Chapter Text
The skies were partially cloudy and overcast, rain likely going to taunt Seonghwa’s afternoon walk home. He had forgotten to complete his advanced calculus homework (which rarely occurred) and would now have to do it during lunch, forgoing eating for integrals.
Even worse, he had woken up late, unable to style his hair and iron his uniform tie, and, in his haste, had rushed out of the house without breakfast and his literature folder.
He could already forecast that he was going to have a bad day, but his assessment of ‘bad’ transformed into ‘even worse than anticipated’ when he walked into his first class and found Kim Hongjoong sitting in his seat.
“Hongjoong.” He said coldly, glaring at the squirrel-like boy occupying his chair. As always, there was a clear glint of mirth in Hongjoong’s eyes as he smirked up at Seonghwa.
In most classes, they technically didn’t have assigned seating, but everyone knew that Seonghwa, who was the class president of the senior grade, sat in the first chair of the first row in every course, to have the best view of the lessons on the board.
“Why are you in my seat?” He rubbed his temples.
“Last I checked, it doesn’t have your name on it.” Hongjoong replied levelly, still firmly planted on Seonghwa’s chair.
“That may be true, but considering I sit in this exact seat in this exact position in every class every day, it might as well.” Seonghwa declared, lightly kicking at his chair to startle Hongjoong.
Seonghwa despised the shorter boy with a burning passion. He was Seonghwa’s opposite in most ways–sarcastic, lazy, blunt, and occasionally outright rude, he embodied all of the qualities Seonghwa disliked the most in a person. Seonghwa equated him to a mosquito, or a squirrel living in one’s backyard tree. Persistent and irritating, yet impossible to remove from his vicinity like a pest.
Unfortunately, despite the minimal effort he exerted in his studies and the general carelessness with which he approached his education, Hongjoong excelled. While Seonghwa was always top of the class, Hongjoong was always behind him by a narrow margin–regardless of the fact that Seonghwa hadn’t seen him crack a book in almost five months.
And now, here he was again, impeding Seonghwa’s progress and stomping all over his carefully earned respect.
“Hongjoong. Get off of my chair or I will remove you myself.”
“Hm? The genteel and sophisticated Park Seonghwa, forcibly removing me from my chair? I’d like to see that–”
Hongjoong was abruptly cut off as Seonghwa, who had reached the limits of his patience, reached down, wrapped his hands tightly around Hongjoong’s waist, and began to pry him off of the chair.
Hongjoong shrieked (of course he did, he also had a flair for the dramatic). Seonghwa placed his hand over the smaller boy’s mouth, dragging him away from the desk successfully. He felt something wet and warm travel over his palm—
“KIM HONGJOONG!”
Seonghwa shook his hand in disgust, relocating Hongjoong to the closest chair besides his own–the one directly to its right. He grabbed a napkin from his backpack and wiped his hand, going up to the teacher’s desk (who was running late and had not witnessed the spectacle, thankfully) to pump hand sanitizer onto the spot where Hongjoong’s tongue had been.
The rest of the class gaped at the two of them–although their academic rivalry was known, Seonghwa usually handled most encounters with the reckless and snide Hongjoong with grace. But today, it seemed as if he had lost his temper.
Adjusting his wire framed glasses, Seonghwa slid triumphantly into his rightful seat. When he glanced over at Hongjoong, however, to see his reaction, he was met with a surprising sight.
Hongjoong’s expressive brown eyes were wide with what appeared to be a mixture of shock and, strangely enough, joy. His cheeks were prettily flushed and his hair was ruffled due to Seonghwa’s manhandling.
“What the fuck, Seonghwa.” He murmured, their desks in close enough proximity to hold a conversation.
“You were sitting in my chair.”
“Once again, NOT your chair. You grabbed me like I was a doll–”
“You licked my hand, gross ass!”
“That was self-defense!” Hongjoong whisper-screamed in reply as their teacher finally walked into the room, blissfully unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded.
***
Later, in the afternoon, as Seonghwa was hunched over his calculus textbook and flipping frantically through the pages for his problem set, someone plopped their lunch tray across from his schoolwork. Expecting it to be one of his friends, acquaintances, or a member of the student council, he lifted his head to greet them only to be met with the sight of an exceedingly mischievous looking Hongjoong. Damn it, he thought.
