The Whispers (Underworld 6) VK

4: A White Lie

The cafeteria was buzzing with the usual lunchtime chaos—students chatting in groups, trays clattering, and the low hum of conversations filling the air. Hansol, Chan, and Seungkwan had managed to secure a table near the windows, where the sunlight streamed in, making everything seem a bit more peaceful. Chan was happily diving into his food, Seungkwan was giving a passionate speech about something silly—probably about why pineapple doesn't belong on pizza—while Hansol casually sipped his drink, half-listening but mostly zoning out, thinking about his upcoming basketball game.

As Seungkwan animatedly waved his hands mid-conversation, his bag, perched precariously on the edge of the table, tipped over. A few items fell out—some pens, a notebook, and something that immediately caught Hansol's sharp eye. He squinted, glancing down at the shiny piece of paper that had slid across the floor. It was a plane ticket, and the time on it made Hansol's brow furrow.

He picked it up, his fingers quickly scanning the details. Seungkwan's name was there, clear as day, and the flight time? Yesterday morning. Hansol's lips twisted into a smirk as realization hit him. Seungkwan hadn't arrived in New York last night like he'd told the professor; he'd been here all day.

Hansol leaned back in his chair, eyes glinting with the perfect opportunity to call out Seungkwan. "Hey, Seungkwan," he said, voice loud enough to catch a few nearby tables' attention.

Seungkwan, oblivious to what was coming, looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Hansol dangled the plane ticket in front of him like bait. "Care to explain why this shows you landed yesterday morning when you told the professor you got in late last night?"

The cafeteria seemed to grow quieter as Hansol's voice carried across the room. A few heads turned, sensing the brewing tension. Seungkwan's eyes darted to the ticket, and then back to Hansol's face.

He didn't miss a beat. "And? What's your point? You wanna give me an award for 'Best Fake Excuse'?"

Chan choked on his drink, laughing nervously as he wiped his mouth. But Hansol wasn't done.

"I mean, if you're going to lie to the professor, at least be good at it," Hansol said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Running into class like your life depended on it, acting like you'd just gotten off a plane—what was that all about? Trying to make a grand entrance or something?" His eyes were now locked on Seungkwan, waiting for his reaction, daring him to clap back.

Seungkwan, not one to back down from a challenge, narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, folding his arms across his chest. "Oh please, Hansol. Like you've never told a white lie in your life. I just didn't feel like showing up early, so I made it sound a bit more dramatic. Sue me."

A few nearby students chuckled, but Hansol wasn't amused. "Yeah, well, maybe next time try to show some respect for the class. Or are you too busy being 'Mr. I-Like-to-Make-a-Scene'?"

Seungkwan rolled his eyes dramatically, scoffing. "Right, because Mr. Basketball Star over here never craves attention, huh? You've got half the school swooning over you every time you breathe, and now you're trying to give me life lessons? Please."

Hansol's smirk faltered for a second, but he quickly recovered. "At least I earn the attention. You? You're just desperate for it."

The cafeteria had gone almost completely quiet now, the tension palpable. Seungkwan stood up, his chair scraping against the floor, his eyes burning with defiance. "Desperate? Honey, I don't need to try. I am the attention. I walk into a room, and people notice. You just can't handle the fact that I don't care what you think."

Chan, who had been quietly observing the back-and-forth, looked between the two, sensing this was getting out of hand. He gave Hansol a gentle nudge. "Hey, maybe let's dial it down, yeah?"