Jongin is sick and tired of everything. People say that’s his own fault- he should take his pills and sleep his hours, and live on through the seconds spent between them. The thing is; Jongin also has a profuse and deep hatred for people, their sayings, and their switching loyalties all the damn time.

He has a secret place in the world- a place reserved for crushed youth; or people walking their dogs; or even walking their partners for a change of pace. He feels like it’s a fold in the world- made for him to curl up in and just exist beyond the hours that cage him at any other time. It’s in a sort-of wasteland, sort-of park, and is nestled under a railway bridge with graffiti serving as a skin to worn out bricks and with pigeons in the rafters. Every once in a while, electricity would rip through the wires overhead and a train would follow in its wake, the arrival much louder than its passing. He never remembered the times they would go by- never tied them to the same thing he was bound- but instead either waited or let his gut anticipate them arriving.

He cycled by after school and in the holidays dropped by for longer- reading books, watching the world go by, or just sleeping there. He’d lean against a ten foot wide pillar and gaze out to the other one, encircled by the river. It flowed sluggishly with a film of god knows what on top, with the occasional rowboat filled with couples or families gliding past. The motorboats were filled with fashionable people and Jongin didn’t care much for them; but when he saw their children wave, he always found himself sneaking a wave back.

There were two places under the bridge he could stay but he found he spent more time this side, and always felt the tags painted on the wall to make sure he wouldn’t ruin his clothes. He’d seen the gangs a few times before and always made sure to wander off before they got too close and started to try and provoke him into one of their brawls.

One day, he was sitting as normal with his ipod in- music obscenely loud so it would block out the sick feeling in his stomach and wash the stress away. A swan drifted past and he basked in the shadow of the tracks above, a sickly sunlight stained his legs but his torso remained shielded.

Everything was peaceful until a wide eyed boy stumbled down the path to his right. Glancing up he took into account the dishevelled appearance and blood seeping down the boy’s face from a painfully cracked lip.

Jongin pulled the earphones from his ears, pausing the music, and carefully examined the boy. He looked his age, or maybe younger, with full lips and pale skin. He would have said he could pick him up with just his hand by how scrawny he looked from the bones on show, visible from his torn shirt.

His lips were opening for a greeting when--

“Hey did he go over here?”

Deep voices called from the distance and in a flash, the boy disappeared into the undergrowth.

Jongin heard a nearby gate swing carefully shut.

Weird.

 

------- (KAISOO) -------

 

The second time Jongin saw the boy was in a cloudy hour after school. He’d gotten sick and tired- once again- of the test papers at him for completion from teachers that had really just wanted to go home for the day. Cycling as hard as he could with frustration, he had made it to the bridge in record time. Luckily for him, someone had taken the door off the gate that usually barred his way and he could cycle through with ease, dipping over the uneven ground and dropping his bike gently on the nearby grass verge as he moved under the shadow of the steel structure.

A pigeon dropped down and flew off in a cascade of downy feathers, disturbed by Jongin’s sudden arrival.

He dropped his bag and felt the wall to see if any of the graffiti was wet. It wasn’t.

The tide was in his favour so he sat on the sandy mud, letting the music in his ears take away his stress from the day. For some reason he felt like crying; however, he also felt like maintaining his pride so he denied himself the luxury. His grades weren’t the best- he himself wasn’t the best. It was mattering less and less these days but he was growing weary of always being second best or never quite there. He found he had no friends that would choose him over any other, no subjects which he had a special talent for, and whenever he did anything at all fate would always spin itself away from him being the right thing.

It got old fast.

He dragged his arms up to his knees, elbows on the caps, and let out a sigh. A car horn blared from the industrial estate the other side of the river and he cracked a small smile.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure shuffle slowly into view. He could tell he was being looked at so he swung his head to face the boy.

Jongin’s brain fumbled around itself and dropped faces into his memory. After half a second he remembered this was the scrawny beat up kid from before. At least his shirt was buttoned up and blazer on right this time. A shoulder bag was also now visible on his right side, along with a glimpse of a pair of full healed, plump lips.

The boy blinked a few times, frozen, and caught like a deer in the headlights. They seemed to enter a kind of stalemate, Jongin keeping his expression cool and nonplussed with the boy warily examining every slight movement Jongin made, feet ready to bolt.

Time flowed between them, and then with a few blinks of those owlish eyes, the boy turned round and went back the way he came, and Jongin didn’t fail to notice the slight limp. Scowling slightly, he thought of the bullies at his own school. Frankly, there weren’t any as far as he was aware- everyone was as weird as each other. Well, some had more weird than others (a tree with a giant smile and a rather annoying little troll for example) but it was an okay-ish environment. He thought of the boy’s uniform and recognised it to be from a local school known for being rough. He winced, knowing that the kid would probably have to transfer to escape the bullies but, in the end, Jongin guessed, that was his own problem to deal with.

Checking the time on his iPod, he sighed and got up. He put his own bag on and mounted his bike. Maybe he would fry some fish for dinner. Maybe with a squeeze of lemon.

Then again maybe he’d stand there and cook nothing at all.

 

------- (KAISOO) -------

 

It never rains- it only ever pours.

Jongin found himself back in his niche in the world as it kept on turning. With music to drown out the disapproving looks from his teachers and erase away his ‘must do better’s, he closed his eyes and tried to slip into the world of fatigue, but found his mind wouldn’t wander as easily as his eyes did.

