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pathologicalreid · 7 months ago

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safe space | s.r.

in which Jack Hotchner comes to your classroom after spotting Mr. Scratch on school grounds

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst content warnings: takes place during early season 12, mr scratch/peter lewis, kindergarten teacher!reader, mom!reader, wife!reader, the spencer reid dilf agenda, nondescript illness, lying to your spouse word count: 1.9k a/n: this just popped into my head while i was watching season 12 AND @lilacsandlavenderhaze has a request in for kindergarten teacher!reader angst AND i wanted to give lia reading material for her train ride so we are killing three birds with one stone

You’d just turned your monitor off when you heard a knock at your door. Initially, you assumed it was Janet, a member of the custodial staff, coming to see if you had left for the day, but as you approached the door, you didn’t see anyone through the small window.

Your footsteps faltered, hesitating to open the door because you weren’t sure what you’d find on the other side, you were certainly surprised to find Jack Hotchner standing outside of your door. Frowning, you stepped to the side as he shoved into your classroom, “Jack? What’s wrong?”

Sometimes, Jack would sit in your classroom while you finished work, and you’d take him home to help out his dad and aunt, but as far as you knew, the BAU was in town, and Hotch didn’t need any extra help today. “He’s here,” Jack said ominously, his tone enough of a warning to prompt you to close your classroom door.

“Who’s here?” You asked, clicking the door shut and turning back to him. He was nervous, clutching the straps of his backpack like it was a lifeline.

Wide-eyed, Jack peeked out the windows next to your door, “Peter Lewis.”

Instinctively, you locked your classroom door, before standing in front of Jack, “Honey, how do you know who that is?”

He gulped, probably wondering if he’d get in trouble for knowing something he shouldn’t have, but in this case, his knowledge might have protected him. “I saw my dad’s files out on the kitchen table, I recognize his face.”

Technically, Peter Lewis wasn’t a name you were supposed to recognize, and yet, you’d heard the name from Spencer’s lips countless times in the last year. Even more so since he managed to escape from prison, “Where did you see him?”

“Outside by the busses,” he told you, following you through your classroom until you made it back to your desk, searching for your cell phone. “Are you gonna call Uncle Spencer?”

You shook your head, scrolling through your contacts until you came across one Aaron Hotchner, “I’m calling your dad.” Blood drained from your face as realization dawned on you, “Jack, do you know where Henry is?”

He tapped on your desk anxiously; the fidgeting was the only movement that clued you into his nervousness. Jack’s facial expression was completely stoic, and you wondered, not for the first time, if it was genetic. “He went home early,” He told you, “His dad picked him up.”

Nodding to yourself as you clicked the call button on your phone and held it up to your ear, grateful that you didn’t need to be a haven for multiple BAU kids. You’d had both boys as students in kindergarten, but Henry was in second grade and Jack was in fifth now.

“Hello?” A familiar voice came in through the phone, instinctively, you reached out a hand and smoothed Jack’s hair back.

You smiled sadly at Jack, you didn’t call Hotch often, and when you did, it was seldom good news. “Hey, Hotch,” you greeted him, “I’ve got Jack here in my classroom, and I think we have a bit of a situation.”

Explaining the events of the afternoon to Hotch, you heard him packing up to leave work on the other line—the click of his briefcase, the placement of pens in a mug. “Can you put me on speakerphone?” He asked. Of course, you obliged, letting Jack take the phone in his hands, “Hey buddy, you did the right thing by going to Mrs. Reid’s classroom.”

“I saw him in your folders,” Jack said, trying to explain himself.

There was a fine line that needed to be walked when it came to what you all decided to tell your children. In this case, Jack’s snooping might have been what kept him safe. It made your chest ache, and it made you anxious to get home to your own kids. “I know, it’s okay. I’m gonna leave work and come pick you up…” His voice trailed off for a moment, “Can you give the phone back to Mrs. Reid?”

Jack handed the phone to you, and you smiled softly at him, “Hey, why don’t you take a seat in one of the bean bag chairs?” You gestured to your classroom’s comfy corner and brought the phone back up to your ear, “Hey.”

“Would you mind staying at the school with him? Just until I can get there, I just have to make sure I let Dave know that I’m leaving,” he informed you.

You swallowed thickly, it was a wonder that you were more nervous than Jack was right now, but maybe that was a blessing in disguise. “Yeah, that’s fine, Hotch. I’ll be here for as long as you guys need,” you assured him, watching as Jack dutifully opened his backpack and pulled out a binder.

Hotch released a sigh of relief, “Thank you, Y/N.”

After hanging up the phone, you went over to your snack cabinet and pulled out a package of goldfish crackers, bringing them over to Jack and holding them out for him to take. They were his favorite when he was in your class, and you hoped they still were. Maybe he was just humoring you when he took them gratefully, “Do you want something to drink?”

“Just water is fine,” he answered, focused on the pages on his lap.

You hesitated, “Are you sure?” You wandered over to your desk and opened the small fridge that you stashed beneath it, “I have some yogurt drinks… I have apple juice. Does your dad usually let you have juice?”

Holding out the juice box like an offering, you let him see it before he answered, “Sometimes.”

“Well, I think he’ll forgive me today,” you admitted, acknowledging the extenuating circumstances. You kept the juice boxes in your classroom in case of a low blood sugar, but you worried about giving him too much sugar without his dad’s permission. Then again, Jack could probably handle more sugar than your toddlers could.

He thanks you again, this time for the juice box, and sets it on the small side table with his opened bag of goldfish.

You noticed his drawings in the binder, he was in the process of coloring in a bunch of spaceships, but it wasn’t his precise coloring that you took note of, it was the fact that he was coloring in lines that he had drawn himself. Quickly, you texted your nanny to let her know that you’d be a little late getting home before sitting down in the bean bag next to him. “Those are really well done, Jack.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, focused on getting the straw into his juice box.

Deciding to try again, you wiped your clammy palms on your skirt, “Is that what you want to do when you grow up?” You asked him, peeking over at the papers again, “Design spaceships.”

Jack shrugged in response as he took a sip from his juice, “I’m not sure.”

Nodding in understanding, you let him sit and continue his drawing, smiling when he periodically snacked on a goldfish. You wondered if Hotch had the same fear as you. That one day, one of your kids would come up to you and proclaim that they wanted to be an FBI agent just like their dad. You wanted the best for your kids, and you wanted them to follow their own dreams, but not at the cost that the FBI took.

You both startled when a knock came at your door, you gently touched the side of Jack’s chair, “It’s probably just your dad,” you reassured him, “I’ll go look.”

Setting down your snack, you warily approached your classroom door, releasing a sigh of relief when you saw Hotch on the other side. “Hey,” you said, opening the door for him, “Jack, he’s here.”

He started shoving his things in his backpack, minding his juice and snack on the table as he tossed the bag over his shoulders. “Hi, dad,” he greeted.

“Hey, bud,” Hotch greeted with a small wave before he turned to you, “I didn’t say anything to anyone before I left, and I was wondering if you could refrain from mentioning anything to Reid.”

You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, “I don’t keep secrets from my husband, Hotch,” you told him, shrugging slightly as you did.

