Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I've always been a quiet kid—the kind who prefers to watch from the sidelines and stay silent, even when I probably should say something. I was never the type to show big emotions or feelings, maybe because I don’t really feel them that deeply. I have this rare condition called Alexithymia, and it kind of blocks me from experiencing certain emotions—like love, sadness, anger, or joy.

Ever since I was a baby, my mom took me to all kinds of specialists when she noticed I didn’t react like the other kids. It was weird to her that I didn’t smile or cry in moments that usually made other kids do that. So yeah, I guess I’ve been a bit of a challenge for her since I was really young.

Switching schools and moving cities was always a bit hard, but because of my condition, it had to be done. And this time wasn’t any different. Today, I was heading to yet another new school. The last one wasn’t great—kids kept messing with me, making jokes because of the way I am. It was driving my mom crazy. So, we decided to change schools again, even though it was halfway through the year. That morning, she dropped me off early at the school gate, and while she was saying goodbye, I felt this small wave of anxiety hit me.

As I walked through the school, I realized the vibe was... different. Actually, kind of wild. Loud people everywhere, uniforms customized in ways I didn’t even know were allowed, earrings, tattoos—some of them looked like they didn’t care what anyone thought. Total bad boy/bad girl energy. Looks like it’s going to be a long year.

After enrolling by myself—mom couldn’t come in with me—I was taken by the coordinator to Room 15, which would now be my class. As soon as I walked in, she left, and this woman with long black hair and big brown eyes came up to me, wrapped her arm around my shoulder, and gave the class a little intro.
“Good morning, everyone! We’ve got someone new today. This is Chenle, and he came all the way from China to Busan, and now he’s here with us. Let’s make sure he feels welcomed, okay?” she said in this really sweet voice.

Then she turned to me and asked me to introduce myself.
“Uh… like she said, I’m Chenle. I’m Chinese, I’m 17, and I’ve been living here for about 10 years.”
I heard a few whispers and giggles after I finished, but then the teacher smiled again and said, “Great, Chenle. Welcome. You can sit over there, next to Jaemin.”
As I made my way to the seat, I could feel eyes on me. And in the back of the room, someone was staring—hard. A pair of sharp eyes locked onto mine. I didn’t look back. No need for trouble on the first day.

I sat down, trying to be as invisible as possible. Jaemin, the guy next to me, didn’t say anything, but he looked kind of curious. The teacher kept going, talking about stuff I’d already heard in every school. I rested my head on the desk and closed my eyes, hoping time would go faster. And weirdly, it did. The bell rang, loud and annoying, and everyone rushed out—including Jaemin. I got up slowly, thinking maybe I could grab something to eat or just explore the place a bit.

As I headed for the door, a dirty pair of Vans stepped right in front of me. I looked up—and there he was. Jisung. The same guy who was staring at me earlier in class. His dark brown eyes were drilling into mine, sharp like he could see through me.
“So you’re the new kid,” he said. His voice was low and rough. It wasn’t even a question.
I kept looking at him, trying not to seem nervous. “Yeah, I am,” I said.

He stared at me for a second, then added, “I’m Jisung.”

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, trying to force a smile—just like my mom said I should in moments like this.
But he didn’t smile back. Instead, he just stared and said, “Don’t think you’re gonna have it easy here.”
That caught me off guard—but of course, I didn’t show it. I’m kind of good at that. “Why? Am I supposed to be scared of you?” I asked.

Jisung raised an eyebrow and stepped closer, never taking his eyes off me. “You’re not like the others,” he said, calm but intense. “You’re... different.”
A weird chill ran down my spine. How did he know? No one was supposed to know about my condition.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, same calm tone as always.

He gave me this half-smile—more like a smirk. “Don’t lie to me,” he said. “I know exactly what you are. I’ve seen people like you before. I know how they act.”
Then he turned around and walked out, leaving me there, standing by the door, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Chapter Text

“You’re different .” Those words echoed in my head for the passed days, after that brief and real weird interaction with Jisung, we never spoke again and i was very, to be honest, relieved with that. The only “interaction” that we had, if i can say that was one, was just this intense and weirdest exchange of looks all the time.

On other hand, Jaemin and i get really close, we go from desk partners to “almost friends”, we sat together on lunch, always wandered around the school, we did our homework together too, And even walked home side by side after school too.

Jaemin wasn’t invasive bout my condition, he was the most sweet person i ever know, my exactly kinda of people: kind, sweet, smart and funny - but super outgoing and talkative, he talks a lot.

It was tuesday, that one day from the week that me and jaemin didn’t have class together.
Our elective periods were opposite, so right after the break, we’d say goodbye and walk to our classes. It was fire to me.

Because he was there.

Park jisung.

He and his little group were in the same class as me - and it was the worst. Jisung’s group wouldn’t leave me alone whenever I walked into the classroom. He never did anything himself, but he also never stepped in, and I sincerely hated him for that.

When i walk through the class, i really thought that maybe they’d be late like always, but no, not this time, they’re were sitting back there.

He was there

And the worse part? he was sitting in my seat, while his friends laughed and tossed crumpled paper into the trash like it was some kind of game.
Even so, i walked toward my desk, i grabbed my backpack, and walked with firm steps, and stopped right in front of him.

“Hey jisung, can you move so I can sit?” I asked.
He didn’t even look at me, just kept laughing with his little friends, ugh.

I thought that maybe he hadn’t heard me, since I really do speak pretty quietly - so I tried again, a little bit louder:
“Jisung, can you please move from my seat so I can sit down?” i asked more louder this time. And he finally looked at me, with that deadly and sarcastic stare.

“Yeah, i can move, but the thing is… do i want to?” he said to me with a funny tone of voice and laughed along with his friends.

I gave up trying to be polite.
So I did something that probably no one else would’ve done.
I pushed him.
I don’t even know why.
I just did.
I pushed him and sat in my chair.

His friend and the whole class stopped whatever they were doing and turned to look at us. Jisung didn’t look happy at all, and the whole class seems to be curious about what he was prepared to do.

If I actually felt fear, I think that would’ve been the moment. Because that’s when Jisung grabbed me by the collar of my uniform and spit out words soaked in rage right in my face, i didn’t felt fear, or nothing like that, the only thing passing on my mind was how he’s look so pretty while he’s was prepared to punch me, nothing like fear or other feelings like that.

“You’re not scared of dying, are you? You little piece of shit. You’re lucky we’re in a classroom right now, ‘cause otherwise you’d be fucked in my hands.”
he said, shoving me back into the chair.

“No.”
“No what, you creepy little fuck?”

he snapped, turning back to face me, looking even angrier at my answer.

“No, I’m not afraid of dying. And I’m not afraid of you, either.”

He looked surprised for a second, but he was still furious.
Before he could say anything else, the door swung open and the teacher walked in.
Maybe someone had told him something, because everyone quickly turned their attention toward him.

The teacher looked suspicious and asked,
“Is there a problem back there, boys?”

Jisung cleared his throat and shook his head, denying.

Even trough the doubt, the teacher nodded and moved on.
“Good. Now sit in your proper seats and open your books.”
he said, turning to a classmate who looked like she had a question.

“Don’t think that just because I didn’t do anything now, I won’t do it later.”
Jisung whispered in my ear before walking off to his seat, footsteps heavy.

And right then, I felt something.
Something Mom might’ve called regret. She would be pride, if she know i felt something.

A thousand voices screamed in my head, telling me I shouldn’t have done that.

If my goal was to stay out of trouble...
Well…
I guess I didn’t do a great job.