❝ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬❞ Two rebellious students carved a challenging path through life, resorting to theft and engaging in fights that repeatedly landed them in serious trouble, yet they always found a way to escape consequences.
Howeve...
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《 ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˊˎ- 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠'𝐬𝐏𝐎𝐕 》
Leather seats clash with my senses, a tinge of sweat evident within the back of the police car, notifying me that the car itself hadn't been cleaned in a long time. Though, I knew I wasn't one to judge, considering that I was the one in handcuffs and they were the ones enforcing the law onto me, however, the stench alone was enough to disgust me. I wasn't overly fond of cigarettes or the smoke that arose from them, which had always irritated my lungs whenever they came into contact with one another.
San, who I had only met nearly fifthteen minutes ago in an awkward standoff, had been quiet next to me, his gaze cast out of the windows of the car as the street lights became a blur along the highway. The pain of trying to weasel my way out of any of this became evident, and in the only way I knew I could collect myself, silently talking myself through whatever anxious worries came to mind. My life was changing, not that it was much better than what it had been, but a life behind bars was surely not what I had envisioned in my future.
I knew that Minho would be upset, if not completely taken aback by the news. I didn't want to disappoint him, or my friends, but worry settled well within me, and it became harder to shake the feeling of dread the longer the car's engine hummed with life.
"Contact Minho, get a letter out, he has money, everything will be fine." The words, as meaningless as they had felt, surprisingly comforted me. My voice was a near whisper, trying to reverberate soothing statements to avoid panicking. I knew that San could likely hear me, and that I probably sounded crazy beyond all of this self-soothing, but I didn't care. My own well-being was a priority through all of this, and for whatever San had thought of me, I well and truly did not care. His opinions were the mock of dirt to me, and I would do anything to fizzle him out of my life.
The car gently runs to a halt, engine dying out as the keys are removed from the ignition. I turned to gaze at San, who returned the eye contact, and I couldn't help but nearly glare at him. This had been his fault, after all. If he blamed me for a fraction of this, he would be stuck placing the blame on someone overwhelmingly innocent. Surely I would be out of this in no time, because I truly couldn't envision shared time with San without a buffer.
The air was brisk as it greeted my skin, the officer behind me gently placing a hand on my shoulder as he directed me towards the building, right behind San.
"You really think bringing me here will change anything?" His voice had sounded awfully irritated, and I couldn't help but smile. It was rather humorous knowing that the other had seemed so bothered by all of this, considering that, once again, it was his fault. He must've been circling around in a pit of shame and guilt, hitting himself on the back of the head with aired grievances, trying to console whatever worries he had by shifting the blame elsewhere.
The officer that had been leading San had to have been smiling, his tone having been irritatingly smug. I could only imagine how San must've felt after hearing his words. "Yes, it will, because you two are about to pay for the theft, robberies, and all the trouble you've caused. We have a good place for you."
