One
Peripheral

Hyukjae

Lee Hyukjae turns to face the mirror on the wall of his room and gazes upon his reflection for a moment.  He inspects the dark, messy, spiky hair atop his head, the dark, single-lidded eyes under the well shaped dark eyebrows, the long nose, the high cheekbones, the surprisingly full lips, the defined jaw, the bleak, unhappy expression on his features, and then abruptly circles in his spot and quietly strides over to grab his bag.  He slings one of the black straps over his shoulder, grabs his phone off of the nightstand next to his platform bed, and makes his way over to the door, casting one last glance at himself in the mirror.

Dark.  Everything about him is so dark.

He closes the door to his bedroom behind him with a silent ‘click’, and then tip toes to the front door, slips on his shoes, and exits the apartment.  He doesn’t make a single sound as he leaves, his smooth nature unsurprisingly allowing him to move about unnoticed as he saunters over to the elevator doors and presses the button to summon the contraption.  It’s not as if anyone is around to care about how much noise he makes in the first place.

Alone.  Lee Hyukjae is always alone.

It’s not that he wishes for it to be this way – were it up to him, he’d have at least a couple of people around every so often.  The problem with Hyukjae lies within the fact that he is unnoticed, forever unnoticed, by anyone and everyone – and if he is noticed, he is ignored.  He is alone because he is a nobody, a random, faceless figure in the life of anyone relevant or at the very least worth something.  He is fuzzy background noise without noise, a dainty shadow in the darkest hours of the night, a low and steady hum within a loud chorus of belting singers.

Unnoticed.  Lee Hyukjae is forever unnoticed.

He supposes it’s because of the way he looks; everything about him is dark, after all.  It’s not really a wonder that he blends into the shadows so much.  He dresses like any normal person, wears colors like any normal person, attends class and does his work and earns good marks like any normal person; it just so happens that his face is rather unwelcoming – not unattractive, just unwelcoming.  And that unwelcoming transforms into darkness, and that darkness transforms him into background noise without noise, into a dainty shadow in the darkest hours of the night, into a low and steady hum within a loud chorus of belting singers.

The elevator ‘ding’s softly and the doors part for him to step inside.  He presses the button for the lobby and waits.  The lighthearted jazz tune crackling through the speakers does little to improve his gloomy mood as the numbers above the door flicker with each lowering floor until they eventually settle on a dim “1.”  The doors creak a bit as they open, but he’s so accustomed to the sound at this point that it barely registers as he treads out onto the faded carpet of the lobby and then through the glass front doors of the apartment building.

His subsequent ride on the train to school is only twenty minutes long, yet when he exits the train at his stop and glances up at the morning sky, it is noticeably lighter and whatever few stars are able to appear in the dark skies of Seoul are growing fainter, almost blending into their hazy blue background.  He adjusts his school bag strap on his shoulder and heads off in the direction of his school.

The walk is even shorter than the train ride, only lasting ten minutes, and before he knows it, he is walking through the front gates of SM Academic Institution.  Despite having been a student for three years already, he still has no clue why the district decided to name the school as such rather than just SM Academy or SM High, although he’s learned to not allow it to bother him so much.

He trudges along the path leading up to the stone steps before the main school building, and eases his way around toward the back end of the building right before he reaches said steps.  He doesn’t actually step onto the back end of the school, instead settling for leaning against the brick, west side of the main building and watching as the school grounds gradually begin to fill with more and more of the school’s three thousand and some students.

Early.  Lee Hyukjae is always early.

It’s not as if he enjoys school, either; as a matter of fact, he completely despises having to sit through seven hours of boring lectures and random memorization of useless facts as the rest of the student population fails to acknowledge his existence, but it sure as hell beats staying home alone while his mother goes out doing whatever the hell it is she does.  As a result, he always has a front row seat to the school slowly coming to life early in the mornings.  He just sits and watches as students flood through the gates and fall into easy conversations, some students concerning themselves with homework, most concerning themselves with the group that sets foot onto campus at exactly thirty-four minutes after seven.

