You might have gone through this one before, but I'm going to shift it to here. Sorry if re-directed, and this is a double update, do check out 'Rejection' Himup wolf au drabble. :) Keep smiling

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“Walking down a straight line, that’s not really my style.”

I rest my chin on my palm, elbows down on the desk as I watch Junhong stare into the broad back of his recent admirer, Bang Yongguk.  He’s the type who’d rap confidently on a stage, hold everyone’s eye and wouldn’t give a damn about the girls that fawn over him. He’ll turn down a confession in the flick of a finger, and you wouldn’t even know what crossed your nervous heart to turn so weary.

He’d mock you with his smirk, but he wouldn’t hurt you with words. He cuts you deep, Junhong knows.

I’ve been Junhongs’ best friend ever since kindergarten and I swear I know this boy than he knows himself. There’s that longing glimmer in his eyes as he would part his lips, catch his breath as Bang Yongguk would pass him, shoulder brushing shoulder as they leave the classroom. I grin. ‘He got you bad, Junhong.’ I think, and he reads my mind on my face, blushing, pushes me away before I would speak my mind.

‘I know.’ I could read on his face, and I chuckle, and he hates it.

Junhong raps too. I’ve been listening to his non-stop blabber of words since middle school, to the point I carry earmuffs in my backpack. I don’t like how far he takes his unspoken dream. There’s a notebook he hides under his pillow from his parents – where he writes. The lyrics started from adolescent rebel, and grew slowly, into the perspective of the world as he saw it – about his life; about being an adult, and that one page he didn’t let me read – about Bang Yongguk.

What else would he title as ‘The cool kids’, I ask. The one he fell in love with, while I watch how his lips stiffen at the sight of the ill-behaved senior. His thin eyes, plush lips and slightly hunched shoulders – tattoos down his chest and clothes that put him perfectly in his place, in the midst of attention and conversations; I know that he’s got everything Junhong can ask for.

His friends; are those handsome men that are constantly updating relationship statues like all the new smartphones versions, one after another, always a little better; but never lasts. Kim Himchan, a trainee model. Jung Daehyun, a trainee singer. All big stars to become, big contacts, making important calls – but haven’t got a clue what it’s like to stuff into a train in the rush hour. Drive cool cars, Skype chat and meet friends, but never really go hiking. I know he wouldn’t hold Junhongs hand like I had, never really hold him by his hips if he would fall and hit.

I can see him call an ambulance if Junhong had broken his nose, but he won’t tend to the wounds and dress him up, go shopping for BB cream to cover up the bruises so his parents wouldn’t know he was fighting. I see him seated apologizing from Junhongs parents, but I don’t see him throwing rocks through Junhongs open window to hit his head so he’d sneak out to join him in a midnight spree through the town.

I see him seated ahead of Junhong in a fancy restaurant, red table clothes and Champaign, but not forcing pork belly down his throat so he could laugh at the horrified face he makes at the taste.

He’s everything I’m not, and I guess that’s how it had to be. Because Junhong is so obvious, his pink cheeks and embarrassed, nervous finger antiques, they’ve never been for me.

So I’d be the I’ve always been, signing up for the audition – the year end school performance, singing section. I hardly contained my laughter as the council members came looking for him a day before the audition, in the midst of class, excusing themselves and demanding an answer, if he was joking around with the school council, signing up and never showing up. He looked horrified, eyes stealing glances between the surprised students – especially Bang Yongguk – and the council member.

“The audition’s the day after tomorrow. You better be there, or we can arrange the consequences.” The girl threatened and walked out, bowing swiftly at the teacher. He looked down at me, his eyes burning holes into my own. I still couldn’t help laughing, however.

He sat down, apologizing from the teacher, and I signed him thumbs up, and he replied me with his middle. I grimaced, scribbling down in my history text book; ‘Don’t be mad at me, love. You’ve got to show the “Cool Kid” that you have a nice piece of , or he’d never take it.’

I passed him the book, and he only scowled in reply.

But he didn’t irritate me with repeating to me the kind of pain I am in his . And I wonder if I liked that, because it only meant he was grateful I got him the chance.
Because, ‘Walking in a straight line, really is his style.’

