#mwiou

He holds the key in his hand, his eyes scanning you.

He had recognised you immediately–you went to the same school as his sister, and he had always thought you were beautiful (he might’ve had a small crush on you as well) but had never actually pursued anything with you as he was always too focused on his music.

Maybe he could try now–he mentally slaps himself, the thought immediately disappearing.

Who was he kidding? He was still way too busy now, and he probably wouldn’t have enough time to actively date someone.

You sit in one of his old sleeping shirts, scrolling through something on your phone. Beside you is an açai bowl, sprinkled with banana slices and strawberries.

His favourite combo.

You give him an awkward smile before going back to scrolling.

Before he can ask questions, his sister walks over, drying her hair before looking up, her eyes widening at the sight of him.

“Oh, you’re home.”

He nods, closing the door behind him and taking off his shoes. He knows that he and his sister aren’t the closest, but seeing as how rarely he got to her, he realised in the months and days apart how much he actually missed her.

Although he would never say that.

She gives him a quick side hug, making him smell the faint traces of the body wash they always used clinging to her arms. She walks over to you, grabbing a spoon and taking a bite of the açai.

“Mum and Dad are out right now, I’ll text them you got home early.”

His sister walks over to her room, leaving you and him in the same space together.

He stands there, his heavy bag hanging low behind him. He turns to you, watching as you hop off the counter.

“It’s been a while.” He says, seeing how much prettier you had gotten.

“Yeah, nice to see you again though.” You slightly bowed, a small piece of hair falling from behind your ear. You take the bowl and walk over to the dinner table.

“You too.” He rubs the back of his neck, walking behind you.

You sit down in the chair he always used to sit in, the one he always used to fight over with his sister.

He turns, walking into his old room.

The rain outside hasn’t eased up, still the same harsh drops now slapping against his window.

He places his bag down, plopping down onto his old bed. He realises his mother must have been cleaning, the room completely devoid of any dust. He had visited just months ago, but it still felt weird every time he came back.

He plops down on his old bed, looking at his desk. His old PC setup is untouched, the cords now hanging loosely off the table.

He falls back against his sheets, closing his eyes out of exhaustion.

“How’s it like being an idol now?”

He sits up immediately, seeing you stand in his doorway. He should’ve closed the door, he thinks.

“Pretty good.”

He realises that he can’t really catch a break anymore, especially with you still in his house.

His sister has probably texted their parents already, so why are you still talking to him?

You casually take a bite out of the acai bowl, something that Seonghyeon had kind of been eyeing the minute he saw you with it. “How is it? Being an idol I mean. I know you worked really hard too, so it has to feel amazing now.”

He nods at that. “Uh, it’s nice. I get to meet a lot of people that I didn’t think I’d get to.”

You hummed at that. “But it has to be hard at times, right?” You walk into the room, getting closer to him. 

“I guess.” He shrugged, his cheeks feeling a little bit warm as his childhood crush walked closer to him.

“What’s the hardest part about it?” You eyed a few things in his room–the drawings and clothes at the end of his bed.

He thinks for a moment before coming up with a quick answer that wouldn’t get him in trouble.

“Probably the training.”

“Really? Not the fans who constantly pry and claw their way into your personal life?”

Your response almost shocks him for a moment, making him awkwardly rub the back of his neck.

“Not all of them are like that..” He tries to defend, but he knows there are clips of him online revealing way more than he would like to admit.

You nod at that. “So how do you date?”

That question makes him snap his head up immediately, making him look at you standing around so casually.

“W-what?”

“How do you date?” You echo. “Surely it has to be hard.”

You take a few more steps forward, but apparently you hadn’t paid enough attention as something makes you trip over, resulting in you suddenly falling forward.

If anyone asked, Seonghyeon would swear that he caught you.

Although that would be a lie, seeing how his attempt to make you fall safely leads you to lie right on top of him.

Pain shoots up his back for a quick second, making him groan. 

He was about to ask if you were okay but the words die on his tongue the moment he looks at you. Your face was just inches from his, and smelling his old shampoo on you made him feel a little dizzy.

You had probably tripped over his bag strap, making him curse himself five minutes ago for recklessly dropping it to the ground.

You were chest to chest, and his arms had somehow found their place on the small of your backside.

You didn’t look embarrassed or shocked to be right on top of him, you just looked a little surprised, like the way people did when someone they didn’t know said hi to them. 

Not when they had just fallen into a celebrity.

He feels a heat crawl fast, right up his neck and probably already on his cheeks. He couldn’t get a single word out, his breaths quickening and uneven as you looked around you, your eyes cast around the ground.

“Oh, good.”

What- he looks at what you were looking at, only to find the half eaten açai bowl landed upright, right under his desk.

Instead of getting off of him like a normal person would, you instead sit up, still on him and grab the acai bowl.

Seonghyeon almost dies inside as his shirt on you starts falling to the side, a quick reveal of your shoulder making him almost explode in embarrassment. His hands are now on your waist from your movements, and for some reason you don’t seem to mind one bit.

Get a grip! You’re an idol for fucks sake.

He should be more professional than this but the 17 year olds body clearly doesn’t listen to him as heat keeps rushing up his neck.

“Are you okay?”

You ask almost a little too worried, now leaning in much closer than you were just seconds ago.

He opens his mouth to respond, only to shut it once you press the back of your fingers to his forehead.

