Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kang Seongjun hated the way the hallways echoed after class. The slap of shoes, the chatter, the squeak of desks dragged too fast across the floor.

Everything grated on him.

He walked ahead of his group , Sangtae and Juhoon trailing behind, hands in pockets. His own uniform crisp and clean except for the untucked hem of his shirt.

His friends’ laughter echoed off the lockers, crude and careless. Sangtae was walking beside him, kicking a soda can down the corridor.

“Hey,” Sangtae said suddenly, a sly grin on his face, “why is it always Fuck-gyu?”

Seongjun stopped walking. “What?” He turned his head towards him.

“You know what I mean,” Sangtae gulped. “You’ve got a weird thing for him. Like—”

Juhoon stared at him, horrified. Does he have a death wish?

Yep, the sentence never finished. Seongjun shoved him against the lockers with a clang.

“Say that again,” he hissed. His jaw tightened; his voice dropped low. “Go ahead, I dare you.”

Sangtae laughed nervously, raising his hands. “Relax, man. I was joking—”

“You think you get to joke around with me? Fucking idiot.”

He let him go, shoving past the others. His pulse was hammering, and he didn’t know why. He’d heard worse things before. That one just stuck under his skin like glass.

————

When he walked into the courtyard alone, it was half-empty, golden light cutting across the pavement. He spotted Gyujin near the benches with Yeongdeong again, of course.

Yeongdeong was the only guy he didn’t recoil around. The two of them were talking quietly. Then Gyujin laughed.

It was the real kind. Not the nervous, shaky smile Seongjun was used to seeing when he was cornered and apologetic. His eyes crinkled, mouth open just enough for the sunlight to hit the edge of his teeth. Pearly white set of teeth coming into view.

And for one second , just one, Seongjun froze.

Gyujin had looked almost… different. Not pathetic or small. Just alive. And beautiful.

The realization made something twist in his gut. He hated it. He hated the warmth crawling up his throat, hated that he’d even noticed the way Gyujin’s hair moved when he laughed.

He swallowed and turned abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah.. I’ve finally lost it”

Kang Seongjun also didn’t like thinking.

Thinking meant slowing down, and slowing down meant feeling, and he hated that more than anything.

——

The corner store bell jingled when he pushed the door open too hard. Ms. Han looked up from behind the counter. A warm old lady who owned that little convenience store. They saw each other too often but only when Seongjun would come to get cigarettes with his usual group of friends.

“You again,” she said. “You look like you just got dumped.”

“Cigarettes,” he said flatly, pulling out his phone.

She passed him a judging look.

“You always look angry. One day your face will get stuck like that.”

He ignored her, and continued scrolling on his phone. He was not in the mood to listen an old lady yap about useless things.

The register clicked as Ms. Han slid the pack of cigarettes across the counter.
She didn’t speak right away this time, just watched him scroll on his phone with that patient, old-woman kind of curiosity. The store was quiet except for the sound of the  refrigerator and the buzz of a fly near the window.

“Is it a girl?” she asked suddenly.

Seongjun didn’t look up. “What?”

“You’ve got that look,” she said, smiling. “The kind boys get when a girl won’t look their way.”

He sighed and rubbed a hand across his jaw. “You’re imagining things.”

Ms. Han tilted her head, unconvinced. “You’re at that age. There’s always someone. Maybe she made you mad?”

He gave a sharp snort, sliding his phone into his pocket. “You got a habit of getting into people’s business, Ajhumma?”

“Ah, see? You are mad.” She leaned on the counter, chin propped on her hand. “Look, whoever she is—”

“It’s a he,” Seongjun cut in before he could stop himself. The words dropped like stones between them. He blinked once, realizing what he’d said, and swore softly under his breath.

The old woman didn’t flinch. For a heartbeat she just watched him, eyes narrowing in that knowing, grandmotherly way. Then, slowly, she smiled. It was not mockery but gentle amusement.

