Boyoung’s mind seems to stay the same. A repetitive system of cross-examination. Why this? Why that? What if this? What if that? Nothing sticks. So, she starts over. Rinse, spin, repeat. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Again, nothing sticks. Nothing makes sense.

“You’re going to miss a step.” Boyoung turns her gaze toward to the voice. Soonyoung stands on the sidewalk in front of her house, juggling his keys, bus pass, jacket, water, and backpack. His hair looking like it’s never seen a brush. To be honest, Boyoung’s not even sure if the word brush is in Soonyoung’s vocabulary not to mention fashion.

Boyoung skips down the rest of the steps, and exits the gated area of her front yard, to stand before Soonyoung as he rearranges everything in his hands. “At least, I’m not constantly loosing stuff like you.” He hums back in acknowledgment as he finally manages to get everything put away—messily—into his backpack and swinging his jacket on. He spares her a smile as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. She smiles back.

“Pumpkin,” Her father’s voice is cold and makes Boyoung straighten up in an instance, and fix her uniform almost immediately. His voice scares her. He scares her. He stands beside his shining brand new company car (a Bentley), briefcase in hand. Cellphone in the other. Overnight pack already in the trunk. He doesn’t look at her. Rather, his piercing gaze is staring down Soonyoung. “Shouldn’t you say goodbye to your father?”

Although stiff, Boyoung reaches up and waves kindly towards him. Muttering a goodbye not loud enough for him to hear. Soonyoung takes the initiative instead; stepping forward and smiling benevolently; though there’s a hint of ire just behind it. “Good morning, sir, it’s been a while since I last saw you,” Boyoung’s father nods as he lays his briefcase a top the passenger seat. “I’d talk more but we have to get to school. Goodbye, sir.”

Soonyoung grabs Boyoung by the hand, pulling her away before her father can say more. “You didn’t have to do that, you know?” He nods but patently ignores answering. Instead continuing to pull her down the sidewalk without a second thought. “He’s probably not going to be home for another week, maybe two…probably a month. I should’ve said something, right? I’m still his daughter. He’s still my father.”

His hand clenches hers tightly as he brings the two to a stop. He glances at her and shakes his head. Hair going every which way. Obviously, not pleased with whatever’s going through his mind. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Especially with him, your dad’s a loser…just like my mom.” They’re silent after that. Boyoung knows when to keep quiet, and whenever Soonyoung brought his mom up…that was the number one sign for it.

Soonyoung and his mom, they’re complicated. She’s overbearing. Constantly telling him to do better. Strive for more, never settle for less. She hates Boyoung. Always called her a child. Said that she holds him back. His mom probably hates all of his friends. Jun and Minghao don’t work hard enough. Chunja can be considered a spoiled brat. And Chan…Chan’s related to her husband. That’s enough to hate him more than Boyoung.

Complicated probably isn’t the best word for their relationship; but, close enough. Soonyoung loves his mother. Just not enough. And Soonyoung’s mother, she probably loves her son. But she loves success more. Complicated. Very complicated.

The school is running rampant when they get there. Students running left. Teachers running right. Flyers are everywhere: on the ground, stuck in between lockers, and slid underneath doors. Soonyoung grabs one that’s peeking out of a bush nearby the entrance where they stand, and lets both him and Boyoung read it. It’s the size of a regular paper, smooth and glossy. Two pictures are aligned at the top vertically. At the bottom is large print text. Boyoung recognizes one photo: the one of Chunja leaving the library buttoning up her shirt. Except her face is blurred along with her blonde hair. The other picture is similar. A girl leaving a teacher’s office, buttoning up her shirt and fixing her skirt; face blurred.

The wall of text is simple: scavenger hunt, anyone? Whoever finds the girls first gets a special prize.

“What the heck?” Soonyoung mutters as he glances over at her.

Boyoung stares at the flyer with furrowed eyebrows and a frown. This didn’t happen in the past. Not the past that she’s from. She’s sure of it. Whatever this is, whatever’s going on. This is new. Scary. And somehow, in some way, she’s managed to change something. She doesn’t know how, or why—and she doesn’t know if this is good or not.

Panic takes over her body.

“God, damn it, Saeran!” She mutters, her fingers crinkling the edges of the flyer.

Soonyoung places a hand on her tense shoulder, “What’s wrong? Do you know something about this?” He gestures to the flyer with a worried expression. Boyoung’s eyes glance everywhere. At everyone. Does she know anything? Or is she just assuming again? Why isn’t anything going the way she wants? “Bo? Bo, look at me.” Soonyoung grabs for her. Both of his hands clenching her shoulders—his fingers inserting themselves into the crevice between her shoulder blades and her clavicle. It hurts but the important thing is, it grabs her attention away from the chaos. Away from her thoughts.

