SPRING FLING II

Jongin quickly shifts his glance to his teacher sitting at her desk and grading papers. Pushing his chair away from his desk, he stands his textbook up on his lap and takes out his phone. He hides it behind his book and pretends to be reading while he checks his kakao messages. He hasn’t seen or heard from Sehun all day which is weird because while they only have one class with each other, she usually sends him at least one message about how bored she is. Even more worrisome is how she’s read all of the messages he has sent to her today but hasn’t replied to any of them.

He sends her another message asking if she wants to get bubble tea after school because they haven’t hung out in a while outside of school and the best time to tell her about his grand plan of sticking her with Han if the whole Yifan thing goes south is after he’s bought her something edible. She’ll probably still punch him afterward but she’ll be more likely to hit him in the arm and not swing at his face. He looks up again to make sure his teacher isn’t surveying the room and when he looks down at his phone he’s surprised to see a reply.

Her response of ‘i’m not at school so stop messaging me jackass’ makes him frown so he sends her a very unhappy frowning face and does as he’s told. Setting his textbook on his desk, he continues working on his school work, half of his mind thinking about Sehun.

If he was already confused as to why she was ignoring him before, he’s only more confused now. Sehun only misses school because she’s sick and she complains about how bored she is stuck at home more than she does when she’s stuck in class.

Oh well. She’ll probably tell him what’s up later.

When Jongin slides into a seat at the usual lunch table already occupied by Han, Yixing, and for some reason Taemin and Kibum, and takes out his very filling lunch of a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, the last thing he expects is for Han to ask how Sehun is doing. Even more surprising is the look of mild concern on Han’s face because the last time Jongin checked, Han and Sehun barely tolerated each other.

“What’s wrong with Sehun?” Yixing asks, picking through his salad as usual.

Han shrugs. “When I saw her yesterday she was upset. There were tears and everything.”

Taemin’s eyes widen at this. “She was crying?”

Nodding, Han rips open his carton of milk. “Scary to be honest since we all know Sehun is made out of ice.”

Jongin catches Yixing roll his eyes before they fixate on him. And then he realizes they’re all looking at him, waiting for him to spill about what happened to Sehun.

“I didn’t even know she cried,” he admits pathetically, an uncomfortable smile on his face.

Han stops chewing his fries and stares at Jongin blankly. He doesn’t say anything but to Jongin his look clearly says ‘you don’t know what’s up with your best friend?’

Jongin winces. As if he didn’t already feel like a crap friend. But they don’t know how hard it is to get information out of Sehun when she decides to push everyone away. “I mean, I was wondering if something was wrong but she hasn’t talked to me all day.” He takes a quick bite out of his sandwich and doesn’t to finish chewing before he continues, “And I’m pretty sure if I text her again, she’s gonna magically pop up in my next class and strangle me.”

The other four boys are silent for a few seconds until Taemin clears his throat. “It’s a definite possibility.”

“So did you guys hear about how someone taped a to the door of one of the English classrooms?” Kibum randomly changes topic as he cracks open a bottle of cola.

They all laugh childishly expect for Yixing who doesn’t think it’s that funny and Han who looks mildly put-out.

“What a waste,” he mumbles. He drowns a fry in ketchup. “They could have given it to me.”

“Do you want some more fries for your ketchup?” Jongin wrinkles his nose in disgust when Han makes a show out of eating the ketchup-soaked fry and over-exaggerates a moan of enjoyment.

Yixing sniffs. “I don’t know why you would have needed it when you won’t be getting any anytime soon,” he says offhandedly in a way that almost makes it sound like his statement wasn’t a complete diss.

Kibum cackles and Taemin tries to hide his wide grin behind his hand. Jongin shakes his head but there’s a slight smirk on his face as well.

“What the , Zhang. I thought we were bros.” Scowling, Han throws a handful of fries at Yixing who easily brushes them off his lap.

“Honesty is the best policy,” Yixing says and after a pause, adds, “bro.” He tosses Han a lazy smile and chuckles when Han raises his fist like he’s going to reach over the table and hit him.

Instead, he grumbles, snatches his carton of chocolate milk off the table and chugs most of it.

Slinging his arm over Yixing’s shoulder, Kibum finally comes down from his laughing high. “You’re such an , Xing.”

Yixing stabs a cherry tomato and brings it up to his mouth. “I try.”

By the time the day of the dance rolls around, Sehun has managed to put the rejection to the back of her mind so that she doesn’t spend most of her day thinking about it. She still isn’t going to the dance — it’s a good thing she never bought a ticket so none of her money has been wasted — and what better way to spend her time on a Saturday night than window-shopping at the mall.

