I’ve never been the type of person who willingly gets involved with confrontation or anything of the sort. The thought alone gives me a rumbling sensation up my spine and queasiness inside my stomach. The day I had hit Joonea was shocking and uncharacteristic of me; so much so that it scared me how I handled the situation.

When I was in middle school my silence is what saved me from the bullies. One after another people soon drifted away and ignored me completely. Sure, there was a few side comments muttered under passing breaths or snide remarks from onlookers, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

This. This was different.

●●

After lunch, Jeonghan and Chan offer to walk me to my next class; gym. Seungkwan and Minghao left a while before the bell, claiming they had to turn in a paper and are going on ahead to their next respective classes afterwards.

“Man, Seungkwan has gym after lunch, he could’ve just taken you.” Chan complains weakly as the three of us make our way down a crowded hallway littered with students commuting at differents paces.

Jeonghan lets out a tired sigh, but continues walking with an arm slung loosely around the younger’s shoulders. “Channie, stop whining, no one cares if you're late to your next class.” We make our way out the schools back double doors and emerge into the outside’s biting weather. My hands immediately find their way into my pockets, escaping the chill.

“Hey, my teacher for Home Economics is very strict if he’s having a bad day!” Chan shrugs off Jeonghan’s arm and jumps a few steps ahead of us deciding to now walk backwards and continue his conversation that way, fallen leaves crunching under careful steps. “Plus, you know I had to clean the restrooms the other morning because I was talking during a presentation, that was the worst nineteen minutes of my life.” Chan makes swift eye contact with me and quickly averts his gaze before I can do the same.

He doesn’t have to say anything because I can already tell that the younger is thinking of the situation that took place in the cramped restroom one morning.

Jeonghan clicks his tongue once, pulling me out of my fragile thoughts. “Don’t stress over the small stuff.”

“What if I get detention?!” Chan dramatically pauses in the middle of the walkway, but the oldest slips past him and with hesitance I follow.

“Oh, hush. This is just high school, Chan. So what if you spend an hour after school ends?” Jeonghan shakes his head in annoyance a few times before looking at me cooly. “Hey do you-”

“Wonwoo?” The three of us are stopped in front of a large building with double doors leading inside, where I currently wish I was due to the chilled weather. We all look towards the voice behind us and to my- and probably Chan and Jeonghan’s- surprise, it’s Seungcheol standing with a few others who I also recognise from my psychology class, and the boy from this morning, DK. “Hey, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol brings his attention to the long haired male.

“Hi.” The older lifts his chin a little and hikes his bag closer to his shoulder. I’m suddenly reminded of the weird atmosphere from my sheared class with the strange pair.

“Oh, Wait you know that guy too?” DK muses quite loudly and a I begin to feel red heat spread across my chilled cheeks. I quickly avert my gaze downwards once I notice the group of boys.

Too many people.

“Of course I do, he’s in Jeonghan and I’s group for one of our classes.” Seungcheol confirms as if he’s offended that DK didn’t know this information.

The tiny tremors begin to occur, starting with my hands. I mentally blame it on the biting wind.

“Oh yeah, you’re in our Psychology class right? You sit in front of me.” One of the boys questions casually and someone answers back quickly and a little stubborn.

“Yeah, DK, we all know him…”

“Well, Wonwoo and I here are friends!” DK obnoxiously states. “We’re bathroom buddies!”

Jeonghan has moved himself in front of me, not too noticeable, but it is obvious that he’s trying to block Chan and I from further conversations and I silently thank him for that because right now I can feel the oncoming anxiety.

I glance up at the familiar voice and notice so many eyes are on me. The attention that I never wanted has somehow crashed upon me and it’s becoming too much. My chest begins to feel heavy as if someone was sitting on it.

But all thoughts come to a halt once I hear a hushed yet confused tone call out my name. “Wonwoo…?”

My eyes make contact with a worried looking Mingyu, just my luck.

This must be all some type of cosmic joke.

“Look guys, I get you’re all BFFLs with Wonwoo here,” Jeonghan starts cooly, while gesturing his thumb over his shoulder towards me, but the movement is quickly forgotten because I have my eyes locked onto Mingyu's own concerning pair. “But Chan and I’s next class is about to start and we’re just trying to show him to the coach’s office.”

“I’ll take him.” Mingyu announces while turning his head away from me, but the hurt and confusion in his eyes just now strikes a chord within and I spiral into my thoughts, blocking the current conversation that continues around me.

Mingyu shouldn't be even the slightest bit concerned over me. It just doesn't make sense.

I tilt my head down in apprehension and simultaneously feel my heart rate begin to pick up; thoughts and feelings running wild like free range mustangs.

My coffee eyes sweep the concrete path underneath my converses, while my hands are occupied with wringing themselves out; cold and red.

I barely pick out a muffled voice that sounds like a question, but decide to ignore it because the next thing I take notice of is Mingyu's chilled hand coming in contact with my own two, pulling them gently apart, and guiding me into the building behind us.

Warmth is what I feel.

Not from the boy beside me, no, but from the heaters blasting throughout the building’s air conditioning.

We continue forward silently and my entire body seems to have it's own agenda with the uncontrollable tremors wracking through me. I do not realise quite how bad the shaking is until I hear Mingyu soothingly begin to speak.

“Hey, I know you’re nervous right now; just relax, none of them are around, it’s just us.”

Right. I need to calm down, even if it's just a little.

