“Dude,” Jooheon shout-whispers, chuckling behind a hand. Changkyun glances over at his hyung suspiciously, knowing exactly from his tone what he’s going to ask. Just as expected, the older is holding a vial of a highly questionable fluorescent blue liquid.

Changkyun immediately shakes his head adamantly, remembering the last time Jooheon had gotten a brilliant idea. He most certainly cannot afford to end up in the principal’s office again this month.

“No, hyung,” he whispers back with pursed lips. Their teacher passes by, and both duck their heads down instinctively to pretend they’re glancing at their notes.

“Come on, Kyunnie,” Jooheon says in an overly sweet tone that sets Changkyun’s teeth on edge. He tightens his grip on his own pencil, kneading his lips together anxiously. He hates it when Jooheon uses that tone, it’s one he can never say no to… “I’m just trying to explore more in my science class… What harm could that do?”

“Plenty,” Changkyun insists without hesitation.

“Shh,” a familiar, annoyed tone insists from behind. They turn to see their student body president, Kihyun, glaring at them behind his thick-rimmed glasses. Jooheon and Changkyun merely turn back around to face their own table, rolling their eyes at their hyung’s typical behavior.

“Nothing too bad happened last time,” Jooheon continues to defend, though granted his voice is a bit lower now. “Besides, the principal loves us. We could never get into too much trouble.”

“We can’t use that as an escape policy every time,” Changkyun tells him. “That won’t last us much longer if we keep relying on it.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want to know what happens if we mix this into… whatever this is?” Jooheon asks with a mischievous glint in his eye. Changkyun scoffs at this, unable to find it very surprising that his hyung actually has no idea what they’re doing despite their teacher having explained it enough that a five-year-old would understand. The younger can’t bring himself to tell the older that no, he did not, in fact, want to know what would happen. Though, that’d be such a bold-faced lie he knows he wouldn’t be able to pull it off.

He heaves a sigh in defeat, and Jooheon knows he’s won. They glance simultaneously over to their teacher to make sure the older woman isn’t watching. Luckily, she’s too busy re-explaining the process to the goofballs of the class, Hoseok and Minhyuk, who were too busy to listen before giggling at their own antics. Jooheon and Changkyun then look back at the vial.

Jooheon doesn’t even pause in hesitation before pouring the whole thing into the boiling beaker on the burner in front of them. A low chuckle escapes his lips as he does, an unreadable light shining in his eyes, and Changkyun can’t help but match the conspiratory tone.

At first, nothing happens, and both boys stand from their stools and peer into the mouth of the beaker in an almost demanding fashion. Of course, that’s when the concoction decides to bubble up and explode through the top in an instant, painting the two students in a deep blueish shade.

“Lee Jooheon! Im Changkyun!”

The two turn to face their irate teacher, both removing their splattered safety goggles to fully see her fuming expression. She can only fling out an index finger towards the door. The boys nod in understanding as they shuffle from the room, not even risking staying there a moment longer to take off their probably-stained lab coats.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into that,” Changkyun mutters with his head hanging low. He can’t even begin to imagine what his parents are going to say. Well, more of what his eomma is going to say. His appa, he feels, will be proud that he broke out of the classroom mold to try out something new. A silent kind of proud, mind you, but proud nonetheless.

“Come on, Kyunnie,” Jooheon says with a chuckle, slapping his hand down onto the younger’s back jokingly. “That was great!”

“That was dangerous,” Changkyun argues. “We had no idea what we were putting into that mixture… What if it had caught fire? What if it had created some poisonous gas? What if—?”

“The teacher wouldn’t have put anything actually dangerous into a classroom,” Jooheon interrupts with a sigh. “Why would she? She can preach about caution all she wants, but if she were to put something that powerful into the lab she could lose her job because of kids like us.” He sighs, pulling the younger into a half-hug and out of his crouched-over stupor.

“I guess it was kind of fun…” Changkyun mumbles, leaning into the older’s touch instinctively. His head is pushed about by the rising and falling of Jooheon’s chest, the deep rumblings of a chuckle bringing a smile to his face.

“It was that, Kkungie. It was that.”

Changkyun and Jooheon are taken home soon after their parents arrive at the school. They spend the rest of the day doing nothing more than playing video games, sitting cross-legged in front of the television in Changkyun’s bedroom with blank expressions plastered on their faces. Neither are even vaguely aware of their phones blowing up with texts from their friends about the outcome of the principal’s office.

Finally, Changkyun checks his phone once dinner time rolls around, and he can’t help but chuckle at the different theories from the others.

“Kihyun-hyung thinks our eommas killed us,” he tells Jooheon with a smirk, laughing breathily at his screen. Jooheon ‘hmmphs’, laughing as well.

“Just because that’s what he’d do if he were our eomma,” he says with a knowing glance, “that doesn’t mean ours would do that.” Changkyun nods at this, sighing as he tosses his phone to the side and reclines against his bed. He glances over at the clock on his nightstand, poking out his lower lip at noting how late it is.

“I guess my parents are gonna be getting home super late again,” he grumbles. He stands, stretching as if it isn’t a big deal despite the both of them knowing how much it truly bothers him. Jooheon watches his dongsaeng, chewing on the inside of his left cheek thoughtfully. He knows his parents wouldn’t like it if he stayed over at a friend’s house the same night he’d got sent to the principal’s office with said friend… but he absolutely hates the idea of Changkyun spending the night alone.

So, fully knowing he’ll face the consequences the next day, he sends his eomma a text explaining the situation and that he won’t be getting home that night, and gets up as well. He then goes to Changkyun’s drawer in which he keeps pajamas, and begins changing out of his school uniform.

“Wh-What’re you—?”

“I’m staying the night,” Jooheon tells him, turning to flash him a genuine smile as he begins ing his shirt. He sees the blush dusting Changkyun’s cheeks, but he doesn’t think anything of it. The kid blushes sometimes over the most random of things. He turns back around to continue changing, which Changkyun is grateful for. He takes the moment of reprieve to take a deep breath, calming himself.

“I’ll go see if there’s anything to eat,” he mumbles thickly, doing his best to not be affected by Jooheon’s near-half- despite himself. He then scurries from the room without waiting for a response, though he knows fully well there isn’t anything in the fridge to eat. So, he’ll just wait a minute to get his bearings and order a pizza.

God, he thinks with a heavy sigh. He thinks of how close he’d been to a nearly-shirtless Jooheon, how intriguing such a thought is to him. He’ll admit, he had dreamt of such a thing occurring.

Jooheon, shirtless, walking up from behind and hugging him close. He’d whisper sinful things in his ear, his breath tickling his skin in the most teasing of ways…

Stop it, Changkyun, he tells himself, shoving such images out of his mind. There’s no reason to think like that. For one, I’m not gay. Secondly, it’s Jooheon-hyung of all people! I’ve known him since I was, like, three! I can’t be thinking that way about him!!

He goes in search of a phone, absolutely refusing to allow such images to invade his mind while the boy in question is in his house. He just has to keep such thoughts away for a single night.

Just one night without that dream, he silently prays. Just one night, please. That’s all I ask.

A request, he finds out, is apparently just too much to ask.