“You will come to her party, right?” Hara said, sliding to the seat next to me.

I my lips, puzzled. Parties were not my things, actually it never was. I was more like the girl who tied her hair into a messy bun, picked up a laptop, and did an American Horror Story marathon. Sometimes I baked a cake—random I know.

I didn’t even have a tight, y dress that sold my body.

“I haven’t watched the newest episode of Scream.” I reasoned.

“That is bull, Jisoo.” Hara gave a face. “Come on, just come with me.”

I looked at her. “No thanks.”

Hara has always been my opposite. If she liked Dahlia, I liked normal plants in front of my home that I had no idea what were the names. Hara said they looked hideous, but I said, what’s the difference. Hara liked beer and I liked coke. Hara had this curly brown hair that she had done in salon a few days ago and I had a messy curl at the end of my hair. The only thing we shared was we loved cakes.

Who doesn’t?

Then, I saw Mari waltzed into the class. Her high ponytail bounced as she walked to us, putting her on a seat in front of us. Her eyes were gleaming in content. Her curled eyelashes were batting as if they were bragging off how wonderful they are after they got curled.

“I got a new bag!” She screamed with a tight voice so it wasn’t so loud.

Hara covered her head with her hands in distressed.

Hara’s weakness was when Mari started talking about fashion, or what Hara preferred with a at the end of the word. Mari would talk about fashion and high brands for hours and Hara did, once, throw a pencil case right in her head. I almost cried.

They didn’t talk for one full week before Mari went to her house and cried because she was miserable. I guess I am the most uncomplicated person in the circle. Well, not in certain things—just certain.

“Oops,” Mari realized and gave a sorry look for Hara.

“Yeah, save that for later.” Hara beckoned at the teacher who was coming in.

Mari whipped her body to the front and the class slowly went quiet. Hara put a big economy book opened and used it to cover her while she was eating. Yes, she always brought a bag of chips to every class. This time, she brought Lays.

Hara caught me looking and offered me some, but I shook my head.

For half an hour, I have been taking notes as the teacher was having his lecture. Honestly, he was bad; he sat in the chair throughout his lecture, he has mistaken someone forgot to turn off the phone when it was his. Students didn’t like him much, but you know, being fake sometimes the only choice.

Just like this.

However, Hara decided to elbowed me when her food was gone. I looked up to her, half-pissed. Well yeah, I just had a half an hour of a perfect silence and no talks about parties. And this just about to end.

“You must come,” She said, trying.

“No,” I said, still writing on the notes he gave. “Have you ever heard of an anti-party?”

“No.” Hara obliviously said.

“Well, that’s me. And it exists.” I answered, oblivious.

“Sehun’s coming, I’ve been noticed.” She threw the bomb.

I threw her a watch-the--out look. Hara wasn’t even careful—that was incredibly reckless to say that in the class. That—no, this girl right here is the most stupid people and I truly question myself for being with her. But then again, I made connection with annoying, stupid people. Maybe I am for one.

She slipped the chip’s crumble from her desk to .

And I couldn’t focus on the subject anymore. Just Sehun. It always has been.

I didn’t know what I am doing in the wardrobe. It was ridiculous, and Hara had the credit of that. I was literally pushing—or more likely throwing—my clothes away from the wardrobe, turning my room into a shipwreck.

And here, by now, I realized I had a bad taste on fashion.

There was literally nothing good to wear. It just made me look stupid not pretty. I needed to be pretty, crucially. I only had two dresses and both of them and I got no time because Hara arrived with her black Chevy in front of my house. She honked loudly and my towel (that I still used to cover my body) almost fell off.

I ran to the window, pulling her attention to me. A few seconds after I waved my hands, she took a notice of me and went inside to meet me. I jumped in place groggily. I can’t believe I didn’t have nice fashion taste to make my self-esteem better.

“I DON’T HAVE ANY CLOTHES!” I frantically yelled.

“You do!”

“I don’t!”

“So what has been lying in your floor? A freaking carpet?” Hara rolled her eyes.

“Sort of,” I said. “It’s all garbage.”

Hara threw me a look before she could search deep in my wardrobe, fixing things up for me. She pursed her lips for a few moment as she stopped looking and fixated at one particular clothes. I sneak up behind her and peeked at the clothes.

She took it out and it was a dress—like an oversized style one—that cut probably five centimeters above my knees. And it was black. I think I used it on my uncle’s funeral and it was obviously, precisely made for funeral events only.

“I will look like someone who is going on a funeral.”

“It’s just black. What’s wrong with black?” Hara pushed the dress to me.

“I wore them on my uncle’s funeral.”

“That was inappropriate, Jisoo. Why you wear this?”

“My sister picked it.” I walked over the bathroom, closing the door and changing into the clothes.

Then I heard Hara talking from the other side, “No doubt. You should’ve come to me.”

“Yeah, It’s too late.” I came out from the bathroom, standing right after I closed the door to give Hara time to judge me.

“You look great.” Hara approved.

And by that, we took off with her black chevy. What a matching color—including my heart; black, useless, fragile, and forever scarred by Oh Sehun.

Author note: Things get heavier. Life is messy, but love is messier—thank god, I haven't experienced it. Oh! Thank you big time for the first nine subscribers love you till' death and an upvote makes me so happy. Thank you :')