Jongin wakes up at 6AM sharp and brushes his teeth as usual, throwing on his uniform before dashing down the stairs, jumping over the last five steps. He makes his way into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, not forgetting to pop a piece of bread into the toaster to brown for 2 minutes and 54 seconds exactly.

His entire family is sitting in the kitchen at 6:30AM and he joins them, finishing his small but hearty breakfast. He pets all three of his precious dogs and pours food into their bowls, making sure to teach them discipline as he tells them all to stay before eating. He kisses his sisters and parents goodbye and skips out the door by seven.

Life as a senior has been a breeze for him so far, just as the past three years of high school have. He walks through the school doors, greeting the teachers and students as the student body president should. He makes his way to homeroom, more than fifteen minutes before the bell and then leaves immediately after the 4PM bell to attend dance class for exactly two hours.

Later in the evening, Jongin finishes his homework and goes to sleep at 10PM, only to relive the same thing all over again the next day.

To put it short, Jongin is a prude.

--

One particular Tuesday morning, Jongin wakes up at 6:20AM and arises in a frantic state when he realizes he forgot to set his alarm. After that, everything is a blur because student body president, top star (though humble) dancer, perfectionist Kim Jongin, forgot to set his alarm.

Jongin brushes his teeth at lightning speed; mildly irritating his gums in the process and then quickly rushes downstairs. Slightly out of breath, Jongin feeds his dogs and messily pours the kibble into the bowls, letting them eat without “staying” for exactly ten seconds.

With mismatched buttons on his uniform and burnt toast in his mouth, Jongin rushes out the front door, forgetting to kiss his family goodbye.

It is five minutes until class begins and Jongin is running towards his locker to retrieve his books. The minute the frazzled boy snaps his lock closed (surprisingly not forgetting to bring it back to its rightful 0), the school bell rings and Jongin knows that by the time he makes it to math, they’ll have already started the introduction to the new chapter.

“I-I’m late,” Jongin squeaks, slinking down against his locker. “I, Kim Jongin, am late.” Jongin falls into a state of despair and self-deprecation until he hears the scuffling of shoes around the hallway corner. After so many years of routine and precision, Jongin knows for a fact that it’s the hall monitor.

With the little pride he has left, Jongin makes a barely audible screech and runs into the nearest janitor closet. As student body president, he has no excuse to be out of class but he can’t risk his reputation either. He’s won the Never-Tardy Award for three years in a row now, and he isn’t going to stop now. Can’t stop, won’t stop.

“Oh my god, it’s locked,” Jongin whispers to himself. “MR. KIM IS GOING TO SEE ME AND HE’S GOING TO CALL ME OUT ON TARDINESS.”

Upon his failed attempt of trying to hide in a closet, Jongin drops down to the ground again and falls over, hugging his knees to his chest. “I’m not tardy,” he says, tears b in his eyes. “I’m a good boy.”

Jongin hears the hall monitor screaming from the next corridor over at the usual crowd of rowdy students and in a minute and twenty-three seconds, his life would be over.

A boy whistles and swings his lanyard of keys around his wrist, walking around the hallways as if he belonged there. But in his defense, he looked better embracing the mid-spring breeze that wafted through the windows than he ever did when he was cooped up in class.

“Whoa, what’s fruit cake doing out of class?” Jongin hears a rough voice.

“DO KYUNGSOO,” one of the hall monitors shout. “Get to class! Who’s that with you?”

“Oh , gotta bounce,” the boy mutters to himself, shoving his keys into his pocket. As he prepares to run, he takes another glance at the pathetic being that is his student body president and sighs to himself.

“Come on, lil’ guy,” the boy named Kyungsoo says, practically dragging Jongin across the hallway floor to a hidden crook within the tech hall.

--

It’s 8:30AM and Kyungsoo seems to have brought Jongin outside of the school, as the two are perched on top of one of the cherry blossom trees not too far from the school gates.

Kyungsoo seems at ease, as he leans back onto the trunk with closed eyes while Jongin can’t help but freak out over this morning.

“I was late and I forgot things. That’s not what star students do,” Jongin whispers to himself, hands shaking vehemently. “If I’m not a star student… what am I?”

