SH 2015: easing; receding (for emperor_zurgtai)
For: emperor_zurgtai
From: ANONYMOUS until May 22, 2015
Title: easing; receding
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/Focus: Suho/Chen & platonic!Suho/Chanyeol, one-sided!Suho/Sehun
Length: 3,500 words
Summary: a snippet of the trials and tribulations of a hapless college student who just wants to get it in with that guy who ends up in a class with him every semester.
Warning/s: vaguely adult language/situations.
Notes: hi recipient!! all of your prompts were really cool, so i tried my hand at all of them, but i chose this one to finish. i’m not sure if it’s what you wanted (it’s kinda different than what i usually write), but i tried to include other pairings just in case. sequel with more suchen maybe? hopefully it became something you’ll enjoy and like too regardless!! ♡ also a very special thank you to my shoulders to cry on, babymaker and bearmoji. i love you both!
1
It’s only been two minutes since he’d taken his seat when he senses it.
That familiar, unmistakable scent of chypre cologne disperses throughout the classroom, and the fine baby hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention in anticipation of his arrival. He nearly gives himself whiplash as he straightens his slumped posture and almost frantically scans the entirety of his lecture hall until he catches sight of windblown chestnut locks and a pair of sharp cheekbones.
That guy.
The tip of Joonmyun’s pencil snaps against the schedule he’d been filling out for himself, and he only takes note of it because he’s got half a mind to erase it all in favor of devoting his life to garnering the attention of that guy. He’s only more determined now, of all times, because every single time he’s gathered up the courage to say anything to him, whatever force out there in the universe that controls his fate never fails to interfere and fuck him over.
But Joonmyun wasn’t a quitter. He’s not the type to throw up his arms and place all the fault in his stars. If there’s anything in life worth pursuing, he’s sure it’s the boy with the upturned corners of his lips. The guy with the veiny hands that are always fumbling with his too-big frames that slip down the bridge of his nose in three-minute intervals (Joonmyun knows this because he’s spent more time in class watching him than his professors). The guy that’s sitting a bit off-center two rows in front of him. What exactly is stopping him from just… switching to a more convenient seat? Nothing, that’s what. There’s an open chair next to the love of his life, and he feels as though this was a sign from whatever powers that be.
That’s it, I’m going for it, he internally cries out as he slowly rises from his seat, fully intending for the briefest of moments to just climb over the backs of his only barriers instead of navigating himself around the maze of chairs.
He rethinks his bold decision when his instructor wanders in right at that moment and addresses his students - particularly the ones that were still up and about. Students immediately scattered. And just like that, none other than Oh Sehun plops his non-ass (not that he’s ever looked) down into what should’ve been his seat.
As if he’d been caught red-handed slipping his hand into the cookie jar, Joonmyun slowly retracts the leg he’d lowered over into the next aisle, and his butt reconnects with his seat with a soft thud before he begins to melt down into his initial slumped position. Dejected and deterred, he wallows in self-loathing for his most recent failure for almost the entirety of his class’ session.
Until he gets another idea, that is, when he pulls out a new pencil from his bag. His eyes dart from pencil to blank sheet of paper to that guy in a three-part cycle before he scribbles down a message.
Hey, you’re cute. Let’s hang out sometime? :)
Joonmyun’s tongue slips out from the corner of his lips in concentration. He attempts to quietly crumple his paper into a small projectile, gaze flickering between his professor and potential love of his life. Once the former turns his back to the class, he goes for it. Balls to the wall, no regrets.
With a flick of his wrist, his hopes and dreams hurdle two rows down in front of him… one seat to the left of its intended destination.
Joonmyun’s jaw practically falls to his desk as he watches none other than Oh Sehun bend down to pick up and uncrumple a little piece of his heart in sheer horror. Within seconds, Sehun is slowly turning in his seat and searching for the source of the note. Their professor’s back is still facing him, and Joonmyun takes advantage of the situation by beginning to flail his arms and frantically gesture, no, you idiot, it’s for him.
Of course, Sehun doesn’t catch on immediately, and just takes the other’s action to be that of a secondary confession. Shifting to face Joonmyun better, his plump lips twitch into a sly little smile, thinly-plucked eyebrow raising suggestively along with the creak of his chair. Joonmyun’s arms begin flapping even harder to the right, complete with a spastic head shake and lips mouthing, no, no, give it to him! Him! Kim Jongdae!
