My Brother's Girlfriend [LingOrm]

2

Ling's pov

"Freen, am I too harsh on people?" I asked my friend, who was rummaging through her locker, as I leaned my back against the adjacent one. My voice was laced with a mix of genuine curiosity and a hint of self-doubt, something I rarely let slip.

"Yes," Freen replied without hesitation, her tone flat as she continued her search. "In what context are you asking, though?" She finally turned to face me, one eyebrow raised, clearly more intrigued by the motive behind my question than the question itself.

"What? No way," I protested, shaking my head in disbelief. My eyes caught sight of Milk and Love walking down the hallway, chatting and laughing together. A perfect opportunity to validate my friend's claim, or so I thought.

"Milk, am I grumpy or harsh with people?" I called out, my voice echoing slightly in the corridor as I stepped away from the lockers to intercept the two.

"Yep," Milk answered almost immediately, with Love nodding in agreement beside her.

"Definitely," Love added with a mischievous smile.

"Then how are you guys still my friends?" I asked, more curious than offended. I mean, if I'm really that bad, why are they still hanging around?

"We got used to it after the second 'fuck you'," Freen chimed in, finally shutting her locker with a satisfied click, her lips curving into a knowing grin.

I rolled my eyes, trying to process this sudden consensus. "Okay, I'll try to be better, then," I declared, a bit theatrically. I snatched the book Freen was holding out of her hand, raising it like a trophy. "From now on, you can all consider me 'Ling the Lovely Friend.'"

Milk and Love just exchanged amused glances, offering noncommittal nods before heading to their next class. Their playful smirks lingered in the air as they walked away, making me wonder just how serious they were about my so-called grumpiness.

"Fine, now give me back my book," Freen demanded, holding out her hand expectantly.

"Nope, as a good friend, I'm going to carry it for you," I said, tucking it under my arm as I started down the hall. The usual banter between us was comforting, a familiar dance of sarcasm and affection that never seemed to get old.

Freen fell into step beside me, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation. "Fine, let's go. But seriously, why the sudden concern about being harsh?"

I hesitated for a moment, unsure how much I wanted to reveal. "Let's just say someone mentioned that they know I hate them... but I don't. I mean, I really don't."

"Who's the person?" Freen pressed, her tone shifting from playful to serious. She was always like this, ready to drop the jokes when she sensed something was bothering me.

"Just... someone," I muttered as we entered the classroom, quickly diverting my gaze to avoid further questioning.

Class started, and I took my seat, but my mind was elsewhere. Orm's words had been gnawing at me since she said them. How could she think I hated her? Sure, I was sarcastic and maybe a little aloof, but hate? That was a strong word, and it didn't sit right with me.

"You'll have three weeks to present your architecture prototype. It will be a group project," the professor announced, snapping me back to the present.

Freen and I exchanged a look—a silent agreement that we'd be working together, as always. But the professor wasn't done yet.

"I'll be assigning the groups," he continued, much to my dismay. He started listing off names, pairing students with a level of randomness that could either make or break the assignment.