Jumie tried to hold on to her last tread of calmness but it was to no avail, as her body shook, and a small tear escaped from her right eye, drawing a transparent drop on the flooring of the moving train. She stared at the spot with her eyes brimmed with crystal clear tears. Her slender fingers were clutching to the garment of her clothes as she attempted to control her breathing.

Her classmates made fun of her again. Even though she should not waste her time, the pain was still hard to get rid of.

She suddenly drew in a sharp breath, terrified when she felt a jacket being thrown on her head. Looking up in a mix of horror curiosity, she searched for the assaulter. If it wasn't for the half-empty train, she might not notice a boy leaving the train in relaxed manner. Suspecting him as the jacket guy, she followed after him, but before she could reach him, the door had slid shut, separating them.

The girl pressed her hand against the plastic window, trying to see his face but the boy had his back at her. Yet she could still remember every detail of his back view. The train then sped away, increasing the distance between the two youngsters.

Jumie rested her back against the wall, bringing the worn-out jacket to her face, drying her welled up eyes.

It took a few years for her to comprehend the guy's real attention.

Jang Jumie found herself waking up on the couch again but this time in her working disguise and make up. Propping up on her elbows, she grunted as she felt her back ached from sleeping on the limited space the couch had provided. As she swung her legs from the armrest, a black sweater fell from her lap, causing the girl to stare at it in surprise before picking it up.

It had been two years since her strange encounter with the jacket boy but she was still—what's-the-word—disturbed by it. She held her hand up guiltily, admitting that she was the first one to suspect him unnecessarily when he did nothing but discreetly comforted her.

At least that was what she assumed.

Shaking the drowsiness out of her eyes, she sat up and squinted around the empty apartment, finding her usual prepared breakfast on the small wooden table, which was literally their dinning table. Unfazed, she proceeded towards the bathroom, knowing full well that her grandmother had cooked it, and the old lady was already at her workplace.

Looking at her reflection on the mirror, she admitted that she looked ghostlike horrible. Adding the smudged eyeliner mess to her natural eyebags and sticky long black hair, she wouldn't be surprised if people start to run away from her if they find her in that state. But...on the brighter side, it looked kinda cool. At least for Jang Jumie. She looked so mysterious like most of her favorite dark creatures that she had to suppress her giggles.

And her hair....she pinched a few black strands, frowning in dissatisfaction at the unattractive scent. “Shower," she told her reflection in a firm tone, narrowing her eyes when a feeling of laziness started to hit her as she dragged herself to the shower. "Bad."

After washing up and getting ready, she looked through her school schedule while eating her breakfast. She was in charge of sweeping her homeroom class that day like every other Daegu High student. The school had a policy of handing responsibilities towards the students, whether it was from cleaning or tutoring the ones in need. After stuffing with last bits of food, she left the house early.

The streets were void of any living soul, enough to give goosebumps for girls around Jumie's age. But for Jumie's case, she was different. She was unruffled by the quiet morning and for a plus; she didn't have to use the shortcuts like any other day.

Why? Well, let's just say that kindergarteners and kids weren't that fond her.

Jumie passed through the opened school gate, finding the school caretaker was nowhere in sight. After chaining her bicycle under the shades, she headed for the homeroom class, and there she noted the slightly ajar gymnasium door. It wasn't a strange thing because she always found it open early everyday but it had never crossed her mind to take a peek. She looked around, making sure no one was around before she tiptoed into the school gym, craning her neck to steal a look of whoever it was in there.

Jumie had yet to see the school gym so dark and quiet but it was still amazing to see a different side of it. It was almost silent, except for the sound of bouncing ball and friction of shoes against the linoleum, which reflected against the bare wall. Jumie hid in the shadow and saw a strawberry blonde boy, down at the basketball court dribbling the ball towards the net. He had his school shirt untucked although he was obligated to, especially for an important position in the school council.

She heard somewhere before that Min Yoongi, the school body president, was an ace at basketball but no one actually watched him play. Therefore she felt somewhat honoured to be the only one lucky enough to watch him play.

He was really good at it. The way he threw the ball around and competing against an imaginary opponent was enough to tell her that he was passionate at playing basketball. Entranced by his ball tricks, she moved forward but unfortunately stubbed her toes against a metal railing, sending it vibrate from the impact.

"Who's there?"

Swallowing down her cry of pain, she hopped on one foot and leaned towards the exit since she wasn't that excited at being caught by that president with his infamous deadpanned look. There was something about the guy that made Jang Jumie want to shrink away whenever he glanced at her way. Not that it happened a lot since she wasn't a sight to look at.

Jumie made her way towards the door when a brown haired boy swung it open, not noticing her until he looked up and saw her. Startled, he yelped and clutched his chest in attempt to calm his easily frightened heart.

"You scared me!" The boy gasped.

Jumie nod vigorously in apology and hopped away before he could recognize her face. Wouldn't want him to report her to the strict president.

"Hello?" Yoongi repeated. He heard the sound of the door closing before seeing Park Jimin making his appearance, glancing at his back.

"Oh, it's you." Yoongi turned away, continued dribbling the ball.

"Hyung, a girl left just now," Jimin hooked a thumb behind him, tilting his head in confusion. "Do you know her?"

"What girl?" Yoongi arched his eyebrows in faked curiosity.

Jimin sighed. "Why am I not surprised? You obviously have too much in that head of yours as usual."

"Whatever," Yoongi tossed the ball at the net, watching it as it rolled around the metal ring before dropping into the hole with a whoosh.

"Hyung?" Jimin called nervously.

Oh. Something smelled suspicious from the amount of fear in the younger boy's voice. Yoongi paused in the middle of showing off some moves and send a sceptical look at the restless boy. “What?"

"Just to let you know," Jimin let out a shaky laugh, wanting to lighten the situation but failed when Yoongi stayed expressionless. Maybe saying it in one breath might help.

"Namjoonhyungalreadybookedthe ticketsforthethreeofus."

"What?" Yoongi gave him a glare.

He heard it, alright.

"It's not my fault!" Jimin squeaked, wanting the older's glare to be directed somewhere else. "He said that you need it since you're so grouchy these days."

"That kid," Yoongi sent the ball bouncing angrily. "He is seriously going to get it. Where is he right now?"

"Hiding." Jimin held his hands up in utter surrender, giving up at once if Yoongi was going to prey on him. The junior was used to Namjoon's same methods at ticking Yoongi's head off. But if he were him, he wouldn't want to annoy the oldest one between them.

"Smart move." Yoongi regarded, grabbing the blazer and the backpack he hung at the corner of the court.

In all honesty, he wasn't angry at Namjoon nor Jimin. Namjoon bound to intervene into his business whenever he sensed something wrong about his best friend, and Yoongi couldn't possibly be mad at Jimin for whatever reason there was. Even if he was angry, he couldn’t stay that way forever.

Yoongi glanced down at his watch, making sure that he wasn't late for any formal duty, because the students had a tendency of ranting out his faults towards the principal, and if she chose to consider their complaints, he'd probably find himself endured through his parent's lecture.

And he was sure that he wouldn't hear the end of it until graduation.