inertia;

Her gaze flickered back and forth from him, the field, her shoes, him, the fields, him, shoes, and it went on like that for a while until she settled on maintaining eye contact. Suji wasn’t really smiling in the excited, happy sense of the word, but rather in the kind of obligatory way, when she really didn’t have anything else to express than just standard politeness. There were so many things to consider, like the fact that she was still wearing the horrendously unflattering shirt she’d vowed not to wear unless the weather was like it was that day: grey, uneventful, humming consistently somewhere beyond the mountains.

Yet there he remained, an outlier among the crowd of close-knit groups huddled along the sidelines. In this kind of a setting, it was painstakingly obvious that he was without companion; but somehow, it was less mortifying to stay put than to make the long (dare he say, pathetic) walk back to the main building all on his own.

Which then presented the real struggle of the day: how to endure the entire practice without wanting to claw his eyes out. Overall, he'd been managing relatively well with cell phone games and messages to his friends back home. And, quite frankly, if he put his mind to it, he might have managed to go for more than the usual hour allotted for practice (he was getting mighty close to 2048). 

But even torture had its end and Yixing was quick to perk up as the crowd began to disperse, leaving him with two options: he could trickle out with the other students--making himself vulnerable to interactions he'd much rather avoid--or he could take his time, wait it out and tag onto the end of the group, thus creating the illusion of relation with none of the commitment.

The latter, of course, was right up the teen's alley and with his bag slung lazily over a single shoulder, he idled on the sidelines, glancing over his shoulder every now and then in muted determination -- he had to do this just right.

Careful in his timing, meticulous in his form, Yixing turned on his heel just as the last groups made their way off the field, ready to join them -- that is, until an unfamiliar voice snared his attention. Then the teen had no choice but to freeze, jerking just slightly in surprise before turning to face the source of the voice.

Initial hopes had him praying that the stranger was talking to someone else; but upon facing her and meeting her eye, he realized he would not be so lucky. He'd seen this girl around many times before; a staple member of the Boseong High community, as far as he could tell. And having anyone converse with him was nerve-racking, let alone her. So her words were met by persistently averted gaze (eyes flickering up to hers in forced etiquette for only a few seconds before they were drawn elsewhere) and a stilted nature to his speech. 

"I...I'm new." Well, that was easy enough. As long as she kept the conversation simple, he would be good -- accent aside, of course. "Yes...and yes. You play...good."