Chapter Text
In retrospect, Han should not have been so hopeful for the first day. Hopeful might be too strong a word, it was more like a relief. The school offered breakfast and lunch, that meant he was going to get two full meals a day five days a week. Never mind that he was nervous, twitching where he stood in line. It didn't matter that he ran a couple of miles to get here at 7am, or that he didn't have the money to refill his meds right now, or that his grandpa would not even look at him after his mom dumped him on his doorstep Saturday morning, nothing but a couple of suitcases and a sheepish smile on his face. There was apple juice, for fucks sake. So yes, he was feeling a tiny bit hopeful despite the circumstances. Rookie mistake.
Han was only a couple of kids behind the register, he was trying to look casual, not like he wanted to vibrate out of his skin. He practiced what he thought might be a thoughtful, neutral look on his face every morning in the bathroom mirror. He practiced that same look now, trying to hide how interested he was in the food options just ahead of him. Apple juice, cinnamon rolls, breakfast sandwiches, apple juice, fruit, apple juice! He didn’t notice the boy behind him until he had punched his school number in and was handed a small pink ticket from the lady manning the booth. The other boy was not far behind.
“You’re new,” the tall boy said. “What’s your name?”
“Han,” he said, only glancing at the other boy, more concerned with piling his tray with food. The cinnamon rolls and PB&J’s were packaged, and no one said he could only take one, so he took enough that he could hide them away in his backpack for dinner. Three meals was insane. He loved this school.
“It’s always the kids with the free lunch plans who take the most food, I swear.” The boy said.
Han was stunned for a moment, not prepared to be made fun of so early in the morning. It was still dark out for God’s sake. He retracted his hand from where he’d raised it to grab another snack.
“I’m not on free lunch,” Han lied, warm and cold with nausea.
The other boy laughed, his tray lighter as he took fruit and a carton of milk. “Yes. You are. Everyone knows the pink tickets are the poor kids.”
Han’s cheeks went warm, and he tightened his hold on the edges of his red plastic tray, ignoring him in favor of scanning the room. A table of boys at the outer edge of the cafeteria, at a circular table all on their own, caught his eye. They were leaning on each other or haphazardly draped around, laughing and chatting, too loud in the quiet of breakfast time. One was fully asleep on another’s shoulder. The boy who appeared to be the oldest in the group looked like he was scolding another with white long hair, pushing food onto his tray, an extra pudding cup.
Han’s stomach hurt. He didn’t want to be here.
The kid behind him in the lunch line saddled up next to him. “I’m Yun-Seo,” he said. “You should come sit with me, my friends and I always welcome the new kids.” Yun-Seo’s voice was smooth enough to mistake as friendly, but Han knew better. Every school had a Yun-Seo. Unfortunately, every Yun-Seo had a Han.
Yun-Seo caught where Han was looking before he could turn his attention away, and a small smile curled up on his face, “Han, I would be careful with who you choose to associate with. Makes a big difference in a place this small.”
Han diverted his gaze, that isn't even why he was looking at them. They were just interesting, piled together and separate from everyone else. What Han wanted was to sit with no one. What he wanted was to go find a quiet dark spot to eat his sandwiches in, to eat until he was full. What he wanted was to pull his hood up over his head and be left the fuck alone. Shame at his anxiety and fear was almost enough to overpower the anxiety, to unsettle the nausea in his stomach with something much heavier. It was 7am, it was his first day. This was probably his record for how quickly it took for someone to hone in on him, and he was too tired, too everything, to even find his footing and duck back under the radar. His plan to glide by was going to shit, as per usual. Han turned and nodded to Yun-Seo, following him to his table. Eyes from all over the room followed him, the plastic tray creaked in his hands. He didn’t sit it or himself down gently when Yun-Seo gestured to a table with two other boys.
Yun-Seo sat down far more cheerily, gesturing to the other two. “Hannie, this is Danny and Kevin.” Yun-Seo flicked Han’s ear and Han nearly hissed at him.
Yun-Seo narrowed his eyes, “don’t be rude, Hannie. Say hi. I’m doing you a favor.”
Han swallowed, reaching out to grab Danny's wrist when the other teenage reached for his tray.
Danny shook him off, tone condescending when he told Han to “Calm down, this is the tribute you have to pay for sitting with us. My dad’s taxes pay for your free food anyways, so it’s more like mine than yours.”
Han turned his hands into fists under the table and resisted the urge to pack all his food before they tried to take it all from him. He was quickly losing control of himself and the situation. There was a steady whistling noise building up in his ears, faint and buzzing like a fly circling over his head, like the static of an old analog tv.
