Soonyoung follows too closely for Boyoung’s comfort. It’s possibly because of the way the hallway is empty, and it feels like the walls are closing in on her—pushing him closer to her. It’s bothersome but, she refuses to let it trouble her. Instead, she keeps her arms tight to her sides and eyes narrowed in on the end of the hall. Be normal. Be calm. You’ve got this.

No matter how hard she tries to stay focus on her goal—the back stairwell of the cafeteria building—she can’t help but feel insecure about what’s impending. A conversation, alone, with Soonyoung. She’s somewhere between utterly confused and mad scared. Boyoung can’t quite remember what reason Soonyoung had for not believing her in the first place, when all was said in done. He chalked it up to facts and statistics. That no matter what she said, it wasn’t good enough and didn’t stand up to what he had.

Soonyoung has always loved facts. And while he loves Boyoung, he’ll always choose facts over relationships. Which is why the imminent conversation is freaking her out. If he catches one lie, he can use that against her in the future. Say, and prove, that he can’t believe a single word she says based off the fact that she had previously lied to him. Out of everyone, Boyoung doesn’t want to lose Soonyoung—not again. Not like last time.

He was…is, her best friend. The one person (outside of her mother) that she trusted to no end. When she was happy, she went to him. When she was sad, she went to him. When she was angry, she went to him. He was her confidant, and losing him again will only bring back that looming feeling of isolation. That can’t happen. That won’t happen.

“What are we doing here, Bo?” Soonyoung leans against the wrought iron balustrade, overlooking the quad bellow. Misty clouds flow through the air, blocking most, if not all, of the sun. Boyoung stands not too far away. Her fingers clamped onto the metal with all her might. Her left foot tamping the ground in a rhythmic beat of an old lullaby her mom sang to her as a child. The pine aroma in the atmosphere settles her; but then it mixes with Soonyoung’s citrus colonge and it embroils that anxiety back in her.

He turns his head to face her, gazing confused at her side profile. in a breath, she too turns to look at him. “Let’s start over,” Pausing, Boyoung relaxes her stance and gazes out at the stone path below where busying students laugh and talk. “Lately, things have been tough. At home, and at school. And instead of talking about it, I’ve been holding it in and taking it out on everyone…especially you.”

“So, then talk about it.” Is all Soonyoung says, as he casually leans his body against the railing, leaning his chin atop his arms as he turns away from her and toward the view.

Boyoung can’t lie. She can’t, even if she wants to. Soonyoung is too good at spotting out her lies and fakeness. She has to be as truthful as she possibly can…if that’s possible. “Well,” She begins—her foot continuing to tap as her fingers dance along the railing—she bites the inside of her cheek for moral support. “My grades are slipping, I feel like no matter what I do, I can’t retain the material…I don’t remember anything.”

“Study harder, at this rate, you still have a chance of passing the college entrance exam.” He offers up with a snort. It’s supposed to be a joke; but, it only makes the girl sigh. She can’t do worse than the past. From what Boyoung remembers, even back then, she barely passed. If it wasn’t for her father’s influence with his corporation, she probably wouldn’t have gotten into the college she wanted. Though, she still would’ve gotten into a moderate one, maybe not the best; but, still good. “What about your family?” The auburn-haired boy asks with an urging tone—as he continues to side eye her, looking for faults in her words. Like always, he’s overanalyzing her.

Boyoung grits her teeth, “It’s difficult, mom and dad are fighting. And,” The girl pauses again. Wiping a hand down her face and pushing past any hint of lies. Because, technically she isn’t…she’s just speeding up events. “I overheard my dad on the phone the other night, he was telling his lawyer to begin setting assets aside so that once I turn nineteen and enter college…he can divorce my mom and end things, for good.”

That day did really happen. She was eighteen, only five months and fourteen weeks before her nineteenth birthday. At that time, she was careless. Ignored the conversation and what her father was about to do to her mother. Boyoung hates admitting it, she was selfish back then. After everything happened, she only ever focused on her problems. Her friends. Her bullying problem. Her school issues. Her accident. She never saw what was happening around her and refused to believe that her mother was having a hard, if not a harder, time than she.

