Chapter Text
you’ve never had much of a will to live.
life was just that. what it was.
you go to school, you talk to people, you get scolded, you do homework, you go to bed.
something… is rotting in you.
you don’t really know what it is or why it’s happening. you do know, that you’re not a very good daughter. your grades aren’t that good. your family says you’re wasting their money.
it makes you think, “why am i really here?”
is there a point in your existence?
you used to have friends a year ago but now you have none. how does that work, you wonder. but that’s fine.
you don’t really care anyway. you’ve grown used to these tumultuous emotions spinning around inisde of you. they boil, bubble, and simmer. until it’s nothing.
you don’t feel anything anymore.
your life will never really merit anything. you know that, deep down. no one would really miss you if you were gone. no one would cry and no one would be explicitly happy.
your death would be more of a breath of fresh air.
something like that is hard to swallow. but you accept it with open hands. ready to accept your fate.
you don’t plan on living here any longer. you give yourself a year. enough to pay your parents what you owe them for being their daughter. you’ll work a job, you’ll study, you’ll act like nothing’s wrong.
you give yourself one year.
…
oh shit.
you just wanted to go to the rooftop to waste your life away during lunch. the sun warming your skin as you lie down on the cold hard concrete. it sounds like a terrific time instead of scratching your arms or sitting alone in the lunch room.
so you lie down on the concrete, the sun shining in your eyes. drinking in the sounds of the bustling students outside. you’re behind the entrance to the rooftop, lying down.
when suddenly, you hear the door creak open and you shoot up. hearing the screams of some poor soul and the scrape of shoes. thank god you’re on the opposite side of the entrance, separated by the wall.
you peek around the corner of the wall, seeing the expanse of the rest of the roof. you see a taller boy dragging another kid by his hair. and he’s beating the shit out of him. like. really bad.
you’re not interested in the one getting beat up though. as terrible as that sounds but you never claimed to be a good person. no, your eyes are drawn to the one currently slamming his knuckles into the other’s face.
he has purple hair and it looks insane, matted even. he obviously doesn’t brush it. his purple dye is fading at the tips and brown is bleeding from his roots. it looks. really bad.
you can’t see his eyes brim this angle. you can only observe the expanse of his back. he dons the same red uniform jacket as you. his hair a bit unruly.
your fingers curl into the wall as you watch him beat the boy up. there’s a feeling bubbling up inside of you. what is it?
disgust?
repulsion?
the boy steps away and holds his arms out. asking if the weak one has anything to give at all. to try and hit him.
and the boy, humiliated and battered, lunges at him. and you’re surprised to see that he actually does hit the violet haired one. the punches and fists are already weakened, fueled by hatred for the taller one alone.
it goes on for a bit. until the boy sighs and his hand curls into the collar of the bloodied one again. he turns him around and you can see his face now.
there’s bruises and bandages on his skin. he has pale grey eyes that pierce into the eyes of the one he’s holding. his eyelashes are long and his jaw is sharp. but the the thing that strikes you is the smile on his face.
“you’re so fucking disappointing ah? that’s all you fucking got?”
your fingers tremble as your eyes widen. the boy licks the blood dripping from his nose before laughing. as if satisfied with the outcome. with also being hit.
his hand covers the other’s cheek as he roughly pats his cheek like a misbehaving pet. grinning something vile.
“that’s how i like them hm? now fuck off.”
his smile immediately drops with the boy as he topples onto the concrete. said boy scrambles off of the rooftop and practically throws open the door leading to the staircase.
the lone boy sighs, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. as if already drained now that there wasn’t any stimulus. letting his nose drip blood down his face as he leans onto the fence separating him and falling off the school rooftop.
your heart is racing in your ears. the last thing you see is him spitting blood on the ground. the feeling of a prey being far too close to a predator is too much to ignore. you stumble back to hide and tuck yourself behind the wall as if you didn’t exist. to not become the next victim in this crazy guy’s affairs.
unfortunately, you trip and let out a little yelp.
the concrete scratches your palms as you fall. a groan escapes your mouth, rubbing your ass because you fell hard as shit. when you look up, you see him.
he’s standing where you were peeking from behind the wall. and fuck, he’s taller than you. he seems to stare at you with unamused eyes. his uniform is splattered with blood and his lips dangle a cigarette. his head tilted to the side as his eyebrows raise.
is he going to beat you up?
what do you do in this situation?
plead for mercy?
say you won’t tell anyone?
you think back to when he was beating up the other guy. the look in his eyes. his smile when he was beating him up. how delighted he seemed getting hit.
what’s wrong with this guy?
