Reality Quest: Questism

I didn't leave Jihan's side for practically the entirety of the next day.

Whenever we went to lessons, whenever we went to the school library or even the rooftop, I didn't let him out of my sight… except for when he went to the toilet of course. Because that's just weird. What was I supposed to do, offer to shake it off for him?

Anyways, I didn't remember at all when the middle school friend was supposed to show up. Just sometime before midterms?

Mid-terms were next week.

If he didn't show up this week then something had already changed in the timeline. Even more than what had happened with Seokyoung. I shook my head as we walked out of school.

"-you thinking about?"

I blinked. "Huh."

"I asked what you were thinking about? You look kinda out of it."

Jihan looked concerned—though honestly, at this point, that was his default expression when he was with me.

"Nah, I was just thinking about that trig prob-" I stopped.

Jihan stiffened.

His breath hitched, his fingers curled, his body tensed like a wire pulled too tight.

I followed his line of sight.

And there he was.

A guy leaning against a sleek, expensive motorbike, the kind that didn't belong anywhere near a high school. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing tattooed forearms, and his pants? Didn't match any school in Gwanak.

He wasn't here for school. 

His smirk widened as he pushed off the bike, his gaze locking onto Jihan like a predator sizing up prey.

"Long time no see, Jihan."

Jihan's body went rigid.

The name fell out of his mouth like a curse.

"G-Gumin Lee…? How did you know I was—?"

Gumin tilted his head, his smirk deepening.

"A few days ago, I was around here… and just happened to see you pass by."

He sighed, shaking his head, like he was disappointed in some imaginary crime Jihan had committed.

"Unfortunately, I had plans that day, so I couldn't say hello." He tilted his head, fake sympathy dripping from his voice. "Such a shame, isn't it? So I came back. And what do you know? Here you are."

His smirk sharpened.

"It's great to see you again. I was wondering where you'd run awa-"

I took a step forward.

It was one thing to plan on letting your friend face his trauma so he could grow from it. 

It was another thing entirely to watch it happen.

Jihan's shoulders locked up with every word. His fingers trembled… just a little, barely noticeable, but I noticed.

That was enough.

My fists clenched.

"Listen up, you fuck—"

Jihan's hand shot out, stopping me.

I looked at him.

His jaw was tight, his eyes burning with something raw, something unspoken.

"Dowan… don't. I…"

He took a breath, shook his head.

And then he stood taller.

"I don't feel happy about seeing you," he said, voice steadier than his hands. "So don't ever come here again."

And with that, he turned away.

I followed without hesitation.

But not before memorizing the license plate on Gumin's bike.

That was going to be useful later.

I didn't forget to glare at the bastard either… flipping him off as I left.

Gumin just smirked.

Fucker.

For the first time since morning, we walked in silence.

Jihan's steps were tense, his shoulders drawn up, his mind clearly somewhere else.

After a few blocks, the block just before his house, he stopped.

"…Hey, Dowan."

I turned to him.

He was looking away, eyes trained on the ground.

"…I don't think I'll be able to study with you today. I'm sorry."

I sighed, my hand landing lightly on his back.

"Don't worry about it, man."

He didn't respond.

I hesitated, then added, "And about that guy from earlier… you know you can talk to me, right?"

Jihan turned even further away.

I nearly clenched my fists again.

That Gumin fucking fuck.

I let out a slow breath and forced myself to relax.

"…I'll see you tomorrow, Jihan."

He nodded but didn't look at me.

I turned the corner and walked away.

And then…

I stopped, leaned against the wall and waited.

Because there was no way a guy like Gumin would just let Jihan go home in peace after a meeting like that.

Either something was waiting for him, or Gumin would make a move before Jihan even reached his front door. 

I pulled out my phone. Either way I'd be ready.

***

Unknown location

Jihan sat on the couch, trying not to tremble.

He had promised himself he wouldn't. He had told himself that he wouldn't be the same kid from two years ago. That he would hold his ground. That he wouldn't let Gumin's presence weigh down on him like an iron chain.

But it was so hard.

The dim glow of the room, the faint smell of smoke, the lazy laughter of the other guys lounging around the place… it all felt like he'd been thrown back in time.

