Realization returned inside her, like someone downing a bucket of water on her head, the instant the globe dropped from her palm. Realization of her situation, her actions, and what will follow after

Thud

Was that a crinkle of glass she heard? Minho would definitely have heard that.

What are you doing? More importantly, why are you doing this? What is this accomplishing? What were on, woman? Those eyes… I don’t want them looking at me. Not them and, more so, not him. And it.

But stare at her they did, along with him. Krystal could feel the fiery glare from her left side, and she dared not look. And everyone else's stare contained horror and wariness. Why? Because they're scared of what Minho will do, glaring at the stupid girl like that. No no please don't stare. Just return to your normal lunch behavior and talk about your plans for Christmas vacation, what you'll buy, anything. And you! If you like it so much, run back down and check up on your beloved snowglobe and STOP STARING AT ME. And it? It was already down there broken, it cannot see. But did she feel an extra gaze from below? Yes, she did. And was it, if it could be, glaring? No, it was quite the opposite from that. It felt like... joy. Or a truimphant look. A look that meant "I've achieved something!"

You're going crazy.

Krystal hated being in situations like these, if she ever was in them before. She'd be in the center of attention, and they'd all laugh at her. But this is worse. They were staring at her.

And the silence. The stares and the silence given to her like an unwanted present. Except for laughter but where did that come from? Down there. No one else heard it, and Krystal wasn't even sure she heard it. It didn't go like "Ha ha ha" or anything that Krystal can choose letters to match. It just rung for a moment in her head and

I'm going crazy.

Krystal immediately out and fell down the stairs.

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Stupid ! I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna throw you off the edge and let's see how if feels to have your head cracked!

She looked so stupid, standing there with her palm outstretched with that blank look on her face, as if she had no remorse. You should feel all the remorse in the world cause if not, you are more than dead to me!

How could Minho have ever dated her, thinking that she was so pretty? You could read the spite all over her face. Why couldn't he have someone better?

He could hear the sobs that were called out directing to him, excluding everyone else. It was calling out his name, faintly. Anguish filled in him, next to rage. Minho wished he could help it. It was probably spilling out the liquid that filled it's dome and shattered it's glass skin.

Never again will he hold it. It's all because of her.

Fall down, you . Fall down and please crack your head, while you're at it.

He smiled as he could feel the snowglobe healing itself. Then, his smile froze in place as Krystal toppled over the side of the stairs, like a flopping fish. Everyone from the cafeteria gasped, while Minho just stood there lips fixed in a smile yet his mind in horror.

What did you do? What did I do, what did that do?

Taemin ran over to her body before she even landed. He turned his head to stare at me, and his stare spoke an accusation. It said, "Why are you just standing there and acting like this is her fault and smiling like that? You're not gonna help her cause she destroyed your ball, is that it?"

It was true, he was still "smiling", althought the corners of his mouth sagged, turning his expression into an unpleasant one. Those stares... they turned to him now, and he didn't like it. Worst of all, he felt that the snowglobe has betrayed him. Or maybe it felt hurt that it had not come to him when it was injured?

The lunchroom had returned to it's normal behavior, although there were some who exchanged looks with him. Taemin had sent for the nurse, and they were both gone. As for Minho himself, he stayed on the upper floor, never going back down to tend to his glass globe til the end of the luch period when everyone had gone. Wondering what the heck was wrong with him. Never forgetting those stares.

I'm going crazy.

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Yeah, sorry for the super long hiatus. Responsibility's a burden, huh? I feel like I'm borrowing a bit too much from Stephen King's writing style. Oh well, good writers borrow but great writers steal. Or at least I heard something like that.

Comments needed please! I want to know what you think.