the story of us 》sungtaro

8

"Is he dating that girl?"

I tried to point as subtly as I could towards Jeno, who was talking quite closely to an unfamiliar cheerleader.

Understanding what I was asking, Sungchan couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "No. The guys on our team are always talking to the cheerleaders."

He raised his brows and lowered his voice, moving closer so I could hear him as we walked across the dark parking lot.

"They talk and do things, meet up on the weekends, but there's no strings attached. It's like that for a lot of them." His eyes moved around, making sure no one overheard.

I was almost afraid to ask. "Do you-" I cleared my throat, trying again. "Do you talk to the cheerleaders too?"

I said talk, but I was quite sure the activities in question involved everything but that.

"Me? No." Sungchan chuckled. I wasn't sure why the simple statement relieved me so, but it did. "They're not my type."

My next question was obvious, but I still couldn't believe I was asking it. "What is your type then?"

He said nothing, only looking me up and down before giving me one of his infamous smirks.

That man had an odd way of talking to his friends, there was no doubt about it.

I was about to press further, but he kept moving towards his car.

It was then that I realized my grave mistake. But by then, it was already too late.

In my excitement to spend more time with my good friend, I had completely forgotten about his vehicular choices.

With wide eyes I looked frozen at his jet black motorcycle, shining under the moonlight.

I remember thinking my life was over right at that moment. I was so young, I had so much to live for.

"Is there a car cleverly hidden behind this death-bike?" I remember getting the words out, unable to forget about how I hadn't even written my will yet.

"No, of course not." Sungchan thought I was joking. "Hop on."

Despite the request, my legs wouldn't move. Soon my poor mother would be finding out that her only son was dead, crashed on a motorcycle.

"Have you ever ridden on one of these babies before?" Sungchan patted the seat. Perhaps he was catching on that I was losing my mind.

Stopping myself from taking a step back, I shook my head. "Nope. Never have, never will."

"Hey, Shotaro, listen." The giant moved towards me, putting what was supposed to be a comforting hand on my shoulder. "As long as I'm on that bike with you, you'll be perfectly fine."

I could already envision my funeral.

"I got you." Sungchan smiled, making sure I was paying attention. "I promise."

Perhaps he saw me soften a bit, and he took that opening.

"Look." Hand still holding onto my arm, he took something off the bike, handing it to me. "You'd be wearing my helmet. It's completely safe."

I had read enough motorcycle accident statistics to know that was nowhere close to the truth, but I chose not to argue.

"Alright, fine." I remember giving up, deciding that if today was my last day, at least I was in the company of good friends. "But if I die, I'm haunting you for the rest of your life."

I took the helmet, shoving it on my head. Sungchan only smiled, eyes creased in amusement. "Deal."