submit requests here : https://forms.gle/ukfYGGjf34uBtFcr6
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
1:27 ───ㅇ───── 3:47 ↻◁ II ▷↺
y/n pov
the bike sheds are a more reliable source of information than the school newsletter. unlike those boring updates no one reads, you can find the real news scribbled in bright markers over the walls. breakups, betrayals, scandals; who's popular this week and who's dating someone new. by now there's more writing than blank space on the gray bricks. and we're supposed to clean it all up.
i let the bucket and brush i'm carrying drop to the ground. for a moment, i can only stare with horror, processing the sheer scale of our job. this will take us hours at the very least if we're quick—and judging from the way jisung is holding the hose like it's a dead snake, we probably won't be. in fact, i doubt jisung has scrubbed a single thing in his life. "this is ridiculous," he says, shaking his head. "this is just the school's excuse to make us do manual labor." "well, we better get started." i tug my hair free from its usual high bun, smoothing it with my fingers before retying it into a ponytail. i turn in time to catch jisung staring at me, a strange, faintly confused look on his face. "what?" "nothing. i've just . . . never seen you with your hair down before." i feel myself bristle. "and?" "what do you mean, and?" he pouts slightly. "it was only an observation." "with you, there's always an and," i tell him, fighting the sudden urge to touch my hair, to flatten it, to check it in a mirror.
it's true that i never wear my hair down at school, partly because the rules don't allow you to if your hair's any longer than shoulder-length, and partly because it gets in the way when i'm jogging or taking notes. "your entire existence is basically a run‐on sentence." at this, his expression readjusts itself into a familiar sneer. "and here i'd thought you'd already used up every possible insult in class." "don't worry, i can always think of more." i pick up the brush again and step forward before he can respond. "okay, let's split this between us. you can hose down the walls, and i'll scrub." "why me?" he demands. "why can't you use the hose?" i breathe in deeply through my nostrils. i can't believe the principal thinks this plan will help us argue less. if anything, my desire to choke jisung has only tripled since this morning.
"because," i say, keeping my tone as nice as possible, "to be honest with you, i don't think you know how to scrub." the corner of his lip twists farther down. "of course i know how." "right," i tell him, unconvinced. "i'll prove it to you." as he speaks, he pulls out a pair of black gloves from his pockets and starts snapping them on. "what is that?" i frown at him. "why on earth are you wearing gloves? we're not here to rob a building." "protecting my skin. i have very nice hands—as you have already observed in the past. it would be a shame to ruin them." my face flushes despite myself. "here." he throws the hose to me and takes the brush in his gloved fingers. "watch."
