Chapter 9:

It took approximately seven minutes to locate Kim Jongin after school. While I continuously searched, I earned questioning stares from Chanyeol and Baekhyun. The two boys were lying beneath a willow tree, shielding themselves from the unlikely peek of sunlight that managed its way through the clouds by the end of the day.

I made sure that Jongin had no chance of escape and eyed the entrance of the school, while also darting my glance around the school grounds as well. He wasn’t about to get past me.

“You were serious,” he blandly stated, staring at me with slight disbelief and his normal indifferent face mask.

“I’m always serious,” I deadpanned, matching his emotion.

We continued to stare at each other for a few more awkward seconds and I was very aware that Baekhyun and Chanyeol were indisputably judging us from their comfortable position under that tree. Well if comfortable was defined as: legs intertwined and leaning into each other, whilst heads rested on the other.

I twisted towards them and signaled an ‘ok’ with my fingers to let them know that I wasn’t about to get beaten senseless, physically or verbally. Or emotionally. Whichever way someone could interpret it.

I began to walk and occasionally turned around and realized Jongin was lagging behind.

“Move faster, Jongin,” I ordered, folding my arms with a scowl.

He strode to me in two slow steps, taking advantage of his long legs. And then he stared at me. Again.

“What?” I mumbled, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze.

“You called me Jongin,” he informed me.

We were stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, speeding cars buzzing by, splashing tiny bits of water onto my nicely pressed uniform.

“Yeah,” I countered. “That’s your name isn’t it?”

“Not Kai…” He uttered lethargically.

“What, don’t like it?” I responded.

Even though my original purpose was to repair him emotionally, I still enjoyed discovering ways to irk him in the most supreme, indistinguishable approach possible.

“No,” Jongin immediately responded. “I…I hate Kai…just..”

He quickened his pace muttering a few quiet curses.

“Okay,” I cheerfully answered, attempting to change the mood. “I’ll never call you Kai again.”

“That’s not what I …ugh…just..” Jongin stopped in the same way he did last time.

“Left,” I abruptly spoke, realizing he was close to leading us and I was the one who knew where to go.

“You’re lucky I have nothing else to do,” Jongin said after another minute.

“Or are you lucky that I don’t have anything else to do?” I correct him.

He glared at me for a brief moment but the expression changed to something I’d never seen before and I couldn’t decipher it.

It was about five by the time we reached the apartment and I dug through my back pocket to search for my keys.

I stuffed them into the keyhole and Kai watched me, incredulously.

“Are you parents home?” He wondered, probably not in the mood to deal with adults.

“I live alone,” I muttered back, swinging the door open and flinging myself on the couch, leaving him to awkwardly walk in while I laid down.

“Kyungsoo…” Jongin muttered. “What are you doing?”

“Hmm?” I wondered. “Ugh sorry. I’m just really sore.”

Jongin gazed at me for a few seconds and he ended up sitting on the floor. It actually surprised me that he turn out taking the floor but he said nothing.

“So…your stomach…” he finally spoke up. “You never said anything about it when I asked.”

“Well, it…hurts?” It wasn’t supposed to come out as a question I was so busy trying to figure out why I said it in such a way that I didn’t notice Jongin get up.

He hovered over me and I refrained from keeping my face burning.

“J-Jongin…” I succeeded in stammering.

The next thing I knew, Jongin clutched his fingers onto the hem of my shirt and gently nudged it upward.

My cheeks flared, not from the fact that my shirt was up, but the fact that he witnessed the bruise. It was embarrassing and I felt weak, like I wasn’t a man. I felt insignificant. My bruise was a way of saying I got beat up and couldn’t defend myself. Jongin had to save me.

“D-Don’t look at i-it.” My eyes widened in surprise at how shaky my voice was.

Jongin’s eyes stayed trained though, and something flashed in them. It looked like anger and I couldn’t help but take it as disgust.

He remained saying nothing and brushed his fingertips over my sensitive skin. My breath hitched, my insides compressed and I instinctively wrapped my fingers around his larger wrists, clutching them as if my life depended on it.

And I don’t think the pain that I was feeling with the reason for latching onto him.

