Chapter Text
senior year, finally after 11 long years taesan is finally starting to see the tail end of his special circle of hell. one last year then i can finally be off to harvard, duke, maybe even brown; anywhere but here.
its odd to think that despite knowing majority of his classmates since the days when they had mandatory nap times and everyone would hold hands and skip around in circles together, every single year it feels like hes walking in to the thunder dome.
insults, slurs, and anything of the like being tossed around instead of hellos and obscene displays of public affection at each corner. fights and bullying are no exception either, as he stalks the halls so many "nerds" and "geeks" are being pushed around.
"hey are you okay" he says as someone topples down right im front of him
"ugh, get away nerd!"
well jeez nevermind then. apparently he is no better then the other "nerds" on the school wide hit list.
stuck in his dreams of the near future, of freedom from public school hell and safe in the ivy leagues, he ended up bumping in to none other than sung hanbin, your typical jock-type bully who seems to only concern himself with who's lunch he plans to ruin next.
"shit watch where you're going bitch"
"uhh sorry?"
god i can't wait to be out of here. he thought to himself, all but running away from hanbin.
taesan managed to find his best friend since diapers, kim woonhak.
"hey woonhak! are we still down for infinite challenge binge night?"
"of course! you have to bring popcorn though."
"at this point we should have every episode memorized, huh?"
"well yeah but what can i say? i love a good laugh"
from behind woonhak taesan spots none other than lee sohee, hanbin's best and "smartest" friend smart in a sense of being the tallest dwarf on the football team.
"KIM WOONHAK HEY GOOD BUDDY"
sohee comes in yelling as he smacks woonhak's lunch tray straight out of the poor boy's hands
at this point taesan was livid, day one and these asses are picking right back up where they left off in junior year
"hey pick that up right now"
"uhm...who are you and why are you talking to me?"
"god i've been going to the same school as you for the past 11 years, i mean i know your not the brightest but this is an all time low sohee"
"uh huh...hey you have a pimple right there"
and off sohee saunters, as if he just landed the best insult to grace our green earth.
agh i fucked up. i just wanted to fly under the radar this is not what i had in mind.
"woah taesan did you just do that? i've never seen you talk like that to anyone."
woonhak, this kid all bright eyed and bushy tailed - he's always been the definition of childhood innocence, even as a high school senior he never fails to amaze me with his sweetness
"yeah i dont know what came over me, i guess im just really hitting my breaking point after all these years." taesan said, pushing a smile onto his face "you know what im gonna go wash up before class. catch you later?"
"see you!"
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taesan has been sitting in a bathroom stall for about 30 minutes now. class has probably started but all he can do is just sit and stare at the stall door.
he didnt really have much to worry about class-wise, after all it was the first day and he was the one of the top students. doesnt really say much though considering where i go.
so he just made himself a fake hall pass and spent his ever so precious time in the smelly bathroom stall where he could find some semblance of peace.
that was until the three harbingers of doom walked in; park sungho, myung jaehyun, and lee riwoo. those 3 are what you would consider gods at our school, floating above the rest, untouched.
lee riwoo is the head of the dance team, his dad is totally loaded.
myung jaehyun, runs the yearbook and morning announcements. loud personality and an even louder voice.
and then park sungho, he leads their little clique. he is a mythic bitch.
i would give anything to be like that, even just for a day.
suddenly the stall door next to him slams open and the nauseating sound of someone vomiting fills the room.
"grow up jaehyun, bulimia is so last year"
"yeah jae.. maybe you should see a doctor"
"maybe your right riwoo, i probably sho- blehh"
"ugh gross"
of course, just as taesan was about to make a mad dash out of the bathroom to avoid the trio, the school's guidance counselor, ms flemming, decided to walk in
"ah, sungho and riwoo-"
"blehhh"
"and jaehyun. i dont see a hall pass anywhere and you definitely arent on your way to class. you lot are getting a weeks detention"
this might be my chance... maybe i can get an in. mustering up all his courage, he quickly scribbled down three more names on his pseudo hall pass and opened his stall
"uhm actually ms flemming all of us are out on a hall pass. yearbook committee"
"well...hmm, i see your all listed. get to class"
shit that was nerve wracking
taesan glanced around at the new situation he put himself in as sungho narrowed his eyes at him
"good forgery. exactly who are you?"
"uh taesan - han taesan. wait uhm.. before you leave can you do me a favor? let me sit with you at lunch, it only has to be for a day, you dont even have to talk to me. if people think you can tolerate me they'll leave me alone"
"before you answer, i can also do report cards, permission slips, and absence notes"
sungho doesn’t answer him right away. he just looks at him. up and down. like he’s trying to decide if he's a person or just some trash that managed to crawl out of the dumpster.
