Chapter Text
Hyuna’s life is alright, really. Her personal life is alright. Her school life is alri- no, it was alright. past tense.
It was alright until she met the infuriatingly beautiful boy in his third year of high school. No, her pathetic self could never have comprehended where her life would go from there.
It all started when she was skipping class - as she often did - on one torturously fateful day. Her rich, long brown hair – not in its usual uptight high ponytail neither pulled up by her hot pink clawclip - cascaded over her shoulders, brushing against her waist as she leaned against a wall, cigarette in mouth.
Smoking had originally not been on her bingo card – but as far as certain irresponsible mothers and absentee fathers go, what could an adolescent such as herself do to deal with the stress? Hyuna’s otherwise carefree lifestyle felt like a fleeting fever dream – those blissful fifteen or so years of her life she now cherished like chocolate melting between her fingers. Like a wounded bird meeting its bitter end through a crash landing, those light-hearted days drew to a twisted closure the day her father left – leaving her mother a drunken mess, incapable of being a part of her or her brother, Hyunwoo’s lives.
Hyuna didn’t hate her mother, she simply couldn’t – but over a stupid man? A man that left you for dead, no less?
What did her mother call it all those years ago? Love? What a fucking let down.
If it were her being dumped like a half-eaten gas station hotdog, she'd either remarry the absolute most richass man she could find or she'd spend her money on dashing satin dresses rather then soju bottles to show everyone she was doing just fine (she wasn't).
Her spiraling fantasies were interrupted, however, over what seemed to be the gruff voice of an adult bickering. The nasally voice cut through the air, yanking her by the collar back into the present - back to the crisp air and the warm, ashy smell of cigarette along with the bitter aftertaste lingering on her tongue. Alerted to the unappealing possibility of being discovered, Hyuna fumbled, her fingers slipped through the soft folds of the cloth, long, glittery nails she somehow found the time to get done catching on the Prussian blue fabrics briefly as she shoved the tobacco stick into her skirt pocket, only to realize with an unpleasant lurch that her favorite lipgloss was missing. Shit, did I drop it?
She didn't have much time to stress on its whereabouts as approaching footsteps and faint voices coming in her direction sent her scrambling to reach the first form of cover she set her eyes on – which turned out to unfortunately be a small stack of storage boxes likely to serve as a flimsy hiding spot. Of course, she didn't exactly have many options in the first place if any, and no one was about to snoop around around there. hopefully.
Hyuna cautiously yet hurriedly stepped over various scattered sports materials - it was just her luck that some these things were quite difficult not to knock over. Of course, luck was a fucked up thing, so ultimately she was the one getting knocked over; tripping and losing her balance yet still somehow catching herself on all fours, barely having the time to applaud herself for the feat as her head knocked into someone else's.
Locking gazes with that someone, Hyuna saw that it was a boy - most probably around her age - knees held close to his chest, rather tender hands cradling a Rubiks cube. The first thing she noticed about him was that he was pretty – unfairly pretty, if you ask her. Short, tousled honey blonde hair, slightly long bangs brushing his long, voluminous eyelashes and amber orbs with lemony hues. Eyes glinting strangely with light as he looked at her.
He opened his mouth to say something, most probably to inquire as to why she was there, who she was, or perhaps simply to tell her to fuck off, but Hyuna snapped out of her trance and instantly clamped her hands over his lips as the footsteps seemed to halt near them, tension radiating off every inch of her body. She pulled her hands off the schoolboy’s mouth, offering him a half-hearted apologetic smile for the sake of courtesies, which she assumed was rather unappealing anyway given her sweat streaked face.
Uncomfortably close to the guileless stack of boxes their backs were pressed against, Hyuna heard the stranger speak, seemingly on a phone call of some sort. “Mr. Heperu? I hope you realize how big of an opportunity this is,” the way he spoke was sultry, and the man seemed to speak in a “no-nonsense” business voice which instilled no comfort whatsoever, “Yes, Luka is exceptional, and I am honored to tutor him, but I cannot keep this up forever. I have a better offer for you – and your son . . . mainly him, in fact. A lifetime opportunity, you could call it.”
Silence as the person on the other end of the call spoke, inaudible to them. Silence in which her pale, stormy gunmetal eyes met his buttermilk ones, conveying things unsaid. Met with his gaze, Hyuna pressed her index finger to her lips in silent plea. As if in bitter response, the young boy’s mouth curved into a mischievous smile as he loosened his grip on the unsuspecting rubics cube, tender fingers innocently letting go of what could very well be her object of destruction. She swore the fucking world went into slow motion as she watched, helplessly as it dropped to the ground with an unexpectedly loud clatter, causing Hyuna to flinch.
“Is someone there?” The man talking on the phone said, startled, unpleasant yet alert. His oily voice was a curse to the ears - more so in this situation.
Hyuna’s knuckles tensed. Just as she was about to punch the pretty boy for all he was worth with the pure intent of sending him to Jupiter, he gracefully got up from the ground, dusting off his admiral blue school trousers as he did. He paused before leaving, his back facing her, hand rested suspiciously on one of the boxes at the top of the stack, fingers tracing along its surface, wiping away the layer of dust – only then did she notice the curious purple hue tinting the tips of his fingers. Alas, those two fingers were the ones he used to knock the box off its comfortable porch on the top of the stack serving as her hiding place – almost blowing her cover. What. the. fuck.
Hyuna ducked as the muffled sound of the damned box thumping onto the concrete floor reached her ears, sure her head has been exposed briefly. She wouldn’t have given a single shit about getting in trouble or held back, if it weren’t for the sake of Hyunwoo, alone at home.
A few moments elapsed and she looked up – the obnoxious pretty boy was still there, his honeyed gaze burning holes through her face. That offensively pretty princess face cracking into yet another guileful leer - it wasn't pure malice, with a certain innocence which both annoyed her and pissed her off. She stuck out her middle finger in response to the lip service.
The dejected sound of the call being cut seemingly hurriedly was heard faintly from where they were. The youth turned, the ends of his bangs brushing his lashes, briefly covering his amber orbs. Hyuna's gaze followed him as he moved to where the man was.
“You?” The man’s stupefied demeanor quickly switched to a more professional attitude, “. . . No matter, I was going to look for you anyways. What were you doing there, young mister? Are you alone?” He added the last part peeking suspiciously over the boy's head, eyes lingering where Hyuna was slumped, barely hidden.
When he spoke, Hyuna heard it from where she was crouched, “I was simply catching up on some sleep in my free time.” His voice was like his face – pretty yet obnoxious, like honey dripping from the devil’s tongue, “I’m afraid I’ve long since been made aware of these arrangements by your manager and . . . father. Maintaining a good sleep cycle prevents eyebags, no?”
“So you know? You’ll take it up?”
“I doubt such a thing is up to me, but I believe father will.”
Hyuna didn’t hear anything after that as their voices faded into the distance, nor did she concern herself with it any further, calming the quickened pulse of her heart, having escaped detention by a hair’s breadth.
Or should I say, by two fingers’ breadth?
She thought, cussing the boy out mentally, her mind wandering to the purple hue of his fingertips.
he’s probably into painting or something.
One thing was for sure, though. She caught herself thinking about the boy – that devious smile of his, slightly long bangs brushing his cheekbones, eyes the color of cornsilk and honey and the aloof yet disgustingly alluring voice of a siren.
If she knew his name, she would add it on her personal blacklist.