37. JUN-HO

All significant days in people’s lives start off like any other. On the day you’re fired from your job, on the day you meet the love of your life, on the day you get hit by a bus; everything feels normal until that strange thing actually happens. There is no such thing as a sixth sense. There is no such thing as a gut feeling. Everything is normal, until it isn’t.

Today starts off like any other school day.

Just like the rule, Kyungsoo doesn’t even really think anything is wrong until it actually is, until he’s actually seen him - in the flesh and wandering the halls without a care in the world.

Jun-Ho.

Suddenly, things start to make sense. Kyungsoo recalls in vivid detail the way that Chin Ho had responded to him before, to his “well, he isn’t here anymore.” He’d not noticed at the time how strange a look Chin Ho had adopted, and how distant his next intonation had been - the staleness of a half-hearted agreement clear and potent. Kyungsoo hadn’t questioned it at the time, but he wishes now that he had.

In fact, he’s so shocked by seeing the boy that he doesn’t even have the time nor the sense to hide until it’s too late; Jun-Ho’s eyes meet his, and Kyungsoo freezes in place like that, in the middle of the school corridor, heart pounding ferociously in his ears.

Kyungsoo doesn’t know what his face is showing just then, but he’s sure it isn’t an invitation. Jun-Ho, though, approaches as if Kyungsoo has called out to him directly, his steps fast and purposeful and smile wide. And that smile - Kyungsoo remembers aching over that smile, fixating on the curve of those lips. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to forget the way that smile made him feel back then, even if it’s appearance now feels unnatural, makes him tense when it could once relax him like nothing else.

“Kyungsoo! Long time no see!” Jun-Ho finally says when he’s mere metres away, his tone loud and boisterous, dripping with a faux-amiability that makes something coil nastily in the pit of Kyungsoo’s stomach. The callousness, the disregard he portrays as he stands before him, is unashamed in ways that Kyungsoo didn’t know the boy possible. Even if he’d sometimes envisaged this day, tormented himself over the possibility that Jun Ho - the boy who outed him - would return, this encounter, the make and style of it, is one Kyungsoo never could have been prepared for.

But then maybe it would’ve always been like this. Maybe it didn’t matter that the meeting is so cruel, for maybe Kyungsoo would’ve felt this bad and sick no matter what the circumstances: met with the boy who changed the entire course of his school life. Kyungsoo thinks back now on those years - years he will never forget, and that he will never get back, years of torment and humiliation and loneliness - and his body is suddenly fuelled by an anger he didn’t realise he held within himself.

“Stop,” he hears himself say, though it barely sounds like him even to his own ears.

Jun-Ho’s smile stays on, but it quivers for the briefest of moments. He forces a laugh, “what?”

Kyungsoo only shakes his head this time, barely able to speak, and he doesn’t know how he looks until Jun-Ho’s bright expression dwindles again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” The boy asks, eyes scanning shrewdly over Kyungsoo’s features.

“Why am I looking at you like that?” Kyungsoo repeats numbly, almost laughing as tears pool fast in his eyes. Through the blur he stares at the boy before him, a mix of anger and sadness coursing through his system. “You- you know why.” He counteracts, almost trembling at this point.

Jun-Ho’s face has changed: his amiable facade has dropped from Kyungsoo’s response to him, and his expression is now twisted with poorly-contained anger. “Kyungsoo-“ he says, almost as a warning, but Kyungsoo interrupts.

“You outted me,” he states, a tear rolling down his cheek even as he continues to stare at the boy before him with fury in the furrow of his brow. “You lied, and you outted me.” He reiterates.

Jun-Ho’s glare darkens, “hey, now,” and he tries to move forward, but Kyungsoo steps back immediately, gaze not straying from the boy’s face.

“It’s the one thing I was supposed to have,” he says it without even thinking, says it from something within himself he’s never visited before, and it all comes out before he can even register it. “It was the one thing that was mine. I was supposed to decide,” he emphasises. “And you- you took that away from me.”

Kyungsoo says, breathing heavily at the words. Honestly, Kyungsoo has never thought too much over the actual events of his coming out, not let those emotions really sink in, to the point where his own words come out as a surprise; it’s something he’s never really considered or thought about - that his biggest regret, his biggest anger about that time had not been the lie, the false story spread through the school by this boy, but had been the fact that it had been entirely out of his control. He’d never allowed it, never accepted it, and yet this thing, this privatething about himself had been proclaimed as if it were something casual, as if Kyungsoo meant nothing. “You did that,” Kyungsoo breathes, the accusation coming out louder and fiercer than any of his words before. “You took that away from me.”