Sehun nods her head to the music blasting through her earphones as she picks through the jeans on the clothing rack. She doesn’t need new jeans but she found forty dollars in her room last night and decided she may as well buy herself something nice since she feels like .

Noticing a pair of pure white skinny jeans in her size, she pulls them off the rack and holds them up to her body. She can only imagine how good her legs would look in them. As she looks for a price tag someone taps her shoulder and she clutches the hanger tighter as she tenses in surprise. Raising her head, she blinks at the familiar, overly relaxed boy standing next to her.

“Yixing?” She hangs the jeans on the rack so she can pause her music, take out her earphones, and wrap them around her phone.

He smiles and slips his hand into his pocket. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I work at that ‘Japanese’ place in the food court.” He nods his head in the direction of it. “I was on my way out when I saw you and thought I’d say ‘hi’.”

Sehun ahs in understanding. “That’s why you smell like teriyaki chicken.”

“What?” Confusion passes over Yixing’s face and he pinches the front of his shirt to smell it. He doesn’t smell anything out of the ordinary but he can’t trust his nose after being around food for the past six hours. “That’s…kinda gross.”

“I don’t know, you smell pretty good.” Sehun shrugs. “Though that might just be because I’m hungry.”

His eyebrows raise with interest and he stares at a spot above Sehun’s head, seemingly thinking about something for a quick second before he shifts his attention to the rack of jeans in front of him. “Want to catch dinner?” he asks, flipping through the jeans as if he’s actually looking at them.

The offer takes Sehun by surprise because she’s never spent time with Yixing outside of club activities and she barely interacts with him at meetings. They’re friendly with each other but they’re not friends and Sehun feels awkward just talking to him now. He looks at her when she doesn’t answer, a look of question on his face. How is she supposed to decline?

A smile stretches his cheeks when she nods. “Should we go to the food court since we’re already here? Or do you want something else?”

“F-Food court is fine,” she mumbles, rubbing her forearm shyly. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots the white jeans she was interested in and pulls them off the rack again. “I’m going to buy these first, okay?”

Turning the curling iron off, Chanyeol sets it on the edge of the sink and begins to loosen her curls. As she separates the strands she stares blankly at her reflection in the mirror. Her mind is awfully empty for how nervous she should be. Jongin is supposed to come over in twenty minutes and her dad will drive them to the school for the dance.

She wonders what Jongin looks like. Is he going to wear a suit? Or maybe just a button-up and a nice pair of pants? What if he puts his hair up? Chanyeol hates it when he puts his hair up. She prefers the effortless boy next door look on him more than when he tries to look like some greasy playboy.

Once she finishes adjusting her curls, she grabs her hairspray to set them. They’ll still probably fall by the end of the night but the first impression is all that matters. Though if she’s honest with herself she knows Jongin won’t notice that her efforts to look good are only because she wants him to notice her as someone date-able. It really is just her luck that she would develop a crush on a close friend, let alone a guy who is completely oblivious and dense when it comes to girls.

But she supposes she can’t complain when she gets to stay by his side. Even if they are just friends.

She replaces the hairspray in the cabinet under the sink and exits the bathroom. In the hallway she can hear her parents fussing around downstairs and she shakes her head at her dad panicking that he can’t find the camera.

Returning to her room, she closes her door to block out the noise. Hanging on a hook on the back of the door is her dress — a pretty salmon pink thing that hugs her soft curves. Taking the dress off the door, Chanyeol slips it off its hanger and lays it at the head of her bed and leaves the hanger on the floor.

She strips out of her pajamas — a loose navy shirt and a pair of jogging pants — and steps into the dress, scolding herself for buying a dress with a zipper up the spine when she can’t stretch her arms enough to pull it up all the way. She saves that problem for when she goes downstairs. Her mother will fuss over every little detail before Jongin arrives anyway.

Sehun mindlessly twirls the loose thread hanging from the hem of her shirt around her index finger as she watches Yixing grab the attention of his coworker.

“Back again already, kid?” The man, probably in college judging by how he still has a little bit of a baby face despite how mature he looks otherwise, laughs.

Yixing casually flips him off and leans against the counter with his other hand shoved deep in his pocket. He looks over his shoulder at Sehun, beckoning her over with a wiggle of his index and middle fingers, and she straightens her back at the sudden attention.

Humming as she takes three steps closer to his side and stops close enough to be friendly and far enough for her not to brush against him if she moved her arm, she accidentally locks eyes with his coworker.

