We Must Be Killers P3
Jongup was a sophomore, Junhong found out. He didn't know a lot of people when he first moved to their school. He was better at making friends than Junhong was, though. Things were easy for him.
Their walk back home had always been small talk. Junhong would tell Jongup what he thought about the boy who threw his lunch into Junhong's face and Jongup would mention that hot girl in his Chemistry class. Junhong tried asking the older why he was always there every day to walk with him. Jongup wasn't very informative though.
"Just 'cause," was his answer. "This is the road I take back home anyway."
"You're... not trying to be friends with me, are you?"
"Aren't we?" He glanced at the taller, looking surprised. When Junhong didn't say anything, he looked back to the road in front of him and answered himself, "Guess not."
Jongup started stepping on dried leaves, killing the silence. Junhong noticed he'd do this whenever he was bored.
"I-if you wanna be friends..." Junhong started. Crunch.
"Hm?" Jongup mumbled, his concentration mostly on finding dried leaves.
"I guess we're friends..." Junhong concluded. He was still awkward at making conversations, since he hadn't had a friend since kindergarten.
Crunch. "You sure?" Jongup asked. His eyes were still on the road. The leaves. Crunch.
"Yea... you're my friend, Jongup."
Jongup smirked. He looked at the younger. "Probably your only one."
And he was. Jongup made Junhong smile after years of suffering. He didn't exactly stop the bullying or talk to Junhong in the hallways. But when Jongup noticed the younger had a cut, he would drop a plaster into Junhong's locker. Junhong knew it was from Jongup, because it was always the same as the first one he got - a little worn out a tad bit too sticky, flesh coloured, although a bit too dark for Junhong's pale skin. But it always made Junhong feel even the littlest bit better. Like someone actually cared.
"Killing spree!" one of the jocks shouted one day before the last bell rang. Teachers were out for an emergency meeting, and Junhong was sitting in his class, dozing off when suddenly the door opened and a few juniors came in. A blonde one - the same person who beat him at the parking lot on the first week of school - went over to Junhong and grabbed him by the collar. He was choked out of class, smashed to a locker and trapped by a circle of well-built junior years.
"Time for a killing spree, killer," the blonde told, his face an inch away from Junhong's, breathe smelling like the tuna sandwich he had for lunch. "This time, you're the victim."
Punches were thrown and when Junhong fell to the floor, everyone joined in to give the 'killer' a kick. Crowds started coming over, chanting and laughing. "Killer. Killer. Killer."
"Come and give the killer the punishment he deserves!" the blonde called. Now everyone - most from the classes on the same floor, some from the upper and lower classes, those who got texts from their friends and those who followed out of curiosity - was coming over. Junhong saw Jongup. He didn't do anything. There was a sense of hurting in his eyes - like he didn't want this to happen, but he couldn't do anything. Jongup came to see if Junhong was still alive, and left wordlessly back to his class.
"You deserve this, killer," the blonde tattered at Junhong. He accepted it, but deep inside he knew he didn't deserve it. Soon, the chaos was ended by a teacher whose roar echoed through the hallways. Everyone went back to their classes, like animals going back to their nests. When the teacher saw the victim was Junhong, he helped the boy up and told him to walk it off.
"You know it'll never end. Just... wash up, walk it off."
Junhong looked at his reflection. There were more cuts than he had ever had at once. He felt numb. The same numb feeling he had felt before he met Jongup. The cold blood from his bleeding gums felt stale. It didn't matter. Nothing did. He'd rather die than think anything mattered.
The last bell rung. Junhong spat the blood in his mouth into the sink below him. When he walked out of the school gates, Jongup was there waiting for him.
"I almost thought you really were dead," he joked. Junhong ignored him. They started walking. "That's a lot of cuts. I don't have any plasters right now; wanna come over to my house? I got a whole stock there."
"Are you really my friend?" Junhong asked. Jongup looked up. Their footsteps slowed, the two looking at each other in the eyes. Junhong didn't keep the gaze and walked faster.
"What do you mean?" Jongup asked as he caught up with the younger.
"Do friends really let each other get hurt?" Junhong said it as if it wasn't the whole school who was bullying him. It sounded like a small thing, like Jongup stole the girl he had a crush on. Jongup didn't know what to say.
"It was out of my hands," he started. "You know I c--"
"Well look at what we have here."
The two turned around and saw the same jocks who lead today's 'killing spree' smirking at them. They froze as the juniors approached them. Blood drained out of Jongup's face. He was really dead now.
"The killer found a gay friend... How sweet," the blonde jeered. He towered at Jongup. "Getting chummy with the freshie, ey?"
Jongup didn't say anything. They didn't have to and things would still end up the same. The blonde pushed Jongup and he fell on his bottom. The blonde stepped on his chest, smudging the dirt all the way up to his face. "Well, a friend of a killer must be a killer too."
The blonde bent down and whispered, "You're gonna regret ever talking to him."
With that, the junior years walked away. One pushed Junhong, half-expecting him to fall but didn't do anything when the younger stood his stance. When they left, Junhong went to help Jongup up. The older wiped the dirt away with his sleeve. Wordless, they started walking.
When they reached the cross section, Junhong finally spoke up. "I'm sorry."
"Naah, it's not your fault," Jongup told as he turned his corner. "Plus, I don't do regrets. Not my thing."
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