Prompt 6: lovesgoku

Object/Word Prompt: Intelligent

Place: The dorm or a park or someplace.

Action: Junhong feels like he's not very smart because he doesn't know as much as his hyungs. Yongguk let's him know that he isn't dumb and encourages him. There can be smart in this if it works for the story. Would love for it to be romantic too.

Dislikes: The same as the last one.

Other notes: All the members might be nice to read in this.

Author: nverse     **Everyone, please remember to let the author know what you think, okay? Just click the link and leave a comment ^^

Sometimes, Junhong didn’t get things.

And sometimes, Junhong just couldn’t help but want to bash his head into the wall from being so utterly stupid and hopeless. Even to his eyes.

Junhong was a smart kid – except when he was stupid – but spending most of his days away from the usual confines of a school building and wall, as all the other kids his age would be, he really couldn’t help it when he didn’t understand the topic being covered at school.

Especially, if he hadn’t heard the lesson the day before – or for that whole last week for that matter.

But it wasn’t as if that had stopped the others from having high expectations on him anyways. And of course it hadn’t; after all, it wasn’t as if any of them knew what he went through daily.

“Why don’t you get this?”

Now it wasn’t as if the other members scolded him for being stupid without reason. They all tried to help out with Junhong’s little educational issue, each and every member pitching in to aid tutor the maknae in what the youngest lacked. Not that any of them were particularly talented in the art of teaching.

And if Junhong didn’t know any better, he could have sworn that Youngjae was just about ready to tear his head off right then and there. If Junhong didn’t know that Youngjae was only doing this out of the kindness of his heart, he may have run away, a sobbing mess, when he felt the older male’s exasperated glare against his skull.

“It’s ing easy!” Youngjae’s hands were thrown up in the air, his brows knit and jaws slightly unhinged to show his disbelief. “I’ve told you like, twenty times already!”

To Youngjae, it was easy, elementary, but to Junhong, it couldn’t have been any more puzzling. He just couldn’t understand how a math problem could have more English letters than his English homework did.

“It’s hard,” was the only complaint Junhong could whimper out, twirling his half chewed up pencil between his fingers, unable to meet the vocal’s burning glare. It wasn’t his fault that he absolutely at math. He was just born that way: number challenged. Just like how Youngjae couldn’t perform aegyo without turning a bright tomato red in the face, Junhong just couldn’t figure out math when there was more alphabet than numbers.

Not that Youngjae actually understood.

There was a grunt in the little space beside Junhong, followed by a short “I give up,” and the stomping of feet. That made the fourth member to give up on trying to teach poor little Junhong. Even the patient Youngjae hadn’t been enough.

So it wasn’t exactly to his own fault when the corner of his eyes began to well up in tears.

He was stupid; maybe it was clear time to accept that fact.

“Junhong ah?” There was a warm touch of hand to his shoulder that made the boy glance up, blinking away his tears – as stupid as he was, his pride was still intact. “Let’s try again after you eat dinner.”

Himchan.

The elder man – dubbed mother – smiled kindly down at him – totally foregoing the fact that he too had yelled at Junhong just mere hours ago – in what Junhong could only identify as pity. But what Junhong needed right now wasn’t pity; he needed a better brain that worked correctly.

Still, unable to reject the small act of kindness, he nodded, shoving away the stack of papers that hadn’t shrunk since he’d first sat down earlier that day. Maybe all he needed was a nice long break to cool his brain. Maybe in a few hours, his stupid would clear off and allow him to finish his homework before he died.

Or not.

Settling down on the – now wiped – kitchen table once dinner was complete, – stocked with all of Junhong’s favorites in hopes cheer up the usually cheerful skater teen – Junhong found the problems just as hard as before. If not worse.

And for the next few minutes, there was help. Seated just to the right of him was Himchan, pointing, with dwindling patience, to each letter in turn with a strained smile. But Himchan’s patience only lasted so long. It was only seconds before he was off again, mumbling profanities under his breath.

Needless to say, it didn’t take long for Junhong’s face to meet the paper cluttered table top with a groan. Homework was stupid. He’d never get it finished, and going back to school, he’d be faced with a more than disappointed teacher who would call his parents and management up, complaining about his schedule and inability to keep up with both class and promotions.

Heavens knew that that was the last thing Junhong wanted.

