After-Class Chaos

Wenalin’s POV

The second the clock hit 5:00 PM, I mentally checked out. Our teacher was still babbling about the ethics of digital communication—ironic, considering half the class was texting while she spoke. I slid my pencil case into my bag, zipped it closed with a victorious zup, and stood like someone just set me free from jail.

Discirie was immediately by my side like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

“You’re not escaping me today,” she declared with a smirk, blocking my path like a final boss in an RPG game.

I blinked. “Escaping? When did I escape? Btw, where are we going now?” I slung my bag over my shoulder and grinned so wide, I was probably violating at least five laws of facial etiquette.

Discirie raised a brow. “You're grinning like someone who just got away with murder.”

“Maybe I did,” I replied with a dramatic shrug.

Jerneth appeared behind Discirie, sipping her favorite boxed juice like she hadn’t just endured six straight hours of school. “So… what’s the plan?” she asked, in that quiet, emotionally-drained voice she always had after class, like social interaction was an extreme sport.

“How about…” I paused like I was about to drop the world’s most genius idea. “We go somewhere.”

Discirie rolled her eyes. “Somewhere? That’s your plan?”

“Somewhere that’s not school,” I amended, lifting my finger like I’d made a revolutionary point.

“I second that,” Grejie nodded as she appeared, ruffling her already messy hair. “My brain has stopped functioning. I think it literally curled up and died during physics.”

“Same,” Wenmar groaned, dramatically collapsing onto the hallway floor like a telenovela heroine. “I’m a corpse now. Carry me.”

“No thanks,” I said, stepping over his outstretched hand.

“Rude,” he sniffled, fake crying.

Suddenly, a wild Lorces appeared, running toward us like a panicked hamster. “Wait, wait!” he screamed. “No one told me we were leaving early! I was still asking Sensei about the quiz tomorrow!”

Grejie immediately slapped a strong, brotherly arm around his shoulder. “Your problem is being too academic. Live a little. Steal a snack. Kick a vending machine. Commit emotional crimes.”

“I don’t want crimes!” Lorces whimpered. “I just want to pass math…”

“You can do that tomorrow,” I said, already dragging Discirie by the sleeve. “Let’s go now before it gets dark and the adult world realizes we’re unsupervised minors.”

“So again,” Discirie said, flipping her phone around like it was a mic, “Wenalin, as the ringmaster of this chaotic circus—what’s the grand agenda?”

I scratched my chin and pretended to think like an evil mastermind. “Hmm. Ice cream? Sunset photoshoot? Public karaoke? Shrine visit? Or maybe… we steal fallen leaves from the park and pretend it’s money.”

“You’re mentally unwell,” Jerneth muttered, still sipping her juice.

“I second the ice cream,” Grejie said while searching for shops nearby on her phone. “There’s that cute place near the train station.”

“I want strawberry!” Lorces shouted like a five-year-old on his birthday.

“Of course you do,” Discirie said, patting his head. “Because you are five.”

Suddenly, Wenmar started singing as if his life was a musical.

🎵“We’re escaping school—without a plan…with empty hearts…and no GPA…🎵”

He belted.

I clapped with a deadpan expression. “Bars. That’s a Grammy.”

“I hate all of you,” Discirie muttered while trying not to smile.

“Wait, hold up,” Jerneth said. “Should we really go far? It’s already past five and the sun’s doing that dramatic golden hour thing.”

“That’s exactly why we should go,” I answered. “Nothing hits harder than escaping reality during sunset. It’s cinematic.”

“Spoken like a poetic felon,” Discirie muttered.

[Convenience Store Stop]

We made a detour into the nearest conbini. The fluorescent lights were too bright for my mood, but the shelves of junk food made up for it.

“Okay, okay, hear me out,” I said, tossing an energy drink into the basket. “We stock up on snacks, walk to the park, and scream into the void. Instant therapy.”

“Why are you obsessed with yelling at the sky?” Grejie asked while examining dried squid snacks.

“Because the sky doesn’t interrupt or disappoint,” I said with a perfectly straight face.

Lorces held up a large cookie box. “Can I add more? This isn’t enough for my soul.”

“Add three more,” Wenmar said, giving him a dramatic high five.

