NOW PLAYING: NINE AND THREE QUARTERS, (RUNAWAY) BY TOMORROW X TOGETHER

❛It feels like everybody's happy but me
It hurts more when I smile than when I cry
Though I try to hold it back every day
Though I try to hang in there
But it's not working so well❜

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ  ⎯⎯ ✦

IT WAS NOW LUNCHTIME, THE CANTEEN WAS BUZZING LIKE A SWARMING BEEHIVE. Students crammed in the small room, some munching on the meals carefully crafted by the lunch staff, others basking and savoring their homemade lunches, hungry bellies being filled with a parent's love. Others just chatting with their friends about what plans they had for the weekend.

Lee Yu-ri was not one of them. She was hidden away, in the nook of the school, in her own sanctuary, her own haven. The one and only library. It was the only place in which she could feel herself and more importantly liberated of that obnoxious boy and his little gremlin minions. He was like a toxin. Addictive but bad. He was evil incarnate. She knew deep within herself that she shouldn't pay him any attention he was merely a road block a thorn if you will in her path to success. 'I'll finally be able to make everyone proud of me. They'll see.'

Now despite having one of the most highest grades in the entire school, almost. There was another reason for her unwavering commitment to her education, it was to prove. Prove to everyone that she could still do it. You see Yu-ri was to graduate last year alongside her other peers however that didn't come too fruition, main downside being her mental health it wasn't the greatest the transfer from high school to college had completely shook the earth beneath her feet this whole new era of independence really crushed her.

Expecting the teachers to be observant and perceptive and offer a hand out to help was her misjudgment, she had to go to the teachers herself for help otherwise nobody would save her unfortunately she learned that lesson too late and now here she was repeating the semester year. How she hated the look of disdain in the teacher's eyes when they pitted her thinking she'll never be able to make sure just do the same thing she did last time. She was truly a disappointment.

Tears burned her vision, blotting the paper, making the ink bleed, just like Yu-ri's heart. She would never be good enough. She rapidly blinked, emotions were useless sentiment, it was better to be emotionless then too emotional. Devoid of any compassion, just working like a robot to obtain the best statistics. This wasn't just academic validation for her no this was survival of the fittest. She would never become a slave to her emotions again.

Lost in the labyrinth of her own failures, a harsh inner critic relentlessly dissecting every misstep, Yu-ri hadn't registered the subtle shift in the library's atmosphere. The quiet rustle of turning pages, the distant hum of the ventilation system - all faded into a dull background noise, drowned out by the cacophony of her self-recriminations. She was a fraud, she told herself. An imposter surrounded by brilliance, destined to fail. So consumed was she by this internal monologue, that she didn't notice the approaching footsteps until they were almost upon her, each footfall a hammer blow threatening to shatter her fragile composure.

A long, elongated shadow abruptly fell across her meticulously arranged notes, plunging the meticulously scribbled equations into darkness. The abrupt intrusion was followed by the unwelcome sound of a familiar, infuriating voice, a velvet drawl that sliced through the library's sacred silence like a knife.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" The words dripped with amusement, a performance designed to draw attention.

Yu-ri didn't need to exert the energy to look up. The mocking tone, a carefully cultivated blend of condescension and playful cruelty; the casual arrogance that oozed from every syllable; the distinct, lingering scent of expensive cologne - a heady mix of sandalwood and something indefinably sharper - it could only be Kwon Jiyong. The bane of her existence, the thorn in her side, and, regrettably, the object of a complicated and unwanted fascination.

"Trying to catch up, Yu-ri?" he continued, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, each word carefully chosen to sting. "Don't strain yourself. You know, some people just aren't cut out for this." He punctuated the insult with a theatrical sigh, as if the very idea of her struggling was a source of profound pity.

His "little gremlin minions," as she privately and derisively referred to his ever-present entourage of sycophants, snickered behind him, the sound like the scratching of chalk on a blackboard, grating and irritating. Yu-ri clenched her fists beneath the worn wooden table, her knuckles white against the pressure. She fought to control the surge of anger that threatened to erupt, a fiery inferno threatening to consume her carefully constructed facade of indifference. Ignoring him was the best strategy, she knew from bitter experience. Deprive him of the reaction he craved, starve him of the satisfaction he so desperately sought from her discomfort.

