the devil skates on thin ice ∙ myg ✓

2 ↝ the devil

The cafeteria of a university that specialises in sports is both a godsend and a literal hell on Earth. It really depends on the day.

The benefit is a healthy diet through balanced meal plans, each of which are based on the students' respective sports. It makes for easy maintenance, especially during competition periods when training is rigorous and prime health is of the utmost priority. Thus, the inevitable con is that there is not an ounce of sweet-tooth goodness in sight to murder any, "I've had a bad day," binge cravings. Ultimately, this enforces the bad day to become all the more worse.

You stare at your tray of two-thirds bean-based soup, one-third turkey sandwich, and cringe.

"Why does lunch have to look like puke that's been re-eaten and then regurgitated all over again?" you groan, prodding at an offensive-looking vegetable that floats in the insipid brown sludge.

Both Hoseok and Minah, fellow figure skaters from your team and your best friends, drop their spoons simultaneously. Hoseok spits the mouthful of soup that he had not already swallowed back into the bowl.

"And there goes my appetite," Hoseok mutters, raising a brow as he pointedly observes the spit that now floats atop the surface of his food. "Ha, now it really is regorged vomit."

"Both of you are disgusting," Minah accuses with an elbow jab into Hoseok's side, causing him to gasp and keel over. She picks up her sandwich and stares sharply at you, eyes glinting like the edge of a blade. "What's your problem? Is it shark week in the southern waters?"

Hoseok groans, forehead pressed to the tabletop. "Gross. Can't we talk about nice things while eating? It's not that difficult."

"Periods aren't gross, they're a beautiful, natural occurrence, you male," Minah sneers, taking a bite and then continuing to talk around a mouthful of turkey, lettuce and multigrain bread. "Dihd you wannah go to the convenienthe store ahfter thith?" Once she has chewed sufficiently through her words, she swallows, in all of her graceful mien. "They have those jumbo chocolate blocks labelled as two-for-the-price-of-one and bulk potato chips on a 20 percent discount until Monday."

Propping your arms on the table, you lean towards Minah, wrinkling your nose accusingly. "How do you know of this intelligence?"

"Because our cycles are in sync. Stop looking at me like I've committed a damn crime."

"You have. We're training for nationals."

"And no living and breathing female can oppose the desires of the reproductive deity that is Menstruation. Trust me, I've tried, and it only ended in even more bloodshed." Minah dips her lips down to Hoseok's ear. "A lot of the stuff, like a gushing, crimson waterfall of pure femininity."

Hoseok sits up straight as a pole, knocking Minah back in the process, who screeches and nearly topples off the bench. Planting his palms flat on the table, he pushes himself out of his seat. His expression resembles one of a man whose soul has just exited his being.

"I'm going to go dowse my body in a bottle of bleach," Hoseok bluntly remarks, picking up his tray and staring into the faraway distance. He cuts his gaze, very briefly, down to his tormentor. "I hope they've sold out of the barbecue flavour chips, and that your reproductive demon transforms into fucking Niagara this week, Bloody Mary."

"How dare you!" Minah gasps dramatically, delicately placing her hand against her chest in mock offence, though Hoseok has already turned on his heel and stalked away. You both watch as he dumps his mostly untouched lunch into the trash, visibly shuddering before trooping towards the exit. Minah swivels back to you, a dazzling grin colouring her lips. "So, how 'bout it?"