Supernova

3: Glacier

TW: Anxious tendencies, mentions of emotional trauma

"No, I really don't mind helping your brother. By the way, I appreciate the note you gave me on Friday. It made me happy."

I narrow my eyes. That doesn't sound right. "It was no big deal. You would've done the same if it was my bro- I don't have a brother. This isn't working, so good luck winging it, dumb-dumb."

When even my imaginary self gives up, I give my head a break. The possibly nonexistent scenario where Jimin or Taehyung tries to to talk to me has been on mind for the entire weekend, and every moment makes me physically ill.

The bell rung ten minutes ago, and I've been keeping a low profile. Earbuds in, hair practically covering my face, and eyes on my phone.

Well, at least that's what I pretend I'm looking at.

I've been staring to the side, desperately trying to locate either of them before it's too late. The lunch ladies are on strike this week, making the classroom fuller than ever before. All the noise distracts me, and I'm left hunched over and paranoid.

At the realization of just how much my back is hurting, I figure that I might as well get up and go to the bathroom so I can move a little. It's unlikely that Taehyung or Jimin will be sitting at my desk like cartoon villians when I return.

Turning my phone off, I stick it into my skirt's pocket. The cord won't get damaged as long as I'm careful, so nothing can go wrong right now. Yeah. We're good, Pop, I think, replying to myself.

If only that had been the case. The second I stand up, pushing my hair away from my face, I nearly have a heart attack. Apparently, Taehyung isn't too far from it either, though he regains his composure quicker than me.

Unwillingly, I tighten my fist behind my back, trying to keep the need to jerk my fingers at bay. He's so close that I can see every little detail of his face, from the moles on his lip to the one on his cheek. Our eyes lock for just a moment, and I'm surprised by them. Dark brown, one with a monolid and the other with a double eyelid.

He blinks, which reminds me to move again. I walk past him, ignoring his 'Wait, Sora-ssi.' The name doesn't even seem like mine, which prevents any hesitation. I notice some of the girls looking at me, confused, and I'm grateful that none of them say anything.

Way to go. They definitely won't remember or ask about that later. Good save, acting like you're terrified of the guy. I press my lips together, shutting the thought out. Yes, I'm not the best at coping with sudden confrontations, but at least I didn't push him away or trip over my chair.

I hurry through the building, avoiding students and the few teachers in the halls. The bathroom I'm going to is in the basement, since there's rarely anybody else there. Two out of five stalls are out of use, and there's more than one urban legend about it.

The second I reach that floor, I pause the music and pull my earbuds out. Maybe the legend of the murderous spirit in the bathroom has gotten to me a little, I admit it, but I prefer being prepared down here.

Since the basement is split into two, this side is small. One long and one short hallway, connected like an L. The other is connected to the indoor gym, meaning that this place only exists for maximum use of space. And for that bathroom, of course.

A couple of meters from the bathroom, I notice the squeaking of shoes. My heart lurches, but it's purely instinctive. I peer back to where I came from, but no one is there. Whoever is moving, they're in the shorter hallway I can't see.

Curious, I sneak toward it. The first and last time I saw it, there was nothing except for a stack of fold-up chairs and a cracked mirror. It doesn't make sense that somebody is moving around behind there, especially not while panting.