Sehun still doesn’t get it. He gestures towards his right, but it’s more of a reference towards the exit. He nods, but it’s that sleazy sort of head-bobbing that implies, yeah, I knew you wanted a piece of me all along. And then he does it. He lifts his fisted hand up to his parted lips, shaking his hand in time with his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek to jut it out in the most disgustingly lewd manner. Joonmyun’s face begins to drain itself of color as his arms slowly ease to a halt, and he suddenly has the urge to make a break for the exit after all.
Joonmyun’s head rests atop his hands as his classmates rise from their seats with muffled shuffles and chatter, signaling the end of his class and yet another thwarted plan. Parting his fingers, he peers down towards the now unoccupied seat he’d ogled for the past hour with idle distress; discomfort that slowly intensifies when he notices the seat to the left isn’t unoccupied just yet. Sehun’s still sitting there, giving him that face from the most uncomfortably close distance, and Joonmyun immediately decides that he’s better off lamenting his failures elsewhere. Somewhere safe; somewhere skeezy side-eye-free.
He stuffs all of his belongings into his overflowing shoulder bag before he misses his chance to blend himself in with his peers, pushing through the clotted mass of students heading for the entryway just as Sehun rises from his seat. Joonmyun doesn’t stop once he’s trickled out of the crowd within the corridors, puffed wisps of breath marking his trail across campus.
2
Unfortunately, the only safe haven that definitively exists for Joonmyun at this time is the library. Under an oath of silence, he’s left to bury his face into his folded arms and attempt to keep himself from spilling over the edge of momentary insanity. And Joonmyun considers it both a blessing and a curse that the only one there to hold him together was Chanyeol, because if anyone understands how to soothe the aching heart of a lovesick idiot like him, it’s the big guy with the dopey grin and suspicious connections with half (or more) of their university’s population.
It’s just that Chanyeol’s methods are temporary, and Joonmyun isn’t interested in bandages and vague reassurances that he’ll get him next time, cheer up! Every ‘next time’ leads him full-circle, so he doesn’t think the other can offer him anything of real use. Except maybe his services to exterminate any Oh Sehuns on the premises.
But then Chanyeol says something that causes Joonmyun’s head to collide with the table beneath him with a dull thud. “I know a guy who knows a guy who works with that Jongdae guy,” he whispers offhandedly, despite his deep voice still carrying easily across the table and possibly to the next. Joonmyun remains still, and Chanyeol continues, “-So, maybe I could have them, uh… put in a good word for you?”
The elder of the two tilts his head slightly in response to the offer, but it’s not good enough. He frowns. His eyes narrow, and he reminds the other of last semester’s unreciprocated favors through them. Chanyeol rolls his eyes and thinks Joonmyun’s probably the most melodramatic person he’s ever known, but humors him nonetheless. He doesn’t like encouraging his behavior, but he also doesn’t like wondering when Joonmyun’s going to exact his revenge on him for not presenting some sort of solution. “Okay,” he sighs defeatedly, too-large hand lifting up to rip off his thick frames and give his moronically morose friend a stern look. “If I pull some strings and set you up with him, and you mess up, you can’t blame it on me.”
Joonmyun slowly lifts his head up to eye Chanyeol suspiciously, though he’s hesitant to take him up on his offer. The recesses of his mind pitch a fit about how this is all wrong; about how it doesn’t count if it doesn’t happen naturally, but the more sane part of himself comes to terms with the fact that they’d probably never cross paths without outside interference. After all, fate’s screwed him over enough times already.
“Maybe I’ll blame you a little,” he starts reluctantly, folding his arms over his chest. He conceals the fact that his heart is beating wildly within it with a painfully forced smile, and he tries not to think so hard about what lies in the future. “So, where are we going to meet for our first date?”
“First date?” Chanyeol scoffs out a weakly-muffled laugh, earning him a few looks from passersby. “You’re funny. Hilarious.”
“What-” Joonmyun tries, but the younger’s quick to cut him off.
“I’m not setting you up on some one-sided blind date with him. That’d be weird. He probably isn’t even interested in dating anyone right now, and if he is, he’s probably got someone already. You don’t even know if he likes sucking dick or not, do you?”
Joonmyun visibly deflates as his cheeks flare up, and he vaguely wishes he could melt into his chair. It made sense to him that the one time the younger’s actually right about something, it comes crashing down onto him as a soul-crushing epiphany. All of his pining and planning really could be for nothing, and he felt more embarrassed than ever that someone out there understood just what a pathetic pile of desperation he was. And of course it’s Chanyeol, of all people.