She started tidying the counter with exaggerated calm. “And whoever he is, he must be something if he’s got you this worked up.”

Seongjun clicked his tongue and turned toward the door. “You’ve lost it, old lady”

“Maybe,” she said lightly. “But let me tell you something before you stomp off and scare another customer.”

He stopped halfway, shoulders stiff. “What.”

Ms. Han took her time wiping her hands on a towel. “He’ll never look your way if you’re angry all the time.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. He turned his head just enough to glare at her over his shoulder.

“Fuck. I know that.”

The old woman chuckled, the sound soft as the rustle of the snack wrappers near the counter. “Then do something about it.”

“Like what? Knit him a scarf?” His voice cracked halfway between a laugh and a scoff.

“Maybe start with being more human,” she said simply. “Be honest.”

He looked away, the store window reflected him in the glass,  tall, sharp-eyed, a little too clean for someone who felt this dirty inside. Its too late for that. He’ll make an idiot out of himself if he tries being nice to Gyujin now.

“He hates me,” he muttered.

“People hate what hurts them,” she said. “And people hurt what scares them. You’ll figure out which one you are.”

Seongjun paused. Somehow, that blabbering old lady made sense, he exhaled through his nose, slow and heavy. “You talk like you’re giving a sermon.”

“Maybe someone needs to hear it,” Ms. Han said.

He clicked his tongue. “Yeah? Try it on someone who gives a damn.”

“I’m old enough to know when someone does.”

Seongjun looked down and laughed for a short while, amused.

She smiled and slid a lollipop across the counter toward him. “Here. Sweet things help when your heart’s sore.”

“I don’t eat that crap,” he said, but he took it anyway, fingers brushing the wrapper. The cheap candy felt stupidly light in his hand.

“Then give it to him,” she said. “Apology gift.”

He looked up at her then scoffed. “Yeah, sure. That’ll fix everything.”

“Never underestimate sugar,” Ms. Han said, eyes twinkling. “And don’t underestimate yourself either, boy.”

Seongjun stared at her for a moment, speechless. No one talked to him like that. Not his teachers, not his so-called friends. It was infuriating.

And a little comforting.

He shoved the lollipop into his pocket.

“You talk too much, ajumma.”

She grinned. “And you listen more than you pretend to, young man.”

He opened the door, the bell jingling again. Outside, the air had gone cooler; the sunset was bleeding into purple across the street. For a second he just stood there, shoulders slouched, hands buried in his pockets.

The lollipop pressed against his palm like a little secret.

It hit him, somewhere between the noise of the street and in his own head.

He liked Park Gyujin.

Yeah. He fucking liked him.

He liked that jumpy idiot with the soft hair and those eyes that always looked ready to run.

He liked him the way guys were supposed to like girls. 

It pissed him off. It made no sense. How could he crush on a dude so foolishly?

God, crush. What a stupid word. He hated even thinking it, hated how soft and stupid it sounded, like something only kids or hopeless fools used. But fuck—Gyujin. He was different. He’d been through plenty of girls before, plenty of easy flings, but none of them had ever felt like this. None had made him feel this way, none had made him want to keep looking even when he knew he shouldn’t. And Gyujin?

Gyujin was the first one he could honestly call a crush—if he forced himself to use that stupid, childish word. No one else had ever made him feel like this irritated and drawn.

Of all the people in that school, it had to be him.

But. He wasn’t going to be a fucking coward now. He’s going to own it.

—————

The hall was quiet, the morning sun streaking through the windows. Gyujin was at his usual spot near the lockers, blazer missing, eyes darting as soon as he heard heavy footsteps echo down the corridor.

“Fuck-gyu.”

Gyujin froze. That nickname. His stomach knotted. He knew it was him , always him, no one else ever used that tone.

“Park Gyujin,” he immediately corrected, then cussed himself out.

Gyujin turned his towards him slowly. Not again. Its so early in the morning.

