Chapter Text
Ryujin hadn’t wanted this, no, not at all. Nor was this something she’d usually think twice about before declining.
It wasn’t in her nature to agree to such a thing—to this arrangement. Though, she knew, she only had herself to blame.
Trying her best to take her sweet time, she carelessly saunters down the halls, watching as art portraits blur at her passing departure, trading the efforts of past students for blank walls as she exceeds the art corridor.
She starts to drag her feet a little, forcing herself to slow down now that she’s found herself a few steps closer to that dreadful room.
Occasionally, she averts her eyes, scanning the plaques that sits alongside each door, keeping tabs on the gradually descending numbers, watching as they fall with every step closer to that room. The one unquestionably containing her imminent doom.
Well, maybe that was dramatic.
She had technically agreed to this. She thinks back to this morning, remembering how she was asked to stay back after class. It was then she learned about this new found predicament. One that required her attendance at this god forsaken classroom long after her obligation to be there had ended, long after school had ended.
She remembers nodding along, mindlessly agreeing. But only to escape the grasps of a nagging teacher, she was getting impatient.
Usually, she wasted no time hanging around school after the bell rang, extracurriculars took up no space in her mind, and therefore, her time. And that was exactly the way she liked it.
But when Mrs. Kim “recommended” this little arrangement, she knew she had no choice in the matter.
Mrs. Heo would be more than pissed if she came home with the prospects of another failed class.
So, here she was, on her way to some stupid tutoring lesson. She didn’t know too much about it to be honest, just that she needed to meet up with some tutor after school and figure out a way to pass mid terms. She hadn’t really been listening to Mrs. Kim when she was going on about the details.
But regardless of her ignorance, she was only a few doors down now. As she begins to approach, she wonders if maybe she should just leave—choose to not bother with this, escape while she still has the chance.
Or maybe she should have tried harder, this was all because she had been lazy, careless, and reluctant to pay attention in class.
Although, this class in particular did take place so very early in the morning, who could blame her if she struggled to keep her eyes open.
Not to mention she was supposed to be somewhat engaged during class, while the subject was something like derivatives? Ha, that was a joke. She couldn’t think of anything more boring. I mean c’mon, it wasn’t completely her fault for failing this class, right?
Well, at least that’s what she likes to think. Despite it, she knows a plethora of people would disagree with her.
Finally nearing the classroom, she comes to a slow stop in front of it, planting her feet a few tiles back from the door.
Now that she’s here, she contemplates. Should she really go in? She knows that whatever’s awaiting her inside surely takes the form of some kind of modern hell.
One waiting for her to walk through its door, to find her usual classroom, to see the math related decor and encouraging posters, to think everything is normal, then reveal itself as her punishment. Showing her the never ending hours of time that’s to be wasted upon her futile attempts in math. To torture her with delicate rays of warmth that scarcely bleed into the room, taunting her of the freedom that lies just outside of those panes of glass.
Ok, now she was really being dramatic.
In all fairness, she just really didn’t want to be here right now.
With a sigh, she gives in, finally reaching her palm to the doors familiar handle, feeling the cold metal against her skin, and tugging the door open.
Upon her entrance she’s met with two figures, the first, her calculus teacher, who she had been expecting. And the second, a girl she doesn’t recognize.
The woman she does know, stands with her back turned, busy conversing with the stranger, and within a second they both turn, notified by the doors creaking voice and finding Ryujin by the door.
“Ryujin!”
“Oh perfect, you’re finally here!”
She excuses herself from the girl, making her way over to greet Ryujin, and at this she internally groans.
It’s not that she dislikes the woman before her, but she doesn’t quite favor her either. She was always a little over the top and had a reputation for being extra in her endeavors, but she was kind to Ryujin, so, she endured it.
Behind Mrs. Kim stands the girl she had been talking to, patiently waiting by her desk. Ryujin manages to sneak a glance at her while she pretends to listen to Mrs. Kim chatting her up.
She’s tall, Ryujin observes—taller than herself at least, she stands just a few inches above her and is holding a textbook beneath her arms, clearly awaiting this moment.
Her uniform is neat, it’s polished and tidy in all the right ways. Her blazer sits perfectly and her tie lies straight underneath it, she wears a pleated a skirt that hangs half past her knees; the fabric clean and ironed.
And a top her face sit a pair of red specs, framing it nicely.
What a fucking dork, Ryujin thinks.
She returns her gaze back to Mrs. Kim, nodding along to whatever she’s been saying and offering her a tight smile, trying her best to hide the obvious disinterest behind it.
Ryujin’s not the only one to sneak a glance though, Sayeon also finds herself surveying the girl opposite to her.
She too, observes Ryujin, in this moment of distraction.
She looks a little scattered, she thinks, unprepared. Her face is framed by small purple waves that adorn themselves within her hair, and her clothing hangs haphazardly off of her.
Her blazer is open—a size too big, her tie is loose and her shirt untucked. Much like the rest of her uniform, her shoes appear worn down, complimenting the assortment of bandages and bruises littered upon her knees.
Clearly this girl didn’t care much for appearances, Sayeon concludes.
Her attention is shifted back to Mrs. Kim as she now notices she’s began to wave her over.
Once in reach, Mrs. Kim takes her by the shoulders, holding her like some kind of prize she’s been eager to present.
“This is Sayeon!” She exclaims.
The girl gives a polite smile, Ryujin ignores it.
Possibly sensing Ryujin’s distaste, she continues “Don’t worry,” she chuckles, “she’s one of my top students, class president too! You’re in good hands.” She says as she gives Sayeon a light shake, while Sayeon gives another polite smile in return.
