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Seokmin is self-aware.
There is no getting over on him when he knows he is complicit in his own decisions and holds himself accountable. Never blind. But that’s the problem: being so preoccupied with himself that he forgets everything that surrounds him.
Sometimes he gains a sort of mindfulness that comes in the shape of worrying about what others might think, a heightened awareness, and the whole world opens up for him. Like when he’s speeding to a lecture because he slept through his alarm, and he almost falls asleep standing up on the bus and has to apologize for accidentally stepping on the man in front of him, who accepts it with a grunt, and bumps into students on campus because he’s checking the time on his phone while jogging to the building he was supposed to be in eighteen minutes ago. He forgets his body; it happens. But all that self-awareness hits him like a tidal wave when he starts mulling over how late he already is.
He enters the lecture hall late with no excuses surfacing from his mind, and bows his head to the professor, putting on an awkward smile when he says sorry. He means it, quite embarrassed that he’s late and panting a little. He hopes that would make the professor take pity on his disheveled state, and the universe must be on his side today because that’s exactly what happens. She lets it pass with a nod and Seokmin is glad for whatever he's done in his past life that this life was kind enough to allow him this. He promises to himself to never be late again to save himself the awkwardness and the guilt, deeply aware of everyone staring as he makes his way to his usual seat.
He sits next to Seungkwan, and leaning forward behind him is Mingyu, both with matching expectant faces. Waiting for the explanation as to why he was late. They like to bet, sometimes. He slows down his breathing and fixes his black-rimmed glasses when he notices them fog up with his own hot breath, making them more useless than they already are since he doesn't need them.
"You'll never guess what," he says.
"Your dog ate your homework," Mingyu tries to joke, voice hushed. Neither of them laughs with him, so he nudges Seungkwan to at least get a reaction. Seungkwan flicks his arm.
"You finally showered," Seungwkan whispers.
"Ding ding! Found a clean pair of underwear in my pots and pans drawer— no, yeah, I know. Don’t ask because I'm ninety-eight percent sure it wasn't me who left them there."
Seungkwan rolls his eyes. "Then who?"
"The underwear-loving goblin that lives under my bed, who else,” Seokmin says before realizing he forgot a pen and asking Mingyu for one, who always carries three just in case someone needs one. “Anyway, I found them at, like, three in the morning and I could finally shower… so, you were right about that one. Yay."
"Good for you, and us, who have to see and smell you almost every day," Mingyu says, wiping Seokmin's smile off his face. If it wasn't for Seungkwan creating a wall between them, he'd kick him in the shin. Lovingly, of course. "I'm so serious,” Mingyu says, unseriously. “No, really, the offer’s still up. You need to learn your way around washing machines."
“I’m a habitué of the Washy Time laundromat, and I plan it staying that way. I am no traitor.”
Mingyu shakes his head. “What are we going to do with him?” he asks Seungkwan, who puts up two hands as if shielding himself from them. This is the reason why the three of them take turns when it comes to being in the middle: being what Seunkgwan once named ‘The Wall’ is no easy feat.
“The laundromat owners have a child to feed,” Seokmin says, leaning forward. “You are so heartless.”
“Shut up,” Mingyu says.
“No, you shut up.”
Seungkwan isn't paying attention anymore, eyes up front now that the professor could finally set up the projector with the help of some students sitting in front of the class and some girl on the back guiding her. Seokmin sticks his tongue out at Mingyu and the conversation dies there, for now. It’ll happen once more when Seokmin has other plans crushed by his bad financial decisions that lead to a lack of clean laundry, he is sure.
The lecture starts, properly this time, and he tries to pay attention. He really does. But he's barely slept, he's worried about his next class for which he didn’t finish his readings and this lecture is boring. The professor keeps spiraling into a subject that has not much to do with the lecture, like the plot of a drama she watched once that has some historical weight that could help contextualize the situation she was talking about before. He has no idea what she was talking about before. He has to steer himself into focus when she barely does and it is hard. His interest picks up when she mentions her vacation and beaches. He does not remember being to the beach— the last time he went he was only five and the only details he recalls are sand and the sticky feeling of his aunt’s hand against his nape as he clung to her for dear life because a man wearing a Halloween mask said his name and made him cry. He misses the rest of what the professor says. He tries to catch up again but there’s no use. He is grasping at—
A voice pierces through his thoughts and makes him press pause, like the sight of the moon on a sunny day. "You're getting on my nerves. Big time."
