“Your assignment is to find him.  And kill him.”

                In short, I am so screwed,

                “Yeah, Hyuna, do you want to go on a new assignment?”  I storm down the hallway, resisting my urge to punch someone (aka my boss) in the face while grumbling to myself all the while.  “Do you want to get yourself killed by one of the most dangerous hitmen in Korea?  Yeah, sure!”

                Room 510 looms in front of me as I come to a halt.  “Should’ve given it to Eryk,” I mutter under my breath, digging my room key out of my pocket and jamming it into the lock.  I turn it and the door opens with a click.  “Stupid Kibum can get himself killed.”

                It’s been only half an hour since I heard the news.  After “debriefing” me on the other details (or lack thereof—the entire assignment objective consisted of “kill him somehow—we don’t care how”), the boss told me and Kibum to get out of his office.  Kibum went off on his own separate way (looking as shocked as I was, actually) and after kicking my way around the halls to try to calm myself down, I’m back in my room.  I’m still pissed off.  Whoever said that walking around helps you blow off steam lied.  I’m mad, but most of all, I’m scared.  How the hell am I supposed to kill Jang Hyunseung?

                Screwed.  I am so screwed.

                My miniature prison greets me like always, and I sit down on the bed with a groan.  A folded piece of paper, the one that’s sat under there since I came to BREAK, sticks out from under the mattress.  The corner peeps out, just enough that I’m reminded it’s there but not enough that other people can see it.

                I yank the paper out and unfold it.  The page is crinkled, the ink steadily fading.  The edge of the paper is fraying and pieces are coming off like snow.  But the boy who stares out still looks the same.

                “What are you looking at?” I demand, glaring at a smirking Tae Jun.  “This is your fault!”

                I crumple the decaying photo up and throw it as hard as I can across the room.

                Someone up there must be screwing around with me, because the wad of paper bounces a few times across the floor before rolling under my desk, right next to the notebook that’s shoved underneath.  Is that supposed to be ironic?  I get up and walk over, crawling underneath and retrieving both the paper and the book.  I bring both back to my bed, and after carefully unfolding Tae-Jun’s picture and putting it back under my mattress, I open the notebook to the page I was writing on before.

                Everything was going along great when

               “Story of my life,” I say out loud, mostly because it’s true.  Just when everything’s going along fine, something’s going to screw up.  In my case, everything screwed up.  Everything.  And as most screw ups go, I can’t fix it.

                Why am I writing my past to an imaginary listener?  The boss would call it a mistake of sentimentality.  “Emotions make you weak,” he commonly says, but I never have been able to let go of my past and I don’t think I ever will.  The only thing I can do is talk about it, really.

                Even if I’m talking about it to a bundle of worthless paper.

                I pick up the pencil that’s stuck into the binding of the notebook, staring at the unfinished sentence in front of me before flipping it to a new page.

                It’s Tae-Jun’s fault and it always will be.  That’s how I look at it, at least.  Why did I ever go out with him?  He’s the idiot who decided to say things he shouldn’t have.  He’s the idiot who got my parents killed!

                No, I’d like to blame everything on Tae-Jun, but my conscience won’t even let me do that.  Being my naïve self in high school, I thought I was invincible and jumped at the chance to get revenge on the asses who killed my parents.  And look where it got me.  Into a gang, and even worse, into here.

                At least I got revenge.

                At least death by burning is one of the worst deaths out there.

                I put my pencil back into the notebook, examining my new half sheet of writing in satisfaction as I close it and put it under the bed along with Tae-Jun’s picture. 

                Needless to say, the gang who went after my parents suffered the most in the end.  I completely obliterated them and their hideout the week after my parents’ funeral.  That was when Tae-Jun and the leader of the gang he was in told me I have “the killing instinct.”  Can I help it if, in my blind rage, I poured gasoline all over the building and burned it to the ground?

                I don’t know if I really want the killing instinct.  But at least they screamed pretty damn loud.

                “That’s what you get for messing with me, s,” I say just before I hear a knock on the door.

                I look up at the closed door for a minute.  Do I want to talk to anyone right now…?  Not really.  But it could be something important.  By some slim chance, the boss could be coming to my room…or something like that.

                “Come in,” I call, after a long moment of silence and elaboration.

                I regret the words an instant after I say them, because the door opens and idiot Kibum is standing there. 

