Chapter 4

Yuno's POV

Mr. Fillips droned on about Shakespeare or some other dead white writer, but my mind is too preoccupied to pay attention. No matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about this morning.

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My eyes shot open. Moonlight streamed through curtains—still the dead of night.

I sighed, snuggling closer to the pillow in my arms so I could get some more shut eye. Except the pillow didn't feel like a pillow. It was much too firm, too warm. Smelled oddly like lavender and vanilla, too. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, the hazy shape of the pillow becoming more distinct.

I was right. It wasn't a pillow—it was Minji.

Panic surged through me as I tried to pull my arm away from her waist, but in her sleep, she gripped me like a steel trap, keeping us glued together. Sweat beaded on my forehead, both from adrenaline in my veins and the warmth of Minji's body pressed against me.

"Minji? Are you awake?" I whispered, desperate for an answer. I waited for what felt like an eternity, but silence was the only response I received. In all the fights I've been in, many including members of the school's varsity wrestling team, none of them compared to Minji's anaconda-like grip  on my arm. No matter how hard I pulled, she stayed firmly attached to me, all while in a deep sleep. I silently prayed to any god out there that would listen, hoping Minji would never find out about this.

While lying there, too aware of everything to fall asleep, she started to babble incoherently under her breath. I thought she had woken up, but her eyes were firmly squeezed shut. It was kinda cute. Kinda.

I couldn't help but listen to her murmurings, trying to decipher some kind of message through it all. Then, clear as day, I heard her speak:

"Yuno... Stay with me... Please."

My face turned warm as she uttered words I wasn't supposed to hear. I tried one last time to free myself, but my body gave out from exhaustion, forcing me to surrender to my unfortunate fate. With adrenaline still pumping through me, falling asleep became a fool's errand.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I snuck a peek at Minji's sleeping face. Her lips were pressed into a peaceful smile, and the soft skin of her cheek was illuminated by the moonlight, making them look like plump marshmallows. A flowery scent emanated from her silky black hair, allowing my heart rate to calm to a steady rhythm. Somehow, even with her hair a little frizzy and her oversized t-shirt a little wrinkled, she still managed to look so... so...

"Mr. Lin!!"

Mr. Fillips looms beside me, his disapproving glare forcefully tearing me from my daydreams. I notice the entire class looking back at me, confusion and fear etched into their faces as they anticipate my reaction. In the corner of my eye, Tyler McGraw and the rest of his asshole friends snicker to themselves.

"That's the third time I've asked you to read the passage," Mr. Fillips growls.

"S-sorry." I awkwardly clear my throat, trying my best to focus during the rest of the class period. But no matter what I do, images of Minji continue to flash through my mind. 

Fuck.

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I trudge through the hallways like a dead fish in the rapids, swept away in the current of students heading to lunch. My mind weighs heavy with thoughts of Minji—everywhere I go, there's always something that reminds me of her. Homecoming posters she probably designed. The mention of her name in someone else's conversation. Even during class, my mind performed all kinds of mental gymnastics, dragging my thoughts straight to her.

Integers. Minjers. Minji.

I feel a gentle tug on my sleeve, so soft I almost ignore it. "H-hey, um, s-sorry if this is rude to ask, but, uh, are you o-okay?" Winter asks, appearing next to me.

"Yeah. Just... fine," I lie.

"A-are you sure? You don't look fine." Winter tugs nervously at her sleeve. "Is this about... last night?"

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge at the simple mention of it. Before I could dwell for too long, an energetic Yujin plows through the wave of students, drawing all kinds of unnecessary attention to himself. 

"Hey, you guys!" he exclaims. "What's up?"

I quickly move through the lunch line and grab my food, the two of them towing behind me like baby ducks to their mother. My body shivers at the unpleasant image—and then the image melts, turning into her again. I bet she would like baby ducks.

Maybe the thoughts will stop if I rip my brain out.

Winter recounts everything that went down last night to Yujin—me meeting her at the convenience store, the altercation with Minji and the drunk guy, and how shaken up she was after the fact. The whole time, all I can do is listen, head permanently glued to my hands. Somehow, hearing it from someone else makes it worse—makes it all real. The bed I shared with Minji. The warmth of her in my arms. The whisper of my name as it left her sleeping lips. It was all real. And I don't know what to do with that.

"The s-student council president might've gotten h-hurt if Yuno hadn't jumped in," Winter says. I feel my face flush—not with pride, but something else entirely. Anyone else in my place would've done the same thing.

"Wow!" Yujin turns to me, eyes wide in admiration. "Super Yuno swoops in to save the president!"

I snap my head up to shoot him a glare. "Don't call me that. Please," I mutter.

"Okay, we can workshop the name a little, but..." He rummages through his backpack and pulls out a thick sketchbook, well worn and held together by bits of tape. With how fast he flips through the pages, I'm almost surprised at how it manages to stay in one piece. "...I think the SY on your chest looks pretty sick, no?"

Yujin pushes his sketchbook towards me with a big smirk. On the page is a pencil drawing of me in a Superman-esque get up, complete with a flowing cape, bulging muscles, a large "SY" on my chest, and an unfortunate amount of spandex. I stare at the drawing, not sure what to make of it—it's impressive, I'll admit. Strangely accurate, too. Almost scarily so.

"Oh w-wow, that's really well drawn, Yujin!" Winter beams. I can only nod in agreement.

"Thanks, I spent all night on it!" He rips the drawing from his notebook and hands it to me. "Here, consider it a token of appreciation for saving my life. Oh, and Winter too. And Minji's now too, I guess! You really are like a real life super hero!"

I reluctantly take the drawing from him. "Thanks. But I'm not a hero."

"Of course you are, dude! You're super strong, and brave, and courageous, and—"

"Stop," I sigh, growing increasingly annoyed. "I was just at the right place at the right time. Winter is the one who pepper-sprayed the guy. If anyone's a hero, it's her."

Winter's cheeks grow flushed. "O-oh, but I didn't—

Before she can finish her thought, the end of lunch bell rings. I shove Yujin's drawing into my bag and toss out my untouched plate of food, ready to get the hell out of this conversation. I'm no hero. Heroes don't go out looking for fights when they aren't supposed to. They aren't shunned by others, treated warily like a feral animal that could attack at any moment.

Heroes are liked. Celebrated. Looked up to as a symbol of hope. At best, I'm a walking caution sign, telling people to stay away from me. They save the day. They get the girl. They go home to their big, expensive mansion. I've already accepted the fact that I'm not destined for that kind of life, and I certainly don't need some starry-eyed kid filling me up with that kind of hope.

I feel a sudden shiver go up my spine, like a spider crawling on my skin. My eyes shoot back and forth. I swear, I feel something—a pair of eyes, sharp and piercing like a cat, lingering on me for longer than it should be—but when I turn around... nothing.

Just students. Just noise.

Still, the feeling lingers. Like someone—or something—knows.

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Minji's POV

I came to the library to focus on making some progress on prom preparations, but my gaze stays glued to my phone, lifeless and unmoving on the table. A part of me wishes my parents would just send a message already so the suspense of waiting would stop eating at me, but I know whatever they say will only fill me with more dread.

"Minj, are you alright, girl?" Hanni asks, gently nudging my shoulder. "You haven't blinked in, like, five minutes. I don't think that's healthy."

"I'm fine," I lie unconvincingly. My parents were always going in and out of the house, always catching another flight to go on another business trip. Sure, they're my parents and I love them, but they can be so exhausting to be around. I have to constantly pose as their "perfect daughter"; prim, proper, poised, not allowed to make a single mistake or have any fun. Their impending presence is dizzying.