Chapter Text
“Your multiple offenses are certainly grounds for expulsion, Mr. Chae.” The prefect of discipline clasps his hands together. “But the admin is willing to offer you a little bit of leniency.”
Bonggu leans back in his seat. “Oh? I can't imagine other universities holding on to ‘problematic’ students.”
The tall back of the chesterfield chair looms over the prefect, as if retracted wings to a gargoyle. The prefect is unmoving, unfazed.
Seeing this, the student immediately straightens his posture, keeping his hands on his lap.
“We are aware of the outstanding record you have kept for the past two years. These infractions you committed are all within the same semester, which we assume are due to personal conflicts. It is against the university's core values to be cruel on students who are visibly in need of help.”
"In need of help."
Bonggu stares at the metal nameplate on the mahogany table. His eyes reflect the glint that shine across the name, “Park Jinkyung”. To be referred to as someone who is in need, someone so pitiful and pathetic, is an insult to Bonggu's name. He had been living adamantly against everything that came across his way. To him, if anything, he is far from needing any help. He has survived every misery imaginable on his own. For most of his life he has faced adversities with no one to hold him down so no— he doesn't need help.
He is far from weak.
“You can keep your status as a bonafide student in the university, if you vow to obey the conditions we will give you.”
Still, Bonggu is tied down by restraints. He needs this education. He must graduate. As much as he hates to comply, he has no choice but to do so. Defeated, he glances up across the desk.
Through gritted teeth, he asks, “What do I have to do?”
The prefect's steely gaze remains locked, but he blinks, and it slowly turns to something less piercing, and something more human. He pulls his hands back and his shoulders visibly relax. “First, you will be put under strict probation.”
That's a given. Bonggu knows what he did. Yet, he feels this certain condition does not balance the offenses he committed. He keeps mum, awaiting the next consequence.
“Second, you will be required to join as a committee member for the student council. You are to attend and participate in all of the organization's activities.”
There's the appropriate punishment.
The student nods, not of agreement, but of resignation. He takes a deep breath, anticipating the arrival of the heaviest punishment. He wonders what it can be. Community service? Assistantship? What he knows for sure that it will be worse than the previous condition, which is just a pompously worded equivalent of slavery.
“Third,” The prefect leans on his high chair, its back recoiling ever so slightly from the weight of his strong build. “You will be reassigned to a different dormitory room. You will be sharing a unit with the student council president, Nam Yejun.”
Silence hangs dead in the air, permeating into every fiber of Bonggu’s consciousness. He sits wordless, processing the final punishment for a little while.
Soon, a corner of his lip tugs to a lopsided smile.
— - —
There's a unique joy that Yejun finds in cooking. The entire process of preparing a home cooked meal with his own hands sans the recipe book brings him satisfaction. He is no chef, but he sure does know his way around the kitchen. His mother made sure he does, and he is thankful for it. This way he can make sure everything he eats suits his palate, and of course, affordable for his college student wallet.
He pours the icy cold broth into the bowl of naengmyeon noodles. Then, he carefully places cucumber and pear slices he set aside earlier. He topped the bowl off with two halves of a hard-boiled egg. Satisfied with his work, he puts the naengmyeon in the middle of the table.
The sound of knocking cuts him off from admiring his dish. Right on time, he thinks. He immediately walks over to his door and opens it wide.
“Nam Yejun?”
A young man dressed in black denim jacket and ripped jeans stood by his doorway. A silver necklace hangs around his neck, perhaps a set with the three piercings studding his right ear. He carries three travel bags and a guitar case slung over his shoulder. His entire appearance would've completely intimidated Yejun, if it wasn't for his soft, pink hair and the bright smile plastered across his face. His doe eyes looked straight at the president, as if sizing him up beneath utmost politeness.
The guy doesn't have to introduce himself. Yejun already knows who he is. He is known by many names, but he is most infamous for being called the “Loki”. Yejun has already heard many things (good and bad) about him long before they met. Still, it feels surreal for him to finally see him eye-to-eye.
It is Chae Bonggu in the flesh.