She says that like it’s supposed to impress her, which to be clear, it doesn’t.
What a joke, this had to be a joke, a prank, anything. Anything other than this.
Why couldn’t she have gotten someone normal, someone who wasn’t the goddamn class president. Not that she’s surprised, this was just her luck.
Now she was going to be stuck spending her afternoons with some prissy girl who probably ate fucking books for breakfast, and no doubt has an ego the size of the moon with that title.
And not to mention that she clearly has Mrs. Kim wrapped around her finger, probably along with every other teacher at this school too.
This was going to be a long fucking—
Mrs. Kim clears her throat, interrupting Ryujin from her thoughts, and finally removing her embrace from Sayeon.
“I was thinking I would let you two use my room for now, I know the library can get quite crowded.” She says, beginning to make her way over to her desk, and pulling her belongings into the small purse residing on top of it, as she continues speaking.
“Especially after school,” she adds, chuckling lightly, obviously trying to diffuse some of the awkward tension surrounding both girls, who are yet to speak a word to each other.
“Alright.” She settles, looking between them.
“I’ll let you guys get started then,” She says, pulling the purse over her shoulder, and making her way over to the exit. “I just wanted to get the two of you introduced!” She says, giving Ryujin a gentle pat on the shoulder and a smile before offering one last goodbye.
For a moment they sit in the silence created by Mrs. Kims absence. For a moment, before Sayeon speaks up.
“Ryujin, right?”
Ryujin stares blankly at her, crossing her arms.
She waits a beat before speaking up again. “Um, I’m Sayeon.”
“….”
“…Lee.”
“Look, why don’t we just get this over with.” Ryujin finally replies, averting her gaze from the dorkish girl in front of her.
Now it’s Sayeon’s turn to stare, taken aback by her sudden abruptness.
God, what was this girl’s problem? they had only just met. She was trying to be friendly—to ask her name, to clarify that, that was indeed her name, and that she hadn’t been hallucinating when Mrs. Kim introduced them.
But she decides to let it go, to act cordial if you will, and hum a “Sure.” In return.
“Why don’t we sit over here.” She suggests, leading Ryujin over to a pair of desks that face the front of the room.
Sayeon takes her seat carefully, Ryujin follows, lazily falling into her own, and dropping her backpack to the ground aside of her, much less graceful than Sayeon.
Sayeon sets the textbook she’s been holding down. “Do you have one?” She asks.
Ryujin glances between her and the book, and Sayeon can already see the irritation laced within her features.
“No.”
“Ok…” she says, pausing for a moment, “We can share mine then.” She tells her, pushing the textbook in between them, meeting her eyes once before looking back down to even it out.
From the side, Ryujin can see her more clearly. She watches as her thin frames begin to slide down the bridge of her nose, just slightly, she watches as her bangs sway softly at her movements, how her hands, thin and pale, gently push the textbook to the middle of their joint desks.
“Do you have a notebook?” She asks, breaking Ryujin from her slight daze.
She hums, not giving much of a reply as she reaches down to rummage through her mess of a bag, pulling out an old notebook once she finds it, worn from her backpack and math class boredom.
Sayeon’s not surprised when its opened, she steals a glance at the pages as Ryujin searches for a blank slate, finding only doodles and odd drawings in place of where real notes and equations should be.
Paying no mind to it, she places a pencil in front of Ryujin, fairly assuming she hadn’t come with one of her own, and Ryujin doesn’t try to hide the fact that she rolls her eyes at this.
Sighing under her breath, Sayeon collects herself, turning forward once Ryujin’s settled on a page, and opening their shared textbook, flipping through the pages to search for a beginning chapter, one easy to start with—easy to follow. Ryujin slouches in her seat.
God, she was frustrating.
It had only been an hour and Ryujin had already stopped pretending to listen.
Some people could just be so-
“Hey glasses, why don’t we wrap this up, I got somewhere to be.”
Sayeon quirks her brow at the nickname, choosing to ignore it.
“Somewhere to be?” She questions. Ryujin meets her stare harshly, “Yeah, and don’t ask, cause it’s none of your damn business.”
In truth, Ryujin had nowhere to be, she was just getting tired of listening to Sayeon talk about— well, whatever the hell she was talking about, while she was busy thinking about all the other things she could be doing right now.
Sayeon’s face screws up slightly at Ryujin’s tone before continuing, “Fine, how about we continue this tomorrow, does that work for you?”
She could see the gears beginning to shift inside of Ryujin’s head, evidently searching for some kind of excuse.
“You do need to pass this class, don’t you?”
Ryujin doesn’t want to admit it, but fuck, she knows she’s right.
“Fine.” She mutters, without looking her way.
If Sayeon had lost her mind she might have thought it was almost cute the way her face contorted in annoyance.
But she hadn’t. And she definitely didn’t.
“Same time then?” She offers.
Ryujin gives a nod, quickly packing up her things, throwing her bag over one shoulder and rushing her way out of the classroom, without so much as another word to Sayeon.
With the slam of a door, Sayeon relaxes.
Breathing out a sigh, and letting herself find sanctuary in the palm of her hands, as she runs them down her face.
What a mess, she thinks. She hadn’t expected for this to be such a pain, or for Ryujin to be so difficult.
Now, she wasn’t oblivious. She had seen Ryujin a few times before, walking around campus, occupying empty corners—presumably skipping classes, even smoking behind the gym. She could imagine the kind of crowd she ran with, if she ran with one at all, now that she thinks about it she’s never seen her with much company.
But that didn’t matter, she’d be damned if she let some delinquent girl take this away from her. Tutoring was going to look excellent on her college apps, and she also had never been one to half ass anything.
So yeah, she’d be damned.