#bwxjinki

the night was still young, and yet the sun had already reached the horizon and was being overtaken by darkness. the sky was velvet, midnight blue, twinkling with all the stars -- it was a good thing that the forecast showed no signs of showers tonight. all day, yoona had seen banners strung up as she walked around the academy -- clear signs of the festivities that bullworth had promised today would offer. the students seemed to be revelling in the slightly carnival-like atmosphere; everywhere the dark-haired girl looked, she could see mouths pulled up into wide, crescent-shaped smiled, eyes crinkling in amusement, hear laughter bubbling from deep within each academy goer she had come across. and yet she herself wasn't feeling any of the same emotions; there was no euphoria, no excitement -- no such emotion stirring within yoona's thin frame. she just felt cold, from the tips of her fingers to the tips of her toes; cold to the bone.

she used to go to festivals with her family. she'd been young then (ever since the incident, they'd never gone again) -- the fireworks, bright and loud and resonant and so beautiful to her little self, seemed so exhilarating as they soared through the night sky and erupted into a maze of sparks and colour. she used to jump into her father's arms, point at them and grin, as her mother would startle at every new firework's boom.

fireworks used to make her smile. now, they were far too bright, too loud, too much for her.

upon the announcement of the festival, some of yoona's fellow clique members had made plans with several willing townies to get them some alcohol in exchange for a way to sneak in. the plan had followed through, and so now she was sitting on the bleachers, just shy off of a few other her other fellow 'bullies', nursing a dripping bottle of liquor. and even though it was warm and disgusting and she'd never been much of a drinker, she drank -- because it helped her forget the fireworks, and the memories, and the incident.