Sungjong stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and bent down to retie the laces on his boots. He tucked the knot in under the leather tongue just as Myungsoo caught up behind him and paused, waiting a few seconds for Sungjong to finish and stand back up again. 

The month-long break from school had changed nothing about the way the days were set up, not like Sungjong had expected it to. Today was his first day back to school after the holiday, and already he felt like he’d undertaken nothing but a weekend. Weeks of lounging around in his jeans and practicing with the band were forgotten as soon as they started, and now all that was left to focus on were history papers and alarm clocks. He’d always find time to play, though. It took more than a class schedule to tear him away from music for too long.

Sungjong and Myungsoo’s shortcut to school went through the park of the neighborhood they both lived in and around to the staff car lot in the back of the building. The school itself was a large, imposing slab of dated brown on top of a hill, something that looked more like a courtroom than a prep school. It wasn’t much better inside, the biggest example of ornamentation being the lines drawn into the crown moulding in the hallway, and the pattern the beige and white tiles made on the bathroom floors.

This shortcut was not a secret, as evidenced by the slow stream of teenagers continually passing by. Sungjong and Myungsoo leaned in synchronization as bicycles and scooters passed, to avoid getting bumped into. Even after moving over, some boy on an orange bike rode up the hill a little too fast, smacking Sungjong hard in the shoulder and sending him stumbling to try and stay upright. 

Sungjong glared at the back of the cyclist as he brushed off his shoulder (needlessly, of course, but it gave good effect.)

“Wonderful manners!” he shouted, jaw clenched. Hurriedly, he began down the sidewalk again, tripping slightly over the cracked pavement as he went. Myungsoo struggled to match back up with Sungjong’s quickened pace, settling a hand on his friend’s shoulder once he managed to follow the timing of his steps. 

“Did you see his face clearly?” Sungjong asked, slowing so that Myungsoo didn’t have to continue rushing to keep up with him. “Was he one of those Glory s?”

Honestly, he didn’t really care who it was, and he knew Myungsoo wasn’t the one to complain to - his best friend had never been that concerned by their rival group either, because, like Sungjong, he also cared more about the music than he did the competition that went along with it. Still, Sungjong figured Myungsoo had come to expect at least some reaction from him.

Sighing, Myungsoo only tightened his fingers around the fabric of Sungjong’s blazer for a moment, squeezing, before letting go again. 

“Calm down, won’t you? It’s too early in the semester to start this antagonizing crap. We aren’t even through the front gates yet.”

Sungjong had only been a student at the prep school since the beginning of the year, having spent one semester there already and preparing now to start his second. He had never found it hard to fit in at his old public school, and the prep school was no different story. Within the first week of his attendance, he had debuted with an already instituted circle of friends (Terrific), and people knew well enough not to mess with him. 

Sungjong cleaned up well, and he looked great on paper; he was a straight A student, attending one of the best schools in the area based almost entirely on scholarship (perhaps a little less thrilling than it could have been, as it was a scholarship for talented young pianists, but it was still a great - and cheap - education.) 

He knew when to hold his tongue and how to keep attention away from himself, and his reputation as being actually very astute and sharp was one that probably took most people by surprise once it had been established. It went completely against how he first presented himself to people; the pretty kid, slender and initially quiet, wasn’t a pushover and he wasn’t stupid, and Sungjong liked it to be known that way. 

Besides, he never much liked living too predictably. Being a contradiction was much more fun.

The pair entered through the school’s front doors with a crowd of other students, all dressed exactly alike aside from the shoes. Sungjong and Myungsoo found their lockers, side by side in the section of the hall reserved for the tenth graders, and sourced their textbooks. They stored the new ones they had just bought in between the metal shelves and pulled out the old ones they still needed for their new classes, stuffing them back into their bags.  

Myungsoo shut the door of his locker and hauled the strap of his bag higher up onto his shoulder. 

