Chapter Text
Miae stared out the window and looked intently at the vibrant green sports field.
Warm sunlight streamed across her face, she recognised a familiar student she had probably seen a couple of times during high school, passing a soccer ball to his team. She tapped her pencil steadily between thumb and index finger as she recalled the days before that Cheol had played soccer with her one day after school. Obviously, she won. Kicking between two trashcans that resulted in both can's lids flipping open and toppling onto the hot concrete sun, she and Cheol had both smelt like burnt trash as Miae's mum scolded them with their heads down, Cheol pushing Miae's head further down with his whole palm with every nagging syllable that was pronounced.
Miae scowled at the memory before blinking back at her textbook, which had somehow been miraculously been opened, but just as she tilted her head to think she had mastered the art of multitasking, she noticed a certain shaggy magpie scribbling doodles on the side of the page. She whipped his head next to the culprit and smacked him square in the head, "What - Jisu!? That textbook cost money! What. . . Is this weird drawing?! THWAK You're lucky I took away all your pens and markers after. . . " Cheol stared pensively at the commotion that was happening at the front of the class and glanced up at the clock on the ceiling: 12:36. Only four absolutely excruciating minutes gazing at those two play-wrestle together.
Cheol’s eyes flicked back to the clock. 12:37. The second hand dragged itself forward like it was mocking him, each tick stretching into eternity. He shifted in his seat, jaw tightening as his gaze returned to the front of the class.
Miae was laughing manically now, her hands busy in Jisu’s hair. One by one, she clipped in bright, star-shaped pins - yellow, pink, blue - her face glowing with amusement as Jisu tilted his head to help her. The sight made Cheol’s chest burn.
His pencil snapped between his fingers. He hadn’t even realized he was gripping it that hard. The girl sitting beside him flinched at the sound, her shoulders stiffening. Cheol glanced at her, but her name escaped him. She shrank back when she caught the sharpness in his expression, the storm brewing in his eyes.
12:38.
Miae leaned closer to Jisu, adjusting a crooked clip with a tenderness that twisted Cheol’s stomach. His knuckles whitened against the desk. He wanted to look away, but his eyes refused to obey.
The seatmate shifted again, inching her chair away from him. Cheol noticed, but didn’t care. His frustration was a living thing, pulsing through his veins, radiating off him in waves strong enough to make her uneasy.
12:39.
Another star clip. Another laugh. Cheol’s teeth ground together. The girl beside him dared a glance, then quickly looked down at her notebook, not wanting to look at Lucifer's dark eyes.
12:40. One minute left. One minute of torture.
Cheol’s eyes narrowed, his stare drilling into the back of Jisu’s head, then sliding to Miae’s delighted face.
The bell beeped, echoing through the halls, a sudden release from the suffocating minutes. Chairs scraped, voices rose, and Miae turned immediately toward Cheol. Her eyes lingered on him, expectant, as if she was waiting for him to say something.
But before he could move, Jisun called out from the doorway, waving frantically. “Miae! Hurry, come to the bathroom - we need to tell you something!”
She hesitated, biting her lip, then shot Cheol a quick apologetic look. Her face twisted into a playful grimace, mouthing sorry! before she darted away with them.
Cheol huffed silently. He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, but the annoyance in his veins betrayed him. As he picked up over his textbooks, he the weight of someone staring at him.
Cheol turned, Jisu's expression was unreadable, and walked toward him with a calmness that just felt so. . . natural. He stopped just close enough, leaned slightly, and muttered, “. . . Jealous?”
Jisu smirked, tapping one of the star-shaped clips still perched in his hair. “Guess so,” he added lightly, before strolling away. He pushed the door open lazily with his elbow, the gesture dripping with casual arrogance.
Cheol’s composure cracked. His fists clenched, his breath sharp. Fury surged through him, and for a moment he nearly lunged forward, chasing after Jisu, ripping off those ridiculous clips along with his hair.
But then his friends approached, calling his name. "Che-ol!" They slowed as they neared, their voices faltering. The sight of him - shoulders rigid, eyes blazing, a dark aura practically radiating off his frame - was enough to make them stop short.
One exchanged a nervous glance with another, and without a word, they backed away quietly, leaving Cheol alone in the storm of his anger.