I count the colored tiles under us and hope it helps, but after the fifteenth tile I start to lose hope. That is until the feeling of Mingyu's thumb rubbing slow and intricate little circles along my knuckles helps bring my thoughts elsewhere and let's me focus on breathing in and out rhythmically.

I'm not sure how long it takes until the shaking lessens and I'm able to let go of the boy's hand, but Mingyu stays beside me quietly and patiently.

What have I done to deserves his kindness.

“Thank you.” My deep voice fills the empty hall and I’m reminded of this morning when the same scene basically played out.

A smile takes over Mingyu's face that causes my inner self to swoon, but I'll be damned if I was to let my emotions truly show.

“Any time. So, uh, you needed the coaches office right?” He asks while bringing a hand up to his neck, in a nervous manner.

“Yeah, I have to talk to him about, uhm, s-something.” I swiftly avert my gaze. Mingyu doesn't need to know about my heavy issues, he already knows too much.

“Okay, well his office is this way.” He points down the corridor and we begin moving towards the desired direction.

My mind races with the same question, over and over and over again, and before I know it the words begin to slip out as if I’ve lost all control of my own mouth. “We’re friends, right?”

It’s a stupid thing to ask, as if I’m a middle schooler trying to verify something that is completely obvious, but I think it is something deeper within me that needs the confirmation. I need to know that Mingyu is going to truly be there for me. I just need to confirm one last time.

The Junior stops abruptly, turning around with wide eyes, looking a little taken aback.

An unreadable expression runs over Mingyu’s handsome features and I become slightly nervous of the answer.

“Of course.” Mingyu chirps eagerly, giving me hope and calming the queasiness in my stomach.

A dopey and quite embarrassing smile blooms across my face and relief spreads over me.

“Okay, I uh-” I let out a deep and breathless chuckle “was just making sure you know? Sometimes people can get mixed signals and begin to assume things-”

“Hey,” The younger stops my mindless rambling.

“Yeah?”

“If you need anything I want you to text or call me, okay?” He emphasized while pulling out his phone and handing me the shiny and new device. I take it gently with both of my hands and turn the phone around, tracing my eyes carefully over the unlocked screen and begin placing my contact info.

Once I tap save the screen automatically brings me back to the contact list and I catch a glimpse of the number down at the bottom, indicating the amount of numbers saved in the phone, reading over two hundred.

A queasy feeling begins to rise in my stomach and I become frighteningly aware of just how popular the boy in front of me is. Sure I’ve heard the conversations and seen the looks towards Mingyu, but I guess it has never clicked as hard as it has now.

“Here” I hand the phone back towards the younger and reach into my satchel.

I suddenly become shy and a bit reclusive, because I know that my contact list isn’t even a quarter as impressive as his, but then again I’ve never had a reason to have anyone other than my dad’s and grandmother's number in my phone.

“Um, I-I don’t have many contacts in here, so.” My sentence fades with every passing word but Mingyu doesn’t even seem to register my timidness. He continues to take the outdated cell happily and begins to add in the needed information; smile proudly striking across his face.

That is, until I notice the tremor. The smile slips and quickly regains shape, only less natural and more of a tight mask.

He notices, of course he does, because if there is one thing I can confidently preach about Mingyu is that he isn't the slightest bit dumb, he notices things; things that matter, things that have a deeper meaning.

I watch as the mask falls completely off the junior’s face and is replaced by a look of sorrow.

He hands me back the phone without a word and we both continue towards the desired destination with a heavy atmosphere surrounding us. I do nothing to lighten the mood and neither does he, but I feel like it is better off that way because if he was to even so much as question or comment about the situation, I feel like the mood would go down to places I’m not ready to revisit.

●●

“Alrighty, sorry for making you wait for so long, I had an important phone call and needed to start class in the gym.” My back straightens in the metal fold out chair I’m currently sat in, as a middle aged man with a strong build and neatly styled dark hair enters the small office closing the door behind him.

“Jeon Wonwoo, I’m Mr.Sung. I read the report they sent out to all of your teachers ahead of time. I’m not a therapist nor am I telling you I can’t help, but I’m a fantastic listener if there is anything to be said.” He sits down in his worn computer chair, that looks like it’s close to falling apart at any minute. “I may just be a coach and a teacher, but sometimes that also means an impromptu role model.” He finishes with looking through a few papers clipped to his board and then back to me with an understanding look.

“Mrs. Choi has already emailed me about the days that you’ll have counseling.” I feel slightly nervous at the mentions of the sessions. “Mondays and Thursdays, correct?” I nod my head slightly.

“Okay then” He chirps out and stands suddenly, walking to a closet of sorts on the opposite wall from where I’m seated. Mr. Sung then searches through a filing cabinet and pulls out a sheet of paper. “Here is your locker number and combination.” I reach for the paper and he turns back around, closing the filing cabinet in the process. “What size for sweatpants and a tee shirt?” He looks over a broad shoulder with a questioning stare and I mumble out a quiet ‘medium’.

“Here you go.” The maroon P.E. uniform rests heavily in my lap as the coach goes over locker room etiquette and manners- all of which sound like common sense, but it helps the time pass because before I know it he’s already standing up to show me my designated locker.

“So showers are down the hall to the left of my office-” We exit the tiny room and Mr.Sung points over my shoulder. “and your dressing locker will be on this side, over here.”

I decide to test the waters a bit and mumble out a quiet