Chapter Text
CHRISTOPHER BANG CHAN did not expect him throwing his spaghetti with runny sauce at the kid who called him a faggot to land him right outside the principal's office.
Now, the short haired brunette had gone all his years of school (except first grade, but he doesn't count that) without getting in any sort of trouble. He merrily strolled through the hallways without any teachers blinking an eye during class changes, unsuspected of any sort of trouble he could cause.
A model student, Mr. Bang Chan was considered.
But, when idiot asshole Kim Hwanil called him over to his table today, saying, "Hey! Faggot Chan, come here for a second," Chan snapped.
Literally.
Chan could feel his eye twitch, his jaw clench, and his hands tremble as he walk towards the table, and skillfully flipped his plate over so the container holding the spaghetti landed right on Hwanil's light brown pants that were part of the school's uniform. He smirked at the traumatized and embarrassed man who had called him a slur, but the interaction quickly escalated to Chan getting punched in the gut.
And then, if Chan had already not done enough, he wrapped his arm around the bullies throat and threw him to the ground, quickly pulling back and rolling shoulders, all before he spit out, "fuckin' bitch. Don't think to fuck with me no more."
Now he was anxiously waiting outside the principal's office, his leg bobbing up and down, and him keeping his eyes glued to the floor.
He could see the stupid, because of the color combination with the school uniform, but somehow cute, yellow converse sat beside him, and the only time Chan decided to look up, he made unexpected and nerve-wracking eye contact with a cute freckled blonde with a mullet.
Chan felt his eyes widen and he quickly turned away, not wanting to embarrass himself more. He didn't want another bad opinion about him, especially after all the hell his mother's gonna raise.
Chan could see it now. The quite young woman, to have an eighteen year old at least, only a wise forty years old, bursting into the principal's office, screaming to the top of her lungs: "My God, Christopher, you're already gay! You already had us shunned from church, are you trying to make me look bad in front of your school?"
Yeah, he wasn't looking forward to it.
Going back to his embarrassing eye contact with the cute boy beside him, Chan was able to catch a glimpse of the other six young men in the waiting area.
He knew two of them from his music production class, and he seen a third one around school, but the other four, including freckles, he'd never seen a day in his life.
One of the boys from his production class had a small, muscular build, and a nice face that was only flawed by a busted lip. The other boy had fluffy hair and chubby cheeks, kind of like a squirrel, and he nervously looked around, and was picking off what looked like a failed science experiment from his shirt.
The kid he'd seen around school had plump lips, long messy hair, and looked annoyed. He looked like he was interrupted from a heated make out session. He was also obnoxiously chewing green gum.
Freckles, the oh-so cute freckles, was patiently waiting beside Chan, but he looked deep in thought. The kid on the other side of freckles had thin eyes, and a mischievous grin on his face, with pin straight hair falling into his eyes.
The boy beside busted lip had a leg propped up with his elbow resting on his knee, but he suddenly put it down and seemed to curl into himself. He looked similar to a cat, and he adorned a rather pointy nose. He also continuously rubbed a hand over his upper thigh, like he was scared of something showing.
And the last boy sat beside the mischievous kid. He had just gotten out of the principal's office. He looked super annoyed, ready to cuss out the first person who looked at him sideways. He was also chewing gum, and was blowing a bubble every two minutes. From the way he held himself, Chan could tell he was a baseball player.
The door of the principal's office opened, and the woman herself called, "Bang Chan?"
Chan sighed and pinched in between his eyes. "Coming."
-
The principal's office was rather homely. She didn't have any pictures on the walls, only her degree in education and a couple of awards she'd won in the past. The floors were a dark oak, making the clacking of her heels obnoxiously loud. Her desk was a lighter oak, and held two monitors on it, as well as a binder, planner, and a framed photo that was turned around so he couldn't see the picture. The window had velvet emerald green curtains that were drawn open, and Chan could see the bright blue sky of midday.
The woman herself, Mrs. Bae Joohyun, was an small woman, wearing a pencil skirt and blazer, and her hair was pulled up in a measly clip Chan was sure came undone multiple times already.
She sat down behind her desk before gesturing for Chan to take his own seat in one of the medium sized black leather chairs that looked like they would make his ass hurt if he sat there too long.
Following her unspoken orders, Chan sat uncomfortably straight up in his chair, and could feel his left leg bounce uncontrollably.
"I'm sure you know why you've been brought into my office today, Mr. Bang." The principal started, ominously, not helping Chan's nerves whatsoever.
Chan took in a sharp breath, "yes ma'am."
"Can you perhaps," she made an odd gesture with her hands, one someone would make if they wanted you to keep speaking, but then throwing their hands up, but not their full arms. "Explain what happened?"
"Yes, uh, not to name names or anything, but Kim Hwanil has been using profane language towards me, and has purposely ran into me in the halls, thrown things at me, and has even elbowed me on purpose the last three weeks," Chan started, but the memory of the event had riled him up, allowing his heavy accent and slurred speech to come out. "And then he decided to call a faggot at lunch today so I threw my food on his pants and threw 'em on the ground after he punched me in the gut."
"And?" Mrs. Bae urged.
"I also called him a 'fuckin' bitch'."
"That's all?" Mrs. Bae asked.
"Yes ma'am." Chan confirmed.
The principal rubbed in between her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. She then clicked a few things on her computer, and let out an empty laugh.
"Okay, so, I'm going to give you a way out of expulsion and detention, but I need you to sign this, okay?" Mrs. Bae said, sliding over a paper with a pen. Chan's eyebrows raised in confusion. The principal explained further, "it's a form that only you have to sign. Earlier in the year we sent home a form asking if it was okay for the school to ask you to sign things, for things like new programs, so we could do this. No need to worry, your parents won't know about this."
"Yes ma'am." Chan said, still a little confused about the situation. He skimmed over the paper, not really reading anything but looking for keywords and where to sign because, if he were honest, he really didn't care what he could get himself into if it meant less trouble with his mother. He then signed the supposed consent form, and then slid it back over to the principal.
"Thank you," she said. Chan stood up from his chair, and made his way towards the exit without evening thinking about having to be dismissed.
But suddenly, the principal continued her words quickly before Chan could make it out the door. "And, Mr. Bang, don't let this happen again. You have a spectacular record. I understand your anger, trust me," she flipped around the framed photo, it surprisingly being a photo of her wedding pictures, her wedding picture with her and her bride, "but please just come to me next time."
Chan held a small smile on his face, and quickly nodded, "yes ma'am."