Stay ~ A Stray Kids Fanfic

Hyunjin

Hyunjin's POV
Same Day

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"But why?" Seungmin whines. I kept my eyes on the blue strokes of paint. I don't steer as he huffed multiple sighs. "No one else will do it."

"Which is exactly why I won't either." I kept my tone not too sharp because he was my friend. It wasn't like my dad was yelling at me...this was Seungmin.

Suddenly, his hand grips the brush in my fingers, keeping it from touching the canvas. I finally glanced up at him, impatiently waiting for whatever persuasive argument he was going to use on me now.

He breathes deeply, as if not expecting me to listen. "It's just 3 questions: how was the first week of school? What do you like about this year that's different from last year? And then what do you want to see more of this semester...that's it!"

I blink aimlessly and lower my brush. 'God damn, newspaper,' I think to myself, only to regret it after hearing my dad's tone in it. Forcing the smallest of smiles, I shoot one to him and nod.

"Fine. Make it quick though," I say. He erupts in thanks and squeals before sitting beside me on a nearby stool. With his notebook and pen in hand, he writes down my name before asking away.

"How was your first week of school, Hwang Hyunjin?" He was making his voice preppy and cute on purpose. I only release a sigh before shrugging.

"It was okay. I enjoy coming to the art room," I say, feeling that he would want more descriptive answers to satisfy the student council who assigned him the task. And it made him tap his feet happily.

"Excellent!" He breathes as he jots it all down. I take that moment to admire his proper wear of a collared, blue sweater, jeans, and white sneakers. It beat my usual everyday wear. Besides, his family was well supported.

My smile grew bigger at the thought of Seungmin smiling. I only prayed he never went through what I had to endure every day.

"And what do you like about this year that's different from last year?" He goes on, flashing his soft eyes up at me.

     I cross one leg over the other to buy me time to think. "Well," I begin, "I was a Junior last year. Now I'm a Senior."

     He beams at the response and quickly translates it to paper. "Then what do you want to see more of this year as a senior?"

     'More time with you, my friend.'

     I quirk a smile at my minds first response. Once we graduated, I'd go to art school and he'll stay here, writing papers for all of Seoul at a publishing company he's already signed for. Little did he know how much I enjoy seeing him everyday.

     And so I sighed lightly. "I want to see more people come together because high school doesn't last as long as they may think." I caught a glimpse of his eyes widening in curiosity.

     "Ohhh, wonderful response, Hwang Hyunjin," he sings onto the paper. I pick up my brush, ready to return to painting when he shoots up from his stool. "This is great! Y'know we've been going through budget cuts lately."

     "So it seems," I scoff, recalling the cuts the art program was going through too. "They cut our canvas supply by half...and we might lose the kiln by next semester."

     He lets out what sounded like either a held in scream or an agitated groan. Either way, I felt his anger. "This is stupid! All of the arts clubs and programs are being cut, and for what? A better courtyard, rebuilding the science lab that the seniors last year did, and-"

     "And the freshman now get new laptops," I add, only to add to his frustration. "I understand your anger. This is the 6th canvas I've had to buy and it's only the 3rd week..."

     He sits back down, his eyes exchanging between my work in progress and his journal. I felt that too: the things that brought us joy were slipping away too rapidly. "Newspaper is going through it to. Yearbook, band, choir, swing choir, dance, jazz band, marching band...all of the arts."

     The bell rang at his last word. We didn't move until the ruckus outside began. "You taking the bus today?" I ask, taking my palette and wrapping it in a small layer of plastic wrap to resume tomorrow.

     He stretches his limbs before shaking his head. My heart slowly sank at that. "I gotta work today. I'll walk you to the bus though," he takes my hand and pulls me towards the door.

     Empty aisles and chairs sat lifeless as we passed. Dust began to coat the seats of students from last year. No one joined art this year except me and a few girls a grade below. "Seungmin, I can walk myself, y'know."

     He burns red and drops my hand before slowly leading the way towards the lockers. My hand goes up to my ponytail and pulls the band out. I hear him chuckle at my mid-neck locks forming their usual umbrella around me.

     "You still growing it out?" He asks, shaking his palm into the wig. I pout and straighten it back to its original state.

     "Well, I don't exactly have the money yet to get it cut properly," I frown, eyeing the hair from the corner of my eye. "And I'm scared to cut it myself."

     He nods. "That's fair. Oh, hey, Chan," he waves to the blonde Aussie just leaving his locker.

     Chan was probably the only person to be a genuine person on student council. In fact, he was the reason we even have an art program this year. He wouldn't let it off that easily, and deep down, I was thankful for that, for him.

     "Hey, guys! You finally gonna join photography, Hyunjin?" He points my way, his grin wide and bright.

I show him the smallest of shrugs in which he then returns with another warm smile. "I hope you change your mind. We need 8 people."

"Make Seungmin do it," I point to my friend who just slaps my hand down. I crack a laugh at his reddening cheeks before wishing Chan goodbye. "I like him. Too bad I have no classes with him."

Seungmin nods, peering back at him for a quick second. "He's always so cheery and kind," he pauses, "they say the most cheery ones are the saddest at home."

I stop short to look at him. He does the same, looking back at me with taunt eyes. "You're talking about yourself?" A bold assumption, but one that was too out of the ordinary to avoid.

He shakes his head, laughing off my question easily. "No. It was just something I remembered," he says. Clasping my hand in his, he pulls towards the double doors.

From there to the bus stop, I couldn't help but look up at him and find a piece of him missing. He didn't usually look this empty. So when I held his hand tighter, I was too overcome with worry to be embarrassed at his chuckle.

Now if only I had the guts to hug him everytime he dropped me off at the bus stop.