“Yongguk, come quickly!” Himchan shrieked, his raised pitch carrying across the entire length of the cafeteria. A couple of the younger students turned their heads curiously, but the rest of the school would recognize (and ignore) Kim Himchan’s voice anywhere.

Yongguk did his best to appear as nonchalant about the situation as he could while traipsing his miserable way over to their usual table. A few of the male’s other acquaintances were giving the teen looks of sympathy as he avoided meeting eyes with his embarrassment of a best friend, who was bouncing up and down, arms waving in the air to grab the elder’s attention.

“Himchan, I sit here with you every single day, you do not need to scream at me,” Yongguk articulated slowly, setting his tray down next to the other idiot in his small group of friends, who was currently hunched over and looked quite out of sorts.

Yongguk paused, halfway to sitting in his regular chair and blinked at the scene.

Said other idiot was currently reading a book.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Himchan brought a new friend over. I mistook you for someone else. I’m Yongguk, it’s nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand, waiting for the new arrival to turn and acknowledge him.

“Haha, very funny, Yongguk-hyung,” Daehyun stated dryly, gaze not leaving the sentence it had been trained on for the past five minutes. If he kept his eyes running back and forth along the line, maybe nobody would notice that he hadn’t flipped the page since he sat down.

“He’s reading a book,” Himchan informed helpfully.

“I can see that,” Yongguk answered. “The real question is why is he reading a book?”

“I didn’t even think he knew what a book was,” the younger mused.

“Thanks,” Daehyun cut in. He turned the page and tried to look even mildly interested in the topic.

“Do you even know what you're reading?” Yongguk questioned.

“Of course I don’t, who do you think I am, Youngjae?”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Yes,” Himchan interjected at the same time as Daehyun vehemently denied, “Absolutely not.”

“I see,” Yongguk nodded to himself and finally allowed his body to drop into the uncomfortable stool the school provided (and dared to deem a suitable seat for a lunchroom.)

“No, you really don’t,” Daehyun growled. He closed the book with the most dramatic snap he could manage, and shoved it away from himself. To his great misfortune, the smooth cover had the novel sliding far out of his reach and right off the opposite edge of the table, onto the dingy floor. The frustrated brunet then proceeded to tell the book everything that it had done wrong by aiming a string of colorful language its way.

“You’re right, we don’t see. I don’t think any of us will be seeing anything until you man up enough to go talk to the kid. Grow a and go use it already,” Himchan advised.

“I will hang you from the flagpole by your balls, hyung, if you don’t shut up.”

“I will slap you with my perfectly manicured hand if you don’t watch your mouth, you moronic excuse for a human.”

“And what are you, if not a human, a fish?”

“Obviously, he’s the son of the devil,” Yongguk muttered lowly under his breath. He considered himself lucky that Himchan was too preoccupied with arguing with Daehyun to pay any heed to the nonsense running through Yongguk’s mind.

Yongguk often wondered what crimes he had committed in the past life in order to end up with dumb and dumber as his best friends, along with dumbest for his twin brother.

“Oh, look, there he is,” Himchan commented, raising a finger to point it delicately at the object from whom all of Daehyun’s problems had spawned in the last month.

“Oh my God he’s so fluffy, oh my God put your damn finger down he’s looking this way, oh my God,” Daehyun groaned, knocking his forehead against the table in helplessness as Himchan cackled and finally took mercy on his poor dongsaeng.

“You are hopeless, Daehyunnie.”

“It’s because he’s the only person who hasn’t fallen for my charm!”

“A lot of people wouldn’t fall for your charm,” Yongguk and Himchan deadpanned in perfect unison. The former went straight back to completing the lyrics he had been slaving over for the better part of the week, and the latter hooted in victory at finally having Yongguk’s support.

“Okay, look,” Himchan sighed, taking pity on the younger at last. “Your “charm” is built on the fact that you are an utter moron.” The blond held up a hand, stopping the onslaught of protests from the insulted teen. “No, let me finish. You have every capability to be smart, but that doesn’t mean you actually show those capabilities. Therefore, when you act dumb, people feel sympathetic toward you, and want to help you become better. Mainly, it’s because their self-conscience is telling them that to be a good person they must assist the underprivileged, but that’s beside the point—”

“Are we talking about you and Jongup?”

“No, shut up. Do you have any classes with Youngjae?”

“Two. Gym and English.”

