i wonder if we'll meet again.
will you come to me again.

chapter four.

Waiting for Yongguk after class let out turned out to be a more difficult job than Junhong gave credit for.

He’d expected his partner in crime, Changhyun, to accompany his wait, but Changhyun had make up classes. Junhong really couldn’t be mad at the rushed apologies and promises to make it up another day. It wasn’t Changhyun’s fault, after all, that his stupid tutor had decided to schedule his make up class right when Junhong needed him the most - not really, but the situation was quickly escalating to the dire extent.

In the end, he had been forced to wave his friend away, stopping short by the edge of their school perimeter by the tall cherry blossom tree and the herds of picnic benches near it.

Well, at least the weather was nice.

A sigh pushing apart his lips, Junhong kicked down at the dirt ground, counting down each of the lengthening seconds, dark eyes glued onto the blue watch strapped across his wrist. Time had never been his friend, especially not when he was waiting for Yongguk, but today, it couldn’t have crawled any slower than it was.

Junhong had never particularly minded being alone. Sure, he’d always had his brother hanging by his side, a careful eye watching out for any sign of danger or harm, but Junhong had always pride himself in his ability to play by himself, his fingers turning into action figures and his imagination creating the backdrop and setting to his grand mental theater.

But right now, Junhong would have paid anything - within his ability, of course - to just come and sit next to him to shoo the awkward atmosphere that had crawled into his presence with his - familliar, yet not - company to his left, slowing down the seconds count down even more.

Kim Jongup.

That was the name of the head shorter jock next to him, fiddling with the drawstrings of his gym shorts. He was the prized star kicker of class 3-7, the room just next to Junhong’s.

And he was also the reason for Junhong so nervously twitching.

Jongup and he had never really gotten along. They’d shared the same classroom their freshman middle school year, going as far as to having been seat partners, but the most Junhong had said to him had been a simple hello before their ways had been parted. Jongup was a jock and Junhong a simple nobody - nobody, but everybody all at the same time - of their school. There was no doubt that they didn’t particularly get along.

(Junhong was sure he’d found out more about Jongup through wayward rumors rather than from Jongup himself.)

Despite his smaller frame, Jongup had a head full of deep brown hair - natural, his parents had had to sign a slip of paper clarifying this in freshman year so Jongup wouldn’t have to stand in the cold every morning to be scolded for dying his hair - and a sculpted body under his flimsy uniform fabric. There had been even a time where a rumor claimed that Jongup had was older than he claimed he was and took steroids to buff himself up (then again, there also had been a time where someone had spread the lie saying that Jongup had been born with abs).

And knowing nothing better, despite their past shared seat together, Junhong was left to assuming they were true - or false.

Jongup's eyes were a deep shade of chocolate brown, but hidden behind sleepy lids that gave him a dazed slanted look (in fact, if Junhong were to draw him, he would have given Jongup dark lines for eyes). When he smiled, his eyes disappeared even more, making him just a tan circle with teeth.

If anything, it was probably just the hard layer of muscles that made him look more or less like a roman deity resurrected that made him more popular around their tiny mock campus than Junhong. Because from what Junhong heard around, he definitely had more character than the muscle bound classmate.

“So, uh.”

. Junhong blinked, bouncing a little awkwardly in surprise as Jongup cleared his throat, slit eyes curiously roaming him. He’d been caught staring - had he been staring for long?

Just act cool, Junhong.

“Y-yeah?”

Very chill.

“Are you, uh …” Jongup seemed to frown, slanted eyes narrowing and puckered bottom lip sticking out further in thought, as if he was a little out of the world himself, dazed and confused. “You waiting for someone?” He bit his lip, like he was cursing himself for sounding so awkward.

Junhong nodded, a small grunt clarifying, “My brother.”

“Me too.”

And it was back to the silence, both students instantly looking back down at their dirt scraped sneakers - something, that at the moment, could not have been more interesting to stare at.

If it was possible, it seemed to have gotten just a had more awkward than before.

“My, er, name is Jongup.”

It didn’t make any sense to Junhong why Jongup was trying so hard to create a steady conversation between the two of them. They’d never been friends, but it wasn’t as if Junhong had held any sour feelings toward the shorter male. And it wasn’t as if they’d ever really meet again, once their senior year at their middle school was over; there really wasn’t a reason for them to be talking together.

"I ... uh know." Junhong returned quietly, scratching the nape of his neck, a queer habit he'd picked up from his brother. "Uh, you know who I am, right?"

Jongup blinked, frowned and gave a short nod.

"Junhyung, right?"

"Hong. It's Junhong." Close enough. "I'm in the class next to yours. 3-8."

(There really wasn't a point to him telling Jongup his class number. He was sure, that as much as a stereotypical jock Jongup could be, his head wasn't an actual clump of muscles, and Jongup could in fact actually count down a single digit.)

"Right, cause I'm in class 3-7."

“Yep.”

Falling quiet again, Junhong faked a cough, drumming his fingers up against the wooden benches he’d seated on. As if the quiet wasn’t at all awkward. As if he couldn’t see Jongup nervously his lips and pull out his cell phone, scrolling through a page of old conversations he obviously wasn’t paying attention.