“That probably hurt,” Jongin mumbled, referring to his action, not looking apologetic but something in his tone made me blink a few times.

He suddenly got up, retracting his fingers which allowed my stomach to relax.

“I’m hungry,” he bluntly stated.

Shaking off the mixed emotions that streamed through my veins and consumed my mind, I rolled off the couch and responded with a smirk, “Well you came to the right place.”

“Good,” Jongin remarked coldly. “Considering you basically just kidnapped me, you better feed me.”

I watched him in amusement as I made my way to the kitchen.

From the refrigerator, I retrieved a bowl of some leftover Kimchee that I acquired a few days ago. I set it on the counter and proceeded to fire up the stove. I poured water in a stainless steel pot, putting some pinches of salt in there and then put it over the fire.

When the water boiled I put the pasta in and microwaved the Kimchee and laughed inwardly at Jongin’s confused face. He was definitely wondering why I was making spaghetti and Kimchee.

Whilst waiting for both of the items to cook, I took out an organic tomato and a cucumber. I cut them up, put them on a paper plate and added pinches of salt to those also, then dripping Balsamic vinegar over them.

Finally, when I finished cooking the pasta, I drained the water, mixed in the prepared Kimchee, put them over heat again to assure that the flavors blended together and then finished it.

In another five minutes, I was seated at my table, Jongin opposite of me. I wanted to laugh at the situation. Weeks ago, I never would’ve believed that this could ever happen.

“Well, try it,” I encouraged.

Jongin skeptically glanced downwards at the bowl of Kimchee spaghetti then back towards me.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to turn out this way,” he commented, still not having tried it yet.

Eventually he ended up taking a bite of the dish and I wanted to see his thoughts through the expression on his face but it, of course, remained emotionless.

“How is it?” I gave in, desiring to know.

“Awful,” Jongin deadpanned.

“Yah!” I stood up, slamming my palms on the table and wincing because the action caused slight pain in my abdomen. “How could you say that to someone who’s feeding you?!”

The corners of Jongin’s lips twitched, itching to smile but clearly amused.

“I’m kidding, shorty,” he answered. “It’s acceptable. Weird, but okay.”

His praise shouldn’t have made my insides tingle but nonetheless, I felt inadvertently happy.

We continued to eat, mostly in silence. If a conversation sparked between us it normally started with an insult or ended with one, and possibly entirely wrapped around one. The nature that pulled us together was arguing for the sake of arguing. Countering each other’s dispute with another one until we were both glaring at each other. However, it was inconceivably comforting to me and kept my senses conscious.

By the time we were finished with dishes it was around nine. I was suddenly mindful of the point that we talked longer than expected or sat in silence longer than anticipated, chewing thoughtfully.

When Jongin finished washing off his dish he mindfully glanced at the clock and then to me.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I reminded him, more so informed him because he seemed to have no idea that I had the intention of dragging him here and not letting him leave.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin seriously responded, using my real name again, which sent trembling shivers through my bones. “I should go.”

“We haven’t really talked, yet,” I prompted, prodding my phone in my pocket to silence it when it buzzed.

Jongin didn’t say anything but he made no move towards the door.

“Come on,” I called to him as I rotated around and ambled towards my bedroom.

After about ten seconds of being immobile, Jongin trailed behind me.

I seized the opportunity to steal a glance at my phone. Chanyeol had texted me.

You still alive???

I responded back to him quickly.

Of course >.>

I plopped onto my soft bed and urged Jongin to come sit by me, patting the comforter.

“What?” Jongin uttered, eyes narrowed.

“Let’s chat,” I said, my tone softer than normal.

Jongin was more reluctant this time to comply with my gentle demands but he eventually took a seat by me, causing the bed to shift under his weight.

His face was still showing little emotion, the bags under his eyes emphasized.

“Um, eighth grade,” I managed to utter.

Jongin in a breath, his eyes squeezed shut abruptly as if he was reliving a memory that was nightmarish and distant, yet feeling up close all at the same time.

“It’s okay if you really don’t want-“

“I watched him commit suicide,” Jongin cut me off.

