13TS

“Taehyung-ah… can you list all the things you hate about me?” I ask lifelessly as I lie down on the sofa, staring at our ceiling.

He clears his throat. “Well, first, you always question my presence here.”

I frown, throwing him a pillow. “I mean, it’s a little worrying how you’re always here—almost everyday!”

“Aww, you’re worried about me?” he teases as he rubs my chin. And with that I playfully attempt to bite his hand, making him quickly pull away. “Besides, you know I’m alone there.”

“Both are still on the night shift?”

He hums in response. “Nevermind that. Why are you even asking me about that hate thing?”

“Well, we’ve been friends for so long. You must have things you hate about me.”

“Hate is a big word…” He clicks his tongue. “But you surely annoy me sometimes.”

“For instance?”

“You used to steal my food. Always wanted to get treated,” he answers. “Annoying but tolerable. Other than that? Nothing that I can think of right now… Why? Did that guy say something to you?”

I glance at him and shake my head. “Nothing. I’m just curious about myself.”

It’s better to lie than admit it. That those simple remarks from a guy I just met bothers me—a lot.

How can he at least pretend to be nice to someone, and be a straight up jerk to me?

“Whatever the reason, don’t beat up yourself with it. You’re fine,” Taehyung reassures, playfully winking at me as he gives me a thumbs up.

His playfulness makes me smile, letting me forget the unfortunate event between me and that demon cat.

>>>

The next morning comes, and as usual, I do my routine. There’s nothing new today except for…

“Here’s your extra,” Mom says as she hands the lunch bag. 

For a second, I only stare at her. What can I possibly do with that? I can’t just eat it since I have no plan on gaining so much weight. Though… I can’t pass up either. My mom made an effort on packing this.

“What? It looked like you’ve been really hungry—especially yesterday,” she says, looking amused. “Both lunchboxes were scraped up.”

“Oh it’s just…” I gulp as I take the bag from her. “Did you make it… cute again?”

“No, I didn’t have time. Do you want me to?”

“No, no, it’s perfect. This is perfect.” Chuckling awkwardly, I thank her, and bid my family goodbye.

The second I step out of our house, I text Jimin.

‘jm, mom packed an xtra lunch. want it?’

Without even a minute later, he replies. 

‘depnds... is it 2 much?? cuz my mum packd me sum 2 lol’

‘sorta. she alwys fills my lnchbx.’

‘>~< no can do:/ im srsly tryin to lus w8’

‘T^T’

“What do I do with this now…” I say to myself as I hop on the bus.

Sitting by the window, I watch the streets pass by in a blur. Then, as we come to a halt, I see a cat stopping by to look back at me. 

Should I… give it to the cat?

But before I can decide, the bus starts moving again. Leaving me no choice but to give it to another ‘cat’. The demon one.

>>>

Some of my classmates are already here inside of the classroom, except for… the person seated in the center. It’s a little odd to see Jimin here before him, knowing that my seatmate likes to be late.

I guess… he'll be Jimin today.

But this is much better than to hand him the lunch personally. Another lucky thing today is that everyone's busy chattering with one another. Even Jimin is gossiping with Hoseok. He once mentioned that they become close because they’re both members of A.M.C.. 

There’s no event nor activity yet in any guild I’ve joined, so I haven’t really met the other people. According also to Jimin, the-guy-who-must-not-be-named and I are the only ones in our year who are brave enough to join five guilds. Though, it’s not a wonder why. Our grades in this school year is the most crucial thing for us to get into the university we want. We have to keep our grades high—or at least passed. And with five guilds, it is true that it’ll be hard to juggle those.

Although, he’s been doing it for years—both active in academics and extracurriculars. If he can, then I can. Hundred times better.

While everyone is busy with each other, I slip my way to his seat. As I smoothly put down the lunchbag, I walk away, heading to my seat as if nothing happened. Luckily enough, no one noticed me. 

It’s good to be a shadow sometimes.

>>>

The first few classes fly by in a blink of an eye. I didn’t even notice earlier how he reacted upon seeing my ‘gift’. Not that his reaction matters.

“Okay, class. For today, we’ll have a quiz,” Mr. Sun—our teacher in Research—announces that makes everyone gasp in panic and surprise. He chuckles at our reaction as he prepares the papers. “Don’t worry, it’s an easy one.”

”Is it multiple choice, sir?” Jaehyun asks loudly.

“No, it’s enumeration and identification.”

And with his reply, everyone groans and whines as most of us haven’t reviewed the lessons—yes, including me. I take a glance toward the palest boy in the room, and to my surprise, he looks defeated too.

”So this is what they meant by Mr. Sun’s surprise quizzes…” Jimin says as he fixes his glasses. “Did you review?”

”No…”

”Neither did I.”

We’re fucked.

Our teacher in front laughs whole-heartedly at us, seeming like our agony is his happiness. 

“Did none of you really review our lessons? Not even you, Yoongi?” Mr. Sun asks.

The said boy just shamefully looks away in response.

“Aright.” He sighs, understanding our class’ situation. “I’ll be the one to adjust since it’s your first quiz.”

Everyone’s faces light up, and we cheer for our teacher.

“But! Here’s how it’ll go,” he adds, getting our attention immediately. “You will still answer this quiz—but in pairs. Huh? How’s that?” He grins proudly as he playfully raises the questionnaires. 

“How did that make any difference when none of us review anyway?” My classmate who is sitting behind me—Cho—accidentally says her thoughts loud enough to hear.

”Well, who knows. Some of you might have knowledge stocked in the nook of your brain,” Mr. Sun teases instead. “Nonetheless, I’m giving you fifteen seconds to choose your partner. Timer starts now!”

I’d have a higher chance to pass this quiz if I partner myself with—

“Wanna be partners?” Jimin’s voice cuts off my thoughts.

”Oh-uhm—“

”Unless you already have a partner in mind,” he adds, smirking subtly at me.

”Nine… Eight… Seven…” Mr. Sun countdowns in the background.

Jimin’s smart too. We’ll pass this. I don’t need that devious cat.

“So?” The blondie tilts his head as he cocks his brow.

”Sure!” I huff out a laugh. “Who else would I be partnered with?” 

He gives me a look before opening his mouth, making me quickly add, “And no, you don’t have to answer," just to shut him up. 

Mr. Sun rings his bell to get our attention once again. Everyone settles down with their partners. Some are partnered with their friends, most are with their seatmate. As I observe the pairs, I catch a certain someone glancing at our way, and when our eyes meet, he quickly looks away.

Was he… considering me?

I shake off my thoughts—delusional thoughts. He would never consider me. He hates my overall existence to bear this period with me. Add the stress this quiz gives.

”Now that everyone’s settled,” Mr. Sun says. “Put everything away from your table. I should only see a pen and paper there.”

Putting my notebooks in my bag, I hear Jimin whisper, “He looked in our way.”

“Who did?” I play pretend as I compose myself.

”Yoongi.”

”So?”

”Hmm, nothing. Just letting you know,” he says as he smiles cheekily at me. “And also, he’s partnered with his Hoseok.”

”O..kay…?” I snort. “Why are you reporting things about him? I don’t need those infos.”

”Alrighty. If you say so.” His menacing smirk only makes me shake my head.

Soon, our teacher hands out the quiz papers. And before we start, Mr. Sun adds, “The duo to get the highest score, will get a Chip each. Good luck, and don’t cheat!”

With his last reminders, Jimin and I start to focus on the paper. Since I didn’t review at all, I’m going to put my faith in our retained knowledge from all the listening we did during past discussions. 

“You answer questions one to twelve, and I do thirteen to twenty-five?” Jimin asks.

I nod in response. “Sure.”

As I read the questions, my mind quickly comes up with the answers.

Question 1: It is a process of systematic inquiry that entails collection of data.

I write down my answer—Research—on my scratch paper.

Question 2: The Middle French term for Research that means ‘to go about seeking’’.

“Uh… What was it ?” I murmur to myself before turning to ask Jimin. “What’s that french word? Rocher?”

“What? Isn’t that a chocolate brand?”

“Wait, you’re right.” I put my lips together on a thin line as I realize my foolishness.

Jimin, on the other hand, chuckles at me. “It’s Recherche.”

“Got it.” 

Question 3: It’s an original investigation undertaken using knowledge—

Applied research.

Question 4: It uses non-numerical data—

Qualitative research.

Question 5: A kind of quantitative research that aims to evaluate interventions but that do not use randomization.

Qui… Quo… Qua—Quasi-experimental…? Yep, that’s it. Maybe.

Then after these questions, I move to the next set which is the enumeration part. 

Give the 7 steps in the Research Process.

“Hmm… Ah!”

(1. Identify the problem.

2. 

3.

4. Collect data.

5. Analyze data.

6.

7. Present findings.)

Not knowing the answer, I turn to my seatmate. “Jimin-ah, do you know this?”

His face is distorted, plump lips pouting even more. A low grunt escapes him before replying, “I don’t. I’m also stuck with these questions.” He points at the numbers eighteen, nineteen, twenty-two, and twenty-five.

Combining the questions we skipped, there are seven items. We have no idea what the answers are and the clock is ticking. I glance at the numbers he mentioned, and an imaginary bulb lights up beside my head.

“Number nineteen is Concurrent Triangulation.”

“Oh, okay.” Jimin writes it down on his scratch paper. “Six left.”

“Five minutes!” Mr. Sun announces, making everyone rush even more.

“Uh uhm…” I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. “I’m going to transfer our answers while we think.” With that, I take his scratch paper too, and start writing them on the test paper.

Moments pass by, it’s now time to submit our papers. My hands are so sweaty from all the nervousness and frustration the test gave me.

Jimin taps my shoulder, making me look at him. “You alright?” he asks as he gives me a small smile.

“Yeah. It’s just—” A chuckle escapes me. “We literally made up answers for those six questions.”

“What’s wrong with common sense as the answer for the researcher’s guide?” He jokes, playing dumb as he pouts while shrugging.

I only laugh and shake my head in response. 

As Mr. Sun collects our papers, he switches them per row so we can check now. The paper that lands on us is Bomin and Dohee’s. 

When I first came here, I thought that this class is only full of academically excellent students, but they proved me wrong.

“Does everyone have a paper to check?” Mr. Sun asks out loud, and we say ‘yes’ in unison as a response. “Okay, number one—Research. Two—Recherche. Three—” He continues on saying the correct answers, and everyone stays quiet while checking. 

Probably praying to pass at least.

Once we’re done, we’re told to give the test papers back to the owners. The second our paper lands in our hands, we shout in triumph.

“Twenty-one!!” I high-five Jimin and jump along with him in excitement.

 “Can’t believe the answers we just guessed are right!” He laughs, eyes crinkling from the unexpected outcome.

“Ahem.” We hear Mr. Sun clears his throat, making us settle down and just quietly enjoy our score.

We passed!!

“So how’s your score? Aside from Jimin and Y/n who obviously passed,” Mr. Sun teases.

“Might as well be chump change,” someone answers.

Our teacher laughs as he gets the pile of papers he asked to collect. “So now you know that you should always be prepared for my subject. There’s always next time.”

“Nah, I’ll drop out,” another one jokes.

“Anyhow, let’s see who got the highest.” Mr. Sun composes himself. “Scores twenty and above?”

Jimin and I immediately raise our hands, and from my seat, I can also see Yoongi and Hoseok raising theirs. We’re the only pair with raised hands—but, the only difference between us, he doesn’t seem happy.

“Just them? Mhm, what’s your score Park?” Mr. Sun asks.

“Twenty-one,” Jimin proudly replies.

“And you, Yoongi?”

“Twenty,” he says flatly, obviously annoyed.

Mr. Sun nods. “Not bad, but not enough.” 

A hint of indignation hits me as he says those words—and it’s not even for me. The joy in me suddenly falls a little.

And I don’t know why.

