The next day he tells his friends at his table about his eventful encounter with the freaky-stalker-guy. They all react with the appropriate amount of shock and sympathy, as he would expect of his friends.

By which he means most of them laugh at his expense for a while, then apologise after he stares them down, and try to be serious. This works for some people, but not Sehun, who can barely keep his grin off his face, and snorts unattractively every so often, despite Jongin’s unspoken threat.

But on a more serious note, Jongin is pretty sure this could be a serious problem, so much so that he even told his mother about it and he never tells her anything important, really. Should he go and report it to someone? His mum said not to worry too much just yet, but if he does it again then he definitely should. He’s not sure if that’s really good advice; surely he should just report it anyway? And to who?

That’s why, today, despite being exhausted, he forces himself to keep his eyes open instead of zonking out on the table for once, to keep watch for stalker-Kyungsoo in case he decides now is a good time to approach him again, and is rewarded with unrivalled attention from all the residents of his table.

Apparently they missed him, even though he’s always right there. Somebody reveals a pack of cards and they play various noisy games with them. He can’t remember having such a good time at school, not recently anyway, and resolves to get more sleep in the future so this can continue. Talking to people in real life is actually more fun than online conversations with people he doesn’t know.

His euphoria is dampened when Kyungsoo sets foot in the canteen glancing around nervously. Jongin reacts on instinct and dives under the table and hides from him, ignoring Sehun’s mortified cry of ‘what the are you doing!” and burying himself underneath everyone’s bags. He looks up and sees Sehun trying to cover his face, not wanting to be associated with the idiot under the table.

At that moment he realises how retarded he probably looks, but doesn’t regret it if it means Kyungsoo doesn’t see him.

He stays under the table for what feels like ages, messing around with someone’s shoelaces to stave off the inevitable boredom that sneaks up on him once he’s gotten over the mini burst of adrenaline, tying them together so when they get up to walk they’ll trip over. He doesn’t even know who’s feet they are, but he suspects Baekhyun.

He rests his chin on Sehun’s knee and asks sulkily,

“Is he gone yet?”

“No. Get off,” Sehun bounces his knee and Jongin’s head hits the table, “you’re so embarrassing, why am I even friends with you?” Jongin glares at him, nursing the bump on his head,

“That was uncalled for,” he complains, referring to both the attack and insults. He retreats back into the darkness of under the table like a turtle retracting its head. The table is his protective shell, he realises, with a small amount of glee.

He’s retying Sehun’s laces and hoping he hasn’t noticed-oh, he’s kicked him, he’s definitely noticed- when he hears a voice he really doesn’t want to hear:

“Hey, excuse me? Do any of you guys know where Jongin is?” he cranes his head and peeks out between the gaps in everyone’s legs, and finds a pair of shoes. He can’t be sure they belong to Kyungsoo, but without looking up-and revealing himself, which would be a difficult to explain situation no matter who it turns out to be-he’s not going to find out any time soon. He sounds like Kyungsoo though, just a lot less like he wants to murder him where he stands, er, hides.

“Not really, no,” Sehun answers, kicking him again but not as hard this time, “I don’t think he wanted to talk to you, though, to be honest,”

Jongin frowns at this, even though it’s true at the moment. Kyungsoo scares him a little. Alright a lot, he’s really intimidating for a short guy.

“Well, I’d like to hear that from him, not you, thanks,” he says, abruptly aggressive and as terrifyingly serious as ever. Jongin shivers and hopes Sehun will come to his defence without ultimatum. Not likely, he’ll be paying this back for weeks.

“Well that’s a damn shame, ‘cos he’s going out of his way to avoid you,” Sehun says mock pityingly, condescension dripping from his tone like treacle, and Jongin screams in his head because what is he doing? Taunting him? Does he want to die? Does he want Jongin to die?

“I know,” Kyungsoo snarls, and suddenly Jongin gets the feeling he knows he’s there. . , , , “Well when you next see him, could you please tell him I want to talk to him,” his words have a dangerous edge to them, and Jongin has never been so scared of one person- a real person, film characters don’t count-in his life. And was it just him or did he put emphasis on the word ‘see’?

Holy , he’s going to kill him. He’s going. To die.

“No promises, kid,” well that was a stupid thing to say. You don’t tell an angry, fear-provoking short person that they resemble a child. If he could he would hit Sehun right now, he definitely would, but then Kyungsoo might notice him. Or acknowledge him at least, since he’s pretty sure he knows he’s hiding. He’s so pathetic.

How did it even come to this? He’s hiding under a table, from a first year. At least he assumes he’s a first year, as he’s never seen him around before.

The silence in Kyungsoo’s absence is deafening. Except, it’s not really, because it’s hidden under the background noise of the canteen hubbub.

“Alright, he’s gone. You can come out now,” Sehun says, and Jongin thanks god. He crawls slowly and uncomfortably out from under the black glossy table. There was chewing gum stuck to the underside the table so he’s kinda glad to be out of there. Gross.

