HALLWAY

A crudely folded origami heart slides across her desk, nearly hitting her hand before it stops, and Minseok glances away from the powerpoint lecture on the screen to look at Gayoon next to her.

The other girl shrugs, a half smile playing at her lips. “It was a chain so I don’t know who it’s from,” she says.

Minseok sighs and picks up the blue heart. She has an idea who it is from — there is only one person who it could be from — and she spares a look across the classroom at Han. His seat is closer to the door whereas hers is right against the windows. She used to sit in front of him when she first came to this school but, since he kept trying to talk to her during class, their teacher had her switch seats with Dongwoo. While Han isn’t shameless enough to bother her from across the classroom, he still makes no effort to pay attention in class. Even now, he’s laying on his arms with his eyes closed, seemingly taking a nap. Minseok can’t tell if he’s genuinely tired or if he’s avoiding looking for her reaction to his crappy paper heart.

Looking at it, she frowns at what looks like writing. Her heart nearly stops when she undoes the folds and recognizes the writing to be her own. This is it, the day where one of her coupons is put into effect. ONE FREE TICKET TO: HOLD HANDS. At least it was the most harmless coupon. She doesn’t know what she’d do if Han immediately used one of the date ones. Below her own handwriting is his scrawl reading, let me walk you to class today?

She glances at him again but he hasn’t moved. Refolding the paper in half, she slips it between the back pages of her notebook. Propping her elbow on her desk and settling his chin in her palm, Minseok refocuses on the lesson on Soviet Russia. Staring blankly at the projector screen only works for five minutes and then she can’t help but look at the clock hanging on the wall in the front of the classroom. There’s another forty minutes left. She then looks at the sleeping Han who looks like he’s drooling on his desk. Minseok thinks back to when he was sick and once again hates herself for thinking Han is cute. Her life would be ten times easier if the guy who had a crush on her was someone who was sweet and not unnecessarily vulgar. Honestly, if Han was even slightly less of a ert than he actually is, Minseok probably would have agreed to date him months ago. Even though he has his sweet moments, she’s not naive enough to just brush off the feeling that he’s more interested in her body than he’s actually interested in her as a person.

But that’s kind of what the coupons were for — to allow her the opportunity to see how serious he is so she could fully reject him if it turns out he’s not worth the trouble.

Sehun likes to complain about her weakness to cute boys but Minseok is no better.

“Han?” their teacher calls. “Lu Han?”

At the sound of his name, Han pops his head up with a groan. “I’m awake, I promise.”

Minseok shakes her head when their teacher asks Han to at least pretend to pay attention and Han swears that he was listening the whole time.

She turns to look out the window before he can turn around to glance at her, knowing that he’ll expect her to have received the coupon and be looking for a reaction.

She somehow keeps herself from even breathing in his direction and mutes any internal thought about him until the end of class. By the time the bell signaling the end of class rings, she’s completely immersed in the short essay they have been assigned.

Their teacher reminds them of their homework as they gather their books. Minseok slips her notebook into her bag and slings it over her shoulder. She bids Gayoon goodbye and walks over to Han who is laughing at Dongwoo as the other boy dances out of the classroom.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Han gives his usual greeting when he notices her.

Minseok runs her hand through her hair and pulls it over her shoulder. “I didn’t think you would start with the hand holding.”

“I like to take things slow. I am a gentleman, you know,” he replies.

Minseok snorts but offers her left hand without another word.

Han stares at it like he’s confused, his confidence faltering. “Y-You’re not going to complain or threaten me or something?”

“As long as you’re not weird about this, then no.” She wiggles her fingers.

Han quickly wipes his sweaty palm on the front of his jeans and takes her hand in his. “So where to?” he asks once they leave the classroom.

“The science hall,” she answers. She eyes their hands, taking in the way they look wrapped together. Despite how awkward it is to be doing this with him, she would be lying if she said his hand, palm warm and grip light, didn’t feel nice to hold.

“Oh. That’s why you always rush out after class.”

Their history class is on the second floor and the science hall is on the third floor on the opposite side of the building.

“No. I rush out because I don’t want to you to bother me,” she corrects.

Han raises their joined hands to his chest. “Minnie, you’re so mean. Why do you hurt me like this?” he whines dramatically.

“Do not call me ‘Minnie’.”

“Minnie.” Han leans into Minseok’s side to sing into her ear. “Minnie, Min, Minnieminminniemin.”

Minseok bites the inside of her cheek and exhales through her nose. “I am five seconds away from punching you in your solar plexus.”

Han immediately draws back at the sound of the threat, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “No ‘Minnie’. Got it.”

By the time they make it to the science hall and Minseok directs them to her classroom, the halls are starting to thin out. There’s probably only another two minutes or so before the bell signaling the start of class rings.

“Where is your next class? You’re going to be late,” Minseok frowns. She doesn’t notice she’s unconsciously swinging their arms but Han does.

He gently pulls her closer when Hyorin approaches, trying to enter the classroom. He nods at her when she waves at him before grinning at Minseok. “Mrs. Chae is cool. It’ll be fine.” And by ‘cool’, he means Mrs. Chae is horrified that he decided to take the level two cooking elective this semester after almost slicing his hand open cutting vegetables last semester and cherishes every moment he isn't in class. No one was expecting him to take an actual interest in learning how to cook.

Minseok looks at him like she doesn’t believe him. “If you say so.” She pulls her hand from his. It feels like she should say something else but she doesn’t know what, so she smiles — grimaces — and turns to head into the classroom.

“Wait!” Han scrambles to take her hand again. “Could I walk you to lunch too? I mean, the coupon didn’t have a time limit and it’d be a waste if this was the only time I could have the honor of escorting such a beautiful woman around.” He smirks but the greasiness of it is undermined by the furious red coloring his ears.

“I said don’t be weird about this.”

“Is that a no?”

Minseok slips her hand out of his light grasp. Grabbing his shoulders, she turns his body to face away from the science wing. “Only to the cafeteria doors. I don’t want our friends to see.”

“The fundamental principle of counting states: if something can happen in m different ways…”

Yixing tunes out the rest of the explanation, preoccupied with shading the inside of all the ‘o’ and zeros on his worksheet. He pauses to yawn, covering his mouth with his fist. If he wasn’t good at math, his lack of focus would be a problem. At least he hasn’t reached the point of no return: falling asleep.

Once he finishes coloring in the letters on the front side of the sheet, he flips it over, but the paper is blank on the other side. Setting his pencil down, he looks around the classroom. All the other students are focused on the explanation to the third question on the worksheet.

When his teacher stops to ask if anyone has any questions to no response, Yixing raises his hand.

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

He gets a sigh and a nod in response. “Don’t forget the hall pass.”

Yixing rises out of his seat and nudges it in with his foot. As he walks out of the classroom, he grabs the hall pass in the shape of a wooden pi symbol hanging beside the door and slips the string threaded through it over his hand.

The hallway is empty, the entire student body immersed in their lessons. He’s thankful there isn’t a teacher patrolling the hallway either so he doesn’t have to loiter in the bathroom pretending to use it. Instead, he can wander the open hall, maybe take a lap around the floor, before going back to class.

As he passes by locker after locker, still swinging the hall pass around, he feels the pressure of another impending yawn grow. He tries to stifle it to no success. When he raises his free hand to wipe the tears building in his eyes, the pass slips from his wrist and flies across the floor.

“I would have fought you if you hit me with that.”

Yixing cracks his eyes open. Standing a couple feet away is Sehun, hands on her hips.

He smiles at her, chuckling lazily. “You would hurt the person who spoils you with bubble tea?”

Sehun turns up her nose and goes to grab the wooden math symbol from where it slid past her. “You’re replaceable.”

“Ouch, straight through the heart,” he teases. He watches her bend to pick up his pass, appreciating how the way her jeans fit around her...legs.

“Well,” she starts, straightening up and walking up to him, “someone has to keep boys like you in line.”

Sehun swears his eyes glint when he takes the pass back and, knowing he’ll say something that’ll make her blush, quickly changes the topic. “Where are you going?”

“Cutting class,” Yixing replies, slipping the pass back over his wrist. “Temporarily.”

Sehun ‘oohs’ dramatically. “What a bad boy. You never struck me as the type.”