The balding man sighs, and takes his Chip collection in his bag. “As for the winners, here are your Chips.”

In contrast to Jimin's excitement as he walks, I stride my way to him with a straight face. I take the Chip without giving him regards of any sort.

As we settle back, he bids everyone a goodbye while all I’m looking at is the boy’s face looking so dismissively glum. 

It was just a test…

>>>

It’s lunchtime now, and as usual, I’m going to eat here alone in the classroom. I have to finish my notes after all. Our math teacher doesn’t give lectures, but instead, she prefers that we take down notes. 

“Eating alone again?” His mocking voice reaches my ears, making me turn my head toward him. “Loner.”

”Loser,” I bite back. “Why are you even still here?”

He mumbles something I can’t quite catch before almost shoving the lunchbag to my face. “Because of this.” Pulling it back, he sits in front of me. “Just so you know, my parents also feed me well. I just prefer buying food in the cafeteria ‘cause it’s less hassle.”

Not that I prefer giving you that either.

“But you do realize that you can eat that without… sitting here,” I reply as I give him a weird look.

”Mhm, I wish.” He then glances somewhere and smiles, bowing politely even.

I follow his gaze, and I see Mrs. Choi smiling giddily at us before walking away. 

“She asked me again,” he says through gritted teeth—keeping his grin until he makes sure she’s gone. Just like that, his scowling face goes back.

Turning to my food, I chuckle a little at his absurdity. “Such a people pleaser.”

“Says the other people-pleaser,” he smugly replies as he opens the lunchbox.

”Wha—I am not.”

”Volunteering to write the whole lecture on the board without exemption on it, and only getting one Chip? Sad,” he says sarcastically, referring to what happened in our Chemistry class where we’re literally the only ones who volunteered.

”You’re just jealous ‘cause the teacher chose me. Not you.” I mockingly smile at him before sighing at the realization that comes in my mind. “But yeah, we’re kinda pathetic for volunteering for that.”

”He could’ve at least made an exemption. That was a long lecture.”

”Right?! My hand hurt after writing actually, pfft.”

”It’s not any better writing it in a notebook. My hand was sore!”

I hold back my laugh at the sight of Yoongi’s pouty look while complaining. Good thing I manage to do so.

”Then safe to say, it’s not worth it?”

“Yep, not worth it at all.”

I can’t believe we’re agreeing on something. And just how miserable we are to have something in common—and that is being a people-pleaser.

>>>

After school, Yoongi and I have our practice. Nothing special happens. We bicker, we dance, we bicker, we dance, we bicker, we—practically a loop of bantering and dancing. But in my head, I keep scolding myself for feeling things whenever he looks at me. Almost gazing softly—though it can be just my delusions. I might be schizophrenic .

But how can I not feel anything when he holds me so close and his voice is so smooth and his smell is so good and his existence itself is alluring that even my sentence right now has so many ‘and’s because beside him—I think I’m going insane.

(MYG POV)

"I have really gone mental..."

A/N: Idk why but I feel like this is just a filler chap lmao. Also, I'm really sorry for not updating that much, I've been really feeling restless nowadays. I've been so busy that I use my free time to doomscroll and sleep. My story ideas are also... meh. I'm going through a slump again, I think. I mean, the ideas are there, but when it's time to write, I just really feel sleepy and unmotivated. Idk why. Anyways, I'm just letting you know that I'm really sorry for not updating every week as I usually do. I'm trying to work at a slow but steady pace so I won't publish half-assed stories lol.

Right after school, I ask Jimin to come with me and help me to sign up for different guilds. We’re in the student council’s room right now. The secretary hands me a piece of paper where the names of guilds are listed and so does where I can find them.

I thank the secretary, and we both head out again—going to the guilds’ rooms. 

“Let’s see…” I hum as I scan the paper. There are ten different guilds, serving different purposes. We can only join up to five guilds, and by the time we become inactive for at least a month in a guild, we are automatically removed. They of course send a notice a week prior to their removal. 

“Join A.M.C.,” Jimin chimes enthusiastically. “Contemp. dancing isn’t that hard. Besides, you’ll have me there.”

“Hmm, I’ll think about it,” I reply, still focused on the paper as we walk. “Botanical Hearth… Is this the one that manages the garden here?”

“Yeah.” He nods, then slowly, a sly smile creeps in his lips. “You’re going to join there because of the flower boy, aren’t you?”

“I-I’m not.”

“Whatever.” He smirks. “Just remember what Rin said—Yoongi hyung’s there too.”

I huff, pained by the reminder. Then, I stop my tracks to glance at him. “Let’s go to the Visualist Atelier—their room is near here.”

Jimin nods and goes along with me. We head to the said room. Opening their door, we take a peek inside. We see multiple students doing rough sketches of their model. Which is…

“Kim Seokjin?”

“Oh—Y/n! Jimin!” Jin greets as he waves at us.

“I told you not to move!” A girl with her hair dyed with different bright colors smacks his head using a hard paper. Jin pouts at her as he rubs his head. The other students on the other hand seem unfazed. Maybe used to the scene. Then, she turns to us. “May I help you?”

“Uh… I’m just looking around. Finding interesting guilds to join to.” 

She smiles as she nods, walking towards us. “Well, I’m Byeol. I’m the leader of this guild.” She extends her arm, and we shake hands. “Look around. Every work here is made by students. And we don’t just paint and draw here, we also sell the artworks. Then half of the profit we get goes to the charity our school holds. But you probably know about that, right?”

“Yes.”

I do in fact know about the charity. Only because I searched some things about Yoongi before. He’s in a small group that includes the student council where he helps them on things that are about charities. He sort of leads them, though it’s still the Student Council President who is in charge overall—supervised by the teachers, of course.

“That’s good then. Just write your name down here if you’re interested.” She hands me a paper to which I take. She goes back to her spot, and draws again.

I walk around, looking at each artwork—mesmerized by them.

“I didn’t know you’re into drawing stuff,” Jimin says as he walks beside me.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” My eyes are still on the artworks as I reply. “I mostly do portraits. Prefer semi-realism. I also paint and use other coloring mediums.”

“Ooh, can you draw me then?”

I glance at him, cocking a brow. “I can, but… that means I’d have to stare at you for hours as I draw. What if I fall for you?” I tease just to mess with his head.

He snorts as he rolls his eyes. “You won’t.”

”Why won’t I? You’re kinda cute.”

“ ‘Kinda’?” He huffs. “I am cute. Sexy and lovely too.” He pauses as he clicks his tongue. “And you don’t date friends.”

”I guess you know something about me after all.” I tear my gaze away, looking back at the paintings. Still amused by Jimin, of course.

“You like putting boundaries. So, a friend is only a friend to you no matter what. And if you see the potential of dating them, you don’t make them your closest friend. Because you hate the stereotype of girl-boy best friends falling for each other—especially when they explicitly said that they're like siblings. It gives you ick. And you believe in platonic relationships,” he adds, making me smirk with his analysis. “So, when meeting someone for the first time, you tend to think about what you want from them. You prefer to like someone first because it gives you a choice. The upperhand.” 

“And you knew about those just from being my seatmate for a month?”

“No, Taehyung told me.” He chuckles as he’s probably grinning from ear to ear.

”Of course…”

“Besides, you’re too infatuated with Yoongi hyung to fall for me.”

With his name mentioned, my head snaps toward him—almost breaking it. “W-What?! I’m not!” I exclaim loudly, making the students look at us. With that, I pause, and quickly think what to say to cover it up. “I—I’m not going to leave without joining here… Sorry.” I bow slightly with shame, and I write my name on the registration form. Walking towards Byeol, I give her the paper and thank her before pulling Jimin by his wrist and getting out of the room. “I hate you,” I say as soon as we’re out, glaring at him.

”Nuh-uh, you hate hyung too much to—“

”Just shut up. Shut up!” I huff as I take a look at the paper again. “Let’s go next to… Symphonic Circle.

“Are you sure?”

”What? Why?”

”Yoongi hyung’s their ace in there. Practically his playground,” he replies while stifling a grin.

I groan in frustration, closing my eyes tight shut for a second. Looking back at the paper, I ask, “‘Ambitious Representative MC for Youth’? What’s that?”

“Charity focused. The one hyung’s leading,” he says. “I think I mentioned it before.”

I roll my eyes as I poke my tongue in my cheek. With a sigh, I glance at the blondie. “Is there any guild he’s not part of?”

“Mhm, yep. Visual Atelier—the one you just joined at, Chronicle Core, A.M.C., Archives Guild, and Catalyst Circle,” he replies, then he looks at me akwardly. “But…”

”But what?”

”ChroCo, Archives, and CatCi are all full. As far as I remember, they stopped taking students since last-last week.”

Damn it.

My shoulders slump at what he says. This only means I either only join the other two he isn’t in, or still join in five guilds—despite him being there too. I practically have to choose whether to not get high grades or be with that cat demon even during my extracurriculars.

But I’d rather endure the latter. What’s the difference anyway? Whether I join or not, I still see him everyday at class. I still meet him after class and even dance with him.

So, yes. I would rather endure the pain of always seeing him, than the pain of not getting high grades while knowing I could’ve.

“Ain’t I lucky?” I sarcastically say as I sneer. “Then…” I sigh, glancing back at the paper. “I’ll be joining A.M.C., Botanical Hearth, Delphic Society, and…”

”Delphic Society? You like literature?”

”Mhm, sorta,” I reply flatly, still contemplating which is the last one I’ll join. We’re not actually required to join five guilds, but this is my way to get more added grades as possible.

“Join the Integral League,” he suggests.

“Nah, I hate math.”

”It’s our major…”

I hum, eyes still fixated on the paper. “Sadly, it is.”

He chuckles at my bluntness. 

“I would’ve joined CatCi since I’m kinda better with science, but… Pfft.”

“What about the Symphonic Circle?”

“I can literally play one song on a keyboard. I’d look like a fool there.”

“Then…”

”Then,” I sigh. “A.R.M.Y. it is.”

”Whoa.” He holds me by the shoulder, making me look at him. “You’re fine being in a group where he’s the leader?”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” I argue.

He stares at me for a second. Just stares at me. Then he says, ”You’re the stupidest smart person I’ve ever known…” He grins, chuckling as he lets me go. “I just hope you don’t regret this, Y/n. Best of luck.”

”Thanks, I’m gonna need that luck.”

After deciding the guilds I want to join, Jimin and I head toward their rooms. Jimin is already a member in A.M.C. so we just quickly pass by and I write my name on their form. The next one we go to is the Botanical Hearth’s room.

A boy named Yeongbin greets us and hands me the form. With his big glasses and composed look, I can tell he’s the leader. He then tells us what their guild does—which is practically planting and keeping the school eco-friendly. I actually hoped that Namjoon would be here. Just to see a familiar face. But it seems like he’s not.

“So, I’m looking forward to your participation.” He smiles as he takes back the form from me.

I simply thank him, then we head out. We go next to Delphic Society. Their room is just across the library, giving the place a quiet solitude they need. 

I’m about to knock when the door opens, revealing a tall boy with cute dimples.

“Namjoon…”

“Oh. Hey, Y/n.” He smiles at me, eyes wrinkling as his dimples deepen. “Sup.”

“Uh…” I clear my throat as I step back. “Are you a member here?”

“Yep, are you going to join?”

“Yes… Can I?”

“Of course.” He laughs. “Come in. Doyun hyung is here. He leads this guild.” He steps aside, letting me and Jimin go inside. 

Unlike the previous guilds we went to, their room is plain. Not the typical classroom. It has multiple shelves of books, and the overall decoration looks old school. The walls are painted in russet, so are the furniture. All is in brown and black, keeping the aesthetic bookworm old fashioned. The chairs are aligned in a circle, probably to make their meetings more intimate.

“Hi, I’m Han Doyun.” A guy in a man bun shakes my hand. His eyes are sharp, intimidating. But the smile on his lips looks sweet. “Are you both interested in joining our guild?”