Seonghyeon is suddenly faced with the realisation that a very pretty girl is sitting in his lap with his hands around her waist, and now checking if he has a fever.

“You’re kind of burning up… are you sure rain didn’t get on you or something?” You then touch his neck, your warm fingers touching his even warmer neck. “I didn’t think people could get sick this quick..”

That’s because I’m not sick!

He clears his throat before speaking. “I’m not sick.”

Just as he was about to stand up and finally get you off of him, a gasp came from his doorway.

“Seonghyeon! What are you doing with my friend?” His sister scolds, now rushing in and pulling you off of him.

He stands up quickly and tries to defend himself. “I wasn’t doing anything! She just fell–“

“Right on top of you like some K-drama scene? That’s so gross!” His sister fake gags before walking off with you.

Although before you left his line of vision, you leaned back into his room, now giving him a cheeky smile.

“I’ll wait for your answer, Eom Seonghyeon.” You say, giving a quick wave of goodbye before walking off.

He sighs, running his hands through his hair.

He thinks that you must’ve tripped over his bag strap, only for him to realise that his bag was nowhere near where you had fallen.

Did she..trip on purpose?

Back in his sister's room, you sit on her bed, wondering if he had figured it out yet. His sister played some random game in front of you as you thought of the situation that transpired just moments ago.

You didn’t expect to fully trip right on top of him, but you didn’t mind it.

Seeing how nervous he looked reminded you of the days before he became an idol, making you remember all the tricks and pranks you used to play on him.

“He’s still so cute..”

“Did you say something?” His sister asks, still not looking up from her phone.

Eom Seonghyeon is your best friend.

You bicker and scream at each other–in a friendly way of course. Everyone sees the way you hit and punch each other, even though one minute later you’ll both be sharing your food.

Everyone knows this–students, teachers, parents, and even the janitors know about your relationship. 

“I literally saw her grab the hem of his shirt.”

“Right? And the fact that he always pays for her when they go out!”

Murmurs and chatter echo around the school hallways. It’s a daily occurrence–everyone wondering about the new adjustments to the two best friends.

You sit in maths, humming a song while working on a revision sheet next to Seonghyeon.

“You did number three wrong.”

His voice cuts through your humming. You press your lips into a thin line before rubbing it out.

“You also did number nine wrong.”

You look over to the side and find Seonghyeon’s chin on your shoulder. His eyes are focused on the revision sheet and in his hands is the jelly bean ‘bean-boozled’ pack that Keonho gave him that morning.

He tears into the plastic packaging. “You used the wrong formula for 15.”

“Are you going to do this the whole time?”

“I’m already finished–it’s not my fault you misread the question.”

You roll your eyes but make no further attempt to argue back. You hear him softly open the box, the jelly beans rolling around when he places it on the desk.

He smells of fresh linen and the vanilla cologne you got him for his birthday. Bits of his brown hair fall over his eyes and his plump lips purse when he sees the flavours.

“‘Toasted marshmallow or stinkbug’, how the hell did they even get this flavour?” He murmurs.

You look over and he turns the box to you, letting your eyes scan the flavours.

“‘Strawberry banana smoothie or dead fish’?” You scrunch your nose in disgust, your interest completely lost.

Seonghyeon snorts. “Should I give that one Keonho?”

“Yeah, do it.”

You continue working on your sheet while Seonghyeon does whatever doesn’t bore him. 

He sits close to you the whole time, his arm sometimes finding its way on top of your chair. You don’t mind the proximity between you two–yet everyone seemed to make a big deal out of it. 

In fact, you find yourself leaning into it. Sometimes, when others would gossip, you wouldn’t say anything and shrug it off. 

Seonghyeon acted the same.

When Keonho would ask, he would shrug. Of course, with these cavalier attitudes you both seemed to have towards the situation ended up with even more whispers rolling around.

“They have to be into each other.”

“Iroha they could literally just be friends.”

Iroha rolls her eyes, groaning at her friend's ignorance.

“I saw them holding hands last week! Tell me if you’ve ever held hands with your boy best friend.”

She leans in, whispering in Minju’s ear.

“The other day, they were in the cafeteria–you know how it’s always crowded? I’m pretty sure I saw him wrap an arm around her waist so that she wouldn’t get pushed around.”

She whispers it like it’s a scandal, watching Minju’s eyes widen.

“Alright. Let’s assume that did happen–it’s still none of our business.”

Iroha purses her lips.

“Go ask her if you’re really curious”

“Ask who?”

They both jump at your sudden interruption. To them, it seemed like you had just popped out of nowhere when in reality you had been standing near them for the whole conversation.

You’re not even sure how they didn’t notice you.

Minju signals with her eyes, screaming out ‘ASK HER’.

“Uhm, you actually. Can I ask what’s going on between you and Seonghyeon.”

You want to laugh at them. You contemplate it for a moment but end up shrugging like always.

They both groan, Iroha in particular looking disappointed.

“I knew this was a dead end–should we ask Seonghyeon?”

You open your mouth to say something when an arm suddenly wraps around your waist. 

“Ask me what?” Seonghyeon smoothly asks, his head cocked to the side.

They both look at the contact between you and him, their mouths dropping.

“Uh, you know what? We have this… thing in the library.” Iroha gulps, packing up her tray and gesturing for Minju to hurry up.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re going to go now so have fun with whatever this is.”

