across - NCT NA JAEMIN FF

three

We're called for attention and I stand up straight, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves.

"You were this close to being late," Jeno says once everything is finally over and the last of the group photos taken. I stare at the space between his thumb and forefinger and notice how it's not there. I push it away.

"Can't you just be proud I didn't mess up? We both did great! Let's forget that I was ever–"

"Kim Yun!" Almost all heads, students and parents alike, turn to the loud voice and some snickers are heard from other black-belters. Jeno pushes me to our gym's head instructor and I bow deeply, feeling my face heat up from embarrassment.

"We told all performing black-belters to be here an hour early." I can't see his face so I imagine he's shaking his head.

"Yes sir," I say with my head kept down.

"And you were a performing black-belt," he continues.

"Yes sir," I repeat.

"And we said 300 push-ups and 500 squats as punishment, right?"

"Yes sir," I mumble.

"What did you say?"

I clear my throat, "Yes sir!"

My voice resonates throughout the gym and I feel like disappearing into a hole.

"Well then, it's almost 8. Better hurry."

I get down on the ground and start my punishment.

People start to leave the gym, many bowing to me as they exit. Whether it's to mock me or out of respect, I don't know, and hardly care.

My arms threaten to give in at 139 and I blink the sweat out of my eyes. The gym is almost empty at this point.

"Three hundred!" I let out and I allow my arms to let loose.

The other lights of the gym are shut off, everything else tidy except for my mat, which is full of my dripping sweat and sweat marks from my knuckles.

The only other person left sits in front of me. Jeno smiles, holding his phone up, shamelessly taking a video. I try and flip him off, but my arm falls down limply.

He cackles at my suffering. "This'll make you think twice about being late," he says cheerfully.

I send a deadly look at him and force myself up. I stagger slightly and he watches in amusement, still holding up is phone.

"You're evil," I wheeze. I cross my arms over my chest and prepare for the squats. Before the adrenaline stops, I begin.

"One-fucking-hundred," I count, completely winded and dying. Jeno is now lying down and scrolling through his phone.

He sits up at the 100th squat. "You can stop now."

I ignore him and continue, knowing full well I deserve this.

He rolls his eyes and slings his bag over his shoulder. He zips it open and rummages through it, coming up with a bottle of water. He tosses it to me. "Gunhee-sunbae," one of our instructors "said you could stop at 50."

I pop open the bottle, chug it all quickly, close it, and throw it at him. He blocks it and starts laughing. "You're an asshole. You could have told me that sooner, like before I made it to a hundred."

"I forgot," he says with a shrug. I glare at him as I sit back down and try to steady my breathing. He takes out a towel and an extra tshirt from his bag and throws it down at me. "We should get going, it's almost 9:30. You took your sweet time."

He picks up the fallen bottle and I undo my belt and uniform. "I hate you. If I'd had known I only needed 50–"

"–then you would have gone slower. Admit it, you would've taken much longer if you knew you needed to do much less."

I have to peel off my soaking undershirt that sticks to my skin. I throw it at Jeno, who dodges it while squeaking in disgust. "But you still could have told me when I reached 50," I grumble. I wipe off the sweat slowly since my whole body is screaming in pain and my limbs are shaking from fatigue. I pat off whatever I can, but it's almost useless as more sweat keeps popping up.

Jeno carefully picks up my wet tshirt and places it in a plastic before into his bag.

When I have no more strength to wipe off anymore of my sweat, I take the shirt he gave and wriggle into it. Once I have, he grabs my wrists and pulls me up. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" I wail when pain shoots through my arms when he does this.

"Sorry," he mumbles when I'm already up. "We need to get going. I'm starving." He bends down for the towel and starts walking away.

I start limping to follow him since my legs are shaking badly. When I'm almost at the door he passes by with a mop in hand. "I'll clean up. Go get your stuff and wait for me outside."

Too tired to respond, I obey him without a word. I walk into the locker room, and every time I see a chair I am tempted to sit. I force myself to look up while I stumble to my locker. I open its door and I have to blink twice at the unsightly sight.

Almost all my hair has fallen out of my ponytail and sticks grossly to my face.  My tomato-hued face is practically a waterfall of sweat. Even the huge shirt I was lent is already starting to soak up.

My nostrils flare as I inhale, my lungs still gasping for air.

I sigh and undo what's left of my ponytail. I watch as my dark brown, shoulder-length hair falls and I feel it attach itself to the wet and uncovered skin of my neck.

I close my eyes tiredly and sigh while I open my bag to get my towel. I blindly look through it and take out the small cloth. I start wiping off the sweat again, paying more attention to my face and neck.

While I do this, I try and ignore the invading feeling of sadness, but it's no use. I had no new notifications, not one congratulations. Not even from my brothers.

I know I was late, and I would have done the punishment anyway, but no one, no one said 'great job' or 'you did well'. I thought I had. It being my first demonstration with a solo part was so hard and terrifying, but all I got was a punishment for being late.

I breathe in deeply and open my eyes that are starting to redden.

"No," I say to my reflection sternly. "You deserved that."

I wipe my face again and push the thoughts away before I can add to the mess with tears.

When I come out I almost freeze from the cold. My lack of layers is instantly regretted.

Jeno is leaning against a post while swinging around a plastic. When he sees me he comes over and starts emptying out its contents.

He takes out some hot packs and places them in my hands. He takes out something else which I recognize as pain relief patches, and sticks them to my arms, then inserts my arms through the holes of the shirt. Immediately, I feel warmer and I grip the packs tighter for more heat. "Thank you," I tell him while I watch him work.

Just like the other boys, care has always been more evident in their actions rather than their words. I have always been the one good with words.

Our bus ride home is quiet and he doesn't even mention how I did. With his earphones on, he's glued to his screen. I try not to let it get to me, but at one point I start wishing I was already back in my room and alone.

We get off at our stop and I don't wait for him as tears start prickling my eyes, but what I see makes me stop.

All the boys, even Mark and my cousin, my brothers, Beomgyu, and Jimin and Jungkook, stand outside our building with balloons and a cake. As soon as they see me they start waving with beaming faces.