“Perfect. Start failing English and go tell your teacher you need help and would like a student to tutor you. That way, you can get closer to Youngjae!” Himchan exclaimed, excited.

“What if my teacher doesn’t choose Youngjae?”

“Youngjae is the top of your class in everything, of course he’ll get chosen.”

“If you say so.”

Yongguk decided he would avoid pointing out everything that was wrong with that plan (and all the rest that were sure to follow once the first one fell through.)

“So wait, why were you reading a book, anyway?” Himchan inquired, glancing under the table at the object of their discussion.

“It’s the same book Youngjae read a few days ago, so I figured this would be a way to get closer to him without him knowing,” Daehyun mumbled.

“That was perhaps the most stalker-like sentence I have ever heard you say. And you’ve said a lot of stalker-like sentences.”

“Your kindness is overwhelming. It’s bringing me to tears,” Daehyun fake-sobbed, aiming a vengeful kick at Himchan’s shin and earning himself an indignant yowl.

“So, what don’t you understand?”

“Uh,” Daehyun swallowed and stared at the textbook in front of him.

“I haven’t got all day.”

“Um.” This had been a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. The brunet fidgeted and tried not to seem like he was very obviously avoiding his tutor’s steely gaze—which was trained on him.

“You can speak Korean, right?”

“Er, yeah. Uh.”

“This is getting absolutely nowhere.” Youngjae rubbed at his temples and took a deep breath. He absolutely hated dealing with complete fools, and this one was dangerously close to tipping him into one of his moods. He had to give up his piano lesson today to help out this moron!

“Here.” Daehyun stabbed his finger into the middle of the page, eyes flickering up to meet Youngjae’s for a brief second before he coughed and lowered them again. As adorable as the blond appeared at every given moment, his presence was far more intimidating up close than it was from far away.

“Vocabulary? Really? That’s just memorization.” Youngjae raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Then, um, here. There. Everywhere, I don’t know!” Daehyun threw his hands up in despair. What had ever possessed him to make him agree to Himchan’s plan and go through with it?

Youngjae rolled his eyes (he looks so cute when he’s irritated) and pulled out a chair, taking a seat next to the elder. Daehyun did his best not to bring awareness to the way their thighs brushed together as the smarter teen flopped into his seat, blond locks bouncing over his eyebrows and brushing against his eyelashes.

“So… pandas,” Daehyun stated.

“What?”

“You like pandas? You were reading, um, a book about them.”

“Holy hell. Are you stalking me?” Youngjae stared at him scandalously, reaching for his backpack in the case that he had an urgent need to bash a certain erted stalker in the head with the heavy item.

“No! No, of course not. I just noticed. Because… because I really like pandas.”

“Oh. Well you should have said so. I was reading the book because I was doing a science research paper on the evolution of the panda’s “thumb” and how it has helped the giant panda survive,” Youngjae explained, eyes lighting up as he found a good topic to converse on with his tutee.

“Right. They use it to pick stuff up.”

“And the fact that it’s actually part of their wrist bone, I mean, that’s really cool. I didn’t get into this, but I wonder if the red panda has a sixth toe. They probably don’t, since they’re so small. What do you think?”

“Well, toes are pretty awesome. They probably want one.”

Youngjae looked entirely unimpressed. “That’s not how evolution works.”

“I knew that!” Daehyun laughed nervously, hanging his head when it became apparent that his lies were seen through. It seemed as though he would have to succumb to an hour of tutoring silently, lest he wanted to receive a nice lump on the back of his head from the magazine Youngjae had produced from the depths of his endless backpack, and proceeded to roll up and hold threateningly in his right hand.

“Youngjae! Catch!”

I don’t know you, I don’t know you, please don’t say my name again, you and I are not friends.

“Youngjae! This is for you!” Daehyun trilled in excitement. He was running across the field at breakneck speed, tiny, soft football in his arms as he sprinted away from the opposing team. They were in their gym period, enjoying a free day of games with the substitute instructors, while their real teachers were off at various boring meetings.

“Hyung, who is that? Do you know him?” Junhong asked, trotting up next to the hooded boy. It was late fall, and the chill in the air was seeping past the thick fabric of Youngjae’s sweatshirt, ghosting around his skin and raising goosebumps. The blond shivered involuntarily, hands rubbing against his arms as he stood paralyzed in one place, far too cold to make any effort to participate in the game.

“No,” he denied.

