The Toothbrush and Toothpaste Chronicles

Stages of Hope

Stages of Hope (Kaisoo)

Hi there~ It's Toothpaste here with the full instalment of Stages of Hope. Enjoy :)

The first stage of hope is naivety. But they’re still young, only year sevens weighed down by baggy jumpers and books, so it’s okay.

And from the first day, Kyungsoo clutches his candle of hope tightly as he breaks free from the crowd of forever surrounding students and sees him. And suddenly, he feels like he must get to know him. Must. But by the end of the day, all he knows is that the boy’s name is Jongin.

Kim Jongin. 

A few weeks later after school, Kyungsoo finds Jongin’s Facebook profile by chance. He smiles winningly to himself, as if he’s just won some sort of grand prize- which he kind of has… in his point of view anyway. He scrolls through Jongin’s posts and photos, and admires his dark locks and beautiful face- the slight nose, the wry curve of his mouth, the dark, entrancing, half-hooded eyes staring straight at him. 

Kyungsoo pulls up Jongin’s chat box, and musters the courage to type in hi, before wavering slightly and hitting enter hesitantly with his index finger. It’s been sent. And he hopes for a reply.

There isn’t. Not for now, anyway. And Kyungsoo hardly blames Jongin- he’s too popular and probably too busy to reply. He thinks he’ll get something in answer later, a smiley face- that’s perhaps hoping for too much- but maybe a hello or simply hi. Some sort of acknowledgement. But the year drags on, and Kyungsoo watches as Jongin’s photo album of selfies and friends piles in number, and his statuses are constantly updated. He never gets his reply. When Kyungsoo scans through the newer pictures, he finds that Jongin’s more stunning than ever. He can’t help but compare him to himself. All Kyungsoo has done is grown a little less boney and a bit more mature. Nothing striking.

Now Kyungsoo dearly hopes that Jongin will notice him, perhaps even a single glance will do. The little flame dances red and gold in his heart, still lighthearted and optimistic for the future. He stares at the handsome boy from a distance with a hopeful expression, in the hopes that he’ll turn around, and his eyes are wide and expectant. 

But of course, he doesn’t turn. Like every other day, all Kyungsoo gets are the fine, broad shoulders clothed in black leather and mass of untameable, raven hair. Oh, and of course, the impeccable view of Jongin’s arse in jeans, which he can’t quite say he dislikes. But he hasn’t quite noticed him, has he? 

He isn’t dissuaded by Jongin’s lack of attention, he’s still hopeful. He’s a bit disappointed though; he really wants Jongin to see him, not let those captivating brown eyes wander past him as if he’s not there. He’s not invisible- he knows he’s not- and he’s not a loner either, but sometimes he wishes he is. It’s the fact that he’s so normal, so average, that blends him into the crowd of students around him. Kyungsoo wonders if its his plain appearance that matches a similarly plain, boring personality. Perhaps he should dye his hair blond, or red, or even something exotic, like green or blue so he won’t be lost in the sea of browns and blacks. Even so, he’s not sure Jongin will look at him. He’s still plain, boring Kyungsoo, the average one in every away. But he still likes to hope.

At first, he sits behind Jongin in class, not even bothering to approach him. He’s fine with gazing at the back of his head and admiring the light that turns Jongin into some sort of ethereal, glowing, tanned angel. The teacher’ll see him and ask him a question, and Kyungsoo will just answer airily, murmuring a correct answer and earning a disapproving glower from the teacher. But Jongin never turns back to look at him, and Kyungsoo’s fine with that.

Kyungsoo decided to be brave and sit next to Jongin in Maths. And five minutes into the lesson, he thinks that perhaps that wasn’t the greatest idea; the gaggle of giggling girls beside him is quite irritating. But he supposes Jongin is worth it. But then the guy behind him begins to talk, and Kyungsoo finds it rather hard to figure out the answer to x. 