Hyukjae finds his attention swiftly shifting from the buzzing student body to the group that has just arrived.  There are a multitude of girls on the outermost edges of the circle of people coolly making their way across campus, undoubtedly to their usual spot behind the school building, their hair long and flowing, their faces expertly made up to enhance key features.  A little further into the circle are the typical few guys that, no matter the circumstances, faithfully appear in the same spot every day.  Hyukjae barely spares them a glance in favor of focusing on the orange-haired, easily grinning boy in the center.

Lee Donghae is the school’s heartthrob, one of the school’s top athletes, top students, sweetest personalities, kindest friends, and, albeit secretly, one of the school’s most broken souls.  Hyukjae isn’t quite sure how no one but he has noticed it, how Donghae’s smiles all seem to be painted on too perfectly, how his eye smiles are always perfect but not quite right, how his laugh is amused but not genuine.

Every day at around seven thirty-five in the morning, Donghae shows up with his group and greets everyone – except, of course, Hyukjae – and then proceeds to lead his posse right over to the back of the main school building, where they just hang around for a while as they wait for classes to begin.  Every day at around a quarter to eight, a few brave girls step forward and confess their feelings to Donghae, who smiles kindly, although insincerely, thanks them for their feelings, and then politely rejects them.  Every day at twelve of eight, the few brave girls that have dared to confess all walk away with their heads hung low, some with tears and even make-up staining their cheeks.  Every day at five of eight, Donghae and his friends gather their belongings and begin to part their separate ways.

Every day at five of eight, Donghae’s circle departs and leaves Donghae alone, and Hyukjae is able to see the fully exposed, tired look in the orange-haired boy’s gaze.  He can see the unhappiness hidden in the farthest depths of his brown orbs, sense the discontentment that doubtlessly grows larger and heavier with each passing day.  Every day at five of eight, Hyukjae studies Donghae from top to bottom, becoming a meaningful observer of sorts, a scientist with a single question: how can one person who is so blatantly unhappy pull off seeming so satisfied with his life on a daily basis and get away with only one person noticing?  Because Hyukjae knows he is the only one who notices, for if anyone else were to notice, then the entire school would know within minutes.

Every day at five of eight, when the hype around Donghae dies down and the orange-haired boy begins to blend in as any other normal student without his group, Hyukjae studies him.  He studies the carrot-haired boy as the latter makes his way to his first class in hopes of finally coming to an answer to his question.  Every day at four of eight, Donghae steps into his school building and Hyukjae turns up blank.  It has been this way for the past two and a half years.

It is quite shocking, therefore, when at five of eight, Donghae suddenly shifts his course and turns to look directly at Hyukjae from his spot.  The latter feels his heart stop and glances around to search for a possible reason for the orange-haired boy to be looking at him.  When he finds that the area surrounding him is entirely deserted and that the nearest students are at least a good fifty meters away, he turns back to look at Donghae only to find said person ambling over to him.  He feels his heart drop to his feet and his breath catch in his throat.

“Hey,” Donghae cheerfully greets as soon as he reaches Hyukjae, voice oozing natural charisma.  Hyukjae only stares at him, unsure of what to do.  He raises a dark eyebrow out of pure impulse, his face instantly and undoubtedly converting into one of question.  He watches as the orange-haired boy shifts from one foot to another momentarily, dropping his gaze for the briefest instant toward the ground before he boldly allows it to meet Hyukjae’s own dark one.  “What’s your name,” he asks and Hyukjae can’t help but feel disappointment stir somewhere within him.  For what, he isn’t exactly sure; he knows that he is entirely unknown in his school, without so much as a single friend or acquaintance to be associated with and the only people even having some minimal idea of who he is being those that call his name to mark the attendance in the morning.  Still, he finds himself a little upset at the fact that Lee Donghae, king of socialization and prince of knowing every single student at SM, has no clue who he is.

“Lee Hyukjae,” he responds, or so he tries to when he is cut off by Donghae saying, “Your name is Hyukjae, right?”  The orange-haired boy gives him a small smile, seeming satisfied at what is undeniably the surprised expression on Hyukjae’s face.  Hyukjae feels his face pull down into a confused frown and questions, “How did you know that?”