“Hey,” the man speaks the word like it’s a threat, this time reaching a hand out as if to touch Kyungsoo, but Kyungsoo reels back again, like he’s been burnt, stumbling over his own feet in an uncoordinated retreat.

Jun Ho laughs - a mean, incredulous laugh that reverberates unpleasantly through Kyungsoo’s bones - sneering at Kyungsoo with something vicious in his gaze.

“Why are you cringing away?” He spits the words, and though a crowd had been building before, it seems to only thicken at the words, more people stilling to watch. “Surely, I should be the one to cringe back like that? Surely, you’re the disgusting one?!” He yells this last bit, angry lines prickling over his skin like nettles on a plant. Kyungsoo flinches, remembering the last time he’d seen that cruel expression, those biting words he’s still not been able to forget today - his biggest insecurity, crafted and worsened by this boy who stands shamelessly before him today.

“For one, I can’t believe you thought I’d find you beautiful.”

“Jun Ho,” Kyungsoo evokes the word like it’s a swear, like he doesn’t want it in his mouth longer than it needs be, for this is the man who had broken his heart and outed his biggest secret when he was too young for either. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“And I know that too.”

Kyungsoo whips around to the voice, and he blinks in surprise and through his tears at Chin Ho who stands a few feet away, staring directly Jun-Ho’s way with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Chin Ho?” Jun Ho questions.

Kyungsoo hesitates, but of course they’d know one another - they’d all been in the same year group at one point, and the two of them could easily have had classes together. Still, it felt strange in explicable ways to think that the two people in Kyungsoo’s life who collectively made his life hell for many years could possibly know one another, and maybe even have been friends.

In any case, Jun Ho seems as surprised by Chin Ho’s presence as Kyungsoo. “God, it’s been years! What are you doing here?” He questions, a smile stretching over his features and eyes brightening Chin Ho’s way.

But Chin Ho doesn’t match the welcome. Instead, his expression stays hard with resolve, and, when he speaks, his words come out icy cold. “Jun, I think you owe someone an apology.”

Jun Ho’s expression falters. “What?” Something flashes in his eyes then, and he looks at Kyungsoo, then back at Chin Ho, gaze darting in disbelief. “Him?” He evokes, incredulous. “An apology? Why should I apologise after what he did to me?”

Kyungsoo feels dizzy, and he can’t find anything in himself to riposte anymore, but he doesn’t have to.

“I’ll repeat,” the leader says, voice firm and hard like ice. “Apologise.”

“I’ll repeat,” Jun-Ho looks almost manic now. “I am not the one who should be apologising.”

Chin-Ho is silent for a moment, his eyes locked to Jun-Ho and his trembling form. Kyungsoo is acutely aware of the crowd surrounding them, their attentions all fixated to this confrontation.

In the stillness, Chin-Ho’s sigh is loud, and fills the space of the corridor.

“Fine,” he tugs down his backpack from his shoulder, ping the biggest pocket in a swift movement. “I really wasn’t going to do this in front of everybody, wasn’t going to stoop to your ty level, but hey,” he pauses as he finds whatever he’s looking for, and pulls a stack of papers out of his bag for everyone to see, “youdecided to keep being a dickhead.”

Jun-Ho looks confused, but the smarminess to his expression has disappeared, and he watches Chin-Ho like a hawk.

“In any case,” Chin-Ho goes on, taking the first piece of paper out and holding the rest of the pile to his side in his other hand, “it’s only an Instagram search away. If you don’t want people to find this, maybe you should tell your boyfriend to not make his Instagram profile public.”

At these words, he holds the paper up and turns it out for Jun-Ho to see. The crowd reacts before Kyungsoo can even begin to process what’s before him, a litany of gasps sounding out like a wave through the sea, row by row.

On the piece of paper is a screenshot of someone’s Instagram page, and it’s opened up to a picture of what is clearly Jun-Ho and some other man. In the picture, Jun-Ho’s lips are planted to the man’s cheek, a snapshot of a kiss eternalised through a camera phone. The caption at the bottom reads ‘1 year with you: the best of my life’, and is scattered with a number of bright-coloured love hearts. Kyungsoo takes a short moment to laugh internally at the irony: two months with this same boy had made the few years following the worst of his life. It’s strange to fathom that Jun-Ho could have brought any semblance of joy to anyone’s life when he had only bought hell to Kyungsoo’s.

