Chapter Text
The decision of life has never been our choice. Some may say it's the decision of God's, and others say it's the decision of our parents. Some may say it's both. To me, life is the decision of the universes, given to you when you have a purpose to bring to this world. We live everyday, creating connections all over the world, and evolving every second. Why does that occur if we serve no purpose? One may die thinking, "What did I bring to this world?" And another may think, "Because you died, I'll die, too."
We are conscious beings, having nothing but free will of our own to have. You like someone, you dislike someone, it's either of the two or perhaps in between. In my case, I'm only in between with someone—or rather, something—and that is the universe. The being of infinity, holding much mystery that our human minds cannot comprehend. We cope with this fact by living as if it does not exist. 'Out of sight, out of mind.'
Humans are cosmic beings. We're made of stardust, and that means I'm a creation of the universe, that means my cousins are the stars and the planets and the other possible things out there, and they live once before they explode. That means I too, live only once, before I explode.
So fuck it. Fuck it all.
"Go Kyungjun," my voice comes out, smoother than I had anticipated. "I like you."
I don't think that was the sentence Kyungjun expected to hear come out of my mouth. To the other kids, I'm the type of girl who's not involved with romance. The quiet girl in the back of the class, 'deciding' to avoid her classmates because she hates them. Which isn’t necessarily wrong—to an extent.
"I'll think about it," he replied easily. It broke me out of my small train of thoughts. "Let's talk tomorrow, or the day after that. Maybe next week, yeah?"
I blinked once, and then twice. Think about it? If you liked me, you would've told me this instant. But I guess he took my small beat of silence as affirmation that we would talk about this later, and he stepped inside the bus. Fuck.
"Fuck," I breathed out, because just saying it in my thoughts weren't enough. "What does that even mean?"
"What does what mean?" someone asked, walking towards me until he halted by my side. Kim Junhee, the man I couldn't quite figure out. He was the classroom president. Nice, polite, had good leadership skills... it didn't surprise me much that the class voted for him.
I looked up at him for a second, and then looked away. A huff escapes my lips, "Nothing."
"Well, it's time to start moving," Junhee states, patting my shoulder to signal for me to walk forward, and trails off towards the entrance of the bus. "Get a good seat."
Maybe I should start loving the universe. Maybe then all my hopes and dreams would come true after that.
"I know it's you!"
"Really, I'm telling you, it's true."
"I'm not, okay?"
"If I were the mafia, why did I try to stop you from getting caught?" asked Eunha, sitting at the back of the bus alongside the rest of the students who decided to play mafia before reaching the class trip designation.
The bus shakes slightly as it runs over a bump, but the students don't pay any attention to it. They continue to bicker about the mafia game—like they have been for the past hour—and their volume increases second by second.
"It's not that, I—"
"It's Heo Yool, I said." Eunha cuts off Yeonwoo quickly, who was talking beforehand, pointing fingers at the black-haired male sitting next to Yeonwoo. Heo Yool decides to rebuttal Eunha's claim...
... But before he can, Eunchan butts in, "Now so..." the group starts to pat their thighs, creating a sound that imitates a drum roll for dramatic effect and... "The innocent civilians lost, and the mafia won!"
Heo Yool starts to cheer for his own victory, and the assumed civilians of the game fought over the earlier actions in the game. The bickering continues, fighting over the assumptions that were made, and a few I told you so's elicited from their mouths. This game was stupid, that's what I thought, but my opinion didn't really matter to them.
"Hey!" interrupted a male a few seats in front of the group loudly, turning around to look at the grouped students in the back. "Kyungjun is sleeping, it's too loud."
Jinha was the guy who had yelled at the mafia group. He was one of Kyungjun's friends, alongside Seungbin, a bleach-blonde buzzed guy who was really lanky and tall.
Aren't you just adding onto the loudness?
But I didn't say that. I couldn't say that. Point A, I liked Kyungjun. I liked the way his hair fell against his face while he slept, I liked the way he looked peaceful when he slept, and I liked the way that he—Point B, I didn't want to irritate that group of people. That'd be too much trouble.
"Hey, move a little, would you?" a female voice nagged at me politely. Kim Somi was the classroom vice president, which I totally voted against, but it was worthless in the end due to majority voting for her. Somi didn't like me much after that, yet never really voiced or acted on her negativity towards me.