His pen almost falls from his grasp. He didn’t even realize he was tapping it non-stop, all fidgety and antsy. Surprise makes his cheeks flare, a blush like a gasoline fire.
He slowly circles around on his chair to look at the person who said it. It's the guy with the bored face and pretty eyes, who glares at Seokmin and makes him feel like a shellfish that lost its shell.
Mingyu told Seokmin once, "He's gonna hate our asses by the end of the semester."
"What? Who?"
"Don't turn, dumbass," Seungkwan hissed.
"He is right behind you and while we were talking he was really, really focused on the lecture. I'm talking about playing sudoku laser focus,” Mingyu explained. “Aish, I wonder if he could even hear, with us talking in front of him."
Now Seokmin is too startled to feel embarrassed.
He doesn't realize he's staring openly at the guy who just declared Seokmin was annoying him until the professor clears her throat. “Wonwoo, do you have anything to say?”
Like a stain, red crawls across the guy’s neck. “No,” he says, making himself small on his chair. Annoyance is clear on his face, Seokmin thinks as he watches him focus on his notebook, his chin hanging on his hand like dead weight on a delicate scale, and eyes away from Seokmin.
And well, now he feels like he’s an inconvenience to this guy— Wonwoo.
The paint on the bench peels in layers, like a bad sunburn. Sometimes Seokmin accelerates the process by tearing off the flaky varnish. It sticks to his clothes and hands every time. But this afternoon he takes out his frustrations on a tangerine. He drives his nail into the peel of it eagerly, parched from a long day of lectures and overthinking.
Seungkwan checks himself on his phone screen, moving it around under the shade of the tree to find the perfect angle to find his reflection and fix his bucket hat. He puts his phone down and sighs at Seokmin. "What has that tangerine done to you?"
The light reflecting off Seungkwan’s phone blinds him momentarily. "Huh?"
"What's your problem?" Seungkwan asks gently. He is the only person Seokmin has met who is able to set that question in front of him like it's made of porcelain. What’s your problem? comes off as something caring and ripens into a, What’s on your mind?
So he slows down and looks up at the tree above them, thinking. "I just don't get it. What have I done to him that you two haven't done?"
Seungkwan holds the end of the peel that’s coming off in a spiral. “You mean Jeon Wonwoo.”
It isn’t a question but Seokmin says, “Yeah,” anyway.
“Well.” Seungkwan crosses his legs. “He sits behind you, so, I don’t know. Closest target?”
“Mingyu is louder than me.”
“Uh… Mingyu knows how to behave.”
“Barely.” Seokmin gives the first tangerine slice to Seungkwan who accepts it with an open palm. Watching Seungkwan hum and nod approvingly at the taste makes his senses collide at the anticipation of his first slice. He eats the second slice and the tangy taste floods his mouth.
His shoulders sag with the weight of being the only target of Wonwoo’s antipathy, or aversion, or disgust. He doesn’t know how bad it is but he wants to know, desperately, and that’s why he can’t stop thinking about it. A woman strolls in front of them and the sight of the Border Terrier she’s walking pacifies him. The dog trips, clumsy on its short legs, but recovers quickly. Seungkwan coos and Seokmin smiles and says hi but the woman doesn't notice them and then the dog is gone. They’re both left starting at its wagging tail.
Seungkwan says, "Just say sorry? He doesn’t seem that bad, and to be quite honest, I think he’s just making you feel all bothered ‘cause you think he’s hot.”
Seokmin’s ears flame. “That’s… I do not.”
Seunkwan hums. He looks like he wants to argue but Seokmin is glad he doesn’t. Not because he thinks Wonwoo is hot— not that he doesn’t either but that’s not the point here and he doesn’t want them to derail from the subject.
“What’s his Instagram?” Seungkwan asks instead. “I’m guessing you found it.”
Seokmin licks the fingers clean and dries them on his jeans. He takes out his phone with sticky fingers and opens up Instagram. He hasn't forgotten Wonwoo's username, not only was it easy to remember, but he knows it from memory because he searched his profile a few times, hoping that for some reason Wonwoo had unprivated it. He never did.
