SHININGHANSOL_

The credits started rolling and the curtains fell, signaling the end.

Byul doesn’t know what exactly ended, but she felt the dread in the pit of her stomach, where all the nasty little things generate — not her diaphragm, mind you. Maybe it was the end of the world, maybe it was the end of her shattered pride, or maybe it was the end of her straight A’s — oh God, anything but that. She abruptly sat up, eyes wide open, her over grown lilac bangs falling to hinder her eye sight.

“Great, Byul, just great,” she sensed the tremendous amount of sarcasm dripping from Hansol’s tone. The so-called Leonardo di Caprio of her batch as well as her good old partner in crime since 5th grade but “when?” was not the correct question to ask, rather it was a big fat “how?” even Byul herself ponders about it whenever her time was consumed with his presence, which was close to all the ing time.

But this wasn’t the right time to worry about that. She needs to make that reaction paper without making it too obvious that she snoozed during the second half of the film.

Her reverie was cut short when an obnoxious laughter came from her left and she exerted great effort to kick Hansol by his shins — she failed, by the way, and the boy wasn’t expecting that. Nope. Definitely not.

“God dammit, Hansol!” she yelled, standing up to shove her friend as she passed. “Stop laughing! It’s not funny!”

She needn’t to look over her shoulder to know he was tailing her. Although his laughter toned down, she can still hear a few giggles every five seconds that was fueling her mode. “For you,” Hansol stated, not bothering to hasten his phase to catch up. “This is such a comedic scene for me.”

“Urgh, I hate you and your long legs.” Byul had to jog just so