When they leave, you both look at each other and chuckle. 

You walk around for a bit, watching as students rush through the tables and chairs.

“Want to share ice cream?”

It’s a Saturday when you and Seonghyeon go out.

He holds your hand as you walk through the city, letting yourself get dragged around by him. He makes sure you don’t bump into people, and even lets you take pictures off of his digital camera whenever you wanted.

You stare down at your phone as he holds you close, him making sure to look back on you every now and then. 

The cafe is quiet when you enter. The ambiance is warm and inviting, letting you both feel more relaxed as you settle down into a booth. The slow lofi beats hum in the background, and the quiet chatter makes it all the more comforting.

He sits beside you, pulling out the menu and letting you check first.

“Did they get rid of the tiramisu?” You mumbled.

He looks over, watching as you callously skimmed through the menu. He notices the way your expression scowled, making him almost chuckle. He reaches over, taking over for the search for the dessert.

“Ah, here.”

He points to the coffee flavoured dessert, watching as your eyes sparkle in joy.

“Do you want any drinks?”

You think for a moment. “Can we just share a latte?”

He nods and calls over the waiter. 

He’s unbelievably close to you as he orders. His shoulder brushes up against yours, and you don’t seem to mind one bit. 

Across the restaurant, two people seemed to have noticed the outing between you two.

“Yo, isn’t that Seonghyeon?” Maki asks, his eyes squinting to see who was beside the mentioned boy.

Wonhee looked over–from her angle she could very clearly see you, in Seonghyeon’s hoodie, while you both argued about something.

They can vaguely hear the conversation–bits and pieces of school work and calling each other stupid leaks out.

“The answer was not five over seven.”

“Well getting nine over eight doesn’t make sense!”

They look at you two in amusement, calmly sipping on their tea.

“They have to be together, right?”

“…Wait, they aren’t?”

When you walk out, you’re laughing at some dumb joke he made. They can’t help but notice the way he smiles–his eyes crinkling at the edges as you continue to laugh your heart out.

He stays close to you, holding your items as you both walk away.

The air is cold as you walk out, hearing Seonghyeon complain about another teacher.

“He’s too strict and doesn’t even let anyone breathe–the other day, he yelled at Keonho because he emailed the draft one minute late.”

As he continues to talk, you wrap your arm around his and he simply lets you. He pulls you in closer, but still pulls out complaints about the school faculty and staff.

“Grab the chips bro.” James snatches a pack off the rack, tossing it into the basket absentmindedly.

You press your lips into a thin line, watching as it lands on top of the other snacks they decided to get.

“How much does this all cost?”

“Martin’s paying for it all–hey, have you ever tried Dr Pepper?”  Keonho turns around and points at the pack in front of him. They were all stacked on top of each other, a few cans missing from the sides. It was clear that the previous customers had ripped into the cardboard. Whether they stole it or bought it separately, you didn’t seem to care.

You shrug. “I heard it tastes like medicine.” 

Martin walks over, now beside you. You know by the look in his eyes that he’s curious; he eyes the pack like it’s some piece of candy

The deal is sealed when Juhoon waddles over as well, now on your other side.

Keonho asks for his opinion. “Should we get the 12 pack or 24?”

You exasperatedly hold the basket in your hands as they talk. They dragged you out of your room so fast that you had to abandon your headphones. 

What a shame, now you couldn’t block out their bickering.

“Get the 24 pack, the fridge still has a lot of space.”

Now everyone had suddenly surrounded you–James came up behind and Seonghyeon had jumped in next to Keonho. You yawn, watching them quarrel.

“No, what if it doesn’t taste good? We would’ve just wasted money for no reason.”

“But if it does taste good, everyone is going to like it and we’ll have to come back here again.”

“How popular in the states is it?”

“But it’s like 70 dollars! I don’t want to pay for something that no one likes!” You lean towards Seonghyeon as Martin and Keonho argue. 

You both chuckle at everyone’s antics as the argument goes on. He offers to hold the basket for you but you shake your head.

“But if everyone likes it, then this is the one to go with!” Keonho says while picking up the 24 pack.

“Why can’t we just get Cola like we always do?”

“The states really like this though! I just want to see the hype.”

“That’s 70,000 won dude.”

“How about we buy one, share it and see if everyone likes it?” Your manager interjects. He crosses his arms, his expression clearly unimpressed.

“You guys don’t even know how it tastes yet.”

Everyone shrugs.

“Fair point.”

You sigh in relief. After that, everyone disperses and goes off somewhere in the store.

You feel the basket get heavier when a can is put in, but get confused when another pressure of weight is added. You turn and see that Keonho had sneakily put one more can inside. 

You raise your eyebrow at him.

“Just for good measure.” He reasons.

By the time you go up to pay, the basket is so full with snacks they almost fall out. Seonghyeon stands beside you, holding a few snacks of his own. 

As you stand waiting, you pick at your polished nails. It’s a mix of random pastels–mainly pink and green. You click your tongue, noticing that the polish has gotten patchy. It had only been a few days since you last painted them, so your annoyance was understandable.

Just as you scratch a small bit off, you notice Seonghyeon mimicking your actions, checking out his own nails. They’re smooth and look clearly untouched, making you feel almost envious.

As you get closer to the counter, Seonghyeon suddenly grabs your arm. You look up and he clears his throat.