"Why?" I asked, tilting my head up at her. She was considerably pretty, but I didn't really like that headband on her. Actually, I didn't like headbands at all on her.
"Move," she says, avoiding my question, and stands up from her seat. Somi leans over mine, and angles her phone to settle around Junhee's face. She takes a quick picture, sends me a smile, and sits back down on her seat.
I sat in the further back of the bus, sitting next to Kim Junhee. I guess that's a popular spot or something, because a classmate of mine and Somi have been ogling over here, and I know fully well it's not me they're looking at. Truthfully, there were no more seats open, and Junhee had offered. The floor wasn't really a place I'd call comfortable to sit on for a few hours. So, I accepted his invitation with grace.
Once Somi had sat back down, she showed the picture to her friends with a grin more genuine than the one she flashed at me. My head turns around, looking away from the scene, and rests against my seat. Pressing my lips together, I then lean down, and unzip my backpack to get my kit.
My fingers grasped the plastic, tying the two ends into a knot, and I smiled to myself. I slid the bracelet onto my wrist, bumping into another bracelet I had made earlier. One was gold, vibrant on my wrist, and the other was silver, just as vibrant as the gold.
"Y/N!" my name was called out, and I perked my head towards the side of the chair in front of me. Yoonseo, a classmate of mine, had called out my name. We weren't exactly close, but we didn't hate each other either. Yoonseo had been nothing but nice to me. "Are you coming?"
I guess I was too involved with my tying, because the rest of the students had gotten off of the bus. I let out a soft oh, and closed my kit up. "Yeah, sorry," I call back out. "Don't wait for me."
Yoonseo hesitates for a moment, but she leaves anyway. I suppose she comes to terms with the realization that we're going to the same destination anyway.
I slide the bracelet kit into my backpack, and zip it up hastily. Throwing the straps onto my shoulders, I head out towards the front of the bus, and go down the steps. The fresh air is comforting to me, and cleanses my nostrils greatly. The others had gone off towards the front, so I suppose I was alone on getting my luggage. Looking side to side, my feet bring my body towards the closed doors of where the luggage was supposed to be.
"Ah," I breathe out. "Did they seriously forget me?"
"I would, too." my eyes look up, and I'm met with the face of Kyungjun. His eyes looked down at the closed doors, I can't really tell if he's fighting the urge to look at me or simply just is looking at the doors. Too much looking, it's weird.
I find Kyungjun's words hypocritical, because if he were to forget me, he wouldn't be here right now.
His hands reach down to open the doors simultaneously, holding them in place at the top. He reaches in, and pulls out my suitcase. Kyungjun’s eyes finally meet mine, I can't exactly say what look they have in them, but I know it's not hatred.
"Thanks." I said, now scanning my suitcase as I pull the handle up to help me to roll it.
"Yeah," he says. "The color of it is just as dumb as your bracelets."
Kyungjun shuts the doors closed, and walks away. My eyes move over to look at my bracelets, and I quickly pull them off to shove them in my zip-up jackets pockets. My lips press together in a firm line, and pull the suit case up in a rush to catch up with the rest of my classmates.
My fingers press the pencil's led against the paper, scribbling something that even I didn't necessarily have a clue of what it was. My back is pressed against the wall, legs dangling off of the edge of my bed as I was on the top bunk. For my dorm, I was grouped with absolutely nobody. It's not bad, but it was expected. Everyone got their friends in their dorms, I had none. The teacher told me that it was a 'randomized selection' but I think it was just his pity on me speaking for him.
It wasn't like I didn't have any friends. I did, only outside of my class. I was neither liked nor disliked here; it was like me with the universe. I was a neutral feeling to everyone.
My earbuds sit in my ears, and they play a selection of songs in my playlist. The lyrics and instrumentals roll through my ears, it's meaningless as I space it out, and continue scribbling. Then, the music just stops. I halt my movements on the paper, looking over at my phone, and dropped the pencil by my side and shoved my notebook away. I picked up my phone, unlocking it via my passcode, and swiped into my spotify app.
No signal.