Yejun flashes a smile, stepping aside to make way. “Oh, you’re here. Welcome.”
Bonggu turns to his luggages and pauses. Yejun is quick to pick up on it and hurries to carry two of the carry-ons inside. He goes straight to the shared bedroom and places the bag down beside the bunk bed.
“Thanks, which one's mine?” Bonggu asks, pointing to the beds.
“The top one. I already had the mattress cleaned yesterday so… just put your covers on and you're good to go.” Yejun automatically raises his thumb for an “okay” sign.
The newcomer furrows his eyebrows, seemingly disappointed. “Alright. But if I come home wasted and tired, don't complain if I crash on your bed.”
“Don't worry, that won't happen because you're not allowed to drink!” Yejun replies, his smile unwavering.
Bonggu just chuckles and shakes his head. He reaches to pat Yejun's shoulder with a feigned expression of concern. “Good luck enforcing that, Mr. President.”
— - —
“This is an abuse of power,” Bonggu protests, examining the long stretch of paper Yejun handed him.
“You're being dramatic,” Yejun replies offhand, his eyes darting back to the stack of paperwork on his desk.
Right after the day Bonggu had settled in their dorm, he spared no time and immediately appointed him as the head of the logistics team for the upcoming foundation day. He is to work and report directly to him, which is a great opportunity to firmly assert authority. He assigned Bonggu his first task: to purchase replacement prop items listed on the legal pad he just handed him. If he's being honest, most of the items he wrote aren't actually necessary. The university has enough supplies to decorate the event. He just needed to make a task for Bonggu to do.
Surprisingly, Bonggu doesn't complain any further. Instead, he leaves the office without a word, seemingly charged to complete his assigned task right away. Yejun admits to having expected to have a hard time with him, given the former’s reputation of being a raging nonconformist. So far, he has been acting quite the opposite. Yejun is just grateful because this meant one less thing for him to stress about.
For now, he has a meeting to preside over.
The preparations for the foundation day have been nothing but tedious work. Yejun has never organized at such big-scale before, and that’s why he is treading lightly with his decisions. He’s asked for advice from seniors and former officers but he can’t help worrying about getting things wrong. Thankfully, his co-officers are totally cooperative and hands-on. The burden off his back is somehow eased knowing he shares it with them. Now as he’s standing by the end of the conference table, looking at his reliable team as they take turns in discussing their ideas and suggestions. Although they don’t always agree on everything, they find a way to compromise while still keeping their goals in mind. A sense of pride swells in his chest, making him smile to himself.
Han Noah, their vice-president, raises his hand.
Yejun gestures to him, “What is it?”
“I’m quite concerned about our new logistics team.”
Yejun tilts his head. He already anticipated this the moment he decided to appoint Bonggu. “How so?’
“I don’t think Chae Bonggu is competent enough to be their head. We all know he’s inexperienced with leadership. I’m also pretty sure it will be a struggle for him to hold position, especially with the image he has right now.” Noah glances around the table, silently asking reaffirmation from their fellow officers. They nod amongst themselves, a sign that they all share the same sentiment.
Yejun stifles a sigh. He understands where Noah is coming from. It’s also an error on his part. He is not one to hastily make decisions without consulting his officers. And yet, he finds himself breaking his own rules.
“I know his commitment to the SC is mainly mandatory for him, but if circumstances were different, there is no doubt he will fit in well with us. I've seen his record, and despite his recent issues, he has promising skills and traits that the SC can learn and benefit from.”
He hovers his gaze to each of his officers. The room falls silent, and none of the officers budge. Yejun can’t blame them for doubting, but he still hopes they hear him out this time like they always do.
At the same time, he also hopes he is right for putting his trust in Bonggu.
“I can't convince you all to follow blindly. But all we can do now is have faith in him. I know he can prove himself worthy.”
—
Yejun sinks into his mesh office chair. He adjourned the meeting ten minutes ago, and now he wants to spend a while taking a breather inside the conference room. The growing weight of his eyelids is becoming harder to ignore with each passing second. The lack of sleep is starting to take a toll on his efficiency, but he cannot afford to rest even for a day. And yet, he can’t fight the urge to close his eyes. A couple minutes won’t do any harm right?
