10

“Which part of me not wanting to be associated with you did you not get?” Hara hisses, trying to pull her wrist free of Jungkook’s vice grip. He barely offers her an annoyed look over his shoulder. 

Students are looking at them with surprise all over their faces. 

Apparently, Jungkook is a big deal in this college, even some of the professors stop in their tracks to greet him only to frown at the commotion. He just gives them curt but respectful nods and pulls Hara along to what she soon realizes is the administration services. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Kwon,” Jungkook greets, letting go of Hara’s wrist and ignoring her low curse thrown at him. “I have been tasked with helping Kim Hara, the new student. Do you have information about her locker and class schedules?” 

The woman sitting behind the desk blinks in realization and grins widely. “Of course, Jeon-ssi! Just a moment.” 

She turns around and leaves to pick out Hara’s file from the backroom, and Hara takes that as an opportunity to glare up at Jungkook. 

“I could murder you right now, you know that?” 

“Good luck with that,” Jungkook replies, not even looking at her, and Hara angrily crosses her arms over her chest. Mrs. Kwon returns and fixes the glasses perched atop her head before handing over a thin file. 

“All the information pertaining to her classes, books and locker combinations are in here. Good luck, Jeon-ssi!” 

“Thank you.” Jungkook politely bows before turning on his heel, and Hara offers the woman a curt nod and follows Jungkook out of the office. 

“Give me the file,” she says, jogging up to him, but Jungkook doesn’t stop walking. “Hey, nuthead, give me my file.” 

Jungkook opens the file but instead of handing it over he starts going through it. Hara ignores the looks she’s receiving and tries snatching the file out of Jungkook’s hands but he swiftly dodges her and continues walking. 

“Your classes are identical to mine,” he says eventually, coming to a halt in front of what seems to be the library. Hara pants and gives him an annoyed glare when she catches up with him. “Your locker combinations are the same, I guess they decided to be merciful and spare your puny brain taxing work. Here.”

He finally hands it over and Hara rips it out of his hands, ignoring the eyeroll she receives as she starts skimming through the paper. Her locker combinations are the same numbers, as he claimed, but she frowns and arches an eyebrow.

“Why are they plural?”

“Wardrobe, swimming hall and main lockers.” Hara purses her lips and nods, mentally wondering why some people are as privileged as they are. 

She goes through her class schedule and groans at the sight of multiple early classes, but she dutifully finishes reading everything and then snaps it shut, wordlessly tucking it away in her coat pocket. 

Jungkook has got his hands in his pockets, a bored look on his face. Hara decides he doesn’t deserve any gratitude for his half-assed help and swiftly turns on her heel, quickly moving away from him. 

“Is she the chocolate-girl? The one who tried to spill her drink on Sunny?” 

“What even is that coat? Probably a hand-me-down.”

“From whom? Her great grandmother?” 

“What is she doing with Jungkook? Have they forced him into this?”

Hara ignores the annoyingly loud whispers and keeps her head high, walking away from the commotion as quickly as she can. But luck has never been on her side, and she sees Sunny and her little gang conspiring amongst themselves at the end of the hallway. 

Deciding that she has dealt with enough bull for the day, Hara quickly turns down the corner and enters an emergency stairwell, wordlessly jogging up in hopes of getting as far away as she can from the attention. 

She makes it up to a glass door and sighs in relief when she sees the wide expanse of a rooftop. The air is cold, but somehow the sunshine is warmer up here than the atmosphere inside the building below, and she drags in a deep breath when the door closes behind her. 

“What the absolute have I gotten myself into?” 

"Excuse you?” Hara shrieks and jumps, turning to her right where the voice had come from. 

A couple of feet away from her, leaning against the railing is a boy clad in a uniform, his eyes narrowed in confusion but also suspicion, and Hara blinks in surprise when she realizes the smoke coming out of his mouth isn’t due to the cold but because of the white stick perched between his slim fingers. 

Interesting.

“Who the hell are you?” the boy asks, and Hara is a little baffled at his choice of words. As far as she’s concerned, the students here don't really use slurs. 

“Are you smoking?” she asks instead of replying, and the boy narrows his eyes even more. 

Hara actually feels a little intimidated, but she decides she needs a distraction and slowly walks over to him. 

“It clearly says no smoking on that sign over there.” She points over her shoulder at the big sign plastered to the granite wall next to the exit, an eyebrow arched. The boy scoffs. “You wanna be expelled or something?” 

“Smoking won’t be the only reason I’ll get expelled,” he mutters, taking a deep drag of the cigarette, and Hara tries to conjure up other reasons for him to be thrown out.

Bad grades? If he attends this college, he can definitely afford a paid grade or two.

Hara keeps a good distance between them before leaning against the railing. They’ve got a great view of the campus and the roads stretching as far as the eye can go, and Hara bitterly wonders if these people even know what a pothole is. 

“So, you new or what?” 

Hara looks over at the boy when he breaks the surprisingly comfortable silence that had settled and nods. “Yeah, unfortunately. Why, you got some unwarranted comments to offer?”

He looks at her for a moment, eyes taking in Hara’s outfit and posture, and she feels a little insecure for a second but then decides she might as well take the opportunity and get a good load of him as well. 

His hair is messy and pitch black, almost artificially dark, and the top buttons of his shirt are loosened. His uniform blazer is lazily thrown over the railing, dangerously close to sliding off and falling down multiple stories to the ground, and Hara suppresses the urge to pull it closer. 

“Where are you from?” 

“Why does it matter?” Hara arches an eyebrow. “I’m stuck here anyways.”

“You don’t look like the rest,” the boy offers as explanation, and Hara scoffs. 

“What gave it away?” 

He doesn’t reply, instead looks over the sight before them while blowing out a thick fog of smoke, but Hara is sure there is a trace of amusement in the lazy pull to his lips.

She decides she tolerates him and stays. 

It is surprising how long they just stand there, quietly taking in the chill morning air and the faint chirping of birds. 

Hara vaguely wonders if the birds are paid to tone down their noises so the students can concentrate to their best abilities. She then wonders if the students even bother concentrating on schoolwork when their rich blood can buy them into any companies they want without proper education. 

“Don’t you have classes to attend?” Hara looks over at the boy. He’s on his third cigarette. “You can’t exactly afford to miss out, especially not you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hara asks, frowning. She feels a small bubble of discomfort in her belly, thinking that maybe this dude isn’t as different from the rest as she thought.

“It means,” he says, dragging in a final lungful of smoke before gently blowing it out, directly in Hara’s direction, “that if you're gonna let them treat you like , you should at least show them why you got here to begin with.” 

Hara is even more confused by his reply, and she’s about to ask for a proper explanation when the boy crushes the of the cigarette against the railing before flicking it off the rooftop. 

“I guess I’ll see you around.” He reaches for the blazer and lazily throws it over one shoulder before moving in the direction of the exit. 

Hara quietly watches him leave and when the door clicks shut after him she frowns and wonders what he meant. She can still smell the faint scent of smoke surrounding her and she finds it calms her down more than she would like to admit. 

Maybe that’s why he smokes, she thinks, but then wonders what exactly has got him, a rich and privileged snob, stressing to the point of relying on nicotine for relief.