"I paid for Spotify Premium, asshole," I murmur to myself, furrowing my eyebrows at the same time. The sound of my ear buds disconnecting ring in my ears, and I scoff. I slide the ear buds out of my ears, and home them once again in their case. "Does this place seriously have no signal?"
Maybe I should ask Junhee about it. He somehow knew everything, and I think that's because the teacher actually did tell him everything. So, he should know, right?
A ding erupts from my phone. I blink once, and then twice. That was a habit I've developed when I'm confused. My finger slides out of the Spotify tab on my phone, and I see a new app installed on my home page that I clearly remember not downloading. I click on it, and text appears on the screen.
[ SEO Y/N, YOUR OCCUPATION IS
A CIVILIAN. ]
"What is this?" I murmur to myself again, and my eyes trail all over the screen. "Is this that stupid mafia game? Did Heo Yool hack into my phone or something?"
A list of options appeared on my screen, but I didn't necessarily care for it. Why was this the only thing that worked on my phone? We had zero signal.
Then, a text dings from my phone. It's not from messages, but rather from the odd app installed on my phone.
HEO YOOL
Hey, losers! Let the game begin now!
To me, Heo Yool was nothing but an airhead. If you were to tell me that his skull was completely empty inside, containing no brain, I'd absolutely believe you if I knew that was possible. He wasn't cruel, but he wasn't a man of innocence either. I'd describe Heo Yool as a follower. But when he had his moments to shine, he'd make them shine so brightly until they bursted like a supernova.
So obviously this was his doing, and the text I received after that confirmed my thoughts.
BAEK EUNHA
Heo Yool is the Mafia. Let's kill him.
As I read the text, I laughed silently to myself. Heo Yool was the mafia in the game that the others played on the bus. He was the one who was the most interested in the game, really. My thumb presses the exit button on the screen, and presses the voting button on the main page next. It takes me to a selection of names, each one belonging to me and my classmates.
Someone truly, truly put their entire soul into this. Nobody could make something like this in a few hours, but what did I know? I was locked up in my room, and the rest had been out in the gym. Partying or whatever it was they were doing.
I settle the bottom of my phone against my stomach, and press Heo Yool's name. It asks me if I want to confirm my vote, so I confirmed my vote. There weren't any more texts from the rest after that, so I shut my phone off and stared down at the notebook by my side. The page only had scribbles on it, merely a grey mess. What was I even trying to do?
What should I do? Maybe I should've asked to switch classes, that's what.
My hands cover my face, and then slowly drag down. I really needed to make friends, but that was hard to do when you were already halfway through your second year with the same class as last year. Everyone had made their groups, and I looked like the odd one out.
So, I needed signal. Again, Junhee was my best bet in figuring out how to get my signal back, so I'd have to find him. I lift my things off to the other side of me, and go down the steps of the bunk bed with no bunk buddy to tell where I'm going. My feet slide into my slippers once I get to the floor, and I exit my room with lazy steps.
Then, I hear voices. It comes from a certain area of the hallway, and so I follow it in hopes of seeing Junhee. Maybe it was my lucky day, because there he was.
"Let's go back to our rooms and sleep for now," I recognize Junhee's voice, and I peek over the corner of the wall to look at the crowd. Mostly everyone is turned to look at him, or is behind him. Students seeking their class president's help, like always. It wasn't odd, but what was odd was what Junhee said. What was the context of all of this? "I will be going out tomorrow morning."
"Where?" I question, and everyone seems to jump at the sudden notice of my appearance. Junhee's head merely picks up, his eyes looking at me. He never seemed to get startled when I appeared.
"To search for our teacher," Junhee explained, his hands still pressed against his hips, like how I found him at first a second ago. "It seems we've lost signal and our adults have disappeared."
Oh. Oh. So nobody wanted to knock on my door and say, "Hey Seo Y/N, our teacher is gone and so is the other adults!"
Junhee doesn't know what I'm thinking, he's not a mind reader. So he walks forward, and the rest follow after him as they turn around the corner. I suppose I found myself following too, even as Junhee calls out to the rest of the class to go to their rooms and sleep.
So, the class does. The doors close shut, making a noise as they do so. Conversations spur—and then they stop. An alarm blares, and it reminds me of some sort of evacuation alarm. It doesn't give me a good feeling in my stomach whatsoever.