“sit with us? looking like that? no.”
riwoo nearly drops his phone, he’s laughing so hard.
“he’s giving unpaid math tutor. like… in a bad way.”
jaehyun spits in the sink, wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
“we can’t let him follow us around like this. it’d be brand suicide.”
before taesan can even move, sungho’s got his backpack off his shoulder and dumped across the counter. riwoo digs through it like a raccoon, tossing his notebooks on the floor.
“tabs. color-coded. oh my god, do you file your feelings too?”
“jesus christ,” jaehyun mutters, holding up a pencil case. “mechanical pencils. he’s literally a virgin.”
he just stands there frozen while sungho starts tugging at his shirt like he's some mannequin.
“buttoned all the way up? absolutely not.” he yanks two buttons open before a thought can even cross taesan's mind.
“better. still sad, but better.”
riwoo, suddenly has both hands in his hair. “this,” he says, fluffing it up. “this is wilted lettuce. we’re aiming for tortured poet. or at least, something tragic chic.” he spits in his palm kill me now and slicks his bangs back.
he steps back like he’s just solved climate change.
“wow. he’s not that bad actually.”
jaehyun shoves taesan's glasses back into his hands, lenses covered in fingerprints.
“don’t wear them, you look like you’re about to grade someone’s essay. you are not cute enough for that.”
sungho leans back against the sink, arms crossed, and smirks at him like he's already lost a game he never agreed to play.
“alright, han taesan. lets go. you wanted lunch, lets get lunch. you get one shot. embarrass us and you’re dead.”
then they’re gone. the door swings shut behind them, leaving taesan trailing after them like some puppy with a half-unbuttoned shirt, hair smelling faintly of riwoo’s cologne, and notebooks still laying on the floor of the bathroom.
i should feel humiliated. i do.
but god help me, i also feel… chosen.
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lunchtime at school is a bloody minefield . everyone’s got their territories carved out -- jocks in the middle like they’re displaying their colorful feathers trying to mate, theater kids screaming show tunes at each other near the back, and the rest of us just trying not to spill milk on ourselves.
usually taesan takes his tray and makes a beeline for the far corner, where woonhak usually waits. head down and invisible.
but today he doesnt even get that chance.
the holy trinity of sungho, riwoo, and jaehyun sweep into the cafeteria like they own it. which, unfortunately, they do. voices dip, heads turn, the air shifts. it’s like watching lions stroll into a petting zoo, searching for their prey.
and then sungho looks at him. actually looks. one finger crooked in his direction.
riwoo pats the seat beside him like he’s calling a dog. jaehyun smirks and goes, loud enough for the whole room to hear,
“make way for our new charity project.”
taesan freezes. his tray rattling in his hands. every single eye in this cafeteria is on him, drilling into his skull.
but he goes. of course he goes. god help me what have i gotten myself in to. as whispers start before he so much as take a step forward, let alone sit down.
“is that han taesan?”
“no way he’s with them.”
“guess even losers can get adopted.”
he drops into the seat, stiff as a corpse.
sungho slides his drink toward him without looking and mutters, “don’t choke.”
comforting
taesan can't help but wait for the punchline. for them to push him out of the chair, dump his food on his head, laugh about it until graduation.
but instead jaehyun leans in, grinning like a shark. “maybe you should say hello to your little buddy over there.” he tilts his head toward woonhak, who’s staring at him from across the room like he's just sprouted a second head.
this is it. the test.
“wha-what do you mean?”
stammering, trying to force confidence out but all he can muster is a voice equivalent to a moody teenage boy saying "its not just a phase mom".
sungho slips a folded piece of notebook paper across the table. “you’re gonna write this for us. just a quick little note.”
riwoo grins, sharp canines gleaming in the cafeteria light. “think of it as… an assignment. you’re good at assignments, right?”
he picks up the paper. it’s blank, except for a signature scrawled at the bottom: hanbin.
jaehyun leans in, voice low. “we need you to forge a note, a little party invite. make it look like hanbin wrote it.”
“why?” i feel like vomitting
“we’re inviting your little buddy over there to a party,” sungho explains casually, like it’s nothing.
riwoo tilts his head“it’s just a social experiment, i heard that he used to have a crush on hanbin. we just want to him freak out when he gets the invite.”
taesan just stares, at them, at the paper. his hands glued to the cafeteria table. “you’re… asking me to trick him. i can't. i won't”
"are we gonna have a problem?" sungho’s eyes narrow, not exactly with anger but not with amusement either, rather something darker in between the two. "listen, i'm feeling nice so i'll give you a second chance."
