Chapter Text
USA, New York – Brooklyn, Silverlake High School (2005)
They say that going for a walk helps balance cortisol levels. Choi—barely nineteen years old and heading to school on just two hours of sleep—figured that whoever said that had clearly never actually had to go to school. Because right now, as he walked toward his new school, the only thing he felt was an overwhelming amount of stress. Even the MP3 player he’d tossed into his right pocket felt like a dead weight on his body, making it hard to focus on the music playing in his ears. As for the people caught up in the morning rush—to his eyes, they looked like so many droplets threatening to make a glass overflow.
Middle schoolers setting off for school on their bicycles; students having breakfast at Denny's as if school didn't exist; businessmen rushing to catch the buses that arrived only once an hour... It was a scene of utter chaos.
He kept walking, wondering if he would ever be able to live a life that felt that full. Would he ever escape the cycle of school in the morning and home in the evening? The idea of himself chasing a purpose felt strange, almost uncomfortable. He pushed the thought aside. He didn’t expect to live much longer than five years anyway.
After a long walk that had gone almost completely numb in his ankles, he finally reached the school. The black iron gate rose in front of him, heavy and indifferent. A security guard stood nearby, absorbed in a bag of fresh donuts, as if the earlier security incident had never existed at all.
He didn’t bother engaging. Just stepped past him and into the wide schoolyard.
He was a magnet for trouble.
The thought barely settled before it proved itself right.
A skateboard sliced through the space beside him, close enough to cut the air. A boy shot past, wheels rattling against the ground, momentum barely under control.
“Hey, are you sick?! Don’t stand in the middle of my way!”
“Watch where you're going, you fucker!”
No.
Of course, he didn’t say it.
Not out loud, anyway. It stayed trapped behind his teeth, swallowed before it could turn into something real.
He didn’t want to make enemies on his first day of school. Instead of responding, he hurried forward, ignoring the insults thrown at him from behind.
When he reached the entrance, he pulled off his headphones and let them hang loosely around his neck. The sudden rise in sound hit him like a wave—voices, footsteps, laughter, all of it crashing in at once.
The rush had already begun. Finding classrooms, finding people, finding something that passed for belonging. Couples clinging to each other in the early morning made it worse, like the school had already decided who fit together and who didn’t.
He glanced down the corridor. A teacher stood in the middle, shouting at passing students, listing uniform rules that no one seemed to be listening to. It wasn’t working.
At least she would be useful to Soobin for two seconds.
With some effort, he finally reached her and tapped the female teacher on the shoulder. When she turned to Soobin, her eyes flicked over his clothes first, quick and assessing.
“Speak,” she said shortly.
She was already being filed away in Soobin’s mental list of People I’m sure I won’t need anything from.
He cleared his throat.
“I’m a visiting student from Queens. How do I find my class?”
The teacher’s already sour expression darkened the moment Soobin spoke. It was the kind of reaction that didn’t need explanation, even if no one ever said it out loud.
Everyone knew the staff weren’t exactly thrilled about students from Soobin’s school being hosted here for a year. The administration had agreed, sure, and the principal had backed it, but approval didn’t mean acceptance.
“It’s on the bulletin board at the end of the corridor. Seniors are on the far right.”
He gave a brief nod in thanks for her curt reply, then put his headphones back on and continued down the long corridor.
And—oh, right. Let me explain why Soobin and his school were here in the first place.
Before coming here, he had been studying in Queens, his hometown. But over the past two years, the rise in school shootings had left too many schools damaged and too many systems strained. Unable to cover the costs, the education authorities had redistributed students from several schools to others—six schools in total.
Soobin’s school ended up at Silverlake High School, which was already overcrowded and only grew more chaotic with their arrival.
Soobin Theo Choi, who once just longed to finish high school and be free, had fallen into a deep depression after witnessing the deaths of three people from his old class—including his closest friend—in front of his eyes. After that, he had to take a year off.
That was most likely why the teachers didn’t want them. They didn’t see students. They saw potential trauma cases walking into their halls.
It could be true.
Because the scene in front of him seemed to reveal something he didn’t want to name—the potential violence that lived quietly inside people, waiting for the right pressure to bring it out.
Visiting students and freshmen had formed a dense crowd in front of the bulletin board, practically climbing over one another just to see the lists. Some stretched onto their toes, others shoved closer without thinking, and a few even snapped photos with flip phones, as if the information might vanish if they didn’t trap it in time.
He stood there, waiting for the crowd to thin, when a hand suddenly closed around his shoulder—firm, insistent.
He flinched.
The boy holding him was shorter, slightly out of breath like he’d sprinted a marathon just to catch him. Small, irritated, and very clearly annoyed.
“Hey, buddy,” he said, still gripping him. “I’ve been calling you for minutes. Could you take those headphones off?!”
After glaring at the big-eyed boy who had yelled at him, he finally took off his headphones.
