T W O

The halls were crowded with people, and the chaos was so perfect, like a movie. There was the couple that was always making out on the left side of the hall, and about ten feet farther down, the cliquey girls. Opposite to them, the cliquey jocks, and between them, the parade of band geeks with their huge instrument cases. There were the aerospace tech kids who never did anything but make paper airplanes and the fashion kids that wheeled mannequins and clothing racks down the halls. And then there was me, not that I fit into any of those groups.

As I get closer to Class F, the halls are dressed in black and white and the tiles are a checker board with humans as the pieces. The whole building sends a chill down my spine and reminds me of something out of my nightmares. I do not want to be here, I think and I wrap my arms around my chilled body; this is the last place I want to be. Unfortunately it is my fault I’m here, my doing, there is no going back now. Hesitantly I walk up to the door with the small twenty-one nailed above it, checking the paper in my hand as I do. This is it, this is where my actions have leads me, I slowly open the door, which lets out a tired old groan as the hinges protest.
 

Laughter sounds along the halls, joined with excited conversations and shouts. Model worthy girls perch on the tables like exotic birds gossiping and giggling, a football fly’s above their heads between two jocks in varsity jackets parading their toned muscles. Groups of high schoolers sit around the room laughing and causing all kinds of ruckus, all except one group that sit silently staring at laptop screens with massive headphones which appear to be permanently strapped to their heads. A breath of air brushes my ear; I follow the breeze and see a blue striped paper plane gracefully gliding through the air before sliding across the tiled hall to stop with its nose against the wall.

“Hey!” Someone tapped on my shoulder. I jumped out of surprise of the sudden greeting and as expected, it was Sehun.

Oh Sehun was my best friend ever since we’re in junior high school, or should I say my only true friend in school until now. He was always there through my thick and thin, and I wondered what made him decided to stay with me, as my friend for such a long time.

When the pressure of my day is inside me, not like a tangled knot but like a ticking bomb, I need to let it explode somewhere safe. I need to go somewhere it can't do lasting damage - and that's why I have Sehun. That's why he has me.

When I need to vent I call him up and he knows what's coming. It isn't an exchange, well, not in the same session. I get to yell my in' lungs out and be a vengeful, crass, arse-hole of fury and he sips his hot choco and nods in the right places. Only when I pick up my cup does he ask me if I'm ready for his perspective and if I am I'll keep drinking, otherwise the shouting starts again.

His job is to tell me how he thinks the other side likely felt in my stories, what fears and insecurities may have motivated them, tone me down rather than egg me on. Then I can go back home and talk things through.

Sometimes Sehun is right, sometimes he's way off, but I can't talk to my brother when I need to explode, he doesn't deserve that. Sehun's just the same, he calls me, I go. He vents, I listen. Maybe that's why I'm still happily living high school life and Sehun is too.

I don't know. It works for us. We don't gossip, no-one knows his secrets or mine. Sometimes just getting that rage out is the best thing we can do. It probably comes mostly from school anyway, but I can't go yelling at the teacher now can I? Especially when both of us are in Class F. They would never listen to us and would just give us detention for acting as a hindrance to the school activities.

            “Why aren’t you entering?” I realized that I was standing on the door, blocking the way for people to go in and out from the classroom.

            “Right.” I snapped my fingers as I snapped my senses back to reality,