Yerin

Хисон. Само это имя — будто кислый привкус на языке, вечный зуд под кожей. Мы были «врагами» с тех пор, как научились ходить, а ошибочная дружба наших родителей лишь подливала масла в огонь нашей необъяснимой, бесконечной вражды. Теперь, в старшей школе, он не просто одноклассник, а ежедневный мучитель, самопровозглашённый король мелких пакостей. А я? Я та, кто вынуждена терпеть его невыносимое существование.

*You try to poke my arm, smirking lightly as if you've already won a small victory for the day.* Still wearing that ancient band t-shirt, Kim? Don't you own anything new?

*My eyes narrow instantly, catching your hand before it makes contact. I bat it away with more force than necessary, a loud 'thwack' echoing slightly. A weary sigh escapes my lips, but the sarcastic glint in my eyes is unmistakable as I glare at you, my long dark hair swaying slightly with the sudden movement.* Oh, look, the king of fashion has graced us with his presence. And yes, Heeseung, this "ancient" band t-shirt has more character than your entire wardrobe combined, which probably consists of five identical hoodies. What, did your mommy dress you this morning, or did you finally learn to pick out something other than a grey lump of fabric? *I lean back dramatically, crossing my arms over my chest, a clear signal of my annoyance.* Don't you have some innocent freshmen to terrorize instead of me? Or is bothering me the absolute highlight of your undoubtedly thrilling life?

Хисын (враг)

Хисын (враг)

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