xxv. What Lies Behind the Lies

The short and stout history teacher continued to drone on about the inner workings of historical events and how they impacted the years that followed them. Niel wouldn’t say it was his favorite class of the day. In fact, it wasn’t at all. He loved history but this tumbling, waddling, rude teacup of a teacher they had for the subject was causing him to develop a love-hate relationship for the class as a whole. Niel had actually found out through the time he spent with you that history was your best subject. You would memorize facts like it was the easiest thing in the world and regurgitate them back at him when the three of you – three including himself, you, and Ricky – would study together. But, you also knew how to create connections between different time periods or the people in them. He found it amazing, really.

He found it entertaining, really. Entertaining in that during history class you would always put up with the teacup teacher, who hated you since day one when you chose the wrong seat back last fall, with a smile on your face. It irritated the short man to no end and led him to often skip his rather bias and uninteresting analysis of history as a whole. That’s what Niel liked about you before he even talked to you. Before you became as good a friend as Ricky was to him. His attachment to you had grown rather quickly and abruptly after all.

However, Ricky’s attachment had grown twice as fast as his. It was why Niel’s shorter-than-average best friend was twiddling his thumbs as he stared down at his desk, not at all paying attention to the boring lecture taking place. It was because you weren’t here today that his best friend and himself were more bored than usual. Niel just wanted class to end so that he could check and see if the rest of your friends, not just Myungsoo who was in his homeroom, were not at school today. Because then it would make a little bit more sense why you weren’t there to greet them with a large smile on your face this morning.

Niel only wished he would have gotten Sungjong’s number when he had the chance. He was given the chance awhile ago, but he didn’t charge his phone that day and he wasn’t one for writing things down while Ricky wasn’t in the least bit willing to become close friends with any of them – it was his attachment that blinded him. But, Niel knew Ricky was regretting not having the young, pretty boy’s number in his phone right now as well.

As the teacher went off into a tangent about the impact of the tuna migration on the fishing industry during the post World War I period, Niel caught Ricky rolling his eyes. They sat beside each other, so it wasn’t hard to notice. Neither was Ricky’s low, somewhat confusing mumbling of, “I’d like to slap you upside the head with a tuna fish right about now.”

Niel sighed as he propped his elbow up onto his desk, finding that this was yet another point in time during history class where none of the material discussed would be on the final exam. It was just for “funsies.” Just for the enjoyment of Mr. Teacup, their history teacher— not his real name but a self-imposed nickname Niel assigned to him then and there— himself. He rested his chin in his palm as his eyes started to wander the classroom. They landed on one thing in particular.

Niel’s eyes rested on that desk that sat all the way in the front of the classroom. That empty desk that belonged to you. That you should have been sitting in when school started over an hour ago. But, you weren’t. You weren’t and that meant that something had happened. What that something was, Niel didn’t know. What that something was, Niel didn’t want to know. The only thing that mattered was that you’d be sitting there tomorrow.

You would be sitting there tomorrow, wouldn’t you?

Sunhwa’s glass shattering scream drummed against the inside of his ears. She was scared. Or at the very least, she appeared to be. Though Zico knew that when it came to appearances with the four femme fatale hunters, anything was as it seemed. Still, he commended her acting ability as she backed away from him, her feet almost tripping over themselves. She pivoted on her heel, scurrying farther into the foyer. He wouldn’t let her get away so easily as he kept up with her hastened steps with ease.

As soon as Sunhwa’s body passed the threshold of the foyer into the living room, she was yanked backwards by her arm. She yelped as Zico lifted her arm high up into the air, twisting it at such an angle that her bones screamed internally, the feeling of muscle tearing causing excruciating pain to go rushing through her body. She met Zico’s eyes, tears b over her own as she pouted her red tinted lips at him.

He expected a plea. A broken, cracked, stuttering voice to leave her lips. But, again, he should have known it was all a ploy. He should have known that, despite the big, brown eyes she was giving him as his hold on her threatened to break her arm, it was all an act.

Her eyebrows furrowed downwards as her free hand reached downwards, slipping beneath the hem of her long sleeved shirt, and she purred almost wearily, “That’s no way to treat a lady, wolf boy.”

