SAVED ☆ Bang Chan [COMPLETED]

2

Trudging in through the school gates the next day, I hoist my backpack higher onto my shoulder and ignore the clusters of people laughing amongst themselves. No point in dwelling over something I'll never get to experience. Instead I wince as the scarred tissue of my forearm groans in protest, and I sigh, loathing myself for causing myself even more misery. I can’t spot Leah anywhere so I walk up the steps alone, making my way to my form room.

My heavy combat boots thud on the shining floor of the corridors, the key chains on my backpack jangling as I walk down. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice a tall figure in front of me and I slam my face into it, stumbling before hands clasp around my back, stopping me from falling.

“Woah,” A soft voice sounds and I look up into the face of one of Chan’s popular friends. His brown eyes are a shade darker than dark chocolate, I realise, as they look down into mine. The tiniest of moles is dotted delicately under an eye, giving him the aura of an intricately carved marble statue and I feel my throat go dry, the words catching in my mouth. Ah. This is why they call him the Prince of the school. Prince Hwang Hyunjin.

He places me gently back onto my feet with a comforting smile that eases my nerves and I resist the urge to giggle right in his face - this is embarrassing. In the span of two days, two of the most influential students in the school have witnessed me stumbling over what I like to call my pair of two left feet. But I shoot a sheepish, grateful smile back at him, something I usually never would have done, but I find that I can't help it. Must be his princely powers at play or something.

“Aw you’re pretty when you smile,” he comments, catching me off guard. “You should do it more often.”

I stammer, at a loss for words. That is, until he leans forward, expression suddenly changing. “Wait, you are Y/N, right? I haven't mistaken you for someone else?”

I nod, confused as to how he knows who I am. His eyes crinkle as he gives me a huge smile. “I’m Hyunjin! But you probably know that already, right? Everyone knows me.”

“Yes. But how do you know who I am?” I manage to ask him, fiddling with the zips of my leather jacket. Hyunjin scratches the back of his head, momentarily blushing.

“I really like your drawings - the ones that are displayed in the hall. They’re amazing! I was just too shy to tell you that before.”

My mouth drops open. Hwang Hyunjin, the school’s Prince, likes my drawings. My drawings. Please. This better not be a prank.

"Really? Thank you. I didn’t know people even noticed them, let alone liked them,” I reply, trying to ignore the pounding in my chest. The phsycial phenomenon that usually occurs when anyone other than Leah decides to talk to me.

Hyunjin looks shocked. “Are you kidding? Literally everyone I know likes your art. You know Seo Changbin? Muscular, grumpy looking, short dude? The other day he was saying that he wanted to ask you to draw something on his arm, like a tattoo.”

“He said what? Are you sure you’re not just pulling my leg?” I ask, eyebrow raised. This can not be real. Not to mention the strangely specific description of his friend. My lips twitch with mirth.

“I’m one hundred percent telling the truth. Would you do it? I'm sure he'll be over the moon. Well ... if he wasn't so short."

Flustered, I agree. “Sure. I’ll do it, if that’s what he wants.”

Hyunjin flashes his happy smile at me again. “Great! Thanks, Y/N! I -” a loud yell cuts his sentence off and he whirls around to see an impatient looking Han Jisung standing in the corner, arms folded over a bright orange jumper with a squirrel in the middle.

“Hyunjin! Get over here you idiot, we’re all waiting!” Jisung turns his gaze on me and waves, much to my surprise. “Hi Y/N! I don’t think we’ve ever spoken before but hi! I’m Jisung.”

I wave back timidly, watching as Hyunjin walks off towards his friend. Before entering his classroom he looks back at me and winks. I flush and turn away, walking towards my classroom.

What the hell was that? I swear, that was enough manly human interaction to last me the next year.

As usual, the classroom I make my way to is devoid of people due to it being so early. I head to my desk right at the back of the classroom and clunsily slide into my seat, closing my eyes for a while as I try to gather my breath.

I'm grateful for the darkness that sweeps over the room like a soft blanket; the blinds haven't been opened yet, and outside the wintery sky is still a dusty shade of indigo, the watery outline of a faded moon doing its best to provide feeble illumination to the world below. It’s peaceful, the sort of mysterious peace that occurs when it seems as though time has stopped and it's just me in an empty world.

My favourite moments, really. The moments where I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not.

My eyes open as the creaking of the door catches my attention and I spot an anxious looking Chan poking his head around the door, eyes sweeping over the classroom. He casts a quick glance over his shoulder before scurrying inside, jogging to his desk which is beside mine. Once he sits down he bangs his head onto the table and stays like that, whispering “safe” under his breath.

Confused, but not wanting to pry, I turn to my sketchbook and begin drawing. This time I’m drawing a girl stood on a roof, hair billowing on the wind, scraped knees giving her a careless, 'I don't care what happens to me' vibe.

“What are you drawing?” A voice snaps me out of my zone and I jump, my pen nearly ripping a hole in the page. I look over to see Chan’s warm eyes focused on my paper, looking genuinely curious. “Oh wait, that’s you! Wow, you’re amazing at drawing.”

I shake my head. “That’s not me. It’s just a random person,” I reply, looking down at the page. Oh … I can see why he thinks that’s me. We do seem to be dressed in the same outfit consisting of leather jackets and ripped jeans and heavy, soul crushing boots. The best boots, really. Comfortable, but can also be used as weapons if needed.

I grin awkwardly. “Well, it wasn’t supposed to be me. I guess I accidentally made it happen.”

He studies my face with an unreadable expression, before flitting his gaze back to my drawing, nodding towards it. “And why are you stood on the roof?”

“No particular reason,” I answer, voice going quieter, “It just looks better than standing on flat ground.”

When he doesn’t reply, I speak again. “Thanks for yesterday, by the way.”

“Yesterday?” He asks, looking up from his novel. “Oh. Yeah no worries. It’s not very nice of people to laugh at you when you fall or do something clumsy. You probably can’t help it right?”

“I can’t. It’s like I see something on the floor and my brain registers it as something that needs to be tripped over instead of walking around it,” I ramble, abruptly coming to a stop as I realise he probably doesn’t care about my clumsy habits.

To my surprise, Chan starts chuckling. Small dimples deepen in his soft looking cheeks as a huge grin spreads across his face, eyes crinkling. It completely transforms his slightly intimidating face into something soft and full of childish vulnerability.

I feel heat rising to my cheeks, and I bite my lips to clear the thudding in my chest. “Why are you laughing?”

He smiles. “I don’t know. You just sounded adorable.”

I furiously blush, sure that I'll go into cardiac arrest if he keeps talking to me in such a friendly manner. “I do not. I sound like an idiot tripping over her words,” I reply, “see? I’m so clumsy I even trip over words.” Oh my God shut up.

Chan begins spluttering with bubbly laugher again just as the rest of our classmates walk in the room, followed by the teacher. The boy scribbles something on a piece of paper and slides it onto my desk before going back to reading his book.

I pick the piece of paper up. On it, in scrawling handwriting, is Chan’s name followed by a phone number. He's even added a smiley face at the end, the smile crooked but incredibly adorable nonetheless.