Soonyoung in a deep breath as he straightens his body and turns toward her. Quietly standing, Boyoung lets her fingers glide against her cheeks—wiping away the slim tears that slip down without her consent. Through her mournful thoughts, she smiles tediously. “I feel pity for my mom, she knows nothing,” She shrugs her shoulders—the last of the tears dissipating, “Mom’s blinded by him, and I can’t do anything—she can’t see past him.”

“My grandmother says that most women are blinded by love,” From his back pocket, Soonyoung passes a fresh white cloth to the girl. Allowing for her to clear her smudged makeup and tears. “I guess that isn’t a load of crap after all.”

Boyoung snorts, shoving the cloth back into his grip. “This isn’t a joke, and since when do you cuss?”

“I’m not joking, my grandma really did say that!” He replies as he shoves his finger toward her face with a foe-frown. “And I don’t cuss, it just slipped,” Boyoung scoffs, shoving his shoulder before leaning her back against the railing. He does the same. “So, what are you going to do?”

She turns her head to look at him, “About?”

“Your grades. Your mom. Your dad…Chunja. Chan. Minghao. And Jun too,” Soonyoung tilts his head as he crosses his arms over his chest. Gritting his teeth, he continues. “It’s only been a few days, and you have more problems than I originally calculated.” Boyoung frowns, you really don’t know the half of it.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” She asks quietly.

Soonyoung chuckles as he throws his arm around her shoulders, “I was never mad in the first place. You taught me at a young age, that everyone has a reason for what they do. Yours was stupid; but, nevertheless, I understood,” He tilts his head, turning it slightly to look directly at her. “Initially, I thought it was a good idea to give you space, like you wanted. And that turned into a downward spiral: making you create even more problems for yourself. Seriously Boyoung, how do you survive without me?”

The girl shrugs, “I obviously don’t.”

“You know what you need?” Soonyoung pulls away from the railing, dragging Boyoung along with him by the hand. His other hand sits in his navy jacket pocket, a playful smirk on his lips. He turns her with purpose, back towards the railing. Closer this time. “Stress reliever.” Is all he says in answer to her questioning gaze.

Boyoung frowns at him, “Hunh?”

He sends a smile her away as his feet insert themselves into the slots of the paling. His body leans forward as a gargling noise sounds from the back of his throat. Boyoung grimaces, “What exactly are you doing?” Once again, he only sends a smirk; before switching his view to the scape below them. With outstretches fingers he counts down. Three. He closes his index finger over his palm. Two. Same with the middle. One.

The minute his pointer finger clasps shut, he smacks his lips together and gurgles out a nauseating wad of saliva. The mixture of saliva and food falls through the misty abyss. Five slow unmoving seconds go by; before some poor female is crying out in disgust. Soonyoung had spit. From the second story of the cafeteria building.

“That’s disgusting, Soonyoung!” The girl shouts as she reaches forward and slaps his arm.

He turns toward her with a lazy smile, “Look, it really helps! All you have to do is think of the one thing you hate the most in the world, and pretend like you’re really spitting on it. It’s one of the vilest things you can do to someone…spitting on them.” Boyoung blinks back at him.

“You actually did spit on someone.” She remarks as she gestures down below.

Soonyoung grimaces, “Not everyone’s a winner.”

“That is honestly one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever heard and witnessed,” Boyoung tilts her head to the side as her eyes shift out toward the foggy quad below. She thinks about it. What would be so bad? Of course, spitting on someone is awful; but, she really can use a stress reliever. “Alright, I’ll try.”

Soonyoung claps her on the back with a smile, “Knew you would.”

“Right,” She muses, “Because you know me so well.”

There’s a limit to everything, Boyoung thinks, but she can’t say the same for what possess her to think of Saeran when she spits a loogie down into the void. There’s no way, someone like Thuy Mai nor Yoon Jeonghan, would be caught doing this.

For a split second, Boyoung only feels bliss.

