Love Me Whenever 8/?
Title: Love Me Whenever 8/?
Author: 23elevens
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 6,695
Characters: Minho/Key, Luna/Jinki, bff!Jongtaekey
Genre: All kinds.
Summary: It shouldn't be right for a grown man of twenty-three to fall in love with a stripper that's a whole six years younger than him. But that's exactly what Minho does, and he will protect the boy at all costs.
I'll call you after school today. Enjoy yourself and take care, arasso?"
"Yeah, whatever. Feed Coco before you go to work. Bye baby."
"I've fed her already. Annyeong jagiya. Text me if you need anything."
Kibum shoves his phone into his pocket and sighs heavily, staring with poorly-disguised annoyance at the towering green-painted gates in front of him. Beyond them lies Young Shin High, his soon-to-be second home for two years. He takes one last longing glance behind him at the carefree buses trundling up and down the busy road, then sucks in a deep breath and takes his first steps into the premises.
From the moment he enters the school, he feels all eyes on him, as well as the curious fingers pointed semi-discreetly at him as he moves down the hall, head held high. He hears the typical hushed whispers directed at new kids - in other words, him - and suppresses the urge to randomly turn around and snap at the nearest gossipmonger he sees. However, as Minho's voice floats into his mind, he forces himself to keep calm and continue on his way to the office without sparing so much a glance towards the observing student body. He doesn't like the way he's keeping his dissatisfaction inside of him, but as Minho has reiterated a dozen times, first impressions do count. He carelessly shrugs away the last of the creeping fingers, and pushes lightly at the glass doors of the office. He fleetingly decides not to give too much of a damn about what anyone thought about him around here; word was probably already spreading about the ice-cold kid with the bitchy personality or whatever.
"Your name?" a pair of crinkly eyes peer up at him from behind gold-rimmed glasses.
"Kibum. Kim Kibum."
The ahjumma reaches over to her right and rifles through a stack of papers. She takes awhile to find what she's looking for, but eventually holds out a single sheet to Kibum after scanning through it.
"Kim Kibum, seventeen-plus, new student." She looks up for confirmation, a friendly smile lingering at the peak of her lips.
"Yes."
"Well then.. Fill this up."
"What, here?" Kibum asks stupidly.
"Where else?" laughs the ahjumma, handing him a ballpoint pen. Kibum blushes, and bends over the counter slightly to fill in his particulars. For awhile, only the quiet whirring of the AC and the mild scratch of his pen is heard.
"Done," announces the boy, handing nth pen and paper back to her. He shifts uncomfortably on the spot as the woman looks through his paper, occasionally glancing up to appraise him.
It is another two minutes before she looks around her desk for another two sheets of paper to hand to him.
"The first is your time-table, and on the back of it is a rough map on where your classes are. The second piece, I want you to pass it to all the teachers you meet today and have them sign it, then return it to me by the end of today. Any questions?"
"Nope." Kibum tries his best not to groan aloud at the troublesome task ahead.
"See you later, Kibum. I hope you enjoy your first day here." The ahjumma gives him another warm smile, and he feels some of his discomfort fade away, despite knowing how much his thoughts differ from her statement. He gives her a cheery smile of his own, and folds the papers in his hand into twos.
"Thank you, ahjumma. I'll be going now."
"You're welcome, dear. But you might want to fix your attire-" the door swishes shut again before the office lady can finish her sentence.
Kibum leans against a wall whilst figuring out the map, trailing a pointer finger down the page slowly as he looks for his first class of the day. Once having roughly memorized his route, he puts them into his bag (because it would deem him too much of an idiot should he walk around with his nose buried in it) and sets off at a leisurely pace.
The hallways are still filled with students milling about before class time, gathering in pairs or small groups to chatter mindlessly. Heads turn again as Kibum strolls past, and he thinks he hears a few girls squeal "He's so pretty!" The blonde shivers minutely at the attention, but otherwise keeps a straight face. However, as he angles his head slightly to the left, he spies a large group of seniors (were they even?) giving him the once-over with odd expressions on their faces. Kibum turns away and makes a face at the floor before quickening his steps and turning sharply into another hallway, which was surprisingly empty.
Kibum hums wordlessly to "Blow" by Kesha as he slows down upon meeting a row of notice boards. His hands automatically go up to his black-tipped bangs (he's had them done before coming to school this year, of course), fixing each strand with care through the glass reflection whilst giving a cursory glance at the many notices posted up on the green foam. He hadn't noticed that there were so many after-school activities around here. He runs a mini commentary by himself as he puts the last bit of his hair in place. "The water-ski team looks good, but it's not actually my type. Ew, no way am I running- Hey, the dance team looks like fu-"
"The cheerleading team's just made for you, honey." Kibum is cut off by a deep, menacing rumble, and he feels himself being tugged harshly backward by his bag strap. He let's out a small squeak of surprise, and finds landing unceremoniously on the floor, butt-first.
The teen looks up, a little disoriented and more than a tad annoyed. He finds the fluorescent lights of the hallway partly obscured by a group of heads belonging to both sexes, looking down at him with similar faces of unwelcome. He instinctively knows he's in for trouble, and wills his heart to stop hammering like a woodpecker on crack and glares at them from his spot on the floor.
"What the hell do you people want?" Still keeping his eyes trained on them, he feels about for his pack and pulls it closer to him, standing up unsteadily. He is mildly surprised that nobody has tried to push him back on the ground again.
"Ooh, feisty," sniffs a stick-thin brunette who's had herself draped around that big guy who had laid the first hand on Kibum.
Kibum cocks his head slightly and turns to roll his eyes at the girl, a small smirk tucked in the middle of his dimples. "Problem, miss?"
The blonde doesn't see the next shove coming; it's a different guy who does it this time, a shorter, stockier one, and the crowd parts slightly to allow Kibum to be slammed toward the notice boards. The glass shivers violently as the slight boy meets its surface.
"Careful now, Young-Bae," cautions his friend, a cool head of jet-black who leans against the opposite wall, giving Kibum an unimpressed once-over.
"It wouldn't break so easily," cuts in the same brunette, sniggering behind her blasted fingers to another girl amongst them. Kibum's feels that it's too hot in here, despite the ice-cold fear lapping around at his calves.
"I asked," Kibum calls over the babble of discussion, "if you had a problem with me, miss. And you, I'd appreciate if you get your filthy paws off me." With a swift pull of his own collar, Kibum frees himself from his attacker- Young-Bae, he's called- and ducks under his muscular arm into the open space, arranging his uniform so it sits nicely across his slim shoulders.
"You've got some nerve-" Young-Bae starts, stalking toward him with a fiery light in his eyes.
"Hold back a little, 'Bae. I want to talk to him." The conversation among the little gang ceases, and it parts once again to let a sinewy blonde through. Kibum notes that his new challenger has his eyes ringed terribly with kohl, and stores the image away as a provocation tool, if needed.
"I see that you're the head of this.. pack," starts Kibum, earning several hisses and shrieks of outrage. The other blonde holds up his hand for silence. "And to whom do I owe this pleasure of wasting my time to? After all, I have a class to attend." He taps his foot against the linoleum rhythmically, just to annoy them.
"You can call me Dongwoo." Kibum gives a visible jerk, and immediately pinches his own arm for his stupidity; Dongwoo, not Dongwoon.
"You know me?" The other's lips curl into a visible snort.
Kibum ignores his question. "What do you and your pack want with me, Dongwoo-ssi?"
"Formalities first, I think. Your name?"
"Kibum," drawls out the youngster. Truth be told, he isn't liking how this Dongwoo is sneering at him, and how his 'people' were slowly closing in on him again, inch by inch.
"Well then, Kibum-ah, where are you from? Why are you here?"
"Not by any choice of mine to come down here, and I believe discretion of my own location is advised, no?" Kibum slides a hand slowly into his pocket, feeling about for his iPhone and curling his fingers around the rectangular device.
His arm is dragged roughly out of his pocket, and in a flash he finds himself pinned against the cream walls, cheek pressed on its glossy surface. Kibum holds in a yell of pain as his arm is twisted unnaturally behind his back and held there. Someone rids him of his bag.
"Wherever that mouth of yours has come from, Kibum-ah, it isn't allowed to shoot off like that around here, not with us around, at least."
"Just say what you need to, fucking prick. I have places to go to unlike you uncivilized shithea-" Kibum unwillingly lets the bubbling shout escape his throat as his arm is pulled even further back, and his head is shoved harder into the wall.
"I said-" Dongwoo's hot breath channels though his ear, doing nothing to soothe the thundering of his heart, "None of your cheek here, Kibum-ah."