Chanyeol picks up on the other’s internal self-loathing as if it were a sixth sense, and tosses his frames aside unceremoniously in favor of resting a meaty paw on Joonmyun’s slumped shoulder. “But,” he drawled out, and Joonmyun could see that he was trying to choose his words carefully. “What I can do is make sure you guys meet up. Whether you two hit it off and bang all that sexual tension out or go your separate ways is up to you.”
“We wouldn’t have sex! It’s not like that!” Joonmyun abruptly whisper-yells, body spasming in attempt to nudge Chanyeol’s hand off of his being. “I just- I feel like he and I would have a connection if he’d just notice that I exist. Even if- Even if it ends up being completely platonic, I’ll feel comforted in knowing. All of the ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ are eating away at me. I can’t live another semester like this.”
Joonmyun pauses to compose himself, and Chanyeol silently takes pity on him and his deteriorating state while onlookers make hushed complaints about the scene the elder was making. He continues before he’s peer-pressured into clamping his mouth shut, “I just need to know. That’s all I ask.”
“Well,” Chanyeol sighs, reclining back in his chair and propping his legs up atop the polished table. “He’s probably gay. Straight guys don’t get perms.”
Joonmyun allows his arms to fall limply onto the table, lightly crumpling a few of Chanyeol’s scattered paperwork. “How would you know?”
Chanyeol merely shoots him that toothy grin of his, brow arching far too suggestively for Joonmyun’s liking. And he doesn’t even know what the other’s trying to reference through that gesture, but something stirring in the pit of his stomach reminded him that he didn’t want to know.
“Whatever,” Joonmyun grumbles, accented with a brief sigh. “Back to the problem at hand: how do you intend on getting us to meet if you’re not intentionally setting us up?”
Chanyeol’s smile somehow grows wider; more amused, and Joonmyun’s wary of the answer to his question as the other slowly leans in, dangerously encroaching on the elder’s set territory. “Two words: frat party.”
3
“This is stupid,” Joonmyun huffs from behind the cup of apple juice lifted to his lips. He feels so alien in this environment and he’s half sure that a certain classmate of his would as well. “You’re stupid. Jongdae would never come here.”
“How would you know?” Chanyeol slurs out mockingly, rehashing the other’s words from their last meeting. He’s standing next to Joonmyun despite his attempt to wedge himself into a corner away from the general population of partygoers, and though the elder’s thankful he’s not enduring this experience alone, a buzzed Chanyeol is twice as annoying as his default state of being. “You know nothing about this guy other than his name and the fact that he likes math. Don’t try to tell me you think you have some sort of spiritual; cosmic connection with that guy.”
“He probably doesn’t even like math,” Joonmyun counters with a sharp glare sent in Chanyeol’s direction. He takes another gulp of his juice and tries not to notice how frighteningly correct his confidante’s been lately. And he also tries not to note how off this room-temperature beverage was, which knocked the only potential redeeming factor of this night (save for the slim possibility Chanyeol actually managed to do something right for once).
“No one,” the younger starts, a long, gangly arm finding itself draped over Joonmyun’s hunched shoulders. “No one in the entire world subjects themselves to four semesters of pure, unadulterated mathematics unless they like it. Look, he’ll be here. I’m sure of it. I really went out of my way to make this shit happen, so just trust me for once and be patient. He’ll show.”
Joonmyun sighs and makes yet another brief rundown of the scene in front of him, searching the wavering crowd for solace in the form of wild curls and crescented eyes. Just when he’s starting to hate himself and his situation a little less, of course Chanyeol’s there to drape his sweaty self over him and pin him to the wall. And of course he’s starting to feel less than hot the more he sips at his drink, but he’s already downed more than three-fourths of it and he’s so nervous that his mouth is getting drier by the second, so why bother stopping now?
Joonmyun inevitably decides that he should’ve probably seen the next scene coming. He idly wonders what he did in this life and the last to deserve the universe to be so cruel, just as his gaze meets with a certain Oh Sehun. An Oh Sehun who looks very distressed, and took their eye contact as some sort of unspoken invitation to come over and give Joonmyun the good ol’ what for. “No! It’s him! He’ll ruin everything!” he hisses as he attempts to burrow himself into Chanyeol’s large frame to (unsuccessfully) hide himself.
“What? Who? Where?” Chanyeol turns just enough to glance over his shoulder, resting a hand against the wall beside Joonmyun in what probably looked protective to the casual observer but was really the younger trying not to lose his balance. The shorter male’s clutching at him as if he were being pulled down into the depths of Hell by some unseen force, and Chanyeol’s not quite sure if he’s missed something or he’s too far gone to comprehend the situation.