“Hey, could you…paint my nails later?”

“Can you hold still?”

“I’m sorry! You’re breathing really hard though and it tickles my hand.” He mumbles.

You look up, your eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m breathing normally?”

You shake your head and continue, but move your head a bit further back. He had chosen white and grey for his nails, the colours barely standing out in the midst of his dark sheets.

You both sit in his bed while a random show plays on his phone screen. You occasionally tuned it out to focus on his nails, careful to not let it touch his skin.

After ten minutes, you had only painted his thumb and index finger, granted you weren’t exactly a nail artist so this was the fastest you could go without too much of it getting on him. You had painted a few dots and stars on them, so the amount of time it took was excused.

“You’re actually pretty good at this.” He flexes the fingers already painted, checking out the details.

As he does that, he grabs the Dr pepper you had been drinking out of off the floor, taking a sip for himself.

A warmth crawls from your neck to your cheeks, but you try to pay no mind to it. You were comfortable enough with eachother for it to not mean anything, and yet everytime he does it always has your heart thumping just a little bit faster.

“Could you do a black on my ring finger?” He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Sure.” 

You both stay like this for a moment–hands touching as the show continues. He doesn’t seem to mind the contact one bit, and yet a small part of you cares a little too much about the proximity between you two. Martin and Keonho were out in the living room, watching whatever Korean youtuber entertained them for the night so it was just you two.

The room is quiet besides the aircon humming above, the cold air blowing on both of you time to time.

“Give me your left hand now.”

He obliges, checking out your work. He makes a noise of fascination and flexes his fingers after his prolonged stillness, checking the polish in different angles. He smiles brightly at it, making you chuckle at his reaction. You shake the cramps out of your hand, watching as he blows at the wet polish.

“I should ask you to do my nails more often.”

You hum in acknowledgment–he looks almost entranced with your work. A small pink dusts your cheeks after hearing his comment, but you internally shake your head.

“How’s your finger now?” You ask, pointing to the brace around the finger he had broken a few months back.

“Ah, it’s fine now.” He says, flexing it a little. 

You nod before reaching for the grey polish.

“Can you pass me the thin brush?” You hold your other hand out while opening the bottle. Check the time–3am. You want to sigh, but also wanted to continue for Seonghyeon’s sake.

He gives it to you and you can’t help but notice the way his fingers slightly linger against your palm. His touch is soft and gentle, making you almost gulp.

You don’t question it and continue working, painting a large star on top of the white coat.

It’s not like you could even date him, so there was no point in getting flustered over this.

“But mummmm,” you bemoan. “It’s only the electives! They don’t even matter!”

She shakes her head, her knife hitting the chopping board with a light thump. “It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be getting less than 95% in art and digital technologies.”

“But–“ you tried to interject, only for your mother to interrupt immediately.

“No buts! I know you think they don’t matter, but excelling at everything in school will get you to every college there is,” she walks to the sink, washing the knife under cold water. “If you really put your mind to it, you’ll get into Tsinghua university, just like your father and I.”

But you dropped out because it was too hard. You bitterly thought, but immediately regretted it and mentally slapped your forehead.

“I know you think it’s unfair, but we just want the best for you.” She puts the knife into the rack before walking over to the freezer and pulling out the best dessert in the entire world–a full tub of mango-apple ice cream.

Every negative thought you had disappeared immediately.

You had enjoyed that delicious dessert after dinner, reaching about halfway until your dad took it away from you.

At school, you thought about skipping the two hour session until Wonhee had told you they did a roll-call at the start and if you weren’t there, they would call your parents.

You showed up right on time, putting your bag on the desk’s hook.

You weren’t really sure what ‘cram school’ was supposed to teach you.

For some reason, your parents had decided to send you to a prestigious one, one where mostly private school students who couldn’t afford a private tutor would go to.

Sure, it was probably a really good school with nice enough teachers, but the only reason why you were scoring lower in those subjects was because you couldn’t give less of a crap about them!

As soon as you entered the room, you felt stares from everyone, suddenly making you notice how out of place you looked there.

All of the kids had fancy uniforms, a few even wearing fancy brands. Whether it be their jewellery or shoes, it was clear there was a gap in wealth between you and them.

Wonhee couldn’t come that day because her parents had forced her to come work at their family restaurant, so you sat all alone at the back while everyone else seemed to have their own little friend groups.

You were pulling out stuff from your bag when you make eye contact with another girl, giving her a small smile. Instead of giving you one back, her expression turns into one of disgust, scoffing and turning around to face her friends.

Tough crowd.

You were about to pull out your pencil case when someone accidentally bumped into your desk, knocking off your newly bought comic.

In a quick flash, you snatched the comic up before it could even touch the ground, making you feel proud of your quick reflexes.

You turn to face the assailant, ready for an apology only to see a boy staring blankly right back at you. 

You almost froze in your spot.

To describe the boy standing in front of you would be like describing a model.

His hair fell perfectly over his face, a small fringe just above his long eyelashes. He was fair, with skin so smooth and shiny you swore you grew a pimple or two staring at it in envy. He looked relaxed and almost uncareful, almost like he didn’t just cause half your books to fall.

“What?” He says roughly, his tone completely snapping you back to reality.

Don’t judge a book by its cover, I guess.

