Chapter 34.
 

Kyungsoo wasn’t sure what to expect when it came to Jongin. He never was, which in itself was one of the problems he struggled to reconcile on an almost daily basis. Every time he came face to face with the teen he found himself unable to keep up with the bouts of unexplained anger, of unexpected vulnerability, the harshness, the tenderness - Jongin’s moods were complicated and erratic and although he often looked assured and self confident, Kyungsoo had come to understand that this was not entirely the case. Jongin’s surface was beautiful, like water that had been hit by sunlight — his attractive exterior distracted others from seeing what lay beneath. 

But Kyungsoo had always been cautious. This was an aspect of his personality that extended to any and all areas of his life. Murky water still possessed the capability to shine even if beneath the initial sunlit sparkle was something unpleasant. And Kyungsoo knew that the same could be said for people — Jongin being one of them. Swirling beneath the attractive and assured persona Jongin had created for himself was a considerable amount of turmoil and unhappiness that Kyungsoo knew, if he wasn’t careful of, had the capability to creep and coil around him and drag him under too. Jongin was incredibly emotionally repressed, and until he learnt to deal with his feelings he would continue to lash out, hurt, and push away those around him. 

So when Kyungsoo knocked on Jongin’s bedroom door (after spending a considerable amount of time standing foolishly in front of it as he attempted to sort through his thoughts and wrack up his guts for whatever confrontation lay beyond), he didn’t know what he’d open the door to find, let alone know the response he would receive from the teen. All options were on the table. Not waiting for a response, in case he chickened out, Kyungsoo grabbed the handle and opened the door. 

“I told you, Joonmyeon —“ Jongin was sitting at a desk on the left of the room, positioned next to a large window that overlooked the estates lavish back garden. In front of him was an open book, held with one hand. He was wearing a white cotton shirt and matching loose fit pants — pyjamas, Kyungsoo realised — and his hair was tousled and slightly damp, obviously he had just gotten out of the shower. “— I’m perfectly fine. Will you please stop worrying? I’m not a child, I don’t need to be coddled.”

For a moment, Kyungsoo simply stood speechless, mouth ajar as his mind whirred. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say. 

In the end, all that managed to get past his lips was a rather graceless: “I, uh, Joonmyeon’s downstairs.” Internally, Kyungsoo envisioned himself turning to the nearest wall to beat his head against it in embarrassment. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the time to enact this, as Jongin spun on him with widened eyes.

“Mr. Do?” His tone was tinged with an almost childlike anxiety and Kyungsoo’s heart twinged in his chest.

“Still being formal? its not like I’m not your teacher anymore.” He smiled weakly at the teen.

Jongin’s face seemed to harden at that, and Kyungsoo almost wished he had said nothing. It would have been easier if he had just gone on in ignorance — he could have just ignored his head and heart and left without so much as another glance or word in the direction of the difficult teen. But he knew that if he had followed through with such a course of action, it would have plagued him. Kyungsoo swallowed nervously. “Joonmyeon mentioned you’ve been a little out of sorts lately and I was worried.”

For a moment Jongin’s expression was raw, as if he had not expected Kyungsoo to ever think of him. As quickly as it appeared, however, he seemed to fight it off and replace it with a hardened mask. “You were worried?” Jongin’s tone implied heavily that he found this somehow insulting. 

Hearing the harshness in Jongin’s words did something to Kyungsoo — he couldn’t help it, a temporary flare of anger seemed to ignite in his chest and burn its way up and out from between his heart shaped lips. “Yes, I was worried, because I care for you. Why is that so hard for you to accept? You’re always doing this to me, I say something from my heart and you have to shove it back into my face.”

For a moment they stared at each other, the short distance between them seeming to crackle with tension. But then, much to Kyungsoo’s surprise, Jongin seemed to wilt. It was rather jarring to physically see all of his usual sharpness and bravado draining out of him, the walls, so to speak, coming down. “Why don’t you take a seat, Mr. Do?” Jongin made to stand up to give the chair he sat on to his teacher, But Kyungsoo fluttered his hands and the teen slumped back down and instead motioned at the bed wearily, his expression suddenly exhausted and tone dull. “Sorry I don’t have another chair to offer you, its not like I have guests coming to see me often.”

Kyungsoo moved to sit on the edge of the bed quickly before Jongin had the time to withdraw his offer, shooting the teen a quick but grateful smile once settled. “This is perfectly fine, Jongin, I’m the one intruding, after all.” 

Jongin said nothing, instead opting to swivel the luxurious leather seat he was sitting in towards Kyungsoo slowly. It looked more like something that would be used by a high level compny CEO rather than a high school senior, but then again, Kyunsoo eyed his surroundings, taking in Jongin’s bedroom — it was all rather impersonal. A large bed fitted with plain white sheets, a built in wardrobe that was firmly closed, a desk and chair, all perfectly organised — Kyungsoo turned his attention back to the teen, surprised by how sad it made him feel. Jongin’s room was all too perfect, to the point of feeling bare; most teenagers would have rooms scattered with clothes (or a pile, dropped unceremoniously onto the floor from the chair, which, in Kyungsoo’s humble opinion, was the universal storage place of unfolded clothes), the bed would be crumpled and unmade or only hastily made, there would be personal objet scattered here and there, giving the room an overall sense of being lived in, and piles of school textbooks and sheets on the desk in a haphazard mess. Kyungsoo thought back to his own bedroom when he had been in high school — he had hd posters tacked to his walls and empty packets of food that he had and his friends would have consumed late into the night as they played computer games together. Unlike him, however, was Jongin — the teen before him seemed to make an effort to maintain a detachment. It was if he were living in a hotel room and never felt the need to unpack fully and make the room his own.

“What brings you here, Mr. Do?” Jongin asked, his tone cautious. Kyungsoo looked away from his surroundings and back to the beautiful teen who sat before him, platinum hair still damp, dark eyes unreadable but searching, soft white cotton against olive skin making him appear so much younger and vulnerable. Kyungsoo felt his lips turn down involuntarily.

“I felt bad, Jongin.” Kyungsoo murmurs at last, wringing his hands together as he stared at his shoes on the polished hardwood floor. He tried to think of the words to say, of the sentences he could string together to convey what he wanted, but Jongin cut in, almost sharply.

“I don’t want your pity, Mr. Do.” 

Kyungsoo looked up at the teen. “I’m sorry, Jongin — you hold me in much higher esteem than I deserve. I’m a selfish person, I’ve come to see you because I don’t want to feel bad.” Pleading with his eyes, Kyungsoo implored the teen to hear what it was