The Devil I Know | Jaeyong

4: Lake Night

The cafeteria is a ticking time bomb. If not the for way everyone sits on their hunches, just waiting for something to happen, but for the way that something does happen each and every time. This time, however, and thankfully, Taeyong's not someone involved. Instead, he watches someone else struggle to get up from the floor, with their uniform a mess of lunch food. He didn't see who caused them to trip up, only heard that familiar rattle of a metal tray against the clean and polished cafeteria floor, but according to some of the whispers going around lately, there've been problems on Pinewood's basketball team. Whispers of tension between two members have been circling the hallways like crazy after an Omega point guard 'stole' the Alpha captain's girlfriend. It's been enough to stir the pot, enough to cause rife between the team, and, apparently, even enough for some people to start taking sides.

Ripping his eyes from the sight of another student pathetically wiping food from their dark blue, navy blazer and white shirt, Taeyong swallows the dime-sized lump in his throat. The sight is too painful to watch, knowing good and well that was him once — knowing that even back a year ago he could've been put in that position, and though he's gotten brave enough for some of his team members to back off, it doesn't mean he's forgotten what easily could've happened in the past. What did happen in the past.

The line moves forward, and the lunch lady smiles as she fills one of the squares in Taeyong's tray with stewed sweet potatoes. Usually, he smiles back, but after witnessing what happened a couple minutes ago, he's way too unsettled to act like himself. And it shows, too, in the way he mindlessly walks out of the lunch line and makes his way around and out of the cafeteria to eat in the library like he usually does, not noticing that he's walking towards the exact group of Alphas he's been trying to avoid. The five of them — six, now, with Mingyu inserting himself somewhere at the back — all walk into the cafeteria with a swagger to their steps and an over-confident air around them that makes people's heads turn. One by one, Taeyong watches as they trickle in; Yuta. Eunwoo. Jungwoo. Jaehyun. And Johnny. Johnny, who for some reason, has diverted from the path towards the lunch line and is heading right towards him. Taeyong stops in his tracks as his eyes flitter from Johnny to the five Alphas behind him. The rest of their asshole group haven't spotted him yet — all but one.

It's like mutual instinct when Jaehyun, on the other hand, lingers at the rear of the pack for a moment and tears his head to the side. Taeyong's bones steel and his breath hikes in his chest when they momentarily lock eyes. Time seems to pause, seems to slow down, seems to speed up all at once when they meet, and that cold, familiar chill builds up again at the base of his spine. Their exchange lasts for less than half a second — so short that Taeyong wonders if Jaehyun had stopped to see him at all when he turns his head again and walks up ahead. Taeyong's stomach wrenches. He'd stayed up replaying the confession Johnny had told him for up to a week now, but, clearly, Jaehyun isn't as obsessed with him as Johnny made him out to seem, if at all. And, if anything, for the past few days, Jaehyun hasn't kept him on his radar at all. In class. At the cafeteria. During practice. And rather than relieving his mind of stress, it leaves him more paranoid than before. If he ever considered the cafeteria a ticking time bomb, Jaehyun's a grenade in comparison that's waiting to explode.

"Yo, T. What's up?"

Taeyong's head snaps back from where he'd unconsciously been watching Jaehyun walk into line at the call of his name. Johnny stands in front of him with his hands pocketed into his dark blue uniform pants and the strap of his backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders casually, a poster boy for Alpha student apparel. Johnny looks as calm and collected as he normally does whenever Taeyong sees him, but there's also something distinctly off that takes Taeyong a second or so to put his finger on. But when he spots it, he can't unsee it. Gaze flitting down to the small swollen bump on the right side of Johnny's lower lip, Taeyong's stomach churns at the sight of a thick scab that runs up and down the vertical length of it. He's never really been a fan of blood, of injury even when on the field and equipped with the knowledge of things like that being inevitable, so it almost makes him want to squirm.