all the lonely boys (volume i)
friendship!kai/chanyeol | PG | high school AU | 1, 360 words
“hey, congratulations on graduating, jongin-ah,” chanyeol-hyung says with a grin, as they meet on their way to go out. he’s dressed nicely with a plain white t-shirt and tight maroon pants. jongin nods back, and chanyeol-hyung holds up his thumb.
jongin watches as chanyeol-hyung’s longlonglong legs are walking in front of him, how the material accentuates chanyeol-hyung’s honey thighs, and he licks his lips when chanyeol-hyung flicks his brunette hair off of his face.
they arrive at the bus station, jongin sits at the other corner and he counts to thirty until chanyeol-hyung asks,
“so where are you going?”
“now? or?”
chanyeol-hyung blinks repeatedly, cutely, and then he laughs.
“well, okay. both?” he asks again.
“myeongdong. and i’m going to your school,” and it’s time to move his face muscles to appear like smiling.
“really?” chanyeol-hyung’s eyes widen. “that’s great! i’ll take good care of you, don’t worry!”
a couple of years ago, his family moved next to the park’s, and chanyeol-hyung could’ve been his best friend forever except that he didn’t pass the childish requirements of how should a cool big brother act, according to kim jongin, age nine.
now that he’s sixteen, the sad fact could’ve been pushed off to the side as jongin’s biggest failure because he can only appreciate chanyeol-hyung’s beauty from afar.
and a cool big brother isn’t supposed to be beautiful.
he watches as chanyeol-hyung’s rather small, but long column of neck is contracting when he laughs over his classmate’s joke. he watches when chanyeol-hyung clumsily dribbles the basketball and passes it to his teammate and how he heaves at the sideline after the game only rolls for a solid ten minutes. he watches until his math teacher calls his name and the whole class is looking at him; kim jongin, the dance prodigy who is mostly silent and simply unapproachable.
“i’m sorry, songsaenim,” he says for formality. his math grade is alright, so that old teacher doesn’t really need to scold him.
when he turns his head back to the field, chanyeol-hyung’s gym class is already dismissed.
chanyeol-hyung likes to keep his sky blue curtain open and jongin has been watching the older boy laughing when he reads manhwas, tugs his hair at his frustrating homework, but never a crying park chanyeol. of course jongin is curious. the closest of him to witness a sadness reflected on chanyeol-hyung’s big brown eyes was, past tense, the days, plural, he stayed silent at chanyeol-hyung’s kind questionings and advances in hope of them to become unrelated-by-blood-brothers because jongin had (has) two giggly noonas.
it doesn’t matter. because whenever chanyeol-hyung’s head is lolling to the sides, left to right ups and downs, as sleep overtakes his hyperactive system; that moment looks so vulnerable, so natural, so perfect and it never lasts forever because chanyeol-hyung has to get up from his bed and finally closes the curtain.
that’s jongin most favorite sight, by the way.
today, chanyeol-hyung wears his favorite, faded, green snoopy t-shirt to sleep. he’s rubbing his eyes as jongin sits up straighter on his own bed in his own room, hugging his pillow, and the baggy t-shirt is dropping on chanyeol-hyung’s left shoulder, showing more skin covering his thin bone.
jongin sighs dreamily.
sometimes, he often wonders what it feels like waking up to chanyeol-hyung’s perfect face-friends do sleepover, right-but it will only lead him to the what ifs; what if he had accepted chanyeol-hyung’s friendship offer what if they were just normal neighbors hanging out what if chanyeol-hyung was still the ever so persistent eleven year old what if his nine year old self wasn’t being difficult back then.
that’d be too much to ask. the last what if, that is. he understands he can’t have everything he wants. he’s been doing good not owning chanyeol-hyung for seven whole years, besides, chanyeol-hyung never dates anyone. he politely rejects every single love confessions he’s had for ever since puberty does wonder to him, so why the melancholy now?
chanyeol-hyung yawns to his fist as he wakes up from his long slumber. “have we arrived?” he sniffs, looking around groggily.
jongin clears his throat, “hyung, it’s quarter to nine.”
“hm,” chanyeol-hyung is searching his backpack, probably for his bus e-card. then, he blinks, pauses, and gapes before he practically squeaks in such unmanly way that the whole bus falls silent and glances suspiciously at them.
“oh my god?!” chanyeol-hyung is laughing. a cool big brother isn’t supposed to lose his composure in public. but.
“oh my god! so-so we’re-where are we?!” chanyeol-hyung fans his face using his left hand.
the corner of jongin’s lips twitch to fight back a smile, “somewhere in hongdae.” and at chanyeol-hyung’s frantic giggle he decides to hell with it.
“hyung, i’m hungry,” he says, because it’s not everyday he braves himself to take a seat next to chanyeol-hyung on their way to school, and the look on chanyeol-hyung was so fucking flattering; his big brown eyes were, jongin solemnly swears, twinkling.
why is it again he never bothers to try, before?