Jerneth, quietly and with zero fanfare, paid for all our snacks. Discirie raised her eyebrow at the act of generosity but said nothing. Instead, she looped her arm through mine as we exited the store.

“You’re being clingy today,” I noted.

“I’m cold,” she replied, deadpan.

“Physically or emotionally?” I asked.

“Both,” she sighed.

“Classic eomma behavior,” I said, patting her hand.

Meanwhile, Grejie and Wenmar were laughing at something on Grejie’s phone—some cursed meme probably—and Lorces tried to climb a vending machine for no reason at all.

[The Park]

We sprawled out on the grassy patch like we owned the earth. The sky above us turned into a breathtaking canvas of orange, purple, and soft pinks. There was something about being outside in your school uniform past class hours—it felt illegal. Beautifully illegal.

Grejie lay flat on the grass. “So how’s life?”

“Boring,” Jerneth replied immediately.

“Exhausting,” Discirie mumbled.

“Unnecessarily dramatic,” Wenmar sighed.

“I think I’m in love with math,” Lorces confessed with a deadly serious tone. “It’s the only thing that hasn’t abandoned me.”

“Same,” I said. “Math knows all my secrets and never leaks them.”

Wenmar rolled closer to me on the grass. “Okay, serious question. If we were all stuck in a burning building, and you could only save one of us—who would it be?”

I didn’t even flinch. “None of you.”

They all laughed.

“Even me?” Discirie asked dramatically, placing a hand on her chest.

“Especially you,” I said. “You’d probably be too busy editing a photo of Suho inside the fire.”

“I’m in pain!” she yelled, falling backwards like someone shot her in the chest with emotions.

I lay back, watching the sky, my hands behind my head. “You guys are annoying.”

Wenmar rolled his eyes. “You love us.”

“Nope.”

“Okay, but like, a tiny bit?”

“Maybe a molecule.”

“Victory,” Discirie whispered.

As the sky darkened and the cicadas started singing in the background, we remained sprawled on the grass—talking nonsense, arguing about what ice cream flavor was elite, and laughing at Lorces who tried to prank call a random vending machine number.

This? This was what I called living.

Not because it was grand or wild. But because I got to exist like this—with people who knew I was emotionally awkward, sarcastic, and semi-dead inside—and still chose to sit with me on grass as the sun dipped away.

I had no clue what tomorrow would bring.

But right now?

This was enough.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed

From my RP account: Eris Byuntae

Kookie: “I wonder if couples are allowed to eat ramen together. .”

Kookie: “Also, I’m standing in front of a ramen shop. Should I buy you one too?”

Kookie: “Do you like spicy or mild? This feels like a very important compatibility question.”

I tried not to smile. I really tried.

“What’s that look?” Discirie leaned over.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, shoving the phone into my hoodie.

Wenmar screamed. “WENALIN IS SMILING AT HER PHONE!”

“I SAW IT TOO,” Grejie added. “WHO IS IT??”

“Leave me alone,” I laughed, rolling away from them like a dramatic anime girl.

They all pounced on me like wolves.

“GIVE US DETAILS—IS IT A BOY??”

“IS IT A MAFIA???”

“IS IT SEHUN??”

“No, no, and no,” I said between laughs.

“Show us or we riot,” Lorces threatened, brandishing his seaweed chips.

I shook my head. “Top secret.”

“Fine,” Discirie pouted. “But if I find out you’re falling in love, I want a formal announcement.”

“Relax,” I said, glancing at my phone again.

Kookie had sent another message:

Kookie: “Don’t ghost me, partner. maybe We got missions to do tonight. ”

I typed back quickly, smirking:

Eris: “Get the ramen. I want spicy.”

Then I looked at my chaotic group of friends—bickering over who’d carry the trash, play-fighting with snack wrappers, and humming old K-pop songs off-key—and I sighed contentedly.

This was my real-life squad.

And later tonight… I had another kind of squad

We parted around 6:30 PM. I was in the train right now. The train was nearly empty this time of day, and I loved it. The low hum, the rhythm of motion it helped me think.

I plugged in one earbud. The other stayed out, just in case.

My phone buzzed in my hand. Notifications exploded across the screen. My fake RP account—Eris Byuntae—was active again.

