Jaemin's not sure if he's ever felt pure rage before. He never really had the opportunity. Jeno always beat him to it. But he felt it the moment he was forced to watch Yoonah give up the upper hand. Blistering heat sweltered underneath his skin, coursing through his veins as his gaze followed the very knife that he had given to her to protect herself with scatter across the field. It was almost as if he were blind to everything else but his own hysteria—perhaps, for a split moment, he could sympathize with Jeno.

Blinking rapidly, he pulled his gaze from the infuriating sight and huffed. Snatching his knife from the field and shoving it into his pants pocket, he storms off. He felt the students' curious stares, but only felt half of the weight. He was positive the other half was certainly directed towards Yoonah and the debacle she made of herself.

He stalked back into the school. It was eerily empty, and the hallways were even darker than normal due to the fallen sun. Now it could only be lit by flickering candle sticks and sconces ornated in gold. Only the sound of his own footsteps could be heard as he finds his locker. He fumbles with the code, hands shaking for whatever reason before huffing in frustration and kicking the bottom of the locker. A sigh strangles his throat as he juts his head against the cold metal locker in defeat.

"Something on your mind?" A cold voice slices through the silence.

Jaemin turns slightly, still reveling in his own thoughts. Dark shadows flutter across his brooding face. He faces Jeno head on with a slight snarl, unusual for him, but all the more passionate in feeling. "What do you want?"

For a moment, frozen in time, Jeno just stands there and observes. He does that sometimes. It was a little unnerving because Jaemin was never sure what exactly he was thinking. Anything could be going through his mind, and the memory of his cold, calculating gaze roaming his naked body a few days ago is still fresh in his brain, and sends a shiver down his spine.

He waits until Jeno shifts his feet slightly. He didn't fight today, but his button-up shirt is three buttons loose and strands of platinum hair fall messily in front of his face, as if someone had roused their hands through it. Still, no words escape his foul tongue until Jaemin can no longer take the pressure.

"Did you come here to say something of use or did you just plan on ogling at me the entire time?" He snaps, breath choppy and uneven.

Jeno tilts his head and the corner of his lips quirk just the slightest bit. "Sorry. I didn't know I needed a reason to speak to my best friend." He says cooly.

Jaemin sighs, barriers breaking down again at just the sound of a few soft words. Again and again. "You don't," he mumbles. "But I have a lot of things to do today so—" He makes way to leave, until Jeno pulls him back by his arm.

He looks up innocently. "Like what?" Jeno seethes.

"Studying—"

Then, like a switch, Jeno lets go of his arm and steps back, opting to lean against the locker nonchalantly. Jaemin sputters slightly, brows furrowed at the sudden switch up. But he knew better than to think it was unplanned—in fact, he felt even more of an idiot for falling right into that trap. Jeno had lost Jaemin for a second, and he gained control over the situation immediately; just like that. It was that simple, and yet Jaemin has still never been able to master the act of insouciance.

Jeno continues with feigned indifference, voice light and airy as if continuing a casual conversation. "What'd you think of Yoonah's fight today?"

Jaemin stiffens automatically. He straightens his back and attempts to school his expression into one of solemnity. "You saw it for yourself. What do you need my opinion for? I'm sure you've already formed one."

Staring off into the distance and nodding, Jeno mutters, "I did."

Tapping his foot impatiently, Jaemin urges, "Well?"

Then he turns to him with that same, cold stare. "She'll die quickly."

Something foreign ignites in his body like a match thrown into kerosene, something vicious and violent and blinding that he found himself jerking up from his previously vulnerable position and rounding in on Jeno. He grips the collar of his shirt and pulls him close so that he can growl into his ear, "What did you say?" He snarls, eyes sharp as a thousand blades.

A smirk dances devilishly across the others lips. Bastard. "She. Will. Die."

Before he can even think, he pushes Jeno and shoves his back into the hard metal of the lockers behind them. He shoves him once more, hard enough so that his head will certainly bang against the locker, and he can't help but feel that sickly tingle of satisfaction at the slight scrunch of the blonde's nose—the only sign showing that he can feel pain. Much like the pain that Jaemin feels; the kind Jeno inflicts onto him.

"How can you say such foul things like that with a smile on your face?" Jaemin whisper-yells, voice tight and strained as he grips the back of Jeno's hair roughly. "You find pleasure in that knowledge?" He grits.

Jeno looks at him almost dazedly. "I do, yes," then he straightens up slightly. "And so should you. Her death will only make you rise higher. With me, of course."

Pausing, Jaemin finally realizes how hard he is breathing. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and he feels out of breath.