Hotch nodded, “Could you just… delay it by a day, then? Just until I’m able to sort some things out.”

Meeting his gaze, you recognized the fear in them; it was the same fear you saw in Spencer’s eyes every time an UnSub got a little too close to the team. The look you saw when you and the kids were put into protective custody. With that in mind, your head bobbed, “Sure thing, Hotch.”

A day, you could do a day, you assured yourself as the three of you said your goodbyes, leaving you to relock your door and return to your desk. You took a seat, resting your chin in your hands as you eyed a photo on your desk. It was from last Christmas when you and Spencer took the kids to meet Santa. They were all grinning at the camera, even your youngest, who usually bore a scowl.

Closing your eyes, you tried to convince yourself to get up and head home when your phone started ringing. You sighed at the sight of the Caller ID: Spencer.

Swiping the screen, you brought it up to your ear, “Hi, honey.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked you immediately, “You sound upset.”

You sniffled, “No, it’s fine. I just…” you searched your mind for a fib, “There’s something going around the school. A stomach bug or something.”

In the background of the call, you heard the dinging of elevators, familiar BAU sounds, “Yeah, it sounds like Henry’s picked something up, so JJ’s headed home early. I’m worried Jack might’ve gotten it too, Hotch left in kind of a hurry not too long ago.”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you nodded to yourself, “Uh, yeah. I’m just about to head home myself.”

“Well, with the team down two, Rossi decided we should just call it a day, so I’m actually on my way out too,” he told you. “I was wondering if you wanted to try to take the kids to that new playground out by Falls Church, but if you’re not feeling well, I can just take them and let you rest.”

You laughed weakly, more at the situation than anything, “I’d love to, and the kids will like it too.” At the very least, they’d sleep well tonight after playing their energy away.

He hummed over the phone, “Perfect, I’ll see you when I get home?” He asked, acknowledging that you had a shorter commute than him and would likely beat him home.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, standing up and gathering your things with your phone wedged between your shoulder and cheek. “Hey, Spence?”

“Yes, lovely?” He chirped in response, clearly in a much better mood than you.

You sighed, “I love you.”

He was silent for a moment, “Are you sure you’re alright? Is something wrong?”

Shaking his head even though he couldn’t see, you answered, “I just really, really love you.”

“Well,” he responded, his grin apparent in his tone, “I really, really love you too.”

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juyeoz · 2 months ago

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( 💬 ) LONG CHAT (#♡) — SIM JAKE

BLACK HEART ❥ 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 .

( ♡ ) ft. sci-geek!jake & fem!reader

BACK 2 SHELF ─── ### a boy who’s mistaken for being mean meets a clumsy and forgetful girl ✶ cw: strangers to friends to lovers fluff crack ⧽ jake is misunderstood kissing ✉️ 1O25O words

[ >ᴗ< note ] . the book awkward forever resonates with me,, bringing back my love for sci geeks starting off with jake alsooo new layout how r we feeling….😈

THE CLOSER YOU APPROACH CLASSROOM 116, THE MORE YOUR FRIENDS’ WORDS replay in your head as the light above you flickers. Don’t visit the science hall after school hours—the boy ghost of the science hallway will be mad. Once you go, you’ll never come back. This and that and so much more. Hell, your friends even fear the ghost and even constantly refuse to go with you.

Apparently, he watches over it once the bell sounds at 3:15 p.m. The clock down at the end of the hallway struck 3:20 p.m. leaving you in shambles. You mentally scold yourself for leaving your chemistry notebook behind after being in quite the hurry to leave, lunch was calling you.

If you weren’t so clumsy, then you would’ve never left it. Nevertheless, your forgetfulness doesn’t help your case either. You only realize you lost your notebook a few minutes before the end-of-the-day bell had gone (excluding the extra time it took you to remember where you last had it).

You don’t know anything about this ghost, nor have you heard anything about him. Today is the first time and hopefully the last. Another thing one of your friend’s told you was the fact that anyone who came within the ghost’s vicinity became wary of the science hall.

Even if it is during the school day.

You shake your head and reach for your phone with quick movements. Maybe your friends can help you from wherever they currently are.

You: I can’t do it. I’m too scared.

Minju: You’ll be fine, trust me.

You: You’re the same person who told me that you fear the name of the ghost???

Minju: Pfft what?? I don’t recall…

Sunoo: Say his name three times and he’ll appear, (Name)...

You: You’re not helping my case, Sunoo!

Jiung: He’s the meanest of them all, even worse than the grinch. I heard stories about him—one look his way and you’ll be turned into stone like Medusa or be attacked with whatever chemicals he made in his beakers.

Your grip tightens on your cell phone, leaving you even more nervous than before. It’s your fault for thinking your friends could help you. It’s obvious to you they’re only making it worse.

Minju: Rumor has it, he’s a student at our school. Apparently, he omits bad omen and is really rude to many.

You take a step forward, inching closer and closer to the shut door that belongs to classroom 116, eyes still glued to your phone screen.

Sunoo: He’s even in our grade, but people rarely see him unless they share a class with him. He’s always cooped up in a science classroom, probably haunting the hall whenever he gets a chance.

What? He’s your age?

Your head tilts in confusion. Did the ghost take over the student’s body?

Jiung: Only a few know of his name. Others are too afraid to utter it because they’re scared that he’ll appear before them if they do.

Minju: It’s Sim Jake.

“Sim Jake?” You say out loud in a questioning tone as you subconsciously open the door. You’re not aware of your current surroundings due to your fixated attention onto your phone, however the clanking of glass changes that. It causes your head to shoot up at a quick speed and sends your gaze darting around the room, taking note of where you are standing—inside classroom 116.

Your chemistry class from earlier.

Your phone slips from your grasp, hitting the ground with the screen facing up. The dimness emits the dark classroom as you reach down to pick it up with shaky hands. For some reason, the classroom feels more different than it would during the first period.

It’s dark. Very dark.

All you need to do is grab your notebook and get out of there ASAP, but your legs won’t move. You’re stuck and frozen in fear. You’re afraid that any sound you make, including a tiny one, will alert whatever is in this classroom with you.

Glasses continue to clink against one another, but, this time it’s lighter. More gentle. Your hand begins to pat the wall behind you in an attempt to find the lightswitch. Usually, it’s an immediate find and yet you’re struggling.

You’re struggling so hard that you managed to knock over this plastic hanging shelf, dropping files everywhere.

Many times in class you’d stare at the shelf wondering when it would give out. It seemed to be hanging on its last thread—literally—while you waited patiently for the time to come. And to your dismay, it just had to be now. During the moment where all you wanted was silence. Your life was on the line here.

Your phone begins vibrating in your hand, lighting up to showcase the many text messages your friends are sending you. You definitely had the worst timing ever. Luckily, your hand starts feeling up a familiar switch as relief settles into your system. You flip it, turning on the lights in the classroom.

It’s bright. They feel brighter than usual, but maybe you were just a little too thankful to have them on.

The blue and green-ish notebook on top of your assigned desk is brought to your attention. All you have to do is grab it and leave, that’s it. You don’t even care about who else is in this classroom, seriously.