Kyeopta Squad GC

Josh : So what if we made today’s challenge something really... coupley?

Mark : Define “coupley” before we let Josh talk again.

Ash : If you say kissing, I’m logging off forever.

Mark: Alright, couples! Tonight is Round 2 of our “Not Even Real but Feels Real” series!

Josh : I’ve planned a picnic. With imaginary grapes. You're welcome.

Ash : How do I delete this group.

Blake: Are we gonna do “date questions” tonight?

Kookie : I hope Eris answers the “do you get butterflies” one.

I rolled my eyes and typed back:

Eris : Butterflies are for people with emotions. I’m more of a moth person.

Zake : You mean dead inside but still drawn to light?

Eris: Exactly.

Then a direct message from Kookie came through.

kookie:"I hope you get home safety"

I smile and put back my phone inside my pocket.

By 9:45 PM, I was inside the dim-lit room again—our usual hideout. It smelled like instant noodles and late-night secrets. Plastic mats on the floor, bean bags in corners, a curtain dividing the space for “private pair moments,” and a whiteboard that said:

By 9:45 PM, I was standing in front of the narrow iron door again—the one that squeaks no matter how gently you try to open it. The old industrial building we claimed as our unofficial “hideout” didn’t look like much from the outside, just rusted walls and broken windows covered with paper and tape. But inside? It smelled like instant noodles, secrets, and a little bit of dust.

The lights were dim—just a few hanging bulbs draped across the ceiling like weak stars. Plastic mats were sprawled across the floor, some worn and curling at the edges. Beanbags, mismatched pillows, and blankets formed little lounging nests in corners. Someone had brought a lava lamp that didn’t work unless you slapped it. A curtain divided the room—“the private corner,” people called it—but nobody ever really used it seriously. It was all for jokes… mostly.

A whiteboard up front said in big red marker:

> "Tonight’s Challenge: FAKE LOVE ORIGIN STORY — Max 3 mins. Bonus Points for Tears, Drama, & Emotional Damage."

Classic.

I hadn’t even stepped fully in when—

“ERIS!” Mark jumped up like a loyal golden retriever. His eyes lit up, and he jogged toward me with his usual energy. “You made it! You didn’t die on the way here. That’s a win!”

I gave him a faint smirk. “I only almost died three times. Slow night.”

He beamed, like my sarcasm was a gift. “You want juice? I brought juice!”

“I'm not five, Mark.”

“Then drink two.”

“.No..m ”

Before I could finish the sentence, Josh slinked up behind me like a very annoying, very flirty shadow.

“Eris,” he purred, sliding his arm close but not touching. “You look particularly mysterious tonight. It’s a crime not to tell me what lip balm you use. Your lips look—”

I stepped aside before he could finish.

“Josh,” I said calmly, “you flirting with me is like a mosquito hitting a bug zapper.”

“So you’re saying I’m electrifying?”

I glared.

He grinned wider.

Mark chuckled awkwardly, trying to steer Josh away by offering him juice.

Meanwhile, in the corner, I could feel it—eyes. Quiet ones. Steady.

I turned slightly and caught Ash glancing my way again, pretending he wasn’t. His arms were crossed, his lips barely moving. He always looked like he was stuck in some brooding anime opening. But his partner, a girl named iris who wore heavy eyeliner and had a sharp tongue, was clearly catching on.

“You keep looking at her,” Nina muttered under her breath.

“I’m not,” Ash replied dryly.

“You are.”

“Maybe I’m checking for a threat.”

“She’s not a threat. She’s just more interesting than me, apparently.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Yikes. I pretended I didn’t hear that.

“Eris!”

I turned just in time to see Kookie step into view, holding up a paper bag triumphantly.

“I brought ramen for you.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused. “You brought… ramen?”

“Yeah.. You said you want a ramen.”

“That was a joke.”

He blinked. “It wasn’t to me.”

I laughed quietly. “You’re too soft.”

He shrugged. “Better than being too cold.”

“I’m perfectly tempered,” I replied, crossing my arms. “Also, I don’t want it.”

He frowned a little. “You sure? I even skipped my snack to buy this.”