"So just- tell me.. What y-you want," pants the schoolboy, tear ducts stinging as he tries valiantly to swallow back the waterworks. It wasn't because he was a crybaby; it really hurt like a bitch.
Dongwoo releases his hold slightly, flipping the boy over to face him and the rest of the group before dropping his hand from Kibum's now-wrinkled collar. He wipes his palms down the front of his pants carelessly and gestures with a tilt of his head for Young-Bae and the other friend to take over his job of holding Kibum captive. Kibum resists the urge to roll his eyes at the senior's ridiculousness - wasn't it at least a ratio of seven to one? What was this idiot afraid of?
"To set the ball rolling, Kibum-ah.. Do you know who we are?"
"New student, so I know zilch. And would you kindly get your hands off me-" Kibum attempts to shake off the burly arms that ensnare his shoulders, but to no avail.
"Leave him be, you two. Well, Kibum-ah, then you should be glad that you get to hear about who we are and what we do around here from our very mouths."
"I'm pretty sure it's much more exciting than saving the world, but do carry on." Kibum's sarcasm is unconsciously sneaking itself back into his voice, and he watches with mild satisfaction at the clenching of Dongwoo's jaw.
"You think you're so clever to talk him like that," snaps the girl, tossing her hair at him and glaring from under her heavily-painted skin. Kibum sighs exasperatedly.
"Miss, I asked for your problem more than once. If you aren't gonna say anything, then stop butting in." The brunette flushes scarlet and takes a step forward, arm raised.
"Sica, control yourself." Dongwoo sounds out.
"But-"
"Be quiet, lady." Kibum hides a snigger with a quick bend of his head, thankful that his bangs fall over his eyes. From beneath his eyelashes, he witnesses 'Sica' slap at Dongwoo's bicep. Bitch.
"You know, Kibum-ah, your attitude isn't going to get you anywhere around here. I've seen the way you walk and talk the minute you've stepped into his place, and I don't like it one bit. Do you really think you own this place with all the attention that you get?" Dongwoo's voice dips a few tones lower and rougher, and suddenly the hallway feels cooler than it ever was to Kibum. The seventeen-year-old attempts at another face of carelessness, but casts his eyes around the place, desperately searching for an escape. Calling Minho isn't exactly an option right now, what with Young-Bae eyeing his pocket. He eventually discovers a Weak Spot in the little circle of antagonists, and shifts carefully toward it, locking eyes with Dongwoo.
"It's not my fault if the student body finds me interesting to look at, you know. It happens." Kibum shrugs, picking at his pinky uninterestedly.
Dongwoo lets out a scathing guffaw, and Kibum immediately raised a perfectly-arched eyebrow in his direction. "Can I help you?"
"You seriously think you're all that. First off, look at how alone you are, down here with us." the boy pauses, allowing the crowd to laugh maniacally along with him. "Second, I'll have to disappoint you with the fact that all eight of us," he gestures at his little group, "don't like kids who look like dirty fags and are girlier than most girls. That's you." he snaps his fingers, pointing them at Kibum in a mock-gun posture. "Thirdly, you clearly don't know what you're wearing is plain asking for trouble. Look at you; colored bands all around your wrists, pink high-tops and even a striped tank under that shirt of yours. What are you, a goddamn Christmas tree from last year?"
If there was one thing Kibum hated the most, it would be complete morons with no fashion sense critiquing on his choice of wear. He lets the next string of words loose in a wave of ugly indignance. "Oh Mighty-One, what I'm wearing is style that I'd like to call mine. Look at yourself," Kibum gestures at the glass panels, "That mop on your head. Did you not style at least half of it before you got out of the pot of wax this morning? Your uniform makes you blend in with everybody - not a good impression to make with the average new kid if I were you. Oh, and have I mentioned your eyes? Have you just started using eyeliner, or what? Because it just looks like black paint smeared over some five-year-old's face." Standing on his tip toes a little to peek at the brunette, he finished off, "You have to have severe brain damage to stay with this faux-Caucasian panda."
Before the Dongwoo can retort or even take a step forward, 'Sica' pushes past her group with silly little shoves, anger scrawled all over her face in a rich red. The Weak Spot parts open wider, Kibum sees his chance. He bolts, flipping 'Sica' to the floor with a well-aimed elbow to her hips.
The endless maze of hallways flashes past him in a blur as he roughly wings random turns about each corner, with the little gang hot on his heels, gushing out obscenities that made even his potty-mouth blush furiously. Kibum runs and runs and runs, stumbling occasionally over the uneven concrete in several desolate halls, lungs screaming for oxygen. He has all along never been the best at running, and as his heart threatens to give up in response to the extreme exertion, he starts to think that his first hour in Young-Shin high has started off like a bad sitcom.
Kibum is slowing down rapidly now, and the seniors are gaining on him, meter by meter. He jogs toward a spiraling stairwell, wearily knocking over a few cleaning necessities in a bid to halt his chasers momentarily. As he slips around the wall of the stairs, he feels a sudden pull on his wrist- what in the world-, and a pale hand flies towards Kibum's mouth to keep him from yelling in surprise as he is dragged into the hollow of the darkened stairwell.
The blonde struggles like a wild animal against his new captor initially, repeatedly beating on the other's chest as he is being leaned onto. He stills for a little after a few seconds though, as and his people have come around his hiding place, and 'Sica' is shouting shrilly at the males to weasel Kibum's ass out to her. Kibum involuntarily lets out a muffled giggle against his captor's palm - this was looking as if it came out of a bad high-school sitcom-slash-B-grade-action movie.
"You might wanna keep your mouth shut a little bit," comes a voice in Kibum's ear, and he falls silent, though still twisting around roughly to try and catch a glimpse of his captor. "Stop moving and come in deeper!" hisses the voice again, and the blonde feels himself getting dragged deeper into the shadows, navigating precariously between all of the knick-knacks of school supplies leaning on the wall hollow or otherwise sprawled out on the floor. The two sink to their knees and squat down behind an unstable bookshelf of sorts (Kibum by force), until the agitated screams of 'Sica' and her minions fade away into satisfying echoes.
Kibum immediately swings his skinny arms unseeingly at the other person the minute the pack of seniors leave the scene, and a muffled "ow!" sounds as the teen backhands something blunt. Oops. The hand is promptly removed from Kibum's face, and he gratefully inhales generous amounts of air before he pushes at his captor aggravatingly out into the light of the hallway, where he can see better.
The boy (he was a boy, right?) stands slightly hunched in front of Kibum, a hand pressed to his small face, staring at the other with a wounded expression in his almond doe-like eyes. Kibum flushes slightly; he must have hit his savior's nose while panicking.
"Well, um.. Thanks for- for helping me- you know, just now. A-are you, like, okay?" Kibum shifts his weight about from side to side, biting at his bottom lip whilst waiting for a response from the taller boy before him - he had straightened up now, though in a seemingly painstaking manner. Kibum gauged that he was probably up till the middle of the other male's forehead.
The other blonde answered, voice still muffled by his hand (what the hell was up with all the fake-Asian blondes in this school, anyway)?. "You crapped me up, I'll live." The boy reaches up with his free hand to tug his red beanie down further, pressing his long fringe closer to his face and obscuring what minimal features Kibum could still see.
"Mianhae," he mutters, taking slow steps towards the stranger. He feels really bad now, and part of him wants to take responsibility of his unfortunate injuries, as well as take a closer look at this similarly effeminate boy.
What he didn't expect was for the other to whip up his thin wrists all of a sudden, glancing at the white digital bound to his arm before almost-immediately attempting to dash off in a whole new direction, if not for Kibum closing his fingers around the boy's forearm. "Wait, I don't even get to know the name of-"
"I'm really late for class now, you should get going too. Stay away from Dongwoo and company!" he churns out hurriedly, wrenching his arm from Kibum and sprint-jogging his way up the spiral stairwell.
"But wa-" Kibum starts, but the stranger was already long gone. The boy stares after him, dumbfounded, and shakes his head. He's been wanting to ask him how in hell's name was he going to get to his next class.
~
"Late, I see.." a dry voice states, its squat owner barely looking up to see who had scuttled into class almost fifteen minutes late. Kibum slides to a stop and clicks the door shut, casting his eyes at the teacher warily. A slow heat creeps up his collarbones, spreading a film of pink around his milky skin as his ears pick up the muted murmurs of his fellow classmates. He catches a few discreet fingers pointed at him, and exhales huffily.