“Nope, just her,” Jimin answers for me.

“Alright, then just answer this form.”

I take the form, and write down my name and section on it. He briefs me about what their guild does. 

Once a week, they all meet to share anything. A book they’ve read, a poem they made, or a problem that’s been bugging their mind. They also make their own mini stories. 

At the end of the school year, they make a compilation of the poems, and make it a book. They sell them at the local bookstores and with what they earn, half of it goes to the charity. Just like the rest of other guilds, I guess.

“I’m looking forward to reading your works soon,” he says as he takes the form.

“Who knows, she might be better than hyung and I,” Namjoon chimes, chuckling.

“Meh, You and Yoongi can take some heat.” Doyun laughs heartily.

My brows furrow slightly in confusion. “Uhm, is there some sort of competition?”

“Nope. It’s just, those two like to compare their works,” he explains as he puts a strand of his hair behind his ear. “Yoongi says it’s his way to improve himself. Have you met Yoongi?”

Sadly, I did…

“He’s our classmate actually,” I say as I smile awkwardly. “Anyhow, we have to go. Thanks again.” I glance at Doyun and Namjoon before grabbing Jimin by his wrist and getting out of the room.

“Dragging me has really become your habit, huh?” Jimin grins as we walk away.

“If I didn’t, you would’ve said something about me and him.”

“Like what?” He smugly snorts. “There’s no you and him.”

I cock a brow, huffing out a laugh as I continue to walk. “Whatever. Let’s just go.”

We head to the final destination. My final destination. I don’t even know how long I can endure being a member of this guild. With him as my leader? I will surely have no peace at all.

I don’t even bother to knock, pushing the door open without any care. But soon, I freeze on my spot at what I see. 

Yoongi and a pretty girl are standing close to each other. Too close for my liking.

Not that what I like matters.

She’s holding his arms as she slowly looks back at me. On the other hand, Yoongi just stands still, his eyes already on me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but he looks shocked as I am.

“We can go back some other time.” I hear Jimin say groundedly. Before I can further react, he takes me by the shoulder and turns me around. He leads me somewhere—or maybe towards nowhere at all. We just walk away.

I still don’t know how my mind goes blank and thoughts rush to me at the same time. If that even makes sense. I don’t know why I froze at the sight—and at the thought of what they could be possibly doing. It’s just the two of them in that room after all.

Wait—why do I care?

I snap out my thoughts, feeling like a cold splash of water wakes me. 

Why would I think about what they are to each other?

A low annoyed grumble comes out from me as I kick a pebble.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks.

Glancing at him, I nod. “Why won’t I be?” 

“Y/n!”

My steps halt, I turn towards the voice. It’s his.

He’s panting a little. Probably ran after us. But why?

“Why were you there?” he asks flatly as he walks closer to us. 

“She was thinking of joining your guild,” Jimin answers for me.

Yoongi’s eyes shift to Jimin, giving him a cold look. But he quickly looks at me again. “You can’t join mine.”

I frown, stepping forward. “And why can’t I?”

“We’re full.”

“Right…” I mockingly smirk as I scoff. “The two of you in that room seemed… full.”

“It’s—”

“You can’t stop me from joining yours,” I say, looking at him head high. “You’re just the leader. I can talk to the head teacher about this.”

His guild is my last resort. I don’t care if I have to endure seeing him being so lovey-dovey with another girl. I don’t care. The only thing I care about here is my grades. That’s all. And I won’t let him be the hindrance to get what I need to have.

His jaw clenches as he crosses his arms. “Fine. Join.” With a last glance between me and Jimin, he turns and walks away.

As soon as he’s nowhere, Jimin steps closer to me.

“Y/n, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“O-Of course.” I look at him as I smile. “It’s just guilds.” We start walking again, but then I remember something. “I forgot. Can you help me with something?”

He grins, raising a brow. “Isn’t this the help you were talking about earlier?”

“No, this is just an appetizer.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “Dance with me.”

“What?”

“Let’s practice my dance. Just this one time.”

He frowns a little. “Aren’t you partnered with…”

“Yes, but he sucks.” I huff. “I just need to see if our dance is the problem or the dancer himself. So?”

“Ugh, fine. But you better pay me back someday.”

I smile, giggling at his tired face. “Of course. Someday.”

(MYG POV)

Why did I run after her? Why did I feel the need to explain?

“Idiot.”

And at this point, I don’t know whether I’m talking about her—or myself.

Yoongi and I still have practice today, even after what happened earlier. During lunch, we agreed to practice here—in the music room—again, half an hour after school. There’s still about ten minutes before we see each other so I’m going to use the time left to practice our dance with Jimin. I give him my notes where the steps are listed.

“Hmm… Your steps seem easy.”

“Exactly!” I groan, sitting on the piano bench as I look up at him. “That’s why I don’t get how he always makes mistakes.”

“Maybe he’s just distracted,” Jimin replies as he gives back my notepad.

I huff, annoyance plastered all over my face. “Yep, he was. Said he’s hungry.”

“That’s all? He was distracted ‘cause he’s hungry?”

“What else could he possibly be distracted from?”

“You.

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

This time, I laugh—so loud it echoes across the room. “Why would I be a distraction when I, myself, was too focused on our dance?”

He only stares at me deadpan, making me more confused.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, you—” I clear my throat. “You had a thought. What is it?”

“It’s just a crazy thought.”

“Then what is it?”

“Can’t tell.”

“Why not?”

“Because… we’re running out of time. You want to practice the steps, right?” Jimin grins as he takes my hand, pulling me up from my seat.

“Fine. But whatever that crazy thought you have, that better be good.”

“Trust me, it is.”

I only shake my head as I chuckle. We position ourselves in a dance stance. I start counting as we do the steps. Surprisingly—maybe not that surprising since he’s a trained dancer—Jimin and I manage to dance without making so many mistakes. It’s still new to him, so it’s understandable if he puts a wrong foot sometimes, but he also catches up quickly.

“One two three… One two three… One two three.” Our synchronization on the beat makes me chuckle. With Jimin, the dance seems so easy. So light. But with Yoongi… it’s insufferable.

The dance is supposed to end with a simple classical dip pose, but I lose my balance when I turn. Luckily, Jimin manages to hold me close. His arms wrap around me just in time. I laugh at the realization of my stupidness.

But then, someone clears their throat that makes us both freeze. My laugh dies out.

“Are we going to practice or what?” the very familiar voice says. Anyone would hear the indifference in his tone no matter how he conceals it. There’s a hint of annoyance in it—I can tell. And it’s… amusing.

I pull away from Jimin as I look back at him with a plain face. “We are.”

Yoongi doesn’t reply anymore, only putting his bag down. The second he’s settled, he steps toward us. “Why is he here?”

“He was helping me.”

“By hugging you?” He subtly smirks. “I guess you’d need some comfort.”

“So it was the only thing you saw?”

“Were you both doing something else?” His smirk drops as he cocks a brow,

At this point, I’m the one who smirks. “Nothing. Not that you’d want to know.”

“Exactly, you don’t have to tell me about the gross things you do,” he mutters loud enough.

“It’s not that gross since we were just using our bodies…” I falter my words, making sure that I’ll get the reaction I want from him. And to my luck, his eyes sharpen as his jaw clenches. “To dance. I asked him to practice our dance with me.”

He huffs as he looks away. “You don’t have to explain.”

“Oh, I’m not explaining. I’m just sharing.” I shrug, looking at him with a smug smile that he probably noticed when he stole a glance. “Anyway, I’m just gonna walk Jimin out.” I turn to Jimin and he already has his bag on him, lips on a thin line as he suppresses his laugh.

We both head to the door, and when we’re out of earshot from Yoongi, he whispers, “You’re messing with his head, huh?.”

“What? I didn’t lie.”

“Oh Y/n, you’re a menace.” And with a last chuckle, he bids a goodbye and closes the door.

This leaves me an hour of suffering from Yoongi.

“I hope you’re not hungry this time,” I say out loud as I walk towards him.

He shrugs. “I don’t think I am.”

“Well, I bet she fed you,” I reply before I can even stop myself.

“What?”

“What.?”

He stares at me, evidently annoyed and in disbelief. “I was too full from the food you gave, by the way.”

“So she did give you something…” I mutter, not being able to refrain myself from replying. At some point, I would have to cut my tongue.

“Not as childish as the ones you gave.”

For some reason, I can’t help but smile from his remark. I don’t know. It’s just… he saw the difference between me, and the model-tall and pretty girl. I feel unique.

It’s stupid.

“Then, let’s dance.” I hold out my hand, taking the lead this time. “I hope there’s nothing left to distract you.”

“No gloves?”

“None. So if you’re allergic to me, you’ll just have to put up with it.” I smugly shrug as I take his hand. “No. More. Distraction, hm?”

He lets out some light disbelieving chuckles. His other hand snakes to my waist. “I can’t promise that.”

(MYG POV)

Because too bad, you’re enough of a distraction.

An hour has passed, and so far, the mistakes have lessened. His mistakes have lessened, because my moves are fine as always. Our dance is almost perfect, if I must say.

“See? You don’t need to practice our dance with someone else,” he says right after we do our pose.

“Cocky.”

“Just honest.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “One more time?”

“Sure.” He shrugs. “I can dance all night.”

“Even if it’s with me?”

“Debatable.” He pauses, a subtle smirk plays on his lips. “‘Cause I think I’m starting to have a rash here.”

“Oh hush.” I roll my eyes as I sit on the piano bench. “Let’s take some rest.”

“Finally, you said something worth hearing.”

Surprisingly, he sits beside me.

“I thought you’re itching. Why are you sitting here beside me then?” 

“This is the closest chair, so? Got a problem?” He raises a brow, obviously playfully taunting.

“I will if…”

“If what?”

Contemplating whether to say it or not, I take the risk. “If you don’t play me a song.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Just when I’m resting, you’re asking me to play?”

“Yes, unless you’re too weak to do it.”

“You’re impossible.” He shakes his head as he turns to face the piano, making me grin in triumph. “Fine. Just one song.”

“Wow, you’re actually willing to play a song for the person you hate?” I intended to make it sound sarcastic, but it went more genuine.

“If it means I could show off my skill and make you realize I’m better than you, then why not?”

“Huh? Is that so?” I tilt my head as I gaze at him. “Then, impress me.”

“And what would I get if I… ‘impressed’ you?” he asks in a low voice, his hands hovering over the keys.

His question makes me ponder for a little while. “What do you want then?”

“You won’t be able to give it.”

“Why? Is it expensive?”

He lets out a weak chuckle as he looks away. “I wish, so then I can buy it.”

My teasing look slowly drops as I feel the heaviness in his words. “What is it that you want, Yoongi?”

He’s silent for a moment, until he says faintly, “You gone.” And with that, he turns his hands into fists as he stands up. “Rest time’s over. Let’s practice a few more times, then we go home,” the teasing and mocking in his voice is gone, leaving a stoic one.

That’s quite a switch up.

I respond no more as I don’t know where to stand after what he said. But sure heck it makes me feel terrible.

Why am I even surprised? This is the same Yoongi who blatantly told me he hates me. A little joking around won’t change our relationship in an instant.

Or maybe I’m not surprised by his words and actions. Maybe… Maybe I’m surprised because I felt a little hope in me.

A/N: I’m sorry for late update. I got so busy T^T. This chap was ready to be posted, but I always had something to do so I kept postponing it, my bad.

My usual routine plays as usual. Get up early, eat, prepare for school, then go to school. Nothing special in it except for the fact I had a long sleep. I guess arguing dancing with Yoongi had really exhausted me.

As I’m about to go out, I remember something. I head back to the kitchen, opening the snack cabinet.

“Is the food I prepared not enough?” my mom asks as she prepares Jungkook’s lunch.

“She’s a pig, mom,” Jungkook remarks as he munches like a pig. 