A small, low yet knowing chuckle escapes Donghae, and Hyukjae can’t help but to feel the hairs on his arms stand up a little.  “I’ve seen you watching me for a while now,” Donghae says after a moment, clasping his hands before him and raising an amused eyebrow at Hyukjae.  The latter narrows his eyes in suspicion and his head to the side, silently questioning how the other knows, and Donghae only laughs in response and says, “You don’t exactly try to hide it, you know.”

“That’s just because no one notices I exist enough for me to have to hide it in the first place,” Hyukjae finds himself replying, and he surprises himself with how strangely bitter the words sound as they tumble from his mouth.  Donghae gives him an odd look, and then states, “But I noticed you, didn’t I?”

Hyukjae’s face hardens and his mouth pulls into a tight grimace.  “Right, you noticed me watching you.  Great.  So what?  Are you going to publicize it to the whole wide world now?  It’s not exactly unusual for people in this school to watch you.”  He feels a slight twinge of guilt at the personally offended look that flashes over Donghae’s face for the briefest of instances, because despite being distant and unnoticed and alone, Hyukjae is not a bad person at heart, but the feeling soon passes and he finds himself raising his dark eyebrow at the boy before him yet again.

“Hey, relax Hyukjae, I’m not saying anything to anyone.”  Donghae pauses, glances over toward the greater portion of the campus as if searching for something, probably to make sure no one is watching them, and then shifts his gaze over to meet Hyukjae’s.  “As a matter of fact, I’ve been watching you too.”  He flashes Hyukjae another smile, this one blazing and bright, and it gives Hyukjae a brief glimpse into one of the many reasons why Donghae is so loved;  he’s definitely not unattractive, to say the least.

Either way, Hyukjae feels his blood run cold at Donghae’s words and his face instantaneously pulls downward into another frown because no – no one ever notices him and he is supposed to believe that the most loved person at his school has been watching him and no one has said anything about it?  No.  Something about this is not right, and he feels it.  He tilts his head to the side again and inquires, “You expect me to believe you’ve been watching me?”

Donghae’s smile falters slightly, and then he regains his composure and seems to smile brighter.  “Would I know that every day you come to school way before anyone else and stand in that same spot-“ he points at where Hyukjae is currently standing “- and just watch campus fill up until I get here; then you turn and watch me.”  His smile alters from bright to smug, and it’s evident on his face that he knows he’s got Hyukjae there.  Hyukjae only frowns and says, “Okay, so you’ve been watching me.”  He pauses, tries to find a way to phrase what he is going to ask next, and then decides to hell with phrasing it, he’ll just ask.  “But why have you been watching me?”

The smug smile on the orange-haired boy’s face dies down, his expression becoming suddenly serious, hard, entirely composed – and yet so completely exposed all at once.  Hyukjae knows beyond any doubts that Donghae isn’t even trying to hide himself anymore, his vulnerability unsuppressed and spilling out through his gaze.  He looks so fragile and broken, so much more weak and fractured and frail up close that it leaves Hyukjae reeling for a moment and he has to take a breath in order to steady himself.

When Donghae speaks, his voice is low, barely above a whisper, and there is the slightest hint of restraint in his tone.  “Because when you watch me, I know you see me, and I want your help,” he says, gaze unwavering as it meets Hyukjae’s own.  “I know you can see what the rest can’t, and I find you interesting because of it.  I want your help, Hyukjae,” he repeats and Hyukjae forces himself to break the eye contact because damn the shattered look in Donghae’s eyes is pretty overwhelming.

“You want my help with what exactly,” he asks, not turning to face the orange-haired boy again.  He hears Donghae shift around where he stands, and then he hears the other state, in a voice still barely above a whisper, “I want you to fix me.”

Hyukjae’s head snaps back to look at Donghae, eyes widened in disbelief, heart pounding against his ribcage furiously.  “Excuse me,” he questions, wondering if he’s heard the other correctly.  Donghae quirks a dark orange eyebrow and reiterates, “I want you to fix me,” and Hyukjae frowns in response at how dead-set on it Donghae looks.

