00:00:00..
He hated all of this. The numbers on his wrist had started changing quickly the day before his arrival from Okinawa to Seoul, where he was going to study now, going to the new school was unavoidable and his mood was awful. Mainly for the fact that he had to leave the place he considered as his home for a forgein country where all he knew about it was the language (his mother, for some reason, insisted in teaching him korean— to get in contact with a part of his roots, she said, once he had asked her).
Damned big city, damned parents for sending him this far — this country was the bane of his existence, and he quite missed his friends (and the manga club, but that wasn’t something he would admit out loud) —. Damn this whole soulmate bullshit. Damn it all.
Barely catching the amount of sleep he needed to work properly during the day, Hiroki rushed to get the school uniform — not even bothering to check if his tie was properly placed — and throwing a package of cigarettes and a lighter inside his backpack along with the books and notebooks he needed for the day, the black haired quickly jumped to the cheap bike he had managed to get his parents sent from home, turning on the engine and driving to the school.
————
Introductions were annoying, the japanese exchange student noted after the second period. Answering questions about what his name meant, answering questions about Japan—being forced to spill his hobbies, and personal information wasn’t something that he liked. That’s why he found himself quickly asking to be directed to the gym, flashing a rather grateful grin to the classmate that had lead him there.Â
The numbers on his wrist were getting closer to zero with every second.
Plopping down on the ground behind the school’s gym, Hiroki quickly rushed to take out his lighter and a cigarette, closing his eyes as the smoke filled his lungs. Brown hues opened up quickly before focusing on his wrist.
                     00:00:01
Sparing a glance at his side, Hiroki’s eyes widened slightly as he stared at the blonde haired male sitting quite near him, dirty blond hair and teasing grin pressed on the other’s lips, holding between his fingers a stick similar to his.Â
Oh.
"Mind giving me your name, cutie? It seems like we’ll be stuck together for some time." He silently watched as the blonde haired showed him his wrist.
        00:00:00
                            ”Hiroki.”
              “Jiho. Can I have a cigarette?”
                       ”Get your fucking own.”
         ”Feisty, I like that.”
                          ”...Shut up.”
                           ”Make me.”
This was going to be a disaster, but— He was willing to enjoy every second of it, the black haired thought, once Jiho’s playful grin was directed to him