“Ah! That’s better now. Anyway, I’m Taehyun. Taehyun Kang. You’re in our class, and I’ll be your mentor for a week.”
When it became clear Soobin wasn’t going to respond, Taehyun grabbed his arm firmly and started pulling him toward the stairs.
“The first rule in my guide is: never be late for Mr. David’s class.”
They reached the top floor and stopped in front of a classroom with slightly funny stickers on the door. Taehyun took a deep breath and knocked twice.
After getting confirmation from inside, they went in.
Taehyun quickly added, “He got lost because it’s crowded downstairs, sir.”
The chubby figure that came into Soobin’s view scanned him from head to toe. He pushed up his glasses, which looked slightly too small for his face.
“I won’t say anything since it’s the first day,” he said. “But don’t let it happen again. Introduce yourself briefly, and let’s begin the lesson.”
That was the moment.
He took a deep breath and let his gaze sweep across the classroom.
Girls were already touching up their makeup, completely uninterested in Mr. David’s presence. A few students were bent over their desks, doodling in the margins of their notebooks like the lesson hadn’t even started yet. The desks were messy, unevenly pushed together, like no one had bothered to decide where things were supposed to belong. Everyone had already gravitated toward whoever felt familiar. Groups had formed early, fast, almost instinctively.
People don’t wait to become lonely. They just choose it faster than they admit.
In the middle of it all stood a single empty desk, its surface scratched with old scribbles—names, initials, half-erased jokes that probably once felt important.
He stared at the desk longer than he meant to.
It was perfect for him.
"Soobin Choi. My English name is Theo. That's all."
Apparently, the introduction hadn’t been enough for them—quiet giggles rippled through a few corners of the room. One sharp gesture from Mr. David was enough to cut it off. Silence settled, thin but obedient.
Soobin moved to his seat.
Since it was the first lesson of the first day, the books hadn’t been handed out yet. Mr. David began with introductions of his own, then launched into a steady explanation of how the class would run.
Soobin let his gaze drift across the room. No one was really listening. A few pretended, most didn’t bother. Only Taehyun seemed focused, sitting up like this actually mattered.
He rested his head against the desk.
School had barely started, and already, a dull headache was pressing in.
The sounds of the classroom began to blur, voices and movement melting into a dull hum as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
The sharp ring of the bell and a nudge at his shoulder pulled Soobin out of sleep far too quickly. He lifted his head, blinking the haze away, and found himself face to face with Taehyun—far too close, wearing an almost annoyingly bright expression.
“Come on,” Taehyun said. “Let me show you around the school. It won’t take long.”
Like he had already decided it for both of them.
Soobin jumped out of his seat to catch up with the boy, who was already walking ahead without waiting for him. He quickened his pace, weaving through the hallway.
The biggest crowd had gathered around the lockers—people already trying to claim and personalize them like it meant something. Even though seniors had fixed classrooms, freshmen and sophomores were still drifting from one room to another every break, filling the halls with constant movement.
They walked a little further before stopping in front of a classroom with a loose doorknob and a narrow, unusually long entrance. Taehyun didn’t hesitate and just started explaining.
“This is the music classroom. We have two hours of music a week. Don’t worry—attendance isn’t exactly enforced, but you still have to be here during the lesson. We don’t really learn anything. Most people just use the time to study for other exams.”
He finished speaking and reached for the door. Soobin expected him to open it normally.
He was wrong.
Taehyun grabbed the loose doorknob, bent it upward like he’d done it a hundred times before, and kicked the door. It burst open with a deafening bang.
Inside, they were met with stacks of music stands, some leaning awkwardly against each other like they’d been left mid-use. Instruments and piles of books lined the edges of the room, gathering dust. These were probably the ones meant to be handed out today.
A thin layer of dust covered most of the furniture, the kind that only settled after a long break—like the room itself had been holding its breath, waiting for noise to return.
They stepped back out of the classroom and into the hallway.
“Let’s head upstairs,” Taehyun said. “We’ll come back down when we’re done there. There’s not much to see there anyway.”
Like he’d already judged the entire place and moved on.
He glanced at Taehyun when he caught him mumbling something under his breath. The guy really did talk a lot. Or maybe Soobin was just too quiet. Either way, there was something about that constant energy he couldn’t help but envy.
Taehyun looked completely normal in his red polo shirt and baggy jeans—like someone who actually belonged in a hallway full of noise and movement.
Soobin, on the other hand, dressed in black, felt like he’d been wrapped in a trash bag and told to function like a person.
And yet, strangely enough, they didn’t look completely wrong together.
They climbed the stairs two at a time. On the top floor was a large computer room, and a drawing room tucked away at the end of the corridor—clearly neglected. The usual explosion of color from posters, signs, and student announcements was missing here. The walls felt emptier, colder, like the floor had been forgotten on purpose.
