Chapter Text
Jared Sun was seriously getting on your nerves. Sure, you could handle inexperienced student council members – everyone starts somewhere. But he was the school president, and your back was going to break from single-handedly carrying all the responsibilities.
Ganghak high was broken into two main sections, the girls and the boys. Thus, there were two student council bodies. Despite the division of gender, both were required to discuss school proceedings together – much to the girls’ hardly hidden disdain. The boys were all slackers, to be generous. They rarely did their work, and in the slim chance they did, it was 90% artificial intelligence. Needless to say, they were treated with hostility and strong animosity. From you, at least.
They were indeed infamous for whatever gang stuff they did behind the scenes, but they didn’t touch the girls – what were they to care about? All you and your friends were aware of was that there was a big bad wolf lurking the hallways (“Never to be touched”, according to your friend) and they beat people up. This Wolf guy, which you questioned whether he gave himself that nickname to put up an “Alpha” front or whatever, kept Ganghak in line though. Apparently, he drew boundaries of when and where the students got into conflicts. Whatever hormonally fluctuating teenage boys did, as long as they kept their distance, you really couldn’t care less.
But Jared Sun was seriously an asshole. You had no idea how he even got elected to be the president. And the fact that he was the top of his grade? It just didn’t add up. The teachers loved him though, adding layers of protection that you knew you couldn’t cross. As the girls’ school president, there was forced proximity between you and him – and it always seemed to be your mission to hunt him down.
“What the hell is his problem?” you groan, dropping your bag with a little more force than necessary and plopping down into your seat.
“Jared Sun again?”
Your seatmate, Sara, barely looked up from her phone. She’s been your true and trusted friend since middle school, and is more than acquainted with your daily complaints.
You don’t respond, massaging your temples. You were already busy enough as is, because so many school events to organize were being thrown your way. Chasing down a teenage boy was the least of your priorities. Sara suggested crossing over to the other building and personally dragging him to the meeting room.
After school, you crossed over to the boys’ section of Ganghak. You wrinkled your nose as soon as you stepped foot, narrowly avoiding boys throwing themselves left and right in the hallways. The lockers were covered with questionable writings on them, the floors badly needed to be cleaned, and you could detect the lingering undernote of cigarettes in the air. This is exactly why the girls never came into this vile section.
You scanned the heads of the hallways in hopeful search of a flash of blonde. After 15 minutes of aimlessly wandering around the school building you weren’t even fully familiar with, you grabbed a random trustable looking guy and started questioning him of Jared’s whereabouts. You convey with as much warmth as possible.
Trustable-looking-guy paled and frantically shook his head, scurrying away before you could say something. The maroon blazer disappeared around a corner. Puzzled, you entertained the theory that Ganghak boys were afraid of females. That guy looked terrified. Did you have something on your face? You realized that there must be something else going on after the third guy that had the misfortune of being questioned by you flashed the same look of fear before running away. What was going on? Actually, it wasn’t unbelievable that Jared Sun was involved with something ominous. Not that he himself was, but the people he associated with. Wolf Keum in particular.
You huffed in annoyance before recalling a faint memory.
You’ve been talking to the fellow Student Council members during a meeting.
“The art club’s drying their paintings, so I’ll request the boys’ rooftop to be vacated on Wed – “
Jared, who had been shamelessly scrolling on his phone the entire time, suddenly perked up. He snapped his head to look at you with wide eyes, or as much as his small eyes seemed to stretch.
“Boys’ rooftop?” He interrupted.
You raised an eyebrow at him, not particularly pleased with the sudden obtrusion. For a guy who’d been nonparticipative for the past hour, he seemed pretty interested now.
Yeah. The girls’ is used as a storage space, so there’s no space. Is there a problem?”
He silently pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. After a few seconds of staring at you, he stated, “Ours is dirty, too.”
“With cigarettes, I assume…” you muttered under your breath to Jane, your vice president. She snorted. You resumed your regular volume and replied to Jared, “Where else, then?”
He looked around, probably racking his brains to the best of its ability, not that it pulled much. You actually knew the boys’ roof was pretty clean – you heard so from one of the teachers. But if he had a reason for not wanting you to occupy it, so be it. You didn’t want to create more conflicts, especially with Jared, considering how much the teachers babied him…
You sighed, and offered, “The bleachers next to the soccer field?”
He nodded in agreement like it was his idea from the beginning. “Yeah.”
…
If you had to take a guess, he and his little “gang” probably used the roof as a secret hangout spot. With that conclusion, you headed for the stairs. You weren’t unathletic, but climbing 4 flights with as much speed as you could generate without looking awkward to passerbyes made your hamstrings squeeze tightly with pain. You took a look around after you reached the top of the stairs. The place was pretty damn dusty, and the entrance to the rooftop was right in front of you. A few chairs with broken legs were stacked up next to the railing, but upon closer observation, they were specked with red paint. You felt a peculiar sense of unease make your heart waver. You liked to think your intuition was pretty good, and it was telling you that you’d do something you regret by lingering around here. Perhaps it was the deafening silence combined with the annoyingly persistent whistling wind noises gently shaking the window panels.