Jeno seems to realize this as well, for his smirk returns.

Jaemin tugs his hair harshly in retaliation. He shakes his head disappointedly as the sudden rage slowly dissipates, the flames being doused. "Are you happy now?" He asks, more quietly this time. His hand that was tugging on Jeno's hair falls limply to the side and he takes a small step back, looking down at his feet, almost in shame. "How long do I have to keep doing this for? You've seen what she's worth."

"Keep doing what?" Jeno asks all too hastily, and Jaemin knows why. This is a test. Unfortunately, it's not one he has the time for anymore.

"Lying to her." He responds just as quickly.

It's silent for a moment as Jeno stares at him. Jaemin often wonders what could possibly be going on through his mind, but he fears that he will never understand it, for all that escapes his lips is,

"You surely are bothered."

A simple accusation. One that holds a lot more meaning than one would think.

Jaemin twists his face in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

His infuriating sneer only grows more violent. "I do hope you're not becoming attached. You know what is to become of her."

He gives him one more nod before his eyes flit to the left of him, then he pushes past him and disappears into one of the dark, lonesome corridors.

Jaemin watches his fleeting figure breathlessly until he hears a soft voice call,

"Jaemin?"

Fuck.

Whipping his head around, a frenzied sense of exasperation fills him with dread as he follows Yoonah's figure, fresh out of a fight, approach him cautiously. She needs to fucking stop that—the hesitation, the meekness. Doesn't she know that's exactly what these ravagers feed off of? Her weakness? And here she is, flaunting it like it's something to be proud of.

Brows furrowed, he rounds in on her and points an accusing finger in her chest. Her face flashes with confusion as she takes an unsure step back, but he only follows her and grows closer. "Idiot!" He can't help but blurt. Too many emotions for one body—his mind is a mess, and with his previous scuffle with Jeno, he can't think straight. All he can remember right now is the genuine fear that coursed through his veins as he watched Yoonah getting beaten to a pulp. "You fucking idiot!" He nearly cries in frustration, voice breaking towards the end.

Yoonah finally matches his expression, or at least feigns it. "Excuse me?" She snaps in bafflement.

A laugh of disbelief escapes his chest as he takes a step back and rolls his eyes, lifting his chin and swiping a hand through his gray locks. Then he turns to her. "What the fuck was that match?"

God, I'm feeling too much, he thinks vaguely in the back of his mind. He's never felt this much in...well, in years. Or at least, he was never able to let it out.

Yoonah stares at him silently, looking at a loss for words, so he continues for her. "You just let him beat you. You just took it. What is wrong with you?" He screams, feeling every single emotion deeply in his chest. He hated what he witnessed, possibly more than anything. This was the first time he actually felt passionate about something.

"Do you not have a care in the world?" He goes on. "Do you want to die?"

Yoonah's lip twitch. "You ask me that a lot."

"Well you surely act like you do." He snarls.

Slowly forming a slight smile in incredulity, she retorts, "Oh, and you're so eager to live then?" She steps closer and raises her voice, pointing to nothing. "Then why the hell did you not fight back when everybody attacked you? They were going to kill you if I hadn't stepped in, Jaemin!"

Jaemin shakes his head. "That was different."

Not backing down, she continues with just as much pent up anger. "Tell me how! Because if I'm not mistaken, you could have actually died. Jeongin had no intentions to kill me."

"You don't know that." He rolls his eyes, voice lowered this time.

"I do!" She nearly shrieks. "I know because I spoke with him. I witnessed it all, and so did you, Jaemin. He was never going to kill me."

"Don't let him fool you."

She huffs in exasperation, hands coming down to her thighs with a loud slap. "So then, this is how it is? I am blamed for everything while you run off free?"

"Now you're making things up." He turns around and begins to walk away, unable to deal with the abundance of overwhelming sentiments. He was beginning to feel like he would explode, more than he already has.

But Yoonah chases after him and yanks on his wrist, pulling him back. Her cheeks are red in frustration. "Stop leaving!" She yells, a crack in her voice that tugs on Jaemin's heartstrings. She tightens her grip on his wrist and stares down at their shoes stubbornly as she rambles, "We're supposed to be partners, but all you do is leave me. Sometimes you leave and I have no clue where you go, or where you are, and I fear that you will not come back. I care about you, Jaemin. I want to be with you, for better or for worse. I want to learn from you. I want to fight by your side. I want—"

"Wanting will get you killed." He can't help but utter.

