BLOOM | NI-KI - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading BLOOM | NI-KI, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of BLOOM | NI-KI.
WHEN SAORI FOUND NI-KI, he was just outside a classroom, lips pulled into a smug smirk while a teacher stood in front of him. It was apparent that he was being chewed out for doing something wrong, but the look on his face gave away his attitude of indifference toward the situation.
"What's wrong with you? Why do you do this?!" The shorter teacher pressed an accusatory finger dangerously close to his face, but the boy didn't care. He just scoffed in feigned offense.
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? You're the one shoving your finger in my face,"
That set the teacher off, and he rose his hand, angling it in a way that made it appear as if he were about to put his hands on him. But Ni-ki didn't flinch. Didn't move an inch, he just eyed the older man. A challenge.
Saori held her breath, slightly wincing when the teacher finally moved to put his hand down. She let out a deep breath, shuffling behind the wall she peeked out from.
"Seriously Ni-ki, why do you do this? Nothing is going to bring him back—"
"And whose fault is that?" Ni-ki's voice was laced with poison, sharp and biting, when he said it. "It's your fault for not doing enough,"
"It's complicated," The teacher pleaded, his voice dropping an octave lower. Saori chewed her fingernail, anticipation bubbling inside of her. This was it, the moment she would finally figure out the situation everyone avoided so deliberately.
"Murder isn't complicated."
Silence.
The teacher sighed, eyes worn in defeat, his hands rubbing his temples in genuine exhaustion. "Look, I understand you're upset, but acting out isn't going to do anything. It's time to move on."
"I'll move on when Jay pays for what he did." He snarled, shoving past the teacher with force. The teacher stumbled a bit, before regaining his balance. Saori watched as Ni-ki disappeared down the hallway, in the complete opposite direction of his next class.
Yes, the girl had deliberately memorized his schedule. She had to talk to him, had to figure out what it was exactly that made him who he was. But most importantly, she had to make him believe she was on his side, because she was.
The teacher cursed, gripping his hair in frustration. He mumbled something under his breath, surveying the area, before straightening his suit and walking back into the classroom.
There was something everyone, even the teachers, seemed to know about this Sunoo boy and Ni-ki, and she would do whatever it took to figure it out.
𓇢𓆸
Ni-ki rest his head against the brick wall of the school rooftop, his eyes shut so tight that he could see splotches of color swimming around in the abyss of darkness. His head nodded ever so slightly, riding the beat of the music that blasted his eardrums.
Pure bliss.
Away from all the noise, all the expectant eyes waiting for his next move, waiting for him to mess up. Away from the traitors who pretended what had happened to Sunoo was just a dream.
He so desperately wished it were a dream, that the image of his best friend falling from stories overhead was just something his dark, twisted mind had conjured up as a sick joke. But it wasn't, and he was reminded of that every day.
Every day he walked past Sunoo's abandoned locker, untouched, the stone colored metal completely spotless and neat, just how Sunoo had been. Everytime he walked down the familiar street to his neighborhood, vivid depictions of his arm slung around Sunoo's shoulder; the older boy unconvincingly complaining that he hated it.
Everything reminded him of Sunoo, of what he could have been. Of what he should have been. He'd be damned if he let anyone in the school convince him that it wasn't a big deal. That he should forget what had happened to his best friend.
When it should have been him.
Saori's steps were light as she ascended the dark, stone staircase, her hands blindly scaling the wall for balance. She had managed to follow Ni-ki up to the rooftop after her final class.
No matter how badly she wanted to be like him, rebellious, uncaring of what was expected of her, she still had a role to play. The golden child, the smart, intelligent, docile little girl her parents expected her to be.
She owed it to them.
As she reached the door, she hesitated, her hand grazing the cool, rough material. She said a quick mental prayer, in hopes of the spontaneous rendezvous ending well. This was likely her only chance at finding out what happened, at showing Ni-ki she was on his side.