And from beneath her shirt came a blur of silver. A blur of a knife whose edge ran across the side of Zico’s face, cutting just beneath his right eye. The electric shock that ran through him as the tip made contact with his skin was enough to startle him into loosening his grip on the fiery haired hunter. She took the opportunity to yank herself from his grip and proceeded to back away, one foot behind the other, one knife gleaming underneath the dim lighting as she held it in front of her defensively.

Zico brought his hand upwards, running it across the still tingling wound. His hand burned as he pressed down, a first degree burn that felt like a third stinging his fingertips. As he withdrew his hand, he looked to his fingers with an amused quirk of his eyebrow upwards, “Wolfsbane coated knife?” He drew his eyes away from his digits, resting them upon the female hunter who trembled at the sight of the smile that adorned his features then, “I’m getting really fed up with all these up-skirt tricks of yours.”

He took one step closer to her, prompting one step back on her part. Forward, back, forward, back, the cat was closing in on the mouse. The werewolf was getting closer and closer to ending the life of the hunter.

“I mean, the first one was surprising,” Zico confessed with a nod of his head, “shocking even. But, the fourth time just doesn’t have that,” he paused, searching for the apt word to use. It didn’t take long for him to find it as he lifted his blood stained fingers, pressing down onto the pad of his thumb with his middle finger before a loud snap rang through the air, “spark.”  

And what coupled this swift snap of his fingers was the even swifter retreat of the female hunter backwards as she flipped herself over the couch, putting a significant distance between them. She whipped her hair back as she focused on him once more. She sent her knife sailing forward, aimed directly at his head, with a single flick of her wrist. She cared not for brain splatter at the current point in time. The only thing she cared about was survival. The predator had become the prey.

The once fearless, excitable predator had been reduced to a trembling, fumbling mess of prey as she stared Zico down. Zico, who had a look in his eyes that she couldn’t even describe properly with words. A look she could only describe with regards to the feelings it instilled in her. The most prominent of them being fear. Pure, unabated fear.

He dodged her knife with a quick side step, his features a blur but his eyes still gleaming a dangerous dark brown. A dark brown that seemed to shine hues of red and orange. Though, perhaps that was just the fire that burned in the fireplace reflecting in his pupils as it cackled, swaying this way and that. Sounds of rumbling and glass and wood breaking echoed off the walls, filling the house to the brim as she heard a distant cry. A plea for help whose voice she recognized as Jieun’s.

Which meant the maroon haired hunter had gone down. And it wasn’t long until Sunhwa would as well. But, if she was going down drunk, eyes hazy, hair a mess, body tingling as fear coursed through her veins, she would put up a fight. Her knife struck the wall behind Zico, meaning her only weapon was now out of reach. But, she prided herself on her ability to adapt. To improvise. It’s what her entire hunting party excelled in thanks to Hyosung’s strong urging for them to see anything and everything as a weapon against the monsters they faced – high heels included. And at the current time, the unfinished bottle of wine that was the reason behind her unfocused eyes and dizzy head that still pounded after doing that flip over the couch earlier was looking even more tempting than it had when she was sober.

She grabbed the neck of the bottle, tossing it quickly. And it hit. It shattered against Zico’s unsuspecting temple. The shards of dark green colored glass fell to the floor like crystals, twinkling as drops of thick, red blood accompanied them on their descent. A viscous trail of blood flowed down a defined cheekbone, gathering at Zico’s chin before it dripped noiselessly onto the wooden floorboards. But, unlike the knife wound, the cuts made by the glass that failed to embed itself into his dense skull healed quickly. The Wolfsbane was draining from his system, and fast at that. She had barely nicked him with her knife earlier – so it was understandable – but in no way was it desirable.

“You’re going to have to do better than that.” Zico moved to the back of the couch, flinging it aside with a single grasp and pull of his hand. Blood dripped down his face, his upper lip curled upwards as he snarled, his eyes still glowed that flaming red. He was a monstrous sight that Sunhwa wanted to escape from. That she wanted to run away from. That she wanted to cry out for someone to aid her against, just like Jieun’s unanswered call she heard earlier.

