Torturous, just torturous. I would rather be under the unrelenting gaze of the sunlight, dancing randomly behind some teacher’s back, skate in the library and land myself into beautiful-detention or spend hours in the supermarket – throwing watermelons and tomatoes into some random shopper’s basket. I would trade my life with anyone else rather than this.

Being a goody-two-shoes, attempting to get extra credits by completing essays on a freaking weekend.

“In-Na, are you done with your essay on British Colonization?” L.Joe stated, burying his head underneath the book, in complete frustration. Simply said, we were both dying of boredom – being trapped indoors on a Sunday.

We have lost the inspiration, the drive and just about anything to cope with this energy-draining charade of being “an all-saint student.”

Kill us.

“Are we a bunch of losers or are we not?” I sighed, scribbling down answers into the leather-bounded book. “We have to please the History Teacher for that review. Bull-crap.”

“Do you have plans right after this gag-worthy, vomit-triggering activity?” he questioned, not moving an inch from his dazed position.

I groaned, thinking about being stuck in this boarding school, having absolutely nothing worth looking forward to for a whole semester. I closed my eyes, thinking about how my life is nothing more than a series of planned-out notes, being jotted down onto a bounded book. I was holding on to the last bit of sanity left inside of me. My life is ruined. “No. Do you know what stinks even more, pretty boy?”

“What?” L.Joe lightly rolled his eyes, seeing the list of unanswered questions in his book.

He attempted the trickiest question of them all by throwing a coin. Plainly continuing with our half-hanging conversation, he inquired.

“What could be worse than pretending that we are all about facts, books, paying full attention in class, pretending to care about trivial things like world-facts and solving mathematical equations, when in reality, we are meant to do so much more. Just like how I don’t give a freaking damn in finding the volume of a cube or the unknown side of a dumb triangle.” He half-groaned, cracking his knuckles.

“I don’t give a damn either. Who cares about the value of x?” I muttered, noting that L.Joe had a look of annoyance stamped across his face.

“So, what stinks even more than all of that?” He frowned, flipping through his book.

“Fooling everyone around me,” I whispered, tracing randomly against the lined-paper. “We have everybody fooled, Byunghun. I hate that.”

After immersing myself with books, completing extra-credits homework and more assignments, I headed back to my dormitory. In no doubt, fatigue took control of me.

“What the-“ I grew wide-eyed.

“Why are you looking through my belongings? Freaks!” I gritted my teeth, shoving my annoying dorm buddies aside where they were huddling around my book of contacts. “Give-it-to-me!” I yelled, trying to grab the book away from Sungyeol’s grasp.

“Aw man, you have a couple of girls’ contacts in your book.” Sungyeol widened his eyes in awed. His height - undeniably an advantage towards this infuriating situation. I tiptoed, yelled and kept screaming, alike to a lunatic just to have my book back.

My words fell upon deaf ears, where they were still throwing my book around. Jerks.

Sungyeol threw it over to Woohyun, where his lips upturned into a smirk. “Lost lamb, who are these girls?”

“Introduce them to us. Sharing is caring.” Sungyeol grinned, enjoying the fact that I was fuming. My eyes brooded in frustration, pulling the book away from Woohyun’s grasp.

“You’re quite the ladies man?” Woohyun raised an eyebrow, curiosity filling up his tone.

I kept quiet, ignoring the questions that have been darted towards me. Myungsoo stayed silent. Our gazes locked.

“Niel, what’s your ideal type? Are the girls any of your type? Who are they?” Woohyun cleared his throat, questioning me in the middle of my mental-breakdown. He wriggled his eyebrows. Sungyeol did a happy dance. Seriously, dorks.

That book consisted of all of my friends’ contact numbers. If they were to observe, probe deeper or nose into my belongings without my permission – without respect, my identity will be at risk. How aggravating.

How oblivious or thickheaded are these people?

Couldn’t they tell from my facial expression or body language that I was about to blow up? ‘Park In-Na’s erupting anger-quake’ heightened, and there was no backing out. They’re in for trouble.

“So, is this normal for you guys?” I shouted, fist clenched. My boy-voice became prominent than ever. “Snooping into people’s belongings? Damn. Because if you think it’s funny to look into my belongings, you guys are just-” I paused, recollecting my cool. I feared that if I were to go all out on them, I would be screwed.

Last straw. I couldn’t continue my speech as I slammed my book against the wooden desk. My temper took over me. Shifting my feet against the dormitory’s flooring, I jumped up the staircase that leads to the top bunk bed in anger, ignoring the fact that Sungyeol, Woohyun and Myungsoo were staring intently right at me. Sungyeol opened his mouth, and had it closed momentarily.

The situation thickened.

Woohyun stammered, “Niel, we are really sorry.”

No words escaped from my lips. I feigned pretense. As I stayed seated