If running means you’ll get to keep your life, that’s all that matters to you. As you approach your seat, the boy’s name replays in your head—Sim Jake.

It sounds familiar. As if you heard of it or seen it somewhere before now.

Sim Jake.

Seriously, it has a ring to it. However, you can’t pinpoint why it feels familiar to you. Maybe it was on a school notice board or tossed around in a nearby conversation.

Sim Jake.

Maybe you’re confusing it with another name you know of. Perchance you’re hallucinating it all?

“Sim Jake,” The name leaves your lips in a whisper. A faint one at that. Your hand slaps over your mouth once you notice.

Shoot.

It wasn’t loud enough, right?

Nothing will happen. Nothing can happen.

The sight of your notebook is clearer than day as you look down at it. You’re feeling slightly overjoyed that you made it this far. Could this be a new record for the books of Geddon Prep? Most likely. You reach out for the blue and green-ish notebook, hands still shaking slightly, but it stops.

The sudden grip around your wrist stops your hand from shaking. Your eyes tighten at the feeling as an unpleasant feeling settles into your stomach.

Mere seconds of silence that feels like eternity pass by as you wait for something to happen. Part of you is hoping the grip will loosen up and you’ll be able to get out safely, while the rest is praying that everything is just one of your silly hallucinations.

“What are you doing?”

Oh.

It speaks.

At this moment, you accepted your fate. You’re in trouble—big trouble, and there’s no one here to help you. It’s over for you.

“I’m sorry, please let me go alive.” You plead with tightly shut eyes. Fear took over your system. You’re starting to regret even forgetting your notebook in the first place. Maybe if you weren't so clumsy or forgetful, you could’ve avoided such a situation.

“Please.” You beg once more.

Silence.

However, the grip on your wrist doesn’t loosen, instead it tightens.

“I won’t come here ever again, except for when I have class—but that’s besides the point! This place, it’s yours. All yours.”

The words are flowing out of your mouth with no control. Perhaps it’s the scaredy cat in you talking.

“What?” It asks again.

“Please, let go of me.” Your voice is shaky as it leaves your mouth.

“Open your eyes.” It instructs, but you don’t.

How are you supposed to know that you can trust whatever it says? What if it’s holding a glass shard from a broken beaker at your neck? Nothing about it is trustworthy. Not at all.

“Seriously, you look stupid.”

Okay, what the hell? Who taught whatever it is to be so insulting? Your eyes shoot open as your brows furrow.

You start turning your head, fear disappearing from your system within a blink. It’s shocking, really. “Who are you to…” You pause, cutting yourself off. “...Talk…?” Confusion settles in at the sight before you.

It’s a boy. He’s staring back at you just as confused as you are while adjusting the gloves on his hands.

His hands.

If his hands are over there, then what is holding onto your wrist? You’re still looking at him when he cocks his head at your wrist with a scowl present on his face.

Your hand was clasped around your wrist. The grip that continuously tightened was yours and no one else’s.

Well, that’s embarrassing isn’t it?

You let out an awkward laugh before releasing your wrist from your left hand. “Thank you for that.” You say and the boy bluntly stared at you, then silently turned to go back to his work station. He couldn’t even say a simple ‘you’re welcome’, really?

“Rude much…” You mumble, but he picks up on it. However, he lets it be. It’s not that he wasn’t the kind to argue, he simply didn’t know what to say.

Also, why were you going on and on about him ‘letting go’ of you when he wasn’t even holding onto you in the first place? Plus, you called his name, he didn’t call yours.

He doesn’t even know who you are.

Still, it’s a bad habit of his. When Jake doesn’t know what to say to someone, he stares at them expressionless. Many might see this reaction as him showing attitude, when in reality, he’s trying to think of a response.

Too bad this habit of his gave him a pretty bad reputation.

You, on the other hand, grab your notebook feeling bothered by the boy’s reaction. Your mission to get your notebook is nearly complete—until you spot a pencil you lost three labs ago in the back of the classroom. It was your favourite pencil. You were devastated when you noticed you couldn’t find it in its special spot inside of your pencil case. Of course you’re going to take it back. It wouldn’t hurt to put your previous plan on hold for now.

Jake’s gaze is focused upon the graduated cylinder he fondled with all while crouched down to read the meniscus of one of many chemicals he poured.

You make your way to the back of the classroom, eyes on the light pink mechanical pencil. It is such a nice pencil, you miss having it to write with. To your dismay, you are stuck writing with the tiny wooden ones that are the size of your pinky. It feels like torture.

Jake places the test tube back into its slot in the rack and attentively watches the beaker for any chemical changes. Through the clear part of it, he’s able to see you in the distance. You’re heading towards the lab bench he previously worked on, but switched stations because of the chemical spill.

He was so in the moment, he didn’t bother cleaning it up and made a mental note to do so afterwards. However, he isn’t the one in danger. It’s you. You have nothing to protect your skin with and don’t even know what you’re approaching.

His eyes widen at the sight, and next thing you know, he’s rushing over to you. Once he’s behind you, Jake reaches out his hand to grab yours, pulling it away from the countertop. It all happens too fast for you to even register what is going on until you turn around to face a breathless boy. With knitted brows, you stare at him. Waiting for him to explain himself, especially after his rude response from earlier.

What else is he trying to do now? Is all that runs through your mind in this current moment. You eye down his figure: you notice the way his white lab coat wrinkles at the collar, the purple gloves that hug onto his fingers, how his goggles are slowly slipping down his nose bridge, and the name tag on his uniform that is shown from under his lab coat for a brief moment.

Sim Jake it reads. This is the Sim Jake everyone fears? The ‘boy ghost’ of the science hall? From the sight before you, any fear you felt when hearing the many stories about him is long forgotten. You’re even embarrassed at the fact you believed all of them. He doesn’t seem anywhere scary as everyone describes him to be.

“Don’t,” he manages to force out between his heavy breathing. “Touch that.”

Confusion is vividly evident on your face due to his words not explaining his movements any better. “What?” You ask, hoping he’d explain the reasoning behind all of this better this time.

Jake’s mentally cursing at himself for being so unathletic. If he wasn’t always cooped up in his room reading on about experiments or studying his butt off, then maybe. Maybe he wouldn’t be exhausted after taking a few hurried steps.

“Don’t touch that.” He repeats then pauses to exhale. “It’s dirty.” Jake points at the spill on the lab bench deathly near your pencil and finally lets go of your hand. You squint at the liquid, unsure of what it might be, and to be honest, you don’t want to know.

“Is that yours?” Jake questions, moving his pointing finger in the direction of the light pink mechanical pencil as you nod.

“Yes, that’s mine.”

“Okay, uh,” He says to himself, thinking of a plan. Jake moves in closer to the counter and crouches down as you back away from it, switching spots with him in the process. If anything, it’s Jake’s fault that this happened. He feels bad, of course, he does. This could have been avoided if he cleaned up the spill immediately.

Instead, here you two are, standing in front of a contaminated countertop and mechanical pencil.

“Do you need the pencil immediately?” Jake asks and turns his head to look up at you. It’s not that you need it immediately, more so, you want it immediately. It’s been too long without your pencil. You aren’t sure how much longer you can survive with the tiny wooden ones.

