Chapter Text
“Please Sieun?”
Sieun presses his lead pencil firmly against his papers, hunched over his desk. The lead pushed back into the pencil under the force of his white knuckled grip. His roommate pleaded with him for the umpteenth time, causing an ache in his temples. He turned to give him an irritated stare.
To his credit, Juntae just swallowed and persevered. “I…if you really don’t want to go, I can go alone. But I think it would be fun!”
“I’m not going,” Sieun says, words clipped, “and you don’t need to either. Study or something instead.” He sets his pencil back against paper, itching to put his earbuds back in, but overall resisting.
“Come on, Sieun! Live a little.”
Sieun stared down at the equations and solutions on his paper, a little irked. He had never really understood that phrase. It just seemed like an excuse people used to peer pressure others into doing what they found fun. Besides, wasn’t that what he was already doing, living? Even when his parents separated and treated him like the skeleton in their closets, he still lived. Not a little or a lot, it’s just all he knew to do. He lived in the pages of his textbooks and assignments, in his academic rewards and the fleeting praise.
The event Juntae was begging to attend just didn’t appeal to him. So he told him as much, “If your definition of living is a Haunted House set in a frat, made by a bunch of assholes that do nothing but play beer pong and wear their hats backwards, then I think I’m satisfied as I am.”
“Those are just stereotypes, Sieun. I mean…true for some, but not all. Please? We can go get costumes tonight!” Juntae chewed on his lip during the following silence before murmuring, “Baku invited us.”
“Who?”
“Baku? You know, Park Humin,” Juntae said, “I have a couple classes with him.”
“You’re studying veterinary medicine,” Sieun carefully said, “How would you two have classes in common? Isn’t he doing sports something?”
“I…honestly don’t know why he’s there or what he majors in,” Juntae laughs, “he’s an enigma. A funny one.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Sieun mutters, eyes still on his paper as he writes out the answers to more equations.
“You’re an enigma, too,” Juntae says, and Sieun isn’t sure how to respond to that. So, he doesn’t.
“Baku, Park Humin, whatever. Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”
Admittedly Sieun had heard of him. Spoken to him, in a one-sided exchange. He was a boisterous, loud, personality; the absolute opposite of Sieun. He could hear his voice echo from the basketball court everytime he passed by, it was inevitable. And he knew Baku was a member of the very frat hosting the haunted house.
“No, but it means something to me. He’s…a good guy. I want to put myself out there and make more friends,” Juntae frowned and sighed.
“Yeah, but why him? You could make friends with a brain tumor and get less headaches than you would by being around him.”
Call him bitter, but there had been one particular instance when Sieun had to confront Baku for his volume directly. One of his classrooms were right above the basketball court, and not even closing the windows could keep out Baku’s jeering and victory yells. It interfered with his focus, but his instructor never seemed to care. So, one day, he had stopped by the court in passing and said as much. It wasn’t a request as much as a, “you’re too loud.”
Baku had seemed both affronted and apologetic, while his friends laughed at him in the back. But Sieun hadn’t paid much attention to them. He said his piece and then left. In the guy’s slight defense, it had seemed like Baku made more of an effort to contain his voice in days passing.
Juntae frowned, “he’s more than just his…volume. How would you feel if people just reduced you down to your face and…manners of speaking?”
“They do,” Sieun pointed out.
“Not the good ones. You gotta give people a chance,” he offered.
Sieun leveled him with a stare, not saying anything for a while. Carefully, he asked, “Do you…like him?”
Juntae paused, blinking owlishly, before doubling over into laughter. “What? Seriously? Are you asking if I have a crush on Baku?”
“Yeah, I was just wondering,” Sieun fidgeted in his seat a bit, feeling as though he’d read the situation wrong. His ears turned a little red as he looked away.
Chuckling, Juntae shook his head. “No. At least, not like that. I’d see him more as a big brother, you know?”
“I’m an only child,” Sieun remarks with a shrug, “I really wouldn’t know.”
After a brief pause Juntae just smiled, a little downtrodden, “You may feel the same if you talked to him…or anyone other than me for the matter. But…I guess I’ll go alone, it’s okay.” He stood up, sliding his jacket on and approaching their dorm’s door. “I’ll be back late. I’m gonna go see if I can find a costume. Need anything?”
Sieun sighed, staring up at their dorm ceiling and the hints of mold under plaster. That was their university’s big solution to the leak in their ceiling; bandages over bullet holes. As his eyes bore into the stains he told himself he couldn't let Juntae of all people go into a frat house alone. That was the scariest part of the entire event, that it was set in some bro-topia that probably had much more mysterious stains in it than what he was looking at right now.
Sieun bit the inside of his cheek. As Juntae was turning the door knob, he tore his gaze off the sad ceiling tiles and stood up resolutely, knees creaking from sitting so long.
He begrudgingly put his materials away, glancing at Juntae’s hopeful expression as he said, “fine. But just the haunted house. Just this once. And no extreme costumes.”
Juntae grinned ear to ear and hopped up and down, grabbing at Sieun’s forearm and tugging, “Yes! You won’t regret this.”
Sieun hoped that was true as he was dragged forcefully, by Juntae’s surprisingly strong grip, outside into the chilly October air.
Sieun could practically feel his blood pressure rising as he sat on the edge of the auditorium stage, clothes and props scattered around him. He flexed his hands anxiously at the sheer unexpected volume of fabric surrounding him.