“How do you propose I do that,” he finds himself asking before he can even consider what he’s doing.  At this, Donghae inhales a heavy breath and blatantly meets Hyukjae’s gaze.  In his brown orbs, Hyukjae can see the doubt, the fear, the vulnerability, all shielded by a wall of fiery conviction.  Donghae opens his mouth and says something as the bell rings, and it takes a few moments of processing the surrounding noise out of his brain for Hyukjae to comprehend what he’s said.

“I want you to sleep with me.”

Hyukjae pales, his face dropping from a curious, inquisitive frown into shocked disbelief.  He is thankful that the remaining students on the outside grounds are too busy scampering off to class to notice Donghae – and, by extension, Donghae speaking to him.  Several long seconds pass before he is able to digest the shock and take a measured look at the boy before him.

Donghae is standing before him with determination written on his face and uncertainty written in his eyes; it’s clear what he expects the answer to be.  Hyukjae is certain of what his answer is going to be as well, because who the hell would agree to something like that?  He is by no means a or prude, but the idea of just randomly sleeping with the most beloved person in the school when he is probably the most unnoticed person on the face of the planet is baffling and outrageous – and for whatever frightening reason, Hyukjae feels a sense of satisfaction arise within him at the idea.  He wants to do it, and it scares him because he’s not even sure if he’s attracted to men or not.

He hurriedly but sternly shakes his head at Donghae, whose face falls into a sort of crestfallen expression.  “Are you insane,” he asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion at the orange-haired boy.  “You don’t even know me.”

Donghae’s face brightens again, and then he straightens his back and recites, with the proudest of expressions on his face, “Sure I do.  You’re Lee Hyukjae, in your third year here at SM Academic Institution, who goes forever unnoticed by anyone who isn’t me and who spends his mornings standing alone watching the student body show up until I get here.  You’re sixteen years old, seventeen in a few months, and you don’t have any friends – at least if you do, there are none here.”  Hyukjae winces at the last part, admittedly feeling a pang in his chest at the mention of being alone.  Donghae doesn’t seem to notice and continues on with what he knows.

“You blend into the background pretty well, so you can get away with randomly staring at people without them noticing.  I don’t know how long you’ve been watching me in the mornings, but I know that I’ve been watching you too for a while now, and you haven’t noticed.  I know a lot more about you than you would think, Hyukjae.”  Despite his words, he flashes Hyukjae a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.  The latter rocks on his feet awkwardly and averts his gaze, willing himself to look away from the determined face of Lee Donghae.

He hears Donghae clear his throat, and then hears Donghae spout, “So I’m not insane.  I know you.  Or at least I know who you are.  And I want you to fix me.”

Heavy silence falls on the two of them, and Hyukjae knows that Donghae is watching him and expecting an answer.  He feels something building within him, something he knows he shouldn’t feel, and swiftly turns to respond before the feeling can overwhelm him.  “Sorry, but no,” he says, and with that, turns and heads off to his first class of the day, almost five minutes late.  He can feel Donghae’s eyes on his back as he strides away.

xXOXx
 

Lee Hyukjae is a fool.  He is a damned fool for believing that Donghae would let him off the hook that easily.  Donghae is the spoiled prince of the school; everyone loves him and does anything for him.  He chastises himself for not considering that Donghae wouldn’t take no as an answer, no matter how many times he receives it.

It is currently lunch break, and Hyukjae is seated on the windowsill in an empty hallway far, far away from the cafeteria.  He doesn’t eat in the lunchroom, never enters the lunchroom, because he would have nowhere to sit and no friends to sit with.  He is fuzzy background noise without noise, a dainty shadow in the darkest hours of the night, a low and steady hum within a loud chorus of belting singers.  No one would notice whether he enters the cafeteria or not.

Except for Lee Donghae of course, who is currently standing across from him with his back against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest.  He is staring Hyukjae down, the determination from earlier that morning still plastered on his face stubbornly.  A dark, orange eyebrow is quirked in anticipation; he is awaiting an answer.  Hyukjae’s brow furrows, and then he says, “I said no already.  Just go away.”

Donghae does not budge, barely blinks, only breathes.  Then he drops his arms to his sides and takes a few steps toward Hyukjae, who habitually tries to curl further into the windowsill on which he is seated.