The door creaked open, the sound pushing out even the blaring music abusing Ni-ki's ear drums. He perked up, body alert, his eyes darting in the direction of the doorway.
Then he saw her, Saori. The girl who had managed to break into his life in just her first month of school. He raised an eyebrow, tucking his earpods back into their case carefully.
"What do you want?"
She doesn't say anything, staying put, her hands clasped behind her back. On the outside, she appeared fearless, indifferent to the coldness in his tone, but inside was a completely different story. Her hands were trembling, sweat droplets beginning to form behind her neck as she rehearsed what she would say to him.
Ni-ki simply chuckled, sneakily closing the sketchbook that lay draped on his lap to the side, his eyes moving up to watch the girl again. "What? You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"No, I just didn't know you drew." She finally mustered the courage to speak, slowly approaching him. He looked down, fingers tracing the cover of his sketchbook absentmindedly.
"Just something I do for fun." He muttered, sliding it behind him protectively. She nodded, moving to crouch beside him, a few feet away.
They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, neither of them knowing what to say. Saori glanced at him, her eyes tracing the sharp curve of his jawline, his long lashes shadowing his eyes like velvet curtains.
She could even see a fading bruise, poorly patched up, high up on his cheekbone.
He was beautiful.
"Why did you fight yesterday?" She finally broke the silence, turning her head to look at him. Squinting his eyes, he continued to stare straight ahead.
He contemplated for a moment, licking his chapped lips in slight discomfort. There was something about the girl, something off putting and ingenuine. She portrayed herself to be just the new exchange student, sweet and intelligent, but something about her fascination with him, it just wasn't right.
Or maybe that was his trust issues talking.
"He was asking for it," He explained, still refusing to look at her.
Saori didn't say anything, she didn't have to. Just being there with him was enough, even if she didn't get all of the answers she wanted. There was something about Ni-ki, something that made it impossible for her to stay away from him, despite the blaring signals of danger and ruin.
Maybe she wanted a bit of danger. Maybe she wanted to be ruined.
Then, quieter he finished: "Some people deserve worse. But no one seems to get what they deserve around here." His words are bitter, laced with an undercurrent of discontent. She so desperately wished to ask, to have him confide all of the secrets he held deep in his heart in her, but she couldn't.
It was too soon.
"I want to help." She says suddenly, tightening her arms around her folded knees.
"You don't even know what's going on–"
"I don't have to. I see you, I know there's more to you than what they say,"
Ni-ki scoffed, throwing his head back in genuine amusement. She was so naive, so naive it would get her into trouble. Trouble she couldn't afford.
"That's cute, it really is." He says demeaningly, his eyes boring into hers, as if she were a clueless child who was bothering him. "Stay away from me. Whatever it is you want from me, you'll never get."
And before she can refute his claim, he's gone, not a trace of his being there left behind. Only the strong scent of cigarettes, and a strange heaviness floating in the air.
𓇢𓆸
That night, Saori lay in the darkness of her room, not an ounce of light save for the small candle she lit by her bedside. Her journal lay splayed out, pencil in hand as she scribbled something down—not about school, but about him.
"There's something broken. I want to know where the crack starts."
She chews the end of her pencil, eyes tracing every curve of the letters that made up the simple sentence she wrote. After a short moment, she blows the delicate candle out, shrouds of darkness hovering over her like a blanket.
And for the first time in a while, she dreams. She dreams of a boy, slender and tall, eyes widened in horror, his back flush against the windowsill.
Then, he falls.
She shot up, ragged breath moving in and out of her mouth at irregular intervals. Her chest heaved, her throat beginning to feel as if it were closing in on itself. She clutched her neck, eyes bulging out of their sockets, finally catching her breath.
It was just a dream. But somehow, it didn't feel like hers.
Bloom.
"What's wrong with you? Why do you do this?!" The shorter teacher pressed an accusatory finger dangerously close to his face, but the boy didn't