Look who’s talking.

“Let her. With a brain like hers, she’d need more.” My dad laughs as he puts down his newspaper, glancing at me. “Take everything you’ll need.”

I grin at his approval, shoving crackers and chips on my bag. “Thanks, dad.”

“Eh? You can’t take all that junk food.” My mom closes the cabinet, making me frown. I’ve only got five ‘junk foods’, it won’t be enough. “Here. Much healthier,” she says as she hands me a lunch bag.

“But that’s mine!” Jungkook whines.

“I’ll make you another one,” she says as she glances at him, giving him the ‘eyes’.

I’m about to refuse since I’ll look like I’m trying too much, but it’s getting late so I just accept it.

“Thanks, mom.” I smile at her, and bid goodbye to them again.

With two lunch bags in my hand, I head my way to the bus stop. It’s a good thing I’m right on time, or else I’d have to Peter Parker it again. I hop on and use my card to pay. There are still plenty of seats left, giving me a chance to sit by the window. I put the lunch bags on my lap, then I take out my mp3 player along with my earphones. I play Replay by Shinee. Even though it’s not a Bigbang song, I think the song is great. I like listening to it. 

The catchy beat makes me bop my head, keeping me fully awake. I start humming the song, and when the chorus comes, I quietly sing along. “누난 너무 예뻐… 미쳐… (Noona, you’re so pretty… Crazy…)” Although I’m not into younger boys, I still think it’ll be cute if someone thinks of me this way. “Replay, replay, replay.” Not knowing the next lyrics, I just continue humming.

I was told to stop listening to these kinds of songs because they’re too catchy. They say I might end up humming instead of remembering lessons during quizzes. Which is why I don’t listen to them whenever there’s an upcoming exam.

Before I can notice, the bus stops. I’ve reached the school. I head towards our classroom and I see that no one’s in here yet.

“Just on time.” I smirk as I go in. I’ve heard that Yoongi’s always the first student and I’m early enough to arrive before him—just how I wanted. 

I walk towards his table, putting down the lunch bags. Then, I take out my sticky paper and pen from my bag, and start writing.

(To Yoongi

 Eat all of this. 

 If you say you're hungry again before practice, I'll kill you.)

I open the bag to stick it on the lunch box. After that, I closed the bag and put it on his chair. I also take out the chips and crackers I’ve brought and put them beside it. I look around, making sure no one sees me before going outside. I’m going to roam around the school for the meantime, so that when he comes and sees my ‘gift’, I won’t have to face him right away.

As I’m wandering around, I notice that there’s a small graden near the first year’s building. I haven’t really visited every nook of the school, which is why it’s my first time to see this spot. The boy who’s watering the plants notices me, giving me a smile. His dimples are cutely showing.

“Hi,” he greets.

“Uh hi.” I smile back, slightly waving at him. 

“You like flowers?” he asks as he walks toward me.

“Yeah. I think they’re fine.”

He hums as he nods. “You like them but not enough to be your favorite…?”

“Yes,” I reply as I lightly chuckle.

He chuckles as well, and picks a flower. “동백꽃 (Camellia flower),” he says as he gives it to me. “The last one since winter. Pretty strong flower if you ask me. Well, someone’s been taking great care of it.”

“Then—is it okay if I take it?”

“Of course. He’d be happy to know someone got his flower,” he reassures, fondly looking at me.

“Thank you. It’s pretty…” I smell it a bit, making me nod as I bite back a smile. “And doesn’t smell anything.”

He laughs heartedly at my remark. “They are really scent-less compared to other flowers. Oh and by the way, I’m Namjoon. You?” He holds his hand out. 

I take his hand and gently shake it, then we pull back. A simple interaction but somehow it makes me feel shy. “Y/n.”

“So you are Y/n…” he mutters but I still catch it. 

Why does everyone seem to know me?

“Nice to meet you.” He smiles. “Seems like you’re an early bird too,” he jokes, probably referring to what could I possibly be doing at school this early. 

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Just today. I had something to do.”

“You know, you can hang out here in the garden—or help,” he offers. “I think the plants are getting tired of me.”

“But… They’re all blooming.” I look around with awe written in my face. “My old school didn’t have a garden like this. This is beautiful. I don’t think the plants are tired of you.”

He chuckles as he gives a carefree shrug. “Well, I’m not the only one who takes care of them. Speaking of, I’ll have to continue. I hope you like the flower.”

“I do.”

“Then, see you around.” He smiles at me before going back to what he was doing.

“See you around…” I wave at him and turn around.

Then as I continue to walk, I can’t help but fiddle the flower on my fingers, still blushing like an idiot.

>>>

I decide to go back to our classroom since it’s about time. The second I step inside, Yoongi glances at me with a scowl—nothing unusual—and then his gaze goes toward the flower in my hand. His brows twitch as he looks back at me. A subtle smirk plays on his lips before looking away.

I frown at him, getting an odd feeling from his reaction. But anyway, I shrug it off, walking towards my table. Jimin’s already here, smiling at me as I put my bag down.

“I saw that,” he says quietly, grinning.

“What?”

“You stared at each other before you went here. What was that about?”

“Nosy.”

“Is the lunch bag connected?”

“What do you mean?” I play pretend, tilting my head at him.

Jimin sighs as he eyes me. “When I came here, he had been staring at it. His expression was quite… unreadable. He only put it away when he noticed you were coming.”

“So?”

“Did you give it to him?”

I huff out a laugh, playfully smacking him on his arm—harder than I should’ve. “Silly. I—I was outside. Like, I literally just came here.”

Damn, I should learn to lie better.

Although honestly, I don’t know why I’m lying either. I mean—it’s Jimin. He knows what’s going on between Yoongi and I. I guess my pride just doesn’t want to acknowledge that I gave Yoongi something. Food even.

“O…kay…” Jimin clicks his tongue, then his eyes shift to the flower I’ve been holding. “What’s that?” 

“This? Uh, some garden boy gave this to me. Cute, don’t you think?” I show off my flower to him as I chuckle.

“The flower or the flower boy?” He teases loudly that our classmates in front of us look.

“Someone has a crush on Y/n or Y/n has a crush?” Rin smiles mischievously at me. 

I steal a glance at Jimin with panic and then decide to ask her, “How long have you two been listening?”

“A while? But we only heard about the garden boy ‘cause you were whispering earlier,” Jiyoung answers as she grins.

 “Nosy,” I say again, this time, to them. I’m just relieved that they didn’t hear our conversation about that demon cat.

Can’t everyone here mind their own business?

Jiyoung puts her hands up in a mocking surrender. “Not our fault you guys are so loud.”

“Anyway, you said ‘garden boy’, right?” Rin asks.

“Yeah…?”

“You must be talking about Namjoon then,” she replies.

“H-How did you know?”

She shrugs. “He’s usually the only one who takes care of the garden—along with Yoongi.”

“Along with who?” I ask, just in case I heard her wrong.

“Yoongi. Our president. The guy ‘who-has-it-all’.” She then chuckles, looking around before leaning closer to me. “But honestly, I think he’s just doing it for grades,” she whispers.

“You can get added grades from it??” Nevermind Yoongi and Namjoon might know each other. I’m now more interested about the plus grades they give.

“Yeah. Every time you join actively in a guild, you get added grades. Like this, when you always help in taking care of the garden, the teacher in charge notices you, and they'll give you Chips. You collect Chips, you redeem them at the end of the semester.” She shrugs again, looking annoyed by the system. “Too much sweat, that's why I don’t join at all. Also, why don’t you know that? We were briefed on the first day.”

“Dumbo, she came here late, remember?” Rin sasses as she flicks Jiyoung on her forehead.

“Anyway, that’s how things work here,” Jiyoung finishes.

At the realization of it, I turn to look at Jimin. “You? Where did you join?”

“The Academy Movement Collective, the Catalyst Circle, and the Integral League,” he replies casually.

“What do you do in those exactly?”

“Contemporary dancing, science, math stuff.” He grins, wiggling his brows.

I frown even more. “Wait—you dance?”

“Yep. Since middle school, why?”

“I know now how you can help me…” A smirk slowly creeps to my face as I realize another thing. But before I do what I have in mind, I’ll sign up for everything first. I only hope they still take newcomers.

(MYG POV)

“What absurdity is this now?” I chuckle as I read her note. I look around, checking if anyone’s here. But no, just me and this lunch bag along with snacks. 

From what’s written on the note, I can tell it’s her. Y/n. I mean—who else has the guts to threaten me?

I take out the lunch box and open it, still amused by her shenanigans. My grin only widens at the sight. I didn’t know she’d put much effort in something like this. The food has cute animal designs on them. Something you’d see on those cringy dramas where the girl likes the guy.

Does she like me or something?

I chuckle at my thought, shaking my head as it’s too impossible. 

“Cute though.” The food. I’m talking about the food. And definitely not imagining the picture of her making me lunch. Because, that would be so weird. 

So I’m not.

I put it back, clearing my head before sitting down. I’m going to tolerate her scheme for now. I’ll eat the food she made later. Simply because I don’t like wasting food—and not because I’m thinking of her effort when she made those.

But as I mention it…I’m kind of thinking the latter. Or maybe not. Yeah, definitely not. I just lack sleep. That’s all. That’s why I’m sort of a mess.

“I really hate her…”

The class ends in a blink of an eye. My papers are all scattered on our table—Jimin doesn’t mind, saying he was still able to write on his side a little. I like writing down every important thing that our teacher says, in case I forget. I may be smart, but I also have a short term memory. And I’m messy as hell.

I exasperatedly sigh as I shove my papers to my bag. Jimin knows that there’s no point in asking me to eat lunch with him, so he just goes, bidding me a goodbye. I prefer to eat alone—more like I got used to it.

For the first few weeks of my stay here, I was busy finishing my requirements. That is why, I wasn’t really socializing with anyone. Except for Jimin sometimes. And I think there is one unspoken rule that people miss. 

Our time is limited.

It took not more than two weeks for my classmates to have their own circle of friends. And usually, to be part of them, you have to be friendly before the time runs out. Something I failed to do. Not that I’m complaining. In fact, I didn’t plan to have friends this school year. 

I love my own company, but sometimes… I wish my friends were here. My actual friends. Not just classmates.

Don’t get me wrong. My classmates tried to befriend me—I didn’t. 

Simply because I’m not that desperate young girl anymore. I’m not desperate for attention and connection. I’ve learned to be fine on my own. I guess… I just grew up. 

Because if we’re talking about my old self, she was sad. The first weeks in junior year, she craved to build a relationship with the new people, yet it progressed too long. Well, at least, there was progress. She met Chaeyoung, Sana, and other great people. 

She became close to Chaeyoung first because they’re both obsessed with Bigbang. And she became close to Sana because they were seatmates and they just clicked—kinda because of close proximity.

They are both fun to be with, which is why they are still my friends. 

I also have other friends, but I think I can literally count them with my fingers. It’s just, making and keeping friends is not my talent. Though the ones who stayed? I can say without a doubt that I’m grateful to be their friend—and them to be mine.

Anyway, if we’re talking about the present me… I’m quite meh. 

The first few days I came here, they sat with me, asking my name and interests. Most of the time, I simply replied to them. Direct and short. Forced out a smile, nodded to whatever they say, listened to them while keep glancing at my work. Until… the silence came and none of us had something to say. And they’ll just leave.

It was awkward, but funnily interesting.

One time, when I was still doing my requirements, Jimin told me that since Taehyung and he are best friends, it meant that we’re best friends too. I didn’t know how to react so I just responded, “Ah… haha..” then continued awkwardly chuckling and smiling at him. Glanced at him for a second before gluing myself to my work. I was still busy, so I was just giving him half of my attention.

It’s not their fault that I’m like this. I just prefer to use my time in school wisely—finish the homework that I can finish. And I like to set boundaries. Not all my classmates are my friends, but most of my friends were my classmates.

