Chapter Text
A tall boy with black hair stands up straight as he walks through the hallway of his school. He never stops for any kind of distractions, always focused on getting to the next part of his schedule. He doesn’t look very different from all the other students who also stand up straight as they methodically complete their own schedules. And that’s because he isn’t.
Park Seonghwa is the epitome of a model. His entire life, he has been a model son, a model student, a model citizen. It’s never felt hard to him. All he has to do is what adults tell him to do. He has a perfectly calculated schedule to follow every day, and as long as he does, life moves smoothly. There’s no reason to do anything without a plan. Once a person begins to act unpredictably, then life will also become unpredictable. Unpredictability simply equates to unnecessary danger.
At least, that’s what Seonghwa has always been taught. It makes sense enough. Everyone follows their schedules and rules, and the city is always safe. There’s no need to introduce unknown variables.
Life is boring. He can’t deny that. But one should always choose boredom over deadly risk. Right?
It’s the middle of the day and Seonghwa walks uniformly to the school cafeteria. He has exactly twenty-five minutes to collect his food, sit down, and eat his lunch before the next class begins. Once he grabs the same tray of food that is served every day, he makes his way to the same seat he has occupied since the beginning of high school. And of course, there is the same person already at the table waiting for him.
Kim Hongjoong has been in Seonghwa’s life since he was a child. Nearly every memory he has, Hongjoong is there. However, that is the extent of Hongjoong’s relationship with consistency. Hongjoong has always been a little…different from everyone else. While Seonghwa finds it easy to stick to his perfectly calculated life, Hongjoong does not. He has always had a kind of energy inside him, one that keeps his eyes bright and his smile mischievous, like he can barely keep it in. Mischief is one of the key variables that leads to unpredictable behavior, so unlike Seonghwa, Hongjoong has naturally received constant correction from others growing up. It only seems to just keep him in line. No matter how hard they try, no one has been able to eliminate that spark from Hongjoong’s eyes that probably everyone else in Seonghwa’s life has lacked.
Adults have often warned Seonghwa not to be so close with Hongjoong. They can’t understand how the two even became friends: Seonghwa, the perfect child who lives up to every societal standard, and Hongjoong, the strange child constantly testing the world they live in. It’s been years, and Seonghwa hardly understands it himself. But there’s always been something about Hongjoong that Seonghwa likes to be around. He knows that Hongjoong’s spark can easily become dangerous, but he’s always been irrationally envious of it.
As Seonghwa takes his seat, Hongjoong’s eyes and smile are as bright as ever. He has the same food as Seonghwa, but he’s rearranged it, mixing some parts together and putting some parts to the side. Seonghwa sighs.
“You should eat your vegetables,” he says, nodding to the brownish-looking peas and carrots that Hongjoong has pushed off his plate and onto a napkin. “They’re there for a reason. You need those nutrients to function efficiently.”
Hongjoong scrunches his nose up childishly. “Yeah, but they’re gross.”
Seonghwa rolls his eyes, picking up his fork to start eating his own food. “You’re eighteen now. You can’t just avoid certain foods because you don’t like them.”
Hongjoong smirks. “Why not? I think it gives me personality.”
Seonghwa almost laughs. Personality; one of the most discouraged things in this school. It’s so hard to predict behavior if everyone has their own.
Hongjoong glances around the cafeteria, then pulls out a small plastic bag from the breast pocket of his blazer. Inside is what looks like a fine grain, which he starts to sprinkle on the meat in his dish. Seonghwa’s eyes widen and Hongjoong laughs quietly.
“It’s seasoning,” he says in a low voice, still glancing around. “Want some?”
Seonghwa’s heart rate picks up nervously, and he also looks around.
“What? No! Put that away before someone sees it.”
Hongjoong sticks out his tongue, and only puts away the bag once he determines his food adequately seasoned. Seonghwa tightens his fists in annoyance. Although he has always secretly admired Hongjoong’s uniqueness, it’s times like these when he wishes his friend would just be a little bit more like everyone else. Because it’s small things like this - like picking out the vegetables in your food or talking about personality or bringing weird spices from who-knows-where - that make people whisper. Seonghwa has heard them whisper about Hongjoong his entire life. They don’t see his differences as fun or endearing like Seonghwa does. They say there’s something off about him and speculate about what he does when he’s alone. That he probably spends his time in dark alleys at night, trading for illegal items that will give him a dangerous thrill. That he locks himself up in his room to get high off music and art.
Seonghwa has always ignored those people. Hongjoong may like to test the rules sometimes, but even he knows better than to participate in such risky activities.
Seonghwa just wishes he would stop giving people material to build their rumors on.
“You’re boring, Hwa, you know that?” Hongjoong pouts, finally starting to eat his food even though there are only a few minutes left of lunch.
