NCT Oneshots {ot23} | open

Thinking of You: DoTae {Request}

▹request acc: wariowane
▹prompt: dotae school fluff, bttm tae
▹word count: 2901
▹warnings: n/a

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹❀◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ

Each day, Doyoung sits down for maths class and his eyes roam across the room to land on a certain boy.

A pristine white hoodie to complement the bubblegum pink of his hair and doodles on his converse. A gaze that sparkles with all the stars in the galaxy when he smiles at his desk mate. Who is not Doyoung, the younger notes in disdain. But he's still close enough to hear Taeyong humming while he copies down notes in glittery gel pens.

Other students pay him no mind. They're all used to his soft, innocent mannerisms by now, and yet it still marvels Doyoung. Something about the elder boy draws him in. Unable to decipher quite what it is in particular, Doyoung realises that it's everything about Taeyong.

The teacher stands from her desk and the students settle down for her to explain the next task. Only the information doesn't stick around for more than a few seconds because all he can focus on is Taeyong. They have yet to speak to each other besides a small greeting before class starts, but Doyoung already has a whole list of things to talk about lined up on the tip of his tongue, ready for when the time comes to get to know each other.

▹❀◃

When the time comes, however, Doyoung is at a loss for words. They all fizzle away to nothing once his eyes land on the sight of Taeyong hunched over a precarious stack of textbooks in the corner of the library. None of the books are open. His face is turned away, hidden by his arms and soft grey hood.

In search of somewhere to sit and study for the history test that afternoon, Doyoung approaches the table.

His gut twists in worry when he notices Taeyong's shoulders heave. The boy's fists clench as he lets out a quiet sob, all attempts at muffling it failing when he whips his head up to squint at Doyoung.

"Taeyong?" Doyoung pulls out the opposite chair when the elder doesn't protest, simply rubbing his eyes with sweater paws instead. "Are you alright?"

He's clearly not, so Doyoung's mind scolds him for asking such a pointless question. Taeyong shrugs, and Doyoung's frown deepens.

"What's the matter?" He tries his hardest to dig up a mental manual of how to comfort someone who's suffering a breakdown, no doubt from stress, but his mind draws blank conclusions that aren't too different from the emptiness in Taeyong's sore eyes.

"Just tired."

"Then why don't you pack your books away and take a break? I'm sure you'd be able to go home." Doyoung softens his voice as a starting point. He gestures to the textbooks Taeyong's using to rest his elbow on.

Taeyong shrugs again, but soon moves to drop them one by one into his rucksack. Doyoung cringes from how much it must weigh. Then, Taeyong rests his elbow on the table and seems to shrink back to a tiny shell, frail and void of all energy when he lets out a long sigh that speaks a million words.

Taeyong is tired. Mentally tired, in fact. And Doyoung decides he wants to get to the bottom of it and see his charming smile again.

"You don't have to tell me what's going on if you don't want to, I just-"

"My boyfriend dumped me an hour ago."