Unnoticed.  Hyukjae is unnoticed and it has become habit to remain that way.  He wraps his arms around his legs and rests his head on his knees, making himself just that much smaller.  Donghae seems to be unfazed and only tilts his head to the side in response.  “Hyukjae,” he begins again, and said person can feel exasperation rising within him.  When will he learn that no means no?  “I’m not asking anything too crazy of you; I’m just asking you to sleep with me,” Donghae continues and Hyukjae can’t help but to scoff because yeah, that’s completely not insane at all.

Donghae’s face falls into vulnerability again and Hyukjae restrains from biting his lip painfully at the sight.  He is again able to see clearly just how broken the other boy is and he feels pity stirring within him somehow, because in spite of his cold, unwelcoming exterior, Hyukjae’s a complete softie at heart.  Donghae’s brown eyes meet his own dark ones and he somehow can’t find it within himself to tear his gaze away from the other’s shattered one.  He swallows, struggles to find words, but Donghae speaks again before he can even begin to find something to say.

“Please, Hyuk,” he says, and Hyukjae almost chokes on his spit at the nickname.  “I want your help.  I need your help.”  The orange-haired boy is practically begging now, his eyes wide and silently pleading.  Hyukjae shuts his own tightly, presses down on them with a hand harshly, lets out a long, callous breath.  “Say I choose to try and fix you,” he begins, and he finds it almost sickening how much Donghae’s face brightens at his words, “Why would I need to sleep with you to do it?  What purpose would sleeping with you serve?”

Donghae visibly deflates again and Hyukjae can’t help but absentmindedly note that the boy’s mood swings from low to high and back to low dangerously quickly.  He narrows his eyes and studies the orange-haired boy as the latter chews his bottom lip and then, with lips trembling, states, “I hate myself.”

Hyukjae is shocked by the revelation, and so he allows his eyes to widen to the size of the moon and his dark eyebrows to rise into his hairline.  He’s probably startled Donghae, for the latter hurriedly adds, “Well, no I don’t hate myself; I just don’t particularly like myself.”  He gulps nervously and gives Hyukjae a wrecked look that chills the other to the bone; he’s scared and broken and desperate.  So desperate.  And something else resides within him that Hyukjae cannot quite place, because it seems to be shrouded behind the immense helplessness present in his brown eyes.

“How would me sleeping with you change that,” Hyukjae questions, trying his best to not allow Donghae’s expression to get the best of him.  Donghae’s following breath is shaky and uncertain, and his bottom lip is still quivering when he responds, “Well, I figure that if I can’t like myself, at least someone else can, even if it’s just for my body.”

Again, Hyukjae is shocked by Donghae’s revelation, yet instead of allowing it to appear on his face, he channels it into a sort of frown.  “So you just want to have with someone so that you can feel as if someone likes you, even if it’s just for your body?”  Donghae’s nod is immediate and sharp, and it frightens Hyukjae a bit because for a moment it appears as if the boy’s head is going to snap off of his neck.  His frown deepens as something stirs within him.  An odd tightening in the pit of his core.  He ignores it in favor of asking, “So then why does it have to be me?  Why can’t it be anyone else?”

The barest hints of an amused smile ghosts over Donghae’s lips, and the latter replies, a bit too easily, “Because you’re unnoticed,” and then, when Hyukjae’s frown noticeably deepens, “and because you’ve seen what no one else has been able to.”  He pauses, seems to consider something, and then adds, “I feel like, since you’ve noticed, you can fix me.”

Hyukjae frowns, purses his lips in thought, and then scolds himself mentally because he realizes that he’s actually considering what the other has said.  He breathes out slowly, closes his eyes briefly, opens them and meets Donghae’s gaze.  The conviction from earlier that morning is still there within the depths of the latter’s brown orbs, and Hyukjae knows that if he says no, he’ll just face the same situation over and over again.

“You seem so sure that I can fix you,” he says, noticing somewhere subconsciously that he may or may not have just agreed to actually going with Donghae’s wishes without actually voicing it aloud.  If the other notices, he doesn’t comment, but he sees a spark of something like hope flashing in his eyes.  “That’s because you’re different, Hyuk,” Donghae says, and again the nickname catches Hyukjae off guard.

