CHAOTIC DUO
The years passed, and Shin and Saint's bond only grew stronger. But as they entered their teenage years, things started to change.
It was the first day of their high school, and the two boys were walking to school together.
Saint had grown taller, his frame broader from years of playing soccer. His messy hair gave him an effortlessly cool vibe, and his easy smile made him popular wherever he went.
Meanwhile, Shin's sharp, quiet demeanor had evolved into something magnetic. He didn't need to speak to command attention—his presence alone did the job.
As they approached the school gates, a group of girls waved at them.
"Morning, Saint!" one called out, giggling.
Saint waved back cheerfully. "Morning!"
Shin didn't even glance their way, walking straight ahead.
"Man, you're so cold," Saint said, jogging to catch up.
Shin raised an eyebrow. "Why waste energy on pointless interactions?"
Saint laughed. "See? This is why I keep you around. You're like my anti-drama shield."
Shin rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at his lips.
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Later that day, Shin sat at his desk, staring out the window of their shared high school classroom. The voices of his classmates buzzed in the background, but he tuned them out, his sharp gaze following the soccer field below. A match was underway, and in the center of it all was Saint, darting across the field like he was born to play the game.
Saint scored a goal with a final kick that had the crowd of students erupting into cheers. His teammates piled on him, patting his back and shouting his name. Shin didn't realize he was smiling until he caught his own reflection in the glass and immediately straightened his face.
"What's the point of all that noise?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
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After the match, Saint bounded into their shared classroom, still radiating the energy of his victory. His tie was askew, his shirt untucked, and his hair a windswept mess.
"Did you see that kick?" he asked, plopping down next to Shin.
"I was in class," Shin replied without looking up from his notebook.
"Yeah, but you saw it, didn't you?"
Shin sighed, flipping a page. "You were average."
Saint gasped, clutching his chest as if wounded. "Average? That was a pro-level goal! Admit it, Boss, you were impressed."
"Stop calling me Boss." Shin said annoyed.
"Never," Saint said with a grin.
Their banter was interrupted by a group of girls from another class crowding around Saint's desk.
"Great game, Saint!'
"You were amazing!"
"Want to hang out with us after school ?"
The girls said enthusiastically.
Saint scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. "Uh, thanks. But I've already got plans with Shin."
Shin froze, his pen pausing mid-word. He didn't know why his chest tightened every time Saint casually brushed off other people for him.
"Aw, that's too bad," one of the girls pouted. "Next time, then?"
"Sure!" Saint said, oblivious to the looks of jealousy directed at Shin.
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Later that day, Shin sat at his desk, nose buried in his notebook as the classroom buzzed with end-of-day chatter. His pen glided across the page in steady strokes, drawing diagrams for a math problem that had been nagging him all afternoon. He was at peace, for once.
Then came Saint.
The door slammed open with dramatic flair, startling the entire room. A few students jumped, a pencil flew across the aisle, and Shin sighed deeply without lifting his head. He didn't need to look; he knew that whirlwind of energy belonged to none other than Saint.
"Shin! Guess what?" Saint's voice boomed, filled with uncontainable excitement.
"No," Shin replied, still focused on his work.
Saint huffed. "I didn't even ask yet!"
"I know it's going to be stupid," Shin deadpanned, his pen not missing a beat.
Undeterred, Saint marched over and plopped down in the chair next to him. "Okay, hear me out—this is brilliant. Because I signed us up for the talent show!"
Shin's pen froze mid-stroke. He slowly lifted his head, his expression shifting from mild annoyance to abject horror. "You did what?"
"I know, right? Genius!" Saint grinned like he'd just solved world hunger.
Shin responded by smacking him on the back of the head.
"Relax, we'll do a comedy skit or something," Saint said pouting, rubbing the spot where Shin had hit him.
"I don't do comedy," Shin deadpanned.
"Well, you're hilarious when you're mad," Saint said, beaming with self-satisfaction.
Shin rubbed his temples. "Saint, I swear—"
"Don't worry, Boss, I've got it all figured out!" Saint interrupted, slapping Shin's shoulder. "It'll be a smash hit."