Yun-Seo crunched a grape from his tray “new kid here was glancing longingly at the StrayKids table.”
Kevin snorted, “Chan has a habit of taking in misfits. Are you like that Han?”
Han pursed his lips, confused. “Huh?” He had missed what Kevin said. Han reached for his apple juice, twisting the cap to relieve his dry and fuzzy mouth.
Yun-Seo laughed, “you want me to go over and introduce you? Hmm? Are you a little faggot like them, Hannie? Word spreads fast around here.”
Han’s shame immediately smoldered into a quick and volatile anger, unattached from his self preservation instincts. He took the apple juice and flung it at Yun-Seo, and his unopened carton of milk, which hit Yun-Seo so hard it blew open against his head. He didn't stop there, throwing anything he could get his hands on, only stopping when Kevin and Danny scrambled to pull their trays out of reach.
“Fuck you!” Han seethed, chest heaving with the start of a panic attack.
He could feel it coming like a train. The cafeteria went quiet, and then he heard it, the laughter. Some of the boys at the Straykids table were unable to contain themselves, clapping and cheering. Yun-Seo was gearing up to retaliate, chest puffing out and face going red with rage. Han grabbed his backpack from the floor and made a dash for the cafeteria doors. At the end of the main hallway were the stairs to the basement, and Han took them two at a time, only stopping when he found a janitor's closet to squeeze into. He set a broom underneath the doorknob and sat on the floor with his back against some shelves. His hands were shaking, even when he pressed them against his chest, where his heart beat frantically, he could feel the tremors in his muscles. In the dark, in the quiet, his breath came out in short wheezes, out and out and then back in with a cough. He rubbed the pads of his fingers against the rough fabric of his jeans until it felt like there was rug burn. The sensation brought him back down to earth, enough that his breathing was labored but not scary. Han thought emotions were mostly too big for his body at times like this, when his ears started ringing like steam was coming out of a kettle, like his body was trying to reject the feeling before it swallowed him up. He was good at blowing up, of letting his mouth get him into trouble. He was good at being small and quiet too, until he wasn't.
He thought of the Straykids table, of the laughter. He thought of his home that wasn’t really a home, and his grandfather who promised this was his last chance. Mostly, he thought of his apple juice, which he didn’t even get to drink, and the cinnamon rolls, still sitting warm where he left them on his tray.
The school day got out at 2:53. Han even waited a whole extra fifteen minutes to make sure he could come out of the closet and make his way home in peace.
Han was too busy fiddling with the secondhand casio watch on his wrist to notice that he wasn’t alone as he walked down the concrete steps to the football field and track. He wanted to time how long it took him to get home, even though he knew he would cut that time in half when his bike was fixed, which is why he was busy pressing a strange number of buttons that beeped back at him, and not busy paying any attention to his surroundings. It wasn’t until he was turning to duck under the metal bleachers that he realized he’d been watched his entire journey down the stairs.
“Han Jisung, you are a difficult boy to find,” said a voice, the words carefully clipped and short.
Han turned, hands now fisted in the straps of his backpack. Yun-Seo, Kevin, and Danny stood only a couple of yards from him under the bleachers. Han froze, deer caught in the headlights. He hadn’t even smelled the cigarette smoke on his way down. Yun-Seo took a long drag then crushed the thing under his boot. The other two flanked him on either side. For a moment they just stared at one another. Yun-Seo scoffed, then flicked a hand at Danny, Han turned to bolt back up the stairs. He made it just on top of the first step before Johnny grabbed the handle of his backpack and yanked him back down to the hard dry dirt.
“Fuck,” Han wheezed, air painfully knocked out of his chest and not returning as fast as he would like. He laid sprawled on the ground, tasting his lungs for a minute.
Yun-Seo stepped over into his line of vision, blotting out the sun as he positioned himself over Han’s crumpled form.
"I should have gotten my hands on you immediately.” Yun-Seo said.
“Had no idea you were looking for me” Han propped himself up on his elbows and grimaced.
This was, in fact, a huge fucking lie.
Han had spent the entire day intentionally avoiding Yun-Seo after the incident this morning, most likely making everything worse
“Get him up,” Yun-Seo ordered.
Danny grabbed the back of Han’s shirt and lifted him up like one would handle a stray kitten. Han twisted in the hold but only managed to get his shirt tightened around his neck. He huffed and went limp, the toes of his worn sneakers just barely brushing the ground. If Danny wanted to hold him then he could hold all of his dead weight.