                Dead.  Silence.  I wait for him to explain why he’s here, but he just kind of stares.  I eventually prompt him for an explanation.  “What do you want?”

                “You’re going after Jang Hyunseung,” is all he apparently has to say.

                “Yes, I am going after Jang Hyunseung, that’s very observant of you, Kibum.  It’s not like you were standing in the office when I was given the assignment or anything like that.”

                For once, I don’t get a snarky remark back.  Kibum just interests himself in standing there awkwardly and staring some more.  “Don’t get killed,” he mutters, half to himself and half to me.

                “Is that all you came to say?  A new recruit could tell me something like that, with far less time than it’s taken you to get out a couple of words.”

                “Honestly, it’s the only thing I can think to say.”

                “Then I’m glad you took time out of your busy schedule to give me some completely useless advice.”  I roll my eyes and get up, walking to the closet.  A duffel bag that I retrieved earlier sits next to it.  I start pulling out clothes carelessly, tossing them in without any real effort to actually make it into the bag.  “Now, if you’re going to just stand there, go away.  I have packing to do.”

                Kibum looks slightly uncomfortable now.  Both of his hands are behind his back, and he’s practically twitching.  “That’s not all I was going to say.”

                His nervousness along with his actual words somewhat piques my curiosity.  I turn to look at him, raising a single eyebrow as I do so.  “Then, what else were you going to say?”

                My question is, once again, answered by a long silence and awkward staring.  And Kibum, once again, gives a completely useless answer.  “Nevermind.”  He turns to go, half frowning.  “It wasn’t important.”

                “Don’t be a and tell me.”  I cross my arms, irked.  Besides idiots, I especially don’t like it when people keep things from me.  Even if they’re the most pointless things in the world.  “You were already about to say it.”

                “Yeah, well if you actually knew what I was going to—“ He cuts off midsentence, shaking his head.  “Just…be careful, okay?”

                “Careful is my middle name,” I say sarcastically.

                “I thought you didn’t have a middle name.”

                “It’s called sarcasm, okay?”  See, this is why he’s the idiot.  I kneel down next to my bag, stuffing the selected items inside and yanking on the zipper rather forcefully to close it.  “Why do you even care?  If I die, that means you get more assignments, doesn’t it?”

                Kibum looks horrified just at the thought.  “You think I want you to die?”

                “If I were you I would want me to die too.”

                “I don’t want you to die.”  He looks surprisingly serious as he says it.  “So don’t.”

                “I’ll keep that in mind and make sure I get shot just because you said that.”

                “Hyuna!  I’m being serious here!” 

                I stand up, slinging the duffel bag over my shoulder.  The sooner I get this all over with, the better, right?  (It’s not like I had much to pack in the first place, anyways.  My bag already has guns and weapons stored in it at all times.)  “You shouldn’t try to be serious.  It’s not befitting for an idiot Kibum.” 

                I don’t get the usual, “It’s Eryk.”  Surprising.  What’s up with Kibum today?  Just a few hours ago he was being his dorky idiotic self…

                “Well, I’m leaving,” I say after another moment of silence.  “So, see you on the other side, I guess.”

                Kibum’s still in the doorway, but he doesn’t move.  I tap my foot impatiently.  “Would you like to let me leave my room now?”

                He seems to come alive at that.  “Oh.  Sorry.”  He steps aside, and I walk past him, my head held high.  Even if I really don’t feel very confident at all right now.  Even if I’m just about ready to run screaming in the other direction. 

                Even if this assignment is the last thing I want to do, I’m a BREAK agent and it’s my job. 

                The last thing Kibum says before I’m out of earshot is a jumble of rushed words that may or may not have been, “I think I love you.”

Well, so much for “each chapter is going to be long!” …mostly because this chapter is pretty much just talking with Kibum the whole time.  Meep. 

But yes, here is the 3^rd chapter…extremely extremely extremely late third chapter ^ ^; Sorry…  (the latter half of the chapter came out surprising well for being written while sitting on an airplane, though.  Boredom=inspiration?)  Do you know how hard it is to write the end of the chapter when your sister is literally sitting at your shoulder going, “Hug, hug, hug, hug!”  …it was quite irritating.

Yes, obnoxious sister, you know who you are.

Should the next chapter be Hyuna or Hyunseung? (I like comments :) Especially ones with feedback.)