The friendship trial has long ended. It’ll be too awkward now if I join their circles. They have their own inside jokes that will be too risky to tell me.

There’s always a time limit in everything.

But I wish I'd realized it sooner. 

So now, whenever we’re told to write for our classmates, I just write for Jimin. He might not be my friend—yet—but he’s my closest classmate. Maybe we’ll be best friends too in the future. He’s starting to hang out in our house more after all.

But I still miss my girl friends…

They would’ve pestered me to eat with them. We’d be the loudest in the class. Shameless and always laughing at things. We’d roam around the school finding cute boys, rating them and giving them nicknames. We’d hang out after school, go to the mall even though we told my parents that we’re going to practice or make a project. Just stupid things to keep our lives thrilling.

I once skipped a class—with Chaeyoung—because we didn’t like the student teacher. I thought she was dumb. Anyway, our conscience ate us up and we attended five minutes before the class ended. I don’t even think our actual teacher at that time knows about it. And again, the student teacher was sort of stupid. So, she didn’t mind us.

There was also a time where I ‘unknowingly’ mocked her when she suddenly called my name. It was mean, I know. I didn’t care, and I still don’t. 

Spring 2007

I’m not paying attention to whatever she’s teaching—more like reading, since she’s not discussing it at all. So, there’s no point in listening. Besides, it’s English. A basic subject. I can answer the test paper with my eyes closed—as long as I have a stock knowledge about it.

Chaeyoung is on my right, ignoring all my yapping. But not Sana—who’s on my left. She’s giggling at whatever I say, even replying. I get too lost in our gossiping that I freeze when the S.T. calls my name.

”Y/n, can you give me an example of a Function word?” she says as she walks toward our table. The class goes silent, their eyes on us. 

I steal a glance at Chaeyoung who just stares back at me. I stand up, keeping myself composed as I think of an answer.

What the hell is a function?! 

It’s not entirely my fault that I don’t know the answer because I wasn’t listening. If only the way she’s teaching is interesting, then maybe I might’ve listened.

Just think of a word, Y/n… What could the answer be?…

I look at her, keeping myself looking calm and unbothered. “And…?” I answer quietly, though it sounds like a question.

“Again?” 

“And,” I say, quite louder this time.

”Did you say ‘and’?” 

I nod, unfazed—pretending to be.

She then nods, looking dumbfounded. “That’s correct. Sit down...”

I subtly smirk and arrogantly sit down. She must’ve thought that she could embarrass me, well she thought wrong.

Ain’t I such a genius?

Even though my answer is only a guess—it’s still a win for me.

But then, she turns to Sana. “Can you give me another example, Sana?”

She slowly stands up, wearing a weary smile. She glances at me, and as her friend, I try to think of another example even if I don’t know what a function is.

Trying to play it safe, I think of a word that is similar to ‘and’. Once I have something in mind, I shift a little to secretly mouth, “Also.” I mouth it multiple times before she gets it. 

I’m quite confident about it since I was correct earlier, so I comfortably sit back.

Then, with Sana’s trust in me, she answers, “Also.”

”Wrong.”

Uh—what?

“It’s not a function. Sit down.” She then continues to ‘teach’ but as usual, I still don’t care. Only now, I’m pretending to listen.

I glance at Sana, smiling at her apologetically as I whisper, “My bad. Sorry.”

“Quit chatting me up,” she whispers back with a huff.

I only stifle a chuckle. The event is still quite funny after all.

>>>

The boring and dumb S.T. is gone, and now we’re just talking about what happened.

”That’s why I was ignoring you,” Chaeyoung says. “Girl, she had been looking at our table.”

”Then Jeon even gave her an attitude,” Jiyeon says as she laughs. She likes calling me by my last name for some reason.

“What? When did I do that?” I play pretend, furrowing my brows at them.

”Yeahhh,” Aecha—also our classmate—agrees, laughing. “You were looking so smugly at her.”

”Was I?” Oh yeah, I was.

“You looked so bored and intimidating at the same time,” Chaeyoung adds, grinning. “When you answered right, in my head I was like—‘that’s my girl, that’s my girl’.” She hypes up, making me break into laughter too.

“You’re so cool, Jeon. That’s why you’re my idol.” Jiyeon grins at me.

I roll my eyes at her obvious satire compliment, biting back a smile.

”What about me?” Sana says as she pouts. “It’s because this one won’t stop talking to me.”

I chuckle at her. “I’m sorry, okay?”

”Whatever.” She rolls her eyes and I only grin at her feign anger.

I only hope that the students she’s teaching now are actually learning from her. But really—how did she even graduate? It’s not just that she sucks at teaching, she also said it herself that she doesn’t like teaching. I pity her future students.

Well, it was all in Junior High, but now that I’m a Senior, in this class, I’m even considered as quiet, always asleep, and always busy with things. Always in her own world. Which is fine. As I said, I like being alone. 

My trails of thoughts get cut off by the screech sound of a chair getting moved. Usually, I’m alone in the classroom during lunch since they’re all in the cafeteria. Which is why the sound alone startles me. But the one who caused it? Stupefying.

Yoongi sits in front of me, putting the lunch bag on the table as he looks at me blankly.

”What are you doing?” I ask, dumbfounded.

He settles the lunch box, opening it before answering. “Eating.”

”Why here?”

”Because it’s embarrassing.”

”What?”

”I can’t eat this with them.”

”Why?” I frown as he’s not making sense. 

He clicks his tongue. “Too many questions,” he says as he takes a bite of his food. 

Then, I glance at his lunch, and realize what he means. My mom made those stupid cute foods for Jungkook again. I mentally facepalm myself in shame.

Does he think I made those for him?

“Fine. Last question. Why do you have to eat here? At my table.”

”Nuh-uh.” He gulps. “This is yours and Jimin’s table. And I’m on his side.”

I let out a frustrated sigh while he munches, looking so unbothered. “You know what I mean.”

”Fine. You’re pitiful. Eating alone.”

I snort. ”I don’t need your pity,” I spit, making him raise his brow.

”Do you really think I’d pity someone like you?” His eyes sharpen at me. “Mrs. Choi noticed that you’ve been eating alone. So she asked me to eat with you. Just this once.”

I should’ve just eaten with Jimin.

“Besides, at least if I die because you put poison in this, it’s easier to point at you,” he says as he takes another spoonful.

I look at him in grimace, eyes sharpening. ”If I had put poison in it, you wouldn’t be able to move another muscle after it touched your tongue.”

He snorts, looking amused at my taunt. “Geez. A psychopath… I’ll add that to the list.”

“Says the opportunist,” I bite back as I take out my own lunch.

After multiple remarks about each other, we eat in silence, refusing to even look at each other. But I won’t lie, I steal glances from time to time. The fact that we’re eating with each other still gives me an annoying fluttery feeling.

Next

Entering the music room, I see Yoongi’s already inside. He’s playing a very beautiful melody on the piano with his back facing me. He plays it like a professional—something even me can’t do. I never heard of a piece like this. A piece that even Beethoven, Chopin, and Liszt would wish they could also play—an exaggeration, of course. Even with my annoyance towards him, I can’t help but feel fascinated as I watch.

Then suddenly, he stops. “Are you gonna stand there all day?”

He pops the ‘balloon of admiring’ with his cold and grounded voice. I almost melted with how sweet the melody is. Almost. Until he lets his grumpy mouth speak, reminding me of who’s playing it.

How can someone so bitter, play the sweetest melody?

I clear my throat, striding towards him. “I was just waiting for you to finish,” I reply with the same indifference.  

Yoongi stands up, taking the piano sheets and shoving it in his bag before facing me. “Wait here,” is all he says before leaving me again.

What’s his deal now?I put my bag down on the floor, sighing as I feel annoyed. After a few more moments, he comes back with a radio cassette recorder, making me frown in confusion.

Vintage.

“What’s this for?”

“For our music, what else?”

I roll my eyes at his sarcasm—though it makes sense.

I stand idly on the side as I watch him turn on the gadget and put the cassette tape inside. The silence is rather awkward than peaceful. I guess this happens when there’s tension between two people. 

But still, I keep myself quiet, knowing he might just ignore whatever I say—and I definitely won’t give him that satisfaction.

Yoongi clears his throat as he turns to me. “Have you thought of the steps?”

“Of course,” I say, taking out a small notebook from my backpack. “For the simple parts, I have Left Box turn, Change step, Balance step, hmm…Turning Rock. Then, to level it up a little, Face to Face, and Ladies Underarm turn. We can repeat some of the steps until the song ends.” I click my tongue as I look back at him. “I haven’t thought of the arrangements of the steps because you might have a suggestion. Thoughts?”

He holds out his hand, blankly looking at me. I furrow my brows, and out of confusion, I give my hand.

“The notebook, dullard.” He sharply removes his hand from me, putting it down. I look down in shame, and I catch his fingers curl slightly as if the touch has disgusted him too much. He puts his hand on his back when he notices that I’m looking. “The notebook?” he asks again, reaching out with his other hand.

I give it to him and he annoyingly snatches it. From his pocket, he takes out his pen and starts writing. I stay quiet as he writes, stealing glances from time to time. After a moment or so, he gives it back to me.

I read what he writes, amused by it. He arranges the steps I’ve listed, making a complete choreography.

“I added Tuck turn, Wrap, and Unwrap in that sequence as a combo,” he says, rubbing his nape.

“But won’t I be dizzy in that?”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll guide you.”

As if I’ll need it. 

“Forget it. I can manage.” I give him a smile—of course a fake one. “Let’s start then.” I take out my cotton gloves from my pocket and wear them. Although my hands sweat easily in closed spaces, I bring them just to spite him. 

“What is that for?”

“Well, I…” I clear my throat, smugly looking up at him. “I figured that since you hate me so much, you’re allergic to me. So, here.” I keep a smile as I watch his brows furrow.

“Drop it, Y/n.”

“What? I’m doing us both a favor.”

“Stop being childish,” he says with gritted teeth.

I huff. “Me? Childish? You’re the one who started this dispute. And I tell you what, the feeling is very much mutual.” I smirk, stepping closer. “I hate you.”

“Huh.” His brows twitch and a mocking grin spreads across his face as he crosses his arms. “I hate you more. I hate you more than you can ever think.”

“Nuh-uh. I hate you a thousand more.”

He snorts as he shakes his head. Then as he looks back at me, he leans his face a little closer. “You might beat me at other things, but you can’t beat me when it comes to hating you.”

“You can never be sure, Yoongi. I might beat you in that too.”

Our smirks fades, leaving a look of disdain towards each other.

“I really really hate you,” he says firmly.

“I do too. I hate you so much.”

A second passes by and he holds out his hand once again. “Let’s dance.” He pulls back as he sighs. “Your hand? We’re wasting time instead of practicing.”

“And whose fault is that,” I mutter under my breath as I disdainfully put my hand on his, keeping the gloves on.

He scoffs, reaching for the recorder to play the tape. “I’ll count along with the song. You know the steps, right?”

Why does he have to lead me? 

Regardless of my pride, I keep myself quiet and nod.

“Okay…” He sighs and presses the play button. Soon, the song starts. “One… Two… Three. One… Two… Three. One… Two…”

>>>

“AH!” I yelp when he steps on me once again. “It hurts!” I crouch down to check my foot.

“You’re dramatic. You stepped on me thrice, I didn’t complain.”

“Oh you didn’t?” I huff. “Maybe because I don’t weigh like a thousand pounds!” I bite back, standing up again. “Why does she have to partner me with you…” I mutter.

He huffs out a laugh, obviously hearing it. “Everyone would die to be my partner.”

“Yeah.” I snort. “With your dance skills? They’d in fact die.”

“Hush, you’re the one who stepped on me thrice,” he repeats, making me laugh like a maniac.

“Simply because you keep doing the wrong step! How can something simple like this be so hard for you?”