Her eyes focus in on his, watching them flicker across her face. So, worried. So, concerned. She can see it in the way his lips are frowning, the way his eyebrows are pointed downward, the way everything’s stiff. And she can feel it radiating off his body. Repeatedly hitting her like shockwaves. It takes her breath away. No one’s cared for like the way Soonyoung does, not in a long time. She feels like she can almost just fall into it, and let it grasp at her—hold her forever. She wouldn’t mind. She now remembers how much she loved being cared for. And how much she’s craved it since she lost it.

“Bo, are you involved with this?” Soonyoung lowers his voice, and he leans his body down so that they’re gazes are aligned perfectly with one another.

Boyoung drops her gaze. “I really want to tell you,” She whispers. Eyes clenching shut as her fingers tightly hold onto the flyer—nearly ripping it apart. “But, I can’t—you can’t know. Please, just trust me.” Her fingers reach out and wrap around one of his wrists. She squeezes it tight in hopeful comfort, before removing it from her shoulder.

She ducks her head towards her chest, and with the crinkled paper in her hand, she heads off for the cafeteria. He’d be there. Waiting. Not for her. But for someone…anyone. Anyone smart enough to figure out what the flyer meant. Boyoung doesn’t consider herself much of a detective but the only person capable of figuring out who’s behind the pictures, are those that have seen it unblurred, or those that have payed attention for the last few days. A person like Boyoung.

Her feet are damp from the morning rain that had hit the pavement as she enters the cafeteria. The door silently closing behind her. It’s cold, bare, and practically empty. She doesn’t spot the platinum haired boy anywhere. Not near the café line, the tables, or the kitchen. Nowhere. Am I wrong? She thinks to herself, is it someone else who put out the flyers?

Frustrated, she tugs on one of her two neat plaits of braided hair—vainly, she finds herself seeking composure in her appearance to help distract her from the twisting frustration that comes from investigating. Truly, nitpicking and perfecting her appearance keeps her distracted from everything. Her parents, her friends, her unstable mentality—everything.

“What the do you think you’re doing, Jeonghan?” Saeran’s voice is chilling as the sound of glass breaking echoes around the empty building. Boyoung huddles underneath one of the tables beside her, her eyes casting upward toward the loft area where she tends to do most of her spying. The silky pearl cloth over the oak table covers most of her body except for her eyes that peek from underneath it.

No one notices her.

Damn, I’m an everyday Nancy Drew, she thinks to herself.

From her back pocket, she pulls out her phone. After messing around with it—having not used a flip phone in a long time—she turns the video camera on and points it in the direction of the commotion. Evidence.

Saeran, dressed dashingly in his school uniform, has Jeonghan—equally attractive but also looking like a complete mess—pinned against the gray walls a broken glass is sprayed across the floor in front of them and Jeonghan's lip is bleeding. What a mess. Mingyu, the tall boy, idly stands to the side with his brown coat wrapped around his slim body. He looks at the ready to rip Jeonghan to shreds if he makes a move towards Saeran. On the other side, fighting against restraints, is Jisoo—his usual calm composure is now bursting with rage. He fights haphazardly against the boy Boyoung’s yet to meet: Hansol. He seems stoic, but strong, as he keeps the angered boy at bay. Once in a while inserting his knee into the other's chest.

Jeonghan thrashes against Saeran. Pushing. Kicking. Trying to squeeze out of his grip. How did you wind up like this Jeonghan? Boyoung intently stares on. They’re supposed to be working together. Jeonghan and Saeran. They’re supposed to be friends, or something akin to it. So why does it look like Jeonghan despises him and vice-versa? Is she wrong again?

“ you!” The long-haired boy spits.

Saeran pulls Jeonghan’s body forward before smacking it against the wall. His head smashing against it so painfully, that the sound ricochets through the room. Boyoung grimaces. That had to hurt. “I told you, don’t ing mess with me—and what did you do? You told her about me, Wonwoo, and Mingyu, didn’t you? How the else would she know? You think I didn’t notice her being all ing close with you?” Boyoung frowns. Is he talking about her? Does this have to do with what happened in the gym the other day? Her confronting them? It must be. He must think Jeonghan told her something. Possibly everything.

That couldn’t be further from the truth.

Jeonghan begins to thrash against his grip again. But Saeran doesn’t even flinch. Not even when the boy manages to smack his fist against the other’s head. He only twists the boy's fist backward, causing the other to scream out in pain. Jisoo goes wild from his spot as Jeonghan continues to push against Saeran, despite the pain. “I didn’t tell her anything, even if I did—it gives you no right, to do what you’ve done! Thuy has nothing to do with this, you bastard.”