“Girlfriend?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at them. Something in Sehun clenches painfully at the word and she balls her hands into fists, trying not to think about Yifan. She’s over it; he’s just another . (She’s not over it but she spent the entirety of the day before cycling between crying fits and waves of self-hate and she’s already tired of getting emotional over some boy’s opinions about her).

Yixing snorts but doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he glances down at Sehun. “I get a discount here because, you know, but if you want something else that’s cool too.”

Looking up at the menu board, Sehun skims through the options. There isn’t much to choose from since it’s a cheap mall food court restaurant but she isn’t picky when it comes to food. “Well,” she meets Yixing’s patient gaze, “since it smells like you bathed in it, of course I want teriyaki chicken.” And then she promptly freaks out because that sounded like a really bad attempt at flirting and that was not what she was going for.

The guy behind the counter whistles amusedly and starts working on preparing Sehun’s order. While he’s preoccupied, Yixing leans over, his hand on Sehun’s shoulder so light she barely feels it’s weight.

Sehun stiffens at how familiar he’s acting but tries not to show on her face how bothered by it she is. She really should have passed on the dinner invitation because now she has to spend at least another thirty minutes with Yixing when all she wanted to do was stress shop and then go home, wrap herself in her blankets, and watch old 80s cartoons until two in the morning.

She easily shrugs his hand off and offers him a disarming smile when he looks at her. “I’m going to find a table somewhere,” she says. Because standing next to you is making me uncomfortable.

There are plenty of open tables but she chooses one in the middle of the food court. Yixing will still be able to find her relatively easily but there’s enough space between them that it’ll take him a while to reach the table. She belatedly realizes that he’s paying for her dinner and she frowns as she folds her arms on the table and rests her head.

Yixing is too nice, and oddly chivalrous, and while it should be a breath of fresh air after Yifan’s rottenness, Sehun really just wants to go home.

There comes a knock at the door as Chanyeol bites into one of the strawberries her mother left out on the dining table. Her mother’s slippers slap against the hardwood flooring of their living room as she goes to answer the door.

And then the squealing starts.

Chanyeol walks out of the kitchen to ‘Oh, Jongin, you look so handsome! Let me look at you,’ and she laughs at the sight of her mother squeezing Jongin’s shoulders in her hands and turning him around to check his suit and tie.

“Good evening to you too, Mrs. Park.” Jongin laughs and Mrs. Park lets him go in order to storm upstairs, yelling for her husband.

“Honey!! Where is the camera?!”

Shaking her head, Chanyeol tosses the top of the strawberry and walks over to Jongin as he moves to the couch. “Hey, handsome,” She sing-songs, falling onto the couch next to him and knocking her shoulders against his.

Jongin pretends to straighten his tie. “I am handsome, aren’t I?” He winks with a cheeky smile on his face.

A part of Chanyeol sighs and agrees - Jongin really is too attractive for his own good. “I still can’t believe how conceited you are,” she comments instead, rolling her eyes playfully.

Jongin snorts. “You said it. I just agreed.” He shifts his weight and a hard edge digs into his . “Hm? Oh yeah,” he raises his hips to pull a transparent box from his pocket, “for you.”

It’s a white corsage and it’s only now that Chanyeol notices that Jongin is wearing a light pink shirt, not exactly the same color of her dress, and a white tie. She laughs even though she’s starting to feel warm.

“It’s not prom, Jongin,” she says as she opens the box.

“Yeah, but you like it anyway.” He leans over to pinch her slightly pink cheeks. He can read the happiness all over her face, clear as day, and it makes him smile.

Chanyeol slaps his hand away. “Don’t practice Han’s style of flirting out on me.”

“I don’t ask Han for dating advice!” Jongin protests. “I ask Taemin.”

“Yes, because Taemin is so much better.”

The sarcasm in her voice surprises Jongin and he stares at her wide-eyed for a half second before he drags her into a light chokehold. “Don’t you think you’re hanging out with Sehun too much?”

“Jongin! My hair!” Chanyeol screams, squirming in his arms until he releases her with an evil cackle.

He laughs harder at the sight of her hair mussed up in the back until tears pool in the corner of his eyes.

“Zero out of ten, worst date,” Chanyeol mutters as he pats down her hair.

At the sound of her parents coming down the stairs, the two teens look over the couch. Chanyeol’s mother holds up the small digital camera for them to see, a glowing grin on her face as if its Chanyeol and Jongin’s wedding day or something.

“Picture time!”

Somehow Sehun and Yixing end up sharing the styrofoam container packed with chicken and white rice, the both of them tackling opposite sides of the container so their forks don’t come in contact.

“Are you okay?”