If it was humanly possible for a heart to skip a beat and still live, it was happening. I felt waves of tremor and shock simmer through my body while examining the expression on his face. Saying his look was emotional would be an overstatement and understatement at the same time.

I couldn’t possibly interpret his façade.

“Wh-who?” I finally inquired, my voice small.

I realized Jongin was on the verge of shaking and trembling.

“He was an outcast at school and I wasn’t necessarily popular either. Of course people liked me for my looks but I didn’t have many friends…that I cared about. So I met him and though people thought that I hated him, I…I kinda…thought he was okay…” Jongin paused, catching his breath again as if he just ran a marathon and was required to deliver a speech right after.

I said nothing, a signal for him to continue.

“So I become, sort of, friends with him and, you know, I didn’t mind hi-his company or anything. And he wasn’t bullied anymore because of me either. But one day, I don’t know why, students…decided to gang up on him…five students and…and our teacher!” Jongin’s breathing definitely couldn’t be considered regular.

“They beat him up so badly a-and he texted me. He said, “thanks for being my friend” but I didn’t know what happened so I ran to the school since I knew he stayed after for extra help that day. A-And I had this awful feeling in my gut. In the classroom I-I found the students and teacher talking about it and there was blood everywhere. But I couldn’t find him. So I finally made it to the rooftop and I was so scared that he was going to jump or something. But he wasn’t by the ledge b-b-but his face a-a-and body…so beaten…”

Jongin had this faraway look in his eyes that frightened me to an extreme level but I refrained from reaching out to him.

“And then he…he…he pulled out the knife. And I didn’t expect it but…god…god… I-I can still feel it. I felt it go into his gut. I mean I saw it but I feel the thump … I feel it…I feel it every night!”

Tears never fell from his eyes, but mine were watering so badly, I had to blink them away and blindly extend my arms out to him. They wrapped around his toned torso and calmed his shaking body, yet mine remained quivering unstably.

“Don’t hug me,” Jongin repeated but this time, he wasn’t even sounding close to not wanting it.

My wobbling chin was rested on his sturdy shoulder and my hands clumsily placed against his back. It took me a long time to realize that his hands were resting on my back also, with the least amount of force possible, but enough to make me relax into it.

“You know it’s okay to show people this side of you,” I replied.

“No one cares,” Jongin lowly responded, his voice extremely stable for just being so shaky.

He definitely had practice hiding his emotions because he was already a hundred times calmer and I remained permanently shaken up.

“I don’t regret beating them up,” Jongin added. “I’m just a sadistic bastard but I don’t feel an ounce of remorse. In fact, I wish I sent them all to the hospital.”

An extra flood of shivers took over my body in a brief spasm.

“See, this is why you should’ve just left me alone,” Jongin muttered under his breath, still in the hug though.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been rude to me,” I countered.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have acted even more immature and spilled coffee on me,” Jongin battled back.

This familiar tone between the two of us calmed our mind and bodies down.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been a drama queen and requested that I clean your shirt,” I answered, unwilling to back down.

“Drama queen? Excuse me? I’m not the one who stomped all over it in front of the class,” he replied and I knew he must’ve been raising his eyebrows.

“And I’m not the one who saved someone they supposedly ‘hated’ from getting beat up,” I coldly continued, suddenly reminded of Jongin’s split personality.

Jongin’s hand found its way from my back over to my stomach and gently pressed on it again like before. My forehead slid down until it was pressed into his shoulder, gripping the back of his shirt in pain.

“Th-that kind of hurts,” I commented.

I didn’t mention the other unaccustomed feeling that was mixed with the ache.

Jongin moved his fingers slightly, in an action that closely resembled a , before withdrawing them and placing them on my arm after the muscle in my tricep twitched.

“Besides, we’re focusing on you,” I reminded him. “We’re helping you sleep tonight, remember?” I said this even though I knew we never discussed it.

“God, I hate you,” Jongin droned. “Why do you have to be selfless?”

“Trust me,” I answered. “I’m not really selfless, I just happen to have one thing you lack, sympathy.”