Jisoo scrapes his fingernails against Hansol’s grip, “I’ll ing kill you, you know that?”

“Shut him up!” Saeran snaps—his hardened gaze turning toward Hansol who nods.

Boyoung shivers as the younger boy easily drags a screaming, and punching Jisoo away from the other three. “If she gets hurt, I’ll kill you!” Is the last thing Jisoo yells before the doors to the upper loft, slam close. Boyoung lets out a breath, she didn’t think things would be this intense.

Saeran directs his attention back to Jeonghan. His hands clenching the boy’s collar tightly enough to wrinkle it. “I didn’t want to involve your ,” He abruptly let’s go of Jeonghan’s collar to chuckle at him. Jeonghan who looks so angry he could rip someone’s head off. “But, despite that, it helps us. Chunja’s picture is now being seen by everyone. Soon enough, someone will figure out it’s her—and then, everything will be set in place.” Boyoung’s fists clench, what the hell does he want with Chunja? Why does he want to ruin her so badly?

“What if they figure out its Thuy, hunh?” Jeonghan bites back. It’s almost weird for Boyoung to see Jeonghan look so distraught over the picture of Thuy. She believed that he didn’t care for the girl. Possibly thought she was annoying but this sight of him. Messy haired, angry, and concerned—seems to contradict that. It’s actually nice to know that he has other emotions besides conniving. Makes him more human.

Saeran shrugs as he shoves the boy to the ground, “That’s your problem, not mine.”

“And the girl?” Mingyu interjects, his arms crossing over his chest as he comes to stand beside Saeran. His eyes looking at Jeonghan but his voice directed at the other. “What do we do about her? It already seems like she’s looking into what we’re doing, what’s going to stop her from looking further? Should we scare her? Hurt her, maybe?”

Boyoung blanches as her body stills. What does he mean by hurting her? Mentally? In the way they’ve done with Thuy and Chunja. Or physically? In the way, they’ve done with Jeonghan and Minghao. And why does Mingyu sound so pleased at the notion of hurting her? He even smiles—the corner of his lip turning upward. Psychopath.   

Saeran tightly grips Mingyu’s forearm—bringing his attention away from Jeonghan and onto his leader. Saeran jerks him a few times as he deathly scowls over him. His presence entirely intimidating to both Mingyu, Jeonghan, and even Boyoung—who’s the furthest away. “You don’t touch a single hair on her body, understand? Let her investigate, she doesn’t know a ing thing—and she won’t find anything out. We keep everything through our texts, and face to face communication on the topic to a minimum. Got it?”

“If we scare her, she’ll stop—and we won’t have to worry about it!” Mingyu states.

Saeran shoves the boy to the ground, just as hard—if not harder—then what he previously did with Jeonghan. Mingyu stares up at him appalled, like he’s never hurt him before. “I don’t want her hurt, she may be troublesome—but, she plays a bigger role in this. And I need her to think you want to be her friend. Get close to her—better yet,” Saeran turns his attention to Jeonghan. A smirk lining his features. “Your love for Thuy will have to go on the back burner, I want you to pursue my little gisei, and keep an eye on her for me.”

Boyoung shudders, there’s that name again. Gisei? She’s still yet to look up what it means. Too scared it’ll be something disturbing. What makes it worse is the way he sounds so possessive of her. ‘My little gisei’. It frightens her and brings back crude memories of the years he taunted her after high school. Like she was the most enthralling thing he’d ever come upon. Just boring, little, Boyoung. Why is she so special?

Saran grabs for his satchel off the table, throwing it over his shoulder. “Pay special attention to her relationship with her friends—especially Chunja.” He waves his fingers over his shoulders in a nod to a goodbye, as he leaves out the doors Hansol had dragged Jisoo out of. Jeonghan and Mingyu sit still on the floor. One looking devastated, the other frustrated.

“I don’t get his obsession with that girl.” Mingyu mutters as he picks himself up and dusts himself off. He stares down at Jeonghan who looks like he’s contemplating something in his mind and ignores the other boy’s stare. After, a second, Mingyu sighs and helps Jeonghan up to his feet—even the other looks like he just wants him to leave him alone

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jeonghan mutters, fixing his clothes.

Mingyu’s eyebrows furrow (as does Boyoung), “Isn’t what obvious?” Jeonghan snorts.

“He likes her.”