“You’re Kim Jongin, the ultimate perfectionist and prude,” Kyungsoo says, not even batting an eyelash at the boy. “First time skipping?” he asks Jongin (although it sounds much more like a statement).

“I am not skipping class,” Jongin interjects, glaring at Kyungsoo, “and I am not a prude.”

Kyungsoo laughs and shifts into a more comfortable position. “Right, right,” he muses. “So are you going back after first period?”

Jongin almost answers yes, but he realizes that if he returned, everybody would know he “skipped” class. He was not a rebellious student.

Kyungsoo looks at Jongin in his peripheral and smirks, stretching his arms. “If not, then let me show you what you’ve been missing out on during these past few years of fruit-caking,” he hums as he slides down the tree.

The panic is visible in Jongin’s eyes as he watches Kyungsoo dust off his pants from down below. “What? Where are you going?” Jongin squeaks as he hugs the branch he’s trying his best not to slip off of.

“The question isn’t where am I going,” Kyungsoo laughs, beginning to walk ahead, “it’s where we’re going.”

Jongin hesitates for a moment before descending the tree, acquiring a baby splinter in the process. He could’ve stayed in the tree the entire day, gone to the library or even rush to the office to beg them to let him keep his perfect attendance, but he didn’t. Instead he ran to catch up with Kyungsoo.

What would his parents say if they saw him like this?

--

Jongin is getting antsier by the minute and this does not go unnoticed by Kyungsoo. They’re walking in the hallway and Kyungsoo whistles a tune before he’s shushed by the president who’s walking on his tippy toes, creating as little noise as possible.

Kyungsoo glares at the boy and whistles even louder than before, even daring to make noises close to coherent singing. At this point, Jongin’s as pale as a ghost and slaps a hand over the hooligan’s mouth (an act the said hooligan clearly does not appreciate).

“Aren’t you scared of being caught?” Jongin whispers in his ear.

Kyungsoo grabs Jongin’s wrist and throws it off his face. “I’ve been skipping for the past four years. Five if you count all the days I’m going to skip this year,” he retorts.

Jongin’s eyes widen at Kyungsoo. “What do you mean four years? Aren’t we in the same grade?”

“I was never in your grade until this year. I’m repeating a year,” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes in response, ignoring any further comments from the younger. “You’d think the president would know his peers better than that.”

Jongin mutters an apology that’s barely audible and Kyungsoo waves it off as he opens his locker. “Here,” he says, handing the boy what appears to be tiny eye dropper bottles. “You can’t graduate high school without unleashing one of these babies in the halls.”

The confusion is strong within the fruit cake, as he inspects it closely with one eye. “What is it?” he asks, playing around with the object.

“A stink bomb,” Kyungsoo deadpans. “Have you seriously never seen one of these before?”

Jongin gasps and s the stink bomb back into the older’s hands, shaking his head furiously. “Never!” he says at a normal volume, crossing his arms. “I am a good child, for your information!”

“And I’m not?” Kyungsoo raises a brow, tossing the stink bombs between his hands.

“Well—I didn’t mean it that way… I,” Jongin stammers.

“I’m kidding,” Kyungsoo laughs at the flustered boy, noting how red his face has gotten. “But seriously you’re gonna set one of these bad boys off today,” he says placing the bombs back in Jongin’s grasp. “Just break the vial and throw it wherever your heart desires.”

Jongin’s palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, tears on his still mismatched uniform already. “I’m a good boy,” he whimpers.

“A good boy, who’s been good for too long,” Kyungsoo hums, throwing his hands behind his head. “I won’t force you to do it. But is this really how you want your high school life to end? The same way it started?”

He was right. He was a rebellious student who possibly had very little book smarts but enough insight to get by in life without studying.

Sure Kyungsoo was a hooligan, but what did that make Jongin? A fruit cake. An uptight, goody two shoes piece of fruit cake that’s followed the same god damn recipe for the past three Christmases.

Perhaps it’s time for a new spice in his life.

With shaky hands, the vial is broken and thrown down the math hallway. The entire hall smells of rotten eggs and farts of too much protein but Jongin doesn’t care. For the first time, he doesn’t care. Jongin grins until it hurts and looks to Kyungsoo, who gives an appraising nod and—dare he say it—a genuine smile in return.

