Chapter Text
Where do I start? Where the hell am I supposed to start? From the main protagonists? In what aspects did it manifest itself? Or what is his true intent? Or better yet, what are its peculiar characteristics? From. Where. Damn. I have to. Start? Fuck!
Until this morning, when I was comfortably curled up under the warm blankets of the bed, still sleepy, I thought I knew the answer. But now, my mind is completely in crisis, refusing to follow my instructions. I feel tense. My heart is pounding, my palms are sweaty and sticky, and my breathing raises and lowers my chest at an alarming rate. No, I have to calm down, I absolutely have to take a moment to recover.
"Sunoo! Come on, go ahead... art history is your favorite subject, why are you scared?"
Wrong, my dear inner voice! I'm not afraid of art history, I'm afraid of the new professor who arrived at the beginning of the year. Unfortunately, Professor Kim went on maternity leave just before school started, on the eve of my senior year, just when I was supposed to take the entrance exams. My God, the mere thought of what awaits me in the coming months gives me the shivers. The new professor replacing Kim for the entire school year is Lim Jaebeom, a recent graduate with a passion for art that might even surpass mine, which is saying something.
On March 1st, the first day of the first semester, Lim Jaebeom made an excellent impression on all of us students. His presence was like a breath of fresh air. He presented himself as a 26-year-old with long raven hair and feline eyes that could have put a Siamese cat to shame. His eyes shone under a thick blanket of dark lashes, creating a captivating contrast that did not go unnoticed.
I mean, it's not every day you have such a good-looking professor behind the desk, instead, perhaps, of a fifty-year-old with the last remnants of his hair stuck to him. I don't want to sound like a fucking superficial, I'm just saying we've had rare luck, I feel compelled to take note of that.
After that first unforgettable meeting, which had made more than one of us dream of a dream wedding on the beach with the handsome professor, reality brought us back down to earth. As the saying goes, "appearances can be deceiving"... and a few days later we found ourselves faced with clear proof of its veracity. We thought that the professor, young and brilliant, would facilitate our path, also in light of the upcoming exams. The gap of a few years had made us suppose that we could establish a relationship of collaboration and sincere friendship, a true team close to supporting each other.
We thought we could trust Lim Jaebeom, but he turned out to be a real tyrant who enjoys watching us wallow in despair. Every time we come back from the bathrooms, he comes over to smell us and find even the faintest trace of nicotine. He demands perfect questions, and if you happen to be silent for a single minute, without saying a word he sends you back to the desk with a bored wave of his hand and a nice F written in the school register, next to your last name. As happened last week to Jungwon, my poor best friend.
Precisely for this reason, I studied like crazy, even highlighting the book's captions. Anxiety and tension lead you to make rather absurd gestures, and this is something I say from personal experience. This morning, at the first hour, Professor Lim would call me to the chair to question me about Expressionism. I had prepared a simple and impactful speech, easy to remember, but which would surprise him. However, my mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, like a hive of flies.
«Sunoo! Brake!» My thoughts are drowned out by Mom's voice, sitting next to me, her fingers clenched to the panic-proof handle, and her temples beaded with cold sweat. Suddenly, I remember how easy it is to open your eyes and reactivate your vision. Only now do I notice the endless line behind the red light and the dozen cars stopped with their brake lights on, which immediately stand out. Without thinking twice, I press the brake pedal with such confidence and brutality that the wheels whistle, nailing just inches from the green car in front of me.
Those few inches that separate us from a devastating collision seem endless. The seat belts squeeze against our windshield, preventing us from bumping into it, but they can't prevent a rather unpleasant mild whiplash. The driver of the car behind us immediately expresses his frustration with a loud honking sound, letting us know how distracted I was. Irritation is immediate. I roll down the window and the cold morning air invades the passenger compartment. As soon as I can lean out, I watch that madman who dared to play.
«I'm a new driver's license, don't you understand? Are you blind?», I scream, without a shred of fear, hoping he'll hear me. «Sunoo, please, let's forget it. He is a decidedly disrespectful dement, and you are one with your head in the clouds. I'd say you're even», Mom advises me, placing her hand on my thigh, exuding a sense of calm and warmth.
