01 | "I'm being serious."

The paper starts to crinkle in my hands. Fisting up the material, the number sticks out like vibrant colors in a dark hue. I wasn't aware of how angry I was getting, maybe because my eyes wouldn't leave that damned number. Like a tape recorder, it was replayed in my head, my defeat heard loud and clear inside the room full of students. Ninety-nine.

A ninety-nine, like all good grades, is a proud score to get. However, to someone who gets constant hundreds and studies for days on end, this, this? This was garbage. How could I sit so low? It felt so easy, so why? So how? How could someone like me have gotten a ninety-nine instead of a hundred?

My body was quaking. I've never felt so much humiliation, but that continues to increase with every failure I receive. I didn't notice how white my knuckles turned before a sultry yet aggravating chuckle entered my range, eyes shooting like daggers to watch him walk forward.

"Again, Hayoon?" He begins to mock me. This trauma stems from our earlier days when this fight first began. It started in the low sixties and seventies and skyrockets to the constant nineties. It has been a decade of constant war, and I lost another battle. Embarrassing. "This is the third time this month, Hayoon. I thought you were taught better."

Don't do it, Hayoon. It's one test. Your grades are still in the highest percentile. Don't hit him. Although he's making your blood boil, don't think about him. Be proud. End the war already. Be the reason to end it, and become a better person–

His hands pat the crown of my head. His free hand lets go of the paper, and it cascades like a flying feather down to my desk. One hundred percent.

My brain was no longer in control. I could only stare as my heart thumps out of my chest. He notices almost instantly, how I was no longer in the right headspace, and laughs to add to that rage. With his hand on the crown of my head, he pats me. Twice. With his fingers sliding down my hair, the word leaves his lip.

"Checkmate."

And his hand grips my shoulder like a wolf's claw, squeezing once before walking away. I let out a heavy exhale, the crumpled test falling to the desk in a ball. I claw my hair, holding my head manically. Unknowingly, I let out a vicious groan, slamming my palms on the desk, and attracting the attention of my classmates. Oh, you just darn wait, Lee Heeseung. You wait! I swear to GOD, I will get my revenge–

"Still fighting over that petty number one?" Someone questions, stopping me from my internal monologue about how I'll beat Lee Heeseung, my vice president, to a pulp. Our secretary, reading glasses propped on his face with seriousness, smiling charmingly. His arms rest on the desk, watching me intently. "I can't believe I've watched this happen for four years straight, although such a world war has gone on for longer. You guys will go down in history."

"Shut your trap, Sunoo," Secretary Kim frowns rather puppy-like. I groan once more with my face in my hands, exhausted. "I studied for a month. How could such an easy test not be my redemption? Is there something wrong with me?"

"There's something wrong with you both," Sunoo comments. "If it makes you feel any better, Prez, I got an eighty-four."

"How are you still a part of the student council?" Sunoo wasn't too delighted at my comment and retracts his arms to cross them. "Anyway, I'm not in a war with you, Sunoo, so any score that's not Heeseung's score is good. I need him to falter already. I wonder if he's been studying as much as I have."

"Hyung's a tryhard. Don't beat yourself up about it."

"We're both tryhards, Sunoo, which is why I'm beating myself up."

"Oh, please," Sunoo brushes off my comment. "Think about it, Hayoon. Technically, you're the overseer! You're Prez of the student council, so everything cancels out. I'm sure he's still bitter you got the most votes, and that's why he's trying so much harder. To make up for the rather large defeat you gave him."

I always knew Sunoo was on my side! He makes a good point. "You think so?" I giggle slightly, covering my mouth with my hand. Sunoo doesn't find the action charming and coughs awkwardly. "You think that he's bitter about me getting the majority of votes?"

"Well, yeah. It's Senior year, and you've won twice in a row. He's a bit bitter. He's your underling."

I stand up swiftly, raising my hand. "Good! That's how he should feel! Lee Heeseung, I will get my revenge!"

"God, you've gone crazy," Sunoo covers his face. "I can't be seen with you, Prez. Bye now!"

"W-Wait, Sunoo!?"

"I propose a full make-over of the south auditorium," He proudly comments, sitting in front of ten other people, including me. I'm not amused, to be fair, because he's not the first one to suggest a renovation for that auditorium. It's old and crusty, and everyone thinks it's haunted... but the student council simply doesn't have the budget to turn such a big space into a dream house. "This could also help seniors get in their last few hours of volunteer hours renovating. Wouldn't this be a win-win situation? The seniors get their seal on their diplomas, and the underclassmen get a clean auditorium. Right-" He pauses, swinging toward my direction. An eyebrow raised, he adjusts his glasses to sit properly on his face, a smirk written on his face. "President?"

"I'm against it," I don't hesitate, slamming my hands against my desk. Sunoo looks up from his laptop, eyeing the both of us. I know internally, he must be going 'not this again,' but I can't give up. "We simply don't have the budget if we let go of getting a new planetarium. We'd need to raise more funds, and we don't have the time. Sports aren't active in the first few months, and by how you make this sound, you must want this desperately. I will not allow it."

"President Moon, I hope you know with endearment you are spouting nonsense," So he wants to play dirty? In front of the rest of the council? "The planetarium isn't as much of a priority as our representative auditorium is. Besides, it's still working just fine! So, let's scrap that idea."

"Aren't you the one who presented that idea at last week's meeting?" His face fell. I caught him.

However, he makes a quick recovery. "I had a change of heart."

"I don't allow it to pass," I shake my head. Taking steps down to the front of the room, my vice president glares at me. "It's not used as much anymore, so it would be a waste to have it renovated."

"That's simply because it's old and gross-looking!"

"I get the final say, Vice-Prez, and I say no," I sternly reply, making the choice right then and there. He doesn't reply, and instead, walks back to his desk first. I clear my throat, looking at Sunoo. He doesn't seem to glance at me, however, and marks up the last moments of the vice president's spiel. "Anyway, if anyone else would like to propose an idea, please take your spot up front."

I return to my seat, which coincidentally, is right by his. The vice president stares at me the whole way back and makes a clear scoff when I sit right next to him. I turn his way ironically, giving him an unamused glance. Heeseung isn't that fazed either. "They elected us as a rare pair of presidents. They called us the best pair when we first got elected," Heeseung states. "We don't even get along. How do they expect us to be the best?"

"Oh. Are you calling yourself the problem?" Heeseung's concerned eyes fall dead. I wish I could push him off his chair. "If you think that way, then be my guest and get out of the room–"

"I'm being serious, Hayoon," His reply made my heart jump. However, it annoyed me that he thought I was being immature, moreover allowing my position as president to be some silly joke.

"I'm as serious as you are, Heeseung," I glare, trying not to be too loud that the other council members decide to snarl at us. "Don't try to disrespect me in the only place I get respect."

And he doesn't reply.

I turn back to the council member speaking, hearing nothing but silence next to me. It's safe to say Heeseung didn't speak for the rest of the meeting, being the first one to leave with rushing feet.

I watch him run off. My arms tighten in my crossed position, forgetting that I was supposed to be the better person– but I couldn't.

"Checkmate," the word we'd always yell to get back at the other when we won... it's what he always yelled. He always had the upper hand in anything but student elections. What irked me the most is that by the smallest margin, he'd always win, and I would never be able to make up for it until the next test.

Although the classroom could be called a disputed point, one that we both shared and fought over, the student council room was where all hell broke loose.

And, in that room, it was going to be my ground. It will stay mine.

Whether Heeseung liked it or not.