Sehun looks up at Yixing who places his fork down to stare at her with such an intense look of concern that she squirms in her seat. She hums neither a yes nor a no. “Why do you ask?”

He does that thing where he stares above her thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he clears his throat. “I know we don’t talk much, but I consider you a friend of sorts, Sehun,” he starts. “And you’ve had this sad, lost look in your eyes ever since I saw you in the store earlier. That’s why I offered to get dinner with you.”

rounds in surprise. “I thought you just wanted to show off your employee discount.”

Huffing out a laugh through his nose, Yixing picks up his fork and begins to eat again. “I actually hate working here,” he reveals. “But that’s irrelevant. I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but I’m willing to listen.”

Sehun bites the inside of her cheek as she tries to get a hold of her whirring thoughts. She really doesn’t want to talk about it. She just wants to forget it even happened and she opens to say just that but “is there something wrong with me?” is what comes out instead.

Yixing raises an eyebrow. “No?” He draws out the word, unsure of what exactly she’s asking.

“Am I ugly?” she continues and Yixing blinks. She doesn’t notice his discomfort — she isn’t talking to him as much as she’s talking at him anyway. “Is it a problem that I’m not pretty in that delicate, please-protect-me princess way? Cause I’m not about looking like I can’t handle myself. Or is it because my are virtually nonexistent? I have enough to make up for that though. And I know some guys get weird around tall girls but I’m not that tall and that was way taller than me. Is it the hair? It’s probably the hair. But I hate dealing with long hair and short cuts frame my face so much better, don’t you think?”

By the time she calms down and doesn’t look like she’s going to stab someone with her plastic fork, Yixing has already started to piece things together. “Did…someone insult you?” The question sounds awkward as it leaves his mouth but he couldn’t think of a better way to ask.

Having been glaring holes into the table, Sehun’s gaze snaps to his face before her expressions softens. Her entire face takes on a pink tint after she realizes her outburst. “Just…someone I really liked essentially said they’d never consider going out with me.” She stabs a piece of chicken but doesn’t lift the fork to eat it. “Which is fine but there were other things said and I know I shouldn’t take them to heart because he’s just a but,” she sighs and glances at Yixing, “what if I really am as undesirable as he says I am. I might hate dresses and like roughhousing and playing sports but that doesn’t mean I don’t dream about cuddling on the couch and having a slave to make me tea and fetch pain killers when I’m on my period like other girls.”

Yixing cracks a small smile at her last sentence but it doesn’t last long. “I’m not really the best person to give advice or anything, but there’s nothing wrong with you, in looks, personality or otherwise.”

Sehun finally puts the chicken on her fork in . “You know, I kind of expected you to laugh at me,” she says after she finishes swallowing.

Yixing frowns, just a little offended that she thinks so lowly of him.

“But thanks.” And then she smiles. It’s the happiest she’s looked all night and Yixing can’t even pretend to be mad.

“I never want to take another picture in my life,” Chanyeol complains as soon as they pass the threshold of their high school.

“My cheeks hurt,” Jongin agrees. “I’ve never had to pretend to smile for so long.”

Her parents took at least one hundred pictures of them in the living room, standing on the front porch, next to the car, in the car; it was too much. There’s only but so many positions they can stand in, only but so many ways they can tilt their heads and smile at each other before they’re taking the same picture over and over again. She doesn’t even know why her parents need so many. It’s not like they’re going to print them all out and make an album. And God help her if they put them on Facebook; she’ll never hear the end of it from family members who’ll think Jongin is her boyfriend and not just the kid next door (who she happens to have a teensy-weensy crush on).

“I guess we should just be glad my parents weren’t there too. We’d still be taking pictures right now,” Jongin says and Chanyeol shudders at the thought.

The gymnasium is packed with students already dancing all over one another. There are teachers acting as chaperones standing around the perimeter of the gym, most of them looking as if they’d rather be at home but Chanyeol spies two of the math teachers pretending to compete in a dance battle, a few students standing around watching them.

A hand wraps around hers and Chanyeol looks up at Jongin confused. She allows herself to be dragged further into the mass of students where they follow the general motion of everyone else moving to the beat. It’s not the easiest for Chanyeol to move in her dress and her slight inability to follow the rhythm means she sways from side to side and bobs her head along.

Jongin’s a lot more in his element, being a dancer and all, but he does the same albeit with more grace and fluidity. After four songs pass he somehow gets dragged into a circle that had been formed around some kid who freestyles like his life depends on it. Jongin laughs when he finds himself in the middle, expected to continue to ‘show’. He does a combination of various dances from the 90s that’s kind of cheesy but still makes the crowd of students watching him cheer him on.

