honeybee || jong gun

ii

After giving a half-hearted "I have to go to the bathroom" to your teacher, you set out to find Gun.

Which was a lot harder than you thought it would be.

Jaewon High wasn't that big of a school, and you knew where everything was, so why couldn't you find him? You peeked through the windows of each classes, and checked all of the restrooms, and he wasn't there. You stood in the middle of the hallway, pulling at your roots in frustration.

You shouldn't have tried to find him anyway, like Mae said, he probably just wants to kill whoever his soulmate is—you. But... if you could just get one good look at his face, then you could leave well enough alone. You released your hair, and took a breath.

If Gun was looking for the people who were there that night, then he'll find you on his own volition. And maybe you'll feel less pathetic then. So, you turned around and decided to go back to your dept.

Those plans were quickly crushed when you collided head on with someone.

"So, you were out here," when he said your name, you felt your face grow warm and... and found yourself wanting him to say it more. That's a gross thought.

You stepped back from him, and looked at his face. Really, looked at it. The way he was devoid of laugh lines, and how he had a small scar that peaked out from beneath his glasses. With them on, the scar was hardly noticeable unless you were looking for it.

His forearms were tattooed, an illuminati on his left and a rose with thorns on his right, and animal baring its teeth on both. They were mixed into a sleeve tattoo, one that resembled a mosaic, and... and he was still wearing his sunglasses. His eyebrows almost dipped below them, from how down turned they were.

He was staring at you too, and as soon as you realized you basically ogling him, you turned your gaze downward to the floor. You noticed that he was holding a book in his hand, one that looked suspiciously like your sketchbook.

"You... went through my bag?" you asked, staring at the pale blue cover. Shit, if he looked in it, he would see countless drawings of him, all of which were wrong, but damn close. You trailed your eyes back up to his face, "So, you were looking for me then?"

"It was left open on your desk and," he presented it to you, his other hand resting in his pockets, "I recognized myself."

Ah, well, fuck.

"I... I see," you grabbed it, ignoring how your own hands were shaking. "Thank you for returning it to me." Your hands dropped to your side, and you tried to steady your heart. "And, sorry for drawing you without your permission." Although... it would've been weirder if you did ask for permission.

Your apology was greeted with an—"You're a bad liar," he turned around and began walking away, with simple nonverbal instructions that screamed 'come follow me.' You obliged, keeping a good meter between the two of you.

"Is this about that night at the karaoke bar?" you questioned, walking through the corridors. "If so, I haven't told anyone about it!" You almost yelled, hushing your voice at the last minute. You knew what this was really about, but you weren't about to let him know that.

It's not lying, just... omitting information. Playing dumb. Everyone can do that.

"Keep it down, or else," he tacked on at the end. So, that's what Mae meant when she said threats. They were much more tactful than what you thought they would be.

You thinned your lips and stared at his back. It was broad, strong, and you could see the way his shoulders moved while he walked. You noticed that he had a slight accent when he spoke, one that was carefully concealed. If you weren't focusing on every single thing about him, you wouldn't have even noticed. It was nice, you decided.