Seongjun stopped a few feet away, hands in his pockets, blazer sitting sharp on his shoulders but the shirt still untucked. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small.

“This,” he said, tossing it lightly toward Gyujin. “Don’t choke on it.”

Gyujin instinctively jumped back. He looked down at the offering palm then up at Seongjun.

“…What is this?”  His voice came out questioning and a little shaky, his fingers curling into fists, alert.

Seongjun’s clicked his tongue.

“Relax, it’s just candy. Don’t make it a fucking production.”

Gyujin eyed it suspiciously. He didn’t move. He didn’t trust the small gesture. Maybe it was a trap. Maybe Seongjun was trying to humiliate him in front of someone else. Or maybe…he wanted to hit him.

“…Why?” Gyujin’s voice was low, wary, almost a whisper.

Seongjun eyes widened at the question. “Why?” He snorted. “…Just shut up and take it before I change my mind.”

Gyujin’s hand twitched toward the candy but stopped midway.

“I didn’t lace it, you think I need to drug you to mess with you?”

Gyujin exhaled slowly. The taller’s tone was rough, impatient, but not entirely hostile. That made Gyujin want to trust him just this once. His fingers reached toward the wrapper. There was a moment of hesitation, an unspoken tension that made Gyujin flinch backward again.

He finally picked up the lollipop, gripping it like it was a live grenade. His eyes stayed locked on Seongjun, calculating and scared. Why was Seongjun handing him that? Maybe he wants him to give it to someone else. Yeah, that must be it. Seongjun makes him run errands over any little thing.

“Who do I give this to?”

Seongjun’s sharp laugh echoed in the hallway, rough and unrefined. “Jesus, you really think that’s all I want? You’re so fucking predictable, Gyu.”

Be gentle.

The words echoed in his head.

Shit. He’d already fucked it up. Already. He could feel it in the stiff set of Gyujin’s shoulders, in the way the boy flinched even before he moved.

Be gentle. Fuck, Seongjun scoffed. He was a disaster at being gentle. Everything about him screamed the opposite. He didn’t know how. He didn’t know how to be anything other than rough. And now here he was, trying not to scare the hell out of someone he shouldn’t even be thinking about like this.

Every step, every breath, felt like a test he was failing before it even started.

Gyujin’s fingers pressed tight around the wrapper, hands trembling. Every instinct told him to run, but part of him…part of him couldn’t look away. Because the look on Seongjun’s face was different, it resembled panic and confusion.

He was standing there, tall, lean, sharp-eyed, questioning his life decisions and for some fucked-up reason that made Gyujin’s chest feel weird, he wasn’t moving to hit him.

Gyujin’s eyes lifted to meet his. The late afternoon light caught in them, making the black of his irises gleam almost unnaturally. The moles on his cheek placed like constellations. His lips were pressed together, as if holding back everything he wanted to say, and the faint twitch at the corner made Seongjun heart pick up a pace.

“Fucking hell,” Seongjun finally muttered under his breath, like he was mad at the air itself. He took a step closer.

The boy was somehow impossibly beautiful. Not the cute, helpless kind he was used to seeing when he cornered him, but unflinching and alive.

The thought lodged in his chest like a stone.

He’s looking at me and he’s not afraid.

Seongjun wanted to look away immediately, wanted to act like he didn’t feel it, but he couldn’t. The boy had a hold on him that made him loose all his composure. He gulped.

“Just…don’t make this weird, alright?”

Gyujin swallowed hard, trying not to let his voice shake. “Okay..”

Seongjun’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah? Well..” his expression impossible to read.

“Right…don’t fuck it up. And don’t think too much about why I’m giving this to you.”

Gyujin finally nodded, still staring back at him with the lollipop wrapped in his palm. Every muscle in his body was tense, ready to bolt, but he didn’t. He didn’t understand why he didn’t.

Seongjun huffed and shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Good. Now go. Eat it before it melts or some shit.”

