Yoosu fic contest| Oneshot| The Schematics of Being Special
The way his school defined ‘special needs children’ never failed to astound Yoochun.
It hardly made sense that he was in the same class as Kim Junsu. Him, Park Yoochun- the ever-angry, disruptive, shameful reject- in the same class as ever-quiet Junsu- the retard. It never failed to stun him that either of them were in the class at all. They had vastly different problems (not that Yoochun ever really believed they were problems; people weren’t things to be solved) and neither of them ever really got help anyways.
Yoochun was hardly ever as disruptive as teachers had always painted him and never unjustified. Junsu was hardly an idiot, Yoochun knew (not that he’d ever gotten the chance to confirm it in speech with Junsu, but Yoochun knew), and like everywhere else, they just didn’t belong there.
Though, Yoochun mused, watching Junsu doodle little music staffs and eighth notes in the margin of his paper, even if he managed to ‘fix himself up,’ to prove they didn’t need to be there, there weren’t many places they could go (not a pause there to ponder just why he lumped himself in with the other boy when they were hardly friends, barely knew each other at all).
Rejects were hardly anywhere at all unless you tripped on them, and retards were only good for beating, and in high school those labels never changed, no matter who the subject became. Anything that set a person up to be singled out either made them hated or loved but it never left them, and Yoochun (being avoided like the plague when he walked through the halls, seeing Junsu attacked for the third time that day) wished he knew how to erase it.
He sighed softly, and Junsu looked up, eyes sharp and demanding an explanation for Yoochun’s staring. Yoochun said nothing, shrugging instead but still refusing to break his gaze.
Junsu looked tired- defeated- in the moments that he held Yoochun’s gaze before looking back down to doodle over his math worksheet. Yoochun had never felt so bad.
-
That night, covering his younger brother’s ears to protect him from the sound of their parents fighting, Yoochun remembered a time when Junsu had been popular- long before adolescence where everybody seems to care about all the wrong things- when he’d been in the same crowd as the kids who knew how to read better than anyone else- and when he himself had been sweet and charming and not embittered by the constant chaos in his house.
A vase shattered and Yoochun cringed, holding his brother tighter.
He remembered then the time when Junsu got moved down from the higher class levels with increasingly inferior work despite his efforts, when Yoochun had taken his frustrations out on the easy target and the bottom of his stomach dropped out through the floor in self-deprecating disgust.
It was strange that they were lumped together in one class despite their vast differences in needs-
Angry words rushed fast in hissing tones outside the door and Yoochun gave in, letting go of his brother to fish out sleeping pills and let them filter out the fighting for him.
He dreamt of Junsu and terrible jeering, heartbreaking silence and for once he wasn’t sure if it was any better than what he’s tried to escape in the waking world.
-
Yoochun skipped the first half of the school day to break into the music room and try his hand at the piano. He wasn’t allowed there, wasn’t allowed to take the elective courses that he wanted because the school board was afraid of what the parents would think if their precious little vipers were exposed to troubled children like him. Yoochun, however, wasn’t sure he cared as long as he got in the room. He could play by his own rules, learn by himself.
He hardly expected to see Junsu there too, little bracelet of keys pilfered from security dangling from his wrist while he played ever so quietly, mouthing words to a song that people would probably never hear because Junsu had even less opportunity than Yoochun to pursue what Yoochun just knew (or maybe remembered, it was a fuzzy thought) to be one of the greatest talents one could find in their school.
Even more than a reject, no one wanted a retard ‘ruining’ their spiel.
“Junsu?”
The other teen stiffened, recognizing the voice but only acknowledging Yoochun’s presence with a slight forward slump. Yoochun took the initiative to step closer, calling out again.
“What’re you doing here?”
Junsu spun around to pin Yoochun with his clear gaze again, rooting Yoochun to his spot even as Junsu stood and pushed past him to return to class, silent as ever.
Minutes after Junsu left, Yoochun could still see the expression on Junsu’s face whenever he closed his eyes.
-
Yoochun wasn’t even sure when he started following Junsu around (though it definitely beat going home, duty to protect his younger sibling from their family’s shortcomings be damned) but he was nothing if not thorough about it.
