Episode One(하나 ): Just Another Day
 

Shin Jimin’s P.O.V

Promises were just words, no matter which language you whispered them in.
 

The tale of the tongue meant little when the desire of reality swept it away like a violent ocean's current. Murky waters bathed in white foam would bite the heels of those who waded too deep. Emotionally invested in things beyond them, to drown in the vastness of possibility. What was a promise when curiosity took hold of one's heart? A word? A whisper?

An empty mouthful of sounds and phrases that would please the heart and mind sounds more like it.

But they were nothing more, and also, nothing less.

My mother tried to fool my own ever listening heart with lines that the blind could see as false. She had muttered little nothings to it, to that damaged fool of an organ that had grown achingly attached to the words “I’ll be there”. She promised me. I could still smell the scent of Tresemmé in the ebony tresses atop her head during our recent departing embrace that lacked a familial sense. It never lacked those three words, though. She had told me she would be there, here, but what fool would believe that she held that amount of capability? I should know by now that my mother never abided by her self-induced promises. But my heart was that particular fool. She was not capable of seeing her promises through, and that remained true when the foe was her own mouth.

That foe of a mouth always tinted in garnet would drag my heart into a habit that forced me to actually believe her. Every. Time.

Seventeen years, and I still waded too deep.

The chime of a doorbell from the front door was muted to my ears, but it burned itself into my sleepy retinas and disoriented mind. The front door swung hesitantly open, hinges creaking in their wake as the presence hidden behind the door thought it was intelligent to invite themselves in. Cute.

“Are you prepared for your new adventure, Jimin-ah?"

Blegh, morning people. My thoughts agreeably echoed while I half wondered if I'm still dreaming as I take in the shafts of light that burst through the gap in the ajarred door. By the time my eyes can even process the mirth, of a potentially true nature given the circumstance, that flickered into existence as it lit the housekeeper’s, Kyuri’s, aged eyes, my brain had become overwhelmed all over again as if my life were all new, fresh, raw. I wish I could linger in that blissful ignorance of waking, or else never sleep.

“Well,” word curt, almost clipped, rough around the edges, while mild uncertainty overlapped the syllable and tangled my lips into a grim line. "My suitcases are overflowing with items that are desperately needed, but it seems like the zippers that will not zip delightfully couldn’t care at all. My uniform makes me stiff, because it’s so tight in all of the wrong places. Oh, but those aren’t the least of my worries since I seem to be lacking something..." No malice existed in my tone, words so plainly stated that they seemed near monotone.

“And do you know what I’m lacking, Kyuri-ssi? A mother who isn’t here to me throughout my oh-so-wonderful ‘adventure’!”

It wasn't an intentional jab at Kyuri. At least the organ within my cranium believed so. However, I couldn't restrain my eyes from squinting venomously at the door she suddenly began to close once she stepped into the dining room. Possibly cautious of the neighbors overhearing my fit. A brass safety chain dangled and twinkled at the side of the door, an unnecessary gesture for an oddly kind community like this.

Entirely unimpressed, Kyuri scoffed, stubby legs trembling as she makes a move to sit in the chair adjacent from me. “Is that the proper way to address your elder? Perhaps calming down might be a better option than yelping around in a manner akin to an enraged, wild animal. Unless, of course, you’re somehow forgetting that you aren’t in the wild right now,” she scolded, forcing me to snort, rejecting the suggestion instantly, "I see where your anger is coming from, Jimin-ah. However, selfishly thinking isn’t going to dissolve your negative feelings towards your mother. She has a respectable reason to be absent today, especially since she’s working incredibly hard for an income that paid for that uncomfortable uniform and the items crammed in your suitcases."

There were no words that could adequately convey what was occurring emotionally nor did the need arise to attempt it. Blinking twice before turning my attention to the mysteriously pink box held between her wrinkled hands, I allowed another prolonged silence to linger until I finally offered an appropriate response.

“Sorry.”

A curt smile marred Kyuri’s countenance with a gentle enunciation of smooth syllables following, “Apology not accepted, Jimin-ah. You know very well that a sorry isn’t necessary. Especially when true feelings are involved,” I met her sudden fierce gaze with an expression that leaned toward amused acceptance. Only Kyuri could transition from a gentle woman into a stern guardian in a matter of five nanoseconds.