He does not tell Seungkwan this when he twists his phone around to show him because Seungwkan would tease and say he has a crush. He does not. He has a fixation, he’d admit as much but Seungwkan would call it a crush— same thing, he'd say. It’s different for Seokmin. He just wants to understand why Wonwoo doesn’t like him so he can fix it. Make it better. Make it up. Maybe even over coffee and apologetic smiles. Like putting a bandaid over a scratch. Explaining this to Seungwkan would not only be like peeling himself bare but it’d include hearing words he’s heard before: You are loved, and by many at that, is that not enough?
Seungkwan comes closer, eyes turning into slits. He wiggles his fingers in the air, shiny with juice, and Seokmin knows they will leave their spot under the shade soon once Seungkwan starts complaining about feeling gross. This is why Seokmin peels fruits for him, he doesn't mind the stickiness. "Mhm," Seungkwan contemplates. "What a lame username."
"Got it from Soonyoung-hyung,” Seokmin explains. “He posted a few pics with him.”
He turns his phone to show him the one he found in Soonyoung's highlighted stories, where Wonwoo has his arm over his shoulders and they’re making silly faces, and accidentally hits follow.
The word PENDING stares at him. Fuck.
He doesn’t realize he swore out loud until Seungkwan frowns in confusion. Understanding dawns on his face when he looks down at Wonwoo’s profile and Seokmin’s pending request. "Just take it back,” he says quickly. “Cancel it cancel it cancel it."
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck. What if he already got the notification?"
"Maybe he won't if you take it back."
Seokmin is hysterical, and spits his next words like tangerine seeds, "How are you so sure?"
"How are you!?"
He stares at his phone for a good five seconds before Seungkwan cancels the request for him. Just to be safe, Seokmin also changes his username and display name and description and every bit of information in his profile, including his profile picture. He also goes private and deactivates for good measure.
“What will we do with him?” Seungkwan asks Seokmin and Mingyu giggles, hiding behind Seokmin. All of them know Mingyu is pretending to not believe in aliens just to fuck with Seungkwan and it’s that knowledge that's making Seungkwan exasperated. Seokmin acts like the wall between them, trying his hardest not to burst into laughter as he holds Seungwkan back from leaning over him and throttling Mingyu in the lecture hall.
The rest of the exchange gets lost to him when he sees Wonwoo. He catches his gaze, sharp as a razor, before he fixes himself. Wonwoo isn’t wearing glasses today, and for some reason he does not look happy, entering the hall like a shadow, all in black. Seokmin wonders if he forgot his glasses at home because he’s never seen them without them before. He wonders how bad his sight is. Could he see Seokmin? Pick him apart from a distance, from everyone else?
Seokmin deflates and hisses, “Let’s behave, please.”
“Talk for yourself,” Mingyu scoffs but he does as he’s told. He’s all bark, no bite; so yes, maybe Seungkwan is right. Unlike Mingyu, Seokmin needs to be scolded to behave.
When Wonwoo comes closer, Seokmin tries with a tight-lipped smile. A shy bow of his head. He’d try with a ‘sorry’ but Wonwoo barely looks at him before sitting behind him, apathetic and closed off. If he got a notification of a follow request from Seokmin, he does not show it. Regardless, Seokmin feels red flooding his cheeks like a hot geyser.
If he thinks too long about it, and he does, Seokmin was marked for annihilation like an orange picked for juice the moment he sat in front of Wonwoo.
Is he as aware of Seokmin as Seokmin is aware of himself? Is Wonwoo aware of himself and how his presence affects Seokmin?
That is how he spends the lecture, paying only attention to Wonwoo eclipsing him.
He wants to apologize, he really does. But what is he supposed to say? Sorry for being a nuisance? Sorry for being so loud? Sorry for whatever I did? Sorry, please, like me?
The need to talk to Wonwoo grows exponentially the longer he sits in that lecture. He just doesn’t know how or where to start.
Before he can even bring himself to do it, the bell rings and relief washes through his body. He feels as light as paper tissue as Mingyu and Seungkwan resume their bickering and Seungkwan wraps his arms around Mingyu's neck in an embrace. Seokmin’s laugh gushes out of him.
The opportunity to talk to Wonwoo comes like a burglar and disappears before he even realizes it was there. When he looks around, Wonwoo has already drifted away.
Seokmin is tired. More accurately, his state after two four-hour long classes, one right after the other, is like that of a shriveled apple, skin thin and all dented in.
He jumps a little, fixing his backpack’s straps which now feel like an extension of his body, and treads the park diagonally. The desire path he takes is only a scar through grass and trees. The sun offers no warmth anymore as it threatens to hide behind all the tall buildings and disappear completely before he gets home.
