Ever since we are old enough to stop crying in order to be fed or have our diapers changed, we’ve been taught to recognize that some things, actions and thoughts are wrong, and that they will effectively cause problems that we could have easily avoided. But being humans, we still go ahead and do them anyway because we can’t help it.

We’re simply too stubborn to listen to the advices and voices in our heads.

Either that or we’re just plain stupid.

And when something bad happens, we find us blaming everything but ourselves.

✖ ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖

My stomach twists painfully in the pit of my abdomen.

I shouldn’t have run.

The nagging voice of my mother telling me how harmful vigorous exercises straight after meals are reverberated at the back of my head.

And since I was on the trek down the lane of ‘things I shouldn’t have done’, I decided with a wry grin that I shouldn’t have eaten that piece of chocolate cake too.

Especially after that hefty meal of dolsot bibimbap.

Right now, I can feel the chunks of food rising up my gullet, threatening to push their way through the barriers of my lips as I gulp at the unpleasant sensation and force the food back down into my gut.

Disgusting.

I lean my heated back against the cool wall of the quiet corridor and let my bag fall from my shoulders and onto the marble floor with a dull thud. My breaths are coming in short spurts right now as I try to shake the lightheadedness from blurring my senses.

The cool chill of the air-conditioning stings my heated skin. I had been rushing the whole three blocks down the avenue under the relentless summer Sun before I finally had the sense to stop and hop onto a cab to take me where I am right now. I could barely tell the cab driver my desired address without having ugly sobs wrenching forth from my lips. If I hadn’t controlled myself, I had a feeling he would have driven me to the nearest mental hospital after strapping me down in the seat with the seatbelts.

The words being said in the upscale restaurant that Taeyoung and I were at are still running endless circles around my head. It’s as if I’ve lost the ability to comprehend anything. The words, phrases and numbers are just mere figures and letters that make no sense at all.

I can’t think.

I dislike that.

The pounding in my head continues nevertheless.

My eyes slip shut and my hands clench tightly by my side as I try to fend off the overwhelming load of sensations and thoughts that are enveloping me in a suffocating vice.

Apart from the pop tunes playing over the system at a low volume, the corridor is empty.

I am alone, and my exhausted self relish in that fact.

I’ve always liked being alone. I enjoy the peaceful silence being by myself brings. In this world, there are two groups of people – there are the people that enjoy being around others, and the people that enjoy being all by themselves.

I am a loyal member of the latter category.

It’s not that I hate people per se. I don’t hate people unless they give me a legit reason for me to really, absolutely dislike them.

I just don’t go out of my way to be close to others. Sure, I’ve got friends. I mean, it’s virtually impossible for one to go about their daily lives without meeting people and forming friendships with them.

I’ve got a couple of friends and one best friend, and that’s more than enough for me. I’ve never understood the idea of having large social circles. Those things only cause more trouble.

The nauseous feeling in my gut dies down a little after awhile, enough for me to bend down for my cellphone without feeling like I’m about to hurl at the slightest movement. It’s when I am pulling the slim device from the zipper on the front of my bag that another thought struck me.

My luggage.

Oh no.

I left it behind in my impulsive haste to flee from the restaurant.

My thumb hovers over the two names saved under my favourite contacts list. One name is the one I’m running away from, while the other is the one I’m running towards.

The rolling of my gut returns and I blanch, holding a trembling hand against my stomach. A creeping chill seeps from my temples and spreads to the back of my head quickly, causing me to stagger and hold onto the wall for support.

Please, not now.

In my midst to calm my turning stomach and the insistent buzzing in my ears, I fail to notice the lone figure that had appeared on the other end of the corridor.

That is, until a dark shadow looms over my crouched figure.

“Yehyun-ssi?”

I look up at the sudden appearance of the shadow and the uncertain call of my name as my eyes are greeted by a pair of long legs clad in a pair of dark denim jeans. I raise my heavy head and let my eyes rove up the lanky form, before stopping on the pair of familiar almond shaped brown eyes.

I blinked twice to clear my head and move to stand up slowly with the help of the wall as my support when a pair of hands holds onto my arm gingerly.

I shake the hands off and bend my body forward in a bow that was enough to show respect and not too much such that I’ll fall over and plant my face into the marble floor.

“Hello.”

Kris returns the greeting, although his was more of a curt nod of his head and an awkward folding of his body. His eyes study me intently and I feel exposed under his penetrating gaze.

I fidget uncomfortably.

“Are you… okay?” he asks hesitantly when his eyes finally stops on my face. The dark brown orbs peers into my own eyes with what I think is concern, which only cause my confusion at the situation to deepen.

I nod in response, even though the mere action worsens the violent turning of my stomach. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

He nods as well and turns towards the door near where I’m leaning. “Are you waiting for Naram noona?”

