opia

1. Meet... cute...?

Chun Iseul had no reason to be nervous. Delinquents were to her, at worst, teasing and disrespectful–playfully overriding any authority she'd reluctantly acquired and being just general nuisances. She barely spared them an ounce of her time. They had no interest in bothering her beyond terrorizing the more willing victims in her vicinity, and occasionally disrupting class–whenever they deigned to attend at all.

So, when Teacher Jang asked for her to bring in Min Hyun-Woo, the problem child of their class, she'd thought very little of it. He was childish in his viciousness with some of the other students, but he mostly kept on his better behavior around her, the class president. Still, he was brash and loud, crude and disruptive; classic delinquency 101.

“Nobody's getting hurt, right? Just leave it alone…It'll resolve itself. Honestly… ”

His bullying was something she'd tried to bring attention to several times, though none of the teachers had had any real inclination to intervene.
Iseul curled her lip, remembering the blatant favoritism the teachers showed to the more… financially blessed students at their school. The fact Min Hyun-Woo just so happened to be the son of the CEO of a major restaurant conglomerate was awfully convenient for him.

No consequences, no accountability. Just more trouble for Iseul on top of everything else. Class presidency was really taking a toll on the remnants of her sanity. She never should have let Yun-a rope her into it…

Her thoughts straying, she turned a corner, stalking across the yard and towards the storage shed, the resident delinquents’ hang-out spot and smoking area. Her nose wrinkled at the stale smell of cigarettes clinging weakly to the concrete wall of the shed.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Iseul stared blankly at the boy before her as she came to a halt.

He was straddling the torso of some student and beating his face in with scratched up fists, a sickening squelch emanating from the face of the figure on the ground each time he punched him. Driving the back of his head deeper and deeper into the hard earth, each blow decisive and unhesitating. Iseul gaped, eyes locked onto the bored scowl settled onto the attacker’s face, as if this was all just a horrible inconvenience.

The assailant slowed to a stop, landing one last strike to the student's nose before letting go of his vice-like grip on his stained collar. Iseul quickly stepped back into the shadow cast by the shed, trying to camouflage herself into the wall as he rose smoothly from the victim, nudging the limp body with the toe of his sneakers.

She caught a glimpse of dyed blonde hair underneath the blood as she stared at the unmoving figure.

Min Hyun-Woo.

What the fuck?

She clocked another body not too far from her classmate, face down and bearing the unmistakable dyed red hair of Min Hyun-Woo’s lackey slash friend, Jung Sang-Pil. Inseparable Thing One and Thing Two–apparently together even through this brutal beating.

The assailant wiped at his chin with the back of his hand, redness smearing. A splattering of blood was drying underneath his right eye, his chin length hair sticking to his jaw. He scoffed, lips curving into a snarl.

“What a fucking joke.”

The disgust in his voice was scathing, dripping from his mouth like venom. He shook his hand, angling his head back as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

Clunk.

His eyes flashed in her direction. The faint light of day gave them an eerie glow, brown turning to gold. Iseul tried not to squeak out an undignified sound.

She had shifted slightly, calves cramping from her position sticking against the side of the shed. A precariously placed pebble had moved underneath her loafers, betraying her spying. She cursed her comically horrible luck.

“Sorry,” Iseul mumbled. She cleared her throat. “I was kinda…looking for him.” She gestured hastily to Min Hyun-Woo’s prone form.

“Huh.” The violent boy uttered, eyes raking distractedly over her frame. His gaze reached hers, a smile lighting his face.

“You his girlfriend or something? Shame.”

Iseul repressed the urge to gape at him. Her voice came out much steadier than her inner indignance.

“I am not. Teacher Jang is looking for him.” The boy laughed; her stomach flipped at the bright sound.

“Well, Hyun-Woo is otherwise occupied at the moment! Aren't you, Hyun-Woo~.” He nudged said boy with his foot again, a little more forcefully.  His playful tone was at odds with his eyes—harsh and scornful. Iseul shivered, goosebumps rising along her arms and the back of her neck. Her glasses were sliding down her nose, sweat slick on her face.

What was happening to her? Was she coming down with somethi-

“You're Class B’s president, right?” he asked as he wiped his shoe in the dirt, apparently finding that to be more tolerable than Min Hyun-Woo’s blood on his person. Iseul nodded slowly, nudging her glasses higher. He smirked, head turning towards her again.  Dimples.

She wanted to scream.

Something else squeaked out of her mouth instead—a hiccup—as he approached her, his stride relaxed. Easy. Not a single care in the world. Her heart hammering in her throat, Iseul cranked her neck up slightly to look at him as he stopped (too close! ) in front of her. She could smell whatever cologne he was wearing now, could see the wrinkles in his uniform, the smattering of blood on his cheek. He tilted his head, lips pursing as he studied her. She didn't dare move. Her hands were disgustingly clammy now as he dragged his eyes around every slope and divot in her face, every crease and wrinkle in her own uniform.

Why the fuck was she acting like this? Snap out of it, Chun Iseul–

His hand came up to her ear, fingers grasping a small lock of hair that had unraveled from her braid. She's pretty sure her brain short-circuits.

“What–,” she starts, words clumsy and tripping in her mouth. He tugs. Her head tilts back at the gentle force.

She's definitely gaping like an idiot now.

“Cute.” He grins, eyes hooded as he looks down at her. He's a whole head taller than her, her face only being level with his broad chest.

“You're totally turned on right now, aren't you?”

What the fuck.

Her face must mirror her thoughts because he laughs, his other hand coming up to cover the lower half of his face. His mirth spills forth easily—the sound of it sending molten heat straight into her abdomen.

“Sorry-! You're just-... you should see the look on your face, god-!” His mouth settles into a wide smile, lips stretching joyfully behind his bruised hand. The fingers wrapped around her hair tug a little more, a barely perceptible pull.

“But, well—your eyes earlier were kinda… y’know,” he continued, leaning down to her eye level as he brought his mouth to her ear, his breath tickling. Iseul clutched at her skirt, certain he could hear her heartbeat thundering in her chest.

“You totally liked what you saw.”

She screws her eyes shut.

His retreat from her personal space is jarring as he steps back, taking away his warmth with him. He releases her hair slowly, his hand falling back to his side and into his pocket. Pointing behind him at the still-unconscious forms of her classmates, he drawls, “You should probably call a teacher for that.”

Next thing Iseul knows, he's gone—sauntering back to the school building as she leans against the shed, her hands clasped in front of her. Her expression has settled back into its signature smooth blankness, eyes betraying nothing of her inner whirlwind. Her hands are still clammy as she brings them up to cover her face, her glasses riding up to her forehead.

She's never living down the whining sound that seeps out of her.