In her head, she watches the features of Saeran become angered at the saliva dripping down his hair onto his nose, down his chin to his clothes. It builds a happiness in her that spreads to a smile onto her face.

“Bo, we have to go!” Her eyes snap open the minute yelling is heard from the quad. A teacher, most likely. Maybe one of the security guards or a staff member. Whoever it is, isn’t happy, and definitely doesn’t like that someone just spat on them.

Soonyoung grips her hand tightly as he pulls her with him down the stairwell, just as footsteps enter the hallway they were once in. The two breath heavily as they trek down the stairs and back into the bustling cafeteria. Slowly, the make their way to their table. He sits beside Jun. She sits beside Chan. Nobody says a word. Not even as Coach Choi—of the basketball team—comes running into the cafeteria with a wet stain in his hair.

“Who did this?” He shouts. Cutting off the talking around the room. Everyone stares. Nobody answers. “Who spit on me from the balcony above the courtyard?” It doesn’t take long for Coach Choi to realize no one is going to answer. After a few minutes of pacing back and forth, and making eye contact with kids who sit close to where he stands, he leaves grumbling.

Inwardly, Boyoung snickers.

“I’m not a good guesser; but, if I had too, do the two of you happen to be involved with…that?” Jun questions as his arm stretches across the back of Chunja’s chair.

Soonyoung glances at her, smiling and about to laugh.

The whole thing is stupid. Funny too…but stupid nevertheless. And something she never knew Soonyoung did from time to time. Maybe it truly is a good thing for her to come back to the past. Not just to fix it, but to see what she missed too. Because something’s telling her that she didn’t know her friends as well as she thought.

Soon, the bell rings and everyone scatters to get to their locker before class starts. Jun, Soonyoung, and Chunja head off first—sending waves in the others direction. Silently, Minghao and Chan follow after Boyoung who walks a few feet in front of them.

They walk through the senior buildings first floor (the lobby as its affectionally called). A shortcut the three figured out some time during Minghao and Boyoung’s sophomore year. They pass by lockers upon lockers with students hanging around them, busying themselves.

It’s not until Boyoung spots a dark-haired girl flying past her, that she stops. Glancing over her shoulder, she watches as Thuy hurries into the nearest bathroom. Running after her—from the opposite end of the hallway—is Jisoo, obviously concerned. What could that be about?

“Hey,” Minghao grabs her shoulder, shaking it gently. “You coming?”

Boyoung nods, falling into step with them. No longer walking in front. Minghao takes her bag from her, and slides it over his shoulder. For whatever reason, he must forgive her.

“God, Mister Kim is so lucky, man!” A senior boy with a massive smirk and sharp jawline chuckles as he stands beside a similar looking boy with blonde hair. “Who knew hot girls would spread their legs for high grades?”

The corners of Boyoung’s mouth falls as she scoots closer to Minghao, her fingers clutching around his arm, and further away from those boys. The words they say make her skin crawl. The only thing that makes it worse, is when she spots bold letters plastered across a locker door.

Thuy the .

“Whoa, that’s awful.” Chan mutters as the three stare at the red paint sliding down the front.

A paper is wedged in between a crack of the door hinge. Boyoung grabs it. Her body stills. No matter what the truth is. No matter what Thuy may or may not have done: it’s no one’s business. Especially not hers. But she can’t help but be interested in what’s on the note. She wishes she wasn’t.

Pretty faces don’t have brains.
They only have pretty bodies.
—A.S

▰▰▰

“Boyoung, wake up, your father’s almost home, we’re having dinner.”

Boyoung stirs, not able to recall the exact moment she’d slipped out of consciousness. When she’d sat down on her bed after changing into warm, dry clothes, and spreading her homework around her, it had been bright out. Now it’s dark, her window open to the dingy night.

“What time is it?” She groggily asks her mother.

The woman stands by the door but she’s only a blur to Boyoung. “Almost eight, he just touched down. He’s about ten minutes away. Get dressed, and ready for dinner.” She says before retreating out of the room.