“See you later,” he said, signaling goodbye with a salute of his fingers to his brow.

Sungjong nodded and watched for a second as his friend walked down the hallway to the east wing, before shutting his own locker and heading down to the opposite side of the school for his first class.

The benefit of sitting at the front of the class was that you could be the first one out the door if you watched the clock right. When classes finally ended that day, the jarring sound of the bell ringing through the school stirred everyone into a relieved sort of motion, and Sungjong was no different. He was quick to launch himself out of his seat and head down the hall to his locker, collecting the books he needed quickly and locking up again just as fast. 

Checking the time on the silver watch that encircled his left wrist, Sungjong left the school building and stepped out into the fresh air of the afternoon. He was fifteen minutes late to meet his friends now, thanks to that extended introduction lecture in the last class, and Sunggyu was going to be a completely insufferable nag if he took any longer. 

Sungjong half-ran down the hill towards the staff car lot, being careful not to trip over the legs of the students lounging and studying in the dappled sun spots that hit the slope of grass. The sound of murmuring soon filled his ears, and as he walked through the opening in the chain link fence and passed by a pair of mini vans, it began to grow louder. Sungjong frowned at the sight of a small circle of students in the center of the car lot, and he pushed his way through without any hesitation. 

“You are really pathetic, starting arguments on first day of the year,” a familiar voice said sternly. “I hoped the vacation would help you all get your together but I guess that was stupid of me.”

Sunggyu was in the center of the crowd, standing in front of Hoya, who had begun to laugh raucously. After watching for a second, Sungjong noticed Sungyeol and Woohyun standing in the ring on Hoya’s right, watching the scene with confused expressions.

A hand reached out and grabbed onto Sungjong’s sleeve, and Sungjong turned to see Myungsoo pulling him back into the ring and away from the conflict.

“I’m fifteen minutes late and you’re in a fight with them already?” Sungjong demanded, trying to keep his voice as low as possible. “Who started it?”

Myungsoo gave Sungjong one of his typical stares that were always more annoying than insightful. 

“I just got here, I don’t even know.”

Sungjong just sighed as Hoya finally collected himself enough to talk, his styled hair messed up and falling in front of his eyes as a result of such hard laughter.

“You, Sunggyu, thinking something stupid? Do you forget your own personality as Alzheimers sets in? I didn’t know.” 

Sunggyu was shockingly intolerant of the remark, launching forward to grip Hoya by the folded lapels of his blazer. Hoya flinched, and Sungjong could almost feel the movement twitching down the sides of his own body.

“You really don’t know when to off, do you?”

Sungjong studied Hoya’s face, his expression morphing in the time of barely a couple of blinks. First, the boy’s eyes widened at the hold Sunggyu had on him, but soon his face melted into something along the lines of a leer. Something twisted in Sungjong’s gut at the look in Hoya’s eyes. He didn’t look the least bit intimidated, only pleased, even relaxed.

A grin slowly grew on Hoya’s face, lecherous and self-satisfied, one that showed off his teeth.

“But you know all about ing off, don’t you, Sunggyu?”

Sunggyu barely had time to register the words before he sent his hand smacking across Hoya’s face. The crowd’s breath collected into a gasp, some people whistling as Hoya staggered back into the circle of people. Woohyun grabbed onto his elbow before he could fall.

Hoya held a hand up to his face, clutching it over his chin. When he pulled it away, Sungjong could see the deep red mark on his cheek. Impressive, Sungjong thought, raising his eyebrows. Sunggyu had more strength than he would have first assumed.

Hoya’s face morphed again, now into something guarded, tucking his shock away like those textbooks into the locker shelves. He twitched his head to the side to readjust the stiffness in his neck and sent a quick glance over at his attacker. 

“Well that’s fine with me,” he said plainly. “No use reprimanding the elderly.”

Sungjong couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in the wires of Hoya’s brain to make him so brash here, when just the night before he was so reserved. Usually he was completely unobtrusive, even indifferent.

