* * *

The ripened yellow banana staring right at Wooyoung this second looks a little too big for the condom in his hand.

In fact, there are three, the other two placed neatly on the furthest side of his table because looking at the large scrawled over their flimsy shimmery surfaces makes him a little sick. Just a little. He can't even properly look at the one in his hand; can't tear it open either.

"Mr Jeong?" a guy with shaggy blond hair at the back raises his hand. Kim Jaehyuk. Wooyoung can recognize his annoying yet domineering voice from anywhere.

The tall teacher at the front looks up from his laptop, adjusting his square specs. The nonchalant look in his eyes adds to Wooyoung's nerves, because at this point, opening a condom should be the least of everyone's worries. "Go on."

"Don't know why the girls aren't the only ones practicing. I'm not gay and I certainly am not planning on fucking some dude's ass later on."

You sound so freaking stupid, Wooyoung thinks.

The class erupts in giggles, appalled at Jaehyuk's words but ultimately entertained by it.

"Language," Mr Jeong's eyes narrow, a stark contrast to how he normally is after school whenever Wooyoung sees him at home.

But then he smiles and stands, grabbing a marker and scribbling what looks like a penis on the board. A very, very small one. The drawing alone makes Wooyoung start to break a sweat.

"What is this?" He asks.

Jaehyuk snickers. "A dick, obviously."

"Exactly," Mr Jeong keeps on smiling. "But in this case, let's call this your dick."

The chatter dims at the implication as the entire class waits with bated breaths.

But as always, Jaehyuk doesn't back down. "No way I have a small dick. Not like some people."

Even with Wooyoung seated closer to the board, he knows just who Jaehyuk is looking at. He gulps again, willing away the memory that threatens to engulf him.

"Okay, if that's what you say we'll take your word for it then," Mr Jeong continues, to Jaehyuk's chagrin and the bewildered amusement of everyone else. Even Song Mingi, sat adjacent of Wooyoung is in a fit of giggles, his first condom already rolled half-way over his banana.

Now that Wooyoung looks at it, why does Mingi's have to look like a perfectly normal-sized dick, whilst his looks like it's on steriods? It just rubs some more salt on his wounds. Metaphorical ones though, not the bruises scraped over his left knuckles currently covered in a bandage.

"If your privates aren't small like you claim them to be," the teacher continues, features quite reminiscent of Yunho's mocking simper, "and you don't have the micropenis on this board either, then I advise you learn real well about covering up and protecting yourself. Or are you lying?"

Jaehyuk is frowning, but the tips of his ears are flushed at people now speculating about the possible size of his schlong. "I am not."

"Carry on then."

"Yunho's dad speaks like he came from Victorian-era England, but Yunho can never speak two sentences without cursing a little," Mingi leans in to whisper. He has to, because while Yunho resembles his dad a lot everyone else has never connected the dots. And Yunho (who isn't here right now because he's a little sick) wants it to stay that way. 

Wooyoung lightly chuckles at his friend's words, but even at Mingi's attempts at smoothing out his nerves, anxiety still clouds his mind like thick smoke.

Mingi's gaze falls on Wooyoung's bare banana, then at the unopened condom in his hands. His eyes soften in understanding. Scratching the back of his dark hair, his eyes dart across the Sex-Ed classroom.

"Here, hand it over. Mr Jeong will never know."

"I always know," Yunho's dad retorts, back in his seat. "Please, students, apply the condoms carefully. If it rips, use the extras. But that is unlikely to happen as they are resilient."

"Dang it," Mingi exhales.

But then he rips open another condom before Mr Jeong can catch him and passes it to Wooyoung.

"Thanks," Wooyoung smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Wiping his clammy hands over his jeans, he proceeds to roll said condom over the banana as slowly as he can. But then it gets stuck.

A pint of sweat dripping down his forehead, he removes his condensed glasses and wipes down the lenses. Fuck, he can't fucking do this.

Mingi's done with his banana, but then unrolls it and rolls it back down again so Wooyoung can get the memo.