"Explanation, Miss-"
"Kim. Mr. Kim, actually." he feels like he wants to take an unrestrained bungee jump off the school building as his classmates let out a union of chortles. Seriously, couldn't this idiot tell that he was a guy? He was wearing pants, for heaven's sake.
"And your reason, Mr Kim.." The middle-aged guy has his lips set a thin line, waiting expectantly for answers.
"Kim Kibum. Sir," he reluctantly adds, catching the stern glint in the man's eye. "I was late because I kind of got-" how was he going to explain his encounter with Dongwoo? "I got a little lost looking around for this classroom. New student," finishes the adolescent lamely, digging through his bag for the two slips of paper that the office ahjumma had given to him earlier on.
"New student, eh? Then would you care to explain your scuffed uniform?" shoots back the man, beady eyes traveling up and down Kibum's body. The blonde bites the inside of his cheek in an attempt to keep a nasty retort inside his mouth. Curse that asshole for looking at him like that.
"I fell." he replies obstinately, hand going up to his hair. Someone sniggered.
The teacher searches his eyes suspiciously, but sinks back onto his rickety chair, arms folded on his slight paunch. "I do not tolerate lateness in my class, Mr. Kim, whatever the reason. I will let it slide this once. As it is home-room, go the front of the class and introduce yourself. The people here will be your form class for the next two years.. Unless you fall behind."
Unable to hold it in anymore, Kibum lets out a groan of despair. It really wasn't his day, was it? "Do I have t-" he was stopped upon meeting the irritating nod of the teacher's head.
Kibum shuffles up to the front, bag hanging loosely on one shoulder. He hikes it up a little bit before speaking. "Annyeonghasayo, I'm Kibum. Seventeen, going on eighteen-" he pauses, suddenly feeling the pressure of endless stares burning into him. "I like dancing in my free time.. I'm not a transfer student of- because of being home schooled prior to coming here.. I'm Korean-American, so- so, yeah." Kibum just wants to crawl into a hole and die right now. Nothing he says makes any fucking sense, everyone was probably going to think that he was an idiot-
"Kibum, you'll sit at the back, with Young-Joo. Now, are we done with all the cat-calling and utter fascination directed at Mr. Kim here? We have a class to carry out.."
"Hi," whispers a girl with umber curls tied to one side with a bright blue hair tie, sitting right beside his assigned seat. Kibum doesn't answer, and concentrates on re-doing the laces of his high-tops (someone had reached down to yank at them as he made his way to his seat, causing him to almost fall flat on his face). He's a little confused though; wasn't Young-Joo a guy's name or something? So what was this girl doing here? Or had he gotten the wrong seat? Kibum crossed and uncrossed his legs twice before bending down again to take out his school supplies.
"Hey. I'm Jung Young-Joo, but you can call me Nicole. I don't like my real name, it sounds like some random guy, y'know? You're Kibum, right?"
"I said it was that a little while ago, didn't I?" The teenager is cold, and he simply angles himself in the general direction of the girl, not bothering to raise his head properly as he shoots a frosty glare at her.
Nicole looked pretty hurt, with the almost-perfect curve of her lips bunched together slightly, teeth nibbling edge of it. Her heavily-done cat-eyes were narrowed, as if she was trying to figure something out about him.
"What?" Kibum isn't in the mood to play nice.
"You don't have to be so snappy with me, y'know. I wasn't any of those pabos that laughed at you, nor have I done anything to you like how Hoya has." she slides a pinky finger on top of Kibum's yellow pencil case to point out a buff guy who was sitting three or four rows away from them, raucously laughing away, despite Mr. Lee's (their homeroom teacher's name, Kibum found out) constant slapping of a wooden ruler on the well-used desk. Kibum recognized him as the one who tripped him. He abruptly feels sorry towards Nicole, and awkwardly pinches at his forearms.
"Sorry," he sighs, closing his eyes.
"It's okay," giggles Nicole, and Kibum opens his eyes in surprise to see her all airy again. "Let's be friends, no?"
"Uh," he mumbles, taken aback by her forwardness. "Oh.. Kay?"
Nicole leans in out of the blue, startling the youth with her intense expression. "W-what's w-"
"Have you always had gray eyes, or are you wearing contacts?"
"They've been gray since the day I was born."
"Oh," replies Nicole, leaning back into her seat just as abruptly as she had leant in to look at Kibum. "You're really pretty, you know that? Everyone's talking about you today, even in the girl's bathroom, I heard." The chatty girl's voice dips into a conversational whisper, and Kibum crans his neck a little closer to her to hear her better, albeit half-heartedly. "That girl over there- see, the one with the black fur jacket? Yeah, her- Krystal, she's gone a little gaga upon seeing you in the office today, and it's real hard to get the ice-princess agitated, especially over some boy. I overheard she likes your hair," laughs Nicole delightedly. "I like it too. I'm half-American too, by the way."
"Miss Jung, would you like to share your lovely conversation with Mr. Kim to the class?" Mr. Lee barks down the room, right hand brandishing his meter-rule.
"Gwenchana, Mr. Lee."
"And you," the man rounds on Kibum this time, who keeps his impending yawn at bay with tightly sealed lips. "Quite the chatterbox, aren't we? Would you like to sit at the front with Hoya, then? Sung-Jong can move over to sit with Young-Joo."
Kibum accidentally catches Hoya's look of utmost disgust, and clenches his fists as the other's purposely-obvious protest drifts into his ears. "No way am I sitting with fag-boy."
"You-" Kibum stops, feeling a squeeze on his knee from Nicole. She shakes her head minutely, eyes locked blindly to the board. "I'll control myself, Mr. Lee."
"You'd better," sniffs the teacher, just as Hoya turns around to give him the finger, mouthing the word "fag" at him. Kibum nods stiffly, and ignores Nicole's wide eyes as he uncaps a ballpoint pen and stabs the tip viciously into the metal zip of his pencil case.
~
"What's your next class?" Nicole catches up beside him after exchanging butterfly waves with her friends.
"Chemistry," says Kibum sourly, stalking out of the classroom without a backward glance.
"Aw, don't be like that. Those assholes will leave you alone in time to come." Nicole has a skip in her step, and she hooks her fingers onto a strap on Kibum's bag, towing herself lightly behind him.
"I swear I fucking hate this place, Nicole. The fuck have I done to anyone, seriously?" Kibum exhales noisily, roughly picking at his bangs while using his phone as a mirror.
"Kibum.."
"Ignore me, I'm just whining." The blonde looks over his shoulder wearily. It was only nine-thirty, and yet he felt more than ready for a good long sleep. "What class do you have, then?"
"Actually, math." She makes a face, sticking out a pink tongue at him. "But I'll walk you to class before I go to mine."
"Aren't I supposed to walk you instead, since I'm the-"
"Shut up and go!" Nicole places her hands on the small of his back and gently directs him down the hallways, oblivious to the tremendous amount of stares and comments she's getting.
"No, Nicole-ah, this isn't right-"
"Here!" The brunette says proudly, holding his shoulders and placing him just outside the door, as if he was a doll. "Bye pretty Kibum! I'll talk to you if we have class together again." She sped off, leaving the teen no chance to bid his goodbyes and to stammer awkward thank yous.
~
Chemistry, History and Math passes agonizingly slowly for Kibum, and for all of the three classes, Nicole was in none of them (he was starting to grow fond of her company). He does have a less eventful three consecutive periods though, aside from the usual spectators of his arrival as a new student and wonky introduction to his new classmates. He receives a handful of snide remarks, but nothing more than that. Kibum was slowly getting to know his way around the compound without the help of the map, which was good, but he really couldn't care less about school. He spends most of his available time (parts of classes he thought he understood) dozing off gently on his desk, occasionally rejecting some forward girl's offer to have lunch together, or go out, or anything at all.
Kibum's early for English. As he steps through the wooden sliding door, he feels the usual array of curious glances and mass whispers, all directed at him. He maneuvers down the front length of the classroom with grace, idly searching for Nicole. He doesn't see her amongst the faceless heads, but however spots a bright-eyed girl in a black fur coat- Krystal, he remembered- waving at him, gesturing for him to sit with her. He is taken aback, but smiles apologetically and heads over to the opposite side of class, where he occupies an empty pair of tables. He hangs his bag behind his seat by the straps, and reaches around to fumble for his phone, again ignoring his classmates. He is certain that he will be utterly bored out of his mind; English was something he was especially adept at, what with his fruitful past back there with all the foreign 'clients'. He pauses a little at Minho's picture on the front screen, admiring his boyfriend- okay, so he needed some eye-candy before class- before frowning and impatiently tapping out a message to him.
