Park Chanyeol | Chanyeol & Reader [On Hold]

Chapter 4

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On your way to detention, your heart beat uncontrollably. It was your first time and you didn't know how it would go.

But somehow, you were certain that you weren't going to be on your own.

Knocking on the classroom door, you slowly opened the door and peeked inside before entering. The teacher's head turned in your direction with a tired smile, and Chanyeol, who was peacefully sleeping, spared you a glance.

"Since you are here now, I'll go to my office and grade your exams," the techer stood, slamming her hands on the desk. "But don't you dare get out of here before detention's over. Understood?"

A shiver ran through your body, but you ignored it and nodded.

Your plans during detention were: first, stay as far away from Chanyeol as possible. Second, do your homework in peace. Last but not least, leave this place in one, unharmed piece.

In order to follow your plan, the first thing you did was sit at the right side of the classroom, since Chanyeol is on the left side. You placed your books neatly on the desk in front of you and inhaled a deep breath to ready yourself to start.

You didn't even have the chance to open the first book or even sharpen your pencil when you heard humming followed by singing.

Ignoring all the disturbance, you dedicated all your attention to the untouched homework and forgot about Chanyeol's existence.

"Why are you here?"

You didn't want to make any eye contact with him. "Because I was late."

"And why were you late?" he asked.

You didn't know why, but you were scribbling roughly at the middle of the page. "Because....I overslept?"

For some reason, every single time you spoke, your answers sounded like questions. You wondered if he would understand your current state and shut the hell up for once.

You swallowed hard, trying to moisten your dry throat. "Why are you so chatty today?"

Worried, you prayed not to say something that would hurt his feelings at the end. It's not like you cared, but you weren't ready to be suffocated by any awkwardness.

"No reason. Just felt like it."

"So you talk when you feel like it, but when you don't, you just throw a tantrum wherever you go?"

"What are you talking about? When did I ever throw a tantrum?" He stood from his seat, leaned his body weight on the desk, and crossed his arms over his chest.

You didn't know what has gotten into you, or you why you suddenly said that. But you could tell you were clearly pissed.

"I really hope you're not talking about that time I took your seat–" he said with one of his eyebrows arched– "because if that's what you mean, then I don't really know what to say other than I won't apologize for it."

Too many questions were running through your mind, you couldn't process what was happening before your eyes.

Why did you start this? You didn't know.

Where you really going to argue over a stupid seat? You weren't sure.

All you knew was that you really wanted to punch him.

"I could sit here if I wanted it to."

With one swift move your books were pushed aside and he was the one occupying the vacant seat on your desk.

You pushed back your chair, which caused the loudest screech, and stood. "What are you doing? Get away!" as a matter of fact, you didn't mean to raise your voice.

"You don't own everything, Y/N."

It was the first time he has ever said your name. You even thought that he probably didn't know it.

Crimson seeped through your cheeks, probably from the embarrassment you caused to yourself. There was no way out of this place. You didn't have any other option, but to say something in return.

"That was my assigned seat since the very beginning, and that's were I feel most comfortable. So..."

He wasn't wrong, though. You didn't own the seat, and you felt ridiculous for fighting over it. You bit your lower lip too hard, it definitely drew blood.

He smiled in response. It was too irritating, you really wanted to—

"Get out of here, kids. Detention's over."

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