Losers

Road to Solace (Revamped)

Jongin first turned away with a roll of the eyes. Sehun was next. Chanyeol forfeited to his desk because no one had brawled. Yet.

Three minutes before the homeroom teacher stopped in for the day Namjoo finally returned. Gone to the bathroom so long Chanyeol almost went to look for her. He didn’t miss the way she and Jongin awkwardly tried not to make contact. Usually sneering or fighting over getting into her desk because he was being an trying to get her into trouble.

There was none of it this morning.

Chanyeol eyed Jongin with a stern frown.

Math period was first. Irritated groans traveled around the room when Mrs. Lim walked in. Beginning class with a review of last night’s homework. Forgetting about this morning’s unusuals, Chanyeol tuned into the lecture. In order to stay on the soccer team, he had to at least be among the top 50 of his class. Meaning he’d have to pass classes with flying average or above average scores.

One day he would be a well-known player in the big leagues. He’d buy one of those huge suites with big window views of the river and towered above the highest complexes. The kitchen islands would be marbled all the way to the shiniest linoleum floors. Three big rooms with huge floor beds with highest grade pillows.

Chanyeol would marry Namjoo. Her grandmother could live with them and no longer have to run a measly bakery where babies were scared of her and teens called her names. Regardless whether Namjoo went to college or not she would excel at being his sidekick for the rest of his life. The best mother. His wife.

That was his dream.

Why he had to work really hard right now.

After he graduated, he would ask her to be his girlfriend.

Park Chanyeol had it all planned out from A to Z.

His attention snapped back to the present when Mrs. Lim called on Namjoo. “What is the answer to number four?”

Like an entire flock of seagulls spotting a crumb of bread their heads turned toward the back. Chanyeol’s attention lifted. If she looked his way, he would mouth the answer. Namjoo was quick-witted. They were always on the same wavelength. She would understand him.

She didn’t look at him.

“I don’t know,” she flatly replied disinterested. “I didn’t do my homework.”

Mrs. Lim’s coy glazed eyes narrowed at her, as if she’d expected it. “Come see me after class.” Switching attention, she called on another student.

Chanyeol sighed. He waited out the rest of the math lecture until class ended and there was a brief pause between classes. Sometimes he stayed late at the bakery to do homework with Namjoo. One of his strategies to get her to do homework, but he couldn’t always skip practice. The coach would disqualify him and Chanyeol need his spot on the team to keep his gateway to a good future.

He was ready to get up when Sehun walked past with determined yet swift feet. His movements solid, the gaze stubborn. There was a paper in his hand. Both heads, Jongin’s and Namjoo’s, tilted up upon his approach.

“I made a copy for you,” Sehun placed the sheet on Namjoo’s desk. “Turn it in and say you found the homework.”

Namjoo didn’t react, only looked up at him with loathe. “Did I ask for your help?”

“Namjoo…” Sehun calmly began, but Namjoo swiped the paper off her desk. It flew in a curve then landed atop his shoes.

Her brows steepled as she shifted to look out the window to ignore him. Chanyeol bit down on his teeth when Sehun stepped around Jongin’s desk to move toward Namjoo. Jongin stuck his leg out to block him.

“She said go away,” Jongin coolly stared up at Sehun.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” Sehun shot. Making a wide step over his leg Sehun forcefully pulled Namjoo’s chair back causing a loud thud. She yelped from the abrupt jolt and glared at her contender.

Gripping the homework in his hand, Sehun demanded, “Get up.”

When there was no response, Sehun pulled her up from the chair. Namjoo struggled with him. Chanyeol watched angrier by the second. Pressing down so hard on his mechanical pencil that the lead broke. Their class president succeeded taking Namjoo with him.

He flew up from his chair a tad second too late. Ending up watching wide-eyed, stricken, when Jongin bolted after them. Chanyeol stretched up to his feet to follow, forced to a halt when the front-end door opened.

“All right, class, sorry I’m late.” It was the geography teacher. “Park Chanyeol, what are you doing? Sit down. We’re about to start.”

⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂

Why! Why was it always so hard to do something for her?! Sehun felt like he had to drive himself off the cliff every time he just wanted to be nice.

Pulling Namjoo down the lengthening corridor empty of the student body, Sehun led her into the private of the library. Quiet. Reserved. Past long tables toward the towering bookshelves that could hide them and their warring voices.

Finally coming to a stop his grip remained on her arm, the other slamming the copy of math homework he’d made specifically for her. Several answers were wrong on purpose. The details he was careful to keep in case the teacher assumed she plagiarized him.

“I told you,” he kept his voice hushed but heated, “that if I give you something, you take it.”

Namjoo tugged to get free. He didn’t let her go.

“Let go!” she raised her voice.

Sehun intentionally pulled her closer. “Take it.”

Namjoo crumpled the sheet up into her palm. Her answer to him.

“Did I ask for your help?” she snarled. “Are you trying to be a savior? How many times do I have to tell you not to get in my business?!” She attempted to yank her arm away unsuccessfully. “Let go of me!”

She shook and twisted, but he held on tighter. He would win. He would. Then…a hand snagged his wrist. Namjoo stopped fighting, quiet suddenly. The muscles that had tightened in her arm loosened enough that he was just holding her.