Boyoung groans as she sits up. She never understood why the two of them had to drop everything for him when he couldn’t even live up to commitments he arranged himself. Maybe it was because she had just a woken from a nap, or perhaps it’s her lingering annoyance with everything going on. But she’s in a grouchy mood when she heads downstairs. In actuality, maybe it’s just her dad in general.

He stands at the base of the stairs, her mother only a few inches away—a glass of red wine inching very closely off the side table beside her. Her mother’s nervous. As is her father; but, he hides it better. He was always good at hiding his true emotions.

“Hi, pumpkin!” He says enthusiastically as his eyes land on Boyoung. Juggling his overnight bag, he manages to scoop her into a fatherly hug when she reaches the bottom of the stairs.

Boyoung backs out of it quietly, “Hi…dad.” She doesn’t even try to match his enthusiasm. Instead she takes his luggage, not wanting to start the night off on a bad foot.

“How are you? How’s school?” He asks—mildly interested but not truly.

Boyoung shrugs, “Great, I have a calculus test next week.”

“Already?” He chuckles, nearly reaching across to ruffle her hair. Only to see her flinch, forcing him to back off. “I guess junior year is moving pretty fast, hunh?” Boyoung passively nods.

Her mother hangs awkwardly beside them, and she knows her mother probably wants to greet him in private. Whether to fight or not, is something Boyoung can’t seem to pick up on. Anxiousness is all that is there.

They had picked up take away on the way home, which sits in the oven keeping hot. Her stomach growls. “I’ll go set the table,” Is all she offers. Gaining nods of approval.

Boyoung’s parents were young when they married, both in their early twenties. Her mother two years her father’s senior. He had a fortune and she had a failing business, so it was a marriage of convenience. Well, that’s what she thought of it anyway. To be frank, she can’t ever picture a time in which he loved her.

But her mother? She loves him. She wouldn’t be so emotional if she didn’t.

Boyoung presumes she had gotten lucky with the share of genetics between them. She has her mother’s soft features with her father’s broad jaw and problem solving skills. But, she also has their weaknesses, which bugs her more than anything.

Quiet murmuring in the other room is heard, before they return to join Boyoung at the dining table moments later.

“So, what have I missed?” Her father asks.

Everything.

Boyoung sighs, “Not much.” Is all she says, curling a forkful of noodles before shoving them to the side of her plate. Her mind focuses elsewhere. On school. On Thuy. On that Note. A.S. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out A.S stands for Ahn Saeran. But the question is why? Why did he write that? Why did he call her a ? Why did those boys at school say those things about ‘hot girls’ opening their ‘legs’ for ‘high grades’? Was that about Thuy…of course it was.

“Dongwoon, and Youngae—next door—bought a cat. Screechy little thing, I saw it in our hydrangeas earlier chasing a butterfly. At least it will keep rodents away…I presume.” Her mother says as she swirls her wine glass and keeps her gaze on her husband.

Nobody says anything in response.

“And I saw the Jang’s house up for sale. You know, the ones at the top of the street?”

Her father grunts, “Oh, really?” Her mother perks up at his voice.

“Yes, I’m still convinced they got a divorce; but neither of them have said anything official.” Boyoung nods her head. It was a well-kept secret—the Jang’s divorce—for about four years. Apparently, the misses had slept with another man and gotten pregnant with his child. After the child’s birth, they divorced but news of it didn’t come along until she married the child’s father four years later.

Her father smirks, “It’s like our neighborhood should be in a gossip magazine.” He muses…rudely. It’s not the words but rather the condescending uncaring way he delivers them that made it feel like he just verbally slapped her.

“I, I’m just keeping you updated.” Her mother mutters.

The table falls silent after that.

Boyoung shakes her head, “You know, I’m not feeling great, I think I’m coming down with something,” She says, pushing her plate further away from her. “It must’ve been the weather today, I’ll go lie down.”

Her mother spares her a worried look, “Okay, honey, get some rest. I’ll come check on you a little later.” Boyoung nods as she watches her father send a look of what could possibly be translated as concern; before heading back up the stairs to her room. Away from the drama.