He seats himself huffily on the chair saved for him, and glares at his betrayer,

“Why did you have to say all that stuff? You idiot! He’s going to kill me now; I don’t know if he’s got, like, a knife in his pocket or what!”  He starts shouting at Sehun, and the rest of the table turn to stare at him. He’s usually pretty quiet so he’s sure shouting like this is a first for him or something.

Sehun remains quiet, waiting for him to finish, then says, “I think he knew you were there. He looked –well more like glared- at the table just before he left,”

“,”

“I know, right,”

“I hate you. I hate you, so much right now.”  Jongin shakes his head, staring at the doorway where Kyungsoo presumably left from. Sehun smirks,

“Well, if you need saving from the big scary Kyungsoo, you can always call me,”

“Shut up,” Jongin sulks, shoving his head into his folded arms that are resting atop the table, as is common practice and a well-known ‘piss off’ signal.

“Are you really that scared of him?” Sehun asks, his eyebrows quirking in incredulously,

“I'm not scared,” Jongin glares at Sehun, but Kevin butts in from the over next to his girlfriend,

“Jongin. You were ting yourself,” Jongin tilts his head sarcastically.

“Thank you for that, Kevin,” he sulks again, and is mildly grateful that Baekhyun actually wasn’t here to witness this. And then he wonders whose shoelaces he tied together if not Baekhyun’s.

Does this count as harassment? His mum said if he did it again he should tell someone, but does this really count? For all he knows, he was just trying to apologise for being a total creep the other day.

Maybe if he complains, one of the teachers will tell him to leave him alone, but then on the other hand they might make him sit in a room with him for ages until they ‘talk it out’. No thanks.

He texts his mum about it anyway, but doesn’t get a response. Understandable, she’s probably busy working.

He mopes until the bell rings, and then he procrastinates a little more until he remembers that this is how Kyungsoo cornered him last time and hastily picks up all of his stuff and shoves it in his bag, close to sprinting head first into the mass exodus heading to their lessons.

He keeps a wary eye out for Kyungsoo, but luckily he doesn’t seem to be around. He darts into his maths classroom, early for him and his teacher gives him a confused glance. Usually he turns up a few minutes late to avoid the crowd.

He sits in his chair and gets out his notebook, so he can pretend to be ready to learn. He rests his chin in his left hand and pen in the other. He knows it’s not really fooling anyone, but still.

Throughout the hour-long lesson, he can’t stop thinking about Kyungsoo. He’s so ing dead; will he corner him on the way home? Maybe stab him a couple of times and leave him in a skip? Or will he be more creative than that-like amputate him and let him bleed out? Or, maybe, that would be too messy; the cleanest way to kill him would be to strangle him. Or drug him and bury him alive, so he suffocates with dirt in his mouth.

He stops himself when he realises all he is doing is freaking himself out, he had no idea he could be so morbid. Nobody is going to assassinate him, and he hasn’t done anything wrong.

He glances at the clock above the interactive whiteboard: five minutes until the end of the lesson-he’s actually taken a few notes; he won’t have to borrow them off his reluctant seatmate.

There’s a knock on the door, and a balding man with a largish nose leans in. He’s one of the teachers who he recognises as a personal tutor, one of the people Kevin used to see last year; Kevin’s dyslexic, so he has one-to-one help, and gets extra time in written exams. He was offered a laptop for use in lessons but declined as he was too lazy to carry it around during the day.

The middle aged man asks to see Jongin for a moment, and his teacher nods, and makes a ‘by all means’ gesture, to which Jongin takes mild offense. Obviously he’s not her favourite student.

He stands up-he’s been standing up far too much today, it’s way too tiring-and follows him out into the hallway.

Once the door is shut behind him, blocking the other students inquisitive (read nosy) gazes, he turns to look at the teacher guy expectantly, but respectfully. He’s not really into rebellion like some students, he’s just lazy.

“Your mother called us earlier; she said you were having a problem with another student? I need to know when you’re free so we can deal with the problem.”

, this is most definitely not what he wanted,

“Um, I have a free after this lesson?” he admits, displaying all the reluctance in the world. The teacher in front of him smiles, relieved, he guesses.

“Brilliant. Go fetch your things, then follow me. I’m sure we can resolve this issue today,” Unaware that that’s probably the last thing Jongin wants to do, ever, he stands there and watches as Jongin walks back into class, pointedly ignoring his gawking classmates.

He picks up his stuff as quickly as he can and slithers out. The teacher, who has still not actually introduced himself, walks off down the corridor at a brisk pace that Jongin struggles to keep up with. Too. Unfit. For this.

They head downstairs, shoes clacking in the emptiness of mid-lesson silence. Where are they going? It better not be to talk to Kyungsoo. God, he hopes it’s not, that would be horrific. Nightmare-inducing, even.

He leads him into a secluded part of the school that people rarely visit willingly. The rooms on the small corridor are tiny, barely big enough to fit 5 or so people, at a squeeze. These rooms are used for counselling, and speaking exams for the language students.

The teacher opens the second to last with authority, and Jongin’s stomach sinks to the floor, through it and lower. . Red hair. Angry eyes.

Kyungsoo’s in there.

--

ok um....yeh

comment? please, if u dont i might just scrap this whole thing :/