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++YOONGI++

"They're allowed to fight, right?"

Malia's voice reaches above the noise of the arena. The cheers, yells and announcer's voices penetrate the protective glass surrounding the rink.

"Yeah, but anybody involved gets a five minute major penalty." I tell her as she she stares out at the ice.

"I don't know what that means." She admits casually.

"It's called when the players do something to intentionally hurt each other."

"But they still... let them fight?" Her voice is filled with confusion.

"Well, yeah. Most of the time it settles whatever problem they had with each other. Sometimes it turns into an all out brawl and everybody gets a penalty. Sometimes they get fined. Crazy stuff. But usually, it's just five in the penalty box."

"Hmph." She hums.

I don't think that she entirely understands what going on but she's getting gist of it with my explanations. Not the specifics. Just the larger scaled things.

"Are you hungry or anything? There's concession stands and stuff out there if you want to check them out." I offer. My own stomach has been reminding me that I haven't eaten dinner yet.

I would have but me and Malia's study time lasted for a while. It was longer than I expected it to be. We did our homework together and had conversations in between. Those ended up going on tangents, taking up most of the study time.

Neither of us had thought about eating before we came. We weren't really worried about food. We were too wrapped up in our conversations.

"I'm hungry but I don't know how my stomach's gonna do." Malia says without even having to think about it.

"Come on. We can go to the concession stands, see if there's anything you like. I'm starving." I comment as I stand up.

Malia stands up after me and I step and lean back to let her out of the aisle. She walks by, her hips brushing against me as she passes. She seems to stiffen a little at the contact as she walks out of the aisle.

We out into the hall together and look both ways.

"I think there's food this way." Malia says, pointing to the left.

"I think you're right. There's hot dogs and hamburgers down that way." I start heading in that direction, being led by my hungry stomach.

Malia walks next to me, a half a step behind. She's only about an inch and a half shorter than me but I've noticed that she doesn't keep up with me while we walk.

I think that I just walk faster than she does. My leisure stride is still faster than hers. She doesn't do anything very fast except learn and dance. Everything else is at a moderate, leisurely pace.

She takes her time with every single thing that she does. She isn't slow, by any means. But if you watch her close enough, you'll see that she processes everything as she's doing it.

Not before. Not after. But during.

The closer that we get to the food, the more crowded the area becomes. People are close as they walk past each other. It's common for them to rub or bump shoulders along the way.

Malia grabs onto my sleeve and I look quickly over at her. It's such a casual action that I had to make sure it was her. She did it like it's something that she's always done.

She looking directly at the food stand, not paying attention to anything else. I don't think that she realizes what she's doing. Nor does she realize that she's gripping my arm like I'm going to fly away if she doesn't.

FRAT LINE|Year 2&3-KNJ✔️Where stories live. Discover now