Gyujin scurried off, his stomach churning, eyes never leaving Seongjun’s sharp silhouette in the fading sunlight.

He couldn’t understand that little thrill, that nervous pulse that ran through him when he felt Kang Seongjun’s gaze linger on himself.

Seongjun watched him go, scowling.

“God, what the fuck am I even doing…” he muttered, grinding his teeth. But there was a small flutter in his chest that he was never ready to accept.

Chapter Text

Next day, Seongjun sits behind him.

There were empty seats near the window, seats with better light, with less noise and most importantly, those that were unoccupied.

But the moment he stepped into the room and caught Gyujin's side profile, something tugged at him, he instinctively moved towards him. 

"Hey."

Hands in pockets, he muttered a quick commanding "Get lost." to the kid already seated behind Gyujin. The boy sitting there didn’t argue, he knew better not to mess with Seongjun.

The chair legs scraped against the floor sharply.

Gyujin's shoulders stiffened instantly, like his body had memorized Seongjun’s presence long before his eyes did. He didn’t dare look back. He just stared down at his notebook, pencil frozen mid-stroke.

Things hadn't ended well the last time Seongjun sat there.

Seongjun dropped onto the seat behind him, stretching his legs out just enough to brush against the bottom of Gyujin’s chair. He leaned back lazily, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other tapping idly against the desk. His gaze didn’t move. The back of Gyujin’s head was almost too still, strands of dark brown hair shifting slightly whenever the ceiling fan turned.

And Gyujin’s posture adjusted instantly, like muscle memory, his spine stayed stiff, too careful. Every time he adjusted even slightly, it looked like a quiet flinch. It made something coil in Seongjun’s chest.

He told himself to stop looking. To act normal.

He tried to look at the board. At the teacher. Anywhere but at the boy in front of him.

But his eyes kept betraying him.

He watched the way the sunlight hit Gyujin’s hair, how the strands kept brushing against his collar. The stupid, small things he shouldn’t notice. He stared anyway, pretending it was casual, pretending he was just bored.

You’re not looking. You’re not fucking looking.

His eyes said otherwise.

Every few seconds, Gyujin would shift slightly, like he could feel it, that heavy gaze burning holes through the back of his head. He didn’t turn around once. And that… for some reason, made Seongjun feel uneasy.

He wanted to see his face. He didn’t know why.

The teacher’s voice blurred into background noise. The pens lay untouched on the desk, his thumb tapping restlessly against the metal edge.
 
Gyujin could feel an invisible line between them, cautious that one wrong move might draw attention, so he focused on the lecture.l instead. His shoulders ached from sitting too straight. Even the slightest motion could piss Seongjun off. 

Don’t move. Don’t turn around. Don’t let him think you notice. Don't give him a reaction.

The teacher’s voice had long drowned somewhere in the background, something about midterms and assignments, but Seongjun couldn’t focus in the slightest. His eyes kept drifting, the curve of Gyujin’s shoulder, the way his hand trembled faintly when he turned a page. The sweater Gyujin wore wasn’t thick like the blazer. The fabric clung a little when he leaned forward, enough for Seongjun to catch the faint line of his waist, the dip of his back where the seat pressed against it.

His jaw flexed. He tore his eyes away for half a second, then looked back anyway.

Gyujin wasn't bulky. He was lean, almost skinny. It was ironic.

His mom ran a restaurant, didn't she? 
Does she not fucking feed him?

He wondered if Gyujin could feel his stare boring into him. He probably could with the way he straightens up when Seongjun drags his gaze over his back. What if he could tell what he's thinking? 

Fuck, that'd be too embarassing. 

At one point, Gyujin reached up to adjust his collar. His fingers brushed his neck and Seongjun caught himself exhaling quietly, almost like he’d been holding his breath.

He snapped out of it immediately. 

This was insane. He was acting like some love sick highschool girl, not Kang Seongjun.

Weird. This is fucking weird.

He probably looks so pathetic right now.