Of all the people he could have been stuck together with, waiting for their respective siblings for, it just had to be Jongup. And Jongup just had to want to start and never end an awkward, almost one sided conversation.

Junhong sighed.

Surely he hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve this, had he?

(No, of course not.)

As if his silent prayers to the every god he knew didn’t exist had been heard, just as Jongup’s jaws unhinged once more in a start to an unsaid conversation in Junhong’s peripheral vision, a red sports car rolled into their school’s driveway, the shorter of the duo younger brothers lighting up.

“That’s my brother,” Jongup cried, nearly cheering, “he’s practically the only one this neighborhood with a bright red sports car.”

Junhong wasn’t sure whether that was supposed to be a compliment or insult.

That obviously hadn’t been the conversation Jongup had worked to making for the past three minutes of their silence past Junhong’s last yep, but the words seemed to work just as well - if not better - for the two.

“Cool,” Junhong breathed, nearly cheering with his tanned classmate, too relieved in being left alone to wait that he’d so accidentally let out a sigh of relief and an uncharacteristic wave of hand. “So, uh, bye?”

Jongup gave a slight nod back, bouncing up from his seat, knocking fists against thighs to get the blood moving, and tossing his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll … see you tomorrow?” The shorter, tanned jock waved, flashing a wide smile that made his eyes disappear before jogging toward the waiting car, waving both arms high in the air, as if his brother would ditch him if he didn’t.

(And Junhong had to admit, Jongup had a really nice smile; even if it made his eyes to tiny lines.)

As he watched Jongup’s form fade toward the car, blurring somewhere in with the red and the lines, Junhong let himself wonder how the interior of the ride would be. The only car he’d ever gotten to ride was his dad’s old Hyundai - the one they’d sold to some college student a few months back - and the occasional taxis. Surely, it must have been far different, getting on some fancy foreign sports car, even if it was an obnoxious red that you could see coming from miles away (because good lord, did the ceiling of that thing just lift off?).

Junhong, for a vague minute, wished Yongguk could drive him to and forth to school on some fancy high-end sports car. Maybe that’s why Jongup was so well known around school (plus his well defined body).

He then pushed the thought aside.

No, he was definitely not jealous.

Yongguk was a thousand times better than some overpriced sports car. Even if it had a removable top and had everyone staring in attention as it drove by.

(But a Yongguk plus a fancy high end sports car - not red, because that red was really starting to burn into Junhong’s head, and not exactly in the good way either - sounded even better.)

“Junhong!”

When Junhong came to - when had he zoned out? - Jongup and the red car was driving off, trailing behind dust and dirt. He watched as the ride spot away around the corner and refocused on the voice that called called him back from the netherworld.

Because he’d recognize that voice from anywhere.

(It was his turn to take his leave.)

“You’re late,” he pouted, jutting out his lip and putting the best kicked puppy look. “Everyone’s already gone.” It wasn’t as if his pouting and whining would turn back time and bring Yongguk to him faster, but he honestly liked the apologetic look on his brother’s face; it made it feel as if he mattered, in the sense that Yongguk recognized that Junhong was more important than anything else that could have gotten between the two brothers’ way.

If his plan had been to get Yongguk to feel bad, it worked - or, at least that’s what it seemed. He got his apology and a lazy arm tossed around his shoulder, the firm guide leading him out the familiar path through haunting school gates. They would go to the supermarket that day, to pick up food to refill their emptied fridge - because the food thief, as Yongguk continuously put, stole all the edibles and left only the expired milk on the fridge door (not even the food thief wanted the milk).

As Yongguk grabbed the cart, Junhong stormed through the aisles, picking up sweets and whatever junk food he could get his hands on; and when Yongguk rolled by his stationed location, he’d wave the items in his older brother’s face for approval, getting the okay to only a few of his created pile. In the market, was the only time Yongguk ever frowned denial.

“Pick one of the two, Junhong.”

The younger brother had prided open his mouth at the statement, deeming it impossible to choose one brand of chips over the other - because both were oh so delicious and should have been forbidden that anyone had to forcefully give up one for the other - but the stern cross of Yongguk’s brows told him otherwise, slumping Junhong’s shoulders as he glanced at the products in his hand.

At least, when he finally chose, a heavy sigh weighing down his heart, Yongguk brushed his fingers through his hair, thanking him and telling him he was being an excellent sport.

(Oh the things he did to make Yongguk smile.)

And through the rest of their shopping outing, Junhong trailed behind Yongguk, continuously sighing obnoxiously until the ban of his other favorite brand of sweet was lifted, running instantly to pick it back up from where he’d last discarded.

(“Told you daddy wouldn’t leave you here alone for long.”

Yongguk laughed at him, rolling his eyes, calling him cute.)

Their way home was a lot heavier than how it had been walking to the neighborhood supermarket. Both of Junhong’s hands were packed with what could have been enough to feed an army, and the plastic bags were starting to put an indent into his palm. Junhong swore if he had to carry it for any longer, the opaque bag would cut through his hand and leave him with just stubs for fingers.