Jongin stared at him with eyes of steel. His voice came out cool and flat, “She said let go.”

Sehun didn’t want to, because then what? Namjoo would go with him?

What the hell?

They were enemies, so what was Jongin doing? Under his intense stare Sehun ended up releasing Namjoo. Surprisingly she didn’t throw the paper into his face or stomp off immediately. The three of them stood there awkwardly. The tension fizzled away so fast Sehun was abruptly confused.

Why was he still standing here?

Why was Namjoo frozen?

Why had Jongin come charging like a defender? Wasn’t that the shaggy haired kid’s role?

Namjoo barely looked at him. Seemed, more instead, that she was trying to avoid looking at Jongin. Sehun stole a glance at the two of them. Refusing to share contact or even throw fists like they would. Sensing now the strange curling tension was seeping like jam out of the edges of a sloppily put together sandwich between them.

Swiveling Jongin walked away. His footsteps slow, his gait lacking ferocity. Tucking her chin toward her collars Namjoo went after him walking just as slow. Expectedly going after them, Sehun joined their slow party. Moving quietly, watching carefully.

There was no fight that day. The next day. Or the one after. One morning he caught Jongin accidentally blocking Namjoo’s path to her desk. The two of them doing some weird dance moving left, moving right, trying to get the space right, and then just standing there with a strange air buzzing around them.

Sehun wanted to pull out his hair unable to figure out what was going on, because this was the quietest out of the entire year ever.

At the end of the day he watched Namjoo walk home with the shaggy haired kid who had beat him in the game of growth. He could understand Namjoo being nice to the soccer idiot, but with Jongin? No way to the depth of hell. Between him and Jongin he was definitely first.

Pulling open the shiny door of the car waiting for him at the curb, Sehun slumped inside the car. Hotly eyeing Jongin in the middle of the crowd, a loner walking home alone. His figure easy to pick out because he was tall and lanky, his shoulders b broadly beneath his school uniform. That gaze of his was constantly narrowed, full of annoyance, somewhat snarky, somewhat mischievous with a pinch of coyness. What most stood out was his tough-go attitude he strut around with that backed up his bad boy vibe.

Sehun knew the hot girl Jihye had a deep crush on him. Her pretty long-haired gang perhaps all felt the same, but she stood out the most because of her wide hips and known curves that caused whispers. There was a dare among the fellow male students to flip her skirt.

The second Jongin disappeared Sehun turned away. Disturbed by the replay of his subtle acts to save Namjoo, because it was none of his business!

“What’s all that huffing back there, lad?” the butler wondered. “Seems your chest is woven tight.”

“Nothing.” Sehun mumbled irritated. Upset, he eyed the city view uninterested.

He just wanted Namjoo to accept his kindness. Be civil with him the way she was with…everyone.

Opening the window, the butler wondered, “School being a bother? Oh, all those tests and weekly quizzes really gets to you, huh?”

“I said it’s nothing!” Sehun yelled.

The butler chuckled patiently. A soft rumble that made Sehun think of Namjoo’s grandmother. The gentle manner she always laughed with whenever she witnessed the excitement of two kids reuniting for another play day.

Loudly sighing, Sehun sunk into the backseat. Angry all of a sudden. At Namjoo and the soccer loser Park Chanyeol. He heard she would be playing soccer with him during the spring sports festival. He detested Namjoo and Kim Jongin who she fought with daily intentionally, because in reality, she was angry with him and Jongin was merely a punching bag. Look at them now. All weird and strange with each other like something was going on.

Sehun hated it.

He hated it.

Why was Namjoo closer to them than to him? He was always first. He was always the first friend of hers!

Sehun cut his eyes to the butler. Not really seeing him but staring hard at the back of the driver’s chair. “How do I get a girl to like me?”

⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂

Steam fogged up the bathroom when Jongin slid the shower curtain open and stepped out. Swiping his clothes off the sink counter he slipped into his new change of clothes. The vent hummed noisily in the background. He focused on his blurred figure in the mirror before reaching out to wipe the mirror clear.

A quick observation and he noted the bruises on his face had faded greatly. He almost looked normal again. Just like the common student. A glance at his damp hair and Jongin reached up to give it a quick brush this way, that way.

His appearance never really mattered. It wasn’t something he droned over like the girls every morning. God, how much effort did it take just to look good for a day? Did they wake up at the break of dawn every morning just to comb their hair, put makeup on, and draw on perfectly symmetrical eyebrows? Crazy.

Dropping his hand, he eyed himself. Suddenly curious about the way others saw him. Did he look like the dirty boy next door? Certainly not a nerd, because he wasn’t that smart. Maybe he looked like a rodent. Worse, did he come off smelly? Grabbing his shirt, he gave himself a sniff. He showered every day, so he couldn’t come off that bad.

Looking at himself again Jongin combed his fingers through his fringe. Wondering if he at least looked like a decent boy. Man, he subconsciously corrected himself. Jongin remembered his father slapping him on the back. Gleefully chuckling, proclaiming, “You’re becoming a man now.” when he noticed his son had grown taller, his body broader.