“Somewhat.” You reply.

“The thing is, I kind of need to deep clean your pencil before I can return it to you. We have no clue what is on it, so it's safer that way. Is it okay if I do so tomorrow?”

“Do what tomorrow?”

“Return it.” Jake says while rising from his crouched position. “Your pencil, I mean.” He adds.

You look back at his ongoing experiment located behind the two of you, then back at him. As much as you want your pencil now, you feel bad for rushing him since you already disrupted him once.

“Ok.” You press your notebook against your chest, tightening your arms around it. “That works with me.”

“I’ll be here tomorrow after school. Come by whenever you can.” Jake informs and dusts his lab coat off with his covered hands, before returning back to his unfinished experiment. His face droops at the sight—he missed the chemical change, meaning he’ll have to restart everything.

However, it’s fine. He saved you from being injured either way. Maybe it’s best to clean up the spill before anything else goes wrong with whoever.

“Then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You say and turn on your left foot to begin making your way to the door. Jake’s words aren’t that audible, but you’re able to make out a simple ‘see you too’ and that is all.

Sim Jake, the boy ghost of the science hallway, isn’t what others make him out to be. Although you misunderstood him and took his blunt stare for a rude response, a rude person wouldn’t risk their unathleticism to save someone over a mere (but possibly dangerous) spill, right? Of course not.

Yet, Sim Jake did.

Maybe he’s used to people mistaking him for a mean person. Maybe he’s truly a nice guy that nobody sees him for. It’s quite sad, if you’re being honest.

“Are you okay?” Minju asks, hands on your shoulders. The two of you are standing at your locker, one looking shocked, confused, and even worried, while the other looks as if their soul has been taken away.

It’s easy to guess who is who.

“I’m fine, Minju, really.” You reply and place your hands over hers. If she doesn’t stop now, surely the meal you had for lunch will be on display for everyone to see. Her shaking comes to a stop after the subtle taps from you are felt on her hands. She mutters a soft apology and lowers her hands in the process.

“Okay, but seriously, (Name). Did he do anything to you?” Questions Minju, worry lingering in her voice.

“The ghost or Sim Ja—” Minju is quick to cover your mouth with her hands, shushing you all at once. She begins looking around before lowering her hands a few moments later.

“Don’t say his name. But yes, I mean both. They’re the same person after all.” Minju says.

You playfully roll your eyes and shut your locker. “He didn’t do anything to me. He’s a nice guy.” Your words tend to shock Minju. Is it bad that he doesn’t live up to the rumors that everyone babbles about?

“What?” You question, narrowing your eyes at her shocked face.

“Did he brainwash you?”

“What? No. That's nonsense.” You rest your back against the lockers and turn your head to look at Minju. “I’m being serious, he’s a nice guy. The rumours about him aren’t true at all.” You sigh, then push yourself off the lockers.

The bell rings as you look at the clock diagonal from where you two stand. It’s the end of the day, meaning you’ll have to meet Jake in classroom 116 again.

“I have to go now.” You inform your friend. “Talk to you later, Ju.” You wave to her before leaving her behind and making your way to the science hall.

The same one you feared just a day ago. It’s stupid to think about. You really let the rumors get to your head. You wonder, does he even know of the rumors being said about him? You click open the classroom door with a turn of the knob, expecting to be greeted with complete darkness like yesterday, however, it’s bright. It makes you wonder even more, why was he working in the dark yesterday to begin with?

Jake’s gaze shifts from the beaker he holds up to the doorway where you stood. At first Jake is confused as to why you’re here. Why would anyone come visit him in the chemistry classroom? He’s pretty sure that everyone at Geddon Prep fears him. However, his unsaid question is answered when he’s reminded of yesterday’s incident. Your mechanical pencil.

His eyes light up at the realization and he places the beaker down on the lab bench, then makes his way to his backpack for your pencil. You walk over to the lab bench he works at, eyeing the setup as you close the distance between you and the area. The liquid in the beaker he previously held is a lime green with other solutions in test tubes organized on a rack.

“Here you go,” Jake says, turning around with your pencil in hand. Your head whips over at the sound of his voice and you’re greeted by the light pink mechanical pencil in his hold. Your favourite one at that.

“Thank you!” You cheer while taking it from him. The corners of his lips slightly perk up at your excitement as you bring your pencil closer to your eyes, gaining a whiff of a cologne. However, you ignore it as your excitement continues to grow. Who cares that his cologne managed to get onto your pencil and that it smells good? It’s the same exact one you previously used for sure. That’s all that matters to you.

Jake walks back to his station to continue the experiment from before while you shove your pencil into its special spot inside your pencil case. His attention is back onto the beaker he looked at before you came into the classroom as he makes mental notes of the sight and changes. You push your backpack aside and analyze the bench surface before taking a seat on top to make yourself comfortable.

In silence, you slightly tilt your head to the right as you watch Jake do his own thing. You’re wondering why he finds doing experiments instead of going home fun. It seems as though he’s here everyday—or at least, that’s what most of the rumors say.

However, even if you think you’re being discreet, Jake feels your gaze on him. It’s intense in his world. He’s not good with eye contact or even being paid attention to. You can say he’s quite the introvert in such cases. Embarrassment slowly pools in his stomach as he tries to ignore your gaze.

Spoiler alert—he fails.

“Is there something or someone behind me?” Jake gulps as he says those words, partially nervous because of the attention and whatever you’re looking at. You stifle a laugh at his response as his gaze shifts over to you.

With a small smile and a wave of your hand you reassure him. “I’m just wondering what you’re doing, that’s all.”

“Oh,” he says, even more embarrassed. “I’m just creating reactions and observing the outcomes.” You nod along to his words, taking in whatever he says.

“Do you do this everyday?” You ask and this time he nods.

“It’s like a source of alone time.” Jake says. “I like it.” A faint smile appears on his lips before disappearing immediately. It’s as if he couldn’t be caught doing such a thing.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Stop what?” Jake replies, his gaze still upon the beaker he experiments in.

“Smiling. It was for a mere second then it disappeared the moment I blinked.” You explain and he shrugs.

“I didn’t notice.” Says Jake as he walks over to the waste beaker, pouring in the current solution to create a new one.

“You should do it more often, it brightens your features.” You compliment while reaching over for your water bottle. Jake pauses for a moment, taking in your words. He doesn’t receive compliments often, wondering how he should reply. He doesn’t want to sound mean or as if he has a high ego, but he thinks a ‘thank you’ isn’t enough to show his gratitude. Is he overthinking this? Most likely.

Jake opens his mouth to say a simple thank you, however, before the words can come out, you’re already changing the topic.

“I forgot, you don’t know my name.” You say while placing your water bottle in your lap.

“Oh, right. What is it, if you don’t mind me asking?” He says with a bashful chuckle, internally beating himself up for taking too long. Now he seems so full of himself.

“It’s (Last Name) (Name).”

Your name suits you a lot is what he wants to say, yet here he is holding back. What if he makes you uncomfortable? You probably already think he’s weird from the way he ignored your compliment from earlier.

“I’m Sim Jake.” Jake says, forgetting his previous thoughts. It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s too late now.