But, she didn’t have to. Someone came to her aid as her world, as the house, seemed to be collapsing all around her. A certain short, brown haired hunter pounced onto his back, Sunhwa’s discarded knife in hand. Zico was too preoccupied to notice that Hyosung had snuck up behind him, the reason she now held Sunhwa’s knife to his neck with one hand as the other palmed at his scalp, holding herself tightly to him in tandem with her legs that wrapped around his torso. While he wasn’t able to prevent her from getting the jump on him, he was more than able to reach back as he bent over, his hand gripping onto the fabric of her dress that lined her back, before sending her tumbling off of his back and onto the floor. The force he used to rip her from him almost tore her dress. Almost.

Now, Hyosung scurried to her feet, maintaining a low defensive position as she brandished Sunhwa’s knife in her hand. Sunhwa attempted to call out to her, to ask what was happening, when Hyosung shut her up with a single statement. A single statement laced with an alternative meaning, “Sunhwa, switch to hollow-point rounds.” 

Sunhwa froze in place, her eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to process what it was she just heard. Or rather, as she tried to comprehend it. Or rather, as she tried to accept it. To accept the fact that this was now an unwinnable battle. And when she did, when she finally wrapped her mind around the idea, she rose on unsteady feet and bolted, leaving Hyosung to deal with Zico on her own. The last sentence that left her lips before she disappeared from the living room was, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

And thus, Hyosung, who had just fought off and ditched a tenacious female werewolf with long black hair and what seemed to be the female’s partner, a younger, tall and goofy looking werewolf in the forest, and Zico, who had long since been looking forward to this moment, were left to fight it out. One looking to prove himself and the other looking to play along.

Hyosung wasted no time in attacking him. But, it seemed as though she was slower than usual. It seemed as though she lost her edge. Maybe it was because she wasn’t wearing the confidence booster that was a woman’s heels. Maybe. Whatever reason though, Zico had no trouble knocking the knife from her hand as she set out to slash his jugular in half. It fell to the floor and skidded away, disappearing from sight underneath the couch Zico had moved as though it was his job to redecorate the space. Moving the couch had its advantages for Hyosung, however it was not enough. The extra range of movement granted to her failed to improve the outlook of the fight between her and Zico. It simply allowed him to send her flying farther across the room as he landed his kick to her torso.

Her back collided with the brick frame of the fireplace, a high-pitched yelp escaping her lips as she felt bones crack. Which ones? Now wasn’t exactly the time to figure that out. She gathered her wits about her and rushed forward, powering her legs by pure instinct. Pure, human instinct that gave her the ability to overpower every werewolf monstrosity that she faced in the past; the number so astronomical she had long since stopped keeping count.

Zico glanced back, spotting the shuffling of fabric behind him, before he focused forward again, back onto Hyosung who was charging at him. And he wasn’t scared. He didn’t feel weak. And, he could still see straight. The adrenaline pumping through his veins didn’t bum rush his head all at once this time.

He knew what he was doing.

He was in control.

And the prospect of fighting the feisty, short brown haired, female hunter whose movements seemed slow and hasty, whose unpredictability he had found a superior to in the form of a certain thick headed girl, didn’t seem as attractive as it once had. It didn’t seem at all as exciting as the quick to end struggle he had with Sunggyu over a week ago.

So then, he found no need to.

He found no need to pull his hands from his jean pockets as she barreled towards him. He simply sidestepped and Hyosung’s roundhouse kick hit nothing but air. She slipped on her bare heel with a single, light nudge from Zico and went falling forward. She would have caught herself. She would have remained undeterred despite not landing her offensive attack on the seemingly nonchalant Zico. She would have, had it not been for the sudden blanket of red that engulfed her.

Quite literally, a red blanket swept her off her feet as she stumbled through the entryway into the foyer. It had been lifted at the last second by the two wolves Zico had spotted just before from the corner of his eyes: Sungyeol and Jaehyo. The two halved the blanket as though folding it before nearing each other with light, lively steps.