"The voting ends in one minute."
A feminine voice speaks through the speakers, and phones start to ding. I pull my phone out of my pocket quickly, unlocking it, and checking the app on my phone. A countdown had started. Doors of the rooms open, and people start to wonder what's happening.
"Isn't this so cool?" Heo Yool comments, grinning at his phone like a maniac. It completely passes his mind that everyone voted for him for this exact reason.
"Yeah, it is. But it was you who created it." Yeonwoo retorts.
The alarm blares again, and the feminine voice declared that the voting time is over.
"I'm sure everyone voted for him," Eunha says, pointing her index finger directly towards Heo Yool, who was a few feet away. "We know that this is all your doing anyway."
"What are you talking about?" Heo Yool replied to Eunha, and turned his face towards his friends. "And why did you all vote for me in the first place? You even got Y/N caught in the scheme. This is so boring."
"I wasn't.." ‘caught in a scheme’ is what I wanted to say, but the alarm interrupts everything quite rudely.
"Heo Yool, the one with the most votes, will be executed."
It was a bit dramatic to say Heo Yool was getting executed when he was just getting eliminated because he got voted out. Execution meant death, and nobody was a murderer.
"What is this?" Heo Yool mutters to himself, eyes fixated on his phone.
"Bye." Yeonwoo mockingly says, waving at him. Just then, Heo Yool's head picks up, and looks to the side. He lets out a groan, his head dropping, and his hand moving to hold the top of his head. People laugh at the guy, muttering in disbelief.
Then, he goes crazy.
Right in front of me.
Heo Yool thrashes to the side, and then to the other side, groaning and crying out. His head slooowly picks up, and Heo Yool is still for a moment. He drops to the ground, his knees pressed against the floor, as well as his hands.
BANG!
People scream, and all I could think was; holy shit. Heo Yool was slamming his head against the ground. I choke on a gasp of mine, quickly walking backwards, and trip. My left slipper flies off of my foot, and lands a few inches from Heo Yool.
BANG!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A liquid flies up every time Heo Yool lifts his head from the ground, and slams it down again. The liquid is red, and I knew right then and there it was blood. That was blood. That was Heo Yool's blood, and we made it fly because of our vote.
I'm frozen in place. All I could do was look. Look at the existence that was created because I had thrown my vote carelessly, off of judgment of a man I had never personally spoken to despite my years of knowing him.
Heo Yool gets picked up once again, and his white button up slides off of one shoulder. The collar is stained with fresh blood, only a little despite the impact on his head.
He slowly turns around, and I can finally see what he looks like. His own blood streams down from his face, an enormous injury on his forehead. Heo Yool looks down, directly at my slipper, and walks forward.
"Don't," I choke out, tears forming in my eyes. "Don't."
He picks up the slipper, and thrashes it against his forehead. It's not necessarily heavy, but there's impact with his hits. Heo Yool's open wound is getting milked out of blood, and he's not far from me. The blood drops against my face, I want to look away because why the fuck is he making his injury worse with my slipper—and then Heo Yool drops it.
Like it's not enough. Enough to kill him.
He's frozen for a moment, and everything is silent. At least for me. I think I'm tuning everything out, but I can’t really process that before he runs towards the side—
—SSSHHS!
The glass breaks, I can hear everything again, and it drops onto the floor. But Heo Yool picks himself off of the ground. He turns around, and slams his head into the glass that was parallel from the other. Heo Yool is down again, his blood prickling against the glass.
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.
Feet thump against the floor, screams of terror fill the area around me, and so I close my eyes and press my hands against my ears. "Out of sight, out of mind," but perhaps the sight of Heo Yool charging himself at glass won't ever leave my mind.
An echo of the alarm rings again, and the voice is there again. Just muffled. "Heo Yool was a civilian."
I had never felt so terrible in my whole life.
Despite it being black already, my world then truly goes dark. The last thing I hear is a faint melody, ringing through my ears, and my hands drop. If I had died because we voted for the wrong person, I don't think I had any remarks towards it.
Maybe I was a murderer. Maybe we all are murderers.
Maybe I should've abandoned wearing any form of shoes.