“I figured.” He silently nods at your response. Right, the rumors. He’s very much aware of them and it’s obvious to him that there isn’t one person who doesn’t know about them.

“I saw your name tag the other day.” You add, hoping it’ll make him feel a little bit better if you don’t mention that you know of him because of the rumors. It’s not like you’re lying either, you only found out he is Sim Jake because of his name tag. Instead of relying, he shrugs it off and begins mixing another solution for a different experiment.

Clearly that didn’t work.

An awkward atmosphere falls over the two of you as you start swinging your legs back and forth from where you sit. You’re unsure of what to say now. You believe your additional response didn’t help him feel any better. Hell, it wouldn’t help you either if you were in his position.

You feel bad.

You sigh and place your hands back on the countertop. Distracted, you’re unaware of what sits near your finger—a scoopula. The sudden wince that leaves your mouth gains the boy’s attention as his head shoots up to see you holding your finger near your eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asks while placing the items down and making his way towards you. He scans your surroundings and your figure, noticing the scoopula that lays close to you. See, when you took a seat, you only checked for liquids, not tools.

The moment Jake reaches you, he’s gently taking your hand into his own and pushing his goggles up with his unoccupied ones. Your injury isn’t anything big, it’s a small cut into your index finger. However, it’s bleeding. A bandage is needed.

Jake mumbles a ‘hold on’ before rushing over to his backpack and searches a certain pocket for his collection of bandaids. Judging by the slit, a regular size shall do.

“Here,” he says while holding the bandage up before him and returning to his spot in front of you. Jake takes your hand once again, ushering you to get up from your seat on the counter.

“Rinse it first.” He instructs as you two walk over to the sink. The water is lukewarm as it flows down in a stream. Not too powerful to spray everywhere yet not too weak for nothing to come out.

His touch feels like a feather. It’s so faint, that you’d miss it if it wasn’t your main focus right now. Once there’s no sight of red, he turns off the faucet and grabs a napkin from beside the sink to pat your finger dry. The bandage needs a dry surface to stick onto, clearly this won’t do.

Jake peels off the bandage wrapper and its white backings before positioning it above the cut on your finger. He wraps it around your index finger and runs over it with his thumb, securing the seal.

“There,” he begins. “You need to be more careful and aware of your surroundings.” Jake scolds, looking up into your eyes. Crap. He shouldn’t have done that. He is quick to avert his eyes onto something behind you to calm himself down. He was too into the moment to even register how close you two were, making him even more flustered than he usually is over small eye contact and you still staring at him isn’t helping his case either.

“Keep it covered until it heals.” Jake says and gives you a reassuring pat on the back before leaving to work on his experiment once again. You notice how his eyes quickly shifted from on you to behind you, is there something about you he doesn’t like to look at? Why else would he do that?

“Thank you…” You mumble and hide your hands behind you. “I should get going, I need to study.” You grab your belongings and bid him a farewell before leaving (more like rushing) out of the classroom door. The moment he hears the it click shut, he crouches down with his head in his hands immediately.

His cheeks are warm against the palms of his hands as he tries to calm down. There’s no doubt about it, your eyes are truly captivating. The soft glint in them that Jake witnessed within the two second eye contact is something he can’t forget. It’s pretty much over for him, isn’t it?

He’s never felt this way—well, he’s never gotten a chance to feel this way. Jake always preferred to be alone since he was never the best at interacting with others ever since a young age. Even going to school wasn’t something he liked as a kid, he'd rather stay in bed and read articles about new scientists discoveries and so forth.

Anything but playing tag during recess.

Since that day, Jake found himself waiting for your next show. With you coming two days in a row, maybe you’ll come for a third just to keep him company, but that didn’t happen.

You didn’t show up for a third day, nor did you show up for a fourth or a fifth. It’s weird. Jake doesn’t know why he feels so down at the thought. He used to work in the classroom alone to hide from the many faces of people who were afraid of him because he refused to believe the rumors were true. Soon after, he grew to accept them and take the rumors for granted. This way nobody would bother his alone time.

That is until you came along. The day you appeared at the doorway of classroom 116, annoyance settled inside Jake’s body. He was in the middle of a tedious job before you startled him, causing him to clank his glasses together. One wrong move and everything would’ve been ruined.

The sound of the door shutting and a faint call of his name, gains his attention even if he couldn’t make out the view, but he knows someone is there. Probably the chemistry teacher, Mr. Lu?

No, it can’t be. It is definitely someone unfamiliar. He decides to ignore it and continue pouring the solution into the filled beaker, accidentally clinking the glasses together. Suddenly, files came crashing down onto the floor as if the colliding of the glasses pressed a button for it to happen.

He sighs and places his test tube back in its place and waits for something else to happen. Another possible distraction. The lights are suddenly turning on, causing him to flinch at the brightness. He only kept them off to focus on the glow of the beaker, clearly that is off the charts now.

Jake turns his head to look at the door, noticing a startled girl. She is focusing on one spot and one spot only—a notebook on a desk near him. With the way her eyes slightly light up, it’s obvious that it is hers. His brows furrows as he watches her take her next steps, then stop in front of the notebook.

Just a few more seconds and the classroom would be Jake’s once again, meaning he could continue his experiment, yet his future plans are forgotten as her voice fills his head. She is talking to herself.

And I’m the scary one? He thinks before he makes his way over to her. His eyes trail over her figure, taking note of the way she grips her wrist, stopping her from grabbing her notebook. What the hell is going on? Is this a prank students set up to get back at him for his reputation?

“Sim Jake,” she whispers, making him pause in his tracks. This has to be a prank. Why else would there be a female student talking to herself, tightly holding her wrist, and whispering his name so suddenly?

“What are you doing?” Jake asks, hoping this would speed things up. This wouldn’t be the first time Geddon Prep had tried something on him before.

“Please, let me go alive.” She pleads.

Her words leave Jake confused. What was she rambling about? Let her go alive? Why wouldn’t he in the first place? She keeps begging and apologizing, which obviously doesn’t help Jake’s confusion. He stays quiet for a brief moment before giving up on trying to put two and two together.

“What?” Jake questions as his brows meet each other in the middle. This is definitely an original experience.

He lets out a chuckle at the memory that plays in his head where you realize it was you holding onto your wrist all along. A smile even appears on his face as one word crosses his mind.

Cute.

His world pauses as his brows raise and he’s covering his mouth with his hand in utter shock. Did Jake just call you cute? Well, mentally, but still, he did. What spell did you cast on him for him to react in such a certain way? He’s never thought of such a thing in his life, this is all new to him. And yet, you are the cause of it all.

Sim Jake finds you, a girl he met coincidentally, cute? Does this explain why he’s been missing your presence lately or what?

He swallows hard as he puts everything together in his mind. Maybe it’s because this is the first time someone has ever given him such attention. Maybe everything he feels when he’s close to you isn’t what he really thinks it is.

It can’t be love, not at all, yet Jake still finds himself questioning if this is love. There’s no way one can fall for another within two days of interacting with each other (plus the additional two days he’s been thinking about you). However, it doesn’t make sense.

