Chapter Text
“Just go talk to him,” Sejin’s least favorite hyung, also named Sejin, says. (No comment on whether having the same name contributes to their animosity — unless, of course, Bae Sejin admits it first.)
The other reason Bae Sejin will never beat Chungwoo in the “favorite hyungs” ranking is because he says dumb shit like “Just go talk to him.”
Like Sejin hasn’t tried that.
The following is an unabridged list of things Lee Sejin has said to Park Moondae:
- • Hi! I’m Lee Sejin. What’s your name?
• Wanna get coffee sometime?
• Oh. Yeah, no, of course. Totally cool. Got it. For sure. Uhuh. No worries, so cool, I get it. So I guess I’ll see you ar—
• Fuck.
Actually, the last one was less to Park Moondae and more to himself.
“The thing is,” Raebin says, “I also wouldn’t say yes to a date if it was the literal first thing that person had ever said to me.”
“It was the second thing I said to him,” Sejin corrects, to protect his dignity. “Also, didn’t you, actually?”
“No?”
They both look over at Eugene, who is losing badly to Chungwoo in a one on one match — but to be fair, that’s certainly because Eugene is currently using his racquet upside down, for reasons unknown to anyone else. The athletics director is notoriously lax, probably because who the hell cares about gym class in college, so as long as there’s a ball going back and forth he couldn’t care less. They’ll all get their stupid mandatory physical education credits and move on.
“It’s a common misperception that Eugene asked me,” Raebin explains. “I was actually the person to ask him if he wanted to get ice cream. Because he tripped and fell on his face in front of me and I felt bad. And then afterwards he asked me if it was a date and we decided yes.”
“Oh.”
“Have you tried tripping—“
“No.”
He may really want to take Park Moondae on a date, but he’s not that far gone. Yet.
But he ruffles Raebin’s hair in thanks anyway, because unlike Bae Sejin he was actually trying to be helpful.
Then Ahyeon wins his match and waves Sejin over to be his next opponent, so he has to leave Raebin and Bae Sejin on the sidelines, alongside his bad habit of peeking at a certain photographer every few seconds. He’s already learned the hard way that getting distracted by Park Moondae while playing Ahyeon is a one way ticket to a tennis ball in the face.
But that doesn’t mean he isn’t aware of him. Every cell in his body is attuned to the fact that Park Moondae is sitting on a blanket in the grass a short distance from the tennis courts, fiddling with his camera, taking closeup photos of the scattered dandelions and then critically examining the results, occasionally remembering to take a bite of his lunch.
It’s a complete mystery to Sejin how Park Moondae can maintain his cool aloofness while also being the kind of person who does cute shit like take his lunch outside for a solo picnic during which he takes photos of flowers. Someone needs to take a photo of that and immortalize it.
Sejin could probably beat Ahyeon if he tried, but there’s no incentive to when winning means playing another round and losing means he gets to go back to the sidelines where he can sneak glances at Moondae while chatting with the others who are unable to win or uninterested in trying. So he swings wildly, makes a fool of himself, doesn’t score a single point, and is rewarded with Ahyeon’s amusement, heckling from the sidelines, and permission to leave the court until his next turn. He feels great about it until he turns around to find Park Moondae standing right there, looking deeply unimpressed.
“You’re really bad at tennis,” he says.
Sejin regrets not taking physical education seriously. He’s sinking into grief about it so fast that he’s too tongue-tied to answer.
Thankfully, Raebin, the best bro in the world, gunning for Wingman of the Year, pipes up: “Sejin hyung is good at tennis! He just likes to joke around!” Thank you, Raebin, now please casually mention how much he can lift, thanks. “Not that I’m saying Sejin hyung takes classes lightly. He probably takes his academic classes very seriously, though I’m not sure because we’ve never been in the same classes and he’s always goofing off in the library. But—” No, Raebin, not that, go back to the previous topic. “Sejin hyung is never disrespectful of others, if you ask him to quiet down because you’re studying he will! He’s even really helpful to brainstorm paper topics with because while you’re explaining why none of his suggestions would work you’ll stumble on an idea you can use. So I’m sure his academic record is—”
“I wasn’t trying!” Sejin says loudly. “Um, I played a lot earlier so I wanted to give other people a turn on the court! See, now it’s Raebin’s turn since I lost, isn’t that fun, Raebin? Don’t keep Ahyeon waiting!”