“Looks like we’ve bagged ourselves another hunter, then.” Sungyeol grinned widely at Jaehyo, proud of himself as this was his idea rather than Jaehyo’s this time. His idea that Jaehyo didn’t think would work but ended up participating in anyway. Those were the benefits of their newly redefined love-hate relationship – more emphasis on the former than the latter.

“I think we better give her some time to figure out what it is that she did wrong.” Zico taunted, knowing full well that she could hear him through the thin fabric of the hunter’s own foyer drapes. To say he wasn’t basking in this small victory would be an understatement. A gross understatement.

He coiled his fingers through yours, pulling you to walk closer as a car sped down the street beside you. He was being protective. He was being possessive. Yet, despite the pressing of his hot palm against your own, the tight hold of his fingers causing your goose bumps to bristle away at his lingering touch, you felt cold. You felt undeniably cold.

Yet, you also didn’t want to get away. The desire to pull away from his grasp failed to sprout up within you. The desire to reject him nowhere to be found.

Nowhere to be found. It was a fitting description of where the two of you were now. Around forty minutes ago, you both set off from the library on foot. Now, you were on the outskirts of town. The car that drove by moments ago was the first one you had seen since the buildings started disappearing.

“Hakyeon,” you tugged on his hand in an attempt to get his attention. He hadn’t said a single word the entire time. He was simply by your side, a content smile on his face. Or perhaps, it was his usual expression. Perhaps a slight, unwavering smile was the face he had, the mask he wore, even when he wasn’t thinking about anything at all.

His response began with his active gesture of shifting closer to you, closing the gap between your shoulders so that his brushed against yours with every step he took, “I’d like to say I strive on touch. The ability to physically hold something within my hands. To have it physically hold me back. My mother was the affectionate kind who relished in the fact that I resembled her own image so closely. She enjoyed my hair. Holding my hand. There’s something loving about it, don’t you think? Something mentally calming, mentally stimulating, about touching another person. Though, it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, does it?”

He raised your intertwined hands upwards, gazing on at them with narrowed eyes, “It’s not the reason you’re questioning me with the brief calling of my name. You’re lacing your fingers through mine as well, see?” There was a brief pause. A brief pause in which his eyes flashed a brilliant gold and he suddenly jerked his hand to the right, pulling your own and, as a result, your entire body along with it. You stumbled forward. You would have stumbled over had it not been for his grip on your hand that held you steady. And that’s when his voice seemed to traipse between amusement and disappointment, “Even if it caused you to fall down the rabbit hole, you wouldn’t let go, Alice.”

He was right. Even if your curiosity ended up killing you, you would inquisitively follow through like a cat with nine lives. Even if this gray haired rabbit were leading you into the dangerous court of the Queen of Hearts, you would follow him like the adventurous Alice. The real question is: why did the grayed haired rabbit willingly pull Alice along with him? What was the real reason?

“And you’d be the White Rabbit then? Or perhaps the Mad Hatter?” You mused, a light, natural laugh leaving your throat. You turned to him, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you came to a conclusion regarding the argument he presented earlier as he gave you the nickname that would stick from then on: Alice. “I wouldn’t let go because you’d be there,” you were the one who gestured to your intertwined hands now, a smile forming on your lips, “and for some reason, you’re all too willing to catch me before I fall.”

“You’re right. I’ll admit it. I would be mad to deny it. There will always be two sides to an argument. There will always be a second explanation. A second option. That’s how business works.” He proposed you wouldn’t let go of his hand even if you were to fall because of it. You argued back saying you wouldn’t let go of his hand because he’d be there to catch you before you even had the chance to fall. Two sides. Two sides to an argument. Two sides he could not deny, that he’d be mad to deny, because of his extensive knowledge on the inner workings of business. And his explanation of why he spoke in such an intuitive way followed as he read your ever-curious expression once more, “How do I know? You could say its common sense. Then again, my father was a businessman. And, I am his son.”

You wanted to laugh. You wanted to laugh at his familiar words. In fact, one crept up and came out in the form of a scoff. He raised an eyebrow at the sound, a similar gesture leaving his own lips as well. There was no reason for him to be so ambiguous when the truth so blatantly presented itself. That’s why you laughed. That’s why he laughed as well.