“right!” chanyeol-hyung switches to a serious mode in a flash, but still he looks so comical and pretty up close like this. “right right right let me think first,” he puts a finger on his temple, closing his eyes.
jongin shamelessly stares.
they don’t go all special buddy-ish after their impromptu escapade, no, but he has chanyeol-hyung’s number on his phone now. the night after, chanyeol-hyung sends a simple text consisting this funny emoticon; (｡◕‿◕✿ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ'✿ ヽ(*⌒∇⌒*)ﾉ and a cool big brother isn’t supposed to decorate a text with-but jongin replies it with a good night, hyung anyway.
life’s good.
to be c o n t i n u e d
“that’s your childhood friend, right? that freshman,” baekhyun points out to jongin, who only wears his undershirt, playing basketball on lunchtime with his classmates. a couple group of girls are cheering for them.
“yeah,” chanyeol nods, slurps his banana milk as he watches jongin’s tanned skin glimmer with sweats. “what’s up?”
“nothing,” baekhyun shrugs, “just realized that i never really see you guys interacting? you used to blabber about him when we were in elementary.”
i don’t even have his number, baek. you do the math.
chanyeol grins but he doesn’t answer. he deceives his same age best friend’s attention with a bar of snickers instead.
to be honest, chanyeol has been wondering too, for the past years-as he slowly understands that maybe, just maybe, jongin hates him-what had he done wrong. all he wanted (wants) was (is) to have a familiar face that he can see everyday and close enough for him to pet to hug to spoil. his noona is still too busy with her life and he’s so done being the baby of the family.
and jongin lives just next door. he’s the perfect candidate to be park chanyeol’s unrelated-by-blood-dongsaeng.
not.
because jongin never appeared to be enthusiastic of him coming over, the younger boy looked bored all the time and preferred to watch soccer over spongebob squarepants; playing basketball over sharing interesting stories, taking a nap over painting...
the funny thing is, their ummas are sort-of-best-friend. they tell each other about their only sons, and jongin is always accepted at the school chanyeol goes to, although they don’t even make small talks every morning when they take the bus or at the end of the day when they usually meet again at the bus shelter.
because chanyeol stopped trying, no matter how much it pained his hyung instinct to watch jongin grow up still with the same stoic expression everyday. being thisclose yet so far.
well at least, there’s a positive side of it all! jongin seems to be cold to everyone else, too. okay, that sounds cruel but still! it’s a maybe, remember? maybe jongin doesn’t hate him. maybe he does. who knows?
jongin might be a stalker.
open ending.
the chanyeol part is like, flashback-ish.
“hey, congratulations on graduating, jongin-ah,” chanyeol-hyung says with a grin, as they meet on their way to go out. he’s dressed nicely with a plain white t-shirt and tight maroon pants. jongin nods back, and chanyeol-hyung holds up his thumb.
jongin watches as chanyeol-hyung’s longlonglong legs are walking in front of him, how the material accentuates chanyeol-hyung’s honey thighs, and he licks his lips when chanyeol-hyung flicks his brunette hair off of his face.
they arrive at the bus station, jongin sits at the other corner and he counts to thirty until chanyeol-hyung asks,
“so where are you going?”
“now? or?”
chanyeol-hyung blinks repeatedly, cutely, and then he laughs.
“well, okay. both?” he asks again.
“myeongdong. and i’m going to your school,” and it’s time to move his face muscles to appear like smiling.
“really?” chanyeol-hyung’s eyes widen. “that’s great! i’ll take good care of you, don’t worry!”
a couple of years ago, his family moved next to the park’s, and chanyeol-hyung could’ve been his best friend forever except that he didn’t pass the childish requirements of how should a cool big brother act, according to kim jongin, age nine.
now that he’s sixteen, the sad fact could’ve been pushed off to the side as jongin’s biggest failure because he can only appreciate chanyeol-hyung’s beauty from afar.
and a cool big brother isn’t supposed to be beautiful.
he watches as chanyeol-hyung’s rather small, but long column of neck is contracting when he laughs over his classmate’s joke. he watches when chanyeol-hyung clumsily dribbles the basketball and passes it to his teammate and how he heaves at the sideline after the game only rolls for a solid ten minutes. he watches until his math teacher calls his name and the whole class is looking at him; kim jongin, the dance prodigy who is mostly silent and simply unapproachable.