Like he was still trapped.

Like he was sixteen years old again.

Across from him, Gumin Lee sat like he owned the place, one leg crossed over the other, reclining back into the couch with the easy arrogance of someone who had never once lost control of anything.

His smirk widened as he tapped the armrest with two fingers.

"It's been a while since you came here, right?"

His voice was smooth, casual…like this was nothing but a reunion between old friends.

Like this wasn't a goddamn nightmare.

"We used to play here so often in middle school."

Jihan's fists curled against his thighs, his nails digging into his palms. The words slipped out before he could even stop them.

"…Playing?" His voice was hoarse. "Is that what you call it?"

Gumin raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning sharper.

"Oh?"

There was something amused in the way he tilted his head, like he was observing some kind of rare, exotic animal that had just done something unexpected.

"You talk back now?" He let out a low chuckle, his fingers tapping against the couch again. "I didn't think you'd change after two years."

Jihan's breath caught in his throat as one of the guys,one of Gumin's people, leaned over from the other side of the couch.

He was built relatively athletic, his entire presence radiating mockery.

A hand, too heavy, landed on Jihan's head.

A mocking pat.

"Ha," the guy scoffed, his fingers pressing down just a little too hard. "The punk still looks like a fucking baby."

Laughter.

The sound of more voices joining in, the sharp crack of pool balls hitting each other from the table nearby.

Another one, round, an unfortunate complexion along with multiple jiggling chins… leaned forward, squinting at Jihan like he was some kind of museum exhibit.

"Still?" His deep voice rumbled with curiosity. "Who even is this guy?"

Gumin let out a short laugh.

"Hmm… Jihan," he mused, leaning forward with a mocking tilt of his head, "there are a lot of unfamiliar faces here, aren't there?"

His smirk widened.

"Do you know how surprised I was when you disappeared that day?"

Jihan's hands clenched. He didn't want to hear this.

He didn't want to hear his voice.

"If I'd known you'd moved here, I would've called for us to all ha—"

"Why are you doing this to me?"

The words spilled out of him before he could stop them.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then-

Gumin's smirk returned, sharper than before.

"Cutting me off too?" His eyes glinted, amused. "You really have changed."

Jihan could feel the room pressing in. The walls felt smaller, the air heavier. This wasn't just some meeting. This was a warning.

A reminder.

Gumin wasn't here to catch up. He was here to put Jihan back in his place.

A voice called from the pool table.

"Hey Gumin, we're running low on alcohol…"

Gumin sighed dramatically, lifting a gold bank card between his fingers.

"Ah, why don't you all buy yourselves some cigarettes too?"

The guy by the pool table smirked. The round one laughed.

"Oooh, young and rich!"

Gumin smirked lazily as he tossed the card toward them. "Don't take too long."

The two guys grabbed it and walked towards the door, already snickering.

Unfortunately they never made it out.

The door didn't just break.

It exploded.

The hinges screamed as they were torn out, the entire wooden frame obliterating into shrapnel. A thunderous impact rocked the walls, rattling glasses on tables, sending half-filled ashtrays flying as a shockwave ripped through the room.

The two guys by the door were launched backward like ragdolls, their bodies slamming into furniture, knocking over bottles, shattering glass.

Jihan flinched, breath caught in his throat.

Someone cursed loudly. Chairs scraped back as people jolted to their feet. A cloud of dust and smoke swirled through the air, choking the dim light.

For a long, stretched-out second, nothing moved.

Then a shadow stepped through.

Deliberate. Unhurried.

They didn't run. They didn't rush.

They walked.

Like they had all the time in the world.

The dust shifted around them, curling in their wake.

Footsteps echoed against the floor.

Jihan's pulse roared in his ears. His breath caught as the figure emerged, the smoke parting just enough to reveal a sharp silhouette.

Gumin sat up.

His smirk was gone.

The room fell silent.

Dowan Ha stepped through. 

"Sorry I'm late Jihan, the concrete was interfering with the signal, so…"

His tone shifted, the very air in the room changing as the tension rose, sharp enough for everyone to feel it.

"...who do I need to beat up?"

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Aura farmer? I hardly know her!

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