From what he knows, feelings take time to develop. So, why has his feelings developed way faster than what psychologists have proven them to? Does he really like you as a friend or as something more? Which one is it?

“Shoot!” You exclaim while searching your belongings. Jiung jumps at your sudden outburst, nearly dropping his cellphone.

Jiung adjusts his grip on his phone. “What was that for?” He asks, while giving you a weird look. Instead of replying to his question, you continue searching for whatever you lost.

The sight is hectic, startling Sunoo from the doorway. “What are you looking for?” Sunoo asks as he walks into the classroom. He looks over at Jiung after being met with complete silence, but to his dismay, the boy shrugs. He has no clue either.

Three seconds go by of them distracting themselves with Jiung’s phone until you stop your movements.

“I lost it.” Your words gain the attention of the two boys, causing their heads to perk up from Jiung’s phone screen.

“What did you lose?” Sunoo asks, hoping to receive a response this time. You look at him with a devastated look.

“My calculator.” You inform the boys.

“What if Minju took it during your last period yesterday? You have math together, no?” Says Jiung. Maybe he’s right. Quickly, you pull out your phone to send Minju a text, hoping she is the one holding onto your calculator.

You: Minju, did you accidentally take my calculator yesterday? I can’t find it.

Minju: No, but I’ll check my backpack. One second.

Minju: There’s nothing, sorry. Maybe you left it in the classroom? You should go check, I know Miss keeps lost things at her desk.

You: I will, thank you.

“Nothing,” you say with a hefty sigh. Honestly, the only thing special about that calculator is the fact it’s been in your family for over ten years now. It's almost as if it’s a family heirloom. You feel bad for losing it.

“I surely had it during my last period, however, I couldn’t find it during chemistry when I needed it. I swear I placed it in my backpack too.” You explain while clawing at your scalp, phone dangling from your fingers. The moment it slips through your loose grasp, Sunoo is quick to catch it before it can collide with the table beneath it.

“If you remember packing it into your backpack, what if you took it out during your first period and misplaced it during the whole lesson?” He questions.

“There’s no way I’d do something so stupid—Wait.” You pause, trying to recall your actions from this morning inside of your chemistry class.

“It’s there isn’t it?” Jiung voice pierces through your thoughts as you hesitate to answer his question. He takes your silence as a yes, and suggests you go there during lunch. It’s a smart plan. You can get your calculator before math too.

“Okay, I will.” You say and take your seat feeling better than before— morerelaxed.

To be honest, when it is time for you to go to classroom 116 during lunch, part of you is hoping that Jake is in there whipping up whatever potions he planned on experimenting today. You haven’t been to your chemistry classroom after school ever since Jake placed the bandage on your finger.

As you make your way down the hallway, you look at your healed finger in silence. Your face begins to heat up at the memory of his hand holding yours as he examined your injury and ran your finger under the running faucet. He was so close that day, hopefully he couldn’t hear your beating heart. If it was loud in your ears, you could only wonder how it was for him.

You try to calm yourself down before entering the classroom. Although you’re 99.9% sure Jake will be nowhere in this room, that 0.1% in you still has some faith in him showing up.

It’s only the start of lunch, yet your teacher is nowhere to be found, but luckily the door is left unlocked. You enter the classroom and look around the space, for your calculator of course. But you can’t help the way your gaze flickers to the lab benches, hoping you’d catch Jake in the middle of one of his experiments. Unfortunately, he’s nowhere to be found.

You’re the only one in the classroom with your calculator resting on top of your desk. Deja vu washes over you as you make your way to your seat, this time not scared like before. Instead, you’re disappointed at the fact Jake is nowhere in sight.

You sigh while grabbing your calculator off your desk and make your way to the door. The moment your hand touches the doorknob, footsteps sound from further away.

“(Name)?”

Quickly, you turn around at the sound of a familiar voice, and to your satisfaction, you’re met with a face you’ve been waiting to see—Sim Jake.

“Jake,” you call from under your breath. Your attention shifts over to the door swinging back and forth behind him. Oh, he was grabbing a lab coat.

“How have you been? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” You say while walking to the lab benches faster than you intend to. Is it that obvious you’re happy to see him?

“It’s been a while because you haven’t come to the classroom after school.” Jake says. “Other than that, I’ve been okay, you?” He proceeds to put on his gloves and adjust them to his liking as a scowl appears on your face.

“I didn’t know if it was okay for me to continue coming here even if I had nothing to pick up.” You explain and he chuckles, a smile plastered on his features. Your heart begins to race at the sight, this time, he doesn’t immediately stop smiling like before. He lets it linger until it falters on its own.

“It’s not like you can’t come here. Do as you may.”

You take a seat on the countertop, this time closely investigating anything that could harm you before doing so. A liquid, a tool, anything at all. “Is it not bothersome to you? I feel like I’ll only be a distraction to you.” You say.

“Of course not. I like your presence and talking to you, it’s nice.” Jake puts his goggles on as you swallow thickly. He can’t say something like that so easily, it’s not fair to your heart. Your grasp on the lab bench slightly tightens as you fight away the butterflies that begin to settle in your stomach.

“So, does Mr. Lu allow you to do this often?” You ask, in an attempt to change the topic. If it were to last any longer, you surely wouldn’t.

“Yeah, I’ve managed to build up trust with him over the last few years. Here and there I spend my lunch here, but I’m mostly here everyday after school.” Jake explains while grabbing the equipment he needs for today’s experiment.

You hum in response to his words and nod. Maybe he’s the one Mr. Lu referred to many times in his past lessons—a student who conducts a ton of experiments whenever he can. It sounds like Jake, so it has to be him.

“Hey,” you call, gaining his attention.

“What’s up?” Jake replies.

This has been on your mind for quite a while now. However, what if your question ruins the nice bonding moment between the two of you? There’s no going back if it does.

“You know, the rumors, how do you feel about them?”

Jake tenses for a short moment before continuing his previous movements in preparation for his experiment. Instead of wording a response, he shrugs.

“I don’t know.” Jake sighs. “They don’t bother me as much as they did before, but I just don’t get them. That’s it.”

He carefully places the tools down on top of the lab bench beside where you are sitting as you listen to what he has to say.

“The only good part about them is the fact people leave me alone.” He adds on.

“That’s it.” Jake looks up at you who looked at him, too caught up in the moment to even realize his eyes on you. Once realization hits you, you’re clearing your throat and looking away, all while trying to suppress any flustered feelings that crawled its way up your neck.

“What about you? Is there anything at school that bothers you?” Jake questions. He doesn’t want everything to be about him. Especially if they’re about the rumors.

“Not really.” You answer and thumb at the brim of the countertop, grip loosening in the process. Jake figured you were going to say something along those lines. It’s not that he is judging you, he just thought there’s not much that can bother you in Geddon Prep. However, he can’t assume that either.

“Jake,” you call, interrupting his thoughts. He looks over at you, waiting for you to continue on with your sentence.