“Youngjae! Help, they’re closing in on me!” Daehyun shouted, pumping his legs faster. He was making a beeline straight for the younger, and Youngjae had the sickening feeling that if someone didn’t tag that idiot faster, they’d both be tumbling down onto the cold grass. Youngjae would not appreciate that in the least.

“He’s an acquaintance,” Youngjae amended grudgingly.

“Ah,” Junhong nodded.

Just as Youngjae was closing his eyes in acceptance of the despairing fate that was to befall him in the next few seconds, a small, brown-haired blur came hurtling out of nowhere and knocked into Daehyun.

Thank you, God, for creating Moon Jongup and gifting him with muscles that far exceed his age, Youngjae prayed gratefully.

The escaping teenager stumbled, crashing onto his knees and then his side, football falling out of his loose grip as he rolled continuously and slowed to a stop by Youngjae’s feet, splayed right across the line marking the territories of the two teams.

“Youngjae!” Daehyun gasped, reaching out a hand to the younger. “They’ve got me! I’m dead, Youngjae, I’m dead!” he wailed.

“Then hurry up and die already,” Youngjae muttered, taking a step away from the thrashing brunet.

Daehyun would forever claim that the following words left his mouth only because of the adrenaline still flowing through his veins from a game well played. (He would never have picked up the courage to talk to Youngjae had they not been in the midst of a heated match in gym. Confidence was hard to come by when he was only ever noticed during the tutoring sessions they had held every Monday after school the past three weeks.) “Woe me, woe me! I cannot even receive the embrace of a loving maiden at the end of my fruitful life! No kiss to revive me, Youngj—holy mother of why,” Daehyun squeaked, clutching at his crotch as the rest of his sentence was abruptly cut off by the meeting of Youngjae’s foot and his s. He rolled away, hands still cupping his aching groin, and crawled into the enemy team’s area, where they were waiting for him to him to the jail.

“Who was he calling a maiden?” Junhong questioned, easily keeping up with Youngjae’s hurried pace as the enraged blond strode to the other end of the field, putting as much distance between him and Daehyun as was possible.

“I don’t know, I don’t care, and I don’t want to know.”

“You’re looking at me like you expect me to say something,” Youngjae said, closing the textbook with a huff. He had been lecturing about prepositions for the past twenty minutes and throughout the entire session, it seemed that Daehyun had not been paying him even the slightest attention.

“Maybe.”

Youngjae wacked the brunet with his magazine, smiling in satisfaction at the sound it made when it came in contact with Daehyun’s shoulder. “Stop being cryptic and listen to what I’m telling you. I am not wasting my afternoon trying to figure out what it is you want me to notice.”

The elder pouted, propping his chin on the palm of his hand and (subtly) flexing his arm muscles. Himchan had made the brilliant suggestion that he exchange the school uniform for a tight fitting, black muscle t-shirt to enhance his toned biceps. (Except Himchan had put it more like, “You don’t have any brains, but at least you can show you have some brawn, even if you aren’t as gifted in that department as Jongup.”) He had worn his school uniform over top of the tee the entire day to avoid any unpleasant run-ins with disapproving teachers, but as soon as he had walked into the library for the golden hour of his week, his tie had been loosened, buttons unclasped, and collared shirt discarded over the back of his chair. (He had also attempted to rest his legs on the table like all the cool, bad boys in the movies, but Youngjae had brought down his favorite magazine with a resounding slap on the top of his head, so the idea was removed far from Daehyun’s mind.)

“Don’t I look different at all?” Daehyun whined. After four weeks of tutoring, (that was twenty-eight days, out of which only four of them had been spent talking to the love of his life) and he had gotten nowhere. Youngjae still ignored him better than Himchan ever did (and Himchan ignored him quite often indeed) whenever they were outside of the library. It was as if somebody flipped a switch, and their friendship (if you could call it that) immediately vanished into thin air as soon as their tutoring session was over.

“Hm, let me see.” Youngjae tilted his head to the side, scanning Daehyun up and down. The elder did his best not to squirm and give away how nervous he felt under the blond’s stare, clearing his throat shallowly. “Well, you’ve still got the same big nose, your lips are still fatter than a puffer fish, and the excess fat under your eyes is still very prominent. So, no, I don’t see any differences.”

Daehyun deflated like a loosely tied balloon, surrendering to the final half hour of tutoring.