Groans are heard from the neighbouring classrooms and teachers are beginning to pop their heads out of their doors, something that Jongin is still able to recognize as a very, very bad thing.

“It’s Mr. Jang,” Jongin screeches, clutching onto Kyungsoo’s blazer and pointing at the large, angry man.

“Oh well that’s not good,” Kyungsoo laughs sheepishly, knowing his limits.

A popular school rumour that’s been going around Seoul Academy for years is that those who come in contact with an angry Mr. Jang are cursed to eternal damnation in early aged balding hell and are locked away forever in a closet for detention in his classroom.

“We should… run…” Jongin says meekly.

“DO KYUNGSOO AND…” Mr. Jang shouts, squinting as he stomps down the hallway.

Kyungsoo laughs and nods, grabbing a snapback from his locker before slamming it shut. Jongin feels something being thrown over his head and a visor covering his face, and before he knows it, he’s being dragged along by Kyungsoo again. But this time when Jongin looks to the side, he sees Kyungsoo baring the brightest smile he’s ever seen and he can’t help but smile with him because it feels so good to be a part of this world. It feels really, really good.

--

“Thanks for your snapback,” Jongin laughs as he adjusts it so that it’s not obscuring his vision anymore.

“No problem,” Kyungsoo sighs in content, slowing his pace when he sees that they’re out of Mr. Jang’s sight. “I just didn’t want a guilty conscience having you get caught on your first time acting up.”

“I’ve always hated Mr. Jang,” Jongin chuckles, rolling up his sleeves. “It’s my first time saying something like that out loud and it feels so liberating. I hate Mr. Jang.”

Kyungsoo bursts out in laughter and punches the younger’s shoulder. He had tainted the sweet little fruit cake and it was endearing in every way possible.

Jongin catches his breath and looks at Kyungsoo with a glint in his eyes. “What else do hooligans do?” he asks with a huge grin.

“It depends,” Kyungsoo replies, tapping a finger on his chin. “How big of a hooligan are you feeling?”

“The biggest,” Jongin says, without fear in his voice.

“I think you’re ready for the pull,” Kyungsoo says, crossing his arms.

“The pull?” Jongin raises a brow.

“The pull,” Kyungsoo nods.

--

Within a matter of minutes, the entire student body is pouring from the building, and a fire truck is heard from a distance. Students are clamouring about the cause of the alarm and teachers are ushering students to stay away from the building. Everybody is drowning in confusion and Kyungsoo and Jongin settle back into the tree branch that Jongin was considering staying on the entire day.

“I did that,” Jongin says, watching the entire student body huddle together on a field across the academy.

“Yeah you did,” Kyungsoo laughs, as he throws an arm around his fellow hooligan. “They grow up so fast,” he wipes a tear from his eye.

 As the fire truck draws near the school with the building still not showing any signs of smoke or fire whatsoever, the truck’s sirens come to a halt. When the principal discusses the issue with the firemen, it dawns on the staff that there is no fire and that a certain hooligan is probably behind it all.

When the principle, vice principals and office all turn to take a look at the school, two figures in a tree catch their eye and they all begin to make their way towards the rebellious students.

“Do Kyungsoo!” the principal shouts as he stomps angrily towards the cherry blossom tree, “And…”

“Kim... Kai,” Jongin shouts from above, pulling the cap over his face again.

The two drop down the tree and make a run for it, their laughter anything but quiet.

“Nice fake name,” Kyungsoo chuckles, looking behind them. The evidently unhappy staffs are struggling to catch up with the two and he takes a moment to thank god that he’s still young and free to move however he wants. “How are you feeling right now, President?”

“Like I’m going to need to beg the administration to save my presidency if they find out that was me,” he laughs, taking Kyungsoo by the hand, almost soaring past the school gates. Because at that moment, he really did feel like flying.

Today the weather is warm and everything is in bloom and the entire city smells of blossoms. The noises of the traffic and metropolis are heard from miles away but Jongin couldn’t really care less. What Jongin feels is the stickiness of Kyungsoo’s palms and the wind threatening to knock off his snapback and he hears nothing but the reassuring sound of his new friend’s charming laughter.

For the first time in forever, Jongin feels alive. He feels out of breath, anxious and defiant, and he’s pretty sure that he wants to feel all that and more with Kyungsoo by his side from now on.