“But I think Bae Sejin hyung is next—”
“Nope, it’s you. Right, Sejin hyung?”
It’s a toss up whether Bae Sejin will go along with this, but after a moment his desire to do less physical education triumphs over his desire to embarrass Sejin, and he says, “Yes, Raebin, you’re ahead of me.”
“Oh!” Raebin hurries onto the court, yelling apologies for keeping Ahyeon waiting, and Sejin breathes a sigh of relief.
Then Bae Sejin says to Moondae, “I have been in classes with Sejin, and he goofs off there too.”
Fuck. Staying behind was actually Bae Sejin’s evil master plan to both play less tennis and have the opportunity to embarrass Sejin.
“So what brings you over here?” Sejin asks loudly. “You wanna play some tennis too?”
“No, I just…” Moondae adjusts the strap of his camera around his neck and sort of glances over his shoulder but stops himself. “Um, thought I’d say hi. To Chungwoo hyung. But he’s busy.”
Sejin looks further to where Moondae had been sitting before, the patch of grass a little indented where his blanket was. At first there doesn’t seem to be a reason Moondae would be glancing back, but then he sees someone in the shade, leaning on the trunk of a tree near Moondae’s sunny spot. It’s an upperclassman he recognizes.
“Why are you two doing tennis?” Moondae asks.
“For the required gym credits.”
“You could’ve just done the health class offered to freshmen in your first year, though.”
“It didn’t fit in my schedule,” Bae Sejin says gloomily.
Sejin had not been aware that existed, but he opts to nod like it’s the case for him too.
“Well.” Moondae drops his pile of blanket on the ground and sits down neatly on it. “I’ll just wait here until Chungwoo hyung loses.”
Bae Sejin says, “It’ll be a while. He’s a lot better at tennis than Sejin is.”
Unfortunately, this means that next time Sejin’s turn comes up he has to actually play well to refute the accusation, so he puts his all into it when facing Chungwoo and manages to send the reigning champion over to the sidelines as Moondae wanted.
It’s a hollow victory, because now Chungwoo gets to go chat with Moondae and Sejin has to play a round against Eugene and then others in the class who are too mediocre at tennis for him to lose to with dignity. He’s trapped on court and grumpy about it until the end of class, when he’s pleasantly surprised to find that Moondae hasn’t left yet. He’s still sitting on the ground, having unfolded his blanket a bit more so Eugene can sit on a corner too, with Chungwoo squatting next to them, twirling a racquet in his hands as they talk.
Sejin knew that Moondae was acquainted with most of his friend group, but he thought it was just acquaintanceship. As far as he could tell, Moondae wasn’t close to anyone. But it appears he actually knows Chungwoo. Though the conversation ends when he walks up, it seemed to be much more in depth than the aloof way Moondae talked to Sejin, Other Sejin, or Raebin, with his body never quite turned toward them and a wariness in his eyes like even a conversation he started himself might turn out to be a trap.
He can’t help himself from asking, “What are we talking about?”
Moondae is surely about to say “Nothing,” or maybe tell him to mind his business, but he made a tactical error allowing Cha “No Boundaries” Eugene to share his blanket.
Eugene answers, “About how Moondae hyung needs a boyfriend!”
Sejin’s brain stutters and freezes.
“Wait, not a boyfriend. What’s the word. A bodyguard!”
Eugene has five minutes to redeem himself from giving Sejin a heart attack or Sejin will never forgive him, and the clock is starting now.
“A boyfriend? A bodyguard?” he very casually asks.
“It’s nothing,” Moondae says.
Sejin begs Chungwoo with his eyes, but he doesn’t jump in to explain, just gives Sejin a pleasant smile that warns him not to bother asking. Stupid responsible Chungwoo respecting people’s privacy.
The thing is, Eugene is a wonderful menace who doesn’t even realize there’s a privacy here that he’s trampling on. “Both would work!” He says cheerfully. “I think Moondae should pretend to date someone!”
Huh? What?
