"!"

Kyungsoo is thisclose to throwing a brick at the infernal machine in front of him, his chest heaving while his fellow journalists eye him warily.

Extremely warily, as Kyungsoo is the Editor-in-Chief of The EXO, and he'll be damned if he doesn't make this deadline.

The deadline, however, is in thirty minutes, and his computer has just crashed.

"SOMEONE CALL TECH," Kyungsoo roars, shoving his chair back from the desk, the wheels propelling him halfway across the room before he finally gets off the chair. "I need a drink."

He grabs his thermos of coffee off of the table that sits in the middle of the room and takes a swig, sighing as the hot caffeine slides down his throat. He'll be damned if he doesn't pull through, because he's got a reputation on the line, goddammit, and he's even got a scholarship and college acceptance on the line (granted, it's a hinted under-the-table wink-wonk promise, but it's something he's holding on very tightly for).

A grasp that, unfortunately, will be all for naught if all the kids in the computer repair program have already gone home for the night.

Not for the first time, he curses the fact that Apple just had to give his high school complimentary computers. Damned things couldn't be trusted to perform under pressure. There was a reason why all the computer programming kids used PCs, he was certain, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the sleek aluminum of new Macbook Airs.

A knock at the door draws his attention, and he signals for one of the others sitting near the door to open it.

"Someone called?"

Kyungsoo raises his hand in the air carelessly, nearly whacking one of the Chinese kids in the process (he thinks it's Kris, but after he and Zitao got matching hair colors and ear piercings, he really can't be too sure at 10 PM.)

"What seems to be the problem?" a voice asks, far too close to Kyungsoo's ear for comfort, and he jerks back, his head hitting something that felt rather like someone's nose.

"God, I'm so sorry," Kyungsoo says hastily, whirling around in his chair to come face to face with a tall, skinny boy with messy hair and his hand clamped to his nose. "I didn't break anything, did I?"

"Don't think so," the kid says, rubbing it and bringing his hand back down. "So... what seems to be the problem here?"

Kyungsoo turns back around and gestures to the screen. "Well I was formatting a page, and then it just did the thing and the screen went white and now it's like this," he says feebly, knowing full well that it's a very ty explanation, but he's no tech genius and he tried his best.

The kid, to his credit, merely his nonexistent teenage beard thoughtfully, reaches over, and presses a few buttons, effectively restoring the screen.

"There. Should work just fine now."

Kyungsoo blinks, his computer now un-frozen and his page, miraculously still intact.

"I think I love you," Kyungsoo murmurs, and the kid chuckles.

"Isn't it a little premature? My love isn't cheap, you know."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. "Enough chit-chat. I need to finish. See you around...?" he trails off, finally realizing that he actually doesn't know the kid's name.

"Jongin. See you around. Try not to have another fiasco at 10 PM, though? We're usually not around at this time, you're lucky I happened to be wrangling with a new computer and lost track of time today."

Kyungsoo waves him off, and he can hear Jongin scoff as he leaves.

~*~*~*~*~

Two weeks after the somewhat forgettable encounter, Kyungsoo encounters yet another computer malfunction, this time a complete shutdown in the middle of conducting a Skype interview. While the interview itself could be salvaged (thank the lord for smartphones), the same could not be said for his computer, which had begun to emit a bit of a foul odor from the monitor, and when Kyungsoo reaches out to touch it, he’s surprised at how hot it is.

“You could probably reheat your lunch on it,” Chanyeol muses, to nobody’s question, and is ignored.

“Someone call tech,” Kyungsoo groans, shooting off a quick message to his interviewee about the technical issues.

Luckily for everyone, it’s still during normal school hours, and when someone knocks on the door, he’s surprised to find out that it’s Jongin again.

“Computer problems again?” he asks, a smirk on his lips that really looks unfortunately good on him and strides over to Kyungsoo, even though no one’s told him whose computer it was that was having the issue.

“It kinda…” Kyungsoo says weakly, shrugging, and Jongin sighs, pressing a hand to the monitor, quickly drawing it back.

“I can’t do much while this thing’s still blazing,” Jongin says, leaning on the table. “Should I stay until it’s cooled? Or would you like me to come back later?”

“Do you have class now?”

“No, and I don’t fancy going to last period, if the journ teacher’ll write me a note…”

“I’ll ask,” Kyungsoo says. “I don’t have a last period, actually, so we’ll probably be stuck here until after school gets out.”

Jongin shrugs. “Fine by me.”

Kyungsoo fetches the journ teacher, who obligingly writes Jongin the note (“anything to help the program, really, everyone needs to know how important journ is!”) and Jongin takes a seat in the office chair beside Kyungsoo’s.

“So,” Jongin says, “what grade are you in?”

“Does it matter?”

“Just trying to make conversation.”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “Junior. You?”

“Soph.”

Kyungsoo narrows his eyes. “You look old.”

“You look young.” Jongin shrugs. “Does it matter?” he says, tossing Kyungsoo’s question right back at him.

“Well, no,” Kyungsoo says, “but everyone sort of hates underclassmen on principle.”

“I thought that just applied to freshmen?”