“Is that what you’re into? The bad boy type?” Despite her efforts, the mischievous look in his eyes returns, this time with a smirk that makes something flutter in her stomach.

She tries to brush off the feeling with a laugh but she’s starting to feel extra warm under her hoodie. She doesn’t even want to think about if she’s turning red or not. “I bet you’d like to know the kinds of people I’m into.”

Yixing hums noncommittally. His smirk softens into a light smile as he reaches out to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “You should get back to class,” he says, low and soft.

Her cheeks inflame almost immediately when he draws his hand away. She doesn’t know what to say, opening only to draw her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Because if you get in trouble for taking too long, you’ll blame it on me and then I’ll have to reconsider bringing you hot chocolate tomorrow.” He switches back to his normal tone and pinches one of her pink cheeks.

The pinch knocks Sehun out of her stupor. She narrows her eyes at Yixing, pushing his hand away from her face. She turns around and takes a step in the direction of her classroom before she stops. Without looking back, she says, “There better be whipped cream in it or I will fight you.”

Yixing laughs, amused at her attempt to stay tough. “Of course. Anything for you.”

Sehun looks over her shoulder, catching Yixing’s eye. “Good. At least you know your place.”

Yixing waits until she rounds the corner leading to the literature wing to turn and walk back to his pre-calculus class. He has until he reaches the door to kill the fond smile plastered on his face.

“Can you stop smiling like that?” Jongin makes a face. “It’s freaking me out.”

“But it’s been such a good day,” Han sighs happily. “It’s not my fault your life is a show.” He tosses Jongin an amused glance as he stuffs another folder into his bookbag.

Jongin rolls his eyes and leans on the closed locker next to Han’s open one. “What even happened to make you so happy?”

Han waves his hand. “You’re too young to understand. I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

Jongin gives Han a blank look that does nothing to wipe the goofy grin off his face. If anything it makes everything worse because Han starts singing. Groaning, Jongin stops himself from hitting the other boy only because his phone rings, vibrating in his pocket.

Digging the device out, Jongin reads Chanyeol’s name on the caller ID and swipes his finger across the screen to pick up the call.

“Yo,” he greets.

“Hey! Where are you?”

Han barely hits (read: completely misses) a high note and this time Jongin does hit him.

“I’m at Han’s locker. I needed to talk to him about the dance showcase. Are you ready to go?”

“Oh, no, that’s what I’m calling about. I’m going to practice with Jooheon so unless Sehun said she was coming over, you’re on your own.”

Jongin frowns. “Why so last minute?”

“We realized we’re both free so we figured ‘why not?” Even over the phone, he can tell she’s shrugging.

He looks over when Han swings his bag over his shoulders and shuts his locker. “I can just come with you.”

Chanyeol makes an unsure noise. “I don’t know, Jongin, you were kind of weird last week.”

“I…” There’s nothing he can say. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t like that Jooheon kid but his gut feeling is right half the time.

“I’ll come over when I’m done, okay? I’ll bring snacks and we can hang out until I have to go home.” She tells him she has to go before he can respond and hangs up.

It is then, staring at his screen, that Jongin notices that he has five texts from Chanyeol. Sighing, he slips his phone back into his pocket.

“Jongin, you’re really killing my vibe with all the sighing,” Han speaks up. “I was on cloud nine and you’re kind of taking me down to sea level. What’s up?”

Jongin would feel bad but, to be honest, he’s glad the singing has stopped. “Chanyeol ditched me to help this kid from the boys’ team.”

Han shrugs, not understanding what the big problem is. “So?”

“The kid is weird! You should have seen the way he looks at her.”

Han looks at Jongin like he’s the weird one in the situation. “If I offer you a ride, will you not talk about your jealousy-fueled conspiracies?” There’s a beat of silence and then Han shakes his head furiously. “Don’t answer that. I still have some good, pure happiness inside me and I don’t want you to ruin it.” He digs his keys out of the water bottle holder on his bookbag. “Pick up your and let’s go.”

(( Han sings every song that plays on the radio in the fifteen minutes it takes to drive to Jongin’s house, tapping his fingers on the wheel and dancing whenever they get caught at a red light.

By the time Han pulls into his driveway, Jongin has wondered if he can survive throwing himself out of the car a total of six times. ))

(●´□`)♡