5 years ago

He grits his teeth due to two things; he's currently bracing the cold with a thin coat that really should be worn when the temperature is ten degrees higher, and he is seething with anger, the feeling oozing out from every inch of his body as he trudges forward in the snow that is piling up each day. He is on his way to meet Yoochan - an older student who is in the same class as them, having to repeat after failing some classes - because he has some business to settle with him. In which, according to Wooyoung, is dangerous.

"I don't think it's wise for you to go and meet him," Wooyoung had said. "Why don't you just let it slide this one time?"

He had looked at his roommate with his jaw slack, as if he had just grown a pair of horns on his head. As he couldn't believe his own ears, he asked Wooyoung to repeat it. He looked hesitant, then sheepish, but still he repeated the same sentences. In shock over his words, he replied, in which might had come out harsher than he intended, "I worked on that project for months, and you're asking me to let it slide? I can't believe that out of all the people, you are stopping me from trying to reclaim what's mine to begin with. Whose side are you on?"

Wooyoung latched onto his sleeve, his eyes showing despair that San still could not see what he was trying to do; he was trying to protect him. "You know about Kang Yoochan right? That guy is a monster; he doesn't care for anyone who is in his way. There are even rumours about him beating his brother like it was nothing. If he could do that to his own family, he won't bat an eye towards a stranger. He's very influential too, that apparently all his misdeeds were voluntarily buried by his father. He's invincible, and he can do anything he wants. I just don't want you to get involved with a person like that."

He ripped his hand free from Wooyoung's grip before uttering, "I didn't want to get involved but he's just stirring up trouble. That was supposed to be my final year project! I worked so hard on it and he's just going to take it away from me? I need to set some things right." He walked to the door, grabbed his thin coat and as his left foot was stuck out of the unit, his roommate called him as a last attempt to stop him from going.

"Stop thinking that you always have to make things right; you are always thinking that you have to make things right. You think that you are always right. Why can't you listen to others for a change too? Your ego is not worth in this case."

His response was a huff and the slamming of the door to their dorm room. His ears burned red from what Wooyoung spat out, making his blood boil up to the point he felt his head could burst. He left the room in a hurry that he didn't realize he was wearing mismatched shoes; the pair for his white sneakers on the right, and the pair for his red one on the left. They don't even have the same design, yet here he is, stomping angrily, full of purpose on the university grounds, with feet adorned by different shoes. Even now, angry seems like an understatement.

After finding out about it, he demanded to meet Yoochan specifically, and he obliged, saying that he could meet him at one of the meeting rooms at the university's public library. Something out of character for the likes of him, if he could add, but the place of meeting is the least of his concerns. His concern right now is to request for an explanation and an apology, then taking back what is rightfully his. He will come back to the dorm, already received everything and Wooyoung will be sorry to him that he wasn't being a supportive friend.

He arrives at the library building; naked red bricks piled up to form the outer layer of the structure, their university logo placed in the middle on top of the automatic entrance. The building looks old but is a treasure for students like him, the contents providing the knowledge he needs to graduate.

In which, talking about that, he needs his final year project, and he is about to claim it back. He stomps inside, flashing his student ID card to grant himself entry, and he is greeted with the palpable silence. He slips past the gated entry, nodding at the familiar guard on watch, already accustomed to him because that is where he's been spending most of his time if the exam season is near. The library is deserted now, because people are already looking forward to the holidays. There are only a few students, who seem to be finishing up on assignments, needing references from the library.

He ignores them, making his way to the elevator to get himself to the third floor; where the meeting rooms are located. It doesn't take him much to find the older guy, the only person occupying one of the meeting rooms on the floor, legs on the table with his ankles crossed. He feels no need to knock, and when he shows his face through the small window on the door Yoochan is already gesturing for him to come in, clearly expecting him. But as he expected, the latter is playing dumb, dragging out the session much longer than necessary.

He skips the greetings, placing his hip on the table so that he would appear more dominant. He's suddenly conscious of their situation. Somehow, the feeling of him being alone with this guy on the floor, possibly the only people here is making him lean towards fear, although he tries to deny it and hopes that he can bluff himself through. He reminds himself that he's a black belt in taekwondo, that he can protect himself if there comes a time for it. Or he could always try to outrun him.

Maybe running away is a better choice than trying to face him now. He's not the bravest, in which Wooyoung had always made fun of him.

Then, uninvited, the warnings from Wooyoung ring in his ears and a fleeting thought of 'maybe I should lower down my ego this time and let it slide' comes to him.

But no, he needs his project back. Whatever it takes.

What on earth am I doing here?

"Care to explain why you're here to see me? You should be flattered that I made time to see you; I'm a busy man you see." He plays with the buttons on the cuff of his shirt, him strangely looking formal in a suit on a day like this. It's a Saturday, but what does he know about an heir to a conglomerate's daily schedule?

"Stop trying to play dumb," San shoots back. "You know very well why I wanted to meet you."

"No?" he pronounces it as a question before his eyebrows lift in a mocking manner. "I really have no clue on why it could possibly be." He touches the tips of his fingers to each other, already exposing his intentions bit by bit. He smirks, "Is there something that you want to talk about? Or, are you interested in working at my father's - ah, it would soon be mine by the way - company? Need a spot now that we're about to graduate?"

"I don't need a spot at your damn company," he says full of spite. "I already have various offers waiting to be picked." He knows it sounds smug, that he would never say it on any other occasion, but Yoochan is really brushing him the wrong way. He can't stand looking at the complacent smile on his face, and how he would love to wipe it off.

"Then what are you really here for, Choi San?" he narrows his eyes. The smile is gone, replaced with an earnest curiosity which could mean two things - he's completely unaware of the purpose of their meeting or he is simply playing dumb, which can go as far as showing how good of an actor he is.

"My final year project. You stole it, from the biggest things like the particular topic to the smallest things like the errors I did in data collection. Every single thing you took and you didn't even bother to change it one bit."

"And what proof do you have of that?" he replies, lowering his feet from the table and leaning forward. His face remains nonchalant - ever innocent. "I submitted my project and it was approved by my supervisor; I don't see a problem with that. Meanwhile, you haven't even submitted yours yet you're here barking to me like the dog you are. What if I say that you're the one who stole it from me?"

"What did you say? I worked months on that project yet you're here suddenly having completed your project and submitting it in a matter of weeks? It's so obvious that you took it from someone else. Does your supervisor know about this?" He stands up, towering over Yoochan who is still seated, hoping that his tactic of intimidation is somehow working. It doesn't seem so, because the latter remains unfazed - bored, even.

He drums his fingers on the table, up to the point it's driving the other crazy. He doesn't reply just yet, seemingly constructing a careful answer that would raise San's blood pressure even more. It does. "If you didn't want anyone to steal your project, might as well submit it before anyone else could get their hands on it. As for my supervisor; that was why we were always advised to pick a good one, and looks like I had found myself a good one. He's one that goes for reputation in doing one's job, so," he takes in a deep breath, acting as if he's the more deserving to be the annoyed one, "he's happy with my project. Even praised me until I hear it every single day. Why don't you go crying to your supervisor then? Is he doing a good job at being your supervisor?"

"She. My supervisor is female, and I don't appreciate you talking about her like that. I don't want to bring this to a bigger scale without meeting you first. I'm sure that you're a good person-"

The rhythmic drumming of his fingers against the desk stops, and the meeting room falls silent before a low laugh comes out of Yoochan's mouth. He laughs until tears appear at the corner of his eyes, and he makes a show out of it by wiping them with the heel of his hands. When his laughter subsides, he thumps his fist on the desk once before pointing his index finger to San. "You're a funny guy, aren't you? I never asked you to think of me as a good guy, because it's you. You're the good guy, even going as far as being considerate to meet me first. And you're smart too. Why don't you just whip up a new topic to study and then be well on your way? I'm sure you'll get it done before our graduation."

"I'll get my hands on the project that I worked on, no matter what it takes. Mark my words, you won't get away with this." A slight tremble, but he quickly disguises it.

"Even if it involves blood?" he asks. A taut smirk makes its way to his face, bringing the mood in the room to something eerie that San swears he can feel the room getting colder. The doors and windows are tightly shut, so there is no way the cold air outside could have entered the room. Seeing how stunned the younger man looks, he chuckles before standing up. "It's not that you would do anything, no matter what it takes. You would do anything that doesn't involve breaking any rules or law, because that's how much of a nice guy you are, isn't it?"

"I-" his voice croaks and he clears his throat, sentient of how pathetic he appears right now. He can't seem to summon the anger he felt as he made his way to this very room, but rather it's the uncertainty of what's to come for him is causing him to shake with fear. His roommate's warning rings again, too loud this time that he feels as if Wooyoung is together with them. Silently, he wishes he is and subconsciously he feels around to make sure that his phone is with him. He recoils as Yoochan advances towards him, his red sneaker already one step behind, ready to make a run for it.

Yoochan eyes his mismatched shoes with an unreadable expression. He leans forward until his lips are almost touching San's earlobe to whisper a warning or a reminder, or maybe even both mashed into one. "Don't start what you can't finish, Choi San. Remember that." He lifts up his left hand and grips his shoulder tightly until he can feel his bones. His breath feels like hot coal against San's delicate skin, the latter's jaw tightened as he feels his body freezing. "I was being nice about it but you're really testing my patience. You're treading on thin ice, Choi San. Turn a blind eye while I'm still being nice about it and don't make me repeat myself."

San shoves him away and grabs his collar, thinking on how he would deal with the consequences later on. Yoochan retains his poker face even as he feels the collar of his shirt crumpled, San's grip on it surprisingly strong. They stare at each other without words before the younger one decides that he'll be the one to shatter the silence. He has had enough, and he finds that it's not something that he will tolerate. Despite being overwhelmed with fear that his legs feel like they are turning to jelly.

"You better take that project back and do something else. I'm not going to change anything."