“You! Why’d you run out of class so fast after tossing me that note?” Sehun intervenes before Chanyeol can find an answer to any of his questions, and the latter finds himself more confused than ever. He develops a preference for just watching the scene play out while shifting all of his weight onto Joonmyun, which ends up working out for no one.
“You don’t understand. That note wasn’t-”
“-And you’re here with him!” Sehun scoffs a little in an almost condescending manner, and Joonmyun’s internal screams slowly become deafening within him. He can feel blood rushing to his face as he places a clammy hand over the throbbing vein in his forehead, and he feels his dinner begin to churn in his gut. “Did you slip him a note, too? Do you do that to just any guy? I didn’t really think you were the casual hookup type, but I guess it all makes sense now. It’s always the quiet ones.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joonmyun slurs out with difficulty. He feels as though he could sense the anxiety physically rising within him, but he figures it could also very well just be bile. This entire situation left him lost and overwhelmed, and all he wanted to do right now was just get away.
“You’re drunk, too! I always thought-”
Joonmyun’s had enough by this point. He’s starting to break out in a cold sweat, and it’s getting more and more difficult to breathe with Chanyeol’s immense weight pressing down on him. “I’m not drunk, Sehun,” he explains as calmly as he could possibly convey with his strained voice. “I only had apple juice. I don’t do well with alcohol.”
He wants to press the issue further to make it clear that it’s only the stress of the situation the noodle boy is putting him in that’s causing him to feel ill, but Chanyeol suddenly shifts his weight elsewhere. Joonmyun spares his friend a glance, and that’s enough to catch sight of the other rubbing at the back of his neck while searching for a viable excuse to make an exit.
And then it dawns on him.
“You spiked my drink?!” he all but screeches, and, by this time, Chanyeol’s distanced himself a safe few feet away. Safe from Joonmyun, but unknowingly placing himself in another danger zone that included a very now-irate Sehun; a Sehun that grabs a hold of a disoriented Chanyeol’s collar and nearly slams him into Joonmyun, who’d managed to sidle a couple feet away from the two.
“Sehun-”
“You drugged him!” Sehun’s surprisingly able to hold his own, but Chanyeol’s not putting up much of a fight.
“Sehun-”
“You piece of shit, I’ll shove my fist so far down your-” Sehun can’t even finish his sentence as he raises his fist, and Chanyeol finally awakens from his alcohol-fueled stupor, attempting to squirm away from the volatile kid.
“Sehun-!”
“Joonmyun?”
Joonmyun recognized that last voice, and it did nothing to soothe his trembling form. His eyes met with familiar sharp cheekbones and then a pair of concerned, dark eyes before butterflies erupt within his stomach. And then he makes a break for it, brushing past the cluster of onlookers that’d gathered to watch the weakest fight of the century - Kim Jongdae included.
He spills his dinner out on the front lawn, and Chanyeol comes stumbling out with a reddened cheek a few minutes later to gather the heaving, sobbing mess he’d made.
4
After the incident at the party, he decides that it’s best to give up.
Joonmyun’s come to terms with the all-too-apparent fact that it just wasn’t meant to be by the time he returns to campus the following week with a cleansed mindset. He develops a new objective in life; an objective that requires less of allowing himself to be a lovesick puppy and involves skimming more books, more paperwork. He can’t find it in him to attend class for a good couple days, but, somehow, he doesn’t feel like that’s changed anything. He can’t avoid Jongdae forever, and though he doesn’t intend to, he just feels the overwhelming need to isolate; dissociate himself from the incident. As long as he didn’t have to see that stupidly handsome face, he wasn’t that loser who tossed cookies at the sight of him.
But fate has other plans for Joonmyun. For once.
“Excuse me?”
Joonmyun doesn’t have to look up from the text in his lap to tie that voice to a certain someone. But he does, anyway - just the shyest of peeks.
Jongdae’s lips curl into a smile, and he takes the other’s eye contact as his cue to continue. He seats himself next to Joonmyun, who has an initial impulse to distance himself from the other. But he doesn’t. “I heard you’re at the top of our class. I was thinking we could benefit from studying together, if that’s the case.”
Joonmyun’s lips part to deliver some sort of protest, but no sound comes out and Jongdae shifts dangerously closer to him. He’s still eyeing him with the most tender expression, and the elder of the two’s heart palpitates almost painfully. He can’t bear to look at his classmate anymore. He didn’t feel as though he deserved this sort of attention after the stunt pulled only days prior.
But Jongdae reassures him that’s the least of his concerns. A soft, thick hand rests over his own, and Joonmyun’s own lips twitch into a crooked grin.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, silently enough for just the two of them to hear. “I’d like that.”