You take a deep breath before responding, reminding yourself to try to be polite. “You’re supposed to say sorry.”

The boy narrowed his eyes, looking over your appearance. Suddenly you felt very conscious of your clothes–your beat up sneaker and dirty skirt that still had an orange juice spill feeling very obvious.

“I don’t say sorry to idiots. Especially ones that go to a public school.” He walks off immediately, leaving you stunned.

His words echo through your brain, leaving you more and more annoyed as he walks over to his seat, laughing with his friends about something.

What. The. Fuck.

Did he seriously call you an idiot to your face?

You don’t realise that you had your fists clenched until you hear the small squeak of the comic against your fingernails.

You panicked for a quick second, seeing the crescent shaped dents on the comics cover.

You looked over at the boy, his face suddenly starting to look uglier and uglier.

Later that night, you recalled that interaction while washing the dishes, feeling angrier and angrier as you thought about it more.

“Stupid asshole… also what the fuck is even that accent of his? ‘Oh I don’t say sorry to idiots because my ego is so inflated!’ Just because you’re pretty doesn’t mean you have to treat people rudely!” You cursed under your breath. Recalling the horrid memory had aggravated you so much that you ended up using much more force on a cup than you intended and accidentally dropping it onto the ground.

It shatters loudly, your parents immediately running in to assess the damage.

You couldn’t do anything but nervously look up at your dad, who was stroking his chin as if he was already thinking of a punishment for you.

You remember the last time you did something like this–he had banned you from going to the comic store for about a month. What was he going to do now?

“Two weeks grounded.”

You accepted it without complaint.

The next day you awoke quite energised.

You walked to school with Wonhee, talking about some new drama. Just as you were about to cross the street, two boys suddenly ran out from the left, almost running right into you.

It had surprised Wonhee, her arms that were previously filled with snacks and drinks had now fallen to the ground.

Their uniforms looked awfully familiar, but you couldn’t quite recall where you had seen them before.

Your friend had cursed them under her breath, clenching her first behind their backs like she was some old lady.

“Reckless jerks! They think they’re so much better than everyone just because they go to a private school.” She said as you both picked up her fallen items.

“I can’t believe their school had to be right next to ours.”

“..Wait, what?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? Even though we’re a public school, there’s a fancy boys private school right next to it.” She says almost casually, kicking at some pebble on the pathway. “It’s called Hwimun academy. Apparently the principals were in love once, so that’s why their school is so close to ours. But because that was so long ago, everything between our school and theirs just turned into a mess.”

As she explained it all to you, you suddenly remembered bits and pieces about the private school during your first few weeks.

“How do you not know this though? You’ve been here for a full year.”

You shrug, letting her continue.

The private school was way bigger than your school, and definitely got ten times more funding than yours.

Despite that, she told you that while their school would beat you at sports, your school would beat them at academics, which was quite surprising.

“The guys there are ruder than anyone else though. They don’t even try to be nice–it’s like if they do, they’ll uncontrollably barf up their guts.” She says, gagging at the thought of any of them.

As you reach the end of an underpass, you both spot a crowd of people hanging around the end of a road.

You both look at each other in curiosity before approaching the end of the crowd, noticing how the people that stopped were only kids from your school.

Both you and Wonhee stand on your tiptoes to see what was stopping them, only to see a whole crowd of Hwimun uniforms on the other side.

Two boys, one from each school standing right in the middle of everyone.

Phones were already pulled out, and a few kids were already looking excited for some reason.

You recognise the one standing in your uniform.

Kang Seomun was the school’s student council president, a smiley guy who was strict about a lot of things, but was always kind enough to give everyone a second chance. So, it was a big surprise to see him right in the middle of the encircled crowd, his expression dark and fists clenched.

“What did you say about our school?” He suddenly asks.

Kang Seomun was also very proud to be the school’s president–you remember that he was always very excited when he talked at the morning assembly’s.

The guy from the other school chuckles, shaking his head.

“I said that you were all poor and dirty pigs. Did you hear that?” He mocks, cocking his head to this side as the guys from his school behind him start snickering.

Before he can say anything else, Seomun rushes in and punches him in the face. He falls to the ground immediately, gasps and shouts falling around the crowd. Everyone starts to back up, but then Seomun grabs him by his shirt, punching him once again. Before he could land another one, the other guy grabs Seomun’s collar and headbutts him, hard.

The boys in front of you started cheering, yelling out ‘ohhs’ and ‘ahhs’ as the two stood up, both holding their arms out like it was a boxing match.

The sounds of their fight silence the entire crowd before kids from the older grades start pulling them apart, shouts and yells echoing through the street.

The street was close to the school, so both you and Wonhee walked off before teachers started running in and talking to everyone who saw it.

Fights like that obviously weren’t common, but everybody knew that if you were even remotely involved in one, the principal would get you in big trouble.

Both of you couldn’t risk your parents getting angry again, so walking away was an easy decision.

“I can’t believe Seomun would be so stupid to fight. I mean, I knew he was always so passionate about our school, but it’s not even eight!” Wonhee sighs, walking into the classroom with you.

She sits just next to you, dumping her snacks all over the table. She hands you a gummy bear packet before tearing into a bag of chips.

“Do you think the teachers have caught them yet?”

She shrugs, shoving a handful of chips into her mouth before loudly crunching on them. “Probably. They were all crowding around it like it was some pop star's show.”

