𝐖𝐇𝐘? ━━ 𝗩𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗛𝗜𝗧 | ✓

13

❝ ALWAYS HOPING THAT THINGS WOULD CHANGE, BUT WE WENT RIGHT BACK TO YOUR GAMES ! ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡︎♡︎♡︎

I DIDN'T KNOW what got to me but I decided to take Yeonwoo to my old school, it was abandoned because of a fire that swallowed half of the building, the other half was untouched but none of the teachers or the owner of the school bothered to have it rebuilt.

My father had given me the privilege of owning a car and driving it, and being my young self, I asked for the men who were designing it to paint it green. It was my favourite colour, mostly because I remember reading somewhere that looking at something green could relax the eyes — it's been getting more and more irritated and I fear that I'd soon go blind. But I'm sure father was going to do something about it.

It was adorable how Yeonwoo kept taking naps in my car as I drove to my school, but it was concerning since I knew he always tried to stay up and do his school work. Guilt has been eating me up whenever I see the bags under his eyes or just how sleep deprived he seemed. But I guess that was the price to pay for everytime I dragged him with me — it was my only way of having him by my side without raising any suspicions from anyone.

I was careful to wake him up, letting him adjust to his surroundings first before pulling him out the car and leading him inside the school. It was dark and eerie but I still walked in anyway, I have no time to be scared of shadows.

While walking through the old corridors, memories of my childhood — I say that as if I'm as old as my father — began flooding my mind. We were walking through the second floor hall, the fire started at the fourth floor and only reached just below it, so everything around us were the same as the day I left it.

Hard nostalgia — I hated remembering past events, but those things couldn't be helped since it's part of human nature. Just looking at my old science class made me grit my teeth and fasten my pace. It was one of those classrooms that most students would despise because it was only filled with bad memories, always being scolded there, always getting punished in there. I hate it and I wished that the fire consumed that room as well.

Then soon enough, we reached my classroom. It was the same as always, the messy drawings of budding teenagers were pinned on the bulletin board at the back of the class, our drawings were still on the board, and our chairs were neatly aligned still. One of the drawings was of our teacher with horns and pointy teeth, a typical thing kids my age would draw adults that were the slightest bit mean.

I led him to the very back of the classroom and towards the lockers. Like muscle memory, I turned towards my locker. With a light push of my hand, I made him kneel in front of it and pointed. "Open it." I told him.