From: ANONYMOUS until May 22, 2015
Title: easing; receding
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/Focus: Suho/Chen & platonic!Suho/Chanyeol, one-sided!Suho/Sehun
Length: 3,500 words
Summary: a snippet of the trials and tribulations of a hapless college student who just wants to get it in with that guy who ends up in a class with him every semester.
Warning/s: vaguely adult language/situations.
Notes: hi recipient!! all of your prompts were really cool, so i tried my hand at all of them, but i chose this one to finish. i’m not sure if it’s what you wanted (it’s kinda different than what i usually write), but i tried to include other pairings just in case. sequel with more suchen maybe? hopefully it became something you’ll enjoy and like too regardless!! ♡ also a very special thank you to my shoulders to cry on, babymaker and bearmoji. i love you both!
1
It’s only been two minutes since he’d taken his seat when he senses it.
That familiar, unmistakable scent of chypre cologne disperses throughout the classroom, and the fine baby hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention in anticipation of his arrival. He nearly gives himself whiplash as he straightens his slumped posture and almost frantically scans the entirety of his lecture hall until he catches sight of windblown chestnut locks and a pair of sharp cheekbones.
That guy.
The tip of Joonmyun’s pencil snaps against the schedule he’d been filling out for himself, and he only takes note of it because he’s got half a mind to erase it all in favor of devoting his life to garnering the attention of that guy. He’s only more determined now, of all times, because every single time he’s gathered up the courage to say anything to him, whatever force out there in the universe that controls his fate never fails to interfere and fuck him over.
But Joonmyun wasn’t a quitter. He’s not the type to throw up his arms and place all the fault in his stars. If there’s anything in life worth pursuing, he’s sure it’s the boy with the upturned corners of his lips. The guy with the veiny hands that are always fumbling with his too-big frames that slip down the bridge of his nose in three-minute intervals (Joonmyun knows this because he’s spent more time in class watching him than his professors). The guy that’s sitting a bit off-center two rows in front of him. What exactly is stopping him from just… switching to a more convenient seat? Nothing, that’s what. There’s an open chair next to the love of his life, and he feels as though this was a sign from whatever powers that be.
That’s it, I’m going for it, he internally cries out as he slowly rises from his seat, fully intending for the briefest of moments to just climb over the backs of his only barriers instead of navigating himself around the maze of chairs.
He rethinks his bold decision when his instructor wanders in right at that moment and addresses his students - particularly the ones that were still up and about. Students immediately scattered. And just like that, none other than Oh Sehun plops his non-ass (not that he’s ever looked) down into what should’ve been his seat.
As if he’d been caught red-handed slipping his hand into the cookie jar, Joonmyun slowly retracts the leg he’d lowered over into the next aisle, and his butt reconnects with his seat with a soft thud before he begins to melt down into his initial slumped position. Dejected and deterred, he wallows in self-loathing for his most recent failure for almost the entirety of his class’ session.
Until he gets another idea, that is, when he pulls out a new pencil from his bag. His eyes dart from pencil to blank sheet of paper to that guy in a three-part cycle before he scribbles down a message.
Hey, you’re cute. Let’s hang out sometime? :)
Joonmyun’s tongue slips out from the corner of his lips in concentration. He attempts to quietly crumple his paper into a small projectile, gaze flickering between his professor and potential love of his life. Once the former turns his back to the class, he goes for it. Balls to the wall, no regrets.
With a flick of his wrist, his hopes and dreams hurdle two rows down in front of him… one seat to the left of its intended destination.
Joonmyun’s jaw practically falls to his desk as he watches none other than Oh Sehun bend down to pick up and uncrumple a little piece of his heart in sheer horror. Within seconds, Sehun is slowly turning in his seat and searching for the source of the note. Their professor’s back is still facing him, and Joonmyun takes advantage of the situation by beginning to flail his arms and frantically gesture, no, you idiot, it’s for him.
Of course, Sehun doesn’t catch on immediately, and just takes the other’s action to be that of a secondary confession. Shifting to face Joonmyun better, his plump lips twitch into a sly little smile, thinly-plucked eyebrow raising suggestively along with the creak of his chair. Joonmyun’s arms begin flapping even harder to the right, complete with a spastic head shake and lips mouthing, no, no, give it to him! Him! Kim Jongdae!
