he's the one i dream of
mileapo - school!au, student council president apo, delinquent mile
rated G, 2k words
twitter / based on these photos
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āP'Mai, youāre late again.ā
Mile glares at Apo as he passes by, making sure their shoulders brush against each other. It sends a shiver down his spine. Whether itās simply from the touch or the knowledge that with everyone else Mile would have no issue bumping straight into them out of spite, heās not sure.Ā
Apo doesnāt let Mile walk far without him, trailing hot on his heels, heaving his backpack higher up as he goes.
āHave you been smoking again? Is that why youāre late?ā
Mile throws a cold glare over his shoulder but doesnāt respond. Itās fine - Apo is more than used to this by now, having spent almost the entire school year worming his way under Mileās skin enough to just get him to look at him. And so what if he had to pull out the āIām the president of the student councilā card one too many times? It barely worked anyway, considering Mileās general lack of respect and interest in such a hierarchy, only made worse by the fact that Apo is a few years younger than him.Ā
āP'Mai, you -ā Apo jogs so they can walk side by side, although the view of Mileās broad back was nice while it lasted. He likes looking directly at the other boy, eyes tracing over the contours of his build - wide shoulders, only made more obvious with the bulk of their school blazer, then the gradual taper down into his slim waist. It makes Apo sweat a little under his collar, his tie suddenly feeling too tight around his throat.
āSlow down for a second!ā Apo finishes, grabbing a hold of Mileās bicep.
He finally stops, those narrowed eyes zeroing in on Apo again. āYou were telling me off for being late, but now you want me to be even later?ā
āWell,ā Apo shuffles, his white trainers squeaking against the linoleum flooring. He doesnāt let go of Mileās bicep and uses his other hand to push his glasses back up his nose in a nervous gesture. āItās been a while since we last spoke, so I just wanted to check-in. Howās your music class going?ā
Mile sighs, the fight leaving him. He always turns up to school like this: pent up, his muscles wound up tightly like heās gearing for a fight. Usually, he is, but not because of his own doing - the neighbourhood kids and other nearby schools all seemed to revere him as some type of prize to beat. You take down Mile Phakphum, and youāre the king of the area, earning the respect and fear of hundreds of others. Apo finds it completely pathetic and unnecessary, especially considering that they were all nearing their 20s.
āYou couldāve texted me and asked this,ā Mile replies flatly, his eyes straying to where Apo is still gripping him.
Apo jolts, hurriedly letting go. He tries to ignore the flush blooming across his cheeks. āI wouldāve done, but you take forever to reply.ā
Mile raises an eyebrow, looking down the straight slope of his nose. Apo clears his throat, heart hammering away behind his chest. He always feels so small when heās in front of Mile, despite their height difference barely being even a few inches.
Taking over the student council had been easy. Rallying everyone into some form of subordination to show his authority had been easy, too. It had taken plenty of work, endless days of continuously proving himself, but itād worked out. The worst thing about it was that Apo looked like a walking target for bullies. Heās not ignorant of his outward appearance and the way he carries himself - for him, itās a matter of his personal pride. He likes looking smart, with his small circular frames and neat hair, pristine uniform and spotless track record, along with straight Aās in all his classes. Trying to get people to take him seriously and look at him as anything other than an object to ridicule was something he didnāt think would be possible, but he still did it.
Being faced with Mileās handsomeness, on the other hand? Thatās still something Apo is trying to manage. Heās seen the same face, the same features, heard the same voice and admired the same silhouette now for months, but it never gets easier. His pulse still speeds up, his stomach explodes with butterflies, and his cheeks go pink without any proper reason apart from just being within the general vicinity of Mile. Apoās gone through worse and conquered a whole lot more, yet this one seems like the only mountain he canāt reach the top of.
Heās not sure when it started. It was as if he woke up one day - normal, no Mile centric thoughts - and then the next, he was head over heels for him and it was all he could think about. After that, his brain was completely infested with thoughts of Mileās sharp jawline, his piercing deep brown eyes, his thick eyebrows, and the soft scent of smoke sweetened by a vanilla cologne. His strong arms, even stronger calves that he only saw when he peeked outside the classroom window during the otherās P.E class to watch, and -Ā
Apo hears a sigh, and then thereās a hand on top of his head, ruffling his hair.
āStop worrying about me and get back to class yourself, prez,ā Mile says gently.
Apo startles out of his thoughts, but not quite.Ā
Maybe it was the time that Mile finally responded to him with more than a glare. Or maybe it was the time that Apo managed to break up a fight that was brewing outside the school gates, and Mile gave him a curt nod of thanks before walking off. Or, maybe, more recently, it was when Mile started to truly pay attention to him, letting him stay with him in the music room during lunch, listening to Apoās complaints and ramblings, even chuckling at some of his jokes. Then, if it was around that time, it couldāve been when Mile smiled properly at him for the first time. Not just a small upward quirk of his lips, but a real, genuine smile that completely transformed his whole face. It lit him up like a golden halo, making his eyes crescent into delicate moons, his lips pulling across his teeth as he beamed, his cheeks bunching up sweetly, two sets of dimples appearing with the action. It stole the breath right out of his lungs, looking like a fish out of water as he gaped, and even now at the mere thought of it, he fears he may do anything to try and see it again.