The river was fast and high today- a tide pushing it further and further towards him, beginning to drown him out from his usual spot and force him to use his spine to sit up. He figured he wouldn’t mind the slightly damp ground for another few minutes as a hauntingly beautiful piano piece echoed through his headphones.

The melody seemed to dance in the misty air, slipping between the fat raindrops that were cascading down and leaving a trace of silver where the notes peaked. He faintly recalled the piece was called Melody and let his fingers ripple through the keys.

He watched his hands, with a watch ticking away at his wrist, and let his fingers rise and fall. When the melody picked up he’d let his index finger flick about and when it slowed pulled his whole hand through the muggy air and let the mist collect on his fringe, occasionally dripping down to be enveloped by his uniform.

The piece had the magic of telling a story of an encounter without any words and Jongin listened until the end before sighing and pulling his headphones out. His concentration broke apart like sea ice and lost itself from his brain by his ears, dancing in the wind.

He looked up at the wooden tracks and steel beams, wondering how it felt to rust, and looked around. The river was pulsating but seemed much calmer and tranquil than before Melody had started to play.

To his left he found the boy in his sight again.

He hid a small, content smirk from his lips as the boy floundered for a minute at being seen before he hastily nodded in Jongin’s direction. He didn’t miss the hunch of his small shoulders.

Flicking back a small salute, Jongin turned again to face the river. He didn’t know why he was drawn to it- maybe it was a natural stress reliever- but he could always lose himself in the swirling currents and darting movements of small minnows in the shallows. Everything that awaited him from the surface was stress of exams and petty arguments between friends that he preferred not to be netted in.

He thought of school; of returning to the same building again, probably running late, with a hint of a smile on his face from the exhilaration of nearly being hit for the thirtieth time that week. But then there was that history assignment that wouldn’t do itself and the tests that wouldn’t take themselves however much he begged them to.

Pulling himself to his feet and dusting off the mud from his , he replayed the song again. He went to get his bike and it was no surprise the boy had already left.

The rain poured down harder.

 

------- (KAISOO) -------

 

Monday morning was different from usual. In class it was announced there would be a new student. Jongin thought of the boy he had seen at the bridge and thought for a brief moment that it would be funny if it was him. For once in his dull life he had the rather pressing urge to laugh out loud in shock, because no sooner had he thought that then a small figure that passed through the door straight after the teacher- and it just happened to be the boy from the bridge.

“Good morning class. We have a new student joining us- please give a warm welcome to Kyungsoo Do.”

A few eyebrows were raised at the foreign name but then again it’s not like they had a shortage of foreign students at their school, Jongin thought. He just felt sorry for the teachers that would have to take a hack at the pronunciation only to get it miserably wrong every register for the next few weeks.

“He transferred from the comprehensive so give him help- etcetera, etcetera. He’s just got a map so I’d appreciate it if you could tell him where his classes are and show him around.”

There was a rumble of hushed whispers as first impressions were made and several girls had already labelled him as adorable, looking past the yellow bruise on his cheekbone. Kyungsoo was directed to the vacant seat in front of Jongin, much to his amusement, and he sat through the rest of registration and tutor period watching the steady rise and fall of Kyungsoo’s back. The bell rang and there was a rustle as bags were picked up from under desks and the groans of people realising what lessons they had next.

“E-excuse me!” Jongin wouldn’t have heard the voice if he hadn’t caught a quick flash of Kyungsoo facing him as he shoved his chair under the desk. Jongin slid a hand round his rucksack strap, letting it hang to one side on his back, as he waited with bleary eyes for Kyungsoo to continue.

“Um..” Kyungsoo awkwardly shifted about, “Where’s art class?”

“What does it say on the sheet?” Jongins voice was thick with sleep- he noticed. He was perfectly aware that he wasn’t a morning person and his patience was a little shorter than usual.

“S2.”

“That’s my art class.” Kyungsoo raised his eyebrows in disbelief, “Come with me.”

Art class passed uneventfully. Kyungsoo was taken under the teachers wing and taught some of the peculiar quirks of the school’s teaching system and was told he had a few weeks to adjust. Jongin elected to keep a watchful eye on the new presence in his life- for some reason he felt like he was already friends or at least connected with the boy. They didn’t have second period together and Jongin watched as Kyungsoo was ferried out by a rather excited boy with magenta hair. He tried not to feel too protective- after all he was rather aloof in his classes and social life. It was just easier not to be involved and rely on the steady stream of music that came from his iPod.

Another class passed before Jongin- he could barely remember, but assumed it was chemistry, gathering by the flasks and the teacher shouting at him not to drink what he assumed was water. Apparently it wasn’t.

Going to the cafeteria, he picked up a sandwich to clock Kyungsoo at a nearby table. He passed through the queue and paid without incident, ignoring the looks of first years who liked to treat him as nothing more than eye candy and a hot topic for conversation.

He looked at Kyungsoo one more time before leaving the cafeteria and heading off to eat alone. His eyes met big brown orbs that opened wide in recognition as magenta kid next to him chattered on about something or other. Jongin thought that there may have been a slight invitation to sit and talk with him, but he dismissed it. He probably just caught the light wrong and it would have been horrendously awkward to sit there when he was the only one who wanted to be.

Passing out of the wooden doors, he saw the kid with the giant smile and his little troll counterpart sit on the other side of the table to Kyungsoo and magenta hair. Not knowing how to react, he left in silence without a reaction ever making it to his face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

-------- (AUTHORS NOTE) ------------

 

The formatting is weird because CN and I edit on google docs XD but yeah hope you like it <3

Thanks to CN for her amazing editing skills and patience with my tense switching habit