Sehun still doesn’t get it. He gestures towards his right, but it’s more of a reference towards the exit. He nods, but it’s that sleazy sort of head-bobbing that implies, yeah, I knew you wanted a piece of me all along. And then he does it. He lifts his fisted hand up to his parted lips, shaking his hand in time with his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek to jut it out in the most disgustingly lewd manner. Joonmyun’s face begins to drain itself of color as his arms slowly ease to a halt, and he suddenly has the urge to make a break for the exit after all.
Joonmyun’s head rests atop his hands as his classmates rise from their seats with muffled shuffles and chatter, signaling the end of his class and yet another thwarted plan. Parting his fingers, he peers down towards the now unoccupied seat he’d ogled for the past hour with idle distress; discomfort that slowly intensifies when he notices the seat to the left isn’t unoccupied just yet. Sehun’s still sitting there, giving him that face from the most uncomfortably close distance, and Joonmyun immediately decides that he’s better off lamenting his failures elsewhere. Somewhere safe; somewhere skeezy side-eye-free.
He stuffs all of his belongings into his overflowing shoulder bag before he misses his chance to blend himself in with his peers, pushing through the clotted mass of students heading for the entryway just as Sehun rises from his seat. Joonmyun doesn’t stop once he’s trickled out of the crowd within the corridors, puffed wisps of breath marking his trail across campus.
2
Unfortunately, the only safe haven that definitively exists for Joonmyun at this time is the library. Under an oath of silence, he’s left to bury his face into his folded arms and attempt to keep himself from spilling over the edge of momentary insanity. And Joonmyun considers it both a blessing and a curse that the only one there to hold him together was Chanyeol, because if anyone understands how to soothe the aching heart of a lovesick idiot like him, it’s the big guy with the dopey grin and suspicious connections with half (or more) of their university’s population.
It’s just that Chanyeol’s methods are temporary, and Joonmyun isn’t interested in bandages and vague reassurances that he’ll get him next time, cheer up! Every ‘next time’ leads him full-circle, so he doesn’t think the other can offer him anything of real use. Except maybe his services to exterminate any Oh Sehuns on the premises.
But then Chanyeol says something that causes Joonmyun’s head to collide with the table beneath him with a dull thud. “I know a guy who knows a guy who works with that Jongdae guy,” he whispers offhandedly, despite his deep voice still carrying easily across the table and possibly to the next. Joonmyun remains still, and Chanyeol continues, “-So, maybe I could have them, uh… put in a good word for you?”
The elder of the two tilts his head slightly in response to the offer, but it’s not good enough. He frowns. His eyes narrow, and he reminds the other of last semester’s unreciprocated favors through them. Chanyeol rolls his eyes and thinks Joonmyun’s probably the most melodramatic person he’s ever known, but humors him nonetheless. He doesn’t like encouraging his behavior, but he also doesn’t like wondering when Joonmyun’s going to exact his revenge on him for not presenting some sort of solution. “Okay,” he sighs defeatedly, too-large hand lifting up to rip off his thick frames and give his moronically morose friend a stern look. “If I pull some strings and set you up with him, and you mess up, you can’t blame it on me.”
Joonmyun slowly lifts his head up to eye Chanyeol suspiciously, though he’s hesitant to take him up on his offer. The recesses of his mind pitch a fit about how this is all wrong; about how it doesn’t count if it doesn’t happen naturally, but the more sane part of himself comes to terms with the fact that they’d probably never cross paths without outside interference. After all, fate’s screwed him over enough times already.
“Maybe I’ll blame you a little,” he starts reluctantly, folding his arms over his chest. He conceals the fact that his heart is beating wildly within it with a painfully forced smile, and he tries not to think so hard about what lies in the future. “So, where are we going to meet for our first date?”
“First date?” Chanyeol scoffs out a weakly-muffled laugh, earning him a few looks from passersby. “You’re funny. Hilarious.”
“What-” Joonmyun tries, but the younger’s quick to cut him off.
“I’m not setting you up on some one-sided blind date with him. That’d be weird. He probably isn’t even interested in dating anyone right now, and if he is, he’s probably got someone already. You don’t even know if he likes sucking dick or not, do you?”
Joonmyun visibly deflates as his cheeks flare up, and he vaguely wishes he could melt into his chair. It made sense to him that the one time the younger’s actually right about something, it comes crashing down onto him as a soul-crushing epiphany. All of his pining and planning really could be for nothing, and he felt more embarrassed than ever that someone out there understood just what a pathetic pile of desperation he was. And of course it’s Chanyeol, of all people.
Chanyeol picks up on the other’s internal self-loathing as if it were a sixth sense, and tosses his frames aside unceremoniously in favor of resting a meaty paw on Joonmyun’s slumped shoulder. “But,” he drawled out, and Joonmyun could see that he was trying to choose his words carefully. “What I can do is make sure you guys meet up. Whether you two hit it off and bang all that sexual tension out or go your separate ways is up to you.”