It really isn’t that much of a surprise to her, to find her bedroom window wide open—drapes swinging side to side due to the wind—and Soonyoung lounging in her desk chair eating a bowl of soup his mom must’ve made him. Often, more than not, Soonyoung would make his way to her bedroom whenever he knew she was upset. Those nights were usually specific to the days her dad was home.

He looks at her, and watches as she drops onto her bed with a grunt.

“I take it, dinner didn’t go too well?” She grumbles back in response.

Soonyoung swivels around in the chair to face her direction and prop his legs up on her bed. “Did the taboo subject get brought up?” Boyoung sniggers as she flips over to look at the ceiling. The boy who wears glasses two times too big, had made it a point to call divorce the ‘taboo subject’ of her family. That along with calling her father ‘the-man-who-must-not-be-named’ a take on Voldemort or whatever that is.

“No, but they may have well signed the damn papers.” Is her answer sealed in opaqueness; but Soonyoung can spot the anger easily. Again, in his eyes, she’s not opaque. She’s transparent.

He fixes his glasses and takes a sip of his soup before continuing their conversation. “Would you be okay if they decided to divorce? I mean, you act like you will be, but do you really think you would?” Boyoung was never okay with their divorce. For a while she refused to believe it bothered her. And then it did. And she couldn’t stop the nagging feeling whenever she saw her mother alone without that glistening smile she once wore when she was married. Or the way she used to laugh so bubbly when talking about her husband to her narcissistic and jealous friends. In a way, the divorce bothered her because she felt guilt and pity to her mother.

Boyoung turns her body to face him, “Are you my therapist?” Soonyoung shrugs.

“Will it help you answer the question if I am?” Boyoung nods, Soonyoung chuckles. “Then yes.”

The girl lazily twists back onto her back—a sigh leaving . “I guess, in a way, I’d feel free…almost. Right now, all I feel is guilt. Seeing mom pine after dad when all he wants to do is divorce her, it fills me with shame. At the same time, I know that if they do divorce, mom won’t be the same and although I’ll be happy we’re both free…I know I’ll always pity her.”

“We put on a fake smile to hide the pain, yet we wish someone would look close enough to see how broken we really are inside.” Soonyoung puts down his soup to stretch out in his chair and watch Boyoung as she once again faces him. It honestly wouldn’t surprise her if he actually did become a therapist in the future.

“Your grandma has a lot of wise quotes.” She murmurs as she traces the print of her bed sheet.

He chuckles, “I got that one from the internet.”

“Right!” Boyoung meditates as she flings one of her throw pills at him.

Soonyoung catches it with ease—setting it in his lap and placing his arms over it. “Maybe you should tell her, your mom, about the phone call. Maybe if she knows, you won’t feel guilty.” Boyoung’s thought about that; but she can’t bring herself to do it. The amount of love her mother shows for her father is something that Boyoung doesn’t want to break. She should live blissfully until that day. Thinking everything’s fine, that it’s only a phase he’ll gradually get over. It’s better than knowing that all he wants is to divorce her.

“Maybe.” Is all she responds with.

Soonyoung throws the pillow back at her, it lands only a few inches away from her face. Gradually he gets up before pushing her chair back toward her desk and grabbing the bowl now ridden of any soup. He heads for the window, “Ah,” Turning back around, the boy with the large glasses squints at her. “Chunja wanted me to invite you to the senior camping trip: it starts Saturday morning, and ends Wednesday. We each get to bring a lower classman, and she wants to take you. Jun’s taking Minghao, if that interests you. I’d take Chan; but, he has some other stuff going on.”

Boyoung’s eyebrows furrow. That stupid camping trip was the initial start of why Chunja began to dislike her. She could never figure out why; but, if she doesn’t go then it won’t happen. And maybe a little bit of her sanity, and their friendship, will stay together.

“I can’t, I need to study more…remember, my grades.” She answers with a stern nod.

Soonyoung chuckles, “Right, dummy needs to study.”

“Mean!” Boyoung replies with a frown.

“It’s a joke, Bo.” He laughs as he climbs out her window with ease.

She continues to pout, “Since when do you joke?”