Legend [YEONBIN] ✓

seven ; soobin

I was exhausted from fending off the curiosity of my new classmates. I’d grown accustomed to the few get-to-know-you inquiries I always encountered as the new kid in class. But this time was different, more intense. And I laid that blame directly at the feet of one Choi Yeonjun. His stunt with the note had garnered me a lot of unwanted attention, and I was starting to regret saving his useless life.

The large indoor gymnasium echoed with the chatter of my classmates, mingling in small subgroups of friends. I stood in the back alone. My normal position.

The gym teacher was an unassuming man with the face of a toad and a name I didn’t bother to remember.

He informed the class that today’s lesson would be partner dodgeball. Everyone moans bounced off the high rafters.

The teacher handed out five red balls and explained the game. Students made teams of two, with one as the guard, the other as the guarded. Only the guard could touch the ball. If the guarded was hit, they were out. If the two separated, they were out. It seemed unnecessarily complicated to me.

The kids quickly began pairing up. Anytime someone approached me, I sent them a glare that stopped them until all the kids were paired except for me and Yeonjun, who walked toward me with a rueful smile. I frown deepened.

“I guess we’re partners,” he said, seemingly unperturbed by my glower.

“I can’t play.” My annoyance was so thick it choked me. “My foot hurts.”

“Did you hurt it when you fell?” he asked in a whisper.

His question confused me. “I didn’t fall.”

“Not today, the other night.”

My eyes narrowed as I tried to decide what level of idiotic he was.

“Begin.” The gym teacher blew a whistle. Everyone spread out, some already squealing in distress before any balls were thrown. The loudest of whom was Huening Kai who clinging to Beomgyu’s shoulders.

Yeonjun took the front position. I held on to the hem of his shirt with two fingers. They wove and dodged, I easily following Yeonjun’s jerking movements. He stumbled as he dove to the right, avoiding the ball instead of blocking it.

I jerked back as another ball almost hit me in the face. And I found myself annoyed at the prospect of being one of the first pairs out.

I could practically hear my mom’s voice. No son of mine would lose at a human sports game. Especially one as insipid as dodgeball.

“You have to keep your eyes open. Pay attention to who has a ball,” I growled through gritted teeth.

“They’re moving too fast.”

“Left!” I snapped. He scooted over, barely batting away the ball.

I felt the beginnings of a headache, and each time I dodged a ball Yeonjun failed to block, my stomach rolled. At first, I thought it was anger, until the nausea climbed into my throat.

“Are you okay?” Yeonjun asked, glancing back at me.

“Of course.” I took deep breaths to slow my rapid pulse. I normally never got sick. My bead bumped against my leg, like it sought to remind me that all was not normal.

“You don’t seem like you’re okay.”

“Watch it!” I pulled him to the side and narrowly avoided a ball. “Will you pay attention to the game?”

“Is this because of what you did the other night? How you fought that—”

“Would you shut up?” My annoyance made my headache swell toward a crescendo.