“Hongjoong. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Hi Hwahwa. I was swinging by with my lunch and saw you sitting all by yourself, looking rather lonely. So I decided to brighten up your studying with my glowing presence!” Hongjoong grinned, showing off his white teeth.
“Do not call me that, please.”
Hongjoong began to messily eat, picking apart his sandwich and removing any trace of green from its middle.
“Loosen up, Hwahwa! Oh, is that our calc homework? I have the answers if you want.”
Seonghwa gritted his teeth. He would rather die than copy Hongjoong’s homework, even if he was standing on top of a volcano about to erupt and it were his last possible escape route.
“No.”
“A man of few words, I see. So you’re not going to eat lunch at all?”
Seonghwa shook his head mutely.
“Did you at least eat breakfast?”
Seonghwa shook his head again, glowering at Hongjoong as he solved a particularly nasty indefinite integral.
Hongjoong frowned, and it surprisingly seemed genuine.
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Hwahwa. You shouldn’t skip it, even when you’re running late!”
“Hongjoong, you’re not my mother. Please, for once, shut up.”
Hongjoong fell silent at that, sulkily continuing to pick each and every vegetable off of his lunch tray and onto a tissue.
Somehow feeling bad for reprimanding Hongjoong, Seonghwa decided to continue the conversation with a jab.
“Are you a child? How can you lecture me about breakfast while picking all of the vegetables out of your food?” Seonghwa questioned incredulously.
Instead of replying with a ribbed retort, Hongjoong pouted.
“I hate most green food items. Like vegetables, mint choco…they’re all so bad.”
Seonghwa rolled his eyes, finishing up the last of his work.
“You really are a piece of work, Kim Hongjoong.”
Hongjoong stuck his tongue out playfully at Seonghwa, before traipsing away to return his dirty tray to the cafeteria shelves.
***
Thankfully, the rest of the day went relatively smoothly. Seonghwa apologized to his literature teacher for his carelessness, submitted his calculus homework successfully, and excelled in his art class as he crafted an exemplary charcoal sketch.
Additionally, he had found a melon bun and carton of banana milk on his desk two periods after lunch, hungrily devouring both items without a second thought. There had been a little post-it note with a pink heart on it taped onto the plastic of the bun, but Seonghwa merely tucked it into his desk without a second thought. Maybe a secret admirer? What he didn’t notice was that Hongjoong’s ears were suspiciously red and a pleased smile had stretched across his face watching Seonghwa eat.
However, there was still one issue. The drizzle from this morning had developed into a full-on downpour, and Seonghwa had no umbrella.
Heading to his locker to try to find some spare jacket or textbook he could sacrifice and clutch over his head in the onslaught, Seonghwa found its door already partially opened and an umbrella inside. Pushing up his glasses, he tilted his head, puzzled. This secret admirer was surprisingly attentive and useful.
He noticed a retreating figure around the corner of the row of lockers that looked suspiciously like…Hongjoong?
***
Walking home in the rain, Seonghwa felt almost peaceful. The pretty leaves surrounding him smelled earthy and rich, and the umbrella was large enough to cover him and his backpack. When he had opened it up, another post-it had fallen out.
This time, it said ‘I hope you can stay dry with this. - <3’.
Seonghwa wondered who this secretive admirer could be, and why Hongjoong had been near his row of lockers rather than his own, which was three columns down and to the left.
Still a fifteen minute walk away from his apartment complex, looking forward to his mother’s heartfelt cooking and warm smile, Seonghwa spotted a damp figure, racing through the flood of water.
…Hongjoong? Why doesn’t he have an umbrella?
Seonghwa giggled to himself, watching the boy scramble for shelter like a half-drowned squirrel searching for acorns. He wanted to call out to his rival, but decided that that would further ruin Hongjoong’s already troublesome journey home.
Not wanting to hassle the boy, Seonghwa kept on walking, turning right and losing sight of Hongjoong.
He smiled to himself, grateful for the bun, milk, and mysterious umbrella, each of which had made his day significantly better.