San groaned as soon as the sound of his phone's alarm cut into his dreamless sleep, making him wince. His eyes slowly opened, hands blindly searching for the phone and promptly turning it off. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, blinking them awake.

It was six thirty in the morning, and since his first class started in an hour and a half, San knew he had to hurry up despite not wanting to go to school in the slightest.

Seonghwa was already out of the house by the time he'd gotten ready -- San knew it was because he had to leave for class -- so he decided to just grab an apple from the fridge instead of making himself breakfast, despite his cousin already placing the ingredients on the counter for him.

San was a terrible cook, and he just wasn't in the mood to make himself anything. He knew his body would make him regret it later, but San didn't give a shit about that right now. He hated the way he looked, but never had the appetite to eat anything.

Entering the bus after he'd waited at the stop for about five minutes, he slumped himself at the back seat and leant his head against the window, drowning out his surroundings with music.

* * *

San was asleep, dreaming about nothing once more when outside voices interrupted him. His jaw clenched, knowing it was because of the few people that'd decided to camp inside his class during the second half of lunch break. People could do that around here, as long as they didn't bring food inside.

San couldn't do anything though. Inside of school, he was as quiet as he was outside of the premises, and it wasn't like he had anyone in his class that he could talk to.

" -- and then, she just fuckin' died, Donghae, just like that. Nana had just finished making me some cookies yesterday evening since mom had to go to one of her stupid business meetings, and then she just... Collapsed. The fuck," the deep timbre of one of the most well known guys of his grade, Jung Yunho, vibrated throughout the now quiet classroom.

San couldn't help it, he looked up, seeing Yunho run a hand through his ocean blue hair, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips.

"Damn, that's horrible," a blond boy with a horrible dye job began, letting out a disbelieving laugh. "But -- cookies? What are you, eight?"

"That's what you got out of everything I just told you?" Yunho said, his lips forming a sneer. His eyes narrowed, and the blond boy visibly swallowed. "It was my Nana. She fuckin' died, you asshole." He knelt before the guy, and slammed a large threatening hand on his shoulder. "Want to pay for her death?"

The other guys surrounding them -- as well as the other students that happened to be there -- were silent, and the blond hurriedly shook his head.

"C-Course not," he replied.

"C-Course not," Yunho mocked. He let the guy go, exhaling a harsh sigh. He sank himself onto a stray seat. "Couldn't even go out for a smoke because I was so fucking pissed."

San looked away, his heart thumping erratically in his chest. He knew Yunho's grandmother, he realized. He'd seen her at some neighbourhood gathering a couple weeks before his parents had died. She'd been nice and friendly, very much unlike her grandson, and that realization that he'd probably caused her death made him want to throw up.

Subconsciously, his hands fisted a page of his notebook, shaky and uncoordinated.

San braved another glance at Yunho, only to catch the eye of the guy himself. He quickly turned around.

"Fuck, some loser was just staring at you. Yunho, did you see?"

"I fucking saw, dumbass."

San exhaled a breath, wanting to just disappear. Don't come close, don't come close, don't come close --

"Hey." A hand crashed against his back, firmly gripping his shoulder. San cringed, his pulse starting to rise. Don't fucking touch me. "Shin, is it? Why were you staring at me?"

"Bet that asshole was smiling 'cause your grandma just died," one of Yunho's friends uttered.

San wanted to vanish. His chest squeezed, his eyes focusing on nothing but the yellow pencils adorning his table. He wanted Yunho to stop touching him.

"Hey, answer me," Yunho commanded. His voice was firm, round eyes dark and void of emotion. San flinched once more, pushing himself out of his grip. "You deaf or something?"

He grabbed San's chin and forced the younger to face him. San immediately shifted his gaze, sweat starting to bead at his forehead. "Hey, asshole. Your face is familiar, do I fuckin' know you from somewhere -- "

"Yah, Jung Yunho!"

Yunho, luckily, let San's face go, turning to look at the new face that'd just entered the classroom. "What?"

"My pack of cigarettes, where'd you put it?" The voice was familiar, yet not, at the same time. San eyed the male at the door timidly, relieved that Yunho now had something else to distract him.

San's breath though, caught in his throat upon seeing the guy's face.

Jet black hair, curling around pierced ears, and a face that looked really, really pretty. His eyes were round pools of brown, but held this sort of playfulness in them that Yunho's lacked. And his lips were plump, this baby pink colour that faintly reminded San of cotton candy.

Jung Wooyoung.

"...don't have your fucking cigarettes, Wooyoung," Yunho was saying, his fists clenched. His gaze darkened. "My grandma died yesterday, the fuck would I be in the mood to smoke for?"

Wooyoung's face didn't falter -- in fact, his face never seemed to change from its neutral state throughout the many times San had seen him around school. He just sighed, his eyes still accusatory. "Woah, tough luck, dude. 'M sorry. But my cigs -- "

"You fuckin' asshole." But Yunho didn't look mad. He just roughly ruffled Wooyoung's black hair. "You always lose things."

Wooyoung jokingly swatted Yunho's hands off, that playful glint in his eyes more prominent. His gaze slithered over to San, and it was then San realized how close the guy had gotten.

Wooyoung's dryly laughed, and San's heart squeezed. "This son of a bitch didn't bother you, right?"

"The fuck do you care about him for?" Yunho was laughing, already making his way out of the class with his minions. "Dude was just staring at me. Creepy stuff. Anyway -- the hell are you doing in this class? The bell's about to ring, and the new hall monitor's got a stick up his ass 24/7."

"I'm in this class, moron," Wooyoung retorted, his gaze still fixed on San. It made him incredibly nervous.

"Thought you always skipped class?"

"Fuck off."

The bell rang at that moment, and Yunho saluted Wooyoung before walking off.

"Choi San, right?" Wooyoung asked, and San fucking jolted.

Dammit, why'd you do that, you idiot? San wanted to strangle himself, and at the same time wanted Wooyoung to just go away before he embarrassed himself further.

"W-What?" San blinked, his voice as rough as it'd been after he'd woken up from his death last night.

Wooyoung smirked, revealing a dimple. He pointed at San's school uniform. "It's on your nameplate."

San coughed, his face burning up. Before he could try and formulate a response, the math teacher entered.

The student seated close to San was more than ready to let Wooyoung have his seat as soon as the former tapped his shoulder, and San began to panic the moment the dark haired boy sat down.

"So -- " Wooyoung dropped his rather expensive looking bag on the floor. "Seatmates, huh?"

* * *

a/n: its almost therapeutic how many times i made the characters cuss. thoughts?