“You’re nothing like the rumors. You’re very nice and funny even if you don’t try to be. You’re a great guy, seriously.” You compliment him, making it hard for him to remain calm. Once again, Jake sucks at taking compliments. So, in response to your words, he turns away, facing the opposite way from you to hide his soon-to-be blushing expression.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, gaining your attention. Your head turns to face him, taking note of how he faces a different way. However, you don’t miss the way the tips of his ears turn a subtle shade of red as he speaks. You bite back a smile at this. It’s cute to see him flustered. With the way you’re reacting at this sight and when he gazes at you, there’s no doubt about it. You have surely developed feelings for the boy beside you.

The next day and many days after that, you continue to appear in classroom 116 after school and sometimes during lunch. You and Jake only become closer and closer, sharing many long chats with one another and funny moments.

You genuinely don’t know how someone can find Jake scary. He reminds you of a clumsy puppy with how unathletic he is. He’s really smart too, here and there he helps you with your chemistry homework and teaches you lessons you don’t understand. Fortunately, it only makes you fall for him more.

As for Jake, he’s still conflicted. Although he’s leaning further towards the love side of his dilemma, he doesn’t know if what he thinks is right. You two are obviously friends now which seems like enough for Jake, but he can’t help and get flustered whenever you two are in close contact, you compliment him, or if you two make eye contact. Sometimes when you don’t see each other, he thinks of you (and even misses you). He’s 99% sure friends don’t think this way.

However, other times, for example, right now, those thoughts don’t matter because right now, all he’s feeling is worry and stress. Regret is settling in his system. Why did he agree to do such a thing even with knowing the many possible consequences for his choices?

“Don’t! Touch that.” Jake exclaims, making you halt your movements for the nth time.

“Jake, at this point, what can I even do?” You say with a sigh and back away from the set up.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just worried you’re going to get hurt or break something. We both know how clumsy you can be.” Says Jake. His words aren’t an insult, yet you can’t help but feel slightly offended by them.

You remove your goggles and roll your eyes at his words, you hate the fact that he isn’t wrong. Who knows what ruckus you’ll cause? You can’t blame him for his thoughts. You don’t know what you’ll do either.

“Fine, you have a point.” You frown and begin walking over to your designated spot on the lab bench. “I’ll just sit down and keep you company.”

So much for finally getting to help him with one of his experiments.

“Okay. That works too.” He sighs of relief and reorganizes his station to his liking. He tried teaching you what to do, really, he did, but he feared that you’d get injured immediately and only moved cautiously. With how badly you let your guard down in the past, he doesn’t know what will happen when you’re handling the chemicals yourself.

To keep yourself occupied, you reach into your backpack to find the book your teacher assigned to your English class. It’s for your novel study unit—the worst unit in English. You hate it every year because of the many questionnaires and assignments that come along with it.

As Jake starts pouring the chemical you previously tried handling, he sneaks a glance at you, noticing the book that rests in your lap.

“What’s that?” He asks while proceeding with his experiment as usual.

“Just a book for my English class.” You inform and flip to the last page you read—page fourteen. That isn’t even close to a dent for a 700-page book. Surely, you're in for a hefty ride.

Jake hums and lets silence fall over the two of you so you can focus. Here and there, he sneaks even more glances at you, noticing the way your expression softens the further you progress through the pages. You look relaxed. A sight that makes Jake’s heart go pit-a-pat (his words).

He notices the way your brows knit occasionally at some scenes, wondering what you are thinking of when you read the book. You look so focused, it actually makes him smile. Is he creepy for reacting this way? Is this what true feelings are like? Is this really what confirms his feelings for you?

If he saw anyone else make such a face, he wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t even bat an eye at them to begin with, but with you, it’s different. Everything you do and say makes him feel some type of way. He smiles, he laughs, he hides his face the moment you leave the classroom, and fights back the warmth that settles on his cheeks and ears. No ordinary human being does this for someone they don’t feel anything for. It will seem weird if they do. If so, it’s true. Although you’re someone that keeps him on his tippy-toes whenever you’re around, he can’t deny the truth. Jake does indeed like you

Even if he reached a conclusion with his own feelings, the real question is, do you like him back or are you only toying with him? He really hopes it’s the first option and not the second one. Still, he’s unable to say since it’s his first time experiencing such a thing.

“Is there something or someone behind me?” You ask, teasing him with the words he said to you the second day you two met. His brows raise at the realization, he’s been staring at you for quite a while now. To the point where he even paused his experiment.

What started off as short stolen and somewhat sneaky glances, became pure admiration. Embarrassed, he looks back at his beaker and pours whatever solution that is in his hand to make it seem as though he was busy all along. However his plan fails. Miserably.

The sudden pop and cloud of smoke that emits from the beaker shocks you both as Jake’s hair blows back from the commotion.

“Great,” he says under his breath after realizing what two chemicals he mixed with one another. It’s a silly rookie mistake; one that even you would make if he wasn’t in the lab with you.

You let out a laugh from your spot on the countertop as he sends a glare your way. He’s embarrassed enough. Why’d he have to mess up in front of you at such a time?

“Sorry, sorry. Don’t worry, you look good.” You say and point at the way his hair is all over the place. In haste, he turns away before you can see the change of his expression, and adjusting his hair with his reflection on the window behind him. The way his cheeks become a rosy pink, doesn’t fail to surprise him. Clearly your words are able to make him feel this way.

He definitely likes you.

You drop down from where you previously sat and make your way to Jake. You turn him around with a tap on his arm, then begin to adjust his hair for him. He’s staring at you like a deer caught in headlights, cheeks still a faint rosy pink, and ears appearing the same.

Your eyes are focused on his hair while his eyes are, well, everywhere: your face, your eyes, your lips, your eyes… Your lips. Mainly your eyes, at least, that’s what he likes to believe.

“There.” You say and avert your gaze to his face, to see how everything looks together. Instead, you notice how his eyes are lower than where they should be. They’re on your lips. Who would’ve thought. Jake’s gaze shifts back to your eyes as if nothing had happened, but the act is hard for him to keep up with the way your eyes don’t leave his.

Jake begins removing his goggles. He hesitates for a brief moment, not wanting to ruin the moment with a question, but his beating heart that rings through his ears silences any negative thoughts he has.

“Can I kiss you?” He questions. Jake never thought he’d utter such words at this point of his life. He’s slightly starting to regret it because of your silence until you nod in response to his question, wasting no time to put your lips onto his.

“Talk.”

The slam of Minju’s hands against your desk startles you out of your trance.

“This is your seventh time spacing out, (Name).” Sunoo says and takes a look at his phone. “It’s only been one minute.” Your jaw drops at his words. There’s no way it has happened that many times within such a short period.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Jiung questions while taking a bite of his lunch.

Right now it’s lunch time. See, normally you’d be with Jake in classroom 116, but after yesterday’s incident which you clearly initiated and he only returned, you couldn’t bring yourself to face him.

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” What a lie.

“That’s like me saying Jiung isn’t a phone addict.” Minju insults the boy and takes a bite of her meal. He nudges her in the shoulder and she rolls her eyes.

She isn’t wrong though, he truly is a phone addict.

“Fine,” you begin. “I have a secret—more so a confession to make.” Your friends are way more invested than they should be. It’s almost as if this is your first time ever having a crush.

“I like someone.”

“Knew it,” Sunoo says while holding his hand out to Jiung who devastatingly hands him five bucks. You raise a brow at their trade off, waiting for one of them to explain what is going on.