«imbecile», I agree, pushing my head back into the car and rolling up the window. The legs tremble with greater intensity and the irises burn.
«You really need to be more careful behind the wheel. When you're on the exam, think they might fail you for something similar», scolds me with the severity of a mother, breathing a sigh of relief that she didn't rear-end anyone – and thus avoid a possible car accident.
«Honestly, my only thought now is the F waiting for me wing first hour», I mutter, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel as I wait for the light to turn green. A way to vent the agitation.
«Don't worry, you absolutely don't have to think about it now. I know well how you feel. You can't remember anything, can you?» asks with a smile, creating a lovely, comforting grimace at the corners of his mouth.
«fucking nothing», I nod, rolling my eyes, ignoring her attempt to calm me down.
«Didn't we agree to reduce the number of swear words?», she points out to me by raising an eyebrow, this time sarcastically.
«I'm eighteen, if I don't tell her now I have to tell her when I'll be a victim of the midlife crisis? That would be very uncool» i reply as I let my forehead frown because of that evil remark.
«You can say them at any age, but know that they won't make you look cool. You're already cool being my son», she says sternly, glancing at the traffic light.I roll my eyes, trying to defend my position. «But they reinforce the concept and, above all, give you the opportunity to vent», I observe, aware of the fact that my mother understands well my need to express what was swirling inside me.
«However, if you want advice from someone who hasn't yet reached midlife crisis, avoid thinking too much about the speech you've prepared. When you're there, in front of that asshole professor, you'll remember everything, I assure you». He explains in a soft, serene voice, ignoring my objection.«Ah-ha, you said "asshole." Penalty for you», I point it out, purposely mocking her and making her giggle.
Finally the traffic light turns green. A few weeks ago I was terrified that the car would stall because I hadn't yet learned how to handle the clutch and gas. Now, however, I am about ninety percent confident in my abilities. It seems like a natural reaction: I get the hang of it and restart the car smoothly, avoiding creating a tangle of cars. This boosts my confidence a little, and even Mom, who had been holding her breath, exudes relief.
«Um, not bad, you're getting better», he praises me, finally letting go of the panic handle, which had me a little annoyed.
«I can't let a clutch ruin my life, can I?» joke to reduce tension.
Just as I finish speaking, the phone, tucked into the outside pocket of my jacket, starts ringing. Jungkook's song fills the silence of the cockpit, a clear indication that Jungwon has put his hand in. As I reach out to grab my phone, my mom gives me a dirty look. I pretend not to see her, focusing on who's calling me just fifteen minutes into class. The display shows my best friend's nickname.
I'm on the verge of answering, trying to press the green call icon with my thumb, when my mother anticipates me with a quick movement and a feline snap, she snatches the phone from my hands.
«You don't use your cell phone while driving! », he scolds me severely, moving his index finger in disapproval.
«But you always use it!» I exclaimed, my mouth wide open in amazement and offense. His sudden and decidedly unkind gesture had taken me by surprise.
«Let's put it this way, do you want to have your license revoked before you even start driving?» he asks in a provocative tone, tilting his head slightly to make his dark irises stand out just like mine.
«No... obviously not» I reply in a low voice, puffing out my cheeks and lowering my shoulders in resignation.«I'm glad to hear that. You'll see Jungwon in five minutes, he can wait» he says, after which the phone stops ringing and he falls asleep in my mother's hands, the screen now off.
«Pay attention to the road, otherwise I'll make you ride a scooter next time, or worse, I'll make you walk.»With no other choice, since otherwise I would have to wake up half an hour early to walk, I just snort. However, the destination is just around the corner.
My high school is a short distance from the traffic lights where we risked our lives, further down. Those walls are not only the place where, today, I will have to face my professor, but also the theater of a daily civil war, the most interesting of our times. Or so we like to call it.
Decelis High School, one of the three elite schools in all of Asia, had decided for about a decade to inaugurate a specialized major to help people with immense talent realize their dreams and create a name for themselves: the arts department which opposes the classical department. It offered, in particular, generous scholarships to those who demonstrated that they had an artist inside them. And that's how I, Kim Sunoo, the son of a fallen writer who now worked in a restaurant and a beautiful clerk in a makeup shop, found myself within those walls.