The six hours go by quickly, dread sitting in fast as you both walk to the cram school. The school was surrounded by fun activities, clearly targeting the teens who went there. There were karaoke rooms, arcades, and even a few basketball courts.

Although the real highlight was the small cafe close by, their sign saying they were hiring. You had spotted it yesterday, but didn’t get much of a look as you were in a rush.

You decided you’d apply, and hopefully get the job.

You reach the classroom you were in yesterday, opening the door tiredly.

You take a few steps, only to hear whispers and murmurs around the room.

“They’re from that public school..”

“I can’t believe their school president would attack someone like that.”

“Do you think they’ll beat me up if I talk to them?”

“Idiot! They’re just girls, they’re not going to hurt you.”

You both send each other looks before sitting down, very confused. What the hell could they possibly be talking about?

Did someone post the fight?

“I knew your school was filled with idiots.”

You look up immediately, only to find the boy that insulted you yesterday.

What a surprise that you immediately recognised that dreadful Hwimun uniform, making you remember why it was so familiar that morning.

He looks down at you, hands tucked into his pockets. You had no time to respond to his previous remark, more words already escaping from his mouth. “That president of yours obviously seems to speak for all of you.”

He then turns and walks away, leaving you once again stunned.

What the hell was his problem? You didn’t even do anything! Also, how the hell did he even get in front of you?

You silently curse whatever higher being was up in the clouds, probably grinning and laughing at your situation.

He walks back to his friends, all of them laughing at both you and Wonhee.

Wonhee looks at you then at him, a perplexed look on her face. “Who was that?”

It had been two weeks since you had officially met Eom Seonghyeon at that atrocious cram school.

Stares and murmurs followed you everywhere you went, all from private school kids who sneered at you. You weren’t someone who was particularly intimidated by them, but having to deal with whispers and conversations, all about how your school was ‘second-rate’ was bothersome.

Eom Seonghyeon wasn’t particularly loud about his hatred towards you.

Well, it was more like he treated you like some ugly pet.

He would mostly ignore you, but every time he had to face you, he would click his tongue and give you a dirty look.

With every interaction you had with him, this air of derogatory confidence seemed to spew out of him with every glance he spared you.

It was like he truly believed that he was better than you.

But for some reason, instead of talking behind your back or even just blatantly bullying you, he would come up to you and actually say that drivel to your face.

You weren’t sure if you appreciated it or absolutely abhorred it.

The only thing you were sure of was the fact that he was a rich spoiled kid who very clearly didn’t like you.

He’s also very dedicated to his studies–a quality that had surprised you a little too much. When he wasn’t sending you a harsh glare or laughing at you, he was always sitting at his desk and focusing on whatever task the instructor gave out.

Because the cram school was so prestigious, it made sense for the school to hand out rankings.

Much to Wonhee’s dismay.

37. Lee Wonhee, Baekje Middle School.

She stared at it in shock before almost passing out, her body rocking back and forth until she fell right into you. You caught her, watching as her face didn’t even go into one of sadness or anger, just pure shock.

You look up and scan quickly for Seonghyeon’s name, finding it almost right at the top.

Almost.

2. Eom Seonghyeon, Hwimun Academy.

Your name resides next to the number one, just above his. You grin, now knowing that all his efforts were put to shame because an ‘idiot’ beat him.

Was it bad to think you were better than him? Yes, but it definitely wasn’t as bad as his attitude.

The girls around you look at Wonhee, their stares being either one of fake pity or pure amusement at her frustration. A few even laugh, pointing right at her ranking.

“Bro my parents are actually going to beat my ass.” She said after you both safely returned to the back seats.

“If I’m last in cram school, what the hell am I going to do at our actual school?” She says, her voice muffled as she pressed her face against the desk.

She turns to the side, looking at you as you had cracked open a book amidst her complaining.

“You’re lucky you don’t have to study. Why did your parents even send you here? You get first place in like, every subject.” She whined.

You pat her shoulder to comfort her.

“But on the bright side, you got 78 out of 100! In the actual mock exam you got like 53.” You said. “The people here are just smart freaks.”

She whines, running her hands through her hair. “That’s true… you got first place didn’t you?”

You nod, now noting how a few other kids at the front started eyeing you (more like your uniform) as they looked up at the scoreboard.

You have the slight urge to stick your tongue out and make fun of them for losing against a ‘second rate’ student, but decide against it as you spot him moving to the front.

People move out of their way just to make space for him, like he’s a celebrity or something, and even shush others as soon as he and his friends reach the board.

You want to scoff at how obedient they all seem, like sheep to a farmer.

He stands at the front of his group, staying quiet while his friends either yelled in disappointment or disbelief.

“Baekje middle school? The school right next to ours?” A tall boy with blonde hair exclaims, making Wonhee immediately perk up.

A few of his other friends say a few things before walking back.

“How the hell is first place and last place from the same school?”

At that, Wonhee sinks back in her seat in shame, making herself appear smaller.

Before his friends sat down, you felt an intense gaze from across the room, the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly standing up. You looked up in that direction immediately, only to find Seonghyeon staring right at you.

He doesn’t make a single facial expression, just his eyes glaring holes right into you.

You feel his eyes on you for the rest of the lesson. You don't feel particularly nervous under his gaze, but it does feel annoying when you can’t even look to the right without immediately spotting his dark brown eyes already on you.

