My Significant Bother - WooSan

Chapter 6

Wooyoung's mom calls him on Monday, between his second and third class of the day, when he's walking to the coffee shop to get something to wake him up. He tugs his phone out of his pocket, reads her name on the screen, and hits 'talk' immediately. "Hey, sweetie," she says brightly. "How's my genius son?" Woooyoung smiles, stops to plunk himself down on a bench. He pulls his cigarettes from his bag while saying, "Hey, mom." "Are you smoking?" she demands, just as he flicks his lighter. "I thought you quit." Wooyoung groans, putting the smoke back in the pack. "I'm quitting," he corrects. "Slowly. School is stressful." "But you're keeping up your grades, right? You're attending all your classes, not slacking off?" "Of course," Wooyoung says instantly.

Like he could slack off. If he slacked off he'd lose his scholarship, and they don't have a lot of money, his family. In fact, he's the first to go to university, or college. He can't afford not to bust his ass. Can't afford to slack at all, to miss classes or get behind on his work. If he loses his scholarship, he loses his future. Not just the distant one, but the immediate one. He'd lose his monthly funding, he'd lose his dorm room. He'd be so, so fucked. And everyone would be so disappointed in him. He remembers, when he got accepted, full ride, how proud everyone had been of him. How his mom had cried and his dad had slapped his shoulder and said, "I always knew you could do it." How his parents had thrown a huge party, invited all their closest friends to brag about it. How they'd saved up for months to get him his laptop and other supplies. He'd be disappointed in himself, too. And it would have all been for nothing.

The past four years of pushing himself to exhaustion. Of giving up those years of high school where he was supposed to be a teenager. Where he was supposed to go to parties and hang out with friends and skip class to smoke weed underneath the bleachers. Years he'd instead spent doing homework. Doing extracurriculars because they looked good on applications. Years where he'd missed out on school dances and that one party he'd been invited to.

Not that he hadn't made some friends, only they were like Wooyoung. They worked hard, and they were too busy planning for the future to live in the now. So while he didn't sit alone at lunch, while he had someone to work on projects with in classes, to bitch about the other kids with, he didn't have someone to hang out with after school. Didn't have someone to call him in the middle of the night just to talk about their parents fighting, or their girlfriend breaking up with them. Except for Yeosang but, really, Wooyoung doesn't like to think about Yeosang all that often. When he'd graduated, left home, he'd left that part of himself, too. It's easier this way.

"That's good, then," his mother says, her voice getting thicker. "I'm so proud of you. You know that, yes? We're all so, so proud of you." "Mom," Wooyoung whines. "Don't cry, okay? I've been gone for months. I thought we talked about this. No getting emotional." "I'm sorry," she blubbers. "just love you, and I want the very, very best for you. You deserve that. You deserve more than that." "I have to go," Wooyoung says abruptly. His own eyes burn, and the girl who walks past him gives him a funny look. "I have class. I'll talk to you soon." "You better!" his mom says. "I love you." "Love you. Tell dad I love him, too." "Will do," she promises. "Bye."

When he's got his phone in his pocket, he puts his cigarettes back in his bag and heads for the coffee shop. He still has about twenty minutes before class, which gives him enough time to wait in the always impossibly long line for a drink and maybe something to eat. As predicted, the shop is packed. The line is to the door, and every single table is filled to the point of brimming, extra chairs pulled around the edges just to fit people in. It's the only place on campus, aside from the cafeteria, to get anything to eat or drink. Which means that, unless you have a car or a lot of time to spare, it's your only option.

"Wooyoung!" He almost doesn't react to it. Unless it's Yunho, or Mingi, hardly anyone really talks to him. But he turns, finds Hongjoong two people behind him in line, and hesitantly smiles. Next thing he knows, Hongjoong's line hopping, butting in front of people to stand beside Wooyoung. "You just saved me, like, five minutes," he says. Behind them, people grumble about Hongjoong jumping ahead. "Thanks." "Uh, no problem," Wooyoung says, but he didn't really do anything. Hongjoong nods. He's got a backpack hanging off one shoulder, sunglasses on his face even though they're still inside. He's also wearing his jersey, and Wooyoung distantly remembers someone mentioning the game on Thursday. Or everyone, really, because sports is a big thing around here, and it's all anyone can talk about most of the time. Plus, he rooms with San, which means he gets an unofficial game schedule.

Around game days, San turns into a ball of nerves and angst. He wallows nervously around the room, working out more than he should, blasting his music until Wooyoung or their neighbors complain, and then he'll put in his headphones and stomp out of the room. He gets extra moody, snapping at Wooyoung for the most miniscule things, even ones that he's aware are stupid and petty. Like turning over in the middle of the night, or his alarm going off in the morning to wake up for class.

"You should come," Hongjoong says, like his train of thought is running on the same track as Wooyoung's. "To the game. I don't think I've ever seen you at a game." Wooyoung snorts, he can't help it. "How would you even know? Hundreds of people attend those games. There's no way you'd have noticed me if I went." "True," Hongjoong says, "but San says you never go." "Not my thing," Wooyoung admits. They shuffle forward a few feet. "Don't really have the time, most days. And it's not my scene. I don't really like sports." "School pride, though!" Hongjoong says loudly."You gotta attend at least one game, dude. You should come Thursday. Bring your friends. Afterwards we always have a big party at Seonghwa's house. It's different than the last one we went to, promise. It's more laid back. The whole team goes." Wooyoung makes a face. "I don't really think that-" "Seriously," Hongjoong says lowly. "Some people would kill for an invite to that party. You realize that, right? It's hard to get in if you're not on the team. But I want you to come."

Wooyoung is aware of the fact that Hongjoong has no idea how much of a douche he sounded like, saying that. He knows it wasn't meant to be malicious or 'We're better than everyone' but it sort of was, acting like Wooyoung should be jumping at the opportunity just because it was a 'cool' party for 'cool' people or whatever. But Hongjoong isn't like that, he knows. He's just... a little naive, maybe.

"I don't know," Wooyoung eventually says. They're almost at the counter now, and he's grateful. "I'll think about it?" Hongjoong grins. "You should. Let San know what you decide." Hongjoong's eyebrows draw together. "Actually, don't do that. He'd probably not tell me because he hates you. Just, uh, let me know. I'll give you my number." "That's really not-" Hongjoong's already pulling a pen out of his bag, grabbing Wooyoung's arm to scribble his number down."You don't have to," Hongjoong adds when he's done, recapped pen safe and sound in his bag once more. "If you really don't want to, don't feel bad. But if you decide you do, just text me. Or text me whenever, for any reason." "Okay," Wooyoung agrees, a little too stunned to do much more. "I- I will."

"Good Morning! How can I help you?" the barista asks, and Wooyoung rolls his sleeve back down and orders himself a coffee.