“I don’t follow. What’s going on?” He directs this to Moondae, who is looking at Eugene in resignation.
“Someone’s been bothering me. We were discussing what to do about it.”
For a heartstopping moment, Sejin thinks it’s him and he’s ready to shrivel up and die. He literally hasn’t approached Moondae since the rejected coffee date incident and he didn’t think he was staring that much. Had he really made him uncomfortable?
Eugene butts in, “That cool hyung, you know! Except he’s not cool, if he’s bothering Moondae hyung.”
Sejin immediately looks to where Moondae had originally been sitting, but the upperclassman who was lurking in the tree’s shade is gone. He thinks he remembers, though.
“Shin Jaehyun?” Everyone knows Shin Jaehyun, because he’s handsome enough to be an actor and twice as charismatic. If there was a stratified social hierarchy in college the way there was in Sejin’s high school, Shin Jaehyun would be at the top. Since there isn’t, he’s just someone whose name and face everyone knows on campus. Someone impressive and, as Eugene said, cool.
Moondae doesn’t confirm or deny, just cups a hand beneath his chin and looks away.
“Is he following you around?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
He would bet it is though, if Moondae decided to talk to someone about it. He strikes Sejin as someone who prefers to handle his own problems, but he came over here to find Chungwoo – actually, that was probably just an excuse to come over where there were people to buffer him from Shin Jaehyun. But he clearly ended up spilling to Chungwoo anyway, which says enough.
“If you’ve already told him to stop, or if you don’t feel safe to tell him, you should talk to someone official. He can’t–”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Right, Chungwoo would have already said all this anyway.
Chungwoo sighs and stands up, offering a hand to pull Moondae up as well. Sejin can’t help being jealous that Moondae actually takes it. How close are they? “Well, if you’re not willing to do that, and you said he doesn’t approach when you’re with people, all I can offer is for you to stick with us.”
“That’s it!” Eugene shouts from the ground. “That’s what confused my mouth! Because I was thinking about what would keep the not cool hyung away! A boyfriend-bodyguard!”
“Eugene, stand up and give Moondae his blanket back,” Chungwoo says.
“No, listen, it’s a good idea! Moondae just has to pretend to date someone so he’ll have an excuse to always be with someone!”
“Or I could just pretend to have friends?” Moondae says.
“Or you could actually have friends,” Chungwoo says dryly. “Imagine.”
“Yeah, where do you get those?”
“Right here.”
“On a tennis court?”
God, he’s cute when he annoys Chungwoo all deadpan like that. It’s almost so cute that Sejin doesn’t hate Chungwoo for being the recipient of it, but he still does, a little.
“On a tennis court,” Chungwoo agrees. “Or in the South dorms, where most of us live. None of us have classes after this so usually we wash up and regroup in my unit to hang out until dinner. You can come if you want to watch whatever drama Sejin hyung will put on or do some homework. It’s noisier than the library but more fun.”
"I guess that sounds okay," says Moondae.
It’s because of this episode that Sejin feels they’re close enough to stop and say hi when he passes Moondae outside his dorm on his way back from a late night walk around campus. It’s because of this that he understands what’s happening when he sees Shin Jaehyun approaching Moondae at the same moment.
When they both stop in front of Moondae and Shin Jaehyun realizes Sejin isn’t going to keep moving, he sizes Sejin up and smiles. He really is handsome. “Ah, excuse me, I have a standing appointment with Moondae,” he says.
Sejin glances at Moondae. His face is blank as always, but his instincts say no.
“What?” He says. “Why would Moondae make plans with both of us?” He cocks his head at Moondae, feigning confusion. “Did you ask him too?”
He doesn’t think Shin Jaehyun is convinced. He directs a searching gaze at Moondae that doesn’t match his light tone when he also says, “Moondae, who is this? Is he bothering you?”
The fucking nerve of this guy.
Moondae glances between both of them, expressionless, then says, “Of course not. Sejin’s my boyfriend.”
The five minutes Sejin mentally gave Eugene to redeem himself several days ago have long since passed, but suddenly the absent redhead has passed with flying colors thanks to having given Park Moondae the idea to say such a thing.
Eugene, I owe you my life.