She continued to stare fixedly at her notes, pretending to be engrossed in her textbook, willing herself to become one with the dense equations and complex diagrams. But her focus was shattered, fragmented into a million tiny pieces by his deliberate intrusion. Jiyong's presence was like a discordant note in a perfectly tuned orchestra, jarring against the library's peaceful harmony, a constant, irritating buzz that threatened to drive her mad.

"What are you studying? Macroeconomics? Maybe I should give you some pointers," he drawled, the suggestion reeking of superiority. He reached out, the movement slow and deliberate, and casually pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture that seemed unnecessarily intimate in the sterile environment of the library. His fingers, long and elegant, brushed against her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine despite her best efforts.

Yu-ri refused to acknowledge him, refusing to grant him the validation he craved. She focused on the intricate equations in front of her, willing her mind to block out his voice, his presence, his very existence. She repeated the formulas in her head like a mantra, a desperate attempt to regain control.

He didn't take the hint, of course. He never did. He leaned closer, his shoulder brushing intimately against hers, the contact sending a jolt of unwanted awareness through her. "You know, Yu-ri, you look a little...stressed. Are you sure you're getting enough sleep? All those late-night study sessions can't be good for you." He paused, the silence hanging heavy in the air. "You wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face."

His words, though delivered with that infuriatingly playful tone, seemed to carry an undercurrent of something else, something she couldn't quite decipher. It flickered beneath the surface of his usual teasing, a subtle shift in his demeanor that caught her off guard. Was it...concern? No, that was impossible. An absurd notion. Jiyong would never be genuinely concerned about her. He thrived on her frustration, her anxiety.

Suddenly, he reached out again, and with a swift, deliberate motion, smeared ink across one of her carefully drawn diagrams, obliterating a crucial line connecting supply and demand curves.

"Oops, my bad," he said with a wide, infuriatingly innocent grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Looks like things got a little...messy."

Rage, a raw, untamed force, finally snapped the thin thread of her control. It surged through her veins, hot and electric. Yu-ri slammed her textbook shut, the sharp, resounding thud echoing through the quiet library like a thunderclap. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the polished floor, the sound amplified by the oppressive silence.

"Get out of here, Jiyong," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous, barely a whisper but laced with a palpable intensity that even his cronies seemed to notice. The air crackled with unspoken animosity.

He didn't flinch, didn't even blink. He just tilted his head slightly, his dark, obsidian eyes studying her with a disconcerting intensity, as if he were dissecting her, peeling back the layers of her carefully guarded self. "What's wrong, Yu-ri? Did I touch a nerve?" There was a predatory glint in his eye, a clear indication that he was enjoying her distress.

He was reveling in this, she knew it. Feeding off her frustration, reveling in her discomfort, drawing energy from her vulnerability. The realization only fueled her anger.

"Just leave me alone," she repeated, her voice trembling slightly, betraying the carefully constructed wall she had erected around herself.

He took a step closer, invading her personal space, and Yu-ri instinctively recoiled, pressing back against the table. She noticed, for the first time, that his expression wasn't entirely mocking. The playful smirk was still there, but beneath it, she detected a flicker of something else, something almost...worried? His gaze flicked down to her notes, a quick, almost imperceptible assessment of the damage, then back up to her face, and his playful facade seemed to crack just a little, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability she had never seen before.

"Yu-ri," he said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant, lacking its usual sharp edge. "Are you...okay?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and laden with a sincerity that surprised her, disarming her completely. It was like seeing a wolf suddenly offer a gentle paw. He was still an arrogant, infuriating jerk, but for a brief, fleeting moment, Yu-ri saw something else in his eyes, something unexpected and unsettling. Something that made her, against her better judgment, want to break down and tell him everything. The crushing pressure of expectations, the constant fear of failure, the suffocating weight of her own self-doubt.

But she couldn't. She wouldn't. She would not, under any circumstances, show him her vulnerability. She would not give him that power over her.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice tight and strained, a thin thread stretched to its breaking point. "Just leave me alone."

She grabbed her books and notes, shoving them haphazardly into her bag, desperate to escape his unsettling gaze, to escape the confusing jumble of emotions he had stirred within her. As she hurried away, her back prickling under his intense stare, she could feel his eyes boring into her. The escape hatch of the library door was now her only objective.

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CHAPTER BY ; SEOIN & JAY

WORD COUNT !
1,764