To your surprise, the door to the roof was slightly ajar. The cool breeze tickled your fingers as you tentatively put your hand on the door knob. Before you could open it, you heard the sound of a distant exchange of words, between two males. You paused, peering through the crack. From your perspective, all you could see was a narrow view of the roofdeck, ash (or dust?) hovering over the floor like gusts of powder.
Was it Jared? The voices were hushed, serious, and somehow solemn. You didn’t think it was the appropriate time to interrupt or bring attention to yourself – especially because you really didn’t feel like dealing with more than one Ganghak boy today. You strained your ears to listen.
“...you keep opening your mouth like that, I can’t guarantee that your teeth will stay intact.”
It took you a second to process what on earth that was supposed to mean. Your breathing slowed as the words clicked in your head. Just as you took a step back, whack, whack, whack, whack! 4 consecutive sounds – no, hits – all with almost impeccably the same pause in between. You felt your heart tighten with fear, yet your feet stayed rooted within the floor. Whoever said the ominous sentence spat a few more words, and started laughing. Not an innocent giggle, or a little chuckle, a full-ass laugh, one where you could imagine him throwing his head back for. You felt goosebumps arise at the back of your neck. You heard something dripping, and could imagine exactly what it would be.
Forgive me, Sara, for undermining your descriptions of Ganghak boys, you thought. You lifted your head, just in time to see something purple come into your narrow frame of vision from the door’s crack. A broad-shouldered guy with the red Ganghak blazer took a step back. His posture and movements were laid-back and almost bored, like he was doing a chore. This was clearly not the guy getting beat up, which meant he must be the one throwing the punches. You notice that his shoulders were slightly tense, the only indication that something must be bothering him, despite his nonchalant facade. Well, you weren’t gonna stick around to find out.
You took a step back, and felt something collide with your ankle. You whipped around, and came face-first with the stack of broken chairs leaning to one side. Out of sheer desperation, you extended your hands out to grab it, only for you to completely miss. The chair fell from its stack, producing a cacophony of clattering noises as it tumbled its way through a bunch of other obstacles. The most agonizing part about this was the fact that the chair had been placed on a high stack – it was taking a long time to reach the floor.
You covered your face with your hands as it continued to tumble down, bringing the horrible wood-on-wood noise along with it. The fall must’ve been only a few seconds, but it felt like a full year for it to finally announce its landing with a conclusive and equally obtrusive thud. Silence fell, including from the roof deck outside. You felt the blood drain from your head and slowly trickle coldly down your neck and back. You slowly uncover your eyes and turn back around to face the door. As expected, it immediately swings open. You jump back as the door nearly collides with your face. A whip of cold air immediately cuts through your skin. You involuntarily flinch, and lift your eyes up slowly to face the person in front of you. Predictably, it’s not Jared Sun, but his perpetrator.
One of his hands rested on the doorknob. Underneath the red Ganghak blazer was a clearly-expensive black Kanzo shirt. Definitely against the dresscode by the way, but you’d rather be waterboarded than reprimand his inclination of fashion.
You bravely lift your eyes to see his face. The first thing you notice is his hair – for obvious reasons. Obviously, it wasn’t natural, but for someone who chose to wear a tiger-themed designer shirt under his school uniform, it was an applaudable choice of color. The wind behind him subtly rode the purple waves, emphasizing the natural way in which it seemed to ripple. He had a pale complexion, undisturbed by nothing but a few faintly pink scars that blatantly indicate his tendency to willingly entertain conflicts. Was that intentional? A show of power? He had a strong nose bridge, which was usually uncommon amongst teenagers. His lips had pointier corners, with a very prominent cupid's bow. From what you could conclude, his appearance reflected his character – sharp, firm, and conspicuous.
Right now, his brown eyebrows were scrunched, his eyes narrowed, and his lips on the verge of curling. The distance between you two was comparable to that of a forearm. This man supposedly had no concept of personal space, as he took a step even closer. You were pretty sure he was one of those people who always seemed to be able to look down at someone, even if he were shorter. Well, right now, because he was considerably taller than you, this action was emphasized. You tentatively opened your mouth – but to say what?
He spared you the trouble of speaking. He suddenly broke into a smile. It had a maniacal element to it, because it stretched quite far and revealed all of his upper gums. Was this what people called a gummy smile? Well whatever the fuck it was, you wanted him to stop doing it. You’re sure it was a nice smile to have, just not from this person, in this context, at this moment.
You were contemplating giving a sheepish smile back and pulling some bullshit out of your ass about a ridiculous story behind your presence at this rooftop when he abruptly pulled back, getting behind the threshold. He held eye contact with you, still grinning, and slammed the door at your face. A loose piece of wood on the wall trembled under the impact and slid down to the floor.