"I know how to roll it!" Wooyoung snaps, but no louder than a frustrated whisper because he doesn't want Yunho's dad picking up on their conversation.

"Then just do it," Mingi answers. He applies the condom again, and god it looks so wrong.

"It's too fucking big -- "

"Silence when working on the bananas," Mr Jeong commands, and Wooyoung's back straightens.

He reaches for the banana to force the contraceptive down but then it snaps.

Someone howls in laughter from the right. Wooyoung's entire face lights on fire.

"Three minutes left before I assign your project for the month," Mr Jeong states, clicking about on his laptop.

Heart stuttering, he removes the second condom and places it steadily over the enlarged fruit. Inhale, exhale.

Wooyoung has never had a problem taking out the condom, or even applying it on the fruit of the day, honestly (because they've done this for years already), but the problem lies in what the banana represents. Because whenever he looks at the damn fruit he feels sick to his stomach as his heart freezes over. He feels so fucking uncomfortable whenever something about 'doing the deed' comes up, and it's nothing but pathetic at this point. He's turning eighteen for crying out loud.

His hands tremor as he gradually fills the banana with the new condom, biting his lip so hard it begins to hurt. But then he tenses as he hears a clear of a throat at his back and then undeniable gagging sounds coming from one of Jaehyuk's friends, no doubt.

"Ignore them Woo," Mingi says. Since Yunho's dad isn't looking he flips them off, but that barely does anything. "Fucking assholes."

Wooyoung just shakes his head. He has other things to worry about than the guys who love making jokes about his perceived sexual status. Like succeeding at wrapping a well-endowed banana, for example.

In a few seconds, he's done. It's over. Finally.

"Sexually transmitted infections," Mr Jeong announces as he passes some homework around. Wooyoung cringes at the pictures he sees. "It's a pair project, and you don't get to choose your partners. They're chosen by a random name generator."

Groans shoot across the classroom but are quieted by Mr Jeong raising one finger. He heads for his laptop, clicking something on it. "You get to research the dangers of them, how they're transmitted and such. I'll call the names and say which one you'll have to work on."

Wooyoung already knows there isn't a chance he'll get paired with Mingi or Yunho, his only friends in this class and in general. Though Mr Jeong is often accommodating when Wooyoung sleeps over, he doesn't show any favours whenever school is involved.

As the man continues to call names, Wooyoung continues to stare at the banana on his table. He remembers the days he used to like eating them -- at school even, but that was before they became the pinnacle of dick jokes. He can never look at the fruit the same way, plus he's no longer a big fan of the taste anyway.

In fact, he's just uncomfortable with it. With everything in here, in fact. And he's tired of it.

"For gonorrhea, it's Jung Wooyoung and..." Mr Jeong pauses for a second. "Choi San?"

It turns so quiet you can almost hear a pin drop. Wooyoung doesn't know what scares him more: the name of the STI or the guy he's supposed to now work with.

He can feel multiple eyes on him as Yunho's father clears his throat.

"How ironic," Jaehyuk sneers, a wicked look in his eyes.

"Enough, Kim," Mr Jeong raises his voice, and then looks at Wooyoung, expression apologetic. "Since you'll be working with him now, Wooyoung, please tell Choi San that if he misses any more classes he'll have his grades redacted."

Wooyoung manages a stiff nod, bit it's like all his limbs have been stapled shut to his chair. He thinks of Choi so-freaking-pretty San, and the not-so-pretty gossip that surrounds him wherever he goes. He's certainly popular -- not because he's nice or friendly or because he throws the best parties -- but because of the amount of people who want to sleep with him.

The banana on Wooyoung's desk seems to have grown even larger, a veiny, throbbing monster in its stead that taunts and jeers at him, reminding him how hopeless he is in that area.

He hardly registers Mingi nudging him, hardly notices Mr Jeong calling his name either. When he finally comes back to his senses, he hears a scattering of laughter.

"Jesus, Jung," Jaehyuk whistles. "Fantasizing already?"