“you been there the whole time?”
you nod, because he probably already knew that. he lets out a little puff of smoke as he looks away for a moment. shit, aren’t you in high school? why is he smoking?
he’s just leaning against the side of the wall, effectively blocking you into the space. he casually wipes his bloody hand on his black uniform pants. taking puffs every now and then as you try to control your breathing.
you’re frozen on the ground. there’s something that settled into your gut. nasty and heavy. it’s trying to crawl out of you in the form of a scream or energy into your legs to run run run away.
but you don’t.
you can’t muster anything in yourself to run.
you’re too scared.
…
because it’s not just fear is it?
the way he had smiled while beating up that boy. as if he was getting a rush of adrenaline he couldn’t control. grinning as he beat his fists. even being hurt didn’t bother him. it meant nothing, in fact it made him feel even more alive.
what did that feel like?
what did being alive feel like?
you’d done your life by the books. done whatever to make your parents mildly satisfied. lazed around. fell asleep hours after you were supposed to. made friends, lost friends. disappointed your family.
you can’t remember the last time you could mimic the smile on this boy’s face as he was getting beaten.
you’re frozen to the spot right now-
when was the last time you’d done that?
when your parents found out about your lackluster grades- you barely cared. just laid in your bed emotionless. and when there was truly nothing- you resorted to other methods that you carried out in your bathroom to clean the wounds.
when was the last time you felt anything other than half baked emotions? conjured feelings that you’d gotten by inflicting them upon yourself?
you’re scared.
but that’s not all, is it?
so when his eyes lock back with yours- you have a trembling smile on your face. as if you forgot how to do that. pointing at his nose with a sure finger. steady and clear. despite the sweat that accumulated on the back of your neck.
“i’m gonna tell my dad. he’s a police officer.”
his eyes seem to widen as he mutters something under his breath. walking away and running a hand through the rat’s nest of hair. cussing you out and calling you every slur under the sun at your expense.
it’s true, your dad is a police officer. and you could get this kid expelled. unless his family was rich but he’d be running with a gang by now if he was, wouldn’t he?
your smile grows bigger.
oh.
how interesting.
“you’re…. mine.”
you whisper softly as his eyes snap back to yours. those grey fierce eyes. his footsteps stomping over next to you, clutching your collar as he yanks you close to his face.
his breath smells of cigarettes and something minty. you’re close enough to sniff the copper of blood on his face and something that’s probably uniquely him.
“i don’t fucking belong to anyone, you bitch.”
are you scared?
are you excited?
you can’t tell the difference anymore.
“you’re mine or i’ll tell my dad and you’ll get expelled.”
he regards you with a twitch in his eye. your noses brushing as you smile. you’re breathless. this boy has stolen all the air in your lungs. before his eyebrows raise and a smile slowly creeps onto his own face.
he seems… intrigued.
(the smile he takes on is barely any different than yours.)
“hm. i’m yours. is that right?”
he lets you go, released as you let out a breath. slumping onto the cool concrete once again. he stands over your form still lying on the ground. a foot planted on either side of your hips as he towers above. casting a shadow on your body and shadowing you from the light.
“you must be a stupid fucking chick. so i’ll be nice.”
he bends down to pinch your cheek. shaking your head around. like you’re some cute product that’s mouthing off. you’re elated. your heart beating so fast you feel as though it’ll pop out of your chest.
this boy is just so interesting.
“don’t fucking say a damn word to your dad or to anyone or i’ll beat the shit out of you, kay?”
his voice is deep but not gravelly. still a bit boyish. lips holding the same smile as he threatens your autonomy and your well being. but you can’t seem to stop smiling.
you’ve never felt more alive.
“okay.”
and there, without knowing this boy’s name, you decide you’ll give yourself one year. one year to do something fun before you die.
“but you belong to me right?”
the boy’s name is apparently seongje. but people at school call him wolf. you think it’s stupid but he said he’ll beat you up if you don’t call him by the stupid nickname. so you call him wolf.
he had stalked off without another word after you asked for his name. you wonder why. maybe he doesn’t like your offer.
that’s a funny joke.
(of course he didn’t.)
but you don’t really care.
you’re going to die in a year anyway right? you won’t even reach your final year in high school. less so graduation. so if wolf doesn’t like your offer then it doesn’t matter to you.
he’s in a different class than you. which meant that you were stuck to your desk for most hours of your school day. you’re the same year though, which means he’s a first year.
you wonder why he’s even enrolled in this school. people have gossiped around you about the apparent delinquent and he seems like he’s not the most academic. your grades were good enough to get in, but you’re surprised this lunatic even had anything up his sleeve.
wolf also wears glasses when he doesn’t fight. something you didn’t know because he had tucked them into his uniform jacket when you first met him. with his glasses on, you would’ve thought he was some sort of loser nerd.
but…
there are three things you definitely know about wolf keum.