“We made a bet. Sunoo thought you were acting this way because you like someone, while I thought you were this way because of school.” Jiung explains with a sigh. You don’t blame his devastated state, he is now five dollars broke.

“Who is it?” Minju asks, ignoring the boys beside her.

“Who is it, you ask?” You let out a nervous laugh. How are you supposed to say that you like (and kissed) Sim Jake to these lunatics?

“Is it Jake?” Minju asks, startling you and your other friends. How did she read right through you that easily? Jiung is quick to exclaim a ‘what’ as Sunoo stops drinking his water midway.

“Sorry? Did we miss a chapter?” Sunoo questions.

“I swear he’s not as bad as you guys make him out to be. He’s very sweet, helps me with my work when I don’t get something, and makes sure I don’t get injured. You know how clumsy I am.

And we kissed. For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to say it. You’re not sure how they’ll react to such information.

“Wait,” Jiung says. “Maybe he isn’t so bad. You don’t lie, right (Name)?” He questions and you nod in response.

“Hey, I kinda like him.” He adds on.

“Are you trying to get on her good side for more snacks right now?” Sunoo asks while flicking Jiung in the forehead. The boy winces and starts rubbing at the reddening spot.

You look at your food and bite your bottom lip. You want to tell them, you really do, but you’re nervous. On the other hand, Minju is paying attention to your every movement. She knows there’s something else that’s up with you, but maybe she’ll ask later.

Later being now.

You throw out your garbage as footsteps approach from behind you, startling you once they come to a stop.

“(Name).” Minju says as your hand rests at your chest.

“You gotta stop doing that.” You say. Seriously, one day you’ll have a heart attack because of her. She ignores your words and gets straight to the point. “There’s something else that happened between you and Jake, isn’t there?”

How does she know?

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to keep your composure.

“You know what I mean.” Minju replies, not having it with your lie.

You hesitate and look at Minju with anticipation. “Fine,” you begin. “We kissed.” You admit with a sigh. She’s shocked but isn’t at the same time. It’s almost like she saw it coming.

“And then?” She asks.

“Then I left?” You say, unsure of what she was hinting at.

“No confession, nothing?” She’s in disbelief.

“No…” You say. A word she didn’t want to hear. Minju sighs in disappointment and rubs her temples. You kiss a boy and leave right after. What type of middle school relationship is she hearing about?

“(Name), you like him, yes?”

You nod at her words hoping that whatever she says next isn’t a bad thing.

“And you two kissed, yes?”

“Yes.”

“So, confess.” Minju says and you shake your head.

Is she insane? Why would you ever decide to do that? Yeah, you two kissed and whatnot, but there’s no way you’re going to embarrass yourself with a sappy confession just to get rejected.

Well.

That’s what you thought.

The last school bell rang five minutes ago. Minju just left you in front of your chemistry classroom where you meet Jake everyday at this exact time. It all happened too fast for you to understand what was going on, but clearly, she isn’t letting you go without a confession.

You brace yourself for the awkward atmosphere that’s about to attack you the moment you walk through this door. You’re not ready. What if you and Jake stop being whatever this is? What if your confession ruins it all?

You want to go home.

You let out a sigh and walk through the door, catching a glimpse of what seems to be a blur. It's silent in the classroom, almost as if Jake isn’t here at all.

When in reality, he is. He’s crouching down underneath a lab bench to avoid you. His face is beet red as the moment from yesterday’s lunch replays in his head. This has been happening all day. It’s vividly playing too. He can’t escape any single detail of it.

Jake starts patting his face as he hears your footsteps pick up again, hoping he can recollect himself before he meets your face. The thought of you isn’t helping his case one bit. Even trying to think of anything science-like doesn’t help him either.

“Jake?” Your voice is close. Too close. He covers his face and looks in the direction it came from, peeking through the slit of his fingers. You seem worried. Why would you be worried?

“Hey.” Jake greets softly. He’s mentally cursing at himself for his lack of volume. He’s such an idiot.

“…Are you okay?” You question and Jake is quick to blurt out a yes before rising up into his standing position. You’re taken aback by the sudden change in vocal ranges as Jake apologizes for the sudden shout.

Silence falls over you two as your fingertips tap on the countertop, preparing yourself to ask your question. This is harder than you thought it would be.

“Can we talk?”

“Yes please.” Jake replies. He can’t remain like this any longer. It’s best to sort everything out now rather than later.

“About yesterday’s, you know, kiss.” You start. “What’s your take on it?”

You patiently wait for Jake’s response. You’re not sure what he’s going to say. Is he disgusted by it? Did he like it? Does he like you? Does he hate you?

“It was nice.” Jake says, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he held onto.

“Same for me.” You reply, nodding in agreement.

Silence.

This conversation isn’t going anywhere. You want to get straight to the point, but you’re unsure about how. Isn’t it too sudden to say the three words you want to? What if he reacts in a way you don’t want him to react? There’s too many what if’s and your mind can’t take it anymore.

“(Name).” Jake calls, bringing you back to reality. Your brows perk up at his call, gaining your attention instantly.

His bottom lip gets caught under his teeth as he hesitates. “I like you.” Jake confesses, catching you off guard. “Like a lot. I went back and forth trying to figure out what I think about you, but I figured it out after so long.” He continues.

“You’re pretty—gorgeous even. You’re very kind and funny. You’re the first person to make me feel this way and even give me such attention that I don’t deserve.”

“I like you a lot.” He repeats.

You feel your neck warm up as you process everything he said. He likes you? Sim Jake, your crush, likes you back?

“Me too.” You say, vaguely.

“I like you too. I just wasn’t sure how to say it. I didn’t want it to seem too abrupt and make you feel uncomfortable.” You add on to your previous words.

“Yesterday’s kiss, I meant it. Your gentle touches never fail to make me feel flustered, you’re so smart it’s very impressive. The way you look when you get flustered is awfully cute too.”

“It’s one of my favourite things about you. Your smile too. I love your smile.” You finish off as Jake looks away. With the way his ears turn a bright red like always, you’re not able to miss it anymore. It reminds you of the red lipstick Minju always boasts about ever since she bought it a month ago.

You grin at the sight and give him a hug which forces him to look back at you, even more flustered than before.

“You’re very warm.” You say, words slightly muffled by his chest.

“Well, I wonder why.” He replies in a sarcastic tone.

A comforting silence washes over you both, however, it only lasts a few seconds before Jake decides to ruin it with the worst way possible.

“What do you say, we make a covalent bond?” He jokes, gaining a punch from you on his arm. You wish you could go back five seconds before he said those words.

You grimace. “Get out, that was terrible.” Jake laughs and slightly backs away from the hug to see your face.

“Okay, okay.” He starts as his laughter dies down. “Then,” Jake pauses and you tilt your head, wondering what he’s going to say next.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Jake asks and you nuzzle your face back into his chest to hide your smile and nod. Of course you will.

“Great.” Says Jake with a smile. He places a soft kiss onto the crown of your head, resting there for a moment.

Perhaps, Jake camping out in classroom 116 like there was no tomorrow happened to be for the better good.

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