“Listen to me, you faggot” Yun-Seo seethed, coming close to where Danny had Han nearly suspended. The slur made Han’s stomach queasy, hot and cold sweat beading at the back of his neck. He was so hungry, and tired, and he didn't understand why Yun-Seo had to keep calling him that. Kevin crowded in close behind Yun-Seo, unsure of what to do. “Apologize to me.”
Han didn't know he could be so afraid and so angry at the same time. It was amazing the multitudes he contained. "No," he said stubbornly. And then, because he couldn't help but make everything worse for himself, he said "you deserved it."
Yun-Seo dug his fingers into either side of Han’s mouth and pressed hard, making his mouth squish up in a pout. “I’ll teach you, and I'll keep teaching you. You want to be at the bottom of the pecking order, so be it” he seethed, controlled demeanor immediately washed away in the face of all that was Han.
Danny settled Han down on the ground, hands coming down to grasp his skinny biceps. Yun-Seo cocked his arm back and brought his hand down against Han’s cheek so hard he tasted blood, then again, and again, until the third hit was a full fist in the middle of his face. His mouth caught most of it, bottom lip slicing open on his teeth.
Han cringed back into Danny, who shook him like a rag doll until his head leaned forward, blood dripping from more than one place onto his neck and tshirt.
Yun-Seo studied him for a long moment. Han spit on the ground, then thought for a second, worked up a glob of blood in his mouth, and spit it at Yun-Seo's feet. They were gonna beat him up whether he submitted or not.
“Okay, you’re just not getting it,” then he turned his eyes to Danny. “Strip his clothes. We’ll tie him to the goal post on the field.”
Han reacted with animal brain panic, the idea of being left naked on the field kickstarting him into survival mode. Han swung his leg forward, catching Yun-Seo in the stomach, then swung it back into Danny's knee with so much force he heard more than felt that resulting pop. Yun-Seo bent slightly to cover his stomach, and Danny crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut, taking Han down to the ground with him, the side of his face scraping the concrete. Before anyone could catch their breath, Han popped back off the ground and took off up the stairs.
Here’s the thing, what Han lacked in self preservation, he made up for in speed. His lungs burned, his body ached, face warm and sticky with blood. What kept him sprinting across the parking lot and back inside to hide in the school was the knowledge that if Yun-Seo and his goons caught him, they would for fucking sure kill him.
They had to catch him first.
The worn soles of Han’s sneakers slapped hard against the hot pavement as he tore across the parking lot. He didn’t want to lead any of them back towards his house, and he’d spent the entire goddamn day in a supply closet and had no clue what the layout of the school was, he was running on fumes - no, the fumes of fumes, and probably had a concussion. He didn’t even have a new plan forming in his empty head, just that buzzing again, sheer panic taking over and making his muscles move. Later, when he stopped moving, he would be in pain, and he would be mad at himself. He turned the corner of one of the brick buildings and smacked into something hard . Just like that, he was sprawled out on the asphalt again.
“God,” he whined, drawing out the word in a long, frustrated groan. Ever closer to a concussion.
The something he smacked into was really a someone, a someone who looked stricken at the sight of Han laid out like a hit and run victim. He had a sharp jaw, white blond hair chopped just above his shoulders. Han immediately recognized him as the boy who was being scolded at the Straykids table in the cafeteria this morning. The sun lit up behind his head like a halo, and Han didn’t know if he was stunned from hitting the concrete, or from this boy’s beauty.
“Christ, you came out of nowhere,” the boy was impossibly tall, dainty looking as he scrunched down to hover around Han, not quite sure if he should touch. Han didn’t know if he wanted to be helped up, he might as well just stay on the ground at this rate.
A second boy pushed the taller one out of the way, eyes narrowed and feline like. “You look like someone killed you,” he said seriously, then turned to the other boy “Hyunjin, how the hell did you manage to screw his face up this bad just with your chest.”
“What!” Hyunjin startled, eyes moving all over Han’s prone form. “No! I didn’t do that.” He rubbed his chest, right where Han slammed into him. He looked genuinely distressed at the prospect of causing that much harm.
“Why were you running?” The boy asked.
“It gets me places faster.” Han said.
The boy laughed, “sure, and how is that working out for you?”
Han grimaced, propping himself up on his elbows. Hyunjin gasped, snapping his fingers in excitement. “Hey!” he pointed at Han, whose eyes went wide, “you’re the kid from the cafeteria. Minho! He’s the one who got milk all over Yun-Seo.” Hyunjin smacked his knee, absolutely delighted.
