Chapter Text
Despite the early morning, the sun was already blazing outside. It was already unbearably hot, the kind of irritating spring heat that seemed determined to stick to everything; on clothes, furniture, permeating the very air. It was the kind of heat Sieun hated the most, the kind that fogged up his mind and made it difficult to concentrate on anything but the feeling of his clothes stuck to his body. However, it wasn’t the heat that was on his mind as he navigated his way across the classroom with ease, settling himself down at his desk.
To the outside world, Yeon Sieun didn’t look any different. He presented himself in the way he usually did; uniform pristine and crisp against his body, hair meticulously combed so that it fell gently against his forehead. Inky black eyes, so gentle and affectionate without him trying, sported a blank look as usual. Nothing about him seemed different.
But those who really knew him would argue otherwise. Juntae could see it, in the way that Sieun fidgeted with his pen, eyes roaming over study notes on his desk but completely out of focus. Baku could see it, in the way, every once in a while, Sieun’s eyes flittered to the door, an action that Sieun himself probably didn’t realise he was doing. And Gotak could see it too, in the way Sieun’s feet tapped against the cold concrete floor; once, twice, thrice.
Sieun was excited, an emotion not usually associated with him, but his friends could feel it nonetheless. And they knew the reason why, had seen the way Sieun’s eyes lit up just for a moment when their homeroom teacher had announced earlier in the morning that someone new would be joining their classroom. Had seen how Sieun’s lips flickered upwards, a fleeting moment, but enough to convey his feelings.
So when the door opens, just before their first period officially started, none of them are surprised when Sieun’s head immediately snapped to the sound, eyes locking instantly onto the person who walked in.
Suho.
Juntae, Gotak and Baku had seen him once, just once, on that day Sieun had gotten the call. When he’d surprised them by rushing, running to meet him. They’d seen the way Sieun’s steps had faltered once he arrived at the garden of the hospital, fingers shaking as he simply took in Suho, as if afraid that one wrong move, one wrong step and Suho would shatter into an illusion.
They’d watch the way Sieun had taken hesitant steps towards Suho when he finally spoke, as if confirming that this wasn’t a dream. None of them could stay after that, not even Baku. Not when Sieun had crouched down in front of Suho, fingers grazing against his arm, just a light touch. But so intimate, so gentle, that it felt like they were intruding.
After that, Sieun would visit alone. Did not attempt to make excuses for Suho when he didn’t request to meet them. He’d only tell them plainly that Suho was still recovering, that he didn’t want to meet anyone else right now. He just wanted his grandmother and Sieun. And he’d say it with finality, wouldn’t accept any arguments. Because to him, whatever Suho wanted, needed, took top priority. The trio quickly learned just how important Suho was to Sieun then.
So they’re not surprised when Sieun’s eyes trail after every single step Suho takes now, expression unchanged, but fondness pooled in the depths of his eyes, for those who knew Sieun enough to figure out.
Suho had changed a bit since the last time they viewed him from afar, hair longer, eyes less tired. His right hand gripped a cane, and he limped when he walked to the podium to the awaiting teacher. But a quiet confidence had replaced the unease with which he had looked at them at the hospital garden.
“I’m Ahn Suho. Please take good care of me.” Suho’s voice came out slightly gravely, as if he was holding back a cough, but he spoke with confidence and ease, warm brown eyes locked on to a specific spot inside the classroom. The trio didn’t need to turn their heads to know, he was no doubt looking at Sieun.
“…an empty seat.” Juntae briefly caught the tail end of the teacher’s voice. Suho nodded slightly, before moving across the room with ease, his feet seemed determined on a destination already.
And they could feel it, the moment the rest of their peers figured out where Suho was headed.
Sieun hated noise, hated his personal space invaded. So that not even Juntae or Gotak, even Baku, didn’t try to invade that space. It was a tacit agreement between everyone in the classroom, the empty seat next to Yeon Sieun should be left empty. It was even an agreement that their teachers attested to; they’d seen the violence the quiet, pretty boy could inflict if pushed.
And the teacher had read Suho’s file, seen that he had fought an almost two years’ battle in coma, had managed to miraculously wake up. Clawed his way back into the world of the living and managed to get back on his feet. It would be a tragedy if such a strong boy was to be defeated here, in his classroom, because he didn’t know the rules as of yet.
The teacher’s mouth had just opened, about to ask Suho to choose any other seat, when Sieun stood, eyes locked on Suho, as if to meet him halfway. There was no going back now, he really couldn’t fight, but as the only adult in the classroom, the teacher knew he had to protect Suho. Couldn’t let him fall to the hands of Yeon Sieun simply because of a seat.
He’d just taken his first step to try and diffuse the situation, when Suho speaks.
“Your seat, the window one. Can I have it?”
There’s a collective gasp in the classroom, sweat instantly beaded on the teacher’s forehead and he almost wanted to grab Suho and shake him. Was it not enough to sit next to him? He went further by asking for Sieun’s seat? It was as if Suho didn’t value the life he has painstakingly fought to have.
It’s Sieun’s next action that has everyone in the classroom, including Sieun’s friends doubting their eyes.
They watched as Sieun moved forward, fingers gently tugging on Suho’s arm, as if afraid to break him and slowly guiding him into the seat, Sieun’s seat. They watched as Sieun cleared the table of his things, placing them onto the table next to his seat, the very one that no one else had ever touched. All the while, Suho watched him, a faint smile on his lips, eyes unbelievably fond.
Because despite the confidence he exuded, Suho was scared. Insecure. Worried that in those two years, Sieun had moved on. Became a version of himself that Suho no longer recognised. And even though after he woke up, Sieun never left, came to him almost every day, tended to his every need. That insecurity was still there, gnawing at his mind like a wound that would never heal.
So he wanted to do something, wanted to cement himself, wanted the rest of the students in Eunjang High to see, to know that Suho was special to Sieun. That he could obnoxiously ask for Sieun’s seat and he’d give it to him. Just because it’s him. That no one, not even Sieun’s new friends could reach the pedestal that Suho was placed on in Sieun’s heart.
He watched as Sieun meticulously cleared the table without a word. Then, Sieun reached into his bag, groping around a bit before bringing something out, placing it on Suho’s table.
“Drink it later after you take your meds.” It’s the first words Sieun has spoken since Suho entered the classroom, low so that only Suho could hear, affection lacing every word. And, as if he couldn’t help himself, Sieun reached out his hand, fingers grazed against Suho’s arm, a light touch before he pulled away, taking his new seat without a word of complaint.
Suho glanced at him a moment, before his eyes fell on what Sieun had placed. A milk carton. Strawberry. Suho’s favourite.
A smile tugs at his lips and Suho reaches for the carton, fingers holding it reverently, as if Sieun had placed the sun, the moon and the stars on his table. And not an ordinary strawberry milk carton.
Eventually, the teacher pulls himself back together, returns to the front to begin the lesson.
Sieun didn’t make any big movements after that, focused on his studies as ever. But he didn’t complain when Suho fidgeted in his seat, didn’t reprimand him when Suho poked his arm to ask for a pen because of course he forgot. Only rolled his eyes ever so slightly before handing him one.
And Suho could see it in the way the students around whispered, eyes falling on him every so often. The way Sieun’s friends looked between them, curiosity held in their gaze, and something else, as if they were starting to figure out the weight of Suho in Sieun’s life.
Good, Suho thought, smile wide on his lips as he attempted to focus on the lesson.
Let them all realise that for Yeon Sieun, Ahn Suho would always come first.