“We wouldn’t have sex! It’s not like that!” Joonmyun abruptly whisper-yells, body spasming in attempt to nudge Chanyeol’s hand off of his being. “I just- I feel like he and I would have a connection if he’d just notice that I exist. Even if- Even if it ends up being completely platonic, I’ll feel comforted in knowing. All of the ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ are eating away at me. I can’t live another semester like this.”
Joonmyun pauses to compose himself, and Chanyeol silently takes pity on him and his deteriorating state while onlookers make hushed complaints about the scene the elder was making. He continues before he’s peer-pressured into clamping his mouth shut, “I just need to know. That’s all I ask.”
“Well,” Chanyeol sighs, reclining back in his chair and propping his legs up atop the polished table. “He’s probably gay. Straight guys don’t get perms.”
Joonmyun allows his arms to fall limply onto the table, lightly crumpling a few of Chanyeol’s scattered paperwork. “How would you know?”
Chanyeol merely shoots him that toothy grin of his, brow arching far too suggestively for Joonmyun’s liking. And he doesn’t even know what the other’s trying to reference through that gesture, but something stirring in the pit of his stomach reminded him that he didn’t want to know.
“Whatever,” Joonmyun grumbles, accented with a brief sigh. “Back to the problem at hand: how do you intend on getting us to meet if you’re not intentionally setting us up?”
Chanyeol’s smile somehow grows wider; more amused, and Joonmyun’s wary of the answer to his question as the other slowly leans in, dangerously encroaching on the elder’s set territory. “Two words: frat party.”
3
“This is stupid,” Joonmyun huffs from behind the cup of apple juice lifted to his lips. He feels so alien in this environment and he’s half sure that a certain classmate of his would as well. “You’re stupid. Jongdae would never come here.”
“How would you know?” Chanyeol slurs out mockingly, rehashing the other’s words from their last meeting. He’s standing next to Joonmyun despite his attempt to wedge himself into a corner away from the general population of partygoers, and though the elder’s thankful he’s not enduring this experience alone, a buzzed Chanyeol is twice as annoying as his default state of being. “You know nothing about this guy other than his name and the fact that he likes math. Don’t try to tell me you think you have some sort of spiritual; cosmic connection with that guy.”
“He probably doesn’t even like math,” Joonmyun counters with a sharp glare sent in Chanyeol’s direction. He takes another gulp of his juice and tries not to notice how frighteningly correct his confidante’s been lately. And he also tries not to note how off this room-temperature beverage was, which knocked the only potential redeeming factor of this night (save for the slim possibility Chanyeol actually managed to do something right for once).
“No one,” the younger starts, a long, gangly arm finding itself draped over Joonmyun’s hunched shoulders. “No one in the entire world subjects themselves to four semesters of pure, unadulterated mathematics unless they like it. Look, he’ll be here. I’m sure of it. I really went out of my way to make this shit happen, so just trust me for once and be patient. He’ll show.”
Joonmyun sighs and makes yet another brief rundown of the scene in front of him, searching the wavering crowd for solace in the form of wild curls and crescented eyes. Just when he’s starting to hate himself and his situation a little less, of course Chanyeol’s there to drape his sweaty self over him and pin him to the wall. And of course he’s starting to feel less than hot the more he sips at his drink, but he’s already downed more than three-fourths of it and he’s so nervous that his mouth is getting drier by the second, so why bother stopping now?
Joonmyun inevitably decides that he should’ve probably seen the next scene coming. He idly wonders what he did in this life and the last to deserve the universe to be so cruel, just as his gaze meets with a certain Oh Sehun. An Oh Sehun who looks very distressed, and took their eye contact as some sort of unspoken invitation to come over and give Joonmyun the good ol’ what for. “No! It’s him! He’ll ruin everything!” he hisses as he attempts to burrow himself into Chanyeol’s large frame to (unsuccessfully) hide himself.
“What? Who? Where?” Chanyeol turns just enough to glance over his shoulder, resting a hand against the wall beside Joonmyun in what probably looked protective to the casual observer but was really the younger trying not to lose his balance. The shorter male’s clutching at him as if he were being pulled down into the depths of Hell by some unseen force, and Chanyeol’s not quite sure if he’s missed something or he’s too far gone to comprehend the situation.