“Now accept a delicious bagel and eat, Hero. You’re very irritable with an empty stomach and you need all the ‘homies’ you can get.”

A quirk of the lips accompanied by the lightest of laughs is given in response to Kyuri’s words, anger was found in the way  she called me irritable, but was instantly placed to the side – thoughts lingered as if unwilling to let go of the fact that she used the terms Hero and homies in the same sentence, if only for a quick second – as my gaze dragged downward to the box of bagels Kyuri intentionally opened and displayed in my hungry features.

Grabbing a proffered bagel, there was little time wasted in taking a bite. I chewed and swallowed before the corner of my lips quirked upward as a quiet laugh fell from Kyuri.

“Despite how tight that uniform is, it looks absolutely lovely on you,” enthused the older woman. The words rang in my ears, and the sudden compliment jarred a strange pang through me, something that could’ve been the vestiges of either gratefulness or unease, but my reply was a forced smile before I’d even considered it.

“You’re not planning to quit school because of an uncomfortable uniform and a couple of crammed suitcases, are you?” she teased, and I looked away, that familiar, dull sigh escaping past lips. Then I glanced back, making an effort to shape my expression into something unpleasant.

“God, Kyuri, of course not. Thanks for your vote of confidence.”  

Kyuri gained a sick satisfaction from my response as she gave me a toothy grin and proffered a dismissive wave of her hand, “I was just curious. I was going to suggest that if things didn’t work out, maybe you’d like to come to my next book club meeting with me,” she offered, reaching over and patting me on the head, still finding it in herself to tease me.

“Kyrui, please,” I responded. The prospect of a night with a bunch of bitter, middle-aged women didn’t exactly cheer me up. “I’d rather accept a tighter uniform.”

This idle talk was meant to put me at ease, I could tell. Holding her hands up, Kyuri let out a lopsided grin. Was she passing as sane? Not likely. Itching her nose, she let her weight shift from the balls to the soles of her tired feet as she watched me with genuine intent.

“Good. There’s a driver waiting for you outside. Better get a move on, young one.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, I hurriedly stood from my chair and performed a one-hundred-eighty degree twirl and trudged towards my suitcases that were scattered about in the living room. Taking a hold of the thoughts that swirled in my head consisting of not seeing this place for awhile, my lips twitched into an unconfident frown.

I gathered two of my suitcases, unfortunately leaving two more to gather dust. "Kyuri, be a dear and grab these last two cases for me." My demanding tone floated without sound through my thoughts, no voice but a suggestion of long, dark hair and arms that had wrapped around me as a child. My mother. Something went through me in response, an imprint of emotion that took me some time to name: defiance, though it was utterly without any malevolence.

A light groan from the kitchen informed me that Kyuri had heard my request and delightfully accepted it. Not that this was never the case. The formerly mentioned woman propped the door open with her stubby leg, tossing me an indifferent glance as I accepted the gesture with an up-turned frown, attempting to step over her extended leg. "The things I do for you, child." I heard as the living room was soon out of view, now replaced with the corridor that lead to the front door also known as my key to escape.

Sparing her a glance filled with mischief, my lips curled into a smile filled with jester before shaping into words that formed, "...and the checks you receive for doing those things."

I belatedly earned a snort and a slammed door for the retort.

The upcoming stairs were slapped against the porch as if they were an afterthought. They fell too close to the entrance and were uncommonly narrow. The rail was simply a plank of wood supported by three mean spindles. It looked for all the world that it would come crashing down with even the weight of a child, yet it must have been there thirty years or more.  I took a deep breath before placing even some of my weight on the highest step and kept my hands clear away from the rail. The squeak did not surprise me but it was immediate and loud. I descended down the steps, not before hearing the sound of another squeak. Not having to look in the squeak’s direction to know it was Kyuri, I struggled to keep one of my suitcases closed and soon brightened at the closely parked car outside. The driver, posed with his hands entwined in front of his expanding belly, dipped his head in my direction as if to acknowledge my existence. I merely mirrored the gesture, noticing his hesitance to offer help to Kyuri who stumbled outside moments after.

