and was playing a long con to embarrass him, or worse?
they imagine mill waiting at the phone booth they agreed to meet at as the hours tick by, growing increasingly worried the longer it takes for nine to show up. no matter how much pain nine is in, they can’t keep mill waiting and wondering what happened to them.
slowly, they manage to get themself to their feet. the pain is worse when they’re standing, but they can’t let it stop them. it hurts too much to walk properly, so they limp their way in the direction of the phone booth. by the time they get there, it’s well past sunset.
they aren’t expecting mill to be there.
he’s shivering, rubbing his hands together for warmth, and nine’s heart aches when they realize he really has been waiting in the cold for them all this time.
mill’s eyes light up when he sees nine, happy for just a split second, before he takes in nine’s appearance and his expression darkens.
he rushes out of the phone booth to nine’s side, immediately putting their arm around him so they can lean on him for support.
nine wants to cry.
mill doesn’t ask what happened. he knows, probably. it isn’t that difficult to put the pieces together.
nine isn’t sure how they make it inside, but the next thing they know they’re in an abandoned classroom, lying down on top of a makeshift pallet of blankets mill hastily assembled for them.
mill procures a tube of ointment from his bag, dabbing a little onto his finger so he can apply it to nine’s cuts and bruises. nine doesn’t want to think about why he has that on hand, the likelihood he’s had to dress his own wounds after similar encounters with jihun and hyunwoo.
nine closes their eyes as mill tends to their injuries. he touches them tenderly, careful not to press too hard and cause any more pain. the cut on their mouth is the worst, and nine winces when mill touches there, the wound stinging despite his gentle touch.
he murmurs an apology, and it feels like he’s apologizing for all of it, as if he’s the one to blame for nine being injured.
“it’s okay,” nine tells him. they mean it’s not your fault.
once mill finishes applying the ointment, he lies down beside nine, looking into their eyes in a way that they can only describe as wounded. it’s like he’s the one with cuts and bruises all over his body, not nine.
“why are you looking at me like that?” nine’s voice comes out hoarse. it makes them cough, and when they settle down again, they hear mill let out a shaky breath.
“because they hurt you.”
nine wishes they could crack a joke to ease the tension, teasingly ask mill to kiss it better, but they can’t joke about something they really want. mill’s close enough that nine can feel his breath on their cheek, can see the faintest glimmer of tears in his eyes, and they want to kiss that sadness away.
before they can second-guess themself or talk themself out of it, nine leans in. their heart is racing so fast they can feel it beating in their chest, and then their lips meet mill’s.
the kiss is feather-light, because nine’s trying to avoid further aggravating their injury or freaking mill out if they’ve somehow read the situation wrong. mill doesn’t freak out or move away. he kisses back, lips pressing ever-so-gently against nine’s.
their heart feels like it’s going to explode. the wish they made on that candle has come true—they’re kissing mill.
the cut on their lip starts stinging again, but it isn’t painful enough for them to pull away. if this is the price they pay to kiss mill, it’s worth it.
when they separate, nine’s scared to open their eyes. this feels like a dream, and they don’t want to wake up and be forced to face reality.
they feel mill speak their name more than they hear it, his lips still close enough that they brush against nine’s when he speaks. nine makes a tiny noise of wanting that they’re immediately embarrassed about, the tips of their ears turning red. mill chuckles, and only then does nine dare to open their eyes.
mill’s so close, nine almost goes cross-eyed trying to look at him. he’s smiling for the first time since nine stumbled towards him outside the phone booth, and nine wants to bottle that smile and keep it forever.
“i like you,” mill says, and nine has no doubts he means it as more than a friend.
“i like you too,” nine admits. “a lot. and i don’t really care what anyone else thinks about that.” they reach for mill’s hand, cradling his smaller fingers in theirs.
mill slides his fingers between nine’s, interlocking them. it’s cliché, but nine feels like they fit together perfectly.
they want to kiss him again, so they do. mill meets them halfway, and nine lets themself melt into it, knowing this time that it isn’t a dream. mill likes them, and they like mill, and right now, that’s all that matters.
they can take their time figuring out the rest.