Still With You | JK ff

Chapter 22 - Resurrection of the Past!

(Flashback)

It had been raining all week, dark voluminous clouds thundering threateningly all day long and creeping down low enough to almost touch, turning days to dusky grey and nights into nightmarish murk. And your week was shaping up to be much the same.

"You're her."

You were in the corridor of the Econ building, standing at the edge of the staircase, watching the rain get louder and heavier by the minute, contemplating running out despite it. Just as you were about to take the first step outside, with your bag held over your head as a sad excuse for a cover, you heard his voice. He was leaning comfortably on a pillar behind you, yet you weren't sure when he got there.

"Hm?" you asked, lowering the bag and clutching it to your chest, because your heart was violently hammering against it. It was the first time Minho had ever spoken to you, despite you having been somewhat around him since school. Earlier in the week, you had spotted him messing around with his boys as you were leaving the library and had stolen glances at him like you always did, while you walked to your class. Until the third time, when you looked up towards him and found his eyes dead set on you, following you closely as you moved forward. Just that much had left an ominous shiver jittering down your spine, because this wasn't how it was supposed to be, this wasn't how it had ever been. Minho had only ever really looked at you twice before, and one of them was when you had thrown yourself over a puppy his friends were torturing when you were in school. He had looked at you like you were a nuisance but had let you go. Other than such rare occasions, you had always been obscure to him, and preferred it that way, because it left your eyes free to stray towards him, watch him from afar, as you always did, for some reason.

So, to be spotted by him a few days ago, and then to be actually spoken to, was unsettling, almost unnatural.

"You're her, right?" he tussled his hair lazily, "Um, what was the name? W/N (Wrong name)?"

"I- um, Y/N," you bowed your head. You had hoped his eyes falling on you was a coincidence, and above all, you had hoped he wouldn't recognize you. But it seemed that he had.

"Ah, right. Y/N, the sympathizer." You looked up at him startled, and then quickly looked away when his eyes went to meet you, with amusement in them.

You bowed again, considering it the end of the conversation, an acknowledgement, an attendance marked in a roll call, and turned around, once again attempting to run out in the pouring rain.

"What are you doing?"

"Huh?"

"What. Are. You. Doing?" he stressed every word with a gesture, in frustration.

"Erm- I'm late for my part-time," you explained. "And, um- someone stole my umbrella."

A small laugh huffed out of him, not cruel, but pleased. "And why are you still here so late? The building is almost deserted."

"Mm, I uh- got an earful from Professor Lee for not submitting my assignment," you looked up at him meekly, from under your lashes, as he huffed out another laugh.

"That jerk," he spat out. "But why didn't you," he straightened his back, up off the pillar and took one tentative step towards you, "submit it? Little miss goody two-shoes." Another step forward.

You felt on edge, like prey being circled by a predator, waiting for a sudden movement, an ambushed attack. But whatever was happening so far was unprecedented. Rarely had you ever seen Minho without his little group tagging alongside him, either in school or at uni. And rarely had you seen him smile pleasantly, his jaw always held taut. And when he did laugh, it was mostly a harsh, loud thing, to tease, or to intimidate. You couldn't recognize or interpret the gentle chuckles escaping him at the knowledge of your little mishappenings, despite months of observing him.