1. he keeps wearing these horrible designer clothes.
2. everyone is fucking terrified of the guy.
3. his hair is pissing you off.
it’s the third one that really bothers you. how can he be so amusing and not touch up his roots? it’s really annoying you.
so you tail him when he leaves school. he doesn’t seem to care. doesn’t really acknowledge your existence actually. but for some reason, he does this thing when people stare at him for too long- he’ll start swinging at them.
you wonder why.
it doesn’t extend to normal civilians either. he doesn’t acknowledge elders who give him a snide stare or the scolding middle aged mother. he shoves his hands in his pockets and will sometimes blow a puff of smoke in their direction.
but when there are people around his age and actively staring at him, he’ll make eye contact. and his eyes will open wide. before he smiles. you feel a flare of adrenaline go through you at the sight.
it’s addicting.
the way his fists land upon others. the way he laughs when he gets punched back and ganged up on. the way he doesn’t care at all and only focuses on the person in front of him.
you feel a bit like a pervert. staring at him like this as he pummels people your age into the ground. but you can’t help it.
for the first time in ages, you feel something. whenever his fist lands, whenever he laughs, whenever he gets hurt. you feel each and every twist of his body in your chest.
it’s the third time you’ve tailed him this week. it’s the week after you made your proclamation to him on the rooftop. you’ve been staring for a while as he got pissed off. starting to whale on some annoying guys who kept pestering him about his reputation at school.
the fight ends after a good amount of time. wolf had a tendency to drag out fights longer than they should probably be. liking when they struggle and enjoying when the others try to break him out of his ‘you’re first’ trance.
there’s 4 boys lying around him as he sighs and wipes the blood on his school uniform. you think he has multiple pairs or he does his laundry everyday. if not either, then hes disgusting. but you’ve seen him snort out blood from his nose onto the people he fights so this isn’t that bad.
he pulls out his glasses from his pocket. rolling his eyes as one of the guys in the ground says that they’re gonna fucking kill him. wolf doesn’t seem to really care about anything.
“i know you’re there. come here.”
his voice is commanding. no room for any back talk. he has to be talking to you. your smile trembles as you step aside.
you come out behind the wall you were hiding behind. stepping deeper into the darkened alleyway and closer to the boy whos currently lighting a cigarette.
you’re some nobody. a girl who looks the same as everyone else. the only difference is that it’s spring and you’re wearing your winter style uniform. your backpack rests on your back as you step over bruised faces and twitching bodies.
you look at wolf’s face as he takes a puff from his cigarette. blowing it out as his eyes meet yours. you tilt your head as you play with you backpack straps.
“how’d you know i was there?”
“‘cause, you’re stalking me like some fucking pervert.”
well good to know you weren’t the only one thinking it. you stand a little in front of him, and he stares back down at you. he’d put his glasses back on after the fight. you think they fit his face but they’re a little big. you wonder if he’d beat you up if you said that.
“your glasses are too big for your face.”
“oh yeah? well your fucking mouth is huge. keep it shut if you want your teeth there.”
you’re so unbothered by the threat it hurts. you smile as you kick dust on the ground in the grungy alley. well he didn’t touch you yet right? so maybe he doesn’t hit girls.
you just grin at the ground as he smokes his cigarette for a bit.
“you got anything to not be a useless fuck or what?”
your head whips up. blinking, a bit shocked. is he… asking for your help? well he refuses to look at you so you guess he is.
crouching down, you take off your backpack and start peeling at the insides of it. humming a nameless tune as you fish out your baggy of supplies.
before you can get back up however, a hand clamps down on your ankle. you drop your baggy as you fall onto the dirty ground. the fingers are digging into your skin.
the guy is muttering something about someone being close to wolf. you can’t focus on it because you’re too busy trying to shake the grip off. until a designer shoe slams down on his wrist.
“didn’t learn your fucking lesson ah?”
the hand all but shrivels away from you like a dying plant. wolf’s shoe comes down hard and twists the wrist into the pavement as you scramble back up. your heart hammering.
you catch your breath, staring at the boy groaning in pain as wolf probably broke his wrist. you suppress a look of amusement by biting your bottom lip as you grab your fallen baggy. slinging on your backpack, you cock your head at wolf.
“let’s go somewhere else.”
your voice is soft but calm. you’re not scared or shaken up. you just don’t want to be hassled by more upset hands. wolf seems to understand this as he tsks and throws the cigarette onto the boy’s uniform. prowling out of the alley, you follow with quick steps. eventually settling in front of a convenience store.
it’s getting late and the sun is starting to swirl with colors. he settles onto the chair as you place yourself next to him. you hold your baggy as you look down at wolf. standing next to him as he lounges. man spreading like a dick.
