Chapter 10: Falling

Sehun

            “Kim Jiwon. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

            The stranger – Kim Jiwon – smiled at the cold anger in Jaebum’s voice and strolled casually across the room to sit on the windowsill. Jackson glared at him, but with the sickly green pigmentation his skin was approaching, I was surprised he could even manage facial expressions. “Now, now. Is that any way to greet a friend? What happened to best friends forever?”

            Jinyoung raised an eyebrow, something hardening in his usually soft eyes, before he resumed tending to Jackson’s wounds. “You tell me,” he said, his back turned to us.

            Jiwon flinched for a brief second, his self-confidence wavering, before he regained his composure and an egotistical smirk found purchase on his facial features. “I hope you’re aware this entire conversation is a waste of time.”

            “I don’t need you to tell me that,” Jaebum muttered under his breath.

            Jiwon grinned, so cruel and cold that I felt the urge to push him shove him through the window he was perched before and watch him fall thirty floors to the street below. “No, really. Why waste your time talking to me when an innocent civilian is in danger?”

            Jaebum frowned. “If this is another one of your mind games-”

            “Lee Haerin, I believe her name is?” Jiwon’s voice was casual, almost as if he was talking about the weather, but his tone did nothing to stop the ice that flooded my veins at her name. “She lives several floors down from here, right? It’s a shame, really. She was such a pretty girl.”

            “Sehun,” Jaebum said, his voice sharp, “don’t listen to him, this might be a trap-”

            I didn’t get to hear the rest of his sentence.

            I was already gone.

--

Haerin

            “These are amazing,” Yunhyeong breathed, flipping through another page in my sketchbook. “I’m surprised there aren’t art schools and museums shoving invitations in your face.”

            I laughed, and diverted myself from studying for a second to look over his shoulder. We were sitting on opposite sides of my bed, but it was a small space, and I only needed to scoot backwards about three feet or so before our backs collided. “Those are just small still life drawings, Yoyo. I’ve never even finished an entire piece before. I highly doubt that’s what art schools are looking for.”

            “But you bring these things to life, Haerin. Even these lamp posts look like they’re glowing. You know,” he started, closing the book and putting it on my bedside table, “you should draw me sometime. I bet it’ll be great, what with my ethereal beauty and all.” He grinned.

            I rolled my eyes, unable to stop the amusement that threatened to take over my expression. “Get over yourself, Yunhyeong. Let’s make something to eat, I’m hungry.”

            We’d just stepped into the kitchen when a series of sharp knocks sounded at my door, and a voice rendered unrecognizable by fear and worry shouted, “Haerin!” Yunhyeong and I exchanged a look of confusion before he shrugged and motioned for me to answer the door. I shuffled down the hall, my sock-covered feet sliding across the polished wood floor.

            Something slammed into me the moment I opened the door.

            “Oh my god, you’re safe,” Sehun breathed. As if he’d flipped a switch, all the muscles in my