All around Sungyeol, students are anxiously drumming their fingers on school their desks. Their eyes flit from the clock to the ceiling to the teacher and back to the clock again. As for Sungyeol, he’s the only one who wishes the clock would break and the bell to never ring.

He turns to the empty desk beside him and sighs.

Myungsoo has been absent from school for the third day in a row and life is hell without him. His friend never did much but sleep in class but at least he was there. Sure, there were other students in the class Sungyeol could talk to but they had their own groups and the more he sat with them, the more he felt out of place.

His attention turns back to the teacher. He lectures about the history of Korea and is so into it, he doesn’t even acknowledge that half the class is asleep. He’s cut off midway through his break down of the Korean War when the bell rings.

Students erupt into chatter and everyone is out the classroom in a flash. Their teacher looks disappointed but he follows suit.

Meanwhile, Sungyeol slowly gathers his belongings. He’s the last to leave the class.

Trepidation starts to settle in his chest. His heart is suddenly too heavy for his ribcage. His stomach knots and he can’t seem to unravel it. Sungyeol hoists his backpack over his shoulders and idles out the class. The school hallway is too short for his liking. Too soon, he’s five feet away from the entrance. Five feet away from hell. He stops and turns around. Sungyeol starts to walk back. There’s a back entrance, he thinks but he can feel eyes sear onto the back of his head and flames at his ears. Sungyeol looks down at his clenched fingers. Then at the hallway and back down again. He could make it. If he ran like hell, if he didn’t look back, he could—

“Sungyeollie!” He stiffens as the nasally voice pierces the air. Sungyeol’s posture slumps and his heart drops, heavy with dread.

The voice calls again and this time, he forces himself to straighten. He immediately traces circles on his forefinger with his thumb. His clammy hands twitch and he wipes them on his pants. Sungyeol wills himself to get it together. The air condenses in his lungs as his feet turn to trudge out into the almost-autumn ground. His shoes scraps along the grass and collects wet soil.

A malicious silence greets him when he arrives.

“You called?”

Sunggyu flashes Sungyeol his signature mocking leer. It’s enough to make the poor boy want to dissolve into nothingness. He’s dyed his hair red like fire and Sungyeol almost believes that if he touches it, it would burn him to a crisp.

Not that it isn’t tempting.

Beside him stands Woohyun. Like Sunggyu, he’s graduated high school and having no interest in gardening in a village that plants flowers as a livelihood, they joined a gang of sorts. From what Sungyeol hears, this group of around thirty guys lazes around smoking all day and terrorizing the villagers into doing things for them. They are pathetic but there’s power in numbers nonetheless.

Woohyun doesn’t even look at Sungyeol. He’s turned away with his hands in his pockets. The insincere smile he always wears nowadays crumbles in front of him.

He feels guilty, Sungyeol thinks.

Sunggyu squints at the younger boy and his small eyes disappear almost completely. He looks like a disgruntled hamster. It was something Sungyeol and Myungsoo would about when they were friends. Sungyeol swallows hard at the memory and the bitterness lingers in his mouth.

Dread pools in his stomach when Sunggyu holds out an expectant palm.

“Well?” He asks. “Don’t you have it, Yeollie?” His words are sugarcoated malice.

Sungyeol tries a sheepish grin. “No, but—” He gulps when he sees the disapproval curl into Sunggyu’s lips. “—I’ll have it by tomorrow, I promise.”

Anger roars in the older boy’s eyes and he stomps towards Sungyeol. “Are you stupid or something? I said to get it by today, not tomorrow.” Sunggyu begins to poke at his forehead. “Why can’t you—ever—do—things—right?” The last four words he speaks is accompanied with a sharp jab and Sungyeol stumbles backwards.

Woohyun puts a hand on Sunggyu’s shoulder. “Calm down. He said he’ll get it by tomorrow.”

In return, Sunggyu slaps the hand off. “I don’t want it by tomorrow. I have no more cigarettes left.”

His ridiculous and childish tantrum made anger rise up within Sungyeol. Without thinking, he throws down his backpack and shoves his tormentor. “I can’t take this anymore! You’re a grown man acting like a brat!” His words surprises everyone, even himself but it’s too late to stop now. “I’m not going to buy you anymore cigarettes. My mom’s suspicious and you’re not even grateful—”

Before Woohyun can stop the eldest boy, Sunggyu lands a sharp blow on Sungyeol’s jaw. The latter lands on his hip and slides on the damp earth. His white uniform is blackened and usually, this would make him cry but all Sungyeol feels is red hot rage burning inside of him.

He glares up at Sunggyu. “Why the hell do you do this? Is it fun to torture me?”

“You deserve it,” Sunggyu spits. “You killed him. One little punch is nothing compared to what happened to him.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose! It was just—”

“Just what? It was your idea.” Sunggyu grips the collar until his knuckles pale and his hands tremble.

Despite Sungyeol's anger, he's tears catch up to him and begin to leak from his eyes. He clamps down hard on his teeth and keeps his eyes downcast. Humiliation blazes cardinal red on his cheeks.

“What the hell are you doing?” A new voice cuts in.

All three boys look up and Sunggyu even loosens his grip on the shirt.

“Sung...Sungjong,” Woohyun stammers.

Sungyeol wipes the tears away with the back of his hand and attempts a smile. It’s lopsided and pathetic. “You’re back. My dad said you were coming but I didn’t think it would be this… soon.”

“I can’t believe this,” Sungjong says and disappointment colors his tone. He steps forward and slaps away Sunggyu’s fists. “You’re still blaming him for what happened three years ago?”

“So what?” Sunggyu glowers.  

“Did you already forget? You were the one who liked the idea the most. You were the one who played it out. You were part of it too. Don’t you dare deny it.”

“But if it hadn’t been for him—” A finger is jabbed at Sungyeol’s face. “—Dongwoo wouldn’t have died. None of this would've happened.”

Sungyeol glances at Woohyun and their eyes meet for a split second before Woohyun’s gaze flits away.

“You need to wake up, Sunggyu; we were all in it.”

Sunggyu runs a hand through his hair. His breaths come in heavy gasps. Finally, he says, “Let’s go, Woohyun. Let them believe what they want.” He turns to Sungyeol, gives him one last swat and promises death if the cigarette pack isn't handed over by tomorrow.

Sungjong helps Sungyeol up but can’t meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says and Sungjong gives him a look.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Everything.”

“You don’t need to feel guilt for something that happened three years ago, Yeol.”

Sungyeol purses his lips. “Yeah... but I think we all do.”