Jongin remained silent and I retracted so we were fully apart now and I leaned back against my headboard, gazing up at the ceiling that was littered with dots.

“So what about your parents?” I wondered. “How do they take all of this?”

Jongin sighed, slanting back on the headboard by me.

“Well, my mom left us,” he evenly replied. “My dad and I have an okay relationship but I think he’s kind of afraid of me. We don’t talk that much.”

“Wh-What? Why?” I stammered, awestruck over how coolly Jongin was handling this.

“I don’t even know,” Jongin remarked. “Don’t sweat over it though; it … makes you look uglier.”

A small smirk played onto his lips.

“What about you parents then, shorty?” He changed the subject. “They’re obviously not here.”

“America,” I responded.

“Without you?”

“I didn’t want to go. It was around a year and a half ago.” I told him.

“Yeah, that’s around the same time that my mom left. Guess we’re both loners.”

“Please,” I countered. “I socially interact with people. You’re the most popular guy at school and you don’t even talk to anyone. Well except for…Kris…what happened with him today by the way?”

I remembered how angry Kris had looked at lunch.

“Oh it was over that Tao kid,” Jongin made a sound that closely resembled a laugh. “I’m pretty sure he likes him and he’s pretty sure that my “enemy”, you, snatched Tao away from him. I know it’s bull but Kris was pissed.”

“Why are you even friends with him?” I asked, curiously.

“He’s just another person that hates everyone else as much as I do,” Jongin honestly answered.

“So you hate me then?” I mildly stated, but my words had more bite than intended.

Jongin stared at me for a full ten seconds before blinking.

“I don’t hate you,” he concluded. “I thought that I did, but I don’t.”

“Well that’s good,” I stated, actually feeling good that he didn’t hate me. “So, about that sleep. Are you up for it?”

Jongin snorted.

“There’s a reason I ordered coffee that night, ,” he uttered. “I hate sleeping.”

I furrowed my eyebrows.

“But you always look so tired,” I defied.

Jongin closed his eyes.

“I feel it. Every night I sleep.”

Before he could say anything else, I reached over and snapped off the light, well aware that Jongin and I still sported our uniforms.

“Yah! Do Kyungsoo, wanna ing die?” Jongin growled. “Who even said I agreed to sleep over?”

I shrugged, knowing he couldn’t see me in the dark anyway.

“Too late to walk home now.” Though I doubted he cared about that.

I shimmied out of my blazer and tossed it on the floor and crawled under the covers, Jongin still as motionless as ever.

“I know you’re tired,” I continued, imagining his pissed expression.

“This is so gay,” he growled, finally lying down but above the comforter.

“Maybe you are gay,” I laughed at him, but suddenly the thought stuck in my mind longer than it should have.

“Oh shut up,” Jongin muttered. “Don’t forget that I’m stronger than you are. I could put you in a compromising position right now and you wouldn’t be able to do .”

“You wouldn’t,” I giggled. “I’m injured, remember?”

“God, I ing hate you,” Jongin snarled, repeating the same line over again.

“But you just said you didn’t five minutes ago,” I argued, a smile unwillingly and easily coming to my face.

“I lied,” Jongin corrected but I knew it wasn’t true.

Through the dark, I noticed the silhouette of his fist was shaking and I knew that he didn’t want to have anything to do with the dark realm of sleep.

“Hey,” I softly said. “I’m a light sleeper, so I’ll know if anything happens and wake you, ‘kay? Don’t worry, I’m right here!”

I clutched his fist and he made a grunt of disapproval but showed no intention of moving.

 “Shut up,” I retorted. “If you really hated me, you wouldn’t even be here.”

And with that, we both silenced and slipped into the dominion of dreams.

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A/N: KAY SORRY. I like haven’t edited this and I might go back later but it’s really late at night and I wrote too much fluff too early but I was in a mood for alright? AND I bet you ALL were expecting . Lolz trolled right there. Anyway…sorry about any grammatical errors and business…yeah…I don’t feel like editing this so late at night and I'm pretty sure the quality of writing gradually went down the more I wrote and the more late into the night it got >.>  Kay bye. Thanks for subscribing :3 love you all