Sent: Babybum <3, 10:49AM
English lesson soon. Gna b fcking bored arnd here. I h8 sch baby, cn I come hme to you right nw? ._.
Received: Froggy <3, 10:52AM
Pay attention sweetie, and stop swearing so much. Wht happened? <3
Sent: Babybum <3, 10:52AM
Call me.
Received: Froggy <3, 10:53AM
Can't, sorry baby. Having a meeting right now. At home?
Sent: Babybum <3, 10:54AM
Gdi. You knw wht, forget it. Ttyl class is starting. Don't embarrass yourself thinking of me <3
Received: Froggy <3, 10:59AM
Sorry sweetie <3 I'll try not to, you shldn't too ;)
Kibum drops his phone back into the darkened depths of his bag just as a girlish voice sounds a few meters away from him.
"Can I sit here?"
"Yeah." Kibum replies without looking up, and shifts his chair semi-obnoxiously away from his new partner, having been trained the past few hours in the art of protecting himself from the numerous jealous fucks in this place.
"I haven't seen you around before.." Kibum is slightly irritated; the stranger is trying to make pointless conversation. He abruptly stands up and walks to the front desk, where his English teacher was placing her books and laptop on the table, to hand her his slip of paper for signing. He takes to her cheery smile- the first he's received from his new teachers all day- and wordlessly agrees to introduce himself to the rest of the class, including her.
"I'm Kim Kibum, a new student at Young Shin High," he drawls, having perfected his speech after several trials and errors this morning. "I'm seventeen plus, and I dance in my free time-" he pointedly ignores the wolf-calling and shouts "ballad, right?". "I'm Korean-American, so if anyone's wondering, I'm not wearing contacts. See you guys around." with a lazy wave, he holds his head high and walks back to his seat, only to be jerked to a stop with amazement.
His partner has honey-blonde hair reaching almost to his shoulders, falling around his small face in soft, flowing strands. His right wrist has a white digital wrapped around it, and that very same hand has its fingers perfectly poised around a black pen as it points its cap at Kibum in furrowed recognition. Stranger Boy.
"You!" Kibum can find no words to express himself as he takes in the sheer beauty of the other (almost as gorgeous as himself, his begrudging ego admits).
The boy's cool doe eyes light up upon seeing the slight upturned curve of Kibum's lips. "Trouble-on-the-first-day-of-school Boy?"
Kibum snorts lightly, and slides his legs into his seat, arms folded as he appraises the boy's milky white skin. He spies a reddish tinge around the boy's slightly-swollen button nose, and bows his head abashedly. "Sorry about that."
"Oh, I've had worse from you, so it's not biggie," he teases, a slim hand going up to prod experimentally at his nose. He winces, and Kibum laughs.
"What?"
"If it hurts, then stop touching it already." Kibum plays with the pockets of his school pants as he talks. He notes that the other boy has his altered much tighter than his was, so that it clings casually to every curve of his skinny legs whenever he moves.
"It was your fault in the first place, you know." His savior's eyes disappear into an inverted U, as if to remind Kibum that he's just kidding.
"Well, I didn't ask for any saving." The teen hums, flipping through his textbook lazily and shutting it again.
"You would have probably just died back there if I didn't pull you aside at the risk of my own safety!" answers the boy in disbelief, still prodding at his nose. "Ow ow ow-"
"Pabo-yah, fucking stop touching it then!" Kibum firmly leads away Stranger Boy's hand with his own, placing it on the table and putting pressure on it. He glares sternly at the boy as he attempts to use the other hand.
"Okay, okay, calm down." sighs the other, dropping his other hand in mock surrender. They sit together in silence for a little while as their teacher lectures the class on her expectations of the year ahead.
"Hey, can I ask you something?" Kibum finally opens his mouth to speak again, being bored out of his mind at the simple words the teacher was correcting the class on- spelling the word university, seriously?
"Go ahead. I can listen to both at the same time."
"Why'd you help me? Why aren't you like all the loser fucks in this place, anyway?" The honey-blonde turns slowly to meet Kibum's expectant, but wary eyes.
"Because.. I don't know, I figured you didn't need all this shit on your first day. I heard what a lot of people were saying about you, but don't worry too much, I used to get all that when I first came down here, too." Kibum is mildly surprised that the other boy can talk about his being picked on so easily like that, and scrunched up his face in confusion. The boy catches his expression, and laughs.
"You get used to it, then you don't have to care too much anymore."
"Oh." Why did he always have to come up with the stupidest answers? What if Stranger Boy thought he was an idiot or something?
Thankfully, his thought processes were broken by Stranger Boy, who suddenly decides to speak up again, though not looking at him. "Your name?"
"Jeez, after all you've claimed to hear from the student population, coupled with my self-introduction, you still don't know who I am?" Kibum replies, slightly snippy.
"I don't actually pay attention to details. So what do I call you, if I'm supposed to be your seat mate for the next year or so? And by the way, I'm not exactly good at Engli-"
"You talk a lot, you know that? Kibum." The youngster reaches into his bag once more, and brings out an unopened stick of grape Mentos. He peels apart the cheap paper packaging and pressed out two purple sweets, offering one to the boy under the table. "You want?"
His partner takes one uncertainly, and pops it into his mouth. "Thanks."
"Mm."
"Why haven't you asked for my name yet, Kibum?"
"Figured you'd tell me if you wanted to." Kibum stretches his arms skyward, blinking blearily at the high ceiling of the classroom. He earns a light push from the other boy. "Waeyo?" he squeaks, almost toppling off the chair.
"You talk really cold. Lighten up a little, huh?" The other blonde flashes a set of straight, white teeth, and Kibum is helplessly sucked into his beseeching stare.
"What d'you expect, if you've had a shitty time for almost every second you're attending your first day of school?"
"But you could be nice to me, I didn't go batshit mean on you at all. Remember, I saved you!" Kibum laughs for the second time in his face as the boy points proudly at himself with his thumbs.
"You win this round. You should be paying more attention since your English sucks, right?" Kibum lies on the table with his chin resting on his textbook, ready to doze off.
"What about you, hyung? You're my hyung, right? I'm sixteen, I skipped a grade."
"You talk too much!" Kibum groans in exasperation, kicking at his table leg. Beside him, the boy hums happily. "And for someone who claims to be smart enough to skip grades, they still suck at English."
The boy flushes. "That was really mean, hyung." He looks so hurt that Kibum can't help but pat at his long hair, marveling silently at its texture.
"Okay kiddo, mianhae."
The boy smiles again, and settles back comfortably into his seat. Kibum however finds another reason to groan when the he opens his mouth again, not half a minute later.
"Aren't you gonna ask me for my name?"
"Yah, don't push it."
"Hyung-ah, it's only basic courtesy!" his partner starts tapping his table rhythmically with his pen, earning them unwanted attention and an unsure smile from their teacher. Kibum pokes his side.
"Stop that."
"Till you ask me," he sing-songs, and this time he's the one to almost fall out of his seat with Kibum's pushing.
"Kibum-ssi, is something wrong?" Oops, busted. The teacher is about to walk up to them, mouth laced with worry. Kibum fought back a laugh.
"No, Mrs. Son. I was helping him get rid of a bug."
"If you're sure.." the class tittered after the teacher as she resumed her lesson.
"So what in fuck's world is your name, kiddo?"
The boy gasped quietly and looked at Kibum with large eyes. "You swear a lot, you know that right, hyung-ah?"
"Oh fine, I don't want to know anymore." Kibum pretends to switch off and concentrate really hard on the lesson, but his partner's constant nudges render him unable to.
"It's Taemin, Kibum-hyung. Lee Taemin. Pleased to meet you! Oh, and my nose hurts pretty much, you should-"
"Shut up Taemin-ah." Why was it that everyone who was nice to him today have the tendency to be a chatterbox?
A/N: HEY GUYS I’M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE POST, AND THIS ISN’T EVEN THE FULL CHAPTER BECAUSE I FIGURED IT WAS GETTING TOO LONG and I haven’t written it actually.. But yeah, I’m sorry. If I were to give a reason, I would be blaming it on having zero self-control when it comes to being hooked on reality TV shows (I’m currently watching WGM Adam Couple. Shoot me if you agree I’m slow :/) But yeah, I’ll try to write faster. I’m sorry if I kept anyone waiting! Oh, and by the way, can I ask if you guys think I write too boring-ly? As in, my chapters are really long but have nothing much going on, really, at least to me. Could I get honest feedback? Thank you! I’ll try my best to see you guys next Thursday with the second half of this chapter. <3
Author: 23elevens
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 6,695
Characters: Minho/Key, Luna/Jinki, bff!Jongtaekey
Genre: All kinds.