Ignoring the small dialog that began to spread between the two workers, I wobbled towards the vehicle with suitcases threatening to slip from my grasp. With no desire of assistance from the driver, I fumbled with the recently waxed door-handle, opening the door completely without carelessly tossing the suitcases inside. Upon hopping inside the car, it wasn't long before I heard the sound of the driver shuffling the rest of my cases inside the trunk, slamming the said object soon after. His assigned door opened, and soon, his grinning appearance greeted me while a fraud smile from Kyuri had bid me farewell.

Close to returning the goodbye, the driver had decided to speak, "All set, Miss Shin?"

Retracting my disappointed glance toward Kyuri, I peered at the driver with quirked brows, nodding silently in response. With one final, reassuring smile, the driver gave life to the car whose engine purred in delight before locking the doors and leaving the driveway. A small frown lingered on my appearance.

I never learned to say goodbye with style.

Kwon Mina’s P.O.V

Stupid Chunghee! Who does he think he is, constantly finding amusement in bickering with me on a daily basis? I stuffed my hands into my coat, allowing the wind to tangle my hair into a mess around my face, walking. I pressed my hands against my stomach through my pockets as if trying to hold in all the mixed feelings that were threatening to spill through.

"I. Hate. You."

Those three words had flown from my mouth during mine and Chunghee's heated dispute. The three words that I never imagined I'd even think, let alone say out loud. I had aimed them recklessly. However, I had known instantly from the look in his eyes, that they'd hit their mark.  Chunghee had ran his hand through his close-cropped-hair three times in quick succession and fixed me in a stare that could have frozen the Pacific. In that instant, I knew — no, I felt that our relationship had shattered into glassy shards. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Crying had always been a healthy release, but for me it was a habit now. The blue feeling washed in like an unwanted wave, knocking my sand castles flat. Now what? Am I supposed to construct them again? Get that bucket and spade out and make it pretty all over again? I paused mid-stride. No more building, no more castles. I stood and stared at the school's gate that was fashioned to look antique but the hinges were undoubtedly new. More tears, no surprise there. I let them fall, not raising a hand to stop them.

“You know, it would be far easier to pull the gate open than to stare at it. I believe that’s what the sign by the handle is trying to tell you. But, I could be wrong.”

The sudden presence of the stranger ripped my attention away from the school's gate and forced it to avert to him. His hair, frosted with a coffee-like hue and brushed away from his brow, was still thick with an unruliness that expensive cutting hadn't completely disciplined. It added to the attractiveness, hinting at an untamed individuality which was far removed from the tedium of conventional male good looks. It’s pretty depressing when you find yourself thinking that maybe if you looked more like this stranger, this male stranger, your boyfriend wouldn’t constantly pull you into arguments and repetitively threaten your relationship.

Oh, and that smile. That playful smile on his face, it looks real and feels real, has my heart filling with a warmth that’s familiar, but there’s just something about it that forces a stutter in my walk forward. I'm first to admit that people confuse me to hell, but some things are just gut instinct, and this felt a little staged, a little fake. ​But, he'd taken the time out of his life to simply acknowledge a female whose appearance basically screamed "I look stupid and feel terrible, approach me," and that definitely counted for something.​

And that’s what forced my feet to move, step by step, careful and measured, toward someone that I’d possibly gain the pleasure in physically harming.

 Silence lingered, and I felt a scowl twitch my lips downward when the male just stood there, observing me, instead of continuing onward, a full minute passing before I debated to speak up. I wanted to respond with something witty. It was always easier to laugh, be loud, replace feelings with jests and jokes, but I couldn’t seem to manage it.

"Was there something you needed or is staring at strangers for prolonged periods a profoundly annoying habit you happen to partake in?” And there it was. Faint mirth could be detected if one searched my face for long enough, dancing around the edges and just out of reach for anything more obvious to be shown if such an occurrence was probable. Another assessing once over was given and I sighed inwardly, pondering the pros and cons of various methods to detach myself from this situation. If the boy didn’t speak up quickly I’d find the drive to turn around and walk away, disinterested in any manner of small talk at the moment.