He even managed to follow Junsu home one day, trailing behind the slow-moving car on foot and hopping the fence behind the house into the quaint little backyard, settling under a window where-
“Su-yah… you know your course counselor said you couldn’t handle the class. Don’t push it; we know what’s best. Goodness, what are we to do with you? You Can’t possibly even make it to college or a reasonable career like this…”
Yoochun panicked and ran. He wasn’t in any condition to be around any parent-types at all, couldn’t be around hurtful words and broken households anymore.
Especially when he knew there would be no fighting back .
-
Junsu stared at Yoochun in an unnerving manner at school the next day and Yoochun knew Junsu knew that Yoochun followed him home and didn’t like what he saw. Yoochun could see it in a nonverbal challenge lancing through the other teen’s frame as he neglected to even cover his math sheet in random lines of music Yoochun wished he could hear (day in, day out- Yoochun had never quite thought of it before but he’d grown fond of the shapeless melody in Junsu’s head).
What do you want from me?
Junsu’s eyes were sharp, but Yoochun couldn’t look away. He was captivated like he was seeing into Junsu’s soul and meeting him for the first time.
I don’t know. Hell, I don’t know…
Junsu narrowed his eyes and proceeded to turn the sevens on his paper into eighth notes, eyes focused on it stridently. Yoochun was almost more unnerved by the blatant display of anger, but he tried to ignore it and give Junsu space, drowning in his own thoughts.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually given consideration to someone that wasn’t his brother.
-
Yoochun trailed Junsu home again automatically, hardly sparing the action a thought before he rounded a corner and found Junsu standing only a foot away from him, glaring. Yoochun backed up, blank excuses flying up to the tip of his tongue and dying there at he look he was receiving. Junsu advanced ever so slightly, fingers curling into fists and trembling slightly, Yoochun’s eyes flying to them-
“What the fuck do you want with me?!”
The voice was husky, rusty with disuse, but still pleasant and Yoochun jumped at the sound not understanding where it came from until he saw Junsu’s lips moving. The words were thrown out clumsily and Yoochun did not doubt for a second that the other teen really hadn’t spoken more than two words in the past few years, tongue tripping and stalling with tone too-soft.
“Are you listening, Park? What the fuck do you want, huh? If you wanna mess with me, just do it already. I’m not going to wait to take your bullshit at your leisure!”
Yoochun stood, stock still and shocked trying to process the words and the anger coloring Junsu’s cheeks, but the other teen didn’t give him a chance, turning sharply to storm down the street before Yoochun could even think of a response. Junsu was halfway down the block before he managed to gather his wits again.
“Wait! You aren’t stupid!”
The wrong words entirely, but Junsu halted anyways, waiting.
“And… and I don’t think wither of us deserve what we’ve gotten. I guess…” Yoochun took a cautious step towards the other teen, “I guess I just want to know why… and… how to make it better.. for you too.”
Junsu spun around and made his way back, grabbing Yoochun by the wrist, something desperate in the action, though he couldn’t gauge the degree with Junsu’s head bowed to hide.
“D-do you like the Han river? We can talk if you want.”
Yoochun clung to the statement and led the way.
-
With Junsu, Yoochun learned, things were more bearable (yes, even with the rumors that had spread about the two of them, but therein was the beauty of being in special ed- rumors got boring fast and one could pretend not to hear and thing and no one would care).
Yoochun had never had someone to listen to listen to him, to share with and share the load. He hadn’t had anyone to make him smile for the longest time and before Junsu, he thought he hadn’t wanted one.
And he knew it was the same for Junsu. (I cracked the quiet boy confessed one day I couldn’t handle being perfect and I’m no good at math, couldn’t fake it. I cracked and here I am and Yoochun understood)
Things were better. He’d found the other half to his whole- not as different as he thought they would be.
As they were supposed to be.
As they had been.
Yoochun had found his better. He didn’t ever want to let it go.
-
(Yoochun didn’t have any plan for the future, hell hadn’t even expected a future once, but six months after Junsu finally talked, they kissed and Yoochun thought well, maybe I want this.)