Cheeks heated and eyes sharper than a blade, she abruptly screams, "Shut up! Just shut. Up! I don't care," it seems as though she is past reason. Her breath is uneven as she pants and stares up at him passionately. Her eyes widen past insanity. "I don't fucking care, Jaemin. Stop warning me. I'm already here, aren't I? I know what can get me killed. You can get me killed. But I'm. Still. Here.

Maybe I'm stupid. Maybe I'm naive. Perhaps I will regret this. But I'm so tired of the uncertainty. I just want you." She sighs and then slumps slightly, the fight seemingly leaving her body from exhaustion.

Jaemin is shocked into silence for a moment as he looks down at her. His hand quivers in hers, her grip having shifted from his wrist to his hands in the heat of the moment, but she still holds it just as tightly as her breath comes to ease. He is at a loss for words. He's never felt the things he's felt today: anger, fury, hopelessness, passion. He's never had someone fight for him like this, and he wasn't sure what it meant. Yoonah's proclamation left him feeling a multitude of things, all of which he couldn't even begin to understand, but as he stared at her, he felt the fog that normally plagues his mind dispersing. He felt like he could see clearer, and for once, he wasn't thinking about what Jeno would do, or what he would want him to do.

For once he was thinking for himself, and what he thought was that he hated seeing Yoonah get hurt, and he hates that he hurt her. He hadn't even been aware of it—of the small things that affected her. He didn't know that she paid attention to those things, that she could be so observant, and it sent a warning flare in his mind that he desperately tried to push down.

He was tired of being cautious.

Every single ounce of animosity and bitterness that he had previously felt immediately dissipates and he intertwines their fingers and finally says, "If you care about me, then you wouldn't let yourself get hurt during a fight." His free hand comes up to her face, fingers gently grazing the bruise beginning to form on her cheek. He gazes at her with a soft gaze and witnesses a blush dance across her cheeks. His mind is running a mile a minute, trying to figure out why he finds himself leaning closer and closer and why he can't help the pounding of his heart.

"J-Jaemin--" Yoonah stutters, eyes darting towards his lips momentarily. They flutter shut as he tilts her chin towards him and--

"Yoonah!"

They both nearly jump inches apart as Donghyuck and Chenle come into view, lighting up the once dark and secluded hallway with boisterous energy and laughter until they skid to a halt at the sight. They share a suggestive look, wiggling their brows before snickering.

"Sorry for interrupting." Donghyuck teases.

Jaemin pulls his hand away from Yoonah's and ignores her confused expression. He folds his arms and paints on a half-smile casually, as if nothing had happened. "You geezers think I'm lousy enough to make out with my girlfriend in a public hallway?" He scoffs.

"Yes." They both answer immediately, simultaneously.

He rolls his eyes in return and they both chuckle. Chenle steps forward. "You're late for rehearsal. You're still coming, right?"

Yoonah blinks slowly before nodding. "Oh. Right, yeah."

Jaemin narrows his gaze. "You sure you should be going after that?"

Chenle and Donghyuck giggle behind their hands and make suggestive 'ooh's'. Donghyuck mutters, "Possessive boyfriend."

"Yeah. I'm sure." She walks towards Chenle, not even giving him a second to reach after her. Donghyuck sends him a salute and wraps an arm around Yoonah's shoulder before guiding her down the hallway while Jaemin seethes.

Jesus Christ, emotions are a hassle.

—

Being on this rooftop didn't feel as comforting as it had been before, and Jaemin couldn't figure out why. Or, he didn't want to admit the reason.

It was only the mere beginning of December and the air was already sharp and cold as a knife as he sat on the small, makeshift blankets and pulled his knees up to his chest, gazing up at the night sky.

Well, that was one good thing about Yongsan; the view. Attending a school in a rural town meant no air pollution, which created beautiful things that could never be touched by the malice fabricated in the academy.

Small galaxies littered the black sky, swirling in light milky patterns. Fallen stars melted into tears fell from his eyes, littering his cheeks as he heaved. It felt pathetic, in a way. Allowing himself to feel this much—anger, rage, self-pity, everything. As if he were crying to God, begging for his help. But he knew that there couldn't be a God, because if there was, how could he allow him to live a life like this? His entire life, he has learned that oftentimes it is easier to get by if you swallow your feelings whole. Any time his mother took him to see her 'friends' again? His brain automatically shut off. Everything in his life turned into as foggy haze that he occasionally tuned in and out of. It made dealing with things a lot easier that way. He did it when he was with his father, too.

He hadn't realized it before, but he did it with Jeno as well.

A part of him hated Jeno now, he realized. Perhaps hate was a strong word. He didn't hate Jeno as a person, not completely, because he still knew that a piece of the Jeno that Jaemin had grown to love was still there, somewhere inside of him. The side that had protected Jaemin when he was at his weakest. The side who had accepted him and all of his flaws and mistakes. The side who had risen him from the lowest points of his life.