“What are you even wearing?” Youngjae asked in exasperation, glancing apathetically at the wall of books surrounding his tutee. He had been unable to find the male when he first entered the haven of bookshelves due to the masses of novels he was practically buried underneath. The clock was ticking, and being an honest man, Youngjae would not cut their time short even a minute, but he hated losing time because of whatever silly thing Daehyun thought of doing that day.

“I got glasses,” Daehyun explained necessarily, pushing at the plastic bridge and securing the thick-rimmed spectacles on his nose. (Not that they were slipping, but that’s what all the cool people with glasses in the animes did.) He shifted his head from side to side, hoping that at a certain angle, the fluorescent lighting in the library would reflect off his lenses and obscure Youngjae’s view of his eyes. (Just like in the animes.)

“And what’s with all the books?”

“I’m reading them.”

“Really?” Youngjae lifted up the thickest book out of the stack, examining the title. “The Foundation Trilogy. You like robots?”

“Yes,” Daehyun declared confidently.

“I see. Have you been studying up on the origins of root words for the next test?” Youngjae directed the conversation onto the topic of tutoring, moving the stacks of novels to the side to clear a space for the English textbook.

“No.”

“Of course not,” the blond muttered under his breath. What else was there to expect from a student barely pulling a C in the class?

Despite Daehyun’s valiant efforts to distract Youngjae from all mentions of English and pay more heed to the mounds of books and the glasses perched on the arch of his nose, the entire hour was spent studiously going over the content that would be on the next exam, with the help of Youngjae’s biting language and the magazine he wielded as a weapon to keep the elder on track. At last, as they were cleaning up and packing away their materials, the brunet found his opening.

“So, do these suit me?”

Youngjae looked up to figure out what exactly it was that Daehyun was referring to, which appeared to be the glasses. He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No. Next time, don’t assume that I’m dumb enough not to notice that they’re completely fake.” With that, he slung the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder and pranced out of the library, leaving Daehyun behind to stew in defeat.

“Maybe you should just give up?” Himchan prodded, swiping a slice of apple off Daehyun’s plate and chewing it in the obnoxiously loud, disgusting way he was known for.

“But you just told me yesterday that if I keep trying, my efforts will bear fruits!” the brunet protested, pushing the rest of his tray over to Himchan’s side. His appetite had gone faster than the wind in a hurricane as soon as the elder’s suggestion had registered in his brain. It was a rare case that Daehyun gave up any of his food, so Himchan eagerly began to devour the pizza and the chips, grease painting his lips in a sheen of gloss. Jongup, who had been discreetly watching from his own seat next to Junhong and one down from Youngjae on the other side of the cafeteria, made a mental note to buy Himchan some strawberry lip-gloss in the very near future.

“I was reciting the lines from the play I’m getting ready to perform in theatre class. Do you really think I could spout that kind of crap? Only Yongguk can handle all that weird poetic stuff. Anyway, it’s not like you even know that Youngjae is gay.”

“There is no way that someone so cute can be straight,” Daehyun reasoned.

“There’s no logic in that statement whatsoever. I mean, Jongup doesn’t even know if Youngjae is gay, and Jongup is Youngjae’s best friend.”

“Jongup doesn’t know anything in the first place,” the younger countered. He rubbed at his eyes and fiddled with the pair of fake glasses in his hands. They had been his last hope, and even that plan had sadly been flushed down the toilet, along with all of his dreams of holding Youngjae’s soft, small hands in his, of feeling the other’s lips against his own, or the familiarity of embracing the blond in a warm hug.

In the past three months that the Youngjae fiasco had spanned, Yongguk had been all but ignored in favor of the development of an alternate way of impressing the object of Daehyun’s affections every lunch period. He had observed the failure of every single idea, never considering that perhaps it would be wise to step in and set his youngest friend on the right track. After all, what did he, as a quiet, moralistic rapper with the voice of a bear, know about love? But now, with the lovesick brunet falling into a pit of darkness, rejected from the light of love and acknowledgment, Yongguk felt the need to support him.

“Daehyun, maybe you should consider just asking him to go out with you. If you’re ready to give up, that means you’ve got nothing to lose, right? Try it, and see what happens. Some people don’t like flashy attempts at garnering their attention, they like a more calm approach to things. If he likes you, then he likes you for everything that you already are. You don’t need to try and be any more than who you are inside, and I think he’ll appreciate that.”

For the longest moment that had ever passed between the trio, silence reigned. Both Himchan and Daehyun had surprise painted in abundance over their features as they tried to comprehend the levelheaded words. That had been one of the longest speeches Yongguk had ever delivered, but just as all the rest, it came with a meaning far beyond what had been said, that simpletons such as them could never hope to grasp.