The artistic streak, which has accompanied me all my life, has allowed me to pass the entrance test, making me part of that elitist world. The art department, to which I belonged and financed by state funds, was the main enemy of all those who, instead, attended the classical department. Two worlds too different; most of my department were the children of ordinary people, some struggling to make ends meet due to their parents' small wages, while on the other side of the school there was a dystopia of kids who seemed to have never set foot outside the Gangnam neighborhood. Luxury cars and designer clothes, that's how their world was made.
Those differences had always kept us apart, creating a rivalry that had always been ongoing. We, defined by them as "toxic", "ticks", "weirdos" also because of our certainly singular appearance and style. And they, instead, the "perfectines".
Decelis High School is also home to my sworn enemy, my antithesis, the one who never misses an opportunity to stand in my way and fuel hatred between our factions.
The upcoming question had almost made me forget Park Sunghoon's existence. I'm practically intolerant of everything about him: his ways of doing and thinking, his ideologies, his rationality, even simply his way of dressing. I have to face Park again today, I have to resist the urge to tear my hair out and make him swallow it again today.
There are only two things that manage to make me stretch my nerves in moments like these, twisted in a tangle of undeniable tension and nervousness – and since I literally ran out of nails by gnawing them all the way down to the flesh and was forced to dye them black enamel so as not to show my skin flayed red, I exclude this technique a priori –, that is, pressing giant headphones against your ears, starting my all-time favorite song, David Bowie's "Heroes," and carrying a cigarette to the lip, lighting it up short-lived.
This combination has always managed to put my mind at ease. I decide to follow my mother's advice: I don't think about the slightest word of the speech I should have given in a few minutes; I empty my mind, let my thoughts flow, and try not to reflect on nothing at all, emptying it of all the negative notes that fill the sheet music of my psyche. Away from Professor Lim, away from Park Sunghoon and his crew of losers, away from the anxiety about the future... away from everything!
I need to relax, I need to pretend that I'm not in Seoul right now. I am in some Caribbean paradise with a nice cocktail in my hand, in full contemplation and meditation. I close my eyes, gently close my eyelids, and surrender to the desired darkness. I take a drag on my cigarette and let the song carry me along.
I ignore the typical cold of the first morning of April, quite biting that I feel in my legs, bandaged only by baggy jeans. I ignore the hair that is moved by the fingers of the wind —which only ruffles the pink skein on my head—, the bangs that tickle my forehead.
I don't know if I'm being taken for crazy because I'm standing in front of the Decelis entrance gate, with my eyes closed. I'm Sunoo, just for a few moments. I'm escaping objectivity, at least for now.
There is Bowie's voice and the cigarette, and that's it. There is my essence that is lifted from the ground with all my weight to bear.
My friend pounces on me so impetuously that it gives me a real scare! So much so that the cigarette slips out of my fingers and ends up splashing on the floor.
The first thing I do, as soon as I open my eyes again, is take off my headphones to realize what he's babbling about and then I focus on his mood today: the light eyeliner that frames his feline eyes, accentuated also by the blond, almost silver, of his hair. Yang Jungwon has always been a cat to me, due to the graceful movements and irises that I am able to bring to another dimension the one who looks at himself in it. Except now... because Jungwon has storm features on him now.
«Do you have any idea that you just made me lose a year of my life?» I say to him in a low voice, because obviously I'm angry about the waste of the cigarette and the mega scare he made me take.
Oh, and about the song being interrupted in the middle! And it's something I really, really hate. He even knows about it. I hate living at 50%, it's inconceivable to my head.
«I've been calling you for a long time, waving, waving my arms but you seem to be in a trance», Jungwon glances at me, he's pretty frowning too.
«I was trying to calm down a bit, you know... since Lim is going to question me soon, but you stopped my attempt» I notice grinding my teeth, feeling sad about that cigarette that's gone now.
«I called you on your cell phone a little while ago» ignore what I just told him, crossing his arms at his chest.
Bad sign when he crosses his arms to his chest, bad sign. The prelude to something ominous.
«I was driving» I reply as I step down to admire the tragic end of the cigarette, unsalvageable.