At the end of the class, Wonhee leaves first as her parents needed more help at her family’s restaurant, leaving you to walk home all alone.

“I’m home!” You say, calling out to no one in particular.

You assumed that your mother was probably working late, seeing as how her familiar booming voice wasn’t heard anywhere.

But five minutes later, as soon as you had gotten dressed into some comfortable clothes, you hear the front door open.

Your name gets called out loud, making you almost want to cover your ears as you open your door.

You look down the stairs, leaning over the railing as you spot your mother standing just at the bottom.

“We have some new neighbours.” 

“So?”

“So, I want you to help me bake a pie for them!” She urges, using her hand gestures to hurry you up.

You shoved your hands into your hoodie pockets and walked down the stairs, not really hurrying in the way she wanted you to.

She had already disappeared into the kitchen and was probably rummaging through the whole pantry for ingredients.

You can’t remember the last time you had baked something for the neighbours–maybe about seven years ago?

They were a married couple that always used to give you treats every time you came over, and sometimes their oldest daughter would come around to hang out with you. Although she had moved out two years ago, you still look back on those fond memories spent doing nothing but watching TV while she yapped about her new boyfriends and painted her nails.

Their house was very grand too, having a massive pool and a jacuzzi on their second floor.

The couple ended up moving back to their hometown, so you were wondering who could’ve moved in now.

You spotted their moving vans and fancy gear about a week ago, but your family hadn’t been able to introduce themselves yet.

To your disappointment, your mother had decided to bake a fresh apple pie, something that she hadn’t baked in months even when you pleaded for her to.

You had recognised the ingredients for it immediately, making you stand there in disbelief as she chopped up the delicious apples.

You could basically feel the apples crying out as she cut into them, their screams of terror echoing throughout the kitchen.

“They get to have the apple pie because at least I know they’ll cherish it, unlike you, who chows down on anything apple related without savouring it.” She had said, shortly after pulling the pie out of the oven.

It smelled really good, making you almost drool the minute she set it down on the table.

“Just one slice?”

“They’re going to notice a slice missing.”

“Not if we cut the whole thing into slices, and then arranged it into a smaller circle so it wouldn't look like there was a missing slice in the first place.”

“…how did you come up with that?”

You shrug. “So…can we do that?”

That earned you a smack to the shoulder immediately.

After carefully putting the pie onto a fancy porcelain dish, your mother promptly tried to send you out.

“Why do I have to be the one to do it? Wouldn’t it be better if it came from you?”

She shook her head, cleaning up the counter while you sat at the dinner table.

“Think of it as practice for you–I know you’re not very good at interacting with people, but it’s better to make friends with the neighbours now rather than hate them all later. Plus, I heard from Nari across from us that they have a very handsome son.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust, already knowing where the conversation was going. Your parents already knew about your blatant aversion of dating, something you had been doing the minute you hit puberty.

It wasn’t that you hated guys, it was just that you’d rather not go through the efforts of trying to date someone. You were fine with daydreaming of apples and comic characters.

At least they wouldn’t try to cheat on you.

You shivered, suddenly remembering the horror stories that your neighbour once told you.

“I think he’s single too.” She says, turning around to see your reaction.

You had just pressed your lips into a thin line before snatching the pie off the table and walking to the front door.

“Good luck!”

You waved her off, closing the door gently behind you.

The night air is as cold as you expected, making you grateful for the baggy sweats you had thrown on.

You shield the pie against the breeze, feeling the warmth of it through the ceramic.

As you walk up to their front door, shivers suddenly send up your spine. 

For some reason, the house that you once almost spent a whole summer in suddenly felt much colder. You didn’t want to assume anything, but the warmth that the previous family once had was completely gone, despite them only moving out two weeks ago.

Instead of the overgrown vines and fancy bushes, the house was devoid of any plants, looking more like those modern houses that everyone hated.

It was like they had completely removed the whimsy of the old house, the original warm brown replaced by a cold white paint. The stained glass on the door was also gone, completely replaced by a clear minimal one.

You clear your throat before ringing the doorbell, feeling nervous as the seconds ticked by.

You could feel the dish getting colder and colder by the second, the impatience in you cracking.

You counted for a full minute, then two, then three.

As soon as you reached minute six, you rang the doorbell twice, hoping that someone would finally open the door up so that your mother’s hard work wasn’t for nothing.

Soon enough, you heard light footsteps thump on the other side.

The door handle then starts to twist and turn, making a few loud sounds before it finally opens.

You freeze in your spot immediately, making eye contact with the one person you thought it would never be.

Eom Seonghyeon stands in the doorway, wide-eyed and seemingly also having the same thoughts as you.

You both don’t say anything for a while, just staring as the previous coldness seemed to disappear.

Then, you shove the dish into his hands and pull the door closed, ripping the handle from the other side out of his hands and slamming it right in his face.

You run out of the front garden, hurrying back home embarrassed and annoyed.

He was your neighbour.

He lived right next to you, meaning that you’d have to see him every morning and after noon. 

He can keep the dish for all I care!

As soon as you open the front door, your mother yells out from the living room.

“How was it?”

“Fine!” You say, a little too brash.

You run up the stairs and run into your room, closing the door behind you lightly so that your other wouldn’t suspect anything.

You jump into your bed and scream into your pillow.