When he’s done, he slips out of the circle and finds Chanyeol lingering on the outskirts of it. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes, reaching up to loosen his tie that’s starting to feel suffocating. He hates ties.

Chanyeol laughs as she grabs his wrist and pulls him over the table near the doors where there is a water dispenser and assorted snacks prepared. “Why? I had fun watching you and you obviously had fun doing it.”

There’s a boy leaning against the table, popping M&Ms into his mouth as he stares blankly at the crowd. He doesn’t notice them approach.

“Well you look happy to be here,” Jongin snorts.

Han snaps his head in their direction and Jongin capitalizes on his momentary surprise and snatches a M&M out his hand and tosses it into his mouth. Scowling, Han closes his fist around the rest of the candies in his hand. “What the hell. Get your own,” he whines childishly.

Chanyeol fills up a small paper cup with water and hands it over to Jongin who takes it with a smile. She turns to Han. “What are you doing over here? Why don’t you go dance?”

“Stuffing my face with chocolate,” he answers matter-of-factly. “And actually, I was just about to leave. I only came because my ex said she was going to break up with her boyfriend and wanted to try things again but then I realized I’m not into her like that anymore.”

“Why don’t you hang out with us instead?” Chanyeol offers though it’s only out of politeness. She isn’t exactly friends with Han and she kind of wants to be a little bit selfish tonight and have Jongin mostly to herself.

Han pops another M&M. “Thanks but I’ll pass. You’re too comfortable with each other. It kind of freaks me out. No offense or anything. Plus, I really don’t want my ex to find me.”

Jongin decides not to point out that they have known each other all their lives and it would kind of weird if they weren’t comfortable with each other to some degree. At that moment, the song changes to a ballad. That means a lot of students are going to use the next four minutes to get water and they need to move. “See you on Monday or something then.” He tosses his used paper cup in the trash, gives Han a half-assed wave the other boy returns, and starts to lead Chanyeol away from the table.

When they’re out of the way of the rush, Jongin offers Chanyeol his hand.

“I know you are not asking me to slow dance right now.” Chanyeol has this incredulous look on her face that makes Jongin frown.

“What?”

“Do you not remember how you stepped on my toes the last time?”

“Chanyeol, we were twelve.” Jongin crosses his arms over his chest.

“I was traumatized,” she says but her voice is light, teasing. “You’re the reason why I can’t dance now.”

Jongin snorts. “Yeah, okay.” He takes her hand in his and places his other hand on her upper back.

Her free hand finds his shoulder. “Don’t step on my toes.”

“A prince never steps on his princess’ toes,” Jongin says, taking a step back to start the dance.

Chanyeol pinches him between his shoulder and his neck as she follows his lead. “Guess I should be doing this with a prince then.”

Jongin heaves an exasperated sigh. “You really need to stop hanging out with Sehun.” He makes a noise like he has suddenly remembered something important. “Have you talked to her in the past couple of days? She keeps ignoring me. Do you think she found out I was going to try to set her up as Han’s date if the whole Yifan thing went south?”

She has talked to Sehun but thinking about Sehun and how the younger girl sounded so broken over the phone two days ago sends a wave of sadness through Chanyeol. It was her fault it happened; she was the one who told Sehun to ask Yifan and gave her hope. Pressing her forehead against Jongin’s shoulder despite her being slightly taller than him, Chanyeol closes her eyes and tries not to think about it for the moment. “I’ll tell you what happened to her on the way back home, okay?”

Jongin hums a curious noise but nevertheless mumbles, “Okay.”

Chanyeol doesn’t lift her head from his shoulder, content with being this close to him, until the song ends. He doesn’t step on her toes once.

“There’s no better prince than me, right?” Jongin gloats when she lets go of his hand.

She turns her head so her hair blocks her face. She’s certain she’s red from head to toe. “If you say so,” she says, keeping up their banter. She’s already walking away when she says ‘I’m going to the bathroom.”

It’s the best escape she can make and she stares into the mirror above one of the sinks until she doesn’t feel like she’s on fire anymore.

Having a crush on your childhood friend is the worst.

yooo the tiest updater in the history of exo fic strikes again. long time no see, you guys. hope you enjoyed the second part of the spring dance flashback type thing. (any really bad typos will be fixed when it's not 4:30 in the morning). the next chapter will be in the present time so queen minseok will return.

note: since i'm going to write things from the past and the future, i'll include either [P] or [F] in the title respectively.

fun fact: when i was in middle school, someone actually taped a to an english teacher's door. the teachers tried to tell us it was a balloon. we weren't fooled.