«You could have answered and put the speakerphone on» he insists, hitting his boot nervously against the concrete.
«My mom ripped off my cell phone before I could do it. By the way, stop rummaging through my ringtones, I don't want Jungkook when they call me» I utter in a low voice, as a warning, however that he doesn't allow replies.
The cigarette went straight into a small muddy puddle, impossible to save. Passed to better life.
«If you get up I'll give you one» Jungwon asserts by patting me on the head to earn my attention, albeit gently, «and anyway sorry, I didn't mean to contaminate your beloved cell phone with the best idol of our generation at all! But I remind you that on Saturday night we got drunk and I certainly, without wanting to, got to work on it».
When I hear the little magic word I quickly snap to my feet — knees bending guided by the desire for a new pretext to get a few minutes less life — drawing a happy smile on my lip features. Cigarettes before entering class are a habit I don't intend to give up.
«You must have been right outside» It makes me laugh to imagine Jungwon lying on the parquet floor of my room on his secret mission.
«Alcohol works wonders, just think of Modigliani. He drank a lot and was a genius, coincidences?» He supports almost proudly, then keeps his word by offering me a rollie from his metal box with Aristocats's Matisse on it (a gift my friends and I gave him for his birthday). One of his most precious treasures.
Without further delay I make to take one, turning it on later, starting again from where my friend had interrupted me.
«What did you want this morning, by the way? Why did you call me? Usually in the morning you're always too comatose to even dial a number» I ask him as I pour the smoke out of my lips, impatient.
«But how? Did you forget? Wow... Lim has really fused your brain, Noo» Jungwon makes a frowning and surprised expression at the same time, opening his irises wide, taking on a spirited look.
«What? What don't I know?» I'm trying to shed some light on what I should technically remember. But, alas, it is the same situation as the one I studied on Expressionism: absolute emptiness.
Fuck that damn professor! I can't wait to give this presentation and get it out of my balls. It's absurd, it's incredible, not even math has ever had this effect on me. And then I don't shine at all in math, I can't follow rules imposed by anyone other than me.
«I called you because I wanted to let you know that Park has already arrived at school and that you needed to hurry. Do you know what he wanted to do today? You at least remember this, right?», Jungwon seems worried as he explains the situation to me in small steps.
The dimple that forms on his right cheek due to the forced half-smile he is trying to raise upward is also further proof of this.
«...Ruin our lives at the Artistic?» I venture by turning a blind eye, cautiously.
In my defense, it's a lot of work to be on Sunghoon and all the bullshit he's hunting against us! I usually don't miss anything it does, I have like an anti-Sunghoon Park radar, almost as if I had installed it under our skin from time immemorial.
«Um, that wouldn't be news. And okay... I'll light you up. This morning he wanted to go to Principal Min to tell him that the bathrooms on their floor do nothing but smell of smoke. He intends to take the blame on us at the Artistico to make the bathrooms on their floor become exclusive, in short we would no longer have access to them. We can only pee in the bathrooms on our floor» and here Jungwon finally spits out the toad, a nice big toad.
And suddenly everything comes back to the surface, like lightning illuminating the dark, dark sky, devoid of stars.
Now I remember everything!
I remember the complaints of Sunghoon and those of the third A, closely followed by sections B and C, the sections of the enemy faction. The complaints about the hoods of smoke that form in the cubicles of the toilets, the complaints about those poor guys in the Artistic Department who do nothing but cannette themselves inside them or even simply smoke in them.
«Bullshit!» I blur without meaning to, I feel a certain familiar warmth inflaming my cheeks, first rosebuds, finally petals unfurled, «As if those daddy's kids didn't smoke in the bathrooms too. What a little saint they are, huh? But don't tell me! Park is becoming more and more hypocritical and incoherent, everyone is becoming more and more hypocritical and incoherent».
«Even the new students, those of the first, it's as if they were instructing them to hate us a priori to carry on this feud so... poetic, they would call it» Jungwon informs me by hissing words full of hatred.
«And so do we with those who arrive new every year. It's not right that they get fucked by those idiots, it's right that they know how to protect themselves from certain elements», I agree by shivering and squeezing the lighter in my left hand.
My knuckles turn white no matter how hard I put on them.