“You know,” He started, battling to choose his words carefully, “when you said ‘get a costume’ I imagined going to the store.”
Yeongi stumbled over, bogged down by more fluffy dresses and miscellaneous accessories. “Why would you go buy what you can get for free, hmm?”
Sieun tried to look up at her but had to glance forward again when the stage lights burned into his retinas. He was used to being on stage for certificates and rewards, not whatever this was.
“First of all, these costumes have been worn by hundreds of people,” he gestured vaguely at the mysterious stain on one tutu, “and if they’re this easy to just walk in and borrow, I’m not sure I want to know what’s been done in them.”
Yeongi pulled a face and turned to Juntae, “Your friend’s got a stick up his ass. Good costume idea, make him a scarecrow. He's halfway there.”
Sieun blinked and opened his mouth incredulously when Juntae just laughed nervously, waving his hands, “That’s just Sieun. He means well, plus he agreed to this. It doesn’t have to be anything complex, and we don’t need to match,” he reassured her, but tagged on, “although that would be fun!”
Juntae clambered over piles, picking through with concentration. Yeongi sighed and kneeled down to help him. He glanced up thankfully at Yeongi, asking, “what are you dressing up as?”
“A cat,” she makes paws with her hands and puffs her cheeks out, “a cute one.”
Juntae nods eagerly until Sieun scoffs lightly. If the auditorium hadn’t been so empty, they likely wouldn’t have even heard it. Juntae was still convinced he was hearing things, eyeing Sieun in shock. Yeongi herself whips her head toward him and stands, hands on hips. “What, think you can do better?”
“You’re head of the drama club,” he shrugged, “I just was expecting something more...complicated.”
She relaxes a bit but still rolls her eyes, “Halloween is my break from stuffy historical bullshit,” she declares, marching forward to pull him up.
She ignores his protests and shoves him closer to the costumes. “Sounds like you need a break too. Pick or I’ll choose something slutty,” she promises.
She picks up a blue dress and holds it up, “you’d make a good Elsa. Let it go, let it go, pull the stick out of your asshole,” she spun around with the dress as she sang in a truly tone-deaf manner.
Sieun rubs his forehead, mouth twitching slightly as he stares at her theatrics. Juntae laughs and, once he settles down, puts his chin on his palm, staring fiercely at the piles of clothes. “What screams, ‘Yeon Sieun’?”
“All the girls and gays that haven’t had the inconvenience of actually speaking with him,” Yeongi quips, making a mustache with the ends of her hair as she stares down into the maw of fabric and frills, “cute face, shit attitude.”
Sieun narrows his eyes at her, “Bad news about you.”
Juntae chuckles nervously, eyes darting between Sieun and Yeongi, before something orange captures his attention. He gasps excitedly and tugs on it.
Yeongi drops her staring contest with Sieun to lean forward curiously, “Oh, that.”
Juntae is the perfect picture of ecstatic as he hugs the wig to his chest, “is this what I think it is?”
Yeongi laughs, a big full bellied laugh that has Sieun glancing back with wide eyes at the auditorium doors from the unexpected volume. He still wasn’t convinced they were even supposed to be in here this late.
Yeongi just disregarded him, handing Juntae the other half of the costume, “Yeah, our class had a Nintendo café one semester. Princess Daisy was one of the characters. Baku was Bowser and holy shit, that was an experience.”
She perked up suddenly, glancing slyly at Sieun. He froze, caution blooming across his features. “What?”
Without responding, she hops up and runs behind the curtains like a woman possessed. Both Sieun and Juntae stare at the spot she disappeared with confusion.
When she returns, it’s with a blond wig and a dress. She drops it in Sieun’s arms smugly. He looks down, tense, and without moving an inch he glances back up, “…what’s this?”
“Juntae said you were smart. Do the math, pretty boy," She grins like the Cheshire cat.
Juntae, meanwhile, claps his hands and rocks forward in excitement. “Oh my god! Princess Peach is perfect for you! And I’d be Daisy!”
“I’m not wearing a dress,” Sieun immediately shoots it down, but doesn’t drop the garments.
“Oh Juntae, did you hear that?” Yeongi cups a hand around her ear, “I heard someone say ‘fragile masculinity’.”
“If you’re hearing voices, you should get that checked out,” Sieun deadpans, “but you’re probably beyond help.”
He slides his gaze to Juntae, ready to tell him to scrap this entire operation and that his friend is nuts. He hesitates when he sees Juntae’s devastated expression, clinging to the wig like a lifeline. With a heavy sigh, he glances down at his own wig and dress.
“You’ll have to help me with the wig,” he folds, glancing away.
Juntae whips his head up and then toward Yeongi, and then back to Sieun. “Really!? Great! Yeongi said she could do our makeup beforehand tomorrow,” he rushes out as he leaps up, eyes wide and endearing behind his circular lenses.
Sieun just nods along, checking out mentally for the rest of the conversation. The other two excitedly plan what they’ll do in preparation for the next day's event.
All fight completely drains from Sieun's body as he tells himself this is for Juntae, that nobody will care what he’s wearing and he isn’t the only one with a ridiculous costume.
“I told you the puppy dog eyes would work!” Yeongi whispers, and Sieun pretends he didn’t hear it. It’s better that way.