The bell shrieked through the room, jolting him back like a slap.

Recess.

The room exploded into noise, chairs screeching, chatter flooding out into the corridor. Gyujin gathered his stuff, putting them back in place slowly, like he was trying not to be noticed, but of course Seongjun noticed anyway. He stood, gathering his books, head bowed low, and turned just slightly—

Their eyes met.

For five seconds, maybe less, but it was enough.

Long enough for Seongjun’s heart to lurch once, before it even registered what was happening. Long enough for everything else to blur, the chatter, the scraping chairs, even his own breathing.

Gyujin froze mid-step, eyes darting to the side almost instantly, but that half-second hesitation gave him away.

And then he was gone, weaving through the desks and out the door before Seongjun could even think.

For a moment, Seongjun stared after him, unmoving, watching him leave.

Then the chair screeched as he pushed back and stood abruptly.

He didn’t think. Just acted.

He needed to see where he went.
Didn’t even know why. Just—needed to.

But the second he stepped into the aisle, two of his guys showed up out of nowhere.

“Yo, this bastard—” Yuseok’s voice was loud enough to make a few people glance back. “He brought a whole pack of vapes today, can you believe that?”

Sangtae groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You asked for it, dumbass. Why’re you surprised now?”

Yuseok cackled. “Still! That's insane—”

“Move,” Seongjun muttered, already trying to sidestep them.

They didn’t get the hint.

Sangtae caught his sleeve halfway through a laugh. “Seongjun-ah, you good? You look like you’re about to kill someone.”

He was. Almost.

Seongjun jerked his arm free, stepping around them without another word. By the time he made it to the door, the hallway was already emptying out, Gyujin nowhere in sight, swallowed by the crowd of uniforms in the corridor.

His fingers curled into a fist against his thigh. When he stepped out, a few students lingered, heading toward the courtyard. He quickly scanned the crowd once, twice.

Nothing.

He kissed his teeth, annoyed, For a second, he almost turned back. Then, through the glass windows lining the corridor, a familiar shape caught his eye.

Down near the open grounds where a group of juniors were kicking a football around, shouting and laughing, Gyujin stood by himself, hands resting on his sides awkwardly.

He looked smaller from a distance. Not scared. Just quietly minding his own business. Waiting for someone, maybe.

Yeondeong, probably.

The thought pissed him off. He wasn’t even sure why, maybe it was the way Gyujin always seemed more relaxed around that idiot, or how Yeondeong could make him laugh without even trying.

What the hell did that fatass have that he didn’t?

Seongjun clenched his jaw. It wasn’t like Yeondeong was special. He was slow, sloppy, the very image of a loser. Half the time, he was eating, the other half, he was talking with his mouth full.

And still Gyujin still followed him around. Smiled at him. Walked with him.

Meanwhile, Seongjun couldn’t even get a full conversation out of him.

He scoffed under his breath, shoving his hands into his pockets.

He's doing it again.

Ridiculous. Since when did he start thinking like this?

He wasn’t some moody teenage girl sulking over a crush. He had better things to give a shit about.

He couldn't waste any more time unpacking things, his feet moved, crossing the field, straight toward the boy, the air colder than it had been inside. The sound of the football hitting the fence echoed somewhere to the left. A whistle blew. Laughter followed.

But all Seongjun saw was him.

Gyujin glanced up at the noise, then froze when his eyes landed on Seongjun walking toward him.

His first instinct was to look away, but he didn’t move, just shifted awkwardly, gaze dropping to the ground.

Seongjun’s strides were unhurried, but his chest rose and fell too fast for someone who’d just walked across the field. His hair was a little messy from the breeze, collar slightly undone, like he’d left in a rush.

Why was he looking for him?

Gyujin didn’t move, didn’t even blink, just watched as Seongjun came to a stop a few steps away, unreadable eyes flicking over him once.

Seongjun stoof stopped in front of him, slightly out of breath.