"Detention slip for you, and maybe even a small chat with your parents," Yunho's dad counters, but Wooyoung can't revel in Kim Jaehyuk's angry retorts because he's now seething on the inside. Pissed at how everyone, especially Jaehyuk and his lackeys, thinks of him as some joke.

"Woo, you okay?" Mingi's asking, but Wooyoung doesn't answer. He says nothing as the class ends, even as Mr Jeong pulls him aside and ensures Jaehyuk will get reprimanded because of his comments. It doesn't help, because Wooyoung knows fully well people will always have something to say once you're thought of as beneath them.

"Pretty sure we can trust Yunho's dad," Mingi says as he and Wooyoung exit the class. He walks to the left of him, acting as a shield from the other students in case one of them tries to do anything. "And, after school ends today, we'll go get those burgers you like and crash at Yunho's place. It's on me."

Wooyoung forces himself to nod. He feels like a marionette now, empty and void. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Woo." But the taller boy doesn't get another word in. Someone steps in and heads for a locker towards the end of the hall, their black painted nails busy twisting in the combination.

Wooyoung gulps. Choi San. His heart throbs, uneasy.

"I'll tell Mr Jeong to switch us if you'd like." But Wooyoung isn't listening anymore. All of a sudden, his feet begin to move.

"Wooyoung -- "

Wooyoung's walking towards San now, and he can't fucking stop. He can't stop.

He can't even make out Choi San's expression as his gaze is on the guy's boots the entire time, and before he knows it he's right in front of him.

What the hell are you doing? Why did you even walk over you dumb fuck.

Wooyoung is now so close he can smell San's cologne -- something faint but intoxicating -- and he nearly jumps out of his skin when the locker slams shut.

"Hello?" A voice enters, deep and husky and suddenly Wooyoung regrets ever doing this all the more. He swallows thickly when a hand waves in front of his face.

"Uh," Wooyoung coughs, looking up. He only catches a flicker of San's sculpted face and hard eyes before he's looking away again. He rubs his neck. "We have something to do in Sex-Ed. Together."

Choi San is silent, all mysterious looking and intimidating in his bomber jacket, leather jeans and too tight shirt. Wooyoung feels like he's being judged at this moment. Fuck me.

"Sexually transmitted infections," Wooyoung decides to add after the quietness between them starts to prolong.

San still doesn't reply.

"Gonorrhea, and all." Wooyoung accidentally meets the guy's eyes, so his gaze drops and somehow lands on his lips.

Oh god no. He wants to smack himself. Why did you have to say that --

"Is that all?" San's lips part to say, and Wooyoung hurriedly looks downwards, past his tapered waist, his hips and then lower.

His cheeks burn when he realizes he's now staring at Choi San's crotch.

A plethora of bananas wriggle about in his mind.

And to make matters worse, San appears to notice because he's now frowning. In fact, he looks furious.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He seethes, tone so venomous and harsh it takes Wooyoung aback.

Wooyoung raises his hands in defense. "I-I wasn't -- it isn't what you think -- "

"God, Jung Wooyoung, just fuck off."

Wooyoung never expected San to know his name, given with how subpar his attendance is, and this fact makes him feel worse. He feels so embarrassed.

"I never meant to stare at -- " he stops himself before he angers San further. His lungs feel screwed shut, and every breath feels like a hassle. "I'm so sorry. So sorry. I-I'd just wanted to say Mr Jeong wants you attend his classes more often, but I couldn't look at your face. N-Not because you're ugly or anything, b-but because..."

"Because what?" San's brows rise, jaw clenching. God, when did he get so close?

It only makes Wooyoung aware of their height difference, in the worst way.

Wooyoung can't say anything, even if he wants to. Even if shallow worry dims San's glare at his obvious struggle with forming the words.

Something grips his arm right then, and he soon sees Mingi, his lips pursed. "We gotta go, Wooyoung."

Instantly San's back to looking stern, and walks off with his bag before Wooyoung can reply.

And right now, at this very moment, Wooyoung wants to dig a grave for himself and get very comfy inside it.

I'm a fucking idiot.

* * *

a/n: thoughts?