“I printed these out as soon as I saw your stupid face back in town,” Chin-Ho’s words cut through Kyungsoo’s thoughts, and Kyungsoo’s only just noticed the disgust in the boy’s tone, the ferocity to his dislike. “I guess it’s good to see you haven’t changed.”

As the crowd around them starts to bustle more with this drama, Jun-Ho, who since the picture had been displayed has stood paralysed in place, finally speaks.

“I- how did you- that’s photoshopped, that’s-“

“Cut the crap, Jun Ho. You shouldn’t have come back. I know what actually happened four years ago, and now everyone else here does too.”

And when Kyungsoo musters enough strength to look around, he realises he’s right. The student body watching around them are all routed in place, heads bobbing at different heights for different year groups, but the one commonality is their expressions: shock and, unmistakable, stark, disgust. Kyungsoo feels something flip in his throat, and his eyes are suddenly blurred with tears - so quick he can’t muster any strength to stop it.

“No, it’s him!” Jun-Ho’s yell reverberates through the still hallway, and he lunges forward toward Kyungsoo, the blur of his form like a large bullet. But Kyungsoo never feels the impact, and when his eyes clear he sees the leader and Taemin both holding Jun-Ho back, each clinging to a separate arm.

The two meet eyes briefly, a mutual recognition passing between them, and then their holds both tighten as Jun-Ho continues to thrash, and the moment is gone.

Kyungsoo doesn’t stay. His feet move him before he even tells them to, and he walks back and out through the crowd of students, shaking with each step. He isn’t looking around him as he goes, and doesn’t notice anyone until he feels a hand reach to halt him.

His trembling gaze draws up and meets with Jongin’s. The fingers that had caught him tighten, an attempt to ground him, for they must feel the way Kyungsoo shakes. But even that grip and those sincere, deep brown eyes fixated to him do nothing to steady him. The hand loosens, and Kyungsoo sees the way Jongin’s expression transforms from neutral to one of worry.

Kyungsoo keeps on walking, aware of the steps that start to follow a few paces behind, before faltering abruptly in place. He lets it happen, can’t find it in himself to look back; he’ll talk to Jongin later, once his mind stops reeling and he feels steadier again. For now, he walks, and walks, and keeps walking until he’s out of the school building and approaching the front gates. From the distance, he hears the bell trill - a call for First Period -, but his steps don’t falter.

He reaches numbly for his headphones stuffed unceremoniously in his school trousers from this morning, slips them into his ears, and breathes.

Kyungsoo finds himself at home a couple of hours later, the place his feet had led him to after walking aimlessly had become tiring.

The house is empty and still: Eun-Seo mustn’t yet be done with her university lectures. He ambles through the house numbly, moving on autopilot through the hallway, up the stairs and into his bedroom.

He throws his blazer aside and then creeps under the covers, cosying up into his duvet and allowing his eyes to fall to a close.

Time passes strangely with him like this. Even though the room and the world around him is still and quiet, Kyungsoo’s thoughts are loud and muddled. The exchange from the morning keeps playing back in his mind, every detail and nuance, every word.

He can’t get Jun-Ho’s face out of his head, the expression he’d worn as he’d lunged for Kyungsoo in the middle of the school hallway - something wild to his eyes. Kyungsoo can’t understand why that image is striking him so: he’s seen anger like that, fury, seen it in the leader and his cronies everyday for years, but this has shocked him to the core.

It only hits him a bit later that that’s exactly it: he’s seen faces like Jun-Ho’s before, seen it in Chin Ho, and Chin Ho had had a story, had had his own life and his own motivations way beyond Kyungsoo’s knowledge. A lot of what Chin Ho had done to Kyungsoo was less about Kyungsoo and more about him, and it was only after Kyungsoo realised this that he has been able to begin moving on when it comes to all he went through in his earlier school years.

He hadn’t realised it just then, in the moment, but that’s exactly how he had felt seeing Jun-Ho again: unafraid and always aware in the back of his head that he knows not even one percent of what is happening in the lives of the people around him.

The leader had surprised him. It didn’t mean the same could be said of Jun-Ho, and he doesn’t reckon he would ever want to hear an explanation either, but he believes that what had happened back then - when he was outed in as cruel a manner as he had been - was a lot less about him and a lot more about Jun-Ho than he has ever before appreciated.

And it’s as these thoughts are spiralling in his mind that he hears a knock to his door. He blinks around himself, and he just now sees the dark auburn tones that have hued the room, cast by the setting Sun pouring in through his bedroom window.

