“If you had to chose between saving your life by killing someone, or dying and not killing that person, what would you do?”

I stared at him over my books. “Jongin, that’s a stupid question. When in the world would I ever be in a situation like that?” I stared at him, and decided to rephrase my sentence? “Have you ever?”

He looked on the verge of saying something, but in the end, shook his head. “No,” he mumbled under his breath -- and for some reason, looking very much frustrated.

Chapter 2

When I was in elementary school, I thought that chemistry class consisted of mixing weird coloured liquids together, pouring them into a vial, and watching them explode.

However, when I actually started taking chemistry, it successfully dampened my expectations. The only times we actually mixed weird coloured liquids together (and their colours were barely out of the ordinary) were when we had labs, and even so, nothing blew up. And that pretty much happened twice a year. The other remaining classes were taken sitting in a classroom, taking notes, all the while trying not to fall asleep. That pretty much summed up my daily school life.

Jongin, being the only friend I had in the school (it was kind of ironic. The only friend I had happened to be Kim freaking Jongin, who everyone wanted to be friends with) was the only reason I hadn’t dropped out. He was quite an awkward person, and even if he always had to bring me my homework when I was sick, he was more than a passably nice person inside -- at least, I believed. Not to mention he wasn’t bad looking (was that an understatement? A big one?).

He didn’t really talk much, gave short answers when people tried to start a conversation with him, and half the school weren’t quite able to figure him out.

There had been rumours, once upon a time, where people strongly believed that we were dating -- but the day after they started, everyone seemed to have mysteriously forgotten about it. Whatever happened, I was grateful. I didn’t dwell on it -- because Jongin, apart from friendship, showed no interest in me whatsoever. And I was determined to do the same.

Mysterious, however, wasn’t a word to sum up my life. Mundane, maybe. But that was all. It was the same routine -- school, home, internet, eat, sleep. Throw in lying-in-bed-all-day-sick about twice a month, and there was my life. It made me wonder at times what point there was in living. Maybe I was lonely -- my brother was normally busy, and my dad had died when I was two and my mom when I was eight -- but I didn’t really remember much of them anyways. After living at my aunt’s house for a little over three years, I had moved in with Jinyoung, who was then old enough to be a legal guardian.

Then back to the topic of chemistry.

I absolutely hated the class. Not only was the teacher, Mr. Lim, completely intolerant to any slacking in class, but I was extremely forgetful and there had been more than once that I had left my textbook at home or in my locker. Today happened to be one of the days, and as I trudged towards the class, I could picture the blue and white covered book lying on my desk at home. I shuddered at the thought of having to face Mr. Lim.

Too lost in thought, I was half blind to where I was going (that, and I had no sense of direction whatsoever), and before I knew it, I had slammed into somebody.

“Ouch,” I mumbled, just before I stumbled over.

An arm caught me before I could completely hit the ground, though my textbooks dropped to the floor with a crash. Jongin stood over me, a slightly disapproving frown on his face as he looked down on me. Again, I tried to ignore the fact that he was almost a foot taller than I was, but it was impossible to overlook. It was kind of depressing, I recalled, that Jinyoung had told me that I was pretty much the age where I wouldn’t be growing any taller.

“You’re clumsy,” Jongin stated a matter-of-factly, and a couple heads turned towards him. He ignored. “And you fall over way too easily.”

“I’m light,” I groaned, bending over to retrieve my fallen books. “It doesn’t help that you plowed into me full force!”

“Exaggeration,” he replied in a deadpan voice. “Hurry up, or we’ll be late for class.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” I mumbled. “It’s Lim. I’d rather not hurry.”

Jongin raised an eyebrow, but other than that, didn’t say anything more.

***

“Class dismissed.”

The only thought that had kept me from dying in class was Jongin’s last comment, Imagine Lim teaching a kindergarten class, but if it weren’t for that, I would’ve already melted into a puddle on the floor. When I meekly asked Mr. Lim if I could share a textbook with the girl beside me because I had forgotten mine, he looked like he wanted to pulverize me. In fact, I had been wishing class would never end so I wouldn’t have to suffer through the lecture he was going to give when it did end. Which happened to be now.

As the class filed out, I tried to blend into the group of students so I could leave without being caught. I could swear I was less than five steps to the door when the heavy footsteps of Mr. Lim shattered my hopes. Heavy footsteps, a small part of my brain whispered to me. Since when was someone’s footsteps this… weightful? The trepidation, however, pushed the thought to the back of my mind.

“Mira, please stay,” his voice cut through, and I froze mid-step.

“Okay,” I squeaked, voice a good octave above normal. Jongin stopped short, and narrowed his eyes at the teacher, and I did a double take. Jongin was normally emotionless to teachers -- what was he doing now? -- he looked like he was scrutinizing the chemistry teacher -- not just looking at. Mr. Lim met his stare unwaveringly, scanning the boy from head to toe, before folding his arms across his chest.

“Well?” he asked, irritation unmasked over his face. “I need to talk to Ms. Jeon here alone. Please step outside, Kim Jongin.”

In a flash, the look had disappeared from Jongin’s face. He bowed politely, face betraying nothing. “Yes sir,” he replied, before stepping outside the door.

He left the door open just a crack, and I stood in my spot, staring at the ground.

“Well?” Lim asked. There was a cold indifference in his voice that made the situation a lot more scarier than it should’ve been. He seemed to be practicing the art of boring holes through me with his eyes, and so far, it was succeeding. The thought that this could’ve all been avoided if I had brought my textbook was quite a depressing one, I realized dejectedly. If I had enough memory to put the stupid book into my backpack. “That’s the fourth time this year, Mira.”

“Um. I’m sorry, sir.”