“Freshmen are everyone’s underclassmen, so there’s extra hate on them,” Kyungsoo explains. “Actually, I feel like all the grades just hate each other, so…”

“Yeah, that’s kinda true.” Jongin shrugs. “But you seem cool, so, it’s not like everyone’s a douche.”

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. “I’m not cool. Do you see this?” He gestures around the room. “Journ kids are not cool. They like to act like they’re cool, but they’re only cool amongst themselves. Everyone else hates them. To be honest we call kind of hate each other too, but not to each other’s faces…”

Jongin nods, reaching out to test the monitor’s temperature again. “It’s cool, now. I’ll start working on it.”

“Would you prefer I go away or something, or…”

“No, you can talk. It’s kind of soothing, actually. Keeps me from going crazy while I rip wires with my bare hands.”

“…”

“I’m kidding.”

“I sure hope you are. Would you like any food? We have assorted snack foods and instant noodles.”

“Maybe later. I’d rather not get any crumbs on this.”

Kyungsoo nods, walking over to the snack cupboard to get some Cheez-its.

“So,” he says, Tupperware full of cheese-flavored bliss in his lap, “what do you do in your free time?”

Jongin twists off a screw. “I dance. I occasionally surf, but not really.”

Kyungsoo laughs. “All the girls must love you, then.”

Jongin makes a noncommittal noise, taking out a pair of fine-tipped pliers. “Not really.”

“Why not?”

Jongin says nothing, and Kyungsoo feels very much like he’s touched a nerve that shouldn’t have been touched. Silence blankets the two, and Kyungsoo fidgets as Jongin twists some wires together.

“Never mind. Sorry if I offended you—”

“Nah, man, it’s cool.” Jongin screws the cover back on and places the monitor back on its shelf. “I’m done now.”

“That was fast,” Kyungsoo remarks, and Jongin shrugs.

“No biggie. Hey, do you have any chicken flavored ramen?”

“Probably. Lemme check.”

Kyungsoo walks to the cupboard and looks, but to his dismay, the cup noodles are all on one of the higher shelves. Cursing his genetics, he reaches up, fingers brushing the edges of it, willing it to just drop—down—scoot—a—little—farther—

Suddenly, he feels the firm press of something against his back, and another hand reaches up, farther than his, and grabs hold of the cup noodle.

“Sorry,” he hears Jongin’s voice, his chest rumbling against Kyungsoo’s shoulderblades.

“I could have gotten it myself,” Kyungsoo huffs.

The two of them stand there, until Kyungsoo finally realizes that Jongin is standing right behind him and he can feel him breathing, and jerks back, his head knocking into Jongin’s chin.

“,” Jongin hisses, rubbing it with the back of his hand. “Did you really need to be so violent about it? If you wanted me to move, you could have said something.”

His words are hard, but his tone is light, and Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.

“Shut up. The hot water dispenser’s over there.” Kyungsoo waves his hand over to the sinks, and Jongin chuckles, ripping off the packaging and one-third of the lid. He dispenses the hot water in up to the line and folds the lid back over, humming to himself while he waits for the noodles to cook.

Kyungsoo fumes silently. Stupid tall people.

“Do you have any chopsticks?” Jongin calls, and Kyungsoo reaches back into the cupboard blindly and pulls out a pair of disposable chopsticks, throwing it at the younger.

“Touchy, touchy,” Jongin laughs, taking the chopsticks out of the wrapper and breaking them in half.

He even breaks chopsticks in half evenly? Kyungsoo fumes again.

Jongin peels the lid of the cup completely off, stirring the noodles while blowing on them to cool them down. “You want some?” he asks, lifting some up and proffering them.

Kyungsoo fumes.

“Suit yourself,” Jongin chuckles, beginning to eat, slurping the noodles and wincing at the heat.

Kyungsoo continues to fume, angrily stuffing a Cheez-it into his mouth and crunching.

“Can I have one of those?” Jongin asks, mouth half-full as he jerks his head towards Kyungsoo’s Cheez-its.

“Fine.”

Jongin swallows, and opens his mouth.

Kyungsoo blinks.

“…were you expecting me to feed you?”

“…yes?”

“…you douchebag. Get it yourself.”

Jongin huffs, setting the now-empty Styrofoam cup aside. “Just throw it into my mouth.”

“Is it really that taxing for you to walk over here and get some?”

“Yes? And who the says taxing?”

“Refined people.”

“Sure.”

Jongin opens his mouth again, and Kyungsoo tosses (underhand, because overhand was just asking for a disaster or two, if mandatory physical education baseball was any indication of anything).

He misses, and Jongin shrugs, picking up the fallen cracker and popping it into his mouth.

“That’s disgusting,” Kyungsoo groans. “Would it kill you to be a little more, I don’t know, sanitary? Who knows how many dog-poo-laden shoes have trekked across this floor?”

Jongin rolls his eyes. “I’ll take my chances.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone (a Galaxy S5, so he’s a Samsung sort of guy), checking the time. “It’s already 4:30. I’m gonna go now. Thanks for the ramen. See you tomorrow, maybe.”

Jongin collects his things and leaves, giving Kyungsoo a small wave as he does.

Kyungsoo fumes.

He most certainly does not like Jongin.

Nope.

Not one bit.

i never know how to end things so sorry kbye c: