Another laughter. But Jihoon couldn’t hear it. His whole body shrieked, the pain was too
much that he thought he might pass out, he might die. But something stronger than pain
burned inside him, keeping him awake. Anger. Hatred.
Grudge.
When they were about to turn their backs and walk away, Jihoon caught Joonjae’s wrist.
“What the fuck do you—“
Jihoon lunged at him, crashing his head to Joonjae’s. He pulled away from Jihoon, screaming,
holding his broken nose. Blood and tooth spat out of his mouth. The others, shocked and
horrified, tried to pin him down. But he thrashed violently, freeing himself from their grips.
Joonjae turned on his heels to run, but Jihoon was faster. He grabbed Joonjae’s hair, pulling it
harshly, sinking his teeth to Joonjae’s shoulder. He pulled tighter when Joonjae tried to get
away from him, as if wanting to skin his head alive. He bit harder when Joonjae cried out,
dark red quickly spread on his uniform.
A hand choked his neck from behind, forcing him to let go of Joonjae. He was shoved to the
wall, his back made a cracking sound from the impact. He was slumped, unmoving, his hands
laid uselessly at his sides. His face looked dead, with all the deep bruises and blood dripping
from his temple, the corner of eyes, his lips. But his eyes were ablaze, fury raging in them.
Seeing his murderous glare, they backed away, running from him, dragging the whimpering
Joonjae.
Jihoon couldn’t get up. He couldn’t feel his legs. He couldn’t move. His consciousness quick-
ly drained from his body. He heard a voice calling his name, terrified. A calloused hand
touched his face gently, pulling his head slowly to rest against a broad shoulder, a pair of
strong arms holding him carefully. He recognized the faint scent of amber and vanilla.
Junhui.
He whispered to Jihoon in a broken voice, telling him it’s okay, you’re safe now, I’m sorry.
When his body started to get lifted off the ground, his feeble hand tried to grab what was left
of the box. And the tooth.
That night, with his body full of bandages and mind full of rage and revenge, Jihoon put
Joonjae’s tooth on the table beside his bed. He wished for his thumb, cut or torn or ripped or
whatever from Joonjae’s hand, so that he couldn’t play basketball ever again, so he wouldn’t
be the star of the school anymore. Taking his pride was the best way to wreck him.
Jihoon had the same dream.
Of the red eyes. Of the whispers. Of the voices.