▰▰▰

Boyoung stands in front of her locker, her textbooks are dropped on the shelf, and her Michael Kors purse is gripped tightly in her hand. She needs coffee. As of now, she doesn’t really care how many classes she’ll have to ditch to do so. After everything that’s gone down, coffee is needed—though, if she was twenty-five again, she’d be having alcohol alongside it. Sadly, in this time zone, she’s not old enough to even think about it.

Sighing, she shuts her locker and locks it with the key.

“Hi, Boyoung,” The girl looks up—practically jumping at the sound of someone speaking. After running out of the cafeteria (soon after Mingyu and Jeonghan left) she’s been fearing the appearance of Jeonghan. But, thanks to her investigation the past few days, she knows exactly where he’ll been and when. Unless he decides he wants to come first hand to the junior building. She shutters at the thought. “How are you?” Her eyes glance over at the extra dose of friendly.

Mina stands there with her feet dancing against the floor and her smile shining brightly. “Just peachy.” Boyoung responds but she knows Mina doesn’t really care.

“That’s good, anyways, I’ve heard from a few friends and they say that Jeonghan told Thuy and Jisoo, he’s going to confess to you! Can you believe it?” Boyoung blanches, her feet bringing itself to begin walking. As if that’ll magically help her get out of the situation she’s stuck in. “I’m so happy for you, Youngie,” Boyoung throws a confused look toward Mina who follows after her extremely excited. “I mean, Thuy obviously isn’t happy but Jisoo seems excited for him—actually, everyone seems really happy. I don’t know what’s so special about you Boyoung, but you’re the first person Jeonghan has ever showed interest in!”

No, I’m not, Boyoung stomach brews with guilt. After hearing everything in the cafeteria, she’s come to the conclusion that if Jeonghan likes anyone, it’s Thuy. And the real reason she doesn’t know anything, is because he wants to keep her safe. Saeran, knowing this, used her against him. Which means, Jeonghan isn’t Saeran’s friend probably not even one of his lackeys. Possibly, Saeran has something on him, or Thuy, that forces him to be a part of the mess. Whatever it is, Boyoung knows that Jeonghan isn’t a willing participant.

“Mina, what do you know about Saeran?” She asks as the two arrive in front of the sliding door leading to the outside of the building. The honey-haired girl stares at her, tilting her head like Saeran was the last person she thought Boyoung would talk about it.

Boyoung understands why. Despite the fact that Saeran is well-known around school, no one really likes him. At least, not in the way they like Jeonghan. And most believe Saeran is a bully that consistently causes trouble across campus. And no one, wants to be involved with him. Better yet, they try their best to avoid him on all basis of the word.

“Um, I mean…when it comes to you and Jeonghan?” The honey-haired girl offers up in slight bewilderment. Boyoung nods, her heart stuttering for a second, trying to catch up with what her brain is processing. Mina’s eyebrows crease in deep thought as her finger taps against her chin, and her body teeters from side to side. “Well, I mean, I haven’t really heard anything but I’m sure I can dig around,” The girl pauses, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered against her face, “If you could give this,” Out of her pink colored backpack, the girl lifts out a clear lunchbox with a red ribbon wrapped around it. “To Wonwoo for me, I’ll totally keep my ears open for everything.”

Boyoung sighs, “I guess, I can do that. Just—yeah—pay attention, I guess.”

“Oh, please, eavesdropping is my favorite subject.” Mina passes the lunchbox to Boyoung, who takes it with a grimace. Gross, someone actually likes Wonwoo. She knows that Mina’s crush on Wonwoo has always been entirely realistic but the thought of actually having to help the relationship is appalling.

“Boyoung!” A hand taps her back, before she can process who it is. She turns to look over at the person. It’s Minghao, his jet-black hair mused from the rain, “I was trying to find you earlier.” When he spots Mina—who etches herself back a little—he frowns. The boy still doesn’t like Boyoung hanging around people like Mina. People who are completely different than their group.

A sharp cold fills her veins as she looks from him to Mina. She hadn’t considered a situation in which he would be close enough to cause trouble to her plan. Not when she’s so close to understanding everything. Not when she’s so close to getting someone near Saeran—or next to someone near him. To understand him and what he wants. What he wants from Chunja, and her, and what he could possibly have on Jeonghan or Thuy.

“Yeah—I just, um, why were you looking for me?” She asks, internally swearing at herself for showing confliction.

He shifts his attention to her, the scowl still on his face. “I was wondering if you wanted to head to class together…but—”

“Don’t you know she has a boyfriend?” Mina asks, in the most patronizing way possible. Contrasting brightly with the kind way she was acting earlier.

Minghao’s mouth falls agape his face looking as if she had just put a knife to his throat. “What?”