Summary: It shouldn't be right for a grown man of twenty-three to fall in love with a stripper that's a whole six years younger than him. But that's exactly what Minho does, and he will protect the boy at all costs.
I'll call you after school today. Enjoy yourself and take care, arasso?"
"Yeah, whatever. Feed Coco before you go to work. Bye baby."
"I've fed her already. Annyeong jagiya. Text me if you need anything."
Kibum shoves his phone into his pocket and sighs heavily, staring with poorly-disguised annoyance at the towering green-painted gates in front of him. Beyond them lies Young Shin High, his soon-to-be second home for two years. He takes one last longing glance behind him at the carefree buses trundling up and down the busy road, then sucks in a deep breath and takes his first steps into the premises.
From the moment he enters the school, he feels all eyes on him, as well as the curious fingers pointed semi-discreetly at him as he moves down the hall, head held high. He hears the typical hushed whispers directed at new kids - in other words, him - and suppresses the urge to randomly turn around and snap at the nearest gossipmonger he sees. However, as Minho's voice floats into his mind, he forces himself to keep calm and continue on his way to the office without sparing so much a glance towards the observing student body. He doesn't like the way he's keeping his dissatisfaction inside of him, but as Minho has reiterated a dozen times, first impressions do count. He carelessly shrugs away the last of the creeping fingers, and pushes lightly at the glass doors of the office. He fleetingly decides not to give too much of a damn about what anyone thought about him around here; word was probably already spreading about the ice-cold kid with the bitchy personality or whatever.
"Your name?" a pair of crinkly eyes peer up at him from behind gold-rimmed glasses.
"Kibum. Kim Kibum."
The ahjumma reaches over to her right and rifles through a stack of papers. She takes awhile to find what she's looking for, but eventually holds out a single sheet to Kibum after scanning through it.
"Kim Kibum, seventeen-plus, new student." She looks up for confirmation, a friendly smile lingering at the peak of her lips.
"Yes."
"Well then.. Fill this up."
"What, here?" Kibum asks stupidly.
"Where else?" laughs the ahjumma, handing him a ballpoint pen. Kibum blushes, and bends over the counter slightly to fill in his particulars. For awhile, only the quiet whirring of the AC and the mild scratch of his pen is heard.
"Done," announces the boy, handing nth pen and paper back to her. He shifts uncomfortably on the spot as the woman looks through his paper, occasionally glancing up to appraise him.
It is another two minutes before she looks around her desk for another two sheets of paper to hand to him.
"The first is your time-table, and on the back of it is a rough map on where your classes are. The second piece, I want you to pass it to all the teachers you meet today and have them sign it, then return it to me by the end of today. Any questions?"
"Nope." Kibum tries his best not to groan aloud at the troublesome task ahead.
"See you later, Kibum. I hope you enjoy your first day here." The ahjumma gives him another warm smile, and he feels some of his discomfort fade away, despite knowing how much his thoughts differ from her statement. He gives her a cheery smile of his own, and folds the papers in his hand into twos.
"Thank you, ahjumma. I'll be going now."
"You're welcome, dear. But you might want to fix your attire-" the door swishes shut again before the office lady can finish her sentence.
Kibum leans against a wall whilst figuring out the map, trailing a pointer finger down the page slowly as he looks for his first class of the day. Once having roughly memorized his route, he puts them into his bag (because it would deem him too much of an idiot should he walk around with his nose buried in it) and sets off at a leisurely pace.
The hallways are still filled with students milling about before class time, gathering in pairs or small groups to chatter mindlessly. Heads turn again as Kibum strolls past, and he thinks he hears a few girls squeal "He's so pretty!" The blonde shivers minutely at the attention, but otherwise keeps a straight face. However, as he angles his head slightly to the left, he spies a large group of seniors (were they even?) giving him the once-over with odd expressions on their faces. Kibum turns away and makes a face at the floor before quickening his steps and turning sharply into another hallway, which was surprisingly empty.
Kibum hums wordlessly to "Blow" by Kesha as he slows down upon meeting a row of notice boards. His hands automatically go up to his black-tipped bangs (he's had them done before coming to school this year, of course), fixing each strand with care through the glass reflection whilst giving a cursory glance at the many notices posted up on the green foam. He hadn't noticed that there were so many after-school activities around here. He runs a mini commentary by himself as he puts the last bit of his hair in place. "The water-ski team looks good, but it's not actually my type. Ew, no way am I running- Hey, the dance team looks like fu-"
"The cheerleading team's just made for you, honey." Kibum is cut off by a deep, menacing rumble, and he feels himself being tugged harshly backward by his bag strap. He let's out a small squeak of surprise, and finds landing unceremoniously on the floor, butt-first.
The teen looks up, a little disoriented and more than a tad annoyed. He finds the fluorescent lights of the hallway partly obscured by a group of heads belonging to both sexes, looking down at him with similar faces of unwelcome. He instinctively knows he's in for trouble, and wills his heart to stop hammering like a woodpecker on crack and glares at them from his spot on the floor.
"What the hell do you people want?" Still keeping his eyes trained on them, he feels about for his pack and pulls it closer to him, standing up unsteadily. He is mildly surprised that nobody has tried to push him back on the ground again.
"Ooh, feisty," sniffs a stick-thin brunette who's had herself draped around that big guy who had laid the first hand on Kibum.
Kibum cocks his head slightly and turns to roll his eyes at the girl, a small smirk tucked in the middle of his dimples. "Problem, miss?"
The blonde doesn't see the next shove coming; it's a different guy who does it this time, a shorter, stockier one, and the crowd parts slightly to allow Kibum to be slammed toward the notice boards. The glass shivers violently as the slight boy meets its surface.
"Careful now, Young-Bae," cautions his friend, a cool head of jet-black who leans against the opposite wall, giving Kibum an unimpressed once-over.
"It wouldn't break so easily," cuts in the same brunette, sniggering behind her blasted fingers to another girl amongst them. Kibum's feels that it's too hot in here, despite the ice-cold fear lapping around at his calves.
"I asked," Kibum calls over the babble of discussion, "if you had a problem with me, miss. And you, I'd appreciate if you get your filthy paws off me." With a swift pull of his own collar, Kibum frees himself from his attacker- Young-Bae, he's called- and ducks under his muscular arm into the open space, arranging his uniform so it sits nicely across his slim shoulders.
"You've got some nerve-" Young-Bae starts, stalking toward him with a fiery light in his eyes.
"Hold back a little, 'Bae. I want to talk to him." The conversation among the little gang ceases, and it parts once again to let a sinewy blonde through. Kibum notes that his new challenger has his eyes ringed terribly with kohl, and stores the image away as a provocation tool, if needed.
"I see that you're the head of this.. pack," starts Kibum, earning several hisses and shrieks of outrage. The other blonde holds up his hand for silence. "And to whom do I owe this pleasure of wasting my time to? After all, I have a class to attend." He taps his foot against the linoleum rhythmically, just to annoy them.
"You can call me Dongwoo." Kibum gives a visible jerk, and immediately pinches his own arm for his stupidity; Dongwoo, not Dongwoon.
"You know me?" The other's lips curl into a visible snort.
Kibum ignores his question. "What do you and your pack want with me, Dongwoo-ssi?"
"Formalities first, I think. Your name?"
"Kibum," drawls out the youngster. Truth be told, he isn't liking how this Dongwoo is sneering at him, and how his 'people' were slowly closing in on him again, inch by inch.
"Well then, Kibum-ah, where are you from? Why are you here?"
"Not by any choice of mine to come down here, and I believe discretion of my own location is advised, no?" Kibum slides a hand slowly into his pocket, feeling about for his iPhone and curling his fingers around the rectangular device.
His arm is dragged roughly out of his pocket, and in a flash he finds himself pinned against the cream walls, cheek pressed on its glossy surface. Kibum holds in a yell of pain as his arm is twisted unnaturally behind his back and held there. Someone rids him of his bag.
"Wherever that mouth of yours has come from, Kibum-ah, it isn't allowed to shoot off like that around here, not with us around, at least."
"Just say what you need to, fucking prick. I have places to go to unlike you uncivilized shithea-" Kibum unwillingly lets the bubbling shout escape his throat as his arm is pulled even further back, and his head is shoved harder into the wall.
"I said-" Dongwoo's hot breath channels though his ear, doing nothing to soothe the thundering of his heart, "None of your cheek here, Kibum-ah."