He hummed slightly, chocolate gaze flickering toward the impressive architecture of the school’s dormitory in mock thought at my words. The situation was seemingly obvious given his position in lavishing attention onto a decaying building and as such the initial rasp of sarcasm – “No, of course not. It’s not a common occurrence for me to engage with a crying girl in my day to day activities.” – was let go in favor of a less biting reply.

This earned him a weak laugh as I attempted an awful imitation of confidence​. “My tears thank you for pointing them out. They’ve been going unnoticed as of late.” I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, desperately trying to force the tears back into my eye sockets.​ Because the previous was the truth, and oh, what an ironic statement it was. “Are you new? I haven’t seen you around.” ​ There was a tediousness to smalltalk, but I fell into the pattern of it regardless. Plus, it seemed he was heading towards the school building, but he wasn’t sporting the school’s mandatory uniform.  

Chocolate orbs focused on the building again and then flicked to me. Lips tightened momentarily as he cleared his throat, taking a few steps back, next letting his hands plunge into the pockets of his jeans as one shoulder lifted in a shrug, "Yeah, I am. Arrived today, actually," the male hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat again, "was on my way to grab my uniform, but I crossed paths with you."

Ah, that seemed reasonable.

The school's bell abruptly began to ring before my lips could part and create a curt reply. The clinging that echoed through the school yard was chaotic rather than melodic. It was a warning.

 "Guess that's your cue. Tell your tears to come say hi sometime, mine have been lonely.” Still his words were light, teasing, as though the two of us were old friends rather than near-perfect strangers.

Wait, what?

And with a simply murmured, see ya later, he pushed past me to leave, entering through the school's gate like some strange specter that had visited in some sort of dream.

Crossing my arms, I tilted my head at his retreating figure, squinting once just to make sure he wasn’t a figment of my imagination conjured up by my upset mind as a means to brighten my mood. And once I'm convinced, I cleared my throat, speaking loud enough for him to hear me, even as the distance between us increased.​

"See you around."

I stood there for a moment under the gloomy clouds. Then water began to sprinkle, cold and wet. Drops of water trickled down the exposed parts of my skin as I continued to stand there, frozen. My gaze fixed on the disappearing male as the clouds continued to cry. I followed after him.

My mood was officially dampered. Again.

Park Choa’s P.O.V

A new roommate?

It's been two painfully long years since the school even considered handing me one of those. My friends have constantly teased me, claiming that the reason behind me never having a roommate is because I'm a "Stage Five Clinger". I, tired of being falsely accused, would grumpily retort with a, "be quiet, it's possibly due to the lack of accepted female applicants...probably", which would usually earn me a spell of giggles in return. Anyway, ever since I've received the uplifting news from the headmaster's secretary, my usual nonchalant facial expression bared an emotion that resembled someone expecting a great gift.

In this case, I believed I was...

The cafeteria during breakfast was a cacophony of loud chatter, each table a cosseted huddle of students raising their voices to be heard above the cafeteria. The food is secondary to the information that is exchanged here. The gossip, which is traded like kisses amongst couples who do not have the word privacy ingrained into their minds, is the first to pull me out of my daze. The second being a delicate, dainty palm squirming its way into my line of sight.

"Yah, Choa! Earth to the hideous creature named Choa!~" Chanmi pestered, her tone was teasing yet smothered with concern while her posture was slumped, her brows creased and face tense.

"Oh, sorry. What were you babbling on about, Gumdrop? I believe my overwhelming hideousness caught something along the lines of 'Oh Choa, your hideousness is beyond charming, I just can't resist the urge to swoon over you'! " There is a hint of victory in the smile surrounded by my stiff cheeks, not the supple grin of a friend, but the joy of the enemy after the battle is won. And judging by Chanmi's scowling features - the battle was definitely won.

"Ew, nevermind. Clearly, those words are as empty as your skull," the corners of Chanmi's mouth twitched upward into a delighted grin, her sparkling eyes sparing me a 'you-know-I-adore-you' glance. And I, her. Our friendship happened to spark during our first year of high school; an issue involving me cheating off of her English exam. She didn't seem to mind. Especially since she assisted in convincing our seonsaengnim that I hadn't been peeking at her test at all. However, our beloved seonsaengnim knew a lie when he smelled one. He still managed to toss me a moue of distaste every time I stride down the first floor's corridor, in which his dungeon resides.