“It’s not hard for me.” He scoffs. “I-I’m just distracted.”

“From what? It’s just the two of us.”

“I—uhm. I’m hungry. My stomach’s growling,” he says, his face going red.

I look at him deadpan, not expecting his excuse to be so shallow. “Fine. Let’s just go home. It’s getting late too.”

“Good call.” He nods in agreement as he rubs the back of his neck.

“But you better be in your best shape tomorrow. We’re so left behind.”

He nods again as his response. I guess he ran out of words from his vocabulary.

I roll my eyes as I take my bag. I don’t wait for him and leave completely, not even caring the slightest. 

As soon as I get home, I see Taehyung playing a videogame with Jungkook in the living room.

“How did it go?” Taehyung asks teasingly.

“Awful.” 

“Really?”

“What did you expect? I’m partnered with him.” I huff as I plop myself on the couch.

“Exactly, you’re partnered with him.” As he glances at me, he winks.

By the mention of it, I’m reminded of how nervous I was the first moments I danced with him. How his smell was even more intoxicating up close. And how soft his voice was when guiding me.

Though, it only happened in the first few moments. The atmosphere completely changed when I stepped on his foot.

I shake my head, shuddering at the memory. “Still awful.”

“Who’s what?” Jungkook butts in.

“No one.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes at me. He doesn’t like it when he’s not part of conversation, an easy way to rile him up. “I’m gonna tell dad you have a boyfriend.”

“Then tell him his name is Kim Taehyung.”

The two frown at me, making me smirk. If I tell our dad that I’m dating Taehyung, he surely won’t be around here anymore soon. A fine leverage for them.

Honestly, I sometimes wonder who Taehyung's best friend actually is. I’m starting to think he befriended me to play with my brother.

“I’m so tired,” I yawn loudly, annoying them more. “I’m off to sleep. Don’t let him play too much, Taehyung-ah,” I say as I stand up, and he nods as a response. 

“You’re not the boss!” Jungkook shouts, but I’m already making my way to my room. 

The second I step foot in my room, I change my clothes to my sleeping wear. I’m too tired to eat, or study—or even wash my face and brush my teeth. Besides, I won’t lose my teeth right away if I miss one night.

I throw myself on my bed, inhaling the sweet chemical scent of it.

I wish this smells like him…

“What…?! Eugh!” I shudder at the thought that suddenly came to me. “I better sleep before I lose my mind.”

(MYG POV)

Her hand was soft… Much smaller than mine… But somehow sits perfectly on it.

‘Ring! Ring!’ The sound of my timer cuts my thoughts off, waking me from it.

“What asininity am I thinking?” I shake my head in disgust, hoping those thoughts would get out of my mind. An hour has passed since I started the timer, making me realize how much time I wasted. I’ve been staring at my hand that I have completely ignored my study notes in front of me.

“It was… One. Touch.” I breathe in deeply, calming my nerves. “Get it together.”

Despite getting sleepy, I force myself to review my notes, but the closeness we had earlier has altered my brain. How come all I’m thinking right now is how she looked being so close to me? How she couldn’t keep her eyes on me. And how I couldn’t either.

Next

“Gosh, he’s the worst,” I groan as I roll off my bed to get a slice of pizza Taehyung brought.

Jimin and Taehyung are hanging out at our house right now. They’re simply keeping me company since Jungkook still hasn’t come home, but who am I to complain? One is my best friend, the other is my seatmate. There’s not much difference between them: both get under my nerves.

But not as much as Yoongi. A person whom I barely know yet I can already list a hundred of beautiful awful things about. 

“Who?” Taehyung asks, wiping off the hot sauce on his lips.

Jimin laughs and taps our friend. “Oh, I forgot to tell you about him.” Still laughing. “A guy in our class—no, not just any guy. Our class president-slash-captain in our school’s basketball team-slash-leader of Ambitious Representative MC for Youth-and slash-a musical genius Min Yoongi, is making it his life goal to act indifferently around her.”

“Ooh, like annoying her? ‘Cause we’d be the best of friends if that’s the case.” Taehyung laughs as he high-fives Jimin.

“Yeah… No,” Jimin clarifies. “But bet, Y/n wishes that he’d annoy her like you do.”

I stare at Jimin, raising a brow as I do. “What are you trying to imply?”

He rolls his eyes at me as if the answer is literally in front of us but I choose to ignore. “I’m not an idiot. I saw how you look at him. You like him.”

Caught red-handed, I tear my gaze away from him. I’m such a bad actress when it comes to lying about these things. “I-I, uh… What do you mean? That’s not—Ew! What?! Gross. That’s… absurd. Like, me and him—”

“You said everything but ‘no’...” Taehyung cuts me off. “So you do like him.” A grin slowly creeps on his face, but it drops suddenly. “Wait, then—you’re not gay? I mean, I’d totally unde—”

I throw a pillow at him, interrupting him from talking any nonsense. “I’m not gay!” I exclaim, facepalming myself in frustration. “Gosh, I’m never beating those gay allegations, am I?”

Both of them laugh at me, and I laugh a little too. It’s truly funny how at least every once in a year someone asks me if I’m straight. No—asking is a humble way to describe it. They simply assume it for some reason. Despite how much makeup I sometimes put on, or how shyly I act around new people, at least one person in a group of seven people would assume that I’m a girl kisser.

Though, I can’t blame them if their girls would prefer me over their asses. I’m just that girl.

“I know. I was kidding. And it works everytime,” Taehyung teases as he winks at me. 

“Well, it’s not funny,” I scold him. “We’re not kids anymore, Tae. Obviously, sometimes… I also get self-conscious about these things. Like…why don't guys ask me out…”  Like why a certain person hates me so much that he’d rather talk back to the teacher than accept me as his partner.

“But didn’t a guy named Myungjae ask you out and court you in ninth grade?” 

“That’s different. And it only lasted for three days,” I argue. “Do I even have to remind you why he did it in the first place?”

Jimin looks puzzled between us. “Wait, come on, let me in with your inside joke too.” 

“Right after Y/n turned him down—on the third day, because she was getting anxious that her parents would find out since in the first place, she was not allowed to date,” Taehyung explains as he eyes me. “Anyway, she hated him because he did something that was part of their rules when he was courting her. Can you believe that? She listed seven rules, only to dump the guy on the third day through text.”

“Long text,” I amend. “And even if he wasn’t courting me anymore when he did that, those rules still apply.”

“What did he do?” Jimin asks, munching another slice of pizza as he enjoys our storytelling.

“He sent a friend request to Mr Jeon,” Taehyung answers for me.

“Y/n’s dad? What’s wrong with it?”

I sigh exasperatedly, as if the answer isn’t so obvious. “It was part of our rule. No connecting or even interacting with my family without me knowing. Can you blame me? Have you seen my parents?”

Jimin nods, then shrugs like what I’ve just said is nothing. “Yeah. They’re pretty sweet.”

“To you. To every guest.” Except for their own children. 

My parents aren’t abusive or anything, it only happened that they’re hardcores when it comes to parenting us. Which explains why within those three days I was so nervous going home, terrified if they found out. 

“Do you want me to continue or…” Taehyung looks at me, and I give him a small nod, gesturing to him to continue the rest. “So, while she was doing her chores, her dad suddenly called her and asked if she knew any Myungjae. If he’s her classmate, and if he’s courting her.”

“Oof…” Jimin winces in pain as he hears Taehyung explain. “That straightforward?”

“That straightforward…” I can only mumble.

“Then our worst actress of the year when it comes to lying suddenly spills everything,” Taehyung mocks, sneering as he does.

Groaning, I reach out for the soda. “What did you expect me to do? I was caught red-handed!”

“Not really. Your dad was only asking. You could’ve brushed it off,” Taehyung argues. I only roll my eyes at him in response, and he laughs. “Anyways, surprisingly, her dad just laughed it off and insulted Myungjae’s looks.” He shrugs. “Then a lot of things happened, yada-yada, the guy still wanted her, yada-yada… Then, while she and Sana were hanging out at another’s friend’s house—which is Myungjae’s friend too—she said something that changed everything.” He pauses, probably for a dramatic intensity. “She said that she once asked why he liked Y/n, then he answered—‘Because I was insecure. Everyone in our friend group has a girl, and I don’t.’”

“So, he lied about everything he said when he confessed—saying he liked me for over a year and just had the courage then. And in fact, he actually liked my seatmate—not me,” I continue telling the story. My emotions turn into solemn once again while it replays in my head. 

I remember crying in the bathroom after sending that long text message because I really felt bad about rejecting him right away. I felt so guilty ending it and not giving him more chances. Murmuring apologies while I silently cry. It was stupid—I didn’t even like him. 

Then, it turned out everything was a lie.

Although, Myungjae and I are on good terms now—I think. Hating someone makes me physically and mentally exhausted, so I decided to let everything go.

Some people might think that my reason is quite petty or shallow. But they’re not me. If only they’re wearing my shoes, they’d understand. 

Everyone around me seems to at least have dated someone. The dumb, the smart, the rich, the poor, the mean, the kind, the pretty—even the ugly ones. They all somehow had a fling. Someone that contacted them and tried to make the first move. Meanwhile, I have none. My message inbox is clearer than the sky—if we don’t count my friends, families, and annoying classmates who constantly ask for notes.

“Did you…ask him about it? If it was true?” Jimin quietly asks, noticing my reaction.

Nodding, I give him a small smile. “He said he didn’t say such things, but our friend still stands with what she knows. She even said—to our faces— ‘If you want to believe this liar, feel free.’ So that's pretty much it.” I shrug as I shake my head. “It’s fine. You don’t have to feel bad for me. I moved on and I didn’t even like him. I was just… Let’s say that my ego got hurt.”

Taehyung raises a brow as he crosses his arm on his chest. “Just your ego? Are you sure you didn’t spend the rest of the week questioning yourself and thinking of every insecurities that you could think of?”

“Well—That also…” I mumble. 

After a moment of silence, Jimin breaks it by his loud humming, followed by his clapping. “I think I know why.”

“Know what?” Taehyung and I say in unison to which we laugh and high-five.

“Know why most guys don’t flirt with you,” he states. “Look, I have only known you personally for almost a month, and from this story… I think I can say that you’re too intense for an average guy.”

I scoff, offended by what he thinks of me. “‘Too… intense’?”

“Which is a compliment,” he quickly adds. “You see, with this trait, manipulators don’t have a chance with you.”

I huff out a laugh. What he’s saying definitely doesn’t make sense to me. “How did you even end up thinking I’m ‘too intense’ ” I quote his own words as I make a mocking quotation mark gesture. 

“Giving rules to a guy? It’s great but unusual. Also, you’re kinda… boyish. The type to scare away boys with your swag. Also, you’re smart. Like really smart. And…you barely approach anyone. You’re always busy with something, and would barely interact with our classmates,” Jimin replies with a slight shrug.

“Right. Even internet speaking, your internet friends are less than a hundred and you have at least a thousand friend requests,” Taehyung adds, but we both know the ‘thousand friend request’ is just for exaggeration.

I frown at them, confused by what they mean. “So what? I’m not interested in them anyways.”

“Then why are you whining about having no one approaching you?” Taehyung irritably questions me.

“Because it’d still feel nice knowing that someone likes me romantically.”

The two of them only slowly shake their heads at me, probably surprised, disbelieving, and disgusted.

“Anyways, going back to your archenemesis, I’m honestly surprised that he didn’t suggest cutting your wrist off to remove the handcuff,” Jimin remarks.

I scoff, making them look at each other with suppressed laughs. “Bet that’s what he was thinking.”

“This Yoongi guy seems like a real problem, huh? Want me to back you up?” Taehyung bumps his shoulder onto mine with a big proud grin.

“Back me up how?”

“I can go to your school and act like your big brother. I’ll just scare him off a bit,” Taehyung replies.

