Those Who Are Dead | KTH 🔞

18| Friends

"Sneaking on me again?"

"Seems like it."

"How much of our conversation did you hear?"

"Enough," he starts, then lets a small grin graze his lips as he slowly walks down the stairs, "She's jealous, by the way. You have a boyfriend and Paris gets a lot of attention. Crystal feels a bit left out because she isn't as popular with boys, which in turn makes her insecure. She wouldn't run to the first moron showing an inch of interest in her body if she didn't lack in confidence."

I'm suddenly annoyed to be talking to him. He brutally rejects me when I'm trying to help him, then invades my dreams and my thoughts like some kind of parasite, becoming the talk of the whole school to then spy on my private conversation like that wasn't enough. He's everywhere all the time, and I'm over it.

Deciding to ignore him, I walk down the stairs and hear him run in my back, trying to catch up.

"Sage, come on!"

I don't even pretend that I heard and stomp down the rest of the stairs until he catches up with me, grabbing my arm.

"What do you want?" I exclaim, turning around and glaring at him.

I don't think he was ready for me to be this hostile, because he takes a step back, blinking.

His surprise only makes me angrier. What did he expect? That he could be a dick to me and that I would run back to him with open arms? Think again!

"I – I just wanted to know what you thought of our prank."

I scoff.

"Are you seriously seeking for my approval?"

He freezes.

"No, I just wanted your opinion..."

"Well, I thought it was kind of tacky," I tell him, and his eyes widen.

"Really?" he asks, a smirk mischievously stretching his luscious lips.

"Yes. Kind of tasteless and vulgar, vandalizing the very expensive academy you go to with satanic symbols. Clearly you thought it would be funny to destroy the cultural background of a centenary institution. Well, I'm not laughing. Do you even know what the real meaning of the upside-down cross is?"

"Isn't it a satanic sign as you said?"

"It's not. It's called St-Peter's cross because St-Peter requested to be crucified upside down thinking he didn't deserve to die like Jesus. If you subside what Hollywood made of this symbol, there is no traditional evil that comes with it. It's just another old religious sign that looks creepy to people who aren't familiar with it! The least you could have done is understand the meaning of the message you were sending before sending it!"

"I didn't know you were religious," he declares, and he actually looks sorry.

"I'm not. That's not the point!"

I turn around, leaving him dumbfounded to walk through the lobby to my class on the first floor. Again, he easily catches up.

"Sage," he calls, while I walk through the agora, "Why are you being like this?"

I stop in my tracks and turn around once again, which ends up with him almost colliding with me.

"The last time we talked, you said you didn't need my help and wanted me to stay away. Well, that's what I'm doing. I'm staying far, far away."

His expression melts to understanding.

"I'm sorry about that, I didn't mean it. I was really upset."

I sigh, feeling the anger bubble in my chest.

"How clueless are you? You think you can just apologize and I'm going to forget how much of a dick you were? Things don't work this way. I wanted to be your friend, and friends let their friends help when they're upset, they don't shut them off."

I direct my feet in the opposite direction, ready to stomp away one more time.

"Okay."

"Okay what?" I ask over my shoulder.

"Okay, let's be friends."

I turn around and gaze at Taehyung with a raised eyebrow. The boy seems surprised by his own words.

"Really?" I ask, doubtful.

"Yes, really, I won't shut you out anymore. I know you were being nice, and I acted like an idiot. I'm sorry."

My stomach knots in sudden excitement and a wave of unwanted warmth fills my body. A few seconds pass and I just stare at him. His lips part and it's suddenly difficult to breathe.

"Alright," I tell him and stretches-out my hand for him to shake before I can fully process what is happening, "Friends?"

He shakes it, and his skin is warm under my fingertips.

"Friends."

A part of me can't be happier that he wants to be my friend. It feels right, like we were always meant to know each other this way; like even when we were kids, our souls recognized one another as a good amiable match. We know each other's fears and pet peeves, know our childhood secrets and things we never told to anyone else. All of this can't just go to waste.

Another part of me, the part that dreams of him at night and likes the feel of his hand against mine too much, thinks that it's a horrible idea. Just like two trains going full speed in opposite directions, a clash is inevitable, and when it happens, it will destroy everything and everyone in its range.