The next day is pretty good, at least until lunch break.

Jungkook, thankfully, has gotten used to your gang-gosh that sounds weird-except for Taehyung, who would constantly sweet talk to the boy.

No matter how much you reprimand or lecture the gray haired boy, he seems hell-bent on making the youngest blush every chance he gets.

Though Taehyung is the least of your worries as you grab your tray, making your way over to your usual table.

Your smile falters at the sight.

What was once a fairly empty table with only three people, is now as packed as the Grand Central Station.

On one end, Hoseok chats animatedly with his stepsister, Lisa. Right next to them, Taehyung is-of course-flirting with Jungkook, while the younger boy sits blushing and avoiding his eyes. The other two seats are also taken, as Jimin tries to convince Namjoon to do his Biology homework.

Your eyes slowly trail to the last remaining seats, where you would be sitting right next to-

No.

You shake your head violently, trying to get rid of the thought as you slip into the seat next to the Jimin, who smiles at you, breaking off from his argument momentarily and pressing a short kiss to your lips.

You smile back weakly, which soon falls as he turns back to the bespectacled peach haired boy with yet another point in his favour. Unconsciously, your eyes flit over the rest of the lunch hall.

You visibly flinch when your eyes meet Suga's hardened ones.

He must thing very strongly of Jimin...if the kiss you just shared with the blonde provokes him like that.

You hold his gaze, begging with your eyes for him to join the table again. To come back to you.

You know who would be sitting on the empty seat next to you.

Suga's eyes are as cold as ice as he stares back, unyeilding under your gaze. His jaw is clenched, a muscle pulled taut in his neck, his hands clenched into fists on either side of his tray.

Your eyes sting.

Yoongi swallows harshly, his eyes travelling to your lips fleetingly before they return unforgivingly to your eyes, and you know he doesn't approve of Jimin at all.

The blonde boy next to you obliviously reaches over, taking your hand on the table in his and strokes your knuckles slowly with his thumb.

Suga's eyes harden further.

Your brow furrows slightly; pleadingly.

He looks away.

|

It's still broad daylight when you reach the amusement park again.

Thankfully, your father isn't at home, so you are at full liberty to make up an excuse for yourself for skipping the second half of school.

You still remember the first period.

"Okay, class," Mr. Oh sighed, swiping his glasses with his handkerchief. "I have another assignment for you."

A collective groan from the ckass.

The teacher rolled his eyes. "Well, it's already decided, so no buts about that. You better complete it." His eyes found yours, and he gave you a meaningful look. "Especially those who don't pay attention."

You shrunk under his gaze.

"But, sir," A voice spoke up from the back. "Is it a solo assignment?"

"No." Mr. Oh shook his head. "Its a partner project again."

"Can we choose our own partners?" Another student asked excitedly.

"Nope." The teacher smile with a hint of what looked like evil. "They're your previous partners."

The loudest groan this time was from your lips.

Suga looked back at you fleetingly before turning away again.

Taehyung shot you a cheeky wink.

Jimin gave you an upset look for not being partnered with you.

Looks like you'll have to do the project alone this time.

"And the topic?" You asked wearily.

"The topic," Mr. Oh was definitely smiling evilly this time. "Is friendship."

You whine at the bad memory.

I swear the whole world is against me.

Not today.

You steel your resolve, climbing up the same path you remember, where the top of the stairs meets the horror ride.

The wind is strong, carrying the scent of lilac and dust over to your nose. You sniff at the air, somewhat feeling like an animal, but pause.

There's something else in the air.

The new smell is dry, pungent even, and vaguely familiar. The first thing that comes to your mind is your birthday five years ago when they had firecrackers.

You turn instinctively, proud of your powerful sense of smell.

Gunpowder.

The next thing you feel is dread.

With an undeniable hint of curiosity.

You turn back from your path, moving down the stairs as slowly as you can. Wondering if someone wlse is using the abandoned park for bursting crackers.

M-hm.

You catch a fleeting glimpse of a hooded figure from your elevated position, and feel somewhat glad that no one has noticed you. There's something else in the air; something oily and metallic.

You tiptoe over to the metal shed, following the figure with the denim hoodie with your eyes.

The boy-at least you assume it is from the gait-disappears behind another shed, where the controls are. You find it strange that he has no bulky bag that may serve as an indication that he has crackers with him.

You lick your lips, overpowered by your curiosity, and follow the figure.

You're at the edge of the wall when there's a shuffling from behind you.

You whip around, eyes darting around in alarm.

There's a movement at the corner of your eye, and you jump instinctively.

But apparently not fast enough.

A hand covers your mouth, muffling your screams as someone pulls you behind a wall.