This time, Jimin and I suppressed our laughs. The whole thought is idiotic—he wouldn’t even carry a dog out of the couch because he’d be worried that he might bother it. Now, scaring a kid a year older than him? I just hope he's heaven's favorite. But his offer is tempting, there is still a chance that this might work.

“Fine. Meet me after school.” 

This can be very fun, or very stressful.

>>>

Ashtonbury Academy has strict rules that every student must obey. One of the rules is anyone that is not a student is prohibited to get inside the school premises unless given a keypass. Which is why Taehyung’s plan almost seemed impossible until I did one of the things he asked. I simply asked for a keypass from the nicest teacher I know and she gave it to me without any question why. To which I kinda find odd but couldn’t care less.

“I still can’t believe that worked,” I tell Taehyung as the security lets him in. 

Instead of his usual school uniform, he has changed into a more casual outfit: black tee over long sleeves, jeans, and converse. The typical teenage dirtbag outfit. His hair is more disheveled than usual too—not exactly messy, just loosely curled, with his bangs slightly swept on the side. 

And to my surprise, he seems to be wearing makeup too.

“I didn’t know that when you said you’d act like my big brother… you meant dress-up as Rodrick Heffley—but with long sleeves,” I say as I scan him from head to toe. “And—are you wearing eyeliner?” I lean in to get a closer look to which he quickly steps back.

“Can’t you just be glad you have a friend willing to help you?” He cocks a brow as he crosses his arms.

“Alrighty, Rodrick.” I raise my hands in a pretend surrender while I stifle a laugh at his confused look.

“Who?”

“No one. Just a very nice character from a movie—that’s technically based on a book.” My teasing can’t even land as it was supposed to when I ran my smartass mouth. “Forget it. Let’s just go.”

Taehyung doesn’t say another thing and lets me lead the way. Yoongi should still be at our classroom since he’s part of the assigned cleaners for today. And yes, even the one of the finest schools in Korea makes their students clean their classrooms. It’s their way to make us responsible and disciplined. 

As we get closer to our room, I can’t help but feel my stomach churning out of nervousness. Especially when every student we pass by, they stare at us with…admiration? Confusion? Disgust?

Why these three emotions? Simply because first, Taehyung has an eye-catching face. It’s not new to me to see people practically drool over him, and I won’t even try to deny that even I think he looks good. If only we didn’t see each other’s awkward phases and practically treat each other like siblings, then maybe I’d like him too in that way. But honestly, the thought of it alone is enough to give me the heebie-jeebies.

Secondly, these students are surely confused about who this new face is and how he got in. And thirdly, Taehyung’s outfit isn’t really school appropriate—at least for them. There’s no written or verbal rule that a guest must wear something specific.

I stop in front of our classroom and I instantly catch a view of him through the window. He’s arranging the chairs along with our other classmates who are sweeping the floor.

“So, which one is he? That one dude?” He points at someone and I quickly shake my head. “What about that one? Or that one? Or tha—”

“Stop pointing at them!” I whisper-shout at him. “It’s starting to look like I brought you here to beat someone.”

Taehyung drops his arms and turns to look at me. “Isn’t that the whole point of this?”

“Wha—No.” I snort, crossing my arms. “You really think you can beat him up? May I remind you that I think he’s part of a gang?”

He only sighs and rolls his eyes at me as his initial response. Then, it seems like there is a magical bulb in his head that suddenly lights up. “I got an idea. We go inside of the classroom. You, take your bag, while I pretend to help you and I’ll accidentally bump into him—”

“Is there a problem here?”

My whole body instantly freezes when I hear his voice. I got too distracted by Taehyung’s stupid idea that I forgot that anyone from the inside can also see us.

I refuse to move and turn to look at him, praying to the God above that I’m just hearing things.

“Nothing,” Taehyung smoothly says as he chuckles. “But, can you tell me which of them is Yoongi?”

“I am Yoongi,” he bluntly answers.

Please kill me now!

“You’re what?” Taehyung’s expression drops as he hears what he said.

“My name is Min Yoongi. I’m this classroom’s president,” he says. “May I know why you’re looking for me?”

Closing my eyes tight shut, I take a deep breath before facing him with a wide fake smile. “Uh, hi…!”

Yoongi doesn’t even acknowledge my presence, keeping his eyes on the boy beside me.

“So, you’re Yoongi—the president…” Taehyung sighs as he smiles at him again. “I’m honestly just here to see if my little sis is in good hands.”

“‘Little sis’… huh?” Yoongi mutters, and I’m pretty sure I’m not hallucinating when I see him subtly smirk. The corner of his lips raises faintly, but noticeable for me. Not that I’m saying that I was looking on his lips or anything because—that would be so weird. So I wasn’t. “You have nothing to be worried about. Ashtonbury only accepts the elites. Both in academics and morals,” he says, this time, with a more gentle fake smile. The ones people wear in commercials—perfect and scripted. The one I’d also wear given the situation. 

Morals my foot. 

“Cool! That’s cool,” Taehyung exclaims. “‘Cause… I’d hate it if ever someone mistreats my sister.” He literally puts emphasis on certain words as he sharpens his gaze, making it look like he’s threatening him.

“Copy that,” Yoongi replies with a nod. “Anything else?”

Taehyung turns to look at me and I only shrug at him. “Well—I think that’s it.”

Yoongi’s smile widens as he crosses his arms. I thought he’ll go back inside again, but he steps forward. Towards me. I freeze in my spot once again, and when he’s close enough, he leans in. “I suggest you take this outsider out before anyone finds out,” he whispers, close to my ear.

“We have a keypass,” I shortly reply, both annoyed and flustered at our closeness.

“Right…” He deeply chuckles. “Which you got for telling them he’s your…brother?” He leans back, giving me a chance to see his face full of mocking. “Right, right. Just make sure you’ll still be able to come to our practice later. Let’s meet up at the music room.” With a smug smirk plastered on his face, he eyes Taehyung and I before going back inside.

Wow…  How. Dare. He?

I huff, stomping my feet as I take Taehyung with me down to the building. He doesn’t ask any questions until we’re near the school gates.

“Uhm, so…did it work?”

“No.” I groan, not because of Taehyung, but because of that angel in disguise. “He has the nerve to tell me to practice?? Me?! I was the one who continuously told him to practice with me—but he always had an excuse!”

“But, look on the bright side. He’s up now for practice,” Taehyung says with an awkward smile. “Also, I think I acted like a big bro pretty well.”

I scoff, looking at him deadpan. “Well, it wasn’t enough. He knows you're not my brother.”

“How?”

“I don’t know!” I groan again, kicking some fallen leaves on the ground. “But… Thanks for the help, Tae.”

“No probs. Sorry if it didn’t work.” He beams me a soft smile as he puts an arm on my shoulder. “But don’t worry, he’ll soften up too. Who doesn’t like Jeon Y/n?” he teases while ruffling my hair. “Aside from me?” As he adds those, he knows I’m gonna kill him. So, he instantly detaches himself from me and waves a goodbye as he runs toward outside.

I shake my head as I lightly chuckle at his stupidness. Then, I remember the real situation I’m in. “I guess, this leaves me to spend a couple of hours with him—dancing. Ugh.”

This is gonna be a long afternoon…

(MYG POV)

I can’t believe I know too much about her. To the point I can tell that he’s not her brother. In fact—she has no older brother at all. Only a younger one. And I hate that I know all of these.

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Where the heck is Jimin?!

I annoyingly look around as I look for the blondie. He told me to wait near the school gates after school, and it has been almost half an hour since the school ends and he’s nowhere to be found. I keep looking for him and while I’m at it, I feel someone tap my shoulder from behind. Turning around, I see one of our classmates—Seheo.

“You’re waiting for Jimin?”

“Yeah… Have you seen him?”

Seheo nods and replies, “He’s at the gym. He said you weren’t reading his texts.”

“Oh… My phone died. But thanks for letting me know.” I smile at him and wave a goodbye before heading to the gym.

I really have no time for his shenanigans now. The time is ticking. Every minute—no—every second gets wasted when I could be practicing right now! The situation really seems to get under my nerves, and there’s no way—NO FUCKING WAY that I’d let someone bring my grades down just because they’re not cooperative. If I have to carry the whole team by myself—I don’t care, I will carry it no matter what. It affects me after all.  

Remember this day, Min Yoongi. I hate you. I fucking despise you.

Nearing the gymnasium, I notice from my peripheral view the figure of someone particular. Someone beautiful awful. Straight up awful. I ignore him and continue walking, but it seems like he’s heading at the gym too. I hear him call me but I continue to ignore him. I still have to know what plan Jimin has on his sleeves before I talk to this boy again and crush all the dignity I have left.

My mind is too fogged up by the thoughts of him and his awfulness that it didn’t process what just happened right when I reached the gym.

Click. 

The sound of handcuffs locking rings in my ears, and before I know it, I feel the cold metal resting on my skin. Looking down at my wrists, my hand is cuffed with someone’s hand. A pale one.

Fuck.

“Hyung! What is this?!” Yoongi wriggles his wrists and I do too. Although, he’s wriggling more, that it kinda hurts and scrapes my skin.

“I won’t do that if I were you, Yoongi,” a man says. I stop wriggling and turn to where the voice comes from. A young man I’ve only seen in pictures. Tall, vibrant eyes, plump lips. A graceful looking old money kid. 

The President of the Student Council—Kim Seokjin?

Beside him is the blondie I’ve been searching for. “Jimin-ah, what’s going on?” I ask as I feel too dumbfounded at our situation.

Jimin grins widely and puts his hands on his pockets. “I asked Jin hyung for help.”

I scoff. “ ‘Help,’ and you mean by handcuffing us together??”

“You’re in this?” Yoongi asks sharply as he looks at me. The panic, surprise, and anger mixing into one.

“Not in this. And—can you stop wiggling!” I snap at him and he immediately stops. His expression softens for a brief second before he scowls again. “We won’t be in this situation, only if you are cooperative.”

“Is this about the dance?” he asks. He stupidly asks! He has some nerve to ask about it as if it isn’t our issue.

“No shit, Sherlock,” I remark as I look at him in a mocking disbelief. “What else? It’s been a week! Everyone is at least halfway through their performance, while us? Fucking bitch—none! Nada!” I yell at him, hoping that it’ll go straight like a bullet to his skull.

“Don’t curse at me,” he says, keeping his ground with his eyes boring mine. “And we have more than a week. It’s enough—”

“No, it’s not! And I can curse at you if I want, shithead,” I cuss at him through gritted teeth. But it seems like my cursing doesn’t work at him at all, instead, he smirks. He has the audacity to smirk as if this is some sort of a joke for him.

“For someone who is 'smart', you sure have a foul-mouth rather than a smart one.”

I scoff at him, tugging my cuffed wrists harshly towards me, making him hiss. “Okay, knows-it-all.”

“Sure thing, dramatic.” He tugs back, his menacing smirk widens all over his face. 

“Drama—” I huff out a laugh, tugging it back. “Overbearing.” 

“Pretentious.”

“Arrogant.”

“Attention seeker.”

“Heartless.”

“Bossy.”

“Overconfident—” With my last tug, I go too hard, causing Yoongi to lose balance and push me down with him. We both hit the hard floor, groaning and muttering curses under our breaths. The sudden adrenaline slowing makes the sting in my wrist more perceptible. 

Yoongi lies on top of me, his weight almost crushes my already fragile body. We pant as we stare at each other, my fiery gaze throwing daggers at him, while he—he looks rather worried or concerned. But it might be just my delusion deceiving me. “Get off,” I say sternly.

“You should be thankful I sacrificed my hand for you,” he replies—just sharply as I did.

I scoff, shifting my gaze away from him before looking back. “Thankful? You pushed me.”

