Chapter Ten

"You dropped your pen." His voice was shaking from halting a run. His smile was cocked in a twisting glint, and his eyes were once moving up and down my body. Beautiful in his school-tank, black shorts, and sweating skin. He was a first-year like me.

I remember having blushed. My hands moved away from the brand-new textbooks I bought and twisted my fingers to grab the black pen. "Wow I uh, thank you," I said. Hearts fluttered when accidentally touching fingers.

His eyelashes batted. Then he snorted and had moved his glistening hair away from his forehead. Slicked his hair back, he said, "Yikes I," then he had rubbed his neck, "I just realized that I ran a block to return a pen—okay, this is awkward, I—" I had found him awkward and adorable. Projecting and reflecting, I hugged my textbooks to my chest and smiled large myself.

"Yeah." Then I blushed harder, "N-No, it's fine. Thank you." Then I blushed harder than hard, "Let me know when you start your hero-origins as 'Pen Man'." I remember hating myself for laughing at my lame joke.

"Pen Man?" His strong arms moved to wrap behind his head. He was sexy, built, and the muscles at my shoulders sunk in awe. Beauty at first obvious sight. I said, "Yeah, I'd watch the movie adaption." Again, hating myself for another lame joke.

He laughed with me. He laughed at my jokes and my heart fluttered in butterflies. No one normally laughed with me. Then he went big and better, lamely adding, "Hopefully the journey ends in my final evolution: dun dun dun! Turning into a pen." I giggled and said, "The biggest and baddest!" He said, "The greatest notes, the strongest ink, and the shiniest shaping body." We both smiled.

"This is turning weird." I said.

"Totally." He said.

I tried not to smile. "What would be your catch phrase though?" He grinned large, "Pen Man speaks for itself no? It's so mysterious! It's arbitrary on its own." I laughed, "But you've got to have something!" He teased me, glared playfully, "Easy there. Don't make me ink all over you." I said, "What are you? A squid?" He said, "No silly. Pen Man." I said, "Then the in—" He said, "Yes, you wouldn't be able to handle my pen." We had both blushed immediately. No more laughter. His hand was back at his neck. I was hugging my textbooks tighter.

"I didn't mean—"

"It's okay if you did."

"What?"

"What?" I swallowed hard.

He tried not to smile. It went silent. I didn't want him to leave so I asked, "Who's behind the mask Pen Man carries?" The boy, I remember, had smiled. He told me, "Oki. The name's Oki."

I bit my lip. "That's an interesting name."

Innocent eyes, innocent smile, shy body language, the boy asked, "What about you?" Then he flirted and made my stomach leap in twirls. "What's the name of Pen Man's possible Mary Jane?" I said, "Oh." He said, "Smooth, I know."

I smiled and told Oki my name.

.

"Yo, quit staring at your ex dawg." Oki is now nudged in the arm, whispered to, and instantly brought out of his daze. Glancing at his friend sitting awkward beside him, Oki swallows a mumble, "I wasn't," before staring at you getting settled in the lecture room.

You're in the front, in the corner. He wonders if you sit there because it's easier to run out once class ends. He stares at the empty seats around you. Oki recalls the times he'd easily take those seats. Palms sweating, and his black pen being held, all hesitant between fingertips.

Oki's knee shakes. His teeth nibble on his lip. There's another shove beside him and his friend chuckles slight, "Stop that shit, you're making her uncomfortable." It's true. The more he stares, the more you notice. It doesn't help that Oki's in the same row of seats.

Time passes, the professor not present. Students pile slow. Oki, crowds around with boys high-fiving. Girls smiling and waving and expecting availability. Confused, Oki says, "Here I thought people would be hating me for what I did..." His friend snorts, "Most at the party find it funny, let's be real." Oki says, "There was nothing funny about it...I hurt her." His friend smirks, "Yeah now you've got a line of many looking to replace her, while others are curious over how you got away with it."

His friend nudges him, smirking. Others laugh and massage his shoulders. Oki forces a smile, pretends he's okay.

Shifting his gaze to meet you, the already wavering smile falls. He watches you duck your head, wipe your cheeks, and rush out of the room hastily. Biting his inner cheeks, his sad eyes catch your textbook that falls. The book is grabbed, but your lead pencil is left behind.

