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❝Our world doesn't play out like a fantasy. We aren't some carefree princesses getting handed happy endings on a silver platter-you make one wrong move, and it's game over.❞
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In a world where all control over their lives is illusory, a grou...
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
—Part 10.1— Slow Poison
"Love could be labeled a poison, and we'd drink it anyway." —Anzhi—
Once again, we were throwing knives.
I just happened to be placed right next to Jisung, who I'd been avoiding since that night—save for dinners where we'd all eat together. My fingers were now littered with tiny scars, red from irritation and the abuse I'd constantly pressure my hands into. I couldn't bring myself to focus and kept throwing the knives incorrectly.
Red. Red. Red. Red. Miss.
I sighed in frustration, fingers threading through the straight black strands before harshly tugging at the locks. I had no focus today. As I walked over to the target, I noticed Jisung from the corner of my eye doing the same.
I immediately looked away, knowing that even just the sight of the hamster's eyes would leave my face flushed in scarlet. And I was not going to risk him seeing that. I think I would truly die of embarrassment if I did.
As if hugging him wasn't enough...
I shake the thoughts out of my head, harshly plucking the knives out from the targets before falling into position again. Placing the knife within my right hand, my hand gripped the cool metal handle as I stepped back with my left leg, prepping myself to throw it again.
The whiff of black hair and tall legs entered the corner of my eye, and my eyes clouded as I threw the knife rather horrendously. The sound of metal hitting plastic rang within my ears as I trailed my eyes to the target in front of me.
A complete miss.
Just seeing the sight unconsciously twisted my face into disgust, and I shook my head as I prepared to throw the next knife.
"Uh...Anzhi," I heard the deep voice of the male next to me call out with hesitation.
My entire body tensed up as the conversation I was dreading to have had approached me faster than I wanted. I was hoping I could spend the next week—no, month—avoiding the humiliation that was bound to come from this conversation. Ever so slowly, I pivoted my body in his direction, unable to meet his eyes.
"Yes?" I managed to squeak out, praying that my voice maintained some sense of normalcy.
"Are you avoiding me?"
I couldn't stop the nervous giggles as they erupted from my stomach, tumbling out of my mouth. I truly wanted to fall into a hole at that moment—I couldn't bear the sheer mortification that washed over me in incessant waves, like that of an ocean under a full moon.
My head shot up as I shook my head, my hands frantically shaking as I tried to explain myself.
"It's not like I was purposely ignoring you every single time we met and sat on the rooftop during dinner so we didn't have to talk or anything! I just didn't know what to do, and I'm sure you would've felt awkward around me if I tried to talk to you, so I decided not to and just decided to try and completely erase that night on the rooftop from my mind, but clearly, I failed, and now I'm having this conversation which I didn't want to have and I totally blame you for being cute and that hug for being too comfortable."