«Shall we move our asses and go put a spoke in their wheels, or do we still want to bask in the bitches, exactly?» Jungwon suggests, grabbing my wrist at the same time, impatiently taking his.
«Of course we're going to put a spoke in that kid's wheels... he doesn't even want us to use the same toilets, there's something absurd about all this», I assert with certainty, heading towards the entrance to Decelis, passing the large and majestic oak tree that has coexisted with us students for years now, in this garden that decorates the institute.
«You're perhaps a little too surprised, dear Noo. It's always Park... what did you expect?».
Jungwon and I are running like crazy towards the presidency, which is located in the eastern part of Decelis High School, on the first floor, the daddy's money sons.
As we go through their plan, at a very high speed, we pay attention not to end up on students who are slowly entering their respective classes and above all we are careful not to run over any teachers who are older, it would be a disaster. Then yes we would give victory to the other side.
Of course, even if we hadn't predicted it, several looks overflowing with discontent and contempt are thrown at us as we advance. It looks like they're witnessing the passage of two aliens complete with antennas and not two normal third-party boys. For them, two boys with platinum hair and the other with pink hair are synonymous with "aliens". Considering that Jungwon has ears full of holes and various earrings, and that I have a headband in the nostril of my nose, and a belly button piercing in plain sight, we represent the very extreme of the alien race. And that's not an understatement.
But since Jungwon and I have the rare gift of indifference, we manage to care deeply about our neighbors' thoughts, especially when they represent nothing to us. It is good not to give immeasurable importance and confidence to every human who breathes, too little time to bear every judgment, every opinion.
«Is he already inside the principal's office?» I ask so much for certainty, panting and begging for a breath.
«Obviously, the prince didn't waste time!» Jungwon confirms me, gasping for air in return.
Here, I can see the entrance to the secretariat after which it's the presidency's turn, according to the location of the high school map.
I'm so angry, that the question with Lim goes off my mind, I'm putting it on the back burner. I certainly do it unconsciously, without wanting to, when it comes to Park unfortunately I don't answer for my actions, sometimes I act without even thinking. I look like a rabid dog when it comes to him, it's now common knowledge.
Here we go, Principal Min's door is a hand's breadth from my nose!I place my hand over the bronze handle with the ancient air, cold to the touch, I open it. I push the door open with a certain impetuosity and I immediately consider this a point against me, I realize it too late. After all, I represent the accused.
Park Sunghoon stands there, standing before Min Yoongi's giant, refined, and stately cherrywood chair. The latter's color, burnt red, stands out in the middle of her office, an elegant decor that perfectly reflects the principal's soul.
My archenemy, nicknamed the Ice King because of his indisputable angelic beauty but at the same time by the coldness he gives to every living being in existence, is looking at me —incinerating— with a sharp gaze, naturally displaying a very merciless crooked smile. He keeps his head high and all his superiority pours out on me, he feels superior and, in reality, on an economic level he is.
But nevertheless I do not succumb under him, his bank account does not frighten me, I do not let his gaze set me back one step.His pitch-black irises, dark as night, scrutinize me, labeling me a threat —a weed to be uprooted, uprooted at the root, which ruins his and their garden in general made of glitter and illusions—. His eyes try to dig deep into mine, simple and very light brown, almost embracing the color of the sunset. They try to make me feel a shred of terror, or they try –as I usually think– to enter me through them, to find my thoughts, my most hidden fears. They try to find a flaw in my system.
And it's almost something elementary.
Like all existing, breathing humans on this planet, I have one flaw-in fact, many flaws-in my system. Maybe hundreds, thousands — I've learned to accept the burden. The trick is not to let her know who might use them to harm you, the trick is to know how to hide them with due foresight and mastery. Blink, watch, and be careful not to let out what it takes to fall.
Sunghoon also has his flaws —an infinite number behind those black irises —, which I am still unaware of, as he is of mine. To be honest, I'm not even interested, I mean, in my way of thinking and my character, they lead me to ignore details like these.
Like any normal routine school day, he wears an expensive-looking tailored shirt, with a jacket over it that's definitely worth more than my house and my car. His suit makes him almost a lawyer and not a 19-year-old; I could swear by anything I, in my five years of high school, have never seen Park Sunghoon dressed casually. Never. I can't say for sure whether this is disturbing or not.
