the reluctance in hyunsu’s voice is so obvious that it almost makes junhee want to throw his hands up in resignation and disappear back into his room. at least in his room, the only people who would come bother him are the people who already love him. there’s none of these dirty glances and cutting remarks in his room.
unable to avoid hyunsu’s displeasure, he stubbornly reaches into his bag to get out his notebook, determined to at least get some work done despite how much the other might dislike him. letting their friendship — or lack of it, he supposes — get in the way of their grades is not something he’s willing to do. the words might have been flattering, but the tone of voice that hyunsu had said them in is not nice at all. not even a little bit, and junhee can’t help his small little frown as he fishes out the book as well.
maybe things would be better if he just knew what he had done that was so utterly unforgivable that hyunsu still hates him to this day. he can’t really remember at all why their friendship ended. he kind of wishes he did, so that next time, something like that wouldn’t happen again. but for now, they’re stuck. they’re stuck with needing to work together, no matter what their individual feelings are. junhee might be rich and somewhat spoiled, but he’s not a slacker.
“i don’t like it either,” he sighs softly, shaking his head as he opens his notebook. “it really is a silly story. who decides to kill themselves over someone they met two days ago?” he purses his lips in a small pout, flipping open the play’s book. “still, we have to find something to analyze in this… i mean, i think we can probably argue that it’s stupid, as long as we can back it up.”
hyunsu doesn’t consider himself a very hostile person, he accumulated a decent number of friends and he usually welcomes whoever with open arms. he makes it a point to try and accept everyone regardless of background—unless there’s something actually morally wrong somewhere hidden there—but something about junhee just grinds the wrong gears, despite their friendship in the past.
maybe it’s a petty thing, his reason for blatantly turning on the other isn’t one that’s noble. still, hyunsu justifies himself with labelling junhee as another one of the privileged rich kids, not without reason. he remembers the incident like it was yesterday, finding out that he wasn’t invited to a grande old party—it’s a childish thing to get so irritated over, but that incident is enough for hyunsu to want to distance himself.
after all, if he’s banned from something as small as a party, then is it really worth sticking around when he’s clearly on a lower level than the rest?
sitting before junhee now, oblivious to what he had done, makes hyunsu believe it’s a better option to not regret his decision (but a part of him does, it’s hard for him to be completely satisfied over ending a friendship, it’s why he channels his bitterness in small jabs and sharp glares). at junhee’s response, though, hyunsu blinks. he hadn’t expected such an answer, it’s not a mindset he thought he’d hear from someone like junhee.
“you don’t, huh?” he doesn’t hide his surprise. “here i thought you’ll find a tragic tale of romance, two privileged teens—isn’t one of them still a child?—driven to death by the pressure of their families. sounds like a story that doesn’t need to be told, but oh well.” it’s a popular tale with many iterations, no matter how much hyunsu complains about it, it’ll remain as a classic form of literature. there’s nothing wrong with that (except there is, since he’s forced to analyse this now).
he lets out a huff. “i need a drink,” he says, more to himself. “anyway, since we’re on the same page, we can talk about how unnecessary that ending was. to be honest, their entire feud is a little redundant, but that’s another matter entirely.”
