daybreak || minsung

Chapter 3

I stared at the door long after the beautiful strangers had disappeared from sight. I think I started to go crosseyed. At some point, a girl — whose name was Angela — reminded me that school existed. She had Biology as well, so we headed in that direction together. She didn't fill the silence with conversation, and I appreciated it.

When we got to class, I saw everyone was split up into teams of two. Angela sat down in the back, next to her partner, and I browsed the room for mine.

Jisung Han was at the only table left.

I walked down the aisle to the teacher's desk, covertly keeping my eyes on Jisung. He was leaning on the lab table, hands clasped together. He was wearing a white long sleeved shirt, a yellowish and black flannel, and pale blue jeans. Sitting on the stool, his shoes barely touched the floor, which I found cute.

As I passed him, he suddenly flinched away from me. His eyes darted to mine — they were terrified, like he was in a panic — and down again in a fraction of a second. I looked away, startled, and tripped over another student's bag. I got to my feet pretty goddamn quickly, and slinked to the front of the room. I heard a few people giggle, and I honestly couldn't blame them.

Once I'd made it to the front of the class, Mr. Banner signed my slip. He asked if I was all right, and I nodded like, Maybe. Of course he had to send me to the only open seat.

I kept my eyes down, pretending to adjust my jacket, as I sat down next to Jisung. I set up my books and got rid of my backpack, all without looking at him, but I knew his posture had changed. He was angling himself away from me — defensive, and unmoving in an eerie way.

As class went on, I couldn't stop myself from glancing at him. He never unfroze from his position, never took his eyes off the board at the front of the room. His hand, resting on the table and still like stone, was clenched so tight that his knuckles went white with the strain. I wasn't sure if he was breathing.

Mr. Banner's lecture seemed to go on for aeons. I touched my chin, expecting to have grown a beard. I looked at Jisung, and he was still stationary with his jaw clamped solidly to his skull. What was wrong with him? Was this how he normally behaved?

It couldn't have had anything to do with me. He didn't know me from Steve.

The bell rang suddenly, and I gasped, startled. Before I'd caught my breath, Jisung was out of his seat, gliding fluidly past me and down the aisle, disappearing out the door.

I held my book up in front of me so my face could do whatever it wanted. Had I just — for reasons beyond me — induced a panic attack in someone I didn't know? I felt kind of drunk, confused and drunk, and confused, and probably overreacting.

"Are you Minho Lee?" a voice asked.

I looked up to see a boy — pointy face, blue eyes, hair smoothed back into a pallid blonde wave. He smiled at me, showing a row of alarmingly straight teeth.

"Yeah," I said, smiling back, though I'm sure it looked more like a grimace. 

"I'm Mike."

"Hi, Mike."

"Need any help getting to your next class?"

"Um, I have Gym, actually. I can find it."

"I have Gym, too."

So we walked to Gym together. Mike was a blabber; he told me about how he'd lived in California till he was ten — so he understood how I felt about the sun — and that he was in my English class, too.

Just as we got to the Gym building, he said, "What's up with you and Jisung Han? I've never seen him act like that before."

I wrinkled my nose. Whatever happened with Jisung was noticeable, apparently, and not normal — which wasn't comforting.