school students, obviosly

      "I'll pick you daisies from all fields"        That's what Minho said before climbing into the school flowerbed while everyone was cleaning the pool and pulling out eleven stalks of white dandelions, half of which had been blown away by the wind.          — These are dandelions.        — Everyone has their flaws, — Lee sits on the hot curb, rolling up his school pants and examining the bleeding wound on his knee.         Han leaves dandelions on a stone ledge where deep pink flowers grow, takes a couple of slow steps in frayed red converses and sits down opposite a guy with disheveled brown hair that shimmers in the sun.          — At least look under your feet, — Son leaves his hand close to the wound and doesn't move.          The rays are warm in the back, while a chill passes through bare feet. The screams of children in the distance mingle with the rustling leaves of the trees above.          — I know it myself, — drooping, he looks to the side at the pebbles that are scattered along the road.          At the end of the alley there is an exit to the garden beds of the school and somewhere deep into the courtyard dotted with cherry petals. Taking a deep breath, Jisung wraps his arms around both of his legs and bows his head towards them, tickling his fluffy hair.        — I’m tired, — he hugs his shins tightly, burrowing into them, and slowly inhales the warm silence. Han's life is full of fun slides. They especially became like that when it came to this tomboy with bruised elbows and strange stars in his eyes.        — Want Cola? — Minho carefully removes falling locks from someone else's face, afraid to accidentally frighten the animal off his knees, which turned his head to the side.        — Uh-huh, — he rubs his cheek against his leg. — Shall we go for some patches?        — We can go to the first-aid post, — notices the reddened forehead and cute bags under the eyes in front of him, — there are beds.          Closing his eyes, Jisung frowned and rested his chin between his knees. Well, yes, why go far when you can lie down on Minho?          — Okay, — he came off and, while Lee had already managed to get up next to him, he laced up his sneakers. — Then PE? — stands up and dusts off his pants from behind.        — I wanted to leave, — Minho doesn’t even have time to take a step, when Han's eyes glare at him angrily.        — And made me lonely? — Jisung sulks and doesn't seem to notice the outstretched hand.        — Anyway it's the last lesson, — he comes closer to Han and touches his palms with cold fingers. — But they will look for us anyway, so I’ll stay, — he sees the fluff’s anxiety and takes him by the hand. — Come on, it's pretty hot up here.          The chirping of birds interrupted his own thoughts, and the day didn't end. Everything around wakes up, despite the past frosts. The guys walked to the entrance of the school and didn't even think to move away from each other.  

♡

         — Why do you think chickens don't fly?        — They're too lazy, — Minho answered without looking up from the phone.          In response, only a barely intelligible lowing of Jisung into the pillow.        Minho is already used to questions like this that just come out of nowhere. Previously, although Jisung tried to encrypt his sincerity and himself, now it turns out much worse. Especially when he found the one who admires and loves it the most in him. Walking happiness was so close to him, and he noticed it so late. A lot of wasted time, it seems. But this time this has led him to the most unexpected outcome that can only be.        Right now he just wants to sleep and katsudon. And also listen to this pleasant voice next to him.         — And if you weren’t engaged in dancing, what circle would you go to? — Han stands up, looking at his classmate sprawled across from him.        — Shooting, maybe, — he threw the phone aside, realizing that Jisung was now more interested in talking than in sleeping. — Or drawing.        — Drawing would suit you, — in one of the spacious classrooms, sitting hunched over at the easel, Lee Minho draws anime and dreams of becoming a famous illustrator. Perfect.        — But even now, dancing is quite hard, — he has been doing this for most of his life and wants to do it. But the eternal encounter in conflicts, fights and ass situations sometimes remind of themselves. Perhaps he, of course, is a professional athlete, football player, swimmer and future astronaut.          Footsteps in the corridor are heard very rarely. The nurse seems to have gone to the director to discuss something. Outside the window, other class is running, managing to shout loudly at each other. And white clouds float across the sky. The curtain that separated the couches was pulled back and now it is their corner for two. A small world with imaginary holographic projections and a planetarium.          — Shall we go to the game room at the weekend? — cheeks flattened, and hands reached for the bed.        — I lost to Felix four times last time, — he also turns on his side, stretching his legs to their full length. — It's a shame.        — I'm glad you two became friends, — Jisung chuckles. The roar with which Lix at the first meeting responded to all the provocations of Minho, who was half a head taller than him, could scare anyone. Even the famous bully Jun from high school communicated with Felix in a respectful manner. — So?       The whole gang always comes to such events, even Jeongin, who lives on the other side of the city. Long lost friends will always be there. Because memories still remain, like pictures in an album. It's nice to revisit this.          — So, I have to win back the money from him. Of course I'll go, — lie on your back, putting your hands behind your head.        — Did you play for money? — Jisung stood up, rounding his deer eyes.        — He dared me, — he says as a matter of course. Like "What's wrong?".          Han gets out of bed, walks forward and flops right on top of Minho, causing him to start writhing.          — You’re heavy, — he put a pillow under his head more comfortably, shifting one palm on Jisung’s back, and the other on the top of his head.        — Let’s sleep, — he grabbed him like a koala, nestling on his soft chest.          Tapping somewhere on the lower floors, warmth and bright light from the window. There are insanely many people on the territory, but this silence is only them.          —Will you make some katsudon for me later? — and suddenly it breaks off.        — Tomorrow. I have a workout today, — he gently ran his hand through his hair.        — Okay, — Jisung replied.        And quietly sniffed five minutes later.