A look of aghast disbelief crosses his face. “Pushed you?? You were the one who tugged our handcuffed hands by the way,” he says as he shakes our hands near my face. “I tried to push you closer to me to save you from falling. Be thankful I still caught your head right on time, or else your brain will have more deformities than it already has.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused,” is the last thing he says before he gets off of me, pulling away his other hand that has been under my head and lies beside me. He has no choice anyway. He’s literally handcuffed to me.

Letting out heavy breaths, I let the time pass. We got too occupied with our fight that it seems like Jin and Jimin slipped away already. I didn’t know arguing with someone can be this exhausting. Especially with someone you adore—before. Before knowing the beast that hides in that beauty. 

Ever since that day, I keep thinking what’ve I done for him to react like that. I’ve always been good at things I do—sometimes even great. Which is why I don’t understand why he would hate to be partnered with me. He even tried to say that I’m a ‘great disaster.’ Well, it got cut off after the ‘great’, but I’m pretty sure that’s what he was about to say.

Am I ugly? Embarrassing? That he doesn’t wanna let other people see he’s dancing with me? 

But that is just quite impossible. I may not be the most good-looking girl at this school, but I’m also not that ugly. 

Contemplating whether to ask him or not, I choose my curiosity to win. “Why do you hate me?” I quietly ask.

“I just do.”

I turn to look at him, confused and offended at the same time. “But why? What made you hate me?”

“Your existence,” he replies quietly, sharply, and heartlessly—as he looks back at me.

Oh… My existence itself is a great bane for him.

“Right… No wonder the first time we met, you seemed like you’ve hated me your whole life.” I pause as I look away, not being able to keep my eyes on his cold ones. “But, we just met. That’s why I don’t get it.”

He lets out a snort, tugging our handcuffed wrists to make me look at him. “ ‘We… just met’? Are you being serious right now?”

Sitting up, I turn to look at him, frowning. “Do I look like a clown to you?”

Yoongi sits up too and rolls his eyes at my sass. “Are you referring to the first day you came to our class?”

“Well, yeah, unless… Oh gosh, the notebook! Is it about the notebook? How did you even know? You were deep in sleep.”

His face twists in confusion. “Notebook? Wha—Oh! You were the one who answered the homework?”

“Wait, if this isn’t about that—”

“Nevermind. Forget it,” he says. He also mumbles some things but I can’t quite catch it. “Let’s find the two first before we practice. Both of our wrists are grazed. We might get infections if we don’t treat it,” he quietly says.

I don’t argue with him, and let him drag me. We both walk out of the gym and quietly search for the two.

>>>

On our way to the Student Council’s room, we meet a bunch of guys hanging out under the shed.

“I didn’t know you’re into that Gloss,” some dude teases, while he and his friends look at us, pointing at our handcuffed wrists. They make a teasing ‘oohh’ sound, then laugh .

Did he just call him… ‘Gloss’? I think I’ve heard this name before.

Yoongi rolls his eyes at them. “Have you seen Jin hyung?”

“Oh, the great J? Nah. Why you ask, man?” the boy replies. He and his friends look like some thugs with their loose neck tie, chains, and a cap that says ‘fo shizzle.’ Whatever that means. 

Two questions come to mind as I watch the two talk: how did this boy get accepted in this school, and why are they friendly with Yoongi.

But hey, no judgement here—just genuinely curious. Someone with their swag usually beats up the fancy looking kids like Yoongi and Jin, so seeing them converse with each other normally feels a little… odd.

Or perhaps I just really want to see the two with bruised faces after everything that had happened.

Yoongi points at our wrists, still giving them a plain look. The guys let out an ‘ahh’ in unison as if we’re in some sitcom. Then, the same guy calls out his friend.

“Ayo, Big Namu, help these guys out.”

Just when his friend steps in, I hold back my laughter as I look at him. For someone whose name is Big Namu—which translates to ‘Big Tree,’ he’s more of a bonsai size.

The guy seems to notice my reaction as he raises a brow. “You got a problem, girl?”

I gulp and shake my head. “Nope. All’s fine.” I force out a smile in hope to settle our little situation. 

Yoongi shifts beside me, leaning closer to my ear as he whispers, “Judgemental and a liar. Let me add that to the list.” I can feel him smirking while saying those. He’s probably referring to our banter earlier—throwing names back and forth. 

“Infuriating and a gangster, should I add those too?” I bite back.

He only snickers and shakes his head. “A gangster? You think—”

“Let me see the handcuff,” the boy named Big Namu walks over to us, making our attention turn to him. His voice is so deep and big. Definitely bigger than him.

I guess this is why they call him Big Namu.

Yoongi—without a warning—extends his wrist, making my wrist forcefully move along with him. My wrist still stings from our back and forth tugging earlier. “Ow! Can you be more gentle?”

“Perhaps it’s not in my vocabulary.”.

“Well, you should look it up.”

He only glares at me before looking back at the boy in front of us. “You think you can pick this lock?” 

“Well, I’ve tried houses, stores—banks, but never a handcuff. There’s a first time for everything.” Big Namu chuckles, taking out a hairpin from the back of his head. The action puzzles me more since he’s literally bald. To be clear—more of a buzz cut, but still, where does that pin cling?

I lean a bit closer to Yoongi, enough that only he can hear me—or at least that’s what I think. “Are you sure they study here? I’m starting to think—”

“A cousin of mine works as a security guard,” Big Namu cuts me off, and I can only drown in shame. He starts on working the cuff, trying to figure out ways to unlock it. “Always loses the keys. Good thing he knows lock picking. Then, he taught me. I just do this as a hobby.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. I–Yeah… Sorry.”

“You’re handcuffed with the Gloss, but you don’t know us?” the same guy from the earlier chimes in. Then he turns to Yoongi. “Who is this girl, anyway? I thought you’re with—” He cuts himself off, then I look at Yoongi who subtly warns him with his eyes. Sighing, he shifts his eyes back to me. “Aight, aight. But seriously, you don’t know us?” 

Before I can reply, Yoongi answers his earlier question. “She’s Y/n. A transferee.”

“Wait—Y/n as in Y/n–Y/n?” he exclaims in surprise. Then, he turns to his friends as he points at me. “Y’all, it’s Y/n!” 

Everyone makes an ‘oohh’ sound in unison once again, and slowly, I’m starting to think that we're actually in a sitcom. They all seem to be happy realizing who I am for some reason. 

“So, you’re that girl,” another guy says.

“Damn, you’re her?”

“No wonder…”

No wonder what?

All of them look like they know me with their reactions. Beside me, Yoongi sighs as he rubs his temple with his free hand, evidently annoyed and tired of them.

“Hey, Gloss. Why don’t you invite her to our gig? D-Town would love her to go,” the same guy who has been talking to us from the start, says. He’s smiling mischievously as he offers. 

Click.

The sound of the handcuffs snapping makes our attention turn towards it. Big Namu successfully unlocked it. “Here. All good. It’s a cheap one so it’s easy.”

My eyes widen in surprise as I stare at my wrist. I’m maybe free from him now, but the visible red marks from the multiple times that the handcuffs scrape my skin stings a little more. Especially now that I can feel the cold breeze blowing on it.

“No.”

No?

I turn to look at Yoongi who’s also trying to ease the pain on his wrist. “She can’t go,” he plainly declares, referring to the guy’s offer.

“Technically, I can,” I say, though I don’t exactly know what kind of gig they are talking about—as long as I can oppose him.

“I won’t let you,” he replies as he glares at me.

Is there any reaction that I can get from him other than glaring?

Raising a brow, I question him. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to. I don’t want you there.”

I quickly cover my hurt reaction. Not wanting to show that he has an effect on me.“Fine. It’s not like I would want to go,” I reply, rolling my eyes at him.

“Then why insist?”

“‘Cause an option wouldn’t be so bad.”

“So you really do want me to invite you.” He smirks, as if he just won a competition that I’m not aware of.

I gape at him, trying to come up with a better remark, but before I can do so, he starts walking away. I thank the guys—especially Big Namu for helping before I follow him. Usually, I’d go home and mentally curse at him for being a jerk, but there’s still some time, and we have to practice. I quickly catch up to him despite his longer strides.

“Where are you going?”

No answer. He keeps on walking, and I keep on following him. After walking for some time, we reached the clinic. He goes inside, still not even checking if I’m still with him—as if for some reason, he knows that I’ll follow. 

“Doctor Jang?” he calls out, searching for her. Though, it seems like the doctor isn’t here at all. No doctor. No nurses. Just an empty clinic. He might’ve realized it too as he exasperatedly sighs. “Stay here,” he says, leaving me standing there.

So he does acknowledge me.

I do as I’m told while he searches for something in the room. Walking towards the couch a few steps away from me, I sit. He doesn’t take a while, and he comes back with a pack of wipes, an ointment, and adhesive bands that have cute cat designs on it. He stands in front of me, eyes cold as ever.

“Your wrist.” His hand reaches out for me while I only stare at him in confusion.

“What?”

“Give me your wrist,” he repeats, sounding slightly annoyed. 

I don't argue with him this time, only quietly extending my hand to him. Then, he puts down the things that he brought and sits beside me. He takes my forearm carefully, doing his best to not accidentally nudge my wrist. With wet wipes, he gently cleans my grazed skin. I hiss from the cold contact of the wipes, and to my surprise, he doesn’t tell me to endure it and glare. No snarky comments or remarks. But instead, he just softly blows on it. His eyes scan every side of my wrist, making sure that it’ll be cleaned properly. 

Or at least that’s what it seems.

Quietly watching him treat my skin makes the moths in my stomach go wild. I mentally curse at myself for feeling such a thing. This is the same person who called me names and openly told me he hates me. He’s just doing this to clear his conscience, because after all—if only he was cooperative, none of this would’ve happened. 

At the same time, I can’t deny how good he looks from this distance. From this close. The sharp edges of his jaw, the soft arch of his nose, his lips ajar as he solely focuses on treating my wrist. 

I shake off my thoughts of him—literally. 

He flinches in surprise at my sudden movement and raises a brow. “What?”

“Nothing. Go on.”

Sighing, he goes back to treating me again. He takes the ointment, and softly dabs it on my skin. It feels cool as he applies it. The scrapes don't sting now as much as they did earlier. Then, he finishes treating my wrist by wrapping an adhesive band on me. I bite back a chuckle as I watch him wrap it, only because the cat on the design resembles him. Brows knitted, eyes sharp, mouth pouting. 

“Now, what?” he asks, a bit irritated, making him look like the cat design even more.

A grin tries to creep over my face but I suppress it. “Nothing…”

He shifts his eyes from my bandaged wrist to me, then back to my wrist. Closing his eyes, he sighs. He must’ve realized it. “I only found these ones. They hid the normal bandages,” he explains.

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“Yeah. Your non-verbal mocking is enough.” He scowls at me, sitting up as he starts to walk away to put back the things he took to the cabinet. 

“Wait—Your wrist… Do you want me to help?”

His steps falter, looking back at me with the same plain face. “No,” he curtly replies. “I’m fine. I’ll treat myself at home.” 

He’s so cold. Probably colder than Antarctica. For someone who clearly stated that they in fact hate me, his actions reflect it a hundred times louder than his words. 

It’s not like I care.

But I don’t argue anymore. It’s tiring. So tiring to argue with someone like him. Someone who—as far as I remember—I didn’t do anything wrong to. 

“Okay,” I breathe. “Let’s just practice tomorrow after school. And I’m not taking a no. We’ve wasted so many days.” I managed to keep my voice steady and grounded. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction and let him know how much it bothers me the way he acts around me.

If he hates me, then I surely hate him too.

(MYG POV)

I didn’t mean any of these to happen. I didn’t mean to hurt her. Even if I despise her the most. 

And actually, I truly wish that she’s not here. With me. Eyes watching my every move as I treat her grazed skin that I caused. It’d be easier to crush her if only she didn’t come to my territory.

She’s a competitor. A rival. I can’t be attached to her ‘innocent’ gazes.

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A/N: This is honestly my fav part lolz