“oh, come on,” riwoo drawls, leaning back in his chair. “you’re not actually scared of delivering a note, are you? that would be hilarious.”
fuck.
its like being trapped in a box. a small cardboard box filled with rabid beasts. it was fine when he was flying somewhat under the radar, he could fuck something up and no one had to know. now, hes trapped in the spotlight with only one path forward. being unknown sucked, but if he said no to park sungho, his life might as well be over, its worse than social suicide.
glancing over jaehyun's shoulder he sees woonhak. hes shifting in his seat, fingers drumming against the table like a countdown. he want to warn him, scream, run away, anything but do what they’re asking.
but sungho leans forward, voice suddenly sharp, almost intimate. “think about it. if you don’t… you’ll regret it. we'll make sure of it.”
the cafeteria feels smaller, the air thicker. he doesnt want to be part of this. but he also knows better than to say no.
fuck
slowly, taesan picks up the pen. trying to mimic hanbin's handwriting, slow and careful. his heart is pounding so hard hes sure the whole table, no, the whole cafeteria, can hear it.
riwoo leans back, watching him like a hawk.
“perfect. now fold it up, put it in your pocket, and deliver it. we’ll handle the rest.”
he nods, almost in a trance. stomach twisting into knots as he walks toward woonhak, his pocket burning with the tiny folded deception.
what have i gotten myself into?
"uhm hey woonhak"
"taesan! i have so many questions...how exactly did you end up with those three? and why does it seem like they actually like you?"
"oh well its a long story but we're all friends now. actually, they invited me to a party later and uh..."
my vision is spinning, i feel sick. why am i doing this? why woonhak? shit i dont know what to do. i cant back out now, can i?
"uh what?" woonhak questions, eyes bright and sparkling. all he can do is close his eyes and shove forward the paper. the paper of deception, of lies.
"here. its from hanbin. i gotta go."
taesan nearly runs straight into someone when he broke out into a half sprint across the cafeteria and back to the trio.
"shoot sorry"
he says, brushing down his hair and trying to calm his nerves.
when he looks up he sees maybe the most beautiful man hes ever seen. brown hair, black jacket, and maybe the most beautiful and large eyes ever.
"you're fine. you're looking a little under the weather though? is it the cold going around or repercussions of a moral compass going haywire? a little bit of advice, act confident, it'll get them off your back quicker."
"i dont need your advice... wait what?"
all the mystery man does is smirk, or at least try to but his smile is all dimples, shining brightly like the sun.
before he gets a chance for the pretty boy's name or how exactly he knows whats going on in his head, hes gone.
odd.
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he makes his way back to the table, pulse rattling in his throat like a warning bell.
taesan keeps his steps steady, shoulders squared, like hes been doing this his whole life. like he belongs here. the pretty boy's advice echoing in the back of taesan's head.
sungho doesn’t even look up when he sits down, just flicks his eyes toward him.
“that was fast. didn’t chicken out, did you?”
he lets out a short, careful laugh, hoping it hides the sweat prickling at the back of his neck.
“please. he practically ripped it out of my hand.”
riwoo claps his hands once, delighted.
“our little scribe actually pulled it off! how cute.” he leans in, voice sharp enough to nick skin. “what did he look like? tell me he turned red or better yet, did he nearly faint?”
a shrug, casual. hiding the fact that his stomach is a washing machine, tumbling, tumbling.
“he was… surprised. that’s all.”
“lame,” jaehyun drawls, but he’s grinning like he’s just been handed front-row tickets to a bloodbath. “don’t worry. the real fun starts later.”
“later?” taesan repeats, keeping his tone level, curious. like hes in on it. like hes not choking on dread.
sungho finally meets his eyes, his smirk tugging slow and deliberate.
“yeah, taesan. did you think this was a one-off? nah. that was just warm-up.”
riwoo flips his phone camera toward me. “smile, charity case. you’ve just been promoted from background character to errand boy. congratulations.”
taesan gives him a half-smile, practiced, lazy. like he couldn’t care less. meanwhile, his heart is trying to punch a hole straight through his ribs.
sungho watches him for a beat too long, like he’s weighing him against something in his head. then he leans back, satisfied.
“good boy.”
the cafeteria continues to roar around us, but taesan can’t hear anything over the rush of his own blood.