And then he keeps repeating that we, our department, are the weird ones.
A perceptible movement of his boss makes me shift my attention to his hair, even the night-black ones, impeccably in order. I've never seen anyone succubus to chaos once, maybe a couple of times at some school party when he was too drunk to think about it. Never again, always kept constantly in order without ever that black hair being stained any color. His composure makes him an impeccable, unattainable object, desired by any living being within these walls and for this very reason he is known as The King in this school.
As he continues to smile tyrannically, the edge of his jaw twitches, angered by my dwelling on him without asking permission.
A real antinomy with me, dressed in low-waisted baggy jeans that touch the ground and a sweater —bought at the second-hand vintage market— that reveals the healing belly button piercing.
When we're both in the same environment we go out of tune, there's nothing we can do, like now.
«Well, well, well, look who we have here» opens his mouth the one who considers us almost like infected people, without ceasing to show off that smirk suitable for taking dicks and slaps.
«Evidently my presence is particularly welcome this morning» the principal turns to me and Jungwon, amused by that situation. «May I know with whom I have the honor?».
«Kim Sunoo and Yang Jungwon, section three D, Artistic major» I respond politely, without ceasing to look with palpable contempt at Park.
An invisible thread, each time, keeps us glued to each other. When we are together, everything else in the world takes a back seat.
«I would say that we then have two high-profile founders of the two addresses. What can I help you with, gentlemen?» asks Min with a very friendly smile, much too friendly... that Sunghoon hasn't dropped the bomb yet?
«We are here because Park here has something to say to her and we would like to listen since it is a matter that interests us» I explain with all the calm I have, assuming an adamant air.
«Yes, the boy was about to tell me something. Am I right?» the principal dedicates himself to Sunghoon, raising an eyebrow.
«Of course, sir» she retorts the enemy in a disgusting sugary voice, «I just wanted to point out to you that in the bathrooms on our floor, there is a constant and repeated smell of smoke. I know for a fact that we kids from good families, so to speak, are good and polite people, respectful of the environment and public places. We would never dare to consume a cigarette inside the walls of this high school...».
«This is a serious accusation from you, boy, how can you have even the slightest evidence? It's well known that most Decelis students smoke, and trust me, I know for a fact that many kids from good families like you say also smoke» Min Yoongi loudly clears his throat before uttering thoughtful words.
«Sir, my classmates and I, since we are now in our third year, have taken it upon ourselves to educate the new students, you understand? We are committed to teaching respect and preservation of this institute, we care. La Decelis is not only important to us, but also to our families. And then just take a look at me and... him» The King speaks without abandoning that honeyed tone, but when he reaches the end of the sentence, when he goes to pronounce the last term, he does so by spitting venom and hatred.
«I, the perfect example of a boy from a good family, studious, with good grades, always well dressed and composed, and passionate about literature. He, the exact copy of a street performer not to mention a homeless man, dressed as if he were from some carnival, certainly a cannabis admirer and pink-haired» enunciates with a certain solemnity when he talks about himself, only to descend again into contempt when he talks about me.
«Principal, you are absolutely right, there is no evidence. It could have been anyone smoking in the bathrooms, like it could have been no one. And sometimes no one, it could turn out to be a real surprise». I'll bang after listening to all that nonsense
«Are you accusing us?» Sunghoon hisses, punching Min's chair, contracting his jaw even more.«Nobody accuses anyone. This intervention on your part was completely useless» Jungwon intervenes, with his arms strictly crossed. He's not even breathing because of how much he's woven them into our chests.
«Where are you going, my dear boy? Should we perhaps install cameras? There would be a lot of discontent with everyone, being spied on on the way to the bathroom is definitely inappropriate. At most, I can highly recommend going outside to smoke instead of inside the bathroom fixtures, during break times and not during class times.» he declares the man with a certain worry, settling better into his huge chair, «there, I can do this. Bring me some concrete evidence of someone smoking during class hours, then I can take action. Closing one eye is fine, closing both is foolish».
«He will have his evidence, principal, he has my word» Sunghoon exposes by raising his chin.
