hockey au but there's no hockey
Rumi freaks out in her room for a while longer. She tries to calm herself but it's useless.
When someone knocks on the door Rumi's worked herself into such a frustration she doesn't even check it before she swings it open.
“What are you doing here?” She snarls.
“Not even a ‘hello’?” Kang quips, that infuriating smug smirk on her lips.
“How did you get my room number?”
Before Rumi can protest, Kang pushes her way into the room.
“Nice digs,” she quips, looking around. “Of course, the one they gave me has a balcony.”
“Whatever this is, I'm not in the mood,” Rumi practically hisses.
“So you don't want your notebook back?” Kang withdraws the aforementioned object from a pocket in her jacket, pinching it between her long pointer and middle fingers.
“Where did you get that.”
“That's not--I don't--I've never seen that–”
“Then why's your name written in it?”
“No, no, no,” Rumi turns her back because she can't bear it. She can't see Kang's face for one more second. This is it. Her career is over. What was she thinking, using her stupid playbook to journal in? Her therapist said--no, screw what her therapist said, this is all Rumi's fault. Her own failing. And now Kang's going to--Kang's going to–
“You can't tell anyone,” Rumi gasps, frantic. “You can't--nobody knows. Nobody can know.”
Kang just keeps staring at her.
Kang looks at the notebook, and then back to Rumi.
“I promise I won't tell anyone.” She holds the book out and Rumi lunges for it but it's nothing but a ruse.
Of course she wouldn't have mercy on Rumi. Kang isn't capable of mercy.
“What do you want,” she asks. Her voice sounds desperate even to her own ears. Kang smirks. She's got Rumi pinned like a bug to a wall and she knows it.
The next words out of Kang’s mouth hit Rumi like a bus.
areudirty
janainaart
jbbartram-illu
origamiaround
dededos
2087