I rolled my eyes and took the bag, then walked over to Zacky and handed it to him instead.

“Here,” I said. “You’re hungry, right?”

Zacky blinked in surprise. “Uh—seriously? Thanks, Eris!”

Kookie raised his eyebrows, clearly offended. “You gave it to her?”

“I don’t like accepting offerings.”

“You make it sound like I’m sacrificing a goat.”

“Same vibe,” I said, sitting down on a bean bag.

Kookie muttered something under his breath and sat next to me anyway, stealing my personal space like he had a right to it.

...----------------...

Mark stood up and clapped twice to get everyone's attention.

“Alright, people! Tonight’s challenge is simple,” he grinned. “You and your partner are going to come up with the most realistic three-minute love story origin. Then act it out. Points for drama. Points for betrayal. Extra points if someone cries. And if someone dies in the story, Ash automatically gives you a thumbs up.”

“I want emotional death,” Ash said dryly, still from the corner.

Josh clapped. “I want plot twists. Cheating. Love triangles. Unexpected twins.”

Zack and Zacky were already off on the side, whispering dramatically while pantomiming chopsticks.

“We met in a haunted ramen shop,” Zack said.

“And he was already dead,” Zacky added solemnly.

I sipped my juice quietly.

Kookie leaned in. “You want to make up a story?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“You want it sweet? Or… realistic?”

“Let’s go tragic,” I said, stretching my fingers. “I’m good at pretending heartbreak.”

He smiled, his eyes lighting up in that weird soft way again. “Okay. How about this: I saw you standing alone in the rain, and I offered you my umbrella, but you rejected it.”

“Because I hate help,” I added immediately.

“But you still accepted the hot coffee I left behind.”

“Only because it was dark roast.”

He nodded slowly, voice gentler now. “And then I came back the next night. Same place. Same rain.”

“And I was there again.”

We paused. Just enough time to feel something odd creep in.

He leaned in a bit closer, voice low. “And we never asked each other’s names. Not until now.”

I blinked.

For a second, the background noise disappeared. I could feel the warmth of his tone settle like a thin blanket over me.

I cleared my throat. “Okay, that’s dramatic enough.”

He grinned. “You’re blushing.”

“I don’t blush.”

“You just did.”

Mark’s voice interrupted, calling out: “Kookie and Eris! You’re up!”

We walked to the center.

Under the glow of mismatched bulbs, we told our story. Soft voices. No overacting. Just... quiet tragedy.

We stood in front of the others and told the story—half acting, half just standing there.

We started the act. Kookie stepped forward, his voice low and soft as he mimed holding an umbrella.

“I saw her. Again. Same place. Same rain. She never said anything.”

I stepped in, wrapping my arms around myself as if cold. “I told him to leave. But he kept coming back.”

He offered the imaginary coffee. I pretended to sip it.

“We never asked names,” he whispered.

“Not until now,” I echoed.

There was a pause. Just the two of us staring.

Laughter broke the tension.

Awkward applause. A few whoops. Ash was watching us again, eyebrows slightly furrowed. Marii smacked his arm.

I sat down quietly. Kookie bumped his knee into mine. But I move aside to have space between me and him.

“Not bad,” he said.

“Not real,” I corrected.

I looked at him, silent.

Then whispered: “Eris.”

The room was still.

Josh broke the silence. “Was that… real?”

“No,” I said quickly.

“Yes,” Kookie said at the same time.

By 4 AM, half the members were curled up on mats. Others scrolled quietly on their phones or whispered about crushes. The energy had shifted—less chaotic, more vulnerable. The kind of vibe that only came when everyone was too tired to lie.

I was packing up my hoodie when Kookie walked me to the door.

Kookie:"I'll walk with you"

“You don’t have to walk me,” I repeated, just like last time.

“I want to,” he said.

"No thanks"

“You’re still cold,” he said softly. “But you’re not heartless.”

I looked away. “Why do you care?”

“Because even if this is all fake… I’m not.”

That shut me up.

I didn’t know what to say.

Right then, Blake, Sofia, and John came from the hallway, grabbing Kookie.

“Hey, Kookie! Join us—we’re gonna play Werewolf with a twist!” Blake said, dragging him off.