Progress reports, seminars, bills to sign, the foundation day– Yejun knew what he would sign up for when he decided to run for presidency earlier this year. Despite that, he still didn’t expect to receive a humongous amount of workload passed down from the previous administrations. People always tell him how good he is at balancing his responsibilities and academics. He would only thank them for the compliments. Nobody knows that underneath his stronghold facade, he is just a struggling college student like everybody else.
His consciousness begins to ebb as he spirals to the bottomless pit of his thoughts.
Tens, no– hundreds of footsteps thundering right outside the conference room drags Yejun back to reality. The floor shakes beneath his feet, making him flash his eyes open. His gaze darts towards the door. If it wasn’t for the sound of commotion behind it, he would’ve mistaken it for an earthquake.
He abandons his chair and starts towards the exit, swinging it open. He is greeted by the sight of about a dozen men, all glancing around confused as if looking for a room. They each carried bags of various items that seemed too familiar to Yejun.
“I said, room 135.” A voice, resounding and resolute, speaks from a distance.
Yejun watches as the throng of men scoots to part in the middle like the Red Sea. Emerging from the path they made is Bonggu, embodying a modern-day Moses as he held a PVC pipe like a staff.
“It’s right in front of you, don’t you have eyes?” There’s a low growl at the end of his sentence. Bonggu’s eyes pierce through his pink bangs, glaring at each of the men. They are all much taller than him, but they cower in their places like they are a foot shorter, mumbling incomprehensible apologies.
He turns his head and finally notices Yejun standing speechless by the doorway. The president witnesses how the glint in Bonggu’s eye fades and turns to a joyful sparkle. “There you are!”
Yejun points to the band of men that stood behind him silently like servants. “Who are these people?”
“Ah, they’re…” Bonggu trails off. “Friends. Your list is too long for me to finish alone so I had to use a little assistance.”
Of course. The president is well-aware how impossible it is to accomplish the shopping task within the day. He made it so that Bonggu wouldn’t have a choice but to employ help from his co-members, utilizing his position as the head of the logistics team. Still, he is not surprised that he found his own way of finishing his assignment, efficiently even. Showing up with a dozen assistants is not something Yejun would have ever imagined though.
Bonggu lifts his other hand that carries a takeout bag of a cold drink. “Here.”
Yejun pauses. The pink-haired guy surprised him twice in a row now. He waits a moment for the catch, but none comes. Still, he doesn't understand why he's being kind to him all of a sudden. Especially when he was upfront about disregarding his authority right after their first meeting. He may have vouched for him, but he's not too gullible to think he can do no wrong.
He glances at the cup suspended in the air. It’s an iced coffee from the local coffee shop down the street.
As he walks over to reach the cup, the smell of nicotine invades Yejun’s nostrils that makes his face immediately grimace. He shoots an annoyed look and asks, “Did you smoke?”
Bonggu flashes a toothy smile and points at the cup, completely skitting over the question. “I didn't know what you want so I just grabbed whatever.”
Yejun knows the smell of cigarettes but he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it. As long as it is not on campus grounds, it’s not his concern.
He takes the coffee cup. “This one’s just fine. Thanks.”
Bonggu puts a hand over his chest and breathes an over-dramatic sigh of relief. “Gee, I don't know what I’d do if you didn't like it. I charged it on the prop funds after all.”
Ah, of course . Yejun thinks.
— - —
The bell rings as Yejun pushes the door open to leave.
It's already nine pm. He has been studying in the coffee shop for the past three hours until its closing time. As much as he would’ve loved studying in the dorm room, Bonggu playing electric guitar on the bed doesn't exactly help with his needed concentration.
The final exams will come a week before the foundation day. There is still a sizable amount of time before they do, but with the preparations they are doing for the major event, he figures it's much better to study early while he still can. He'll be much busier the closer it gets, so he cannot slack off.
The chilly November air blows on Yejun's face as he walks through the streets. He pockets his hands in his puffy vest, which he now regrets wearing. With winter coming close, he knows he is going to pull his coats out of his closet.