"I see you do have some strength in you, Choi San." He titters. "You're stubborn aren't you? You're a fucking genius so I'm sure you can come up with something even now. I've done nothing wrong, and the project was even accepted under my name. Why is that so hard to get into your head? Too much reading that you don't have any sense left?"

"You're the one without any sense left," he growls. "You're plagiarizing my work."

"You do realize that some people would love to see you fall once, don't you? It's no use to be so perfect all the time. You hide yourself with your own research because you're too proud of yourself. You don't even make noise about your project because you're scared others will steal it if they find out about it. You look down on me because I'm supposed to graduate a long time ago. You look down on others because you think you're better than them, just because you're smart. Luckily you don't have parents or the riches to boast-"

San releases the grip before using the same hand to land a punch on the older's jaw, his hand connecting with such force that his ears catch the sound of bone cracking. It could be his, or Yoochan's. It matters less as he is consumed once more with anger that is now directing his body, using no time to think. He clenches his teeth as he slams Yoochan against the wall, pinning him as he curls his fingers around his neck. If emotions were to be delivered through his eyes, one would see red fully colouring his irises and bleeding to his white sclera. His seize gradually gets tighter but Yoochan remains unperturbed.

The blood drips from his lips, dribbling to end at his chin before it stains his white undershirt. He licks his lips, having a taste of his own blood before sucking his lower lip in. Even with his throat closing in, he forces a laugh; jeering at the new side San is showing him. "That's- right- Choi- San-" he sputters, "show- them- who- you- really- are-" he wheezes, "stop- thinking- that- you are- all- that- just because- you- got some extra- two marks on your- paper-"

The corner of San's eyes and the muscles on his face relax as he snaps out of his trance, immediately releasing the hold he had on Yoochan's neck. Yoochan coughs out loud, sliding his back on the wall and plopping himself onto the carpeted floor. Despite being manhandled by San just seconds ago, his state looks better than the offender, who is now looking down at his hands, wariness in his wake when he realized what he almost did to him. He rotates his hands, inspecting his palm and the back of his hand.

Did I really do that? I tried to choke him without even thinking.

"Why, surprised that you are capable of such things?" Yoochan sneers. "You're just some pathetic lonely child with no parents who got lucky because you got that brain. Imagine what would happen to you if you're suddenly," he raises his finger to his head, before clucking his tongue, "gone up there."

"Th- that wasn't me. You provoked me and I just-"

"I provoked you and looked at what came out. You think you're mighty because you're always at the top of the class, but inside your brain there is just something waiting to pop off. We're all crazy in this world," he winks, "but it's just a matter of how much you let it show."

San buries his head in his hands, incensed no more towards the older guy, but towards himself. He says he would never hurt anyone with his hands, but moments ago he had his fingers around Yoochan's neck, putting behind all of his conscience and thinking about one thing: he needed his project back. No matter what it takes. So he lunged forward to him to do what he thought was the only way he could.

"Why... are you doing this to me? I have done nothing to you." He takes a few steps back as his hands blindly search for the door handle, pushing it down and letting the door swing open. He bolts outside, probably unprepared to hear Yoochan's answer, or he is simply running away from the man he thought he would never be. He doesn't even take the elevator, feeling that he could escape faster if he were to use the stairs. Dashing past the confused guard, he tumbles out into the snow, crouching over as his breath gets caught in his throat. His whole body is shaking, the events in the meeting room passing by in a blur against the white snow.

He takes a look around, hoping to absorb himself in the familiar situation of the deserted university compound. Being a building that is situated far away from the main roads, the library sits atop a hill, making it a lonely building with scarce visitors when it's not peak season. He scrambles to get up, already feeling the older guy coming after him, intending to repay for what he had done in the meeting room. He heaves himself up, wishing he could just roll down the hill to arrive down faster. He fumbles around for his phone as he feels it vibrating; Wooyoung is calling him. His hands are slippery as he tries to swipe to receive the call.

Sharp pain bursts through his system as a kick is landed on his back, making him lose his balance and the grip on his phone. The phone remains vibrating as it stays buried in the snow. He is sprawled on the ground, his face shoved into the cold ground. A foot pushes down on his hand, and he screams a silent one into the snow. He's blind, he can't see who the perpetrator is, but he doesn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"You should have let it pass by when I was being patient with you, then we could just end it like nothing happened. But you really have to go as far as choking me," he captures the back of San's neck with his fingers, as if demonstrating what San did to him; telling him that he will do the same to him or - the younger one feels bile rise to the back of his throat at this thought - worse. "Now it's too bad that you made me pissed off because I was just going to let you go. Since you're so intent on coming at me, I can't just see you leave. Didn't your roommate or any of your friends give you warnings about me? Just so you know, usually those who struck my nerve rarely leaves alive."

At that moment, what San wishes is that he has the strength to fight back, or at least the mind to run away. Because as Yoochan drags his unconscious figure into the car and drives to somewhere even he does not know, he has no idea that he will be leaving the place without both. Choi San will lose both his strength and sanity, if he even had those in the first place.