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The bell had barely rung for the next period when the chaos bloomed in Jiho’s school life.
One minute he was chatting with his other mates in the class like an outgoing, peace-loving student. The next thing, a certain clumpsy fool, Seong-ah had tripped over, arms flailing in the air and the drink launched itself from her grip like a missile—landing squarely on Jiho’s lap.
“OH MY GOD,” Seong-ah screeched loudly. She put both her hands on her mouth.
Jiho blinked down at his school pants, which were now soaked in pink, sweet stickiness. He sat there frozen in horror while half the class gasped, then some of them erupted into uncontrollable laughter.
“I—I'm so sorry!” She apologizes, clasped both of her hands tightly. Seong-ah then flailed as she tried to dab at his pants with a tissue. Jiho jerked away nervously, his cheeks redder than the drink. “Stop—! I—it’s fine—I’ll just go change!”
But the disaster didn’t just end there.
Of course, Jiho didn’t have an extra pair of black pants, since he didn't have any archery lessons today. Of course it was a sports day for Seong-ah, who had already brought her track pants and had a spare skirt. And so of course, she insisted that they swap bottoms for the day-leaving Jiho in her pleated, navy-blue skirt.
“I can’t wear this,” Jiho hissed sharply, his eyebrows knitted together in remorse.
“Sorry Jiho-ah, you have to wear them for a while,” Seong-ah apologised and rubbed the back of her head nervously, who was already in her sweats pants.
Jiho stood in the hallway.
Now, here he was—walking stiffly down the hallway, head low, in a damn tiny skirt. The waistband was snug around his hips, the pleats fanned delicately over his thighs. Every breeze sent the hem fluttering. His white hood under the uniform blazer, was tugged down under his head awkwardly in an attempt to cover more of his embarrassment, but it only made him look more obvious.
The girls loved it.
“You actually look really cute,” one of them whispered with a giggle as he passed.
“Jiho-ya, you’ve got some fabulous legs!” someone else teased behind the hallway.
Which is when Bongsu strolled by.
He stopped abruptly at the flustered figure. Staring way too long from head to toe. And blinked multiple times as if checking he was in heaven or not. Then let out the slowest, most diabolical whistle.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled with a mischievous smirk, “if it isn’t the pretty boy, Jiho-ha.”
Jiho turned away immediately, ears flaming. “Shut Up, you punk”
Bongsu took one step closer until there was few inches them. Then another step.
“I’m being serious right now, Bongsu” he whispered, and Jiho didn’t even need to look to know the stupid grin on Bongsu’s face was the size of Jupiter. Still looking down, “You look kinda hot.”
"You’re disgusting.”
“And you’re blushing.”
“I’m not!”
Bongsu leaned closer, voice a teasing whisper. “Bet you’ve got some nice breeze down there, huh?”
Jiho made a strangled sound of outrage and turned swipely to smack him, but Bongsu caught his upcoming fists.
“I’ve got spare trousers in the archer’s locker cabinet,” Bongsu said, flatly. “Come with me. Unless you wanna give the whole school a show.”
Jiho hesitated for a momment.
Bongsu smirked cheekily. “Thought so.”
---
The archery club locker room was dimly lit, quiet, and just remote enough to give Jiho a creeping sense of doom.
Bongsu shut the door with a simple click. Jiho stiffened still in his steps who was suspicious of Bongsu's intentions
Part of him was wondering. They weren't suppose to bring any uniforms since there wasn't any archery lessons earlier.
He raised one hand, “You said trousers. Hand them over.”
“In due time,” Bongsu said lazily.
He moved closer, cornering Jiho between the wall and a row of lockers. His hand came up, brushing Jiho’s cheek, then sliding down the curve of his jaw. Jiho’s breath hitched at the touch.
“Why do you look so good in a skirt?” Bongsu asked, voice husky with interest. His half-lidded eyes trailed down slowly, “It’s unfair, you know”
“Oi, Y-you’re making it weird.”
“I am weird.”
The next thing Jiho knew, one hand had braced above Jiho’s head. His other hand that was holding his jaw, fingers slowly trailed down from Jiho’s side, over his slim waist, then grabbed one of his thighs, sliding teasingly over the side of his inner thighs.
Jiho gasped, face burning like a hot tomatoe.
“Yah—stop that!” he hissed, grabbing Bongsu’s wrist.
Bongsu gave a low laugh. He leaned in, lips few inches from Jiho’s ear. “Sensitive, are we?”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m inspired.”
“Stop touching me like—like that!”
His fingers grazed upward again, featherlight over the soft skin, teasing but never quite enough. Jiho shivered despite himself. The soft brush of pleats against his thighs, the cool air in the room, and the weight of Bongsu’s half-lidded gaze—it was too much for him to handle.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that” Jiho muttered, response that barely escaped.
“Mm-hm,” Bongsu agreed, ducking his head to place a heated kiss just under Jiho’s ear. “And you’re irresistible.”
Instead, he trailed down and pressed soft, lingering kisses along Jiho’s neck. Jiho’s knees buckled violently.
He braced himself on Bongsu’s shoulder, “Wh-what are you—?"
“Shh,” Bongsu murmured, grazing his teeth at the soft skin before nipping a small bite just beneath Jiho’s jaw. “Don’t worry. I’m leaving the marks where no one will see.”
Jiho gasped, hands fisting tight against Bongsu’s shoulders. “You’re such a pervert.”
He grinned cheekily, “Only for you.”
As Jiho writhed in frustration and protested, Bongsu’s gaze caught the large mirror at the side of the locker room. For a moment, the reflection shimmered—no longer his grin staring back, but the solemn, a disappointed face of Gyeonu, the boy whose body he had taken over. Experienced the horror he had witnessed.
Gyeonu looked completely heartbroken. With a disapproving look on his face. Part of him was quietly suffering at that scene before him.
“You really like him, don't you,” Bongsu murmured to his reflection, cocking his head.
The ghost in the glass said nothing.
Bongsu smirked, “Too bad I got here first.”
Then he turned back to Jiho, who was still fuming red and sputtering with protests. Bongsu’s gaze softened—not that he’d ever admit it—and he finally backed away.
“Here.”
He handed over a pair of folded black trousers right on his hand.
Jiho blinked at them. “You... actually brought them?”
“I’m not a monster,” Bongsu said with a shrug. Lingering eyes looking down at the pleated skirt, “Just a guy who appreciates a good view.”
Jiho snatched them right out of Bongsu's hand and stormed towards the bathroom stall, muttering, “I’m never trusting you again, you bastard.”
Bongsu leaned against the locker, grinning mischievously, clearing satisfied. The evil spirit then whistled a jaunty tune, utterly pleased with himself.
Worth it.