The Jeno who had good intentions, at the start. But like any innocent soul who enters this academy, it leaves wretched and poisonous. Ripped at the seams, unable to be stitched back to its original form. Forever tainted.

Sometimes, Jaemin felt guilty for feeling this way. He was tainted too, even more so than Jeno. For he has been contaminated since he was a little boy. Born tainted—that's what his father would say—and he still dares to question Jeno's authenticity. But shouldn't Jaemin, of all people, remain religiously by his side no matter what sins he has committed? Screw God, for all he has ever believed in was Lee Jeno. Or at least he had thought. Perhaps he has always been blasphemous, because here he is questioning his moral faith in his best friend.

But he couldn't help it. He hated the way he was treated. He tried to remember good things of the blonde (and trust, there were many). Like when they were kids and Jaemin was taking a little longer to grow, stunted, if you will, and he couldn't reach high enough to grab the ice cream that was set on the counter. Jeno would come up behind him and pick him up off his feet and help him reach for the dessert before setting him down gently. He'd give him that close-eyed smile that could make anyone melt before they'd laugh, walking out together happily with two ice creams hand in hand.

Then, just as quickly as the flashback came, memories of when Jaemin would mess up, or do something wrong tainted his mind, and how Jeno would switch in an instant, like a lightning flash, and turn on him like a wild animal. He was reminded of the many panic attacks Jeno inflicted on him. The physical pain. The emotional abuse. The manipulation. Everything he had cast aside as 'just Jeno being Jeno' began to appear as abnormal, as if the fog was finally lifting and he could see clearly again.

Something was shifting the very foundation of his mind and matter. It felt as though his bones were melting and molding and reforming into a new base, constructed entirely of something brighter; stronger; purer.

Purer than anything he's ever known.

Like a dove first spreading its white wings, soaring in the open, bright sky.

And as he sat there in the soft, glowing moonlight, braving the sharp winds as tears stung his face, he wondered how he never noticed it before—the way Jeno has treated him, and how he's been numb to it all this time—and why he notices it now.

That's when the door leading to the rooftop opened, emitting a soft faint gleam and revealing the answer to all of his problems.

There Yoonah stood, frozen abruptly at the crying sight of him. A small laugh of belief escaped from his chest as he quickly turned back to the endless sky, swiping at his face as he tilted his chin to the moon, begging for an escape. How does he keep getting himself in these situations? Helplessly vulnerable. He hated feeling, especially in front of others, and the feeling of her being in the same vicinity as him was beginning to feel suffocating.

"Uh-" Yoonah hesitates, hand still on the golden doorknob. Her head is bowed slightly. "Sorry, I can leave--"

"No," Jaemin says, pushing himself to his feet. "This is your spot anyway. My apologies."

He begins to walk to the door until she blocks his pathway in between the exit, warm lucent light framing her chasis eloquently. Her cheeks are rose-colored from the cold wind that has already managed to slither around her frame and the heat coming from the hearth inside, seeping in through the vents. Her eyes are soft and inviting—slightly concerned, which Jaemin hates—and her lips are raw-bitten and—why is he looking at her lips again?

She places a hand against his chest to stop him. He towers over her, pausing his transition to escape and fights back the urge to roll his eyes and ignores the slight flutter in his chest. His heart skips a beat as he manages to choke out an apology. "I'm sorry." He says abruptly, voice weak and weathered.

"For what?" She asks quietly.

The guilt was eating away at him. "For how I treated you earlier," he hangs his head. "I lost my temper. I just—I get worried about you sometimes."

Brows furrowed, she looks up with those doe eyes of hers and Jaemin feels weak in the knees. With the softest tone, she barely whispers, "Jaemin, are you okay?"

He scoffs, his gaze immediately going to the bruise that adorns her cheek. Without hesitation, he cups her chin. It feels nice. To touch her. For touch to be welcomed. Not forced.

"You shouldn't be asking me."

Perhaps it is because he did it first that Yoonah felt comfortable enough with her next move, but Jaemin is still shocked when she reaches up and cups his own face. Her thumb sweeps under his eye gently, wiping away the tears that he was unaware were still falling. Numb from the cold; numb from everything, it was hard to feel the pain that still coursed through his veins.

"Jaemin, about what I said earlier--" She tilts her head into her palm and closes her eyes for a moment, taking a shallow breath before meeting his gaze. "I-I meant what I said. Everything," her voice shakes, and Jaemin can't help but feel everything that she feels. His heart boils over a flickering blue flame, burning at its hottest, ready to devour. Everything feels like it's going to explode at any moment now, and that thought is as invigorating as it is terrifying. "But," her brows furrow uncertainly. "I can't-I-I need you."