“are you slow?”
annoyance strikes you fast as you roll your eyes. did he expect you to just do it without him asking? well by the way he’s just staring at you- looks like he did.
“not as slow as you apparently when your little zombie grabbed my ankle.”
it was his turn for his eye to twitch. your lips pull into a small little thing as you unzip the baggy. you hold out your hand to take his and surprisingly, he lets you without a care.
his hand is… big. bigger than yours definitely. they look a little messed up. the bones in his hand don’t seem to sit right. asymmetrical. as if someone had broken them and left them to heal on their own with no guidance or support. knobby and janky.
his nails seem weirdly groomed as if he picks at them a lot. your own softer and small fingers glide over the rough skin. as if the hands had been through far too much beyond their limit.
right now, they have blood and bruises staining them. indenting into the rough skin with red and even deeper red. it buries itself in your vision.
gently, you clean the machines he used to beat those guys up. spraying antiseptic and hearing the way his breath hitches. even big bad wolves still flinch hm? it makes a softer feeling pull at your lips.
you carefully wrap his hands with the gauze you had stashed in your bag. tucking the edges and making sure it’s clean. when you’re done, he retracts his hand to stare at it.
“hm.. guess you’re not a good for nothing after all.”
“what? too good to patch yourself up?”
his eyes flicker to yours. hidden but clear behind his stupid glasses. a flat look on his face. looking at you like you were stupid for talking back.
“not if a chick will do it for free.”
wolf keum is so interesting.
you don’t think he hits girls. that much is obvious. if that was the case, you’re sure a lot of girls in your school deserve a fist from him. but he doesn’t.
he lets you follow him around. only calls you a stalker. doesn’t even mind really. only pinched your cheek as he stood over you when you first met him.
but he won’t hesitate to show that he’s dominate to you? even after your first meeting? when he knows you have fascination with him?
your fingers dig into the bruises on his knuckles. pressing harsh unto the fresh and raw skin. you stare down at him and you want to see what he’ll do. will his rule break for a girl if you push him hard enough?
he jolts before shooting his other hand out and balling your hair up at your head. you seethe jolting with his hand as he forces you to bend your knees.
“hey. that fuckin’ hurt.”
a yelp leaves your lips as he pulls your face closer to his. you’re hit with the copper and tobacco as he pulls your hair. pain registers, sharp and shooting. you’re panting, trying to mitigate your own pain.
your heart’s pounding. you’ve never been hurt like this in your life. sure, you’ve fallen and tripped before. been playfully punched by old friends and your mom has tugged at your hair when she used to brush it.
never someone purposefully making you feel something. something that can compare to the feeling you get when you’re alone in the bathroom at night. holding your trusty sharpener over the sink.
your own lips widen and you reach up to grab at his own hair. your fingers curl into the brown of his roots. just seeing them pisses you off, makes you tug harder. he wasn’t expecting you to fight back. judging from the way he immediately throws his head back to try and get you off.
you-! fucking- weird bitch!
you pulled at my hair first!
you both look kinda ridiculous like this. these two teenagers tugging at each other’s hair in front of the convenience store. when he’s fed up, he removes one of the hands he had tangled in your hair to squeeze your wrist. but it just makes your heart beat faster.
wolf keum is touching you.
how is that possible?
wolf keum is trying to hurt you.
you pull harder at his roots even when both of his hands retract to squeeze the circulation out of yours. whimpers leave your lips because even though this is really fucking fun, it really fucking hurts.
when you cant take it anymore, you let go of his hair. you’re both panting and he locks over your wrists as you stare at one another. heaving as you stare down at the boy sitting up in his chair. somehow, during your scuffle; you ended up inbetween his legs. his thighs on either side of your legs where you’re standing in front of him. his glasses tilted and his hair is even more mussed than before.
his smile is strained as he eyes became a little red from how pissed off he is. twitching wildly as his hands clamp down even harder on your wrist.
your hair is also in tangled at the base. swirls bunching up on the side of your head. you’re a bit out of breath from how much it hurts. a daze coating your eyes as you stare down at him with a breathless smile.
“let’s do that again, wolf.”
“ah… look at that. you’re actually fucking crazy.”
he lets go of your wrists, yanking himself away like you burned him. and maybe you did. you’re sure no one has ever fought back against wolf like that. and definitely not from someone he doesn’t consider a threat.
he tells you to piss off and to get out of his sight. and you’re tired, the adrenaline running out quickly when you see him turn away like an embarrassed girl. his ego is probably bruised. being manhandled by someone shorter and weaker than him.
so you leave with your backpack on your shoulders.