"If it bombs, I'm blaming you," Shin muttered.
"Blame away," Saint chirped. "Now let's brainstorm jokes!"
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Talent Show Day
The auditorium buzzed with excitement. Rows of students, teachers, and parents filled the seats, their chatter a backdrop to the chaos unfolding backstage. Shin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his sharp glare fixed on Saint, who was darting back and forth like a caffeinated squirrel.
"Saint, stop pacing. You're making me dizzy," Shin grumbled.
Saint froze mid-step, turning to Shin with wide, jittery eyes. "I'm fine! Totally fine! This is going to be… legendary!" His voice cracked at the end, earning an unimpressed snort from Shin.
"You're sweating like you ran a marathon," Shin deadpanned.
"That's just… part of the preparation!" Saint waved his hand dismissively. "A little sweat means I'm taking this seriously!"
"No, it means you're about to pass out," Shin muttered, rolling his eyes.
When their turn came, Saint dragged Shin onto the stage, practically bouncing with excitement. "Ladies and gentlemen!" Saint announced, his voice echoing through the mic. "Prepare to witness the comedy duo of the century!"
Shin muttered under his breath, "More like the disaster of the century."
The skit began smoothly enough. Saint played the part of the hyperactive, clueless friend perfectly—since it was just him being himself. Shin's role as the exasperated cool guy came naturally too, his sarcastic retorts earning chuckles from the audience as his sarcasm hitting all the right notes.
"Hey, Shin, why did the chicken cross the road?" Saint asked, grinning mischievously.
Shin raised an eyebrow. "Hopefully to find a better partner."
The audience burst into laughter. Saint, delighted, took it as encouragement and spun around dramatically, only to trip over a prop chair. The chair clattered to the floor, startling the front row. Saint, ever the opportunist, grabbed the fallen chair and held it up like a trophy.
"It's all part of the act, folks!" he declared, as if unplanned chaos was the pinnacle of comedy.
Shin rubbed his temples. "Your act's giving me secondhand embarrassment."
Unfazed, Saint went for the mic stand next—only to knock it over as well. It crashed spectacularly, sending a reverberating thunk through the auditorium. The audience howled with laughter.
"Bravo," Shin muttered. "Encore, maybe juggle some fire next?'
Saint winked smiling mischievously. "Don’t tempt me."
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By the end, the audience was wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. The chaos, unintentional though it was, had been a hit. Backstage, Saint was buzzing like he'd downed a gallon of espresso.
"Shin! Did you see that? We were amazing!" He threw his arms around Shin, pulling him into a tight hug.
"Get off me, you puppy," Shin grumbled, though his heart thumped unexpectedly at the contact. Why was it doing that?
Saint pulled back, oblivious, his grin so wide it might split his face. "Admit it, Shin—we're a comedic dream team!"
Shin sighed, forcing himself to focus on Saint's idiocy rather than the warmth lingering from the hug. "Dream team? More like a nightmare team. You almost broke the poor mic stand."
"Details! The audience loved it," Saint chirped, eyes sparkling. "And hey, you were great out there, Shin. Your sarcasm? Chef's kiss."
Shin blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. His cheeks warmed. What is his heart doing now? It was just Saint—Saint, the annoying, hyperactive, ridiculously caring idiot friend who always seemed to worm his way past Shin's walls.
"Whatever," Shin mumbled, glancing away to hide the faint flush creeping up his neck. "You're still an idiot."
Saint leaned closer, tilting his head. "But I'm your idiot, right?"
Shin's heart lurched. He froze, staring at Saint, whose grin was as innocent as ever. Was he joking? Or… something else? Why did that thought make Shin feel like he was standing under a spotlight?
Saint gave him a playful nudge. "Don't worry, Shin. I'll take care of you if you ever trip over a mic stand."
And just like that, Shin's heart did another strange, inexplicable flip. He sighed and smacked Saint hand to escape his bothering mind, glaring at the ceiling as if it held answers. What was wrong with me? What was Saint doing to me?
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To Be Continued....