Lifting his head a little from the blank – too blank – sheets, Junhong whimpered, dropping his head to the hard surface with a thump and whine, repeating the process carelessly. His head hurt; not just because he was smashing his forehead into the cool marble surface of their dinner table.

It wasn’t until a hand came to cushion the fall between the teen’s forehead and table that Junhong halted his action, staring up at the said hand’s owner with droopy eyes. He was sleepy, irritable and utterly stupid, whatever the hand’s owner had to say, he knew wouldn’t help. Not unless they could somehow magically make him smart again.

“Junhong?”

With wrinkled brows and a tucked out bottom lip, Yongguk frowned worried at him. Yongguk was probably disappointed; disappointed that a member of his perfect – hence their name – group was so ing stupid.

But Yongguk was too nice to say that. It wasn’t in Yongguk’s system to say bad things.

Lifting Junhong’s face from the table, the eldest cupped his cheeks, examining the reddening blotch marking the normally pale skin. “Are you alright?” Worry was thick in the man’s voice as he reached to gently rub the forming bump. “Why’re you hitting yourself Junhong ah?”

Because I’m stupid.

Instead of replying, Junhong hissed lightly, flinching away from the older man’s touch. He didn’t need, nor want, pity.

“Junhong.”

Yongguk’s voice was stiff, stern, as he pulled up a seat by the taller child. It was his leader voice, demanding the respect he more than surely deserved. Yongguk only ever used his authority voice when he was upset; and Junhong knew better than to disrespect it, for it was a warning until the leader blew a fuse.

“Alright! It’s because I’m a ing idiot!” Junhong’s voice was pitched, his arms flailed in the air as he shoved back from the countertop, wailing a little at his now public failure. He was stupid, and now the whole world knew it. “What,” Junhong hissed, distress clear in his voice, “it’s true!”

Upon this, the frown on Yongguk’s features seemed to harden, scaling deeper into the tanned flesh that was the leader’s. Clearly, someone wasn’t too pleased of the maknae’s outburst. “You’re not stupid.”

The way Yongguk said this made it seem like a definite fact; a reasoning that couldn’t be fought against.

For a cold second, there was silence, neither rapper willing to lose the battle of wills (Junhong wasn’t even sure why he was fighting someone to prove he was dumb). It was only after a chilling five minutes did Yongguk break through the silence with a sigh and shake of head. Exasperated; that was the look that each and every one of the members held before they stormed off spitting venom from their tongues.

“You’re not stupid Junhong,” Yongguk’s voice was soft this time, muffled behind the hand that had come to cover the older’s face. “You were never stupid and you’ll never be.” Something about the way he said this left the underlying tone that yelled the ending of their argument.

Junhong wasn’t going to win.

“You’re our genius rapper, remember?” A hand came to ruffle the fluffed locks sitting atop the boy’s head, fondly screwing the made style that the teen had worked so hard to complete earlier that day. “You’re still growing, six years younger than me, and you’re already so talented. So interested into things I couldn’t have even dreamed of when I was your age.”

There was a smile in the leader’s words as he scooted closer to the boy, lazily tossing an arm around Junhong, a half-assed embrace that the boy took gladly.

“But,” Junhong began with a little huff, his voice much deflated from the original screech it’d begun as, “I just rap whatever you write me. You’re the genius.”

“Am I?”

Junhong huffed. Of course Yongguk was a genius; that was a fact that everyone and their mothers knew. It wasn’t a secret that the older man was the prime example everyone’s mothers would compare to. And if just to state this, wordlessly, he slapped the man’s chest, whining.

Another slap was awarded to Yongguk, of course, as he laughed, each rumble shaking Junhong lightly. “Well, I think you’re plenty genius enough. No, let me finish,” Yongguk added, just as Junhong opened his mouth to complain. “You always know the right words to say, the right things to do when we’re having a bad day. You’re always the one dealing with Himchan when he’s having a bad day; you know how to shut Daehyun up when he’s gone off on his nagging spree. You’re the only one who can keep up with Jongup’s insane dance moves and all the while still have enough time to play Starcraft with Youngjae. If anyone’s the genius, I think it’s you.”

Just in time to meet Yongguk’s gummy smile, Junhong leaned out, catching the older male’s squinted crescent eyes.

“You’re my prodigy, Junhong.”