[ALSO KNOWN AS "MATCH MADE IN HELL" ON WEBTOON ORIGINALS]
He's. . . hot, popular, and proud.
She's. . . plain, eccentric, and persistent.
There's nothing common between them except that they hate each other. Not good, right? But why is he determine...
Erik could've been lying about Clark, but when Clark only stood frozen behind Lacey, I knew he was not as blameless as I wanted to believe. With his eyes fixed on me, he swallowed and twisted his mouth as if he wanted to explain something, but he couldn't utter a single word. I had the urge to shoot out a straight punch to his face, but I held it back and glowered at him instead. I hit his shoulder with mine as I walked out.
He'd been my best friend since we were kids. I had started third grade with an arm cast from falling off my bike, and Clark had been the one to help me with the note-taking. We would come to know other kids, but we stuck with each other, supported each other, and boosted each other when bad times hit. Remembering Erik's words gave me a feeling of betrayal. My own friend was the fucking catalyst for all this trouble. And I was done.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
-Kylie-
One bad thing about worrying was that it fucked up my appetite.
Lacey had told me about Tristan and Erik's fight, and now we were both dead silent in front of the dining table, barely touching the casserole. Mom was giving us weird looks, and she slowed down her chewing as she asked, "What's with the long faces you two?"
My sister shook her head while I cracked an innocent smile, answering, "Huh? N-nothing."
She and I traded a look after that. Mom didn't reply, but of course, moms have a sixth sense that lets them know something is up. The tension was making the air stifling. I could feel Lacey was hiding something from me.
After the dinner and chores, she bolted upstairs quicker than I could've expected, and I rushed after her before she could lock herself in her room.
"Hit me with it. What's wrong?" I asked, blocking her door with my hand.
Keeping her eyes on the floor, she opened her mouth slowly as if what she was about to say was so grave it was consuming all her physical strength.
"It's about Clark," she said in her softest voice; I almost couldn't hear her. "I think... I think he did something that might have to do with the fight. Tristan hates him right now; I can tell from the way they treated each other earlier. Clark refused to speak to me about it when I asked him. He... he only said sorry."
Asshole, I wanted to reply, but I didn't want to cause Lacey more pain by insulting him. I could sense her having an internal battle whether she should squeeze the truth out of him and potentially ruin their relationship, or let him slide and continue the way things were.
"Oh, Lacey..." I was at a loss for a proper reply.
"Everything's going to be okay, right? He must've had a good reason for doing whatever he did, right?" Her face was contorted with desperation, but she fought to smile. She always strove to find the good in people—her trait I admired. But as someone who had seen people take advantage of her kindness over the years, sometimes I found it hard to agree with her.