That weekend, I listened to him practice without my earmuffs; because I had the feeling it’s the last time he’d sing only for me. The next time, and every time after that, there’d be Yongguk – and he wouldn’t insult Junhong wearing muffs. He’d be the sweetheart Junhong wants in his life, listen to him when he wants Junhong to, probably kiss him and tell him how perfect he is.

Maybe it’s that I trust Junhongs instinct with Yongguk. I trust him with that he would treat Junhong like he should be. He’d have to; when he would realize that all he could have asked for was just; always there, right where he never paid mind to.

Usually I was calm.
But that evening, everything happened really fast. Junhong was wearing the clothes he dragged me to shop with, the new shoes and socks (God, he’s obsessed with socks) he was excited about, wearing makeup that I snuck in from my mothers’ so we could cover up the bruises on his cheek last year, eyeliner which I didn’t know came where from, and lip gloss. His blonde hair was curled and the white jacket that topped him off only added up to his charms.

“You look gorgeous.” It slipped passed my lips, caught my heart strangled, because I hated what was happening. It’s a step further away from the Junhong I knew, who’d wear a jumper over a tank and complain to me all day about how stupid leather jeans are. But he wore them, in the end.

He ignored me, breathing in the scent of his lyric book. The scent of all his effort, desires and dreams. Funny, because I could inhale the scent of it too, like an exotic spice perfume – wild. I chuckled, playing with the curls of his hair. I wonder why it had never crossed my mind that curling would look good on his light brows.

“I’m so nervous.” He confessed, and I smiled, because I understood.
“Don’t be. Just, think of how you like it when I listen to you.”

He broke into a loud, giggly laugh, slapping my shoulder lightly. “You wear muffs, Jongup!” He laughed his off. I laughed along, because for now, I was the only idiot who could loosen the weight on his shoulders. I waited with him backstage. It was only the audition, I kept repeating in my head, but I just knew this was the start of something so much more.

When his turn came, I wanted to stand in the audience. But I’ve listened to him rap since forever, and right now, there was more to do.

I struggled a little with my chest, picking up his lyrics. I dropped the note before Yongguks’ locker, and waited until he picked it up. Junhong wrote his name clearly at the first page, so I knew it would come around.

The way he narrowed his brows at the second page of scribbles; I saw – and I knew things were going to work out. With just a little push from his best friend.

Yongguk flipped through the pages as he got his backpack around his shoulders, walking out of the hallway. I knew he would read every letter.

There were several hundred panic text messages from Junhong; who was going insane because his lyric book was gone. I pretended a little, chuckling. After all, I’m the pain in his , aren’t I?

The next Monday; Junhong was in a horrible condition. He didn’t talk to me when we met up in front of the school, and he kept silent as I said he probably got chosen for the performance. His silence was because he lost his note, I know – but I can’t touch that string yet, he’s upset, I’d better leave it so. It wasn’t for long however, because although his sunken eyes were focused on his feet, mine saw Yongguk who was waiting by the entrance.

He locked eyes with Junhong, and I knew this is it. I nudged Junhong from the elbow and he scowled. “Act cool, man. Yongguks got his eyes on you.” I warned, and he immediately perked up his ears, faced up ahead, and met eye to eye with Bang Yongguk; who – much for Junhongs surprise started to leave his famous friends, Himchan and Daehyun to us.

“Junhong, right?”

I couldn’t help the grin, because even I felt that jolt down Junhongs spine. “I forgot to tie my shoelace, my god. Be right back.” I said, not every bothered I didn’t make sense. Both of them were preoccupied with themselves, and I slipped away casually. Junhong didn’t even notice me leaving his side.

As I passed the entrance, I heard another boy chuckle, voice raspy and drained, hands crossed over his chest. I momentarily glanced at his face, the way his lips curved into a self,-pitying grin – the distant look in his eyes; focused on Junhong and Yongguk in a conversation he didn’t want to happen. He was Kim Himchan, and his smile was exactly like mine – two more people who’d keep thinking that life is for the best and cry when only you could hear your thoughts.

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AN : Inspired by Echosmith – Cool kids; although this is a different interpretation, altogether.

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