"I'm assuming your mind is still on your new roommate?" She paused here, and I nodded, in which she comes to the decision to continue. "Speaking of roommates, where is mine? She should've been here ten minutes ago." With that mumbled and out of the way, Chanmi's face crumpled again.

​

Kwon Mina has been Chanmi's roommate ever since our first year. Despite Mina being a night owl and Chanmi being a morning person, the two ladies were inseparable.

"I assure you that Mina is probably tangled up in one of her relationship problems," is out of my mouth, an unconscious response to a topic that we both find uncomfortable, yet unavoidable. Poor thing. Mina's the only one who manages to nail a relationship out of us three stooges, and yet - after witnessing one of their 'love quarrels' - I'm delighted I'm not in one.

"She will be here soon."

A small smile decorated Chanmi's features, something filled with melancholy, and I already know there's a complaint at the tip of her tongue. "Last night was terrible. It was 10 o'clock and I was desperate for sleep. Out of nowhere, Mina storms in. It was like a crying tsunami disguised as a troubled girl. Then, like the night owl she was born to be, she pulls out her textbook and starts working on homework."

I catch myself clicking my tongue at her unfortunate luck. My little show of interest made her laugh, and she shifted in her seat, arms propping up on the table as she found it in herself to stare at me without pause.

An undercurrent of distaste at the consideration of being continually watched flared and a momentary dip in my usual smile occurred. “Are you going to say the usual spiel? Might as well get it over with. God knows you’re dying to say it.”

“You should scare off Chunghee with your clinginess and maybe the new girl will catch on that you’re a Stage Five Clinger and won’t bother. If she knows what's good for her, that is.” Her words were uttered lightly, as if to intimate that they were a joke.

They weren’t.

“There is no vacancy in my life to tolerate continuous interruptions for the sake of me greeting my roommate’s newly arrived self.”

Even if it would be nice to scare off Chunghee...

My eyes trickled across the canteen's expanse, ending the conversation before it began, averting to the very familiar appearance of the tsunami-made-being-girl herself, striding towards our table.

"See? Told you she'd be here!"

Mina, upon catching my soft gaze, managed to fake a smile that I'm sure buries her vulnerability deep inside her heart. But her eyes remained cold, like nothing in this world could melt them. I watched silently as she fixed her damp attire idly. Her eyes drifted up to catch mine once more, and as she arrived at our table, a curious look shifted over her face.

"So, what's the news? Meet her yet?" Mina questioned, and she’s sitting down comfortably next to me, legs crossed at the thigh as she tossed Chanmi an apologetic glance, content with the dismissive wave she received in return.

Mina was aware about the new roommate too. I, seeming to have been born from my excitement and impatience of receiving a roommate, have only allowed my first baby words to be "new" and "roommate". Obviously, I must have been a joy to be around lately.

"Unfortunately, there's no news to be shared. Now onto commercial break!" I flashed a quick, tight smile in Chanmi's direction, earning me a pleasant view of her tongue in return. "Truthfully, it shouldn't be long until I meet her, though." There’s a little pause, where the two of them just look at each other as I catch a frantic glimpse at the clock decorating one of the cafeteria's cream-colored walls. "In fact, Ms. Yan was very persistent on me being the new girl’s guide. Show her around and all that exciting stuff.  She even managed to make an arrangement as to where me and my new roomie have the same class schedule. Meaning, no first period for me!" Having paused to peer at a rather curious group of gossipers, I pivoted and gave a once over to the beings approaching with an intensity that came with careful scrutiny.  "And I get to miss second period. Only for twenty minutes though..."

"Looks like it’s time to get an early start. I'll bother you two later!" ​A quick wink, and then— with that statement still lingering in the air, I quickly stood, wincing as the chair screeched at the sudden friction. I my heel, short hair bouncing with every step as I strode toward the cafeteria's double-doors.

"Tell the poor girl I wish her luck!"

My bottom lip quivered as I tried to mask my amusement. It almost worked — I managed to keep a (mostly) straight face at Chanmi's departing words once I made an exit out of the cafeteria.

Good luck, indeed.