He also may or may not have wished for that red sports car he’d seen earlier that afternoon.

So when the car actually did drive by, stopping just a little way past were the two brothers paused, Junhong wasn’t quite sure whether he wanted to cheer or not. Because if that was the same car from before, then Jongup should be in there. Junhong really didn’t need another awkward conversation of absolutely nothing.

“Hey, need a lift?”

Only, when the window rolled down, there wasn’t a short brunette jock, but a taller, older boy with a pair of sunglasses so obviously bigger than his face. He did pull the glasses off, but even still, it wasn’t a face Junhong recognized; Yongguk seemed to know guy with the proportion problem.

“Himchan?”

Great, a weird name for an even weirder guy (because nothing about this guy looked like he was full of strength as his name stated. If anything, he looked like he’d starved at least half the year and greatly needed food before he fainted).

One thing was for sure, Junhong didn’t like Himchan. He’d never been informed of a Himchan by Yongguk before. If they were as close as they were sadly making it seem, then that would mean Junhong had been left out of Yongguk’s daily life - something he didn’t appreciate.

He preferred if Yongguk didn’t have any friends at all. That way, he could spend all his time on Junhong.

“Didn’t you say you were going to go pick up your brother?”

“I did, but he has dance practice today.”

And here in, was where Junhong had to interrupt, piping up from behind his brother, unintentionally nudging Yongguk to the side. “Is your brother by any chance, Kim Jongup?”

The driver, Himchan, blinked, a thick brow raised in question as he turned toward Junhong. As if he’d only just realized that he was standing there.

(Blind much?)

“Yeah, and you are?”

Junhong scoffed. Had he his arms available, he should have crossed them - but since he couldn’t, he opted to rolling his eyes and tucking back behind Yongguk for his older brother to finish his conversation.

One thing for sure, they didn’t look much alike, Jongup and Himchan.

(Minus the fact their eyes both squeezed to lines when they smiled.)

“He’s my little brother,” Yongguk answered in his place, a proud smile jerking his lips up a notch on one side. “I’ve told you about him before. You know, Junhong?”

While Junhong hadn’t turned to see the flash of recognition that crossed Himchan’s eyes, he could hear it just as well in the older’s voice. “Oh!” And judging the gasp, Junhong he was quite often talked about - though nothing bad, he was sure (there wasn’t anything bad to talk about him anyways; he was an angel).

The two older brother exchanged a quick spree of incomplete sentences then, refreshing Himchan’s memory of the sudden appearance of the hidden younger brother.

(“He goes to the same school as Jongup, doesn’t he?”

“Where does Jongup go?”

“TS middle. Third year, senior?”

“Oh! Maybe they know each other.”

Because to the older brothers, how awesome would it have been, if their younger siblings knew each other? Or even better, if they were friends?)

“So you’re the infamous Choi Junhong then.”

There was a smile in Himchan’s words, and Junhong wasn’t quite sure whether he was glad the conversation had turned toward him. He’d already come to conclude he didn’t much like Himchan.

“Bang.” Junhong corrected, in air between his between, testing his patience. “It’s Bang Junhong.”

What Himchan guessed - had been told - wasn’t completely incorrect though; officially, written across his birth certificate, Junhong was clearly a Choi, following under his father’s bloodline. But that wasn’t what he wanted to be. And he wasn’t going to let a single slip of paper, a petty surname, separate him from his brother. What did it matter, what his legal documents said, as long as Junhong claimed he was a Bang, who could say otherwise?

But Himchan was stupid, he just didn’t get it, the queer look that flickered across his face showed it all, the way he blinked rapidly thrice in a row. He didn’t get why Junhong was introducing himself in a surname that wasn’t his. It was obvious he was surprised, taken-back; or perhaps he just didn’t believe the lanky middle schooler.

(A single disapproval from a man he barely knew wasn’t going to keep Junhong from being a Bang though.)

Dark eyes went past him and flickered up toward his brother, who simply shrugged in return, shifting his grocery bags in hands.

Junhong beamed.

Yongguk hadn’t said no.

And Himchan didn’t bring it up again, instead offering the two brothers a ride back home.

Junhong automatically, without permission, hopped right into the back seat, dropping his bags into the seat next to him and rubbing his palms as Yongguk slid into the front passenger seat. Yongguk thanked his friend, smiling half apologetically. In exchange, he offered Himchan dinner at their place.

The ride was well appreciated, but they really could have done better without a stowaway barging into their dinner.

a/n: i noticed a random spike in subscribers. welcome. & thank you for subscribing.

i ended up changing jongup's surname to kim for the sake of sibling!himup. really inconvenient in a way seeing as they all have different surnames. in another point of view though, it makes for very colorful pairings and ship names.

also sorry about the lame update. i wanted this to have more in it, but i had a test saturday and sunday for my scholarship + level advancement exam for my academy. my mind's been kind of busy lately. if i land the scholarship i'll get ... 1,200,000 won. so about a 1,200 dollars. i think. if i did my math right. need to pay back my mom a hundred dollars for exam fees and i'll get to keep the rest. so. wish me luck?

need to head out to work on a group project now. thanks again for subscribing.