He then remembers that he put his phone on silent.
He fishes it out of his pocket. A few notifications at the very top catch his eye: two missed calls from Noah, and two texts from Hamin.
Yejun opens the latter.
Hamin : hyung im sorry
Hamin : i forgot to return your phone charger TvT
Yejun : dw u can return it tomorrow!
Hamin : thank you :’)
He turns his screen off and sighs. He'll deal with the other stuff tomorrow. For now, he wants to rest and call it a day.
The walk to the dorm building was somehow enjoyable. With the amount of school work and org-work Yejun has been doing, he really hasn't taken the time to go on walks like he usually did. He used to wake up at six in the morning to tour the surroundings of the campus, before making it back on time for his 8 am class. The only physical activity he's been getting recently is the constant back and forth between campus buildings. He used to do calisthenics in his room but that doesn't seem too plausible now that he's sharing it with someone else.
Surprisingly, the unit bathes in silence when he walks in. He wonders if Bonggu had already fallen asleep.
A rush of cold runs up his spine. He notices the window across is opened wide, which lets the evening breeze invade the comfort of the room. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, knowing it is the work of the little… roommate. He shuts it close, thinking of how to remind him to never leave it open.
Yejun then heads over to the shared bedroom. His head is already feeling light from exhaustion.
To his surprise, he finds Bonggu on the bottom deck, lying on his tummy as he plays on his phone. His eyebrows meet in the middle, and his nose scrunches ever so slightly in what he can only assume as exasperation. Yejun is not one to play video games, and that is why he cannot empathize with whatever seems to tick the guy off. Especially not when he's tired.
He squints his eyes at him, but the pink haired guy doesn't seem to notice his presence.
Yejun clears his throat. “You can get out of my bed now.”
Bonggu’s eyes remain locked on his screen. “No, wait. I'm in the middle of a match.”
The president bites the inside of his cheek. He is usually patient, but it is starting to run thin. “Please. I want to sleep.”
There's a tinge of desperation that slipped out in his voice. He clears his throat once more, hoping that it wasn't audible enough from the other side of the bedroom.
And yet Bonggu perks up. He puts his phone down and looks at him with his doe eyes filled with utmost sincerity. “Aww, you look tired. Come, I'll cuddle with you.”
“No. Get out.” Yejun's voice is now firm. If he wants to set boundaries, he has to show no weakness.
The corner of Bonggu's lips pull to one side, pushing up his soft, round cheek. With one look, no one can tell that this is the man that single-handedly rattled the entire university for an entire semester. That is partly the reason why it took so long for him to be reprimanded. He was an excellent student with an innocent visage. Just imagine the shock of the entire campus when he was found out to be the culprit.
For a second, Yejun forgets the amount of offenses this man has committed.
“Okay.” Bonggu promptly stands to leave the bed to him. “Rest well. You need it.”
He climbs up the top bunk and turns his screen off. If he's still in the game, Yejun doesn't know. The way Bonggu tosses his phone on the mattress suggests it's either over or he quit in the middle of it. Regardless, Yejun is too tired to care.
As he lays down on his rightful bed, Bonggu peeks overhead. “Just tell me if you need anything. Midnight snacks, a good night kiss—”
Yejun turns his back to him, burying his face into his pillow. “Good night, Chae Bonggu.”
“Good night, Mr. President.”
His voice is low, but his tone is saccharine. Yejun can’t distinguish whether he's feigning his concern or not. With a track record and reputation like his, however, it isn't too overboard for him to doubt his actions a little. While he believes he is sincere in keeping his student duties straight, his willingness to redeem his reputation is not so apparent. People don't change overnight.
Yejun dreads the death of his peace for the next few months.
— - —
Gathering what's left of his strength, Noah pulls himself up the bar. He grunts as he finishes the last rep of his set.
“Twenty-three…” he mutters.
Finally, he hops off. He walks over to the table, where he picks his phone up. He clicks it open and finds no new messages.
A laugh bursts, and he ends it with a scoff.