Biting his lower lip Jongin thought he should at least be ok.

When he woke up the next morning, Jongin gave himself a long onceover in the mirror. His tracksuit was neatly folded and packed into his backpack. The sports festival wouldn’t commend until afternoon, but he was pumped up for the day.

“Why, look at you!” the aunt from next door mused, her voice going up a notch when she saw him. Coming over to touch his shoulder she smoothed out his shirt, “Don’t you look stunning today?”

Jongin shrugged out from her and walked toward the table. A large oval bowl was filled to the brim dangerously with steaming broth. A mix of beef and vegetables could be spotted through the surface.

“What took you?” his father walked over with a plate for him. “You usually don’t take this long getting ready.”

“Well,” he excused sitting down and pulled his chair closer to the table, “we have a sports festival today.”

“It’s today?” his father asked joining him. Suddenly grinning, “What are you doing?”

“Running track.” Jongin answered.

“You’ll definitely win!” the aunt claimed sitting on his other side. “It’s a sport made just for you.”

Jongin grabbed his spoon then glanced at her, “Why are you here?”

“Jongin,” his father growled, warning him not to be rude.

Jongin shot his father a stern frown. What the hell was he doing inviting this woman over all the time? She wasn’t a part of the family. She was married to this dude next door Jongin had never seen, so if she had her own people why was she always at their house? It was a constant displeasure.

Hurriedly stuffing himself, Jongin left the house. Walking quickly and then faster. The school yard was buzzing with activity when he arrived. Jongin climbed the stairs to their floor and entered the classroom high on energy. These days he’d been waking up earlier than normal, anticipating the start of the day. Weird, but he was doing it.

Hooking his backpack around his chair he sat down at his desk. His desk mate wasn’t here yet. Probably taking her sweet time with that abnormal shaggy haired kid. He knew they were good friends, like two pieces of thread twisted and knotted together. Ever since the incident he was too embarrassed to take up arms with her. Realizing how petty the fight he had started was. Jongin couldn’t bring himself to apologize for it. The shame and injury to his pride made it inconceivable. So, he hadn’t talked to Namjoo either, but it had been strange between them since.

Jongin glanced up when she walked in with the soccer kid. Their eyes locked before he broke it off. Experiencing a strange sensation twitching inside his chest. Clearing Namjoo pulled out the chair beside him and sat down. The two of them transforming into wooden China dolls the entire half of that morning.

When they were released for the sports festival Jongin ran off first. He looked forward to running off his energy. Getting rid of the surge of power that seemed to hang over him since the day Namjoo knuckled him in the face and straddled him funny. Noticing after that day that Namjoo smelled like bread the moment she arrived at school. She yawned twice every period. Her eyes out the window, as if she yearned to be outside more than locked inside a school building. She always finished her homework but forgot the back side. He’d caught the widening of her eyes when the geography teacher told them to flip their sheets over and saw that her map was uncolored.

Today he was going to cut that power out.

Long jump was first. The students rallied on the sides cheering and screaming wildly. The momentum of the heat increased by the hour from all the energy, all the students gathered together. Sweat was already trickling from his hair down his back if it hadn’t already drenched his shirt and pits.

Track race was about to begin. A five-minute break had been issued after the long jump competition to let the students hydrate and cool off, use the bathroom. It was down to one minute now and the gym teacher was preparing to blow the whistle.

Jongin was stretching on the striped field with a group of other students. He had looked and hadn’t looked, but he knew Namjoo was sitting on the silver bleachers disinterested in where their school score stood at. Currently emptying a water bottle because it was getting hotter, the sun higher.

From the corner of his eye she popped out the most and he tried hard not to turn her direction or fulfill his innate curiosity about whether she was paying attention.

His attention switched when the gym teacher blew her whistle – a mistaken signal – and the group among him dashed off, but Jongin didn’t move. Stomping down the track field the teacher flapped her arms around, her brows angled down, blowing the whistle harder and louder. Then Jongin saw why the girls were suddenly screaming and going crazy.

Sehun was marching down the track field cutting off the players. Rebelling against the teacher and headed straight for the bleachers. Adjacent to him Chanyeol burst out from the school building carrying a cooler of ice-cold bottles of water just when Sehun approached Namjoo.

Still preoccupied with her bottle of water she stared up at him probably with a glare. Looming over her like he always did, like he enjoyed the power he wielded by being taller, stronger. Jongin watched Namjoo lower the water, prepare to argue, and witnessed, with not the power going out but burning inside, when Sehun grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled her in for a kiss.


***So, there is Chanyeol who always liked her, Jongin who is experiencing flutters, and Sehun...well, he's getting somewhere


 

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Dyoooo
#1
Chapter 7: ohh this is so good
blackheartz
#2
Chapter 4: What Sehun doing.. You can't force kiss anyone T.T
Luweiweiwei29 #3
Chapter 4: Woah this story gives me feels .
Plz update soon authornim.
yeolmyheart
#4
Chapter 2: my god
but im rooting for chanyeol dhsksksk
yeolmyheart
#5
Chapter 1: YES SIS YES
LEGGO
cant wait to read next!