“i’m sorry, songsaenim,” he says for formality. his math grade is alright, so that old teacher doesn’t really need to scold him.
when he turns his head back to the field, chanyeol-hyung’s gym class is already dismissed.
chanyeol-hyung likes to keep his sky blue curtain open and jongin has been watching the older boy laughing when he reads manhwas, tugs his hair at his frustrating homework, but never a crying park chanyeol. of course jongin is curious. the closest of him to witness a sadness reflected on chanyeol-hyung’s big brown eyes was, past tense, the days, plural, he stayed silent at chanyeol-hyung’s kind questionings and advances in hope of them to become unrelated-by-blood-brothers because jongin had (has) two giggly noonas.
it doesn’t matter. because whenever chanyeol-hyung’s head is lolling to the sides, left to right ups and downs, as sleep overtakes his hyperactive system; that moment looks so vulnerable, so natural, so perfect and it never lasts forever because chanyeol-hyung has to get up from his bed and finally closes the curtain.
that’s jongin most favorite sight, by the way.
today, chanyeol-hyung wears his favorite, faded, green snoopy t-shirt to sleep. he’s rubbing his eyes as jongin sits up straighter on his own bed in his own room, hugging his pillow, and the baggy t-shirt is dropping on chanyeol-hyung’s left shoulder, showing more skin covering his thin bone.
jongin sighs dreamily.
sometimes, he often wonders what it feels like waking up to chanyeol-hyung’s perfect face-friends do sleepover, right-but it will only lead him to the what ifs; what if he had accepted chanyeol-hyung’s friendship offer what if they were just normal neighbors hanging out what if chanyeol-hyung was still the ever so persistent eleven year old what if his nine year old self wasn’t being difficult back then.
that’d be too much to ask. the last what if, that is. he understands he can’t have everything he wants. he’s been doing good not owning chanyeol-hyung for seven whole years, besides, chanyeol-hyung never dates anyone. he politely rejects every single love confessions he’s had for ever since puberty does wonder to him, so why the melancholy now?
chanyeol-hyung yawns to his fist as he wakes up from his long slumber. “have we arrived?” he sniffs, looking around groggily.
jongin clears his throat, “hyung, it’s quarter to nine.”
“hm,” chanyeol-hyung is searching his backpack, probably for his bus e-card. then, he blinks, pauses, and gapes before he practically squeaks in such unmanly way that the whole bus falls silent and glances suspiciously at them.
“oh my god?!” chanyeol-hyung is laughing. a cool big brother isn’t supposed to lose his composure in public. but.
“oh my god! so-so we’re-where are we?!” chanyeol-hyung fans his face using his left hand.
the corner of jongin’s lips twitch to fight back a smile, “somewhere in hongdae.” and at chanyeol-hyung’s frantic giggle he decides to hell with it.
“hyung, i’m hungry,” he says, because it’s not everyday he braves himself to take a seat next to chanyeol-hyung on their way to school, and the look on chanyeol-hyung was so fucking flattering; his big brown eyes were, jongin solemnly swears, twinkling.
why is it again he never bothers to try, before?
“right!” chanyeol-hyung switches to a serious mode in a flash, but still he looks so comical and pretty up close like this. “right right right let me think first,” he puts a finger on his temple, closing his eyes.
jongin shamelessly stares.
they don’t go all special buddy-ish after their impromptu escapade, no, but he has chanyeol-hyung’s number on his phone now. the night after, chanyeol-hyung sends a simple text consisting this funny emoticon; (｡◕‿◕✿ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ'✿ ヽ(*⌒∇⌒*)ﾉ and a cool big brother isn’t supposed to decorate a text with-but jongin replies it with a good night, hyung anyway.
life’s good.
to be c o n t i n u e d
“that’s your childhood friend, right? that freshman,” baekhyun points out to jongin, who only wears his undershirt, playing basketball on lunchtime with his classmates. a couple group of girls are cheering for them.
“yeah,” chanyeol nods, slurps his banana milk as he watches jongin’s tanned skin glimmer with sweats. “what’s up?”
“nothing,” baekhyun shrugs, “just realized that i never really see you guys interacting? you used to blabber about him when we were in elementary.”
i don’t even have his number, baek. you do the math.
chanyeol grins but he doesn’t answer. he deceives his same age best friend’s attention with a bar of snickers instead.
to be honest, chanyeol has been wondering too, for the past years-as he slowly understands that maybe, just maybe, jongin hates him-what had he done wrong. all he wanted (wants) was (is) to have a familiar face that he can see everyday and close enough for him to pet to hug to spoil. his noona is still too busy with her life and he’s so done being the baby of the family.
and jongin lives just next door. he’s the perfect candidate to be park chanyeol’s unrelated-by-blood-dongsaeng.
not.
because jongin never appeared to be enthusiastic of him coming over, the younger boy looked bored all the time and preferred to watch soccer over spongebob squarepants; playing basketball over sharing interesting stories, taking a nap over painting...
the funny thing is, their ummas are sort-of-best-friend. they tell each other about their only sons, and jongin is always accepted at the school chanyeol goes to, although they don’t even make small talks every morning when they take the bus or at the end of the day when they usually meet again at the bus shelter.
because chanyeol stopped trying, no matter how much it pained his hyung instinct to watch jongin grow up still with the same stoic expression everyday. being thisclose yet so far.
well at least, there’s a positive side of it all! jongin seems to be cold to everyone else, too. okay, that sounds cruel but still! it’s a maybe, remember? maybe jongin doesn’t hate him. maybe he does. who knows?
jongin might be a stalker.
open ending.
the chanyeol part is like, flashback-ish.