“Kyungsoo?” he hears, and it’s Jongin’s voice - hesitant, but gentle as ever. “Are you in there?”

In lieu of an answer, Kyungsoo crawls out of the duvet. He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it up as he raises and pulls his bedroom door open.

Jongin is stood in the hallway, his hand raised unsurely in a loose fist, the artificial lighting of the bulb above his head mixing with the orange beams of sun that brush past Kyungsoo’s form. Even though he had been the one who knocked, he looks surprised by Kyungsoo’s presence, lips parted and eyes wary.

“Your sister was coming in at the same time. She let me in,” he explains, and he looks so gentle. “I just- Kyungsoo, are you okay?”

“I’m... fine.” Kyungsoo tries, and he realises he is - for the most part. He doesn’t know how much time he’s had alone to think it all over, but the school day must be finished - hours have passed and he hadn’t even noticed, hours that he’s spent getting over the shock of the encounter and digesting it. “Come in.” He offers, stepping back to give Jongin space.

Jongin does, settling easily on the end of Kyungsoo’s bed even as his gaze still doesn’t deviate from Kyungsoo’s form. Kyungsoo closes the door behind them, and when he turns to face Jongin again he zeroes in on the small furrow to his boyfriend’s brow, and how he looks at Kyungsoo as if he might breakdown at any given second.

Kyungsoo exhales out the beginning of a laugh. “No, really,” Kyungsoo assures, sitting down into the place beside Jongin, “I’m fine.”

Jongin still looks unconvinced, his pupils flickering across every minuscule detail of Kyungsoo’s face as if even the slightest twitch of a muscle might clue him into an upcoming barrage of tears. So Kyungsoo reaches out, curling his fingers into Jongin’s open palm. With his other hand, he encompasses the rough skin over the back of Jongin’s hand, dusting light touches over his knuckles, Jongin’s hand now sandwiched warmly between his own.

“Thank you for coming,” Kyungsoo says openly, drawing his gaze down and away from Jongin’s face to see the way the sunset drips over their skin - his pale and Jongin’s tan shining out in stark contrast when wrapped up together like that.

“Of course.” Jongin’s fingers twitch in Kyungsoo’s loose grip. “Listen, I… know who he was.” Jongin admits carefully.

Kyungsoo blinks in surprise, looking up once more to meet Jongin’s eyes. “You know about him?” He questions,

“I didn’t, no.” Jongin approaches. “I was in China for that year, when everything happened.” His eyes trail up, behind Kyungsoo’s head, and Kyungsoo follows where they are fixed.

They lay intently on a worn envelope, one of his first additions to the wall: on it, the words ‘First’ is scrawled, and beside it is a harsh scribble made of erratic, severely crossed out lines.

When Kyungsoo had first written the envelope, the place of the scribbles had been occupied instead by a word - hidden now behind layers and layers of violent ink. And though the attempt to mask the word from view had been a powerful one, there is a clue in the length of the harsh scribble.

Four letters long - maybe five. A word Kyungsoo definitely did not comprehend when he’d first written that envelope, something he’s only grown to understand now since he’s met Jongin.

Kyungsoo remembers the day he’d created that, remembers it so potently he can recall even now the minor details of it; the sullen, grey skies that had sent tremors through the afternoon, the cold, soggy plate of food left untouched on his bedside table. It was the day his uality had been uncovered by his school, at a time when he’d never before felt so much hate for himself, been so betrayed by his own feelings.

Kyungsoo stares back at Jongin now, marvelling at how he’d picked that piece out from a hundred different memories. It makes him wonder how long he’s been wanting to ask him about it, how many days he’s been holding back.

“Come on then,” Jongin speaks suddenly, his voice faint and so, so soft. “Tell me the story of the first.”

A/N

Hi folks, I hope you’re all doing well in these strange times.

I did an announcement a couple of chapters back saying I would be posting the outlines for the rest of the chapters in this fic so that you guys still know the story. However, even though all of the outlines are ready, I have been completely incapable of publishing them. It feels wrong to provide you guys only with outlines when I have the capability and the will to keep writing this fic. I want to finish this. I want to finish this and make it good. I want to fall back into writing, and remember all the reasons why I loved it so much, and why I should keep loving it.

I’m taking down the announcement soon as it no longer stands true (except the stuff about Kris Wu being trash, that is the cold-hard truth. Please try not to relate my character to the real-life name – they are disparate in my head, though I have personally decided not to write Kris’ personal chapter I had planned out, unable to wholly separate the character from its namesake).

Love you guys, forever and always