Oki stares at the pencil. He looks away, then look back at it. Looks away. Wiggling his own pen, the professor comes in. Other 50 students come in. A large lecture, only a few students in the loop of his dissolved drama...With a quick shift, Oki grabs his back, holds his book and pen, and quickly picks your pencil into his hands.

He rushes out the door and into the hallways. His head moves around, eyes prying over for you. Then he catches your back, your bag, your arms hugging your book. When Oki's running, his heart is aching in the terms of this moment feeling surreal and real. He calls your name when he's behind you. You freeze. "You uh, you dropped your pencil."

When you turn, he sees that you don't dare look up. The boy smiles, but it hurts when seeing how wet your cheeks are. Wiggling the pencil, and teasingly trying to make the atmosphere light. He sings, "Pen Man to the rescue~"

It doesn't work. You finally look at him but when you do, it's painful. "It's a pencil," you state, only to say, "Keep it...or toss it in the trash. Who cares."

Oki's hand awkwardly comes back to his side. Eyes bouncing off the ground, he watches your walk away turn into a run—finding a door to exist.

You break. You whimper into your palm and find knees to wobble as you walk. Embarrassed over the tears that leave you, aching stays. Running to find seclusion. The journey to find a place feels long. You run on the grass. You run on the small pathways the campus provides. There are students, hundreds of students that don't know you, don't know why you're crying. They don't care. Then you find a bench that does.

Hidden from shadows of the tree above, you slump with blurred vision from the warm tears that attack. Sitting on the bench, elbows rested on your thighs, your hands covered your face in complete despair. "Fuck," you curse, hating everything.

There's a shift on the other side of the bench.

Brows furrowing, peeking, you stare with watery eyes to catch another form. At the end of the bench, barely seen, he moves his head up from the bag he slept on before your intrusion. A red hoodie on, hood shadowing his sharp features. Black bomber, blue jeans. His eyes are irritated but when he meets your watery ones, his back straightens slow. Kim Taehyung.

"I thought you were someone else," he says groggy, just woken from a fast nap.

Embarrassment reaches its peak. You wipe your face fast, cover your cheeks and swear for different reasons now. "I'm so sorry, I," you twitch on the seat, "I didn't realize there was someone here."

"Whatever," Taehyung mumbles, getting up. He stands to his feet, sees that your crying, sees the pain. He pretends he doesn't care for it. "Just stay clear around 3, it starts to crowd." There's a part of Taehyung's gut that feels sad for you, wants to smile at you. He doesn't.

You seem to feel the tension, the heavy glare, the annoyed tone. Thinking it's because of the bench, you shake your head and whisper, "No, this is your spot. I don't want you to move just because I'm—"

"Why're you crying?"

Taken aback. You blink, wipe your cheeks last and say, "...Saw Oki...in class." It's awkward talking to his best friend. This awkwardness trails when Taehyung nods, stretches and yawns. You look at his body language and it doesn't feel right. You feel insecure.

"Get over it," he says suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"He cheated, I understand that it hurts 'cause I've been there. But running around campus crying is melodramatic." Taehyung puts on his bag, pulls up his pants and nods my direction, "Later." Then he plans to walk away.

You laugh in discomfort, "I'm confused...?"

He turns to face you. One of his eyes sleepily squint. Taehyung goes, "About what?"

"The attitude shift?" you whisper, genuinely curious. There's a part of your brain that warns you, tells you to shut up. Shut up, it screams. You don't listen. With a broken voice, you vulnerably say, "You were so sweet to me a few days ago, I—" Taehyung snorts, rolling his eyes. Your eyes water instant, fast, and more.

You know you should've listened to the screaming voice when he says, "People are sweet people are not. The world goes around even when you're sad and moping about it." I breathe, "You have no right to talk to me like that." He smiles tight, barely looks at my eyes and says, "But I do though. I have the right to tell another that they're being entitled, dramatic, and frankly idiotic. Free speech princess, free speech."

With a bitter nod, you stand away from the bench, bow dramatic and say, "Your bench, your highness." When he clenches his jaw, you further snap, "I can see why Oki's your friend. Douchebags scope out other douchebags."

"Like a weak woman scoping out boyfriends who cheat?"

Your smile falls. Your anger diminishes. Taehyung sees the break spewing from your eyes and there's a coldness to him that leaves. Eyes sparkling in slight softness, Taehyung whispers a pained, "W-Wait," when you find that cue to escape.