Minho’s expression was far more calculating. Han hunched his shoulders up around his ears, not quite liking the attention from either boy.
“Is that why you look like you got hit by a truck? Did Yun-Seo do this?” Minho asked, not a hint of amusement in his tone.
Han wanted to say that he did this, actually, with his smart mouth and odd moods and inability to be normal. Mostly, he was itching to ask, in a voice that might reveal too much, why Minho even cared. What came out was “This is just the way that I look.”
It got a full surprised huff of laughter from Hyunjin, and even Minho’s face cracked into the hint of a smile, one he tried to immediately smooth down into something more serious.
“Listen, this has been great” Han started, fully ready to say goodbye and take his leave across the baseball field he could see in the distance behind Minho, but he never got the chance.
Yun-Seo and company rounded the corner. Hyunjin’s reaction to seeing Yun-Seo was visceral. He shrunk smaller against the brick wall, arms tightening around his middle to hug himself. All the glee at Yun-Seo’s expense, all the joking, was gone. Han felt uncomfortable at witnessing such a shift in demeanor. Minho, on the other hand, stepped over Han, positioning himself between the two younger boys and the bullies. His hands were in his pockets, but the rigid set to his spine gave away his intention to pounce if need be.
Yun-Seo faltered at the sight of Minho, offering him a slight smile to recover “Minho, you’ve found our dear friend Han here.”
Minho’s head cocked just slightly, “friend?” he asked with mock confusion. “He looks like someone rubbed his face in gravel. That’s a funny way to treat a friend, Yun-Seo.”
Yun-Seo fully grinned, shaking off his initial wariness at Minho’s presence “you would know all about funny ways to treat your friends, wouldn’t you?” Hyunjin flinched at that, the movement catching Yun-Seo’s attention, like a predator following prey. “Hello Hyunjinnie,” he nearly sang.
Minho, eyes a little feral, squared his shoulders. He stepped to the left in an attempt to fully block Hyunjin from sight. “You should be more concerned with how I treat my enemies, Yun-Seo. Is the perfect imprint of my teeth still on your hand?”
Yun-Seo twitched, pulling his hand into his pocket. “I know that Chan has you on a tight leash, I wouldn’t -”
Minho grinned “Chan isn’t here right now.”
Minho wasn’t big, he didn’t have broad shoulders and his frame was slim and lithe, but whatever Yun-Seo saw in his face, or whatever rang true in his words, it made him go pale and step back until he wasn’t within reach.
“Let’s go,” he said, and Danny and Kevin fell in to follow behind him. They left with their tails tucked.
Minho immediately turned to Hyunjin, still frowning “are you okay?” He asked, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.
Han thought of the way Yun-Seo had said Hyunjin’s name. That was more than teasing, he’d hurt him, maybe succeeded in doing something as humiliating and hurtful as what he had wanted to do to Han. There was no reason for Minho’s reaction to be so aggressive otherwise - feral and happy to do bodily harm, and not for the first time it would seem. It must be nice, Han thought, to know someone was going to stand up for you, to have someone care. The warmth of shame tearing through his chest and stomach was familiar - it didn’t do any good to want these things. Han was always made to leave, always dropped off on some other doorstep, anyways. Being alone was painful sometimes, but at least it was familiar. It was easier to be the only witness to his own shame and anxiety. He should just be thankful they saved his ass, even if it wasn’t intentional.
“Thanks for the help,” Han’s voice was rough as he stood, and he didn’t even know why he was upset.
“Where do you live? We can give you a ride home.” Hyunjin’s voice was smaller than the last time Han heard him speak.
“I don’t live close,” Han lied, not keen on having the first two people who were any ounce of kind to him see the trailer he called home.
Hyunjin frowned, “that’s not really an answer.”
Han shrugged, “it’s not really a place.” He waited for either of them to give up, maybe give a nice wave and a ‘see ya around.’
Hyunjin didn’t get exasperated though, if anything, he just looked at a loss.
Minho leveled him with a steady look “you really want to chance running into Yun-Seo a third time today?”
Han blew a raspberry, Minho had a point. He was already down 2 of his 9 lives and it was only his first day here. Even without the threat of highschool bullies hanging over his head, Han’s lack of medication and food meant his body was on the fritz and there was a good chance he’d end up in some ditch on the way home from his own doing. Minho watched him do the quick mental math and smirked before Han had even opened his mouth to give in.
“A ride would be great, thank you” he relented.
Minho rattled an ungodly cluttered keychain from his pocket “you get the middle seat,” he smiled. Hyunjin hid a similar expression behind a curtain of blond hair.