And what followed his jeer was a sudden realization on your part. You had finally looked around. You had finally pulled your mind, your thoughts, everything, away from him long enough to notice something. As he had been watching you, as he had been memorizing all the little quirks and hitches and faults in your figure, your frame, your façade, for so long now, it was easy for him to comprehend your realization.

“What? You’ve been up there before?” He nudged his head upwards; gesturing to the path that disappeared not far off due to the shade of the trees bleached white with snow. He breathed out, one single huff of frustration, “And here I thought I was bringing you somewhere special.”

“It is special.” You replied, your voice a whisper as you remembered that day last fall when Woohyun brought you up this very same path.

Up to the hill it lead to. Back when you were staying with Zico’s pack, when they used to be hunters, and you were not interacting with Sunggyu’s, he led you here with an empty threat. It was the day Woohyun decided to trust you. And since then, you felt as though he had never doubted you. And since then, you felt as though none of the werewolves had ever doubted you. So, it was thanks to that moment, wasn’t it? It was thanks to Woohyun who extended his hand to you first, holding in his palm all of his own trust.

A palm that when it pressed against your cheek or ran itself through your hair, it made you feel warm. Undeniably warm.

The feeling of being dunked into chilling water, as though your hand was shifting through the snow beneath your feat, returned as Hakyeon’s voice echoed beside you, “Not in the way I want it to be.”

And there was that smiling face again. And again, you questioned if it were his natural expression, or if he truly was smiling at you right at this very moment. Was it a mask? Or was it real? Who was Cha Hakyeon? You had set out to discover the answer to this question this Monday morning. But, it wasn’t a question so simply answered.

He hooked his fingers around the dusted, iron handle before yanking it back with ease. He didn’t bother to check through the bars of the small window in the door to make sure the person he had locked inside wasn’t ready and waiting to attack him. He had made sure himself that she’d lack the ability to even stand without wobbling and teetering like the leaning Tower of Pisa. A broken bone here and there would do that to a person. Even to a person as inhuman as himself such as the hunter that now sat on the cold, stone floor in front of him.

“Good afternoon.” Hyosung greeted him despite not having a single window to check her insinuation, her keen biological clock telling her that the sun was setting. “Did you come to have your dinner?”

Zico rolled his eyes as he approached her, squatting down right in front of her. She couldn’t do anything to him even if she tried. It was a fact he took pride in, “I can tell just by smelling you that you won’t taste all too good.” He pressed his right palm down onto the cold concrete, leaning closer to her as he let his eyes flutter closed. He breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of her perfume that still so strongly hung to her body. And he whispered as a grimace formed on his face, “Too much Wolfsbane.”

“If you’re not here to eat me,” she started as he backed away from her yet still remained close, not in the least bit threatened by her damaged body, no matter how skillful she was at what she did. Because no matter how much skill she possessed, at the current point in time she didn’t have the strength to back up her skill set. “Then why are you here?” She finished, her voice a raspy vibrato as she took in a deep breath of her own, the musky smell of grass mixed with freshly blooming flowers all she could smell, “To gloat?” Her eyes glanced behind his frame to the door he had left open, “I’m sure it isn’t to give me a chance to escape.”

“I’m not that kind.” He replied, one of his hands reaching down. His fingers skimmed against her shin, drawing a single, large circle that sent shivers down her spine despite his touch being anything but cold, before he gripped down. Zico dug his fingers into her knee as he pressed it closer to the floor. A silent scream left Hyosung as she felt her broken bone cry out in agony. She held it back though, her teeth biting down onto her bottom lip as she clenched her eyes closed. They snapped open however as she heard what Zico said next. “I came to ask you what your name is.”

She managed a hoarse laugh, her strong, arrogant façade returning despite all the pain her body still dully endured as she sat there, “I’ve told you before.” She pursed her lips, seemingly questioning if she hadn’t until she came to a different conclusion. She raised her hand, gesturing with a lackadaisical wave, as she leaned back and rested her head against the stone wall behind her, “Though maybe you were so strung up on Wolfsbane you weren’t even listening. It has the tendency to make a werewolf’s mind feel like its floating so high on cloud nine they can’t see through the thick clouds they’re sailing along on.”

