The Humanity Formula

Armistice, Anger, and Alcohol

"Are you insane?" A yell peals out of my throat, deep and enraged. My arm swings out on its own, the thick manuscript connecting with Bobby's cheek.

He pulls away in shock, holding his hands up in surrender as he backs away.

I turn to Hanbin: pitiful, purple, and pouting. But conscious. He looks up at me as he struggles to move from the knocked over stack of chairs. He holds out his hand for help up.

I think about it.

But then I smack him over the head, too.

I smoothe out the edges of the manuscript's envelope, making sure that I didn't dent or tear any of the corners. In my peripheral vision I see Bobby help Hanbin up. Bobby wipes the blood from the corner of his lip. Hanbin smoothes back his mussed hair.

The anger and confusion bubbles in my veins with each innocent glance and nonchalant gesture.

I grit my teeth, unable to form words. There's too much I want to know and I don't trust myself not to ask anything but the one question burning on my tongue.

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

To calm myself I went back to Chaerin's office where she kept her first aid kit. For bumps and bruises and sprains and idiot boys who get into fights. I sat them down wordlessly, looking like schoolchildren that had been put in time out. They held out their hands and I cleaned the scrapes with disinfectant, not pitying their hisses or whimpers.

"Hayi, I can explain." Hanbin starts, ending the stalemate of glares and awkward looks, his face shining with the greasy ointment.

"It's not what it looks like." Bobby follows, a round bandaid on the corner of his lips.

"We weren't fighting." Hanbin bites his lip at my raised brow. "Well, yeah, we were fighting."

"But it was just guy stuff." Bobby offers lamely. "You know, that's just how guys sort stuff out."

"Guy stuff." I say out loud, letting them hear how dumb it sounds.

Guy stuff.

I don't tell them how scared I was to see Hanbin on the ground, his face bruised. I don't tell them how scared I was to see Bobby doing something he might regret. I don't tell them how confused and worried I was to see their years of cold war come to a boil.

But I was the dumb one for being upset, right? It was just guy stuff.

"Don't worry, Hayi." Hanbin reassures me again, his palm resting on my shoulder.

I'm not reassured, just even more confused.

How would anything have been resolved if they didn't even talk? I don't understand it. Sometimes girls do that, too. I know because Jimin had hit me on the head with a textbook, asked We good? And that was that. That didn't mean there wasn't still a fresh wound there. Temporary bandaids could never be a permanent cure.

"What are you two even doing here?" I choose to ask after letting it swirl around in my head.

"Dance team." They answer together, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"I joined a little while ago." Hanbin adds, rubbing his bruised knuckles. It must be hurting now. "I meant to tell you but you've been so busy."

Oh, ouch.

I want to ask if they're friends now but somehow know better. The feeling between them is different than it used to be. Not quite comfortable, but not the same tense uneasiness that felt like trying to breathe in a deep freezer. It was just... Just. Just Bobby. Just Hanbin.