When Hyukjae’s countenance shifts from curious to doubtful, Donghae closes the majority of the distance between them and latches onto his arm loosely.  His eyes are back to their pleading and the broken look on Donghae’s face is practically begging without words, and damn it Hyukjae finds his resolve breaking at the sight.  He averts his gaze to the view outside the window instead, struggling to regain some sense of composure.

Several minutes pass in silence and Hyukjae vaguely wonders if the bell for classes is going to ring anytime soon.  They’ve been out in the hall discussing this for quite a while and the lunch period has been going for even longer than that.  He ponders if the lunch period is longer than usual today or if it’s just his imagination, and then he heaves out a long sigh he didn’t even know he’s been repressing.

“You said you’re asking me to fix you because I’m never noticed by anyone, right?”

“Except me; right.”

Another sigh.  “Why because I’m unnoticed?”  He turns to meet Donghae’s gaze, sincere curiosity etched on his features.  “Why is my being unnoticed a factor,” he clarifies when Donghae’s eyebrows furrow into a confused frown.  “Oh,” Donghae mutters, and then continues, “well, I wouldn’t want the whole school knowing about it, and since you’re unnoticed, it would appear as if nothing is happening at all.”

That hurts, and Hyukjae feels it stinging somewhere in his core.  He frowns, and admittedly allows a hurt expression to grace his features before he hurriedly attempts to recompose himself and gather a coherent response.  “Well,” he begins when he’s got a general idea of what he wants to say, “thanks for that.”  He can’t keep the sarcastic bite out of his tone and almost feels guilty at the way Donghae’s expression falls.  Almost.  Another part of him reasons that the kid deserves it, at least somewhat.

“Anyway,” he resumes, “why would you not want anyone knowing about it?  Don’t you want help?”

Donghae releases a huff of air, exasperation lacing his voice as he says, “Well that’s what I’m coming to you for.  I don’t want six billion people smothering me about it; having that many people around me only makes it worse anyway.”

And then something clicks inside Hyukjae at the words, and a missing piece of the puzzle that is Lee Donghae reappears and takes its position.  It doesn’t completely clarify everything for him, but Hyukjae knows he’s a step closer to answering his question, is a step closer to deciphering how the other works.  A part of him is cheering in victory while another part is burning thirstily for more.  He tries to resist, attempts to repress the dangerous curiosity raging within him, but to no avail.

He allows himself to come to the conclusion that, should he accept to help Donghae in whatever way the latter should ask, to ‘fix’ him as he puts it, he’d be a step closer to fully figuring out the most complex person he’s ever had the privilege of crossing paths with.  His conscience is screaming that it’s not a good idea; that the whole ‘fixing’ thing won’t work, that one or the other or both will somehow end up hurt.  But his conscience may as well be screaming at a deaf person, for he takes one look at Donghae, sees the pleading look the other is giving him, the desperate intensity in his gaze, the small spark of hope gleaming as the only source of light in those dull, brown orbs, the begging expression on his smooth, unblemished face, and he loses all signs of rationality.

Before he can regain it, he meets the orange-haired boy’s broken gaze and gives him a short, barely perceptible nod of approval.  Donghae blinks, once, twice, three times, and then lets out a sound halfway between a satisfied laugh and a relieved sob, and when he looks back up at Hyukjae, his eyes are watery and broken and shattered and soulless, but there is a glimmering light of hope in the background.  And gratitude.  Deep, sincere gratitude.

Hyukjae feels something tighten in his chest.

And here we have the first chapter, lovelies; I've decided that each chapter will switch the point of view between Hyuk and Kyu.
That being said, next chapter will be Kyuhyun (and by extension Sungmin) C:
I know this is relatively short guys (/.\) I'm sorry.
The chapters will most likely get longer as time goes on, but this chapter was made to end here purposefully.
And hey, thanks to all of you who have subscribed and such before I even posted up the first chapter! That made me smile c: (I even got a vote up - I almost cried haha because I'm a loser)
Anyway, this is all for now guys.
Till the next update, Lovelies!
-Love, K