‘Dear Maths,’ the guy mutters, ‘please stop asking for your x and don’t ask y.’ 

His friends guffaw and clap him on the back. Kyungsoo groans and tugs his hair as the guy continues to talk uselessly. He tunes him out. His eyes flicker to Jongin, who’s working away studiously, and then to the girl on his other side pushing pink post-it notes into his book. Something twists in his stomach and he feels like he’s tasted something sour. He turns away.

Kyungsoo hears ‘-Jongin-‘ in the conversation of the people behind him. He listens intently, with his head still down, pretending to be working.

‘Look at the pretty boy, Jongin, always prancing about-‘

Kyungsoo ignores the conversation again as he feels his neck prickle and his ears redden. His grip on his pencil tightens a bit more, and he grits his teeth to prevent himself from turning around and defending Jongin.

It’s in year ten when anything changes from that state of silent pining from afar. It’s been three whole years. He’s wanted to be friends, and ‘get to know’ each other, maybe be even be more than that if they ever got to it, but it’s gone as far as a forced hello on a blue moon. That candle of hope wavers, amber flashing like a step of the tango, dimming.

Kyungsoo sits outside on the oval at lunch, watching Jongin dance. He’s practicing in the small corner, probably trying to be unnoticed, but he’s gathered a small group of spectators anyways. They’re mostly girls, in threes and fours, exchanging coy smiles and whispering amongst themselves as they attempt to flaunt themselves subtly. And Kyungsoo is just sprawled comfortably at the foot of a tree, munching away at his second egg and mayo sandwich to fill the emptiness he feels. It might not be hunger though.

Jongin moves fluidly, performing some sort of complicated twirl until he’s facing Kyungsoo’s general direction. And Kyungsoo thinks that Jongin might’ve held his gaze for a second longer than usual. Something similar happens again in art, when Jongin asks him a question for the first time. It’s only a simple ‘Can you pass me the ink pot,’ but all the same it rouses a small scale storm in Kyungsoo. 

The flame inside rises and burns with more confidence. Perhaps Jongin does see him, does acknowledge him. 

Perhaps.

But it doesn’t happen again. Days run, weeks jog, months walk, a year trudges by. 

Kyungsoo hears that Jongin is interested in the pink post-it note girl. He can’t really criticise Jongin for it; the girl is pretty enough, and smarter. Plus, he doesn’t even know if Jongin swings his way. And reality is confirmed when he catches Jongin pulling the girl into a warm embrace. The familiar sour flavour Kyungsoo tastes in his mouth turns bitter. 

Jongin and the girl are officially together on the last day of high school. He watched Jongin whisper the question sweetly into her ear in Maths, and the she had replied with a chaste kiss. His chance is gone, he knows. And now Kyungsoo sits in the same place on the oval, and wonders if fate is taunting him for being so shy, so cowardly to be unable to even tell him- the famous couple is metres away, affectionate and adorable as any other. He wonders why his hope hasn’t completely been extinguished. But he’s always been stubborn, he guesses. 

He turns away.

The school bell rings loud and clear through the haze of the afternoon sun, and the day is done. Kyungsoo pulls his backpack strap over his shoulder and slides out of his seat, spirits low. Jongin and the girl, whose name he still does not know (and does not care to know) are talking to each other animatedly, unaware of his presence. He isn’t needed here. When Kyungsoo leaves, he doesn’t see the girl breathe a sigh of relief. 

It’s all over. A soft, caressing breeze flies through the oval as he walks through it one last time. At the gates, he looks back once more, and there the happy couple is, kissing at the top of the oval, where he used to sit. 

A sad smile passes his lips. Maybe that happiness isn’t meant for him.

Kyungsoo turns back to the gates and walks out.

The flame of hope vanishes entirely, and all that is left is a smouldering pile of ashes that has burned through his defences and destroyed him.  

It’s truly all over. 

Thanks for reading, everyone! ~Toothpaste