“Unfortunately, we don’t really have much in terms of art supplies… the school gets a pretty low grade in arts and crafts,” Taehyun explained quickly as they walked. “They’ll probably use overcrowding as an excuse to open another classroom up here.”
He glanced back at Soobin as he spoke.
“You? Do you like painting?”
He froze at the unexpected question.
Just the fact that she was talking to him like that made something tighten in his chest. Casual curiosity, like he was someone worth knowing. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to.
No one really tried to get to know him. Not like this.
“Sometimes.”
He answered briefly, eyes flicking away as he glanced around the corridor instead of meeting hers.
Taehyun, noticing the tension without making it a thing, turned back toward the stairs and started down again. No comments. No lingering.
They were heading back to the ground floor now.
Soobin couldn’t remember ever moving this much in a single day.
Soobin guessed that only the cafeteria and the gym were left.
They stepped into the empty cafeteria, greeted by the heavy red double doors swinging slightly behind them.
“There’s not much to explain here,” Taehyun said casually. “Just don’t sit at the third table by the wall. It’s in point five of my guide.”
Like it was the most normal rule in the world.
To be honest, the rule only made Soobin more curious.
“Why?” he asked.
Taehyun turned to Soobin at the question and lowered his voice anyway, like the empty cafeteria might suddenly start eavesdropping.
“That table belongs to Oliver and his gang. And trust me, they’re the kind of people you don’t want to mess with. Seriously.”
“A gang?”
Get out of here.
The thought almost slipped out as a laugh.
School gangs. In 2005. In a cafeteria that smelled like cheap detergent and overcooked pasta.
What were they going to do, really? Pour chocolate milk over someone’s head? Stage dramatic table-top performances for dominance?
It felt absurd. Like a threat that didn’t know it was supposed to be scary.
Once the cafeteria tour was over, they set off again.
As they walked down the corridor, music started bleeding through the walls—louder now, sharper, bouncing off the lockers and into his skull like it had nowhere else to go. A fast, chaotic remix, too bright for the early morning haze still stuck in his head.
He winced slightly.
The person beside him noticed immediately, adjusting their pace without saying anything and guiding him.
“This is the gym. The music you’re hearing is from the cheerleaders’ practice. The first break on the first day is long, so we can watch for a bit before the bell rings.”
Soobin barely had time to process the words before Taehyun’s tone gave him away. It wasn’t really a suggestion meant for both of them.
It was for him.
The closer they got to the gym, the brighter Taehyun’s expression became, like he’d been waiting for this part of the tour all along. His eyes practically lit up, fixed on the sounds spilling through the doors.
Soobin realized, with a tired kind of clarity, that the “we can watch” wasn’t an invitation.
It was a plan Taehyun had already made for himself.
I guess someone’s lover was here, huh?
They entered through the large gate, already left open. Without stopping, they made their way up to the stands and sat somewhere in the middle. From there, they had a clear view of everything.
They had arrived just in time for the break. They would have to wait a little longer to see the choreography.
As the cheerleaders scattered toward different corners of the gym, two figures immediately caught his attention.
One had pink hair, the other soft brown. Both looked Asian. They sit with their legs slightly apart, stretching and talking casually. The pink-haired one was clearly in the middle of a story, animated and expressive, while the other listened, occasionally glancing at his reflection in a nearby mirror to fix his hair.
Their blue-and-white pleated skirts fell neatly over their stance, paired with matching sleeveless crop tops in the same colors.
And-
They were both boys.
Second and-
he thought Taehyun, who was sitting next to him, might be gay.
He’d only been here for about three minutes, and in those three minutes, he couldn’t take his eyes off the pink-haired boy. You could even say he was practically staring—too focused for his own good.
As if sensing they were being watched, the brown-haired boy with the cherry-shaped hair clip locked eyes with Soobin. He frowned slightly, still staring as if trying to place him.
Before either of them could make sense of it, the moment was broken by a sharp whistle cutting through the gym.
He stood up, adjusted the short shorts beneath his skirt, and walked back toward his group with his friend.
“Ahhh! The new uniforms look so good on him… My heart!”
When Taehyun rested his head on Soobin’s shoulder, Soobin flinched and shoved him away with his hand.
Finally, he spoke.
“Are there male cheerleaders at this school too?”
Taehyun looked at Soobin like he’d just asked something completely out of this world.
“What do you mean? Didn’t you guys have any? What a loss… Tch…”
With Taehyun’s dramatic reaction, Soobin leaned back slightly. Strangely enough, he agreed. Not knowing this existed earlier did feel like a kind of loss.
His old school had been conservative, but for Soobin, action didn’t really have a gender attached to it. He didn’t care what anyone chose to do—just that they did it.
The whistle blew again. The team snapped into position.
And just like that, his new life at this school began.
Welcome to the youth report of lonely emo Soobin and his rising star Beomgyu!