Whiplash | jjk.

[01]: Pilot

Sweat was imminent.

There was steady stream of air blowing from the rotating fans around the crowded room, but it was not nearly enough to keep you cool.

Seoul at this time of year was hot. And being in the school gym for a sports lesson, amongst a large cohort of other sweaty teenagers? It wasn't helping you cool down.

Luckily, though, you had your friend to keep you distracted.

You were sitting down on the hardwood floor of the school gymnasium, beside your close friend, Mia. The two of you had been talking mindlessly, trying to think of anything other than the heat, while taking turns doing sets of sit-ups.

"So, narcotics?"

"Yep."

"I'd ask you why you want to go into something so brutal. But actually, it's very," Mia pauses to wince one eye. "...You."

"I know." you roll your eyes playfully, and rock back to begin your set of ten sit-ups.

"Are you even old enough? How will you fit that kind of stuff in with school?" Mia vomits her questions while supporting your knees with her hands. "Just wait until after school to do that. When you're older. When we actually have to worry about occupations and shit. We only have our freedom for a little while longer, anyway."

"Mi," you grimaced, finishing your exercise and replacing her hands with your elbows against your knees, while she leaned back to begin hers. "You know I'm not staying here. You know this."

Mia stops immediately and swings up.

"Y/N, you can't be serious about this, can you? You're joking. You're too young anyway!"

"Miiii," you whine. "Relax. Please."

She stops, staring at you with folded eyebrows and a pouting bottom lip. "Y/N."

"I was serious."

Suddenly, a sharp pain rockets down your spine.

A large, weighted exercise ball crashes into the curve of your back. A grunt comes up from the deep pit of your stomach as it knocks you forward. Your body is stunned as an electric stabbing pain vibrates your whole torso.

Fuck. Ow.

You groan, almost having the wind knocked out of you. You barely have any breath in your lungs. You clench your face in pain and turn around to see a group of girls.

They're from a neighbouring class in your grade. From the amount of time they dedicate to messing with you, it was safe to say that they're probably your most passionate fangirls.

They are standing, glaring and pointing at you. It was clear from their formation that the one in the centre clearly threw the ball.

Props to her for managing to move it, though.

"The fuck are you doing?" you asked, your words empty and airy.

"What're you gonna do about it?" the shortest one snaps back. "Fucking junky."

"Yeah. What's the campus crackhead gonna do?"

How classy.

"Well? You gonna call ya dad to come and get us?"

Her wicked voice echoes across the stadium, and right into your brain. You hoped that all the other students hadn't been listening.

But the ringleader's laughter is as contagious as it is artificial, as it circles around the group and all of them chuckle lowly in cheap amusement.