Holy Smokes! || JeongChan

With Total Defeat

It doesn't take long for chan to stumble back into his bass drum, knocking down all 5 in the process, unleashing chaos.

And now everyone's looking at me.

"It's n-not my fault— fuck!" I exclaim, hands up in defense.

"Of course it is, you ticked and knocked over my bass drum!" Chan insists with wide eyes.

And agreeing with him is the other homophobic bass, now that our percussion director is on the scene looking at the damage, and making sure that none is done.

"Jeongin. We're going to need to have a talk before you leave tonight" he sighs, and I hang my head, not even bothering to argue.

Once he goes back to the field, Chan starts laughing like a maniac.

"Wow! You really just complied like that! Have fun paying for the damages!" He shrugs, and it takes everything I have in me to not punch the older, sending me into a red faced tic fit.

And for the next two weeks, it seems this is the life I'll lead. When I'm gray and old or even in a few years I'll be dying, and on my deathbed Chan will be there, and god knows he'll be laughing. Hard.

But somethings about to change, here at our third home game.

And it's not about anything that will happen.

It's what doesn't.

Here I am another year, standing in the bleachers at the beginning of a game. As usual, excitement rings through my body in the form of hyperness, spirit, and of course tics.

And now the star spangled banner begins to play, before the game can kick off.

I hold my hand over my chest, standing silently as the sun sets as the choir sings.

But as each second passes, the tics become almost unbearable.

A lot of the time, I can hold it in. But right now, I swear. I'm going to die.

Just a little longer! I will myself, choking several times as the choir hits their high note.

The pledge finally ends, and as the crowd cheers I feel tears release from my eyes now that I can let it out.

I stomp my right foot several times, while punching my chest and blinding rapidly.

"Shit! Fu-fuck! Holy smokes!" My neck jerks.

The energy zapping througout my body brings the eyes of several onlookers, including my own friends who look with disappointment.

I look down, neck still jerking with hums escaping.

And as expected, I hear the raspy laughs of our bass one.. But no laughter emerges from chan.

I look up in confusion. It's not like I want it, but I know he would have noticed that outburst. He would've found it hilarious!

In front of me chan stands, the lights of the bleachers turning on right as I look up.

He's not laughing, nor does he notice his giggling friend.

Instead, he holds his sticks in his hands, his legs spread slightly as he looks up at me, mouth slightly agape.

The eye contact seems to last forever.

Is.. is this even the same person?

After a solid 5 seconds, it's broken by the strong jerk of my neck, eyes squeezing shut with a tongue pop.

And when I look back, Chan is facing the other way playing the stand tunes.

—

CHAN POV

I never even considered it at first.

The teasing, the bullying all came naturally.

At first, at band camp, there was something unsettling about his face.

But it couldn't have been because he's adorable.

And when I found out about his Tourette's, it's like time stopped, and presented me this destiny.

And for weeks I've done everything within my power to draw attention to it. I wish I knew why.

I'm not inherently mean. And I'm not a bully. But something in me is drawing so towards Jeongin.. my only choice, my only safe choice is to believe that he's appalling.

But now, his eyes fill with tears just overflowing, and the sun is coming to a set slumber behind him. The tears spill with the end of the music, and with an aura of pure defeat, jeongin submits to the urge to tic.

And with total defeat and horror, I discover that I don't see disaster and inadequacy.

I see beauty.