Apo swats his hand away, delayed in trying to smooth down the wild strands of hair that Mile had messed up, caught up in his daydreaming about Mileās smile. āIām allowed to be a little late, youāre not!āĀ
Mile rolls his eyes, shoving his hands into his blazer pockets. His tie is barely done up, loose underneath his shirt collar, and his shirt is half-untucked into the waistband of his trousers. Itās enough to have him written up for a dress code violation. Apo should write him up. Yet, if he does that, itād mean losing sight of the effortless dishevelled look that Mile pulls off. He supposes he finds itā¦ somewhat charming, after all. Even if it means heās showing bias amongst the pupils, he canāt find it in him to care.Ā
Apo never said he wasnāt perfect, and he definitely never said he wasnāt selfish.
Especially when it means that he can reach out, trying to steady his shaking hands, to redo Mileās tie for him.Ā
āYouāre always so messy,ā Apo mutters, the toes of their trainers pressing against each other, the warmth of their bodies radiating between them from their close proximity.
Mileās breath hitches. Heās seen Mileās football teammates initiate physical contact with him easily, and Mile accepts it just as quickly, only batting them away from his hair but nothing else. Apo wants - he wishes - he had the courage to do that. To reach out without a second thought, without being bogged down with all these fluttering nerves and the sound of blood rushing in his ears from a simple interaction between them. Apo wonders if he tried to brush down the stray strands of hair from Mileās bedhead, would he be pushed away too? Maybe Mile would let him get away with it, just like a lot of other things the student allows him to do without more than a mumbling complaint.Ā
Apo glances up at him through his eyelashes above the tops of his lenses, curious, but Mile isnāt looking at him. Heās staring past them with a scary amount of concentration, the muscles in his jaw twitching from being clenched so tightly, his cheekbones pinkened. Apoās stomach sinks. Itās clear from that alone that Mile is fine with everyone else touching him, just not Apo. He supposes thatās fine - if anything, considering Mile is somewhat of a delinquent, and Apo is the equivalent of a thorn in his side, he guesses that it wouldnāt be the most ideal situation for Mile to feel comfortable in. It doesnāt take long for him to sort it out, the sting of rejection fuelling him to go quicker as heās used to doing it with practised ease on himself. Within a few twists and tugs, Apo pushes the tight knot up to the base of Mileās throat, making sure it settles nicely in the middle of his collar.
āThere,ā Apo declares, patting Mile on the chest.Ā
Mile jolts beneath his palms, his pectoral muscles tensing and then relaxing. He peers down, running a hand over the newly tied tie.
His expression gives nothing away, not even when their gazes meet. āNot gonna nag me about my shirt as well?ā
āUnless you want me to shove my hands down your pants, you can do that bit yourself,ā Apo scoffs, crossing his arms petulantly.Ā
The air thickens around them, Mileās neutral expression falling into something else. Something dark, dangerous, a twinkle in his eye forming. Apo feels cornered, a piece of fresh meat in front of a starving lion. He adjusts his frames on the bridge of his nose again, wishing that the lenses were tinted so he had some form of physical barrier between him and the way Mile is watching him.
āShame,ā Mile says vaguely, tucking the hem of his shirt lazily into his waistband. It looks even worse than before, sticking out at odd angles, and Apoās hands itch to get a hold of it and sort it out for him.Ā
Instead, Apo wrinkles his nose at it in distaste, his ears burning with the insinuation of Mileās response. āJustā¦ be on time tomorrow, okay? Then I wonāt have to nag you so much.ā His voice comes out more venomous than he intended, biting and exposing the fact that it hurt his feelings a little.
āBut then I wouldnāt have an excuse to see your pretty face first thing in the morning,ā Mile replies, smirking when Apo looks at him in pure shock.
āP'Mai!ā
Mile leans in, his breath hot over Apoās lips, sending puffs of condensation across his skin. His skin ripples with goosebumps, tiny spikes and shivers working their way down his whole body. Mileās hair tickles across his forehead, catching behind his glasses.Ā
āIāll see you later, prez,ā Mile whispers.
He pulls back as quickly as he comes, walking away down the hallway to his next class. Apo remains still from shock, enduring roils of embarrassment and something else heād really rather not put a name to stirring in his gut until Mile is almost too far away to see.
āI knew it,ā Apo unfreezes, delirium powering him as he spins around on the balls of his feet to face the same way Mile went.Ā
āYour breath stinks of cigarette smoke!ā He yells after him, pouting when all he hears is Mileās laugh echoing around him in reply.
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