“You! Why’d you run out of class so fast after tossing me that note?” Sehun intervenes before Chanyeol can find an answer to any of his questions, and the latter finds himself more confused than ever. He develops a preference for just watching the scene play out while shifting all of his weight onto Joonmyun, which ends up working out for no one.
“You don’t understand. That note wasn’t-”
“-And you’re here with him!” Sehun scoffs a little in an almost condescending manner, and Joonmyun’s internal screams slowly become deafening within him. He can feel blood rushing to his face as he places a clammy hand over the throbbing vein in his forehead, and he feels his dinner begin to churn in his gut. “Did you slip him a note, too? Do you do that to just any guy? I didn’t really think you were the casual hookup type, but I guess it all makes sense now. It’s always the quiet ones.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joonmyun slurs out with difficulty. He feels as though he could sense the anxiety physically rising within him, but he figures it could also very well just be bile. This entire situation left him lost and overwhelmed, and all he wanted to do right now was just get away.
“You’re drunk, too! I always thought-”
Joonmyun’s had enough by this point. He’s starting to break out in a cold sweat, and it’s getting more and more difficult to breathe with Chanyeol’s immense weight pressing down on him. “I’m not drunk, Sehun,” he explains as calmly as he could possibly convey with his strained voice. “I only had apple juice. I don’t do well with alcohol.”
He wants to press the issue further to make it clear that it’s only the stress of the situation the noodle boy is putting him in that’s causing him to feel ill, but Chanyeol suddenly shifts his weight elsewhere. Joonmyun spares his friend a glance, and that’s enough to catch sight of the other rubbing at the back of his neck while searching for a viable excuse to make an exit.
And then it dawns on him.
“You spiked my drink?!” he all but screeches, and, by this time, Chanyeol’s distanced himself a safe few feet away. Safe from Joonmyun, but unknowingly placing himself in another danger zone that included a very now-irate Sehun; a Sehun that grabs a hold of a disoriented Chanyeol’s collar and nearly slams him into Joonmyun, who’d managed to sidle a couple feet away from the two.
“Sehun-”
“You drugged him!” Sehun’s surprisingly able to hold his own, but Chanyeol’s not putting up much of a fight.
“Sehun-”
“You piece of shit, I’ll shove my fist so far down your-” Sehun can’t even finish his sentence as he raises his fist, and Chanyeol finally awakens from his alcohol-fueled stupor, attempting to squirm away from the volatile kid.
“Sehun-!”
“Joonmyun?”
Joonmyun recognized that last voice, and it did nothing to soothe his trembling form. His eyes met with familiar sharp cheekbones and then a pair of concerned, dark eyes before butterflies erupt within his stomach. And then he makes a break for it, brushing past the cluster of onlookers that’d gathered to watch the weakest fight of the century - Kim Jongdae included.
He spills his dinner out on the front lawn, and Chanyeol comes stumbling out with a reddened cheek a few minutes later to gather the heaving, sobbing mess he’d made.
4
After the incident at the party, he decides that it’s best to give up.
Joonmyun’s come to terms with the all-too-apparent fact that it just wasn’t meant to be by the time he returns to campus the following week with a cleansed mindset. He develops a new objective in life; an objective that requires less of allowing himself to be a lovesick puppy and involves skimming more books, more paperwork. He can’t find it in him to attend class for a good couple days, but, somehow, he doesn’t feel like that’s changed anything. He can’t avoid Jongdae forever, and though he doesn’t intend to, he just feels the overwhelming need to isolate; dissociate himself from the incident. As long as he didn’t have to see that stupidly handsome face, he wasn’t that loser who tossed cookies at the sight of him.
But fate has other plans for Joonmyun. For once.
“Excuse me?”
Joonmyun doesn’t have to look up from the text in his lap to tie that voice to a certain someone. But he does, anyway - just the shyest of peeks.
Jongdae’s lips curl into a smile, and he takes the other’s eye contact as his cue to continue. He seats himself next to Joonmyun, who has an initial impulse to distance himself from the other. But he doesn’t. “I heard you’re at the top of our class. I was thinking we could benefit from studying together, if that’s the case.”
Joonmyun’s lips part to deliver some sort of protest, but no sound comes out and Jongdae shifts dangerously closer to him. He’s still eyeing him with the most tender expression, and the elder of the two’s heart palpitates almost painfully. He can’t bear to look at his classmate anymore. He didn’t feel as though he deserved this sort of attention after the stunt pulled only days prior.
But Jongdae reassures him that’s the least of his concerns. A soft, thick hand rests over his own, and Joonmyun’s own lips twitch into a crooked grin.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, silently enough for just the two of them to hear. “I’d like that.”