Kim Chanmi’s P.O.V

Despite the cheery (and not so cheery) glow and general din of students going to their respective places during first period – laughter and arguments bouncing around the halls here and there as gaggles of colleagues, friends, lovers, enemies and others crowded around each other for whatever interaction they deemed necessary – there was a touch of disenfranchisement in my head, lingering in the backdrop with mild annoyance and an overarching ache, a pain that was no longer directly felt. Even slumped in the desk of a class I genuinely hated, though it never flickered across my face, there was an unsettled thrum in my skull that had begun to rattle the cages my brain occupied. Without hesitation, I laid my head on the desk’s smooth surface, the cool temperature emitting from the surface eased the intense ache almost immediately.

But the easing paradise didn’t last long once the teacher waltzed in, voice barking out an order for me to “raise my head off of the desk. It’s not time for sleeping, it’s time for Osmosis.”

I despised Biology class with a passion. The teacher was the embodiment of patronising, and I could generalise the same trend amongst my classmates. In the respect of verity, it was due to the lack of aptitude within this subject to which I most likely held disdain for it. The stages of Osmosis and Diffusion were serpentine, an aggravating perplexity to which I could really care less. The quizzes were okay but I could do better. My annoyances with this intricate articulation was further aggravated with the student body president, Park Jimin, rapidly answering the instructor in what-appeared-to-be correct terms.

My glowers were menacing, colored coffee with annoyance toward Jimin.

“Kim Chanmi, define Osmosis.”

Teachers had a propensity of targeting the students falling behind and publicly humiliating them in front of the rest. Not a moment was expanded into searching for the answer in my mind; if only this was ‘lunch period’… “I don’t know.” I rolled my eyes, behavior most typical (almost stereotypical) of the recalcitrant. “You’re the teacher, why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re a student, and you’re here to learn.” The teacher retorted, hand on hip.

“I said I don’t know. So, ask someone else.” I had tempestuously shot back, most likely the lingering migraine talking.

“Osmosis is the movement of solvent molecules through a partially permeable membrane into a region of higher solute concentration, in the direction that tends to equalize the solute concentrations on the two sides.” Park Jimin, who was located in the desk beside me, intervened with the answer, and I did the oh-so-mature thing and sulked at my seat. Flagrant lours angled at the teacher whenever I could. And to whoever I deemed a ‘smartass’. (Park Jimin being the main target). A moderate measure of amusement was allowed along with what could have been viewed as pity – if it was or was not remained questionable – to appear on Jimin’s face, lazy posture shifting as his eyes met my glaring one’s briefly.

“Well, someone doesn’t look like a particularly happy bunny today,” was muttered more to himself as folded arms rested upon his chest, allowing the slightest hint of delighted teasing slide into his grin.

I continued to glare unwaveringly in return – which, to be quite honest, was all I’d been doing this lesson. With such little attention to the topic, it was no wonder I was beginning to fail this class.

“This is just my face.”

A quirk of the eyebrow was given, eyes dragging up and then down as his reply was uttered:

“My sincerest apologies, then.”

I could not tame the annoyance at the sheer ridiculousness of my situation.

The ostensible teacher was firing rapid questions at my fellow classmates and they were responding the same. But there I was sitting like a fool, and inexorably morose. It did not take long for me to notice the pitying stares from the student body president. I hadn’t, in any term of actuality, been acquainted to such a person, but if there was any occasion to do so, it was not this one, and it was most certainly not with one who bore superiority to me.

There. My hackles rose sharply as the stare extended further than what amenity allowed, why the hell is he staring at me for so long?

The question apprehended both of our focuses, with me hesitant to meet the teacher’s gaze should he attempt to coerce some form of answer from me, again. The fleeting thought as to why I’d chosen to enroll in this school quivered in my mind’s sights, yet again. But it was soon dissolved as I stole a glance at the classroom’s only window.

The slightest of a silhouette had lashed out behind the only cherry blossom tree that decorated the campus and it had me pausing, eyes held alert, and my bottom lip parting.

It seemed like Park Jimin wasn’t the only one who liked to stare.

The shadow’s presence was mixed with other emotions I didn’t care for, it was almost too eerie to be referred to as a friendly visit behind a tree, though. And this forced me to ponder on who exactly was out there. With eyes only on the figure ahead, I squinted to grab a closer look, but looming shadows suddenly veiled the silhouette from my wandering eyes.

