"I just couldn't resist."
"Only sacred things deserve to be messed with."
It all ended with a dead kid near the train tracks.
Six years later, the story repeats itself and two long-forgotten friends might find out that when death tries to play match...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I throw my head back and my neck cracks, a shudder descending my spin, eyes closed and clenching my teeth. My head hurts, the pain a deep point in between my eyebrows and spreading through my skull like a cobweb. My eyes dart to the clock. The bell will ring in two minutes yet I'm the only one sitting in the room. Where is Taehyung? Detention will start soon, and he might get in trouble if he's late.
The clickety-clackety sound of high heels echoes down the corridor and a teacher enters the room, carrying such a large pile of papers and books she can't see in front of her and almost stumbles into the first row of desks.
"Hi," she addresses me, "Can you help for a second?"
She sounds like she's in a bad mood. From her tight hairdo and crisp white shirt assorted with a knee-long black skirt, I can guess she must be a strict teacher, the kind students must not want to mess around with.
I stand up, grabbing some books on top of the gigantic pile in her arms and setting them on her desk. At that exact moment, the bell rings and Taehyung comes in, sending me a smirk and sitting right beside me.
"You're late," the teacher says sharply, grabbing a piece of paper from her documents "You're Mr. Kim?"
"Yeah, Taehyung Kim," the boy answers.
Like there could possibly be any misunderstanding about who he is. The guy is practically a local celebrity.
"And you must be Sage Stewart," the teacher assesses, eyeing me up and down over her wide pink glasses.
"Yes ma'am"
"Well, someone is missing," she adds, bearing holes into the sheet of paper in front of her eyes like it would magically summon the missing student into the room.
She then proceeds to hand documents to the two of us with a dismissive hand.
"You need to write me a 2,000 words essay on why you're here today, how you will repent from your past mistakes, and how it will never happen again," she slaps her hand over her desk, "I will read and correct your papers, so be thorough. If your work isn't deemed satisfactory, I will not hesitate to give you another detention so you can have another chance to do a better job..."
I start writing, my headache making it hard to concentrate. I hear the pencil on Taehyung's paper scratching the surface of his own sheet at the speed of light and I turn to him, surprised to see him so focused. He's absentmindedly biting his lower lip, eyebrows slightly crunched and fluffy hair falling in front of his eyes. The white collar of his uniform shirt is open on too much golden skin for it to be legal and the thin gold chain of his cross rests between his collarbones.
Gosh, he's attractive. I'm practically drooling. The untidy look of his uniform with the scrunched up shirt and plaid pants was always one of my favourites.
