A hand holding onto a Java Chip Mocha Frappe, the other wraps loose fingers around an iPhone. Sehun tucks his left arm out of the bag strap and brings his backpack to the front, dropping his iPhone in a small compartment. He sighs as he feels the absence of weight in his now-empty hands. Sometimes, alone time is all he really needs (and a Venti-sized frappe because why order anything smaller when it’s Starbucks, helloooo?).

Sehun fixes his snapback to block the glaring sun out and lets his legs take him anywhere on the campus. He reaches the grandstand that situates in front of a soccer field, watching students cover laps on the track field as he drops his backpack on the dusty concrete ground. The smell of rubber and synthetic grass fills his nose, and the heat curls uncomfortably around his neck. He curses mentally at his choice of getup today – denim jeans and a thick Mario hoodie that should be deemed illegal in such weather.

Despite the discomfort, he settles down on one of the large stairs and sips on his drink. The small bits of ice have melted away, leaving a glob of melted whipped cream floating on the blend of coffee and chocolate chips. His mouth turns down in disapproval. He likes the crunch of ice bits in his drink.

For god knows how long, he sits in the same spot, switching positions when his back starts to ache. The plastic cup lies empty beside him, but he has no intentions to head to class because he is what he calls himself, the “YOLO Master”, much to his friends’ embarrassment (Jongin had shrivelled up in disgust before crawling away to the nearest washroom to ponder on his choice of friends. Tao had stared at him for a whole solid minute before giving him a few pats on his shoulder sympathetically). Well, actually he just wants to stare at a disgustingly adorable soccer player darting around the field.

Just for a little while more, he tells himself or anyone who actually believes that.

To his horror, a soccer ball (kicked by some goon whom Sehun, in that split second, wonders who the allowed him to set foot on the field?) comes flying straight for his face. He manages to duck his head just in time for the ball to whoosh past his head, and he straightens up, giving himself a mental pat on the back. His satisfaction does not last long because an ominous sound of a bump against the wall echoes into his eardrums before his head snaps forward from the force of the rebound of the soccer ball.

He might be able to remember cursing Newton in his head if he is not splayed out on the concrete ground, groaning about the sharp pain at the back of his head.

Before Sehun can compose himself (and maybe fix that snapback which is turned at an awkward angle, awarding him even more Loser points), quick footsteps approach him and probably as Lady Luck’s way of apologising, the world’s Most Beautiful Face hovers above his. He convinces himself to close his mouth and proceeds to stare back at concerned eyes in awe.

 I think I have a concussion, this can’t be real, Sehun thinks.

“Um, are you okay?” Wow, is he an angel? The ring of sunlight around his head must be his halo.

“And in this moment, I knew we are perfect.” Sehun says dreamily. I think this is a title of a fan-fiction that I’ve read somewhere but I can’t remember.

“…Excuse me?” The boy frowns in confusion, seemingly doubtful of what he has just heard. Oh dear god, Oh Sehun, you might want to get up and shut up.

Sehun scrambles up and the boy moves away with that wretched soccer ball wedged between his arm and hip. He straightens his snapback hastily and picks up the toppled plastic cup self-consciously under the gaze of the latter.

“It’s okay,” Sehun croaks out, and he clears his throat in embarrassment. “It doesn’t hurt a lot.” Because the back of my head actually feels numb right now.      

The boy seems to contemplate for a while and probes again, “Really? You don’t need the school nurse or anything?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’m fine, really.” Sehun mentally chides himself for lying, but hey, a man got to keep up with whatever that is left of his image.

He picks up his backpack, ready to dart out of the grandstand from the horribly awkward (not to mention, absolutely embarrassing) situation. When he nods at the soccer player as a form of gratitude and goodbye, the latter places a firm grip on his arm. Sehun swears he can feel sparks. It must be love.

Turning to the boy with a half-expectant and curious expression, the soccer player starts hesitantly, “Actually, can you give me your number?”

The pace of the drumming of his heart against his ribcage quickens, and Sehun gives an unbelieving “Huh?”

“I mean, you’re kinda cool so if you want, we can be friends?” The soccer player replies, clearly abashed judging from the tinge of red blooming on his chubby cheeks.

“Sure! I’m Oh Sehun.” Sehun gives a friendly smile and receives a Samsung phone from the shorter boy. He thinks he is having trouble breathing but tries to keep his hands from shaking too much as he keys in his number into the phone. Sehun considers using Parkinson’s Disease as an excuse…never mind.

“Luhan,” the boy tells him with a bright smile and takes his phone when Sehun offers it back. A few seconds of silence is just sufficient for two strangers to grow uncomfortable with awkwardness and the ground suddenly seems Very Interesting.

“Hmm, so I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, sure.” Sehun steps away and raises his hand to wave goodbye.

However, his hand collides with the snapback bill and he ends up flipping it off his head. He promptly escapes to his dorm and curls up in bed. I’m diagnosed with the Loser syndrome, he thinks sadly.

But at least senpai noticed him, Sehun smiles gleefully.

(1,022 words)

a/n:

-this was originally a 1.5k++ fic which i stopped halfway, but i didn't know how to continue so.....

-back after months of disgusting exams yoohoo

-comment/subscribe/upvote to show your love :*