Even though his accent makes his words a little hard to understand, his grasp on the Korean language is pretty well managed, as compared to Tao. I could hardly understand that boy when he spoke to me in Korean. One of the reasons why Aunt Naram had offered me the opportunity to tag along with her to China was due to my ability to speak Chinese. I’ve always been interested in the Chinese Fine Arts, and had always yearned to work in one of the museums there, which was why I took mandarin as an extra elective in my first and second year.

There’s a translator hired for their promotional activities, but there will be times where she couldn’t be present, and so, I was meant to step in and bridge the communication between the non-mandarin speaking crew and the Chinese EXO-M members, besides helping Aunt Naram steam iron the band’s costumes or dressing them for their fansigning and television appearances.

“Yes.” I reply. My tongue feels papery in my dry mouth.

“I think she’s still putting away all our costumes. It’ll be a while before she’s back.” He notes.

“Alright.” I mutter and pretend what he’s telling me hasn’t already being said to me by my aunt herself and begs desperately for him to leave.

Kris doesn’t leave, though.

Instead, he remains rooted in his spot. His sharp eyes travel along the length of the corridor before trailing down the opposite wall and sliding to the ground.

His large, hands twitched by his side.

I watch as he does this. I don’t know why, but it’s weird… and sort of interesting. It’s like you’re watching something that annoys you that you can’t help but continue staring at.

My eyes study him as I try to find a reason as to why he’s still here. Shouldn’t he be on his way? Why is he even talking to me in the first place?

I think him telling me where Aunt Naram was, was the most I’ve heard him say to me directly.

Don’t get me wrong, Kris and I… we’re not enemies or rivals or whatever. We’ve got nothing against each other. Absolutely nothing.

It’s just that we’re not close. At all. I doubt we can even be called acquaintances.

Perhaps it’s because I had no wish to make friends while on the trip. Perhaps it’s because I found his intense stare and gloomy disposition intimidating. Perhaps it’s because he dislikes me for some reason. I don’t know.

We just… didn’t care much for each other, I guess.

The most we’ve spoken to each other about was me asking him to put on his appointed apparel or telling him to change into another outfit and him telling me one of his studs had loosened on his blazer.

That’s all.

We just kept out of each other’s way.

His eyes seek mine out once more and I fidget again under his strong gaze. The absurdity of the situation paired with the overwhelming event from before causes my stomach to twist and turn even further.

“Is there anything else?” I hear myself asking. The voice sounds frail and raspy. It doesn’t sound like me at all.

“I – are you really okay? Your face is all green.” He points out quietly. I fight the temptation to roll my eyes.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t look good.” He persists. Before I can assure him again, his hands are reaching out and holding tightly onto my forearm. “Why don’t you take a seat down at the lounge? You can wait for your aunt there.”

The tightening of his grip and the relaxed manner in which he pulls me from leaning against the wall riles me up. I dislike what he’s doing.

Why is he showing me concern out of the blue? We’ve yet to even hold a proper conversation. We’re not friends enough for me to garner such compassion from him.

I know it’s unreasonable, but I can’t help but entertain the notion that Kris somehow, one way or another, knows about everything that’s going on with my sister and I. That the concern he’s showering me is his way of pitying me. That he’s actually mocking me, clucking his tongue at how pathetic I look.

The mere thought only serve to annoy me more.

I have no need for his pity and help.

“I said I’m fine!”

The voice that screamed out the words sounds both familiar and foreign to my ears. I took a deep breath to calm myself down as my stomach rolls violently.

“I have no need for your help. I’m fine - on my own.” I gritted out, ripping my arm from his steadfast grip roughly. Kris looks at me, silent, an unreadable expression carved into his exquisite features as his plump lips parted in a quiet gasp at my outburst.

“I don’t need your help.” I repeat, forcing the wave of vomit back down and cough to clear my dry throat slightly.

Kris stares at me for a few more seconds before nodding his head curtly and taking a step back. His thick, sculpted brows are lowered over his eyes dramatically, giving his expression an extremely antagonized aura. His lips parts to say something, but I am too far-gone to care about anything then.

If he’s about to bid goodbye to me or to nag at me some more, I didn’t care.

Because I am heading straight for the shiny, silver trashcan across the corridor, ready to let out the disgusting mix of rice and chocolate cake straight into it.

OTL

projectstestspracticalsjustletmedie

I feel like my sense of writing is super dramatic. Oh well.

To all my new subbies: HELLO (90degrees bow) My updates will be coming along a lot slower for the next two weeks because I'm seriously buried chest deep in school assignments. I swear my lecturers are in cahoots - they're all out to get us by giving us deadlines all in the same week.

So, until the next update, xx.