Sweet Bites

Chapter 02: Brave

Seoyeon exited the classroom, pulling her phone from her skirt pocket. Aira had texted, her headache easing, suggesting a visit if Seoyeon let her know beforehand. Seoyeon pocketed the phone; the classroom emptied as students headed to lunch. She considered joining Aira, but her appetite was minimal. Instead, she opted for a solo exploration of the campus.

She borrowed a book from the library, then ascended to the rooftop, captivated by the panoramic view of Yongha University and the expansive sky. Lost in the beauty of the scene, she spent the remainder of her free time there, the soft wind and the music in her earbuds creating a tranquil atmosphere.

"Alright, time's up," she murmured, starting toward her next class. But she halted, spotting him. He stood watching her, a serious gaze fixed on her, his left foot tapping, hands in his pockets. He hadn't learned his lesson. Seoyeon clenched her fists. He offered an evil smirk, slowly approaching.

She rolled her eyes, heading for the door, but he grabbed her wrist, yanking her back. "Don't walk away from me," he snarled.

Seoyeon yanked her wrist free, her glare intense. "I told you to stay away from me, pervert!" she yelled. His face darkened; he grabbed her uniform collar, pulling her close.

"You think after you humiliated me in front of my friends, after what you did… down there… I'd let it go?" he hissed, his gaze intense, making her gulp. She regretted her impulsive actions that morning. Of all the escape routes, why had she chosen that one?

"It's not my fault! You did that to yourself! If you hadn't kissed me, none of this would have happened. Now, let go," she retorted, slapping his hands away and fleeing the rooftop. She glanced at her watch—five minutes until class—but was stopped again, this time dragged into a small, dark storage room. Before she could react, his hand was on her throat, not choking her, but a clear threat.

He backed her against the wall. She struggled against his grip, but he was too strong. Anticipating her attempt to kick him, he stepped on her feet, using his free hand to pin her wrists above her head.

"Let go of me!" she growled, spotting the faint sound of approaching footsteps. She turned to yell for help, but his hand covered her mouth, muffling her cries. The sounds faded.

He removed his hand when she fell silent, their gazes locking.

"What are you planning this time? Are you going to kill me?" she asked, fear battling with defiance. He didn't want to kill her; he just wanted to instill fear, like he did with the other students.

"I'm considering my options now that you're alone with me," he purred, his lips brushing her ear. "And the idea of killing you… is intriguing." His cold whisper stole her breath. He pulled back slightly to observe her fear, a hum of satisfaction escaping his lips.

"Seriously? You're going to kill me?" she asked, disbelief battling with terror. He stared at her before releasing her, a chuckle escaping his lips. Her confusion and anger ignited. She hated being mocked. She launched herself at him, a furious whirlwind.

"I HATE YOU!" she roared, pulling his hair and slapping his face repeatedly.

"Yah! Get off me, you monkey nerd! YAH—" His hands went to her wrists, then to her waist, attempting to pull her away, but she wrapped her legs around him.

"I WON'T UNTIL YOU'RE BALD, YOU PERVERT!" she snarled, pulling his hair harder. He pressed her against the wall, her moan of pain echoing as her glasses shattered on the floor. She let go of his hair to touch her aching back, but he moved to remove her legs. Enraged, she grabbed his neck and bit him.

"You think you're the only one who can bite?!" he roared, pressing her harder against the wall, his head diving toward her neck.

"Aw!" she groaned, a tear escaping. Their positions were awkward, a brutal struggle that might be misinterpreted by anyone who saw them. They were locked in a violent, desperate dance, until the door slammed shut. They stopped, staring at each other with wide eyes, the reality of their situation hitting them both at once. They both scrambled for the doorknob.

It was locked.

What are they gonna do now?

Johan muttered, shaking his head, attempting to open the door. "Is anyone out there?! Open the door, we're locked!" he yelled, banging on the door, hoping someone would hear. His calls for help went unanswered.

"s**t," he cursed, leaning his head against the door before straightening, turning to Seoyeon with a blaming expression. Frustration etched his features.

Only their silhouettes were visible in the dim light filtering through a crack in the upper part of the tinted window.

"No, move. I'll try again," Seoyeon said, her breath hitching. Her chest tightened, a wave of dizziness washing over her. The symptoms of her nyctophobia—her fear of the dark—were starting to manifest. She hated this, hated the feeling of panic rising within her.

She pushed him aside, resuming her frantic attempts to open the door, desperate to escape the encroaching darkness. Johan muttered in annoyance at the sound of her struggling, but she ignored him. "Stop it, it's no use," he said, his voice sharp. "You can't open it; it's locked." She ignored him again, her efforts increasing. "I SAID STOP IT!" he grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the door. Immediately, her stomach churned, sweat beading on her skin, a sudden chill gripping her.

"L-Let go," she gasped, struggling for breath. She clutched her chest, a sharp pain piercing her like a knife. Johan frowned, noticing her sudden distress. "I said let—ah!" A yelp escaped her lips as the pain intensified, her legs weakening. She grabbed his forearm for support. Concern etched his features as he supported her weight.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, lifting her face. Tears glistened in her eyes. "Hey, tell me. Don't scare me." She tried to speak, but no sound came. She fumbled in her pocket, searching for her inhaler, then remembered—she'd forgotten it.

"I can't breathe…" she managed to whisper. Johan's eyes widened.

"What?! Why? Asthma? Do you have an inhaler?" He frantically searched her bag, finding nothing. "s**t!" he cursed, turning to her as she yelped again, her legs giving way. He caught her before she fell.

"Light… please, I need light…" she whispered weakly. Understanding dawned on him; it wasn't asthma. It was a phobia attack. He pulled out his phone, but the screen remained dark—dead battery. "Damn it," he muttered.

Spotting the crack in the window, an idea struck him. He carefully sat her down, positioning her toward the light, then found a hard object, throwing it at the window, shattering the glass and letting sunlight flood the room. "I made it. Are you okay—" His words trailed off as he saw her slumped against the wall, unconscious. His eyes widened in alarm. He rushed to her side, checking her pulse, relief flooding him when he felt the faint beat.

He sat beside her, leaning against the wall, closing his eyes to collect himself, his mind reeling from the events. He regretted his actions, the kiss, the way he'd hurt her, almost killing her with his thoughtless cruelty. His conscience hammered at him. He looked at her face, noticing her beauty without her glasses, her hair a mess from their struggle. He'd been harsh, pulling her hair, and the realization made him facepalm. He'd never fought a girl before. It was her defiance, her fearlessness in the face of his strength, that had angered him, wounded his pride. He was impressed by her courage, even though she was no match for him physically.

He reached for her broken hair tie, removing it, letting her brown hair cascade down her chest. She was beautiful. She could be Campus Queen, he thought, dismissing the idea. He scooted closer, gently resting her head on his shoulder to prevent a stiff neck. He had hurt her, and the weight of his actions pressed down on him. He had to make amends.