Knitting his brows, he lowers his head slightly to be closer. "You have me. We're partners." He tells her, and he means that. Truly means that, or at least, he wants to.

"Yes but—," she purses her lips, and looks truly pained by what she is about to say. He wonders what could hurt her so much. "I worry about you too, don't you know?"

The statement alone sounds much too intimate for his ears.

"What do you mean?"

She wipes another tear that falls from his cheeks. "This," she raises her brows slightly. "You're here, but not with me. Why don't you trust me?"

"I-" he stammers. "I-I do. Of course I do." He struggles to get the words out. He wants to trust her, he does.

He wants to let go of everything. All the pain, all the worries, all his ties, his past...

"How do I know?" She asks.

Jaemin stares at her for a long moment. He feels like he is deteriorating with every second. His skin is peeling, the layers that once protected him are falling with each word, exposing his very core to the girl standing before him.

The girl who taught him how to smile and laugh.

The girl who taught him how important a stuffed bunny could be.

The girl who taught him how to let go.

Allowing his free hand to cup the other side of her face, fingers in between her hair gently, he breathes out softly, "Because I want you, too."

The words seem to be carried by the wind, flittering between them like a song, tauntingly, teasingly before being carried away. Secrets only shared between them and the dancing wind.

Yoonah gasps. Her mouth gapes, opening and closing as if at a loss for words. Jaemin's heart is beating wildly against his chest. He isn't fully sure what exactly he's doing here, but he knows that he wants a change. He hates the way he feels when he's without Yoonah. When he's with her, it feels as though the light is finally breaking through a great wall of clouds that have been blocking the sun for eons. And he chases that feeling ravenously.

Finally, she opts to close her mouth and caresses his face with her thumb, rubbing soothing circles into the supple of his cheek. It feels...odd. Touch has always been something he was taught to hate since a young age, forcefully, but this...It feels nice. And unlike before, he feels more in control than ever.

Well, not completely. But he's feeling. And she's touching him, and he's not scared.

"How about this—" he starts, and she hums in acknowledgment, staring intently at him. Eyes raking his features, almost like she'd never seen him before. Not in this angle. "We start slow. I don't know what all of this means, at all, and I don't—I don't think we're exactly in the place to be making commitments." Meaning he doesn't know how long they will last—or be alive for. And perhaps he is still scared. Just a little bit.

A small smile graces her lips. "Right, because we're already fake dating."

He chuckles slightly, feeling just a little relieved at the change in tone. It was that easy with her. "Yeah. So nothing will change."

An eyebrow raises, "Other than the fact that you want me."

"Sure. Whatever floats your boat."

"Oh, now you deflect. I thought we just had a really nice, heart-to-heart talk!" She says playfully, her fingers pausing at his face but still embracing him.

Jaemin couldn't help it. He smiles. "You know, modesty would really suit you. You should try it sometime."

She slaps his chest half-heartedly. "Oh my god, I take back everything I just said."

"Too late," he counters much too quickly. Then his eyes soften as he takes in Yoonah once more. "But seriously. Let's make a deal."

"Another one?" Yoonah groans exaggeratedly, but she still looks up curiously.

"You fight back and actually try in your tournaments, and I will come to you anytime I feel overwhelmed, hm?" He tilts his head.

She stares at him for a long moment. "Pinky promise me."

He pauses. "What?" He asks in bewilderment.

She holds out her pinky finger expectantly. "Pinky promise me that you will come to me any time you feel angry, sad, overwhelmed, depressed—-"

"Depressed and sad are the same thing—"

"No they're not," she shoots him a sharp glare. "Promise me."

He counteracts. "Promise me you will live."

She takes back her pinky. "You know I can't promise that. Neither can you."

He shakes his head. "No, I can't. But we can fight tooth and bone to live."

"We?" She raises a brow.

He nods. "We."

Locking pinkies, they nod in agreement. "Deal."

Suddenly, Jaemin remembers the now foreign weight in his pants pocket. He reluctantly lets go of the girl before him and reaches down, taking the knife out and presenting it to her once again. "This is the last time I'm doing this," he says, a playful lilt to his voice. "Don't lose my knife again."

She takes it gratefully. "I won't."

Jaemin isn't sure what life has in store for him. Honestly, he never even imagined himself living past eighteen, but what he is sure of is that Yoonah is going to live. If there's anyone worthy of life, it is her.

Now he just has some bridges to burn.