But Sungjong must have been wrong. He stepped forward before Sunggyu could respond to Hoya’s newest remark, pushing his friend bodily back towards Myungsoo and taking his place in the circle.

“Hey, what the hell is your problem?” he called, glancing Hoya up and down. None of that tentative business from the night before, now he didn’t care if he would make Hoya flighty or not.

In fact, he’d almost prefer it if he did.

Narrowing his eyes, Hoya turned to look at Sungjong fully.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but how is this any of your business?” 

“Sungjong, stay out of this,” Myungsoo implored, eyes stern.

Before Sungjong could reply, there was a loud clapping sound from the entrance to the car park. Everyone in the crowd flinched and looked around, and then jumped again at the sight of a teacher entering the fray. She inspected the group of students, shooing the obvious bystanders away and then turning to look back at the two involved groups of boys, taking in Hoya in particular.

“Who did this to you?” she demanded, taking in the welt now bright red on Hoya’s cheek.

Sungjong looked at Sunggyu, expectant, and felt his own face fall in concern when Sunggyu remained where he stood. Tell her it was you, he thought. Why aren’t you stepping forward?  Hoya finally raised his hand, and Sungjong felt a tinge of dread settle in his stomach, cold and churning.  

He wouldn’t. There wasn’t enough of a reason to-

“Miss,” Hoya began. His eyes were narrow now, angrily set directly on Sungjong. Sungjong’s body tensed at the look that could only fit under one description. Retribution. “I was only minding my business, and Sungjong attacked me out of nowhere.”

Myungsoo crowed in outrage. “Excuse me?” 

The teacher looked from Sungjong to Hoya and then back again. Sungjong shook his head, eyes widening the longer her face remained expressionless.

“It wasn’t even Sungjong,” said Woohyun, clearly not understanding his bandmate’s intention. “Sunggyu was the one who hit him.”

As the groups began to argue, the teacher held up her hand, silencing. 

“Quite frankly,” she began, “I don’t believe any of you. I know how you groups work, right? If one goes down, the others seek vengeance together. You’re all part of a pact, so does it even matter who did it?” 

Sungjong’s rage rose at the look of utter accomplishment on Hoya’s face, but he was too angry to speak, even to make a noise to try and voice the disbelief he was feeling.

I thought maybe you were above this , but you’re the worst, just like Sunggyu has always said.

“Both of you, come with me to the headmaster’s office immediately,” the teacher finally said. “Immediately. The rest of you leave, now.”

Looking to Sunggyu, Sungjong caught the relief on his friend’s face as he and Myungsoo took hesitant steps towards the trail they all usually took together on the way home. He sent them a tiny, forced smile, and he prayed it was at least somehow reassuring. He felt like murdering Sunggyu for letting him take the blame, but he knew being angry at his friend would hardly help anything.

“Tell Dongwoo what happened, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Sungjong muttered. At the uncertainty on his friends’ faces, he added, “it’ll be fine. It’s whatever.”

As the teacher marched him and Hoya back up the hill to the school, he heard a snicker from the boy beside him. It was all Sungjong could do not to add another mark to his smug face.

No student was ever in the office at this time of day. When the teacher shoved Sungjong and Hoya into chairs outside of the headmaster’s office and left, they were both glanced over by the office staff briefly, though they all seemed largely uninterested in the two, if not a little bored. Sungjong figured the staff must have felt highly blasé to see two troublemakers clogging up their workplace this soon into the semester.

He could feel Hoya sending him looks out of the corner of his eye. The other boy would look over periodically and then sigh, exasperated, when Sungjong refused to pay him any attention. 

“He started it, you know?” Hoya eventually muttered.