The memory of class still stayed. He’d felt those eyes on the back of his head all period. He’d thought maybe he’d imagined it. But now, standing here, with Seongjun’s gaze fixed squarely on him again… maybe he hadn’t.

For a second, neither said anything.

Then Seongjun spoke, tone trying to sound casual:

“Where’s your blazer?”

Gyujin blinked, thrown off. “Huh?”

“Your blazer,” Seongjun repeated, “You’re not wearing it.”

Gyujin hesitated. Does Seongjun really not know or is he pretending not to? Why is he even asking him that?

“It’s… at the dry cleaner,” Gyujin said quietly, eyes flicking away.

Seongjun frowned, about to ask why — but then it hit him.

The memory came back fast: the cafeteria, Yuseok laughing too loud, Sangtae tipping a tray over him, splattering over Gyujin’s head. He’d been there. He’d watched it happen — hell, he’d even smirked when Gyujin shot him glares.

Something flickered across Seongjun’s face. 
He looked away, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek, embarrassed, maybe, though he’d rather die than admit that.

Or guilt. Though that word didn’t quite fit him.

His eyes darted away for a second before he exhaled through his nose, like he was annoyed at himself.

“Right,” he muttered.

Gyujin didn’t say anything. The silence stretched thin between them, not hostile. Seongjun took a sharp little breath, then did something that made Gyujin’s heart skip.

Without saying anything else, he shrugged out of his own blazer. The movement was quick, almost careless, but his fingers fumbled slightly. 

Before Gyujin could react, Seongjun was already draping it over his shoulders, clumsy but deliberate, like he’d seen it done somewhere else, probably a shitty romantic film he was forced to watch.

Gyujin froze completely. The warmth of the jacket, the faint smell of smoke and detergent, wrapped around him before the realization did.

The fabric was too warm. He stiffened, his heart tripping over itself. His fingers clutched the edges instinctively, but he couldn’t look up.

“What are you—”

“Just wear it,” Seongjun interrupted, voice rougher than before. 

His hand lingered for a heartbeat longer, adjusting the collar before he pulled back. His hand brushed Gyujin’s arm by accident, and both of them flinched.

He was staring again. Eyes flicking from Gyujin’s bangs to his lips, then away like it burned to look too long. 

"I'm fine," Gyujin spoke.

Seongjun’s voice came out lower when he finally spoke. “It's cold. You look stupid without it.”

That should’ve sounded cruel. It didn’t.

Gyujin didn’t know what to say to that. His throat felt tight, words caught somewhere between disbelief and an uncertain feeling he didn't want to acknowledge. 

He blinked up at him, big brown eyes scanning the taller, trying to make sense of it all.

The sunlight hit the side of the shorter's face, catching in his lashes, and he looked almost shy, like a startled deer, the prettiest one ever.

And Seongjun forgot how to breathe for a second.

Those eyes. Wide, soft yet sharp, too damn innocent for the kind of thoughts running through his own head — looked right at him, and something inside him lurched. It was stupid. He’d seen Gyujin flinch, glare, even tear up before.

But this?

This quiet and hesitant look messed him up, made his throat dry, made his heartbeat fast enough to drown out the noise of the field.

He quickly tried to swallow down whatever that was. Get it together.

Gyujin didn’t say 'thank you' or didn’t have to. Because the careful, wary, almost gentle way he looked at Seongjun said enough.

Seongjun’s gaze flickered back to him once more, just to catch another look of his face and then away again. Staring too long would give something away.

And to Gyujin, maybe it already had.

Seongjun watched him fumble with the sleeves. “You better not lose it,” he spoke, it was almost an afterthought.

Gyujin looked up at him then, hair falling slightly into his eyes. “I won’t."

A football rolled past them, bumping against Seongjun’s shoe.

He kicked it back, hard, without looking away from Gyujin once.

“Good,” he muttered, and started walking off before he'd say or do something stupid.

Though for some reason, it felt like he was leaving something behind.