"So just- tell me.. What y-you want," pants the schoolboy, tear ducts stinging as he tries valiantly to swallow back the waterworks. It wasn't because he was a crybaby; it really hurt like a bitch.
Dongwoo releases his hold slightly, flipping the boy over to face him and the rest of the group before dropping his hand from Kibum's now-wrinkled collar. He wipes his palms down the front of his pants carelessly and gestures with a tilt of his head for Young-Bae and the other friend to take over his job of holding Kibum captive. Kibum resists the urge to roll his eyes at the senior's ridiculousness - wasn't it at least a ratio of seven to one? What was this idiot afraid of?
"To set the ball rolling, Kibum-ah.. Do you know who we are?"
"New student, so I know zilch. And would you kindly get your hands off me-" Kibum attempts to shake off the burly arms that ensnare his shoulders, but to no avail.
"Leave him be, you two. Well, Kibum-ah, then you should be glad that you get to hear about who we are and what we do around here from our very mouths."
"I'm pretty sure it's much more exciting than saving the world, but do carry on." Kibum's sarcasm is unconsciously sneaking itself back into his voice, and he watches with mild satisfaction at the clenching of Dongwoo's jaw.
"You think you're so clever to talk him like that," snaps the girl, tossing her hair at him and glaring from under her heavily-painted skin. Kibum sighs exasperatedly.
"Miss, I asked for your problem more than once. If you aren't gonna say anything, then stop butting in." The brunette flushes scarlet and takes a step forward, arm raised.
"Sica, control yourself." Dongwoo sounds out.
"But-"
"Be quiet, lady." Kibum hides a snigger with a quick bend of his head, thankful that his bangs fall over his eyes. From beneath his eyelashes, he witnesses 'Sica' slap at Dongwoo's bicep. Bitch.
"You know, Kibum-ah, your attitude isn't going to get you anywhere around here. I've seen the way you walk and talk the minute you've stepped into his place, and I don't like it one bit. Do you really think you own this place with all the attention that you get?" Dongwoo's voice dips a few tones lower and rougher, and suddenly the hallway feels cooler than it ever was to Kibum. The seventeen-year-old attempts at another face of carelessness, but casts his eyes around the place, desperately searching for an escape. Calling Minho isn't exactly an option right now, what with Young-Bae eyeing his pocket. He eventually discovers a Weak Spot in the little circle of antagonists, and shifts carefully toward it, locking eyes with Dongwoo.
"It's not my fault if the student body finds me interesting to look at, you know. It happens." Kibum shrugs, picking at his pinky uninterestedly.
Dongwoo lets out a scathing guffaw, and Kibum immediately raised a perfectly-arched eyebrow in his direction. "Can I help you?"
"You seriously think you're all that. First off, look at how alone you are, down here with us." the boy pauses, allowing the crowd to laugh maniacally along with him. "Second, I'll have to disappoint you with the fact that all eight of us," he gestures at his little group, "don't like kids who look like dirty fags and are girlier than most girls. That's you." he snaps his fingers, pointing them at Kibum in a mock-gun posture. "Thirdly, you clearly don't know what you're wearing is plain asking for trouble. Look at you; colored bands all around your wrists, pink high-tops and even a striped tank under that shirt of yours. What are you, a goddamn Christmas tree from last year?"
If there was one thing Kibum hated the most, it would be complete morons with no fashion sense critiquing on his choice of wear. He lets the next string of words loose in a wave of ugly indignance. "Oh Mighty-One, what I'm wearing is style that I'd like to call mine. Look at yourself," Kibum gestures at the glass panels, "That mop on your head. Did you not style at least half of it before you got out of the pot of wax this morning? Your uniform makes you blend in with everybody - not a good impression to make with the average new kid if I were you. Oh, and have I mentioned your eyes? Have you just started using eyeliner, or what? Because it just looks like black paint smeared over some five-year-old's face." Standing on his tip toes a little to peek at the brunette, he finished off, "You have to have severe brain damage to stay with this faux-Caucasian panda."
Before the Dongwoo can retort or even take a step forward, 'Sica' pushes past her group with silly little shoves, anger scrawled all over her face in a rich red. The Weak Spot parts open wider, Kibum sees his chance. He bolts, flipping 'Sica' to the floor with a well-aimed elbow to her hips.
The endless maze of hallways flashes past him in a blur as he roughly wings random turns about each corner, with the little gang hot on his heels, gushing out obscenities that made even his potty-mouth blush furiously. Kibum runs and runs and runs, stumbling occasionally over the uneven concrete in several desolate halls, lungs screaming for oxygen. He has all along never been the best at running, and as his heart threatens to give up in response to the extreme exertion, he starts to think that his first hour in Young-Shin high has started off like a bad sitcom.
Kibum is slowing down rapidly now, and the seniors are gaining on him, meter by meter. He jogs toward a spiraling stairwell, wearily knocking over a few cleaning necessities in a bid to halt his chasers momentarily. As he slips around the wall of the stairs, he feels a sudden pull on his wrist- what in the world-, and a pale hand flies towards Kibum's mouth to keep him from yelling in surprise as he is dragged into the hollow of the darkened stairwell.
The blonde struggles like a wild animal against his new captor initially, repeatedly beating on the other's chest as he is being leaned onto. He stills for a little after a few seconds though, as and his people have come around his hiding place, and 'Sica' is shouting shrilly at the males to weasel Kibum's ass out to her. Kibum involuntarily lets out a muffled giggle against his captor's palm - this was looking as if it came out of a bad high-school sitcom-slash-B-grade-action movie.
"You might wanna keep your mouth shut a little bit," comes a voice in Kibum's ear, and he falls silent, though still twisting around roughly to try and catch a glimpse of his captor. "Stop moving and come in deeper!" hisses the voice again, and the blonde feels himself getting dragged deeper into the shadows, navigating precariously between all of the knick-knacks of school supplies leaning on the wall hollow or otherwise sprawled out on the floor. The two sink to their knees and squat down behind an unstable bookshelf of sorts (Kibum by force), until the agitated screams of 'Sica' and her minions fade away into satisfying echoes.
Kibum immediately swings his skinny arms unseeingly at the other person the minute the pack of seniors leave the scene, and a muffled "ow!" sounds as the teen backhands something blunt. Oops. The hand is promptly removed from Kibum's face, and he gratefully inhales generous amounts of air before he pushes at his captor aggravatingly out into the light of the hallway, where he can see better.
The boy (he was a boy, right?) stands slightly hunched in front of Kibum, a hand pressed to his small face, staring at the other with a wounded expression in his almond doe-like eyes. Kibum flushes slightly; he must have hit his savior's nose while panicking.
"Well, um.. Thanks for- for helping me- you know, just now. A-are you, like, okay?" Kibum shifts his weight about from side to side, biting at his bottom lip whilst waiting for a response from the taller boy before him - he had straightened up now, though in a seemingly painstaking manner. Kibum gauged that he was probably up till the middle of the other male's forehead.
The other blonde answered, voice still muffled by his hand (what the hell was up with all the fake-Asian blondes in this school, anyway)?. "You crapped me up, I'll live." The boy reaches up with his free hand to tug his red beanie down further, pressing his long fringe closer to his face and obscuring what minimal features Kibum could still see.
"Mianhae," he mutters, taking slow steps towards the stranger. He feels really bad now, and part of him wants to take responsibility of his unfortunate injuries, as well as take a closer look at this similarly effeminate boy.
What he didn't expect was for the other to whip up his thin wrists all of a sudden, glancing at the white digital bound to his arm before almost-immediately attempting to dash off in a whole new direction, if not for Kibum closing his fingers around the boy's forearm. "Wait, I don't even get to know the name of-"
"I'm really late for class now, you should get going too. Stay away from Dongwoo and company!" he churns out hurriedly, wrenching his arm from Kibum and sprint-jogging his way up the spiral stairwell.
"But wa-" Kibum starts, but the stranger was already long gone. The boy stares after him, dumbfounded, and shakes his head. He's been wanting to ask him how in hell's name was he going to get to his next class.
~
"Late, I see.." a dry voice states, its squat owner barely looking up to see who had scuttled into class almost fifteen minutes late. Kibum slides to a stop and clicks the door shut, casting his eyes at the teacher warily. A slow heat creeps up his collarbones, spreading a film of pink around his milky skin as his ears pick up the muted murmurs of his fellow classmates. He catches a few discreet fingers pointed at him, and exhales huffily.
"Explanation, Miss-"
"Kim. Mr. Kim, actually." he feels like he wants to take an unrestrained bungee jump off the school building as his classmates let out a union of chortles. Seriously, couldn't this idiot tell that he was a guy? He was wearing pants, for heaven's sake.
"And your reason, Mr Kim.." The middle-aged guy has his lips set a thin line, waiting expectantly for answers.
"Kim Kibum. Sir," he reluctantly adds, catching the stern glint in the man's eye. "I was late because I kind of got-" how was he going to explain his encounter with Dongwoo? "I got a little lost looking around for this classroom. New student," finishes the adolescent lamely, digging through his bag for the two slips of paper that the office ahjumma had given to him earlier on.
"New student, eh? Then would you care to explain your scuffed uniform?" shoots back the man, beady eyes traveling up and down Kibum's body. The blonde bites the inside of his cheek in an attempt to keep a nasty retort inside his mouth. Curse that asshole for looking at him like that.
"I fell." he replies obstinately, hand going up to his hair. Someone sniggered.
The teacher searches his eyes suspiciously, but sinks back onto his rickety chair, arms folded on his slight paunch. "I do not tolerate lateness in my class, Mr. Kim, whatever the reason. I will let it slide this once. As it is home-room, go the front of the class and introduce yourself. The people here will be your form class for the next two years.. Unless you fall behind."
Unable to hold it in anymore, Kibum lets out a groan of despair. It really wasn't his day, was it? "Do I have t-" he was stopped upon meeting the irritating nod of the teacher's head.
Kibum shuffles up to the front, bag hanging loosely on one shoulder. He hikes it up a little bit before speaking. "Annyeonghasayo, I'm Kibum. Seventeen, going on eighteen-" he pauses, suddenly feeling the pressure of endless stares burning into him. "I like dancing in my free time.. I'm not a transfer student of- because of being home schooled prior to coming here.. I'm Korean-American, so- so, yeah." Kibum just wants to crawl into a hole and die right now. Nothing he says makes any fucking sense, everyone was probably going to think that he was an idiot-
"Kibum, you'll sit at the back, with Young-Joo. Now, are we done with all the cat-calling and utter fascination directed at Mr. Kim here? We have a class to carry out.."
"Hi," whispers a girl with umber curls tied to one side with a bright blue hair tie, sitting right beside his assigned seat. Kibum doesn't answer, and concentrates on re-doing the laces of his high-tops (someone had reached down to yank at them as he made his way to his seat, causing him to almost fall flat on his face). He's a little confused though; wasn't Young-Joo a guy's name or something? So what was this girl doing here? Or had he gotten the wrong seat? Kibum crossed and uncrossed his legs twice before bending down again to take out his school supplies.
"Hey. I'm Jung Young-Joo, but you can call me Nicole. I don't like my real name, it sounds like some random guy, y'know? You're Kibum, right?"
"I said it was that a little while ago, didn't I?" The teenager is cold, and he simply angles himself in the general direction of the girl, not bothering to raise his head properly as he shoots a frosty glare at her.
Nicole looked pretty hurt, with the almost-perfect curve of her lips bunched together slightly, teeth nibbling edge of it. Her heavily-done cat-eyes were narrowed, as if she was trying to figure something out about him.
"What?" Kibum isn't in the mood to play nice.
"You don't have to be so snappy with me, y'know. I wasn't any of those pabos that laughed at you, nor have I done anything to you like how Hoya has." she slides a pinky finger on top of Kibum's yellow pencil case to point out a buff guy who was sitting three or four rows away from them, raucously laughing away, despite Mr. Lee's (their homeroom teacher's name, Kibum found out) constant slapping of a wooden ruler on the well-used desk. Kibum recognized him as the one who tripped him. He abruptly feels sorry towards Nicole, and awkwardly pinches at his forearms.
"Sorry," he sighs, closing his eyes.
"It's okay," giggles Nicole, and Kibum opens his eyes in surprise to see her all airy again. "Let's be friends, no?"
"Uh," he mumbles, taken aback by her forwardness. "Oh.. Kay?"
Nicole leans in out of the blue, startling the youth with her intense expression. "W-what's w-"
"Have you always had gray eyes, or are you wearing contacts?"
"They've been gray since the day I was born."
"Oh," replies Nicole, leaning back into her seat just as abruptly as she had leant in to look at Kibum. "You're really pretty, you know that? Everyone's talking about you today, even in the girl's bathroom, I heard." The chatty girl's voice dips into a conversational whisper, and Kibum crans his neck a little closer to her to hear her better, albeit half-heartedly. "That girl over there- see, the one with the black fur jacket? Yeah, her- Krystal, she's gone a little gaga upon seeing you in the office today, and it's real hard to get the ice-princess agitated, especially over some boy. I overheard she likes your hair," laughs Nicole delightedly. "I like it too. I'm half-American too, by the way."
"Miss Jung, would you like to share your lovely conversation with Mr. Kim to the class?" Mr. Lee barks down the room, right hand brandishing his meter-rule.
"Gwenchana, Mr. Lee."
"And you," the man rounds on Kibum this time, who keeps his impending yawn at bay with tightly sealed lips. "Quite the chatterbox, aren't we? Would you like to sit at the front with Hoya, then? Sung-Jong can move over to sit with Young-Joo."
Kibum accidentally catches Hoya's look of utmost disgust, and clenches his fists as the other's purposely-obvious protest drifts into his ears. "No way am I sitting with fag-boy."
"You-" Kibum stops, feeling a squeeze on his knee from Nicole. She shakes her head minutely, eyes locked blindly to the board. "I'll control myself, Mr. Lee."
"You'd better," sniffs the teacher, just as Hoya turns around to give him the finger, mouthing the word "fag" at him. Kibum nods stiffly, and ignores Nicole's wide eyes as he uncaps a ballpoint pen and stabs the tip viciously into the metal zip of his pencil case.
~
"What's your next class?" Nicole catches up beside him after exchanging butterfly waves with her friends.
"Chemistry," says Kibum sourly, stalking out of the classroom without a backward glance.
"Aw, don't be like that. Those assholes will leave you alone in time to come." Nicole has a skip in her step, and she hooks her fingers onto a strap on Kibum's bag, towing herself lightly behind him.
"I swear I fucking hate this place, Nicole. The fuck have I done to anyone, seriously?" Kibum exhales noisily, roughly picking at his bangs while using his phone as a mirror.
"Kibum.."
"Ignore me, I'm just whining." The blonde looks over his shoulder wearily. It was only nine-thirty, and yet he felt more than ready for a good long sleep. "What class do you have, then?"
"Actually, math." She makes a face, sticking out a pink tongue at him. "But I'll walk you to class before I go to mine."
"Aren't I supposed to walk you instead, since I'm the-"
"Shut up and go!" Nicole places her hands on the small of his back and gently directs him down the hallways, oblivious to the tremendous amount of stares and comments she's getting.
"No, Nicole-ah, this isn't right-"
"Here!" The brunette says proudly, holding his shoulders and placing him just outside the door, as if he was a doll. "Bye pretty Kibum! I'll talk to you if we have class together again." She sped off, leaving the teen no chance to bid his goodbyes and to stammer awkward thank yous.
~
Chemistry, History and Math passes agonizingly slowly for Kibum, and for all of the three classes, Nicole was in none of them (he was starting to grow fond of her company). He does have a less eventful three consecutive periods though, aside from the usual spectators of his arrival as a new student and wonky introduction to his new classmates. He receives a handful of snide remarks, but nothing more than that. Kibum was slowly getting to know his way around the compound without the help of the map, which was good, but he really couldn't care less about school. He spends most of his available time (parts of classes he thought he understood) dozing off gently on his desk, occasionally rejecting some forward girl's offer to have lunch together, or go out, or anything at all.
Kibum's early for English. As he steps through the wooden sliding door, he feels the usual array of curious glances and mass whispers, all directed at him. He maneuvers down the front length of the classroom with grace, idly searching for Nicole. He doesn't see her amongst the faceless heads, but however spots a bright-eyed girl in a black fur coat- Krystal, he remembered- waving at him, gesturing for him to sit with her. He is taken aback, but smiles apologetically and heads over to the opposite side of class, where he occupies an empty pair of tables. He hangs his bag behind his seat by the straps, and reaches around to fumble for his phone, again ignoring his classmates. He is certain that he will be utterly bored out of his mind; English was something he was especially adept at, what with his fruitful past back there with all the foreign 'clients'. He pauses a little at Minho's picture on the front screen, admiring his boyfriend- okay, so he needed some eye-candy before class- before frowning and impatiently tapping out a message to him.
Sent: Babybum <3, 10:49AM
English lesson soon. Gna b fcking bored arnd here. I h8 sch baby, cn I come hme to you right nw? ._.
Received: Froggy <3, 10:52AM
Pay attention sweetie, and stop swearing so much. Wht happened? <3
Sent: Babybum <3, 10:52AM
Call me.
Received: Froggy <3, 10:53AM
Can't, sorry baby. Having a meeting right now. At home?
Sent: Babybum <3, 10:54AM
Gdi. You knw wht, forget it. Ttyl class is starting. Don't embarrass yourself thinking of me <3
Received: Froggy <3, 10:59AM
Sorry sweetie <3 I'll try not to, you shldn't too ;)
Kibum drops his phone back into the darkened depths of his bag just as a girlish voice sounds a few meters away from him.
"Can I sit here?"
"Yeah." Kibum replies without looking up, and shifts his chair semi-obnoxiously away from his new partner, having been trained the past few hours in the art of protecting himself from the numerous jealous fucks in this place.
"I haven't seen you around before.." Kibum is slightly irritated; the stranger is trying to make pointless conversation. He abruptly stands up and walks to the front desk, where his English teacher was placing her books and laptop on the table, to hand her his slip of paper for signing. He takes to her cheery smile- the first he's received from his new teachers all day- and wordlessly agrees to introduce himself to the rest of the class, including her.
"I'm Kim Kibum, a new student at Young Shin High," he drawls, having perfected his speech after several trials and errors this morning. "I'm seventeen plus, and I dance in my free time-" he pointedly ignores the wolf-calling and shouts "ballad, right?". "I'm Korean-American, so if anyone's wondering, I'm not wearing contacts. See you guys around." with a lazy wave, he holds his head high and walks back to his seat, only to be jerked to a stop with amazement.
His partner has honey-blonde hair reaching almost to his shoulders, falling around his small face in soft, flowing strands. His right wrist has a white digital wrapped around it, and that very same hand has its fingers perfectly poised around a black pen as it points its cap at Kibum in furrowed recognition. Stranger Boy.
"You!" Kibum can find no words to express himself as he takes in the sheer beauty of the other (almost as gorgeous as himself, his begrudging ego admits).
The boy's cool doe eyes light up upon seeing the slight upturned curve of Kibum's lips. "Trouble-on-the-first-day-of-school Boy?"
Kibum snorts lightly, and slides his legs into his seat, arms folded as he appraises the boy's milky white skin. He spies a reddish tinge around the boy's slightly-swollen button nose, and bows his head abashedly. "Sorry about that."
"Oh, I've had worse from you, so it's not biggie," he teases, a slim hand going up to prod experimentally at his nose. He winces, and Kibum laughs.
"What?"
"If it hurts, then stop touching it already." Kibum plays with the pockets of his school pants as he talks. He notes that the other boy has his altered much tighter than his was, so that it clings casually to every curve of his skinny legs whenever he moves.
"It was your fault in the first place, you know." His savior's eyes disappear into an inverted U, as if to remind Kibum that he's just kidding.
"Well, I didn't ask for any saving." The teen hums, flipping through his textbook lazily and shutting it again.
"You would have probably just died back there if I didn't pull you aside at the risk of my own safety!" answers the boy in disbelief, still prodding at his nose. "Ow ow ow-"
"Pabo-yah, fucking stop touching it then!" Kibum firmly leads away Stranger Boy's hand with his own, placing it on the table and putting pressure on it. He glares sternly at the boy as he attempts to use the other hand.
"Okay, okay, calm down." sighs the other, dropping his other hand in mock surrender. They sit together in silence for a little while as their teacher lectures the class on her expectations of the year ahead.
"Hey, can I ask you something?" Kibum finally opens his mouth to speak again, being bored out of his mind at the simple words the teacher was correcting the class on- spelling the word university, seriously?
"Go ahead. I can listen to both at the same time."
"Why'd you help me? Why aren't you like all the loser fucks in this place, anyway?" The honey-blonde turns slowly to meet Kibum's expectant, but wary eyes.
"Because.. I don't know, I figured you didn't need all this shit on your first day. I heard what a lot of people were saying about you, but don't worry too much, I used to get all that when I first came down here, too." Kibum is mildly surprised that the other boy can talk about his being picked on so easily like that, and scrunched up his face in confusion. The boy catches his expression, and laughs.
"You get used to it, then you don't have to care too much anymore."
"Oh." Why did he always have to come up with the stupidest answers? What if Stranger Boy thought he was an idiot or something?
Thankfully, his thought processes were broken by Stranger Boy, who suddenly decides to speak up again, though not looking at him. "Your name?"
"Jeez, after all you've claimed to hear from the student population, coupled with my self-introduction, you still don't know who I am?" Kibum replies, slightly snippy.
"I don't actually pay attention to details. So what do I call you, if I'm supposed to be your seat mate for the next year or so? And by the way, I'm not exactly good at Engli-"
"You talk a lot, you know that? Kibum." The youngster reaches into his bag once more, and brings out an unopened stick of grape Mentos. He peels apart the cheap paper packaging and pressed out two purple sweets, offering one to the boy under the table. "You want?"
His partner takes one uncertainly, and pops it into his mouth. "Thanks."
"Mm."
"Why haven't you asked for my name yet, Kibum?"
"Figured you'd tell me if you wanted to." Kibum stretches his arms skyward, blinking blearily at the high ceiling of the classroom. He earns a light push from the other boy. "Waeyo?" he squeaks, almost toppling off the chair.
"You talk really cold. Lighten up a little, huh?" The other blonde flashes a set of straight, white teeth, and Kibum is helplessly sucked into his beseeching stare.
"What d'you expect, if you've had a shitty time for almost every second you're attending your first day of school?"
"But you could be nice to me, I didn't go batshit mean on you at all. Remember, I saved you!" Kibum laughs for the second time in his face as the boy points proudly at himself with his thumbs.
"You win this round. You should be paying more attention since your English sucks, right?" Kibum lies on the table with his chin resting on his textbook, ready to doze off.
"What about you, hyung? You're my hyung, right? I'm sixteen, I skipped a grade."
"You talk too much!" Kibum groans in exasperation, kicking at his table leg. Beside him, the boy hums happily. "And for someone who claims to be smart enough to skip grades, they still suck at English."
The boy flushes. "That was really mean, hyung." He looks so hurt that Kibum can't help but pat at his long hair, marveling silently at its texture.
"Okay kiddo, mianhae."
The boy smiles again, and settles back comfortably into his seat. Kibum however finds another reason to groan when the he opens his mouth again, not half a minute later.
"Aren't you gonna ask me for my name?"
"Yah, don't push it."
"Hyung-ah, it's only basic courtesy!" his partner starts tapping his table rhythmically with his pen, earning them unwanted attention and an unsure smile from their teacher. Kibum pokes his side.
"Stop that."
"Till you ask me," he sing-songs, and this time he's the one to almost fall out of his seat with Kibum's pushing.
"Kibum-ssi, is something wrong?" Oops, busted. The teacher is about to walk up to them, mouth laced with worry. Kibum fought back a laugh.
"No, Mrs. Son. I was helping him get rid of a bug."
"If you're sure.." the class tittered after the teacher as she resumed her lesson.
"So what in fuck's world is your name, kiddo?"
The boy gasped quietly and looked at Kibum with large eyes. "You swear a lot, you know that right, hyung-ah?"
"Oh fine, I don't want to know anymore." Kibum pretends to switch off and concentrate really hard on the lesson, but his partner's constant nudges render him unable to.
"It's Taemin, Kibum-hyung. Lee Taemin. Pleased to meet you! Oh, and my nose hurts pretty much, you should-"
"Shut up Taemin-ah." Why was it that everyone who was nice to him today have the tendency to be a chatterbox?
A/N: HEY GUYS I’M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE POST, AND THIS ISN’T EVEN THE FULL CHAPTER BECAUSE I FIGURED IT WAS GETTING TOO LONG and I haven’t written it actually.. But yeah, I’m sorry. If I were to give a reason, I would be blaming it on having zero self-control when it comes to being hooked on reality TV shows (I’m currently watching WGM Adam Couple. Shoot me if you agree I’m slow :/) But yeah, I’ll try to write faster. I’m sorry if I kept anyone waiting! Oh, and by the way, can I ask if you guys think I write too boring-ly? As in, my chapters are really long but have nothing much going on, really, at least to me. Could I get honest feedback? Thank you! I’ll try my best to see you guys next Thursday with the second half of this chapter. <3