Within moments the lights of the park flick on and it’s walking your dog hour. He could sit and enjoy watching the puppies running around but his head feels like a sore tooth and all he wants to do is go home and peel his clothes off and take a long, well-deserved shower. He still looks around though and as he does a figure on the grass catches his eye.
Wonwoo sits crosslegged on the grass with two people that are facing away from Seokmin, unrecognizable to him. But not Wonwoo; Seokmin could never miss him. He’s been put together with care. His face has a sharpness, an idealness to it like a little apricot, something nature made just right.
One of his friends must say something funny because his other friend leans back, laughing, and soon Wonwoo breaks into laughter too. He unfolds like a peony. The corner of his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches up, features laced tight like a shoe.
Wonwoo’s laugh is a ridiculous sound, like he took a class to learn how to laugh from a cartoon and dropped it halfway through the course. It’s an even more ridiculous sight.
Seokmin’s heart bumps against his sternum like a bee against a clean window. Like it wants to escape him. He almost trips and falls face-first on the desire path. He speeds up and prays Wonwoo didn’t notice him again, entertained with whatever his friends are gushing about.
His day gets worse because then he begins to ruminate. If Seungkwan asked him if he had a crush now, he isn’t so sure how the conversation would go, what his answer would be.
Seokmin checks himself on his front-facing camera and realizes he probably looks dumb with a cap on when the sun isn’t even out. It’s a cloudy day so it’s painfully obvious that he’s trying to cover the disaster that is his hair. The humidity made it curl on his nape, and Mingyu pulled lightly on it before he left him with a wink and a good luck wish.
“You don’t need it,” Seungkwan said, linking his arm with Mingyu’s. “Just be as sincere as you always are.”
And with that, Seokmin is left alone outside the lecture hall, waiting.
Their midterm is near and Seokmin is close to losing his sanity every time he sits in front of Wonwoo. For crush-related reasons, yes, but also because he can’t grasp a single concept. He could ask his friends for help but studying together has never been a good idea. The last time they tried, they somehow found themselves at a noraebang, too drunk to remember they were supposed to study in the first place. So, this will be like pulling two bandaids off with one yank: Wonwoo, and passing this class.
Wonwoo is the last one out, his stride is light and rapid, like the hops of a cat. And yes, Seungkwan is always right, Seokmin thinks Wonwoo is hot, even more so from a short range, in sweatpants and a shirt, with fluffy straight hair and a complexion like the moon, two acne scars under his cheekbone.
Seokmin clears his throat. Wonwoo looks up and meets his eyes for the first time since he told Seokmin he was getting on his nerves.
He is leaning against the wall next to the exit and he probably looks like a dumbass. Oh, he’s already regretting doing this. He takes off his hat and rakes his fingers through his hair, trying to get a grip on himself. He tries to exhale, and it comes out as a huff.
People really don’t sit with their own behaviors or just genuinely don’t care. Seokmin doesn’t want to be that kind of person. He wants to make it right, and not only because he likes Wonwoo so much he’s becoming stupid.
“Listen,” he tries. It's always about trying. “I know you don’t like me.”
Wonwoo’s face is delicate with something akin to fear, as if it might shatter like white china. “Um.”
He can do this.
“There’s only a couple of days until the midterm,” Seokmin lets out and then words won’t stop swarming out. “And you’ve got one of the highest grades in the class, and I’m kind of iffy on the last chapter we covered.” Wonwoo gives him a look that says, No wonder why. “So I was wondering if you could maybe help me study?” Wonwoo stares at him blankly, and he feels like a fool, all fidgety and not knowing what to do with his hands. “I figured we could, y’know, start over?”
Wonwoo squints. “Start over?”
Seokmin can only blink at Wonwoo's confusion. It's contagious. Like, what?
“You don’t like me? Glared at me in the first few weeks of class?” He laughs at how stupid he sounds, asking instead of stating. Now he’s doubting how much of it is true and how much is his perception of the truth. “You have a very scary demeanor,” he reasons and regrets it as soon as he says it because now Wonwoo looks like Seokmin has backed him against the wall.
“Oh,” Wonwoo says, and licks his lips. “That’s just my face I don’t hate you, I promise.”