“Don’t call me that,” Seonghwa chides automatically, instinctively looking for teachers. Thankfully, there are none around. Nicknames are prohibited on school grounds. They’re distracting and inefficient. And they contribute to personality .
Hongjoong groans light-heartedly. “Why are you being so strict today? Come on, I get enough of that from literally everyone else.”
Seonghwa sighs and puts down his fork. Why is he so sensitive today?
“We’re almost graduated, Hongjoong.” The truth slips out. It’s a fact that has been at the front of his mind for months now. This is their final year of school, and when it’s over, they’ll be expected to become functioning members of society. Seonghwa knows he needs the school’s favor to be successful out in the real world.
People aren’t supposed to worry about the fate of others around them. If every citizen does their best to uphold their own schedules and rules, things should take care of themselves. After all, it’s extremely inefficient to hold the burdens of two people. Seonghwa can easily earn the school’s favor and establish a good position for himself in society. If Hongjoong is ruining his own future, purposely or not, that’s none of Seonghwa’s business…
…and yet, he can’t help but care. What will happen to Hongjoong if the real world treats him the same as this school?
Hongjoong is still waiting for Seonghwa to continue, but Seonghwa can’t even begin to put all his thoughts into words.
“Well. We’re not kids anymore,” is all he says, his eyes dropping back down to his food as he quickly finishes his lunch.
He expects Hongjoong to argue with him in that teasing voice he always uses. He’s surprised when Hongjoong sounds serious.
“You’re right. We’re not.”
Seonghwa looks up, but Hongjoong’s expression has already returned to its usual playful self. Before he can say anything, though, the bell rings, and Seonghwa can only wonder if he imagined the words coming from Hongjoong’s mouth.
“Come on, let’s go!” Hongjoong says, standing up and shamelessly throwing away the napkin full of vegetables. “I don’t want to be late for my favorite class.”
Their next class is grammar class. Seonghwa doesn’t share as many classes with Hongjoong as he used to in earlier years; he suspects that was done purposely by the school administration. But grammar class is one of the few exceptions. They don’t sit next to each other, although they’re close. Hongjoong’s assigned seat is at the very front of the classroom, as it is with all of his classes. Seonghwa is in the seat directly behind him.
Hongjoong was not being sarcastic when he referred to this class as his favorite. It’s obvious to Seonghwa how much he always looks forward to it. Hongjoong claims he simply enjoys the subject of grammar, but Seonghwa knows it has nothing to do with the subject.
It has to do with the teacher.
This is Ms. Lee’s first year as a teacher at their school. At first, she didn’t seem very different from all the other teachers. But as the months went on, Seonghwa began to notice a certain connection between Hongjoong and Ms. Lee. Little things that might not seem so remarkable if it was with any other student. Ms. Lee never scolds Hongjoong, for one. Even when he spaces out during a lesson or fidgets at his desk, she only ever redirects him back to the current task with a gentle smile. When he occasionally raises his hand to ask a question others would consider a waste of time, she gives him a well-thought out answer. Ms. Lee never looks at Hongjoong with impatience or disgust. She never hits him when he challenges the school’s standards. And she never sends him away to receive punishment.
No, Ms. Lee is not like the other teachers at all.
Although it really has nothing to do with him, he knows, Seonghwa has found that grammar has become his favorite class too. He’s never enjoyed watching as the world desperately tries to put Hongjoong’s spark out at every second. It’s a bit of a hypocritical feeling. He knows the reason. It’s dangerous, he knows. That spark can so easily turn into a fire, and then what will happen? It’s better that they put it out. It’s safer, for everyone. Yet Seonghwa can’t help but wonder, couldn’t they just learn to live with it? This spark that has become so interwoven with Hongjoong’s entire person. Must they completely destroy it? After eighteen years, Hongjoong has still kept it alive and well. And nothing too terrible has happened. A little spark is manageable, Seonghwa thinks. And it seems Ms. Lee thinks so as well.
Still, Seonghwa is wary of her. He is thankful for her kindness towards Hongjoong, but he worries that it will go too far. That one day Hongjoong’s spark won’t be manageable, and it will be because Ms. Lee fanned it. It may not be her intention, but Seonghwa knows. The more she encourages him, the more Hongjoong’s future is set towards ruin.
Even now, as Ms. Lee collects the homework from each person’s desk, Seonghwa watches as she comes to Hongjoong’s and the two exchange a genuine smile. She picks up his paper, and Seonghwa catches a glimpse of the front page.
It’s outlined with beautiful sketches.
Seonghwa immediately looks away, his heart skipping a beat. Even when Ms. Lee’s voice fills the classroom, signaling the start of the lesson, he hesitates to look forward again. He must have seen wrong…Ms. Lee would…and Hongjoong wouldn’t…
Getting high off music and art.
No. Seonghwa must have seen wrong.