 I gasped softly, the sight and the sudden disappearance of the black figure bringing me a genuine gift of uneasiness.  Straight back, long legs firm, sitting in my seat unusually casual and eyes focused on the teacher.

That was… odd.

The class couldn’t end sooner, and when it did… god was I rejoicing. It was like a snowball-effect, I had packed my bag and was ready to leave within mere seconds.

The walk out of the classroom was near delightful. Until Park Jimin fell into step by me.

Suspicion had colored my appearance, and caution my sights in sanguine tones. But he was beside me; and he wasn’t talking. The rigidity expanded expeditiously but almost before I could act upon my burning desire, the kid had spoken: “I noticed your below moderate levels in Biology and feel you would benefit in a tutor for the course. May I offer assistance in your learning?”

It was perfect, complex and to the point.

I despised him.

“Oh really?” I feigned nonchalance, still highly upset at the sight I just witnessed prior – and of course I hadn’t been despising his very existence preceding this. It was then inferred he’d insulted me for my ability (or lack of such) in Biology. “’below moderate’? How very dare you.”

I ceased in my tracks, forgetting where I was going. “I’ll have you know I’m doing just fine.” The lie sounded as it was; a lie. Even to myself the falsity almost austere in its flinty aloofness, even though this was one of the moments where I deviated from that characteristic within. “So, President, you can carry along your way… god knows why you’ve deigned to go about offering charity.”

I wasn’t the type to accept help, and even now, I refused to be gracious – I’d most likely regret it later, but now, my ego was of utmost priority.

So my priority dictated my legs, and I my heels, trekking along.

“Oh, wait! You dropped something, Chanmi.”

Swift gait paused at the shout, a hand slipped into the tight opening of my bag and pulled out empty as if to prove Jimin correct.

Wasn’t he always?  

Rotating around, I lifted an eyebrow prior to presenting a smile – one that, like all others, remained on the surface, perfect in it’s deception. “Thanks.” A hand was outstretched to retrieve my possession, and the paper crinkled under my crushing grip once he handed it to me.

Curious of the contents written on the lost item, I glanced down at the paper, coffee eyes analyzing the three words printed in careful script, ignoring the way Jimin’s gaze lingered on me before he casually brushed past me.

Four words formed a fragment in fancy handwriting that definitely wasn’t mine.

“...as I am weak.”

My brows furrowed, uncomfortable gaze darting to the side, as every muscle tensed in an effort to keep me rooted in place. Thoughts unfurled and attempted to discover where this could have come from. Flashes of the shadow lounging about outside flickered into my mind’s presence. And then there was also Park Jimin…

My hand curled into a fist, crushing the mysterious paper.

And now my thoughts were wondering if I could show a demonstration of Osmosis.

Which involved my fist and Jimin’s face...
 

Lookie-cookie, a wild update has appeared!
Ah, I'm very aware that this is long overdue. (Emphasis on long).
I've had very reasonable excuses to not acknowledge this story for six months and I deeply apologize to those of you who have been anticipating the first chapter.
Words can't express how excited I am about this story! I've been outlining and plotting some very intense events for future chapters. And, oh boy, will you be in utter suspense!
I have much to say, but I can't seem to... let out the beast? Oh! Development will be slow. Not achingly, but slow enough. There will be a few mysterious happenings
discovered by our four female heroines  in the next two-to-three chapters, so keep those peepers and minds open!
As for updates, I will try to post a new chapter every Thursday, Friday, or Saturday of each week. Don't worry, it will not take me another six months to update!
Scouts honor.
So, hm, what are your thoughts so far? Do any of you have a favorite yet?~ I do hope you admire each lady, as I do.
If there are any curiosities I can appease, then do approach me with them!
A BIG thanks to OffingMoiety for her assistance! <3
And a big thanks to those of you who are willing to stick around for this journey! <3 ,3
We will experience some kick- action, the drama we all know and love, angst, heartbreak, romance, lust. <3 Ah, so much!
I should stop while I'm ahead--
In that case, enjoy the read! And I'll see you next time, Buttercups~. :)