Mina nods as she flips her hair over her shoulder and purses her lips in Minghao’s direction. “Jeonghan is asking her out today, and she’s obviously going to say yes! So, stop being so obsessed with her,” She says bluntly. The girl turns toward Boyoung as if she’s her best friend, “Come on, Youngie, I was totally thinking of grabbing a cappuccino from the café, and I have to talk to Li about an assignment.”

Boyoung tries to give Minghao an apologetic look, guilt creeping over her. His face shines with hurt, it’s obvious. She never thought there’d come a day where she’d hurt him—not like this. And those thoughts from when time stops, comes back, and even though she knows it’ll affect her plan—in some way—she twists her grip out of Mina.

“I’ll get this box to Wonwoo, I promise, but,” She glances back at Minghao who stares after her—the hurt still prominent on his face. “I have to get to class.” No matter how much I want that coffee. She pulls away from the girl, and tracks her way back to Minghao—her fingers wrapping around his upper arm after sliding the box into her purse.

Mina stares back awestruck, “Whatever, just know, Jeonghan isn’t going to be happy.”

She walks off, and Boyoung is left with Minghao.

“Are you going to do it?” He asks after a second, his eyes honing in on hers.

Before she can stop herself, her head begins to shake. She’ll do everything she possibly can to not have to date Jeonghan. Maybe, she can figure out how to convince him to be just friends. He’d probably agree, considering Thuy. “No, I don’t like him.”

Minghao nods, “What’s with the lunchbox?”

“It’s for Wonwoo.”

He looks appalled as he turns to stand in front of her—her hand dropping from his arm. “Why the hell would you give him that?” He snatches at her purse—taking it into his arms and refusing to give it back to her. So, childish, she thinks to herself as she watches him pull out the box and stare at it in annoyance and disgust.

Boyoung rolls her eyes, “It’s not from me, it’s from Mina. She likes him.”

“Someone actually likes that freak?” He snorts, passing the box and purse back to her.

Boyoung pats him on the back, “Unfortunately, a lot more than just one person likes him.”

“Girls are weird.”

▰▰▰

Gingerly, Boyoung steps atop the scale in her blue bathroom. The stubborn digital display hovers around a range of values for a few seconds before deciding on today’s number. One and a half pounds higher than yesterday.

She sighs in frustration, it’s probably because she’s been drinking more coffee than usual, and eating more from the school canteen. Staying up late, and constantly spying on others make her consistently in need of caffeine. She can’t afford to slip back up a clothing size—not when all eyes seem to be going towards her after the rumors of Jeonghan. She has to keep up appearances, and fit in. Her stomach looks bloated, and pudgy, bringing with it a wave of insecurity.

A murmur from the hallway distracts her from her thoughts. Slowly, she takes a step closer to the fine cracks at the edge of the bathroom door, wrapping a towel around her body in the process.

“Friday?” She hears her mother say. Her voice is barely audible over the whirring of the bathroom fan. “Jungguk, you know we have dinner with the Lee’s on Thursday night.” There’s a pause, and Boyoung can hear her mother’s footsteps navigate up the halls toward her bedroom, probably putting away freshly folded clothes.

“I don’t understand why you can’t arrange to attend the meeting online, and come home after tomorrow. I swear, you spend more time at work than in your own home, and don’t even get me started on the example it sets for Boyoung—”

Her footsteps accelerate as she walks past the bathroom door again.

“I’m not using her to manipulate you, Jungguk. It’s just…” There’s a sigh and a light thud as she closes the door. When she speaks again, her voice is even more difficult to decipher. “I miss you. It’s so lonely here, and every night I’m just…so alone.”

Boyoung’s breath hitches in as a hollowness opens deep within her chest. Her fingers curl into fists around the towel as she hears the unmistakable sound of a muffled sob. As silence prevails, Boyoung can only assume the phone call had ended.

Sometimes I really hate this damn house.

She pulls on her pajamas and heads inside her bedroom without make noise. Her mom deserves peace and quiet. And she hopes her father could just disappear or become the man her mom deserves.

Just after she closes her bedroom door, she’s wrapped into a tight hug. She doesn’t have to think too hard to know it’s Soonyoung. From the brown fringe that hangs over her head, to the smell of citrus, and a gray hoodie. “Did you hear it all?” She asks as her hands come up to squeeze at his back. He nods as he holds her tighter.

“I wish you told me sooner,” His voice is close to her ear when he finally speaks. “How could you deal with this alone, Bo? I was right here, I was always here—no matter what, always tell me. Because I''ll always be here for you. Always.” His hand reaches up to her hair. To comfort her. She practically melts. Sometimes it feels so nice to be taken care of. And yet so foreign.

Boyoung hesitates, “I was scared.”

And she still is.