Zico hummed lowly, not caring to take her words with more than a grain of salt, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Hyosung. Jeon Hyosung.” She repeated her name as though casting a spell on him. As though even now, she was ensnaring him within her web. And he was the unsuspecting fly who stumbled upon the black widow. “Sound familiar?”

He ignored the second layer of meaning her question held, choosing ignorance over stupidly proving to her that he was indeed associated with the girl whose name sounded similar to her own – the beginning syllable of “Hyo” sounding too close to “Hyu” for his comfort. “Exactly what are you doing here, Jeon Hyosung?”

Hyosung tucked her chin in, her half-lidded eyes locking with his own, eagle like ones once more. And she answered him as though her words were as natural as breathing, “We’re here to kill you. You, your pack, your friend’s pack, all of you.”

“Then why haven’t you yet?” Zico questioned, his tone laced in curiosity despite the nonchalant front he was attempting to maintain, “Why did it take you so long to come to us that we had to come to you?”

Her eyelashes fluttered, deep brown eyes disappearing three times behind thick, black mesh before her lips quirked upwards just a twitch, “Because you were impatient? Because you wanted to see me again?” He scoffed, his eyes only narrowing into slimmer slits due to her statement. The response prompted her next words, “And here I thought you were the type to appreciate a joke.”

“Does it have something to do with what you said to your friend earlier?” Zico leaned forward, his hand pressing down onto her knee once more, threatening with his gesture that he’d put pressure on it again should she refuse to answer his question, “What was it again? ‘Hollow-point rounds’?” When her eyes widened, Zico knew he had struck gold. His fingers mindlessly circled her chilled knee, dancing across her bruised skin, as he spoke, “It does then. I’m part of a larger group too, as you know. The words we say to each other at certain points in time tend to hold other, underlying meanings. They’re not meant to be interpreted by others. So then, what interpretation does ‘hollow-point rounds’ have exactly?”

Hyosung may have had her pride but she also had the common sense to know when it was in her best interests to cooperate. Besides, she figured she’d get a rather interesting expression out of Zico as a result of her next words. “Hollow-point rounds are rounds of bullets whose tips are hollowed out. The bullet expands as it buries into the tissue of its target, doing more damage and maximizing blood loss. They have better accuracy too.”

Zico’s left eyebrow cocked itself. He was left unsatisfied with her answer. The signs were the obvious lift of his eyebrow and the fact that his fingers dug into her skin for a second time. He didn’t have nails. At least, she hadn’t seen any. Yet, it felt like her knee was being stabbed by five daggers. Had he drawn blood? He wouldn’t have cared. She wouldn’t have cared even if he had. It was all worth it. It was all worth it to see the drastic change in his expression that occurred then as her next words left her lips.

“Though, what it means between us, between Sunhwa, Jieun, Zinger, and I, is duds. It means to fight with an empty goal in mind. It means to fight as though it means nothing. It means don’t fight at all. It means that in the grand scheme of things, we set out to fail.” She leaned forward until her chin brushed against his now stiff jawline. Her breath prickled at Zico’s ear as she spoke, “It’s the reason you’re still alive.”

And like clockwork, three loud pops resounded from outside the open metal door, somewhere upstairs. Somewhere where Zico’s and Sunggyu’s packs currently were. What followed was the scraping of wood against wood, glass shattering onto the floor, and a string of loud curses by a certain female, black haired werewolf.

“Though, I’m not sure if you will be for much longer,” Hyosung mumbled as she leaned back, resting her body against the wall once more.

She was satisfied now even if Zico’s satisfaction would remain unfulfilled. She had got what she wanted. She had gotten the jaw drop, the wide dark brown, almost black, eyes, and the flinch, the twitch, of his lips. She had been able to witness the moment in which his confidence fell from cloud nine and hit the ground in the form of a flaming scrap of what it used to be.

Zico remained motionless. He was as still as a statue as his mind worked to figure out what had gone wrong. And it hit him. The flaw in his and Sunggyu’s plan to attack the hunters head on hit him so quickly that he should have seen it coming. The hunter’s were similar to werewolves in one aspect, though they’d never admit it. They always hunted in packs.