«And you will have mine too, sir» I conclude, with a firm voice.
No one here will get in trouble because of a hypocrite, none of those in my class at least. As soon as I set foot there I will immediately inform Taesan and Heeseung— they must be careful with the wolf lurking.
Go to class? But what time is it? Did the bell ring? Damn! Fuck! The presentation with Lim!
I have to run, I absolutely have to fly to class otherwise there will be serious trouble, not Park's threat. The professor must not think that I want to skip his hour, nossignore.
«I really have to apologize, Principal Min, but we absolutely have to go to class.» I say in anxiety when I notice that it's past eight twenty, the bell has already rung.
Jungwon by the wrist and, without giving him time to say "goodbye," I drag him away with me.
We don't even get a quarter of the way down the aisle when my arm free from Jungwon's grip is tugged back with little kindness, resulting in me almost losing my balance, almost ending up ruinously on the cold floor of the Decelis. I thank my mother who made me dance as a child, giving me a significant balance.
«Holy bitch!» I swear with a vengeance, and when I see the architect of this ambush I really want to swear something else. «...You must have some mental problem» is all I can say, in a low, scratchy voice.
Park Sunghoon came out of the principal's office and has his hand around my forearm. His irises are lapped with conflicting emotions, furious, burning and angry at the same time, his jaw stiffened to the nth degree a sign that he is grinding his teeth.
«Never dare to interrupt a conversation like that again and never dare, in the most absolute way, point the finger at us again» growls as befits a wolf, a tiger, a lion. A predator.
When he says "we" he is referring to his faction.
«The presidency is a public place, first of all, and second of all, since you have a habit of shooting a lot of bullshit, I'll intervene, okay? Do you protect yours? Very good, fantastic! I protect mine!» I answer in rhyme without being the least bit afraid of his threat, «And leave my arm immediately, it disgusts me to be touched by you» I add with disgust, taking a sinister look in the same direction.
«There are two of us who are repulsed» he readily obliges me, «anyway, it doesn't end there. It's the last year this, the year everything ends and I want to make you go through it in the worst possible way. You dogs don't deserve to share the roof of the Decelis with those like us. Before it's all over it's only right that someone puts you back in your place» hisses full of hate. «And now go, go to your floor, the place that suits you».
Finally, Sunghoon walks with a firm, fast step dictated by his long legs, his back to us as if nothing had happened, as if we counted for zero.
Actually, we count zero, for him.
«Oh my god, sometimes that boy can be really crazy and luckily we're supposed to be adults this year...» Jungwon intervenes, whispering almost in disbelief. «Sorry to repeat this to you for the millionth time, Noo, but I still have to understand why he feels all this hatred for you. Okay, I know, Park all of us. But you, it almost seems like a different, more... dramatic hatred. And it's pretty funny since until the middle of the first year he hated you like everyone else, almost ignored. It's hard to explain...» my friend comments by biting his lip, helping himself with hand gesticulation so I can understand what he's trying to make me mean.
«And yet it's very simple, Wonie. He hates me more simply because I'm the one on the front lines putting a spoke in his wheels. He can't accept noes and he can't accept that he isn't revered by us. And I can't wait for this year to end so he can get all of that out of my way. Sometimes it's really hard to put up with this situation every day» short cut shaking the head, a note of tiredness comes out without me realizing it in time.
«They didn't nickname you the God of the artistic from nothing, you know? You're combative, you never take no for an answer. And you are our spokesperson God-Noo!» Jungwon tells me sweetly, giving me an affectionate caress on the cheek
«I don't like that nickname» I confess to him by raising my irises up.
«I would love to be considered a god» it's convenient for him.«I'll only feel like a god when I get a passing grade from Professor Lim!» I lighten up a bit by putting my hands on my hair. «Away, we have to run away to class» I order.
«But you'll also rip a B off him» my friend reassures me by putting his arm around my shoulders.
«Said the one who got an F!» I point it out to him without being able to hold back a laugh.
«I will recover. Lim isn't done with Yang Jungwon. I can be convincing in other ways, too, you know?» he declares with a mischievous look, licking his lips.And as we head to our section, the third D, I grab Jungwon's hand and don't leave it until we reach our floor.