Seokmin believes him. If not for the way he is having trouble making eye contact, for the way he glances at the floor momentarily and fixes his glasses with his middle finger and tells Seokmin, almost like it’s a secret, “I like you a lot, actually.”
A grin spreads across Seokmin's face. He lits up like a sunburst. "You have a very convoluted way of flirting, you know."
Wonwoo blushes and does a terrible job at concealing it. It would be impossible to by the way he ducks his head and how he speaks, softly. "I've had better luck over the years. I haven’t really met anyone like you before.”
“Oh?” Seokmin feels like the sun, ready to set. “Really, now?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I just meant you’re annoyingly... bright.”
The relief reaches his solar plexus and his laughter bubbles up, up, up.
Wonwoo actually likes him. He smiles, and Seokmin can still feel him eclipsing him but not in a bad way. Not at all. There’s a sobering warmth to him, and it only takes him a moment of dousing in his presence to come back down to his senses and the moment in hand.
Wonwoo fiddles with the strap of his backpack and nods once, a little awkward, and Seokmin realizes he’s been staring and smiling like a freak.
He fixes his hat for what he realizes is the third time. “So, hah.”
Wonwoo opens his eyes slightly, expectant, but Seokmin forgot what he was supposed to say.
“This is— we are really awkward, sorry.” Seokmin chuckles. “I made it even more awkward just now.”
Wonwoo cocks his head to the side. “I–”
“I mean no, we aren’t awkward,” Seokmin says, too quickly. “Uh. You know what I mean. Yes, we are but not really?”
“Yes, but not really,” Wonwoo agrees, smiling, and searches in his pocket for something. Seokmin thinks he’s about to take out his phone but he takes out a pen. “Phone’s out,” he explains when he asks for his hand and Seokmin gives it without thinking. Wonwoo’s spindly fingers circle his wrist as he scribbles his number on his forearm.
Seokmin only registers what happened a few minutes after Wonwoo left with the promise of studying together.
“So, is it a date?” Mingyu asks, sounding almost as delighted as Seokmin himself when he asked the same thing to Wonwoo. He tries not to smile now when he tells Mingyu that yes, indeed, it is a date.
Wonwoo keeps his face open.
He’s actually easy to read, and Seokmin only came to this realization once he stopped worrying (too much) about himself. He redirects some of that attention to Wonwoo. Sometimes all he has to do is regard him carefully, look for the tilt of his head, the hidden smile, or the crack of his knuckles. Sometimes, more often, he has to ask.
“Good question,” Wonwoo says, frowning at his notes. He flips through them but doesn’t seem to find the answer.
They are in a corner of the group study room, incredibly close to each other, and Seokmin has mostly been trying to understand Wonwoo’s handwriting and struggling to keep his heartbeat steady for the last ten minutes since Wonwoo decided to sit next to him, instead of in front of him. His perfume smells faintly of peaches and blood orange, and it’s very distracting. It's easy to lose himself when he's with him, especially like this, up close with his heart open for Wonwoo to read.
Wonwoo sighs and, there it is, the crack of his knuckles.
“Wonwoo-hyung,” Seokmin whispers and Wonwoo looks up at him with these gentle and expectant eyes. He wonders if Wonwoo’s aware of the things that gaze does to him. “Um. You have no idea what you’re doing, don’t you?”
“Nope,” Wonwoo says simply, glancing at his indecipherable notes.
“Then how do you have one of the highest grades?”
He folds his lips in. “I have no idea,” he says and the worst thing is that he means it.
“Oh, hyung, we are helpless.” Seokmin tries to contain his laughter, and his cheeks hurt with a radiant kind of pain. “Okay… um, we’ll figure it out.”
“Okay, sure.”
“Okay,” he repeats, nodding. "Okay!"
Wonwoo smiles, his front teeth slightly peeking through. “Have I made things awkward again?”
He's playfully annoying, and Seokmin has been taking all the teasing with minimal whining. He tried to explain why he thought things were awkward between them a few times only to have Wonwoo say he was only joking. It’s ok, really, Seokmin enjoys the teasing. He enjoys teasing back too, but not with words.
Seokmin teases by touching. Like when he tells Wonwoo not to be like that and their hands graze and Wonwoo leaves his hand where it is, in the space between them, waiting. Seokmin knits their fingers together eventually, thumb tracing patterns on the back of his hand. Wonwoo grins like the moon, just barely there, and Seokmin smiles back and doesn’t let go.