“Uh, yeah, what Yongguk said. Just go for it, Daehyun! We’re right behind you!” Sensing the need for a slightly less eloquent push, Himchan nudged the brunet, placing an encouraging hand on his shoulder. “He’s right there, just go ask him.”

“In front of all of his friends?” Daehyun stood, still rather bewildered. He awkwardly stared at the table in question, mentally preparing himself for the humiliation he was about to face. He was almost positive that Youngjae would decline (politely, of course, because that was the person Youngjae was in these kinds of situations) and he’d be heartbroken for the rest of this year and the next. He’d never be able to meet the younger’s gaze again, would probably avoid walking down a hallway where he knew there was a chance of seeing the boy, and would most likely just bury himself in his room and become the world’s most secluded hermit.

“Yes. Would you rather do it in front of the whole school? Jongup will just smile no matter what, so you don’t have to worry. I’m pretty sure Junhong is at least a little less oblivious than your crush, he probably thought this would happen sooner or later. The faster you get it over with, the faster you can go on a date with him. Now, off you go.” Himchan shoved him forward none too gently, starting off Daehyun’s walk of doom with an ungraceful stagger.

The teen paused, his lips and inhaling deeply through his nose. He let out the breath through his mouth and strode purposefully over to the round table in the very corner of the lunchroom, hands shoved into his back pockets to hide the tremors running through his fingers. He stopped next to Jongup, getting as close to Youngjae, who was protected on either side by his friends, as was possible, and opened his mouth.

“Yes?” Junhong spoke up in place of the blond once it became apparent that Daehyun was currently doing a splendid imitation of a fish, what with the way he was opening and closing his mouth, at a loss for words.

“Uh,” the elder managed, looking back at Himchan and Yongguk in panic. Himchan glared and mouthed something along the lines of “don’t you dare come back here until you ask him,” and the other made little shooing motions with one hand, the other held up in the traditional gesture for “fighting!”

Youngjae raised his gaze to the heavens, as if asking whatever deity ruled the skies why he had ever bothered to associate with this persistent moron.

“Um, Youngjae. So, er, I’ve done God knows how many things to get you to notice me, and none of them seem to work. I don’t know if you’re just really ignorant, or you’re doing it on purpose to act hard to get, or maybe you’re doing it because you don’t want to lead me on, but if I don’t say this now, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Get on with it,” Junhong snapped, inconspicuously pinched Youngjae’s arm to remind him to school the mildly excited look on his features into something more offhand.

“Youngjae, I really like you. I’d do a thousand things if it means I’ll get even a minute of your time. Will you go out with me?”

“Jesus, Daehyun, I knew you weren’t exactly the smartest person, but I didn’t think you were this dumb. What took you so long?” Youngjae asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Jongup’s grin grew ever wider, and Junhong displayed the eye-roll he had copied and perfected from his hyung.

“What?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to grow a pair and ask me. At the rate we were going, I figured it would never happen. Next time, instead of spending so much time thinking up ways to impress me, hurry up and get to the point.”

“So, um, does this mean it’s a yes?” Daehyun inquired hesitantly, reluctant to let himself celebrate until he had a concrete answer.

“Of course it’s a yes, you idiot.”

“Oh. Oh. Okay. That—that’s really good. Really, really good. Um, so when are you available?”

Youngjae held out his hand, palm up, expectantly. “Give me your phone,” he ordered. Daehyun hastened to comply, nearly dropping the device as he tugged it out of his pocket and placed it obediently in the offered hand. “Why don’t you call me when you’ve got yourself sorted out, and we can discuss the details in private, instead of in front of my friends?” he suggested, returning the cell phone to its owner after inputting his contact information.

“O-Okay. Yeah, sure. Definitely,” Daehyun nodded frantically, looking like a comical bobble-head and earning him a worn-out sigh from the object of his affections. He finally allowed himself to grin joyfully, backing away from the table and the younger trio with a hesitant wave.

He had a lot of proper planning to do for the weekend. (Himchan could finally put himself to good use and find him a fashionable outfit.)

a/n: wtf did I just write
this is precisely why I do not write humor.
never again.
ever.
happy anniversary Carebear, I love you so much! (pls mosey on over and read my blog post ((Carrie only)) if you haven't yet :3)

I hope you enjoyed this pathetic excuse for idek what
-Jess