“Do I look like I care?” Sungjong spat back, still staring determinedly ahead at the set of motivational posters tacked to the far wall. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

“You should be thanking me,” Hoya replied, smoothly. He sounded happy to have so easily coaxed the attention of his company, and Sungjong hated how the newfound confidence made Hoya’s voice sound, so cocky and self-assured. “I just saved you from another hour of bleeding ears due to your excuse of a band.”

What a , Sungjong thought. Doesn’t he realize he messed up his practice time, too?

Laughing derisively, Sungjong glared at the posters. The ‘hang in there’ cat looked pleadingly back at him as he spoke. 

“Well, forgive me for not exactly hailing you as a hero.”

Hoya raised his hands placatingly and opened his mouth to respond, just as the door to the headmaster’s office opened and the man stuck his head out. “If you’re finished arguing with each other like brats, get inside.”

The office was large, the wall behind the headmaster’s desk glimmering with the glass of more diploma frames than Sungjong cared to count. The blinds were open a fraction so that light striped on the carpet and glimpses of the houses down the street could be seen. 

“Sit down,” the headmaster said. Sungjong took the chair closer to the window, and Hoya the one near the door. 

It was a minute before the headmaster spoke again, building up the tension in a way that Sungjong was sure was intentional. Finally, the man sat down in his heavy leather chair, surveying the teenagers with serious eyes.

He pointed at Hoya first.

“I am more than familiar with you,” he said, “even if this is the first time we’ve met face to face.” 

Sungjong blinked, finally glancing at the boy beside him. Hoya looked just as confused as Sungjong felt, but there was a hint of something else on his face. Sungjong would almost call it satisfaction. 

“I have no idea why you even attend this school, because your grades are barely at the standard of a public campus.”

In that split second, the coolness slipped instantly off of Hoya’s face. Sungjong felt as if he’d caught the smugness himself, like it had been passed over from one of them to the other in a game of emotional catch.

“And you,” continued the headmaster, moving right onto Sungjong without hesitation. “You’ve been here for three months and you’ve already established yourself as a piece of work. I’ve seen your bands,” - he added the last word while punctuating with air quotes - “I’ve been observing you and your lot for a while and you’re all wasting my time. I’m sick of every one you, but I’m going to give you both a choice.”

The headmaster picked up a file on his desk and opened it, reading it over quickly. “Lee Howon, near-straight C student, save for a laughingly predictable A in athletics. The only thing I can fathom being your saving grace is remedial classes every day until the end of the semester, or, and this is a very big ‘or,’ the guidance of an extremely dedicated tutor.”

Sungjong’s skin prickled. 

“What does this have to do with me exactly?” he asked. Though he was sure he already knew, he prayed that he was mistaken.

The headmaster shrugged noncommittally. 

“You do manage to pull As, I checked your records. Seeing as how this situation seemed to line up rather ideally, you have the choice of being Howon’s tutor, or dealing with detention after school, just like Howon will deal with remedial classes.”

Sungjong heard Hoya exhale. Of course, neither option was appealing. The idea of spending more time than was necessary with the other boy was loathsome at best. But if he chose the detention, he might as well kiss playing with his band goodbye. He was sure Hoya was thinking the same.

If they managed themselves right, they could make it so that practice could still fit into their time, and that was all that mattered. As different as Sungjong was from Hoya, the mysterious one, the slacker, he knew the dedication to their bands and friends was one thing they had in common.

To Sungjong, there was only one choice that made sense.

“I’ll tutor him,” he volunteered. The headmaster looked pleased.

“Good. Is the sentiment mutual?”

Hoya nodded. “Fine.”

“Glad to hear it. Get an A in three classes by the end of semester and I’ll let you both off. Good luck, I can already tell you’ll need it.”

“Let’s get one thing established if this is going to happen,” Hoya began, standing side by side with Sungjong in the greying evening light. Sungjong rose an eyebrow at him expectantly. 

“You never, ever call me Howon. Got it?”

Sungjong just smiled. “Fine. But I’m not going to call you hyung, either.”