Wasn’t it enough that you had to see him at cram school?

When you wake up, a sudden anxiousness overcomes you as you look out the window.

There was a room in their house that faced yours, and it was close enough that you could probably jump in from. You had done it a couple of times, as it was the girl’s room.

Sometimes when she’d sneak out the house, she’d come through your window and talk to you for a few minutes before going off to a party or her boyfriend’s house.

You sigh, wondering how she was doing at University now.

The family living there had replaced the old pink with white and grey ones, making you almost annoyed.

Why ruin an already perfect house?

You assumed that no one was probably living in that room, so as you opened the window to let some fresh air in, imagine your surprise when that window opened as well, revealing a half-asleep Seonghyeon.

His hair was messed up, a few pieces sticking up as the back. He looked disheveled and unkempt, much different than he usually did at cram school. He rubbed his eyes as a small breeze blew past.

The minute you made eye contact, you both shut your windows in unison, the sound echoing slightly in the small space between you.

It was like every time you thought you were done with him, he suddenly popped back in like some annoying pimple.

After getting dressed you waited near the living room window, waiting for him to walk out.

You didn’t like having to avoid people, but it was clear that you would both rather not have to interact with each other again.

After a few minutes, you spotted his front door opening.

You waited for a few seconds, your breathing uneven and heart beating faster for no reason. Finally, you spotted him walking out.

He looks as polished and clean as he always does, his hair slightly parted to reveal his forehead.

You wait for another few minutes until he is completely gone before finally walking out.

The amount of interactions you already had with him in the past 24 hours was more than enough to have you sick of each other.

Slamming the door in his face was the first sign of that.

You wait for Wonhee at a convenience store, snacking on some breadsticks. She arrives shortly after, looking very pleased and excited.

“My dad hired another guy to work, so we’ll get to hang out more!”

During your walk to school together, you told her about how you slammed Seonghyeon’s own door in his face, how his room was basically right next to yours, and how you absolutely despised the situation.

“It’s…not that bad.”

You look at her with a deadpanned expression.

“Okay, maybe it is. But, just wait for a few more days and maybe it’ll get better.”

You walked into the school gates, spying the Hwimun guys close by. They all seemed to be minding their business, but every now and then you could see the way they looked down on all of the people from your school. They would laugh and point at any of the kids who looked poor–old sneakers, blazers or shirts two sizes too big.

“They’re so annoying…” you mumbled, Wonhee nodding beside you.

“I’m sure it’s like a thing with rich parents to raise their kids like they’re better than everyone else because they have money.”

Your morning classes were the same as always–Wonhee was either in your ear, feeding you the latest gossip or eating some random snack she got off of one of her other friends.

The trouble came during lunch–mostly everyone was in the cafeteria, eating the lunches they brought from home.

Then, a football smashed through the windows.

It was loud; its impact echoing through the whole place.

Everyone’s conversation had completely disappeared, now replaced by a worried silence.

You had looked up briefly, finding the ball rolling close to your feet.

It made its dramatic stop two feet away from you, the quiet tension between everyone thinner than skin.

Slapped right on top of the ball was a yellow sticky note.

‘Welfare freaks’.

The insult was pretty tame, but a majority of the kids here lived off of it.

It caused a ruckus immediately.

Kids were running from right to left, just to see what was written on the note. The ones that had seen it were mad, all already planning to storm the boys school.

The school couldn’t afford to replace the windows, meaning that it would have to come out of your principal’s own money. While no one appreciated having to come to school, the principal was one of the nicest people there. 

Of course he was strict, but he had to be. 

He was happily married to his husband, and rarely needed to scold the delinquents because they just all loved him.

But he wasn’t rich.

And everyone already knew how much of a pain it was to replace a window.

The teachers had rushed in immediately, forcing everyone to back away from the broken glass. Yells and shouts were now everywhere, a few people trying to run in and grab the ball.

You and Wonhee had finished lunch quickly, not wanting to get caught up in the chaos.

She was enraged at the fact that the private school kids still wanted nothing but to make fun of them.

“That fight already ruined our reputation–why the hell are they still bothering us?”

You shook your head, thinking of the situation.

It wasn’t enough for them.

It was like they enjoyed seeing you all squirm and scream.

To say you were just annoyed was an understatement.

After school and dealing with two whole hours of trying to ignore Eom Seonghyeon’s presence, you peacefully walk inside your house, fully prepared to jump into your bed and take a short nap.

Your parents weren’t home, again probably working late, leaving you in the house all alone.

You had finished your chores and had showered, now in a thin tank top and baggy sweats.

Just as you were about to walk up to your room, the doorbell suddenly rings.

You had audibly groaned, but walked back down and opened the door without looking at who it was.

It’s not until you’re staring at the pie dish from last night, completely empty that you realise who is holding it.

Seonghyeon holds it out, an empty expression on his face. He wears a sweater with the word ‘Rats’ on it and casual black pants.

For some reason, that fact stuns you for a moment.

“My mum says thanks.” He simply says, shoving the dish into your hands before turning away, leaving you still at the door.

He walks straight back to his front yard, not even sparing a single glance back at you.

You hold the dish out, noting that it smelled faintly of a lavender dish soap.

At least they were nice enough to clean it.

Then you think about everything that happened during lunch and immediately retract that statement.

They probably had a maid that cleaned it anyway.