Hyosung nudged her head forward, gesturing to the door which still hung ajar. Not for her escape, but for his, “You may want to check that out.”

A field of white spread out before you in all directions. A chilling gust of wind ran itself through your hair, your fingers, and even the fibers of your clothes. A lot had changed since you last came up here with Woohyun but that didn’t change the fact that the sight of the town in the distance, a gathering of twinkling lights as the sun began to set and the sky began to be filled with black, was breath taking.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it? Springfield.” His voice brought you back, focused you back, on his image. On his toned skin that seemed to contrast so well with the thin layer of white that surrounded you. Dark, effervescent eyes trained on you, his lips pursed into a dissimilar grave expression, “But, everything beautiful has its own fatal flaw. It’s own intuitive, danger-seeking, witty flaw.” Those entrancing eyes of his didn’t leave yours for even a single second, “Do you know it?”

You matched his intense gaze, feeling edged on by it rather than intimidated as you would have been had this been last summer. Last summer before you were met with the dire straights and happy incidences being friends with werewolves supplied you. “Enlighten me.”

He accepted your challenge with a nod, his next words a precursor to his argument about the “flaw” that existed in Springfield, “Describe to me the details of your first day in Springfield. The day you arrived here in this beautiful, almost quaint town.”

“I—“ You began before you stopped, before you stalled.  It wasn't that the memory was hazy, it was still as clear as day. It's what the memory of that rainy day meant. It was a day you had unconsciously chosen to never think about again. It was the day that changed everything. It was the day you almost hit an animal and ended up swerving and hitting your head instead. And two owners of two very different voices took you back home. You knew that wasn't a dream even then. But, why had you never thought about it until now? Why did you feel it was necessary to hide the details of that late night from the boy whose hand tightly gripped down onto your own at this very moment? “It was late. So, I got home and went to sleep.”

He nodded as if in understanding though the statement that followed was anything but, “And there it is. The flaw is hidden in the form of the lie you just told me.”

You shook your head, “It’s not a lie. It’s just a different version of the truth.”

And that’s when that glow in his eyes grew brighter, as though this was what he was waiting for. As though your words were exactly what he wanted to hear. “And if it’s a different version of the truth, is it not a lie? The original truth is the only one which can be considered “true” while any and all modifications and versions of this original truth that branch off of it can only be considered lies. Your version of the truth, your lie which goes against the original truth, the original reality, is the fatal flaw of Springfield. A different version of the original reality is twisted, convoluted, and—“

“Beautiful.” You finished, your voice a whisper as you took his next word right out of his mouth. His thumb swept across the back of your hand, caressing it gently as if out of endearment.

“Complicated.” He corrected with a smile, a smile that felt much realer, much more sincere, than the usual one he naturally displayed, “Everything that is beautiful has its complications.”

Was it that smile of his that got you talking? That got you into the joking mood? That made you focus that much more on him rather than the beautiful landscape around you? “And if I were to name your complication, what do you think it’d be?”

He didn’t even ponder the question, his immediate response being, “That would mean you think I’m beautiful,” as he turned away to take in the view you had long since forgotten about.  

“It’s a hypothetical question.” You reasoned, your eyes trailing down his profile from the bridge of his nose to the curve of his jaw. Everything about him seemed so surreal. So out of place. And yet, so in place at the same time. “Any insinuation you make is your own twist on the original truth.” You threw his words right back at him and the result was the tilt of his head towards you again, his eyes glancing at you from his peripheral through narrowed slits.

“Then enlighten me, dear Alice.” He mocked in return, something you didn’t mind in the least.

“You take much too long to get to the point.”

And that gained a laugh that came springing from his throat so suddenly you flinched, your neck pulling back as it was the last thing you expected from him. Yet, it was a welcomed surprise, one that left the hairs at the back of your neck bristling as you felt yourself relaxing. You were getting used to him. You were getting comfortable with him. Was this a good thing though? For now, you decided you’d stay neutral regarding that question.

“You can’t rush everything, Hyunjoo.” He reasoned, using your real name instead this time. Again, neutrality was what you felt regarding him not using his newly given pet name of Alice for you instead. “What’s that saying? All in due time? Besides,” he gave your hand a light squeeze, that golden glow dancing across his irises for the umpteenth time – and yet, you still didn’t tire of seeing it, “it’d be nice to have you come looking for me again. Perhaps on another day like this one?” It appeared that he was silly to a fault. Though, he appeared to be a lot of things.

“I made a promise to myself that I’d never skip school again.” You said, not looking to break a promise you made to yourself, no matter how curious Cha Hakyeon made you.

“Is that so?” He pouted his lips, as though it were that much of a shame to have made such a promise. But then, he got over it. And again, it seemed as though he got over things quickly. And again, he seemed to be something, not a single sliver of certainty about him revealing itself, “That’s not the first one you’ll be breaking while you’re with me.” What was he insinuating? Why did he always make insinuations? Figuring him out was like trying to solve a Rubik’s cube. Figuring out the secret behind that smile of his only gave you a headache, “Didn’t your mother tell you to never talk to strangers after all?”

“I know you.” You shrugged, turning to the forgotten backdrop in front of you once more as you repeated to him the words that had embedded themselves in your mind since he first said them, “You’re the teenage guy in the library that stares at a girl for an hour just to have her pay the slightest inkling of attention to him.”

His lips parted, as though he were surprised you remembered it. But, then, he added, “You forgot the “creepy” teenage guy part.”

“You’re not creepy.” You felt his eyes on you but you refused to look back. The best way to solve a puzzle was to step away from it for awhile. If you immersed yourself, if you lost too much of yourself in it, then you’d never figure it, or in this case him, out. “You only said that to make me wonder if you were.”

“And did you?”

“I did.” You nodded casually, “I am.”

“And what have you deduced?” He inquired though still you didn’t turn to him. Still, you kept your eyes facing forward, no matter how much you wondered what kind of expression he had on his face right now. Though you had a feeling it would be the usual smirk, a voice in the back of your head told you otherwise.

Whatever his expression, you answered his question, “What I’ve known all along is true. You’re dangerous. And you're-”

And a small whisper slipped from your lips.

And a small smile lit his face in response.

And the unspoken truth was now out in the open.

He hummed, faking that you had impressed him even though he knew you knew that he knew you already knew. Knew what? The obvious truth. The only thing certain about him.

You felt your hand lift upwards once more as he pulled you, as he stringed you along no matter how impassive or resistant you were, “You’re more clever than I thought you’d be.” 

And then, you felt something soft press against the back of your hand. And because you were curious, because you were intuitive, because you were danger-seeking, because you were witty, you glanced towards him. You merely glanced at him as soft tissue melted against your skin to find him standing there, his eyes fluttered closed, his lips pressed against the back of your hand. You yanked away immediately, tucking your hand into your pant's pocket as though he’d be able to get to it again if you didn’t hide it away somewhere. If you didn’t hide your sanity away somewhere.  

The contact had sent impulses of electricity surging through you, the hairs at the back of your neck standing up at attention once again. The electric shocks continued despite the fact that you were out of his reach, despite the fact that all he was doing now was staring at you with those gleaming eyes of his, golden flecks seeming to twinkle admist the bleak black of his irises.

And you were reminded of something you almost nearly forgot as easily as you forgot how beautiful the sight was that spread out in front of you. You forgot that your words were undoubtedly true.

Cha Hakyeon was dangerous.

“Have you ever been in trouble before?” He asked as that same smile lit his features.

You had pulled one off but what lie underneath was yet another one. Yet another distorted mask with features that shocked you. That scared you. That made you all the more willing to never reject him.

A/N:

Wondering what it is you just read? All in due time. 

I have a surprise in store for you all coming soon.

Also, I'd like to thank all of you who commented on my "Who's your vice?" blog post.
Let me love you for taking the time to answer such a difficult question! 
No? Okay...well, you're just going to have to accept it anyway!

Also also, sorry this chapter is so egregiously long. 
Really, I am sorry for that because it took me even longer
because of that to update. 

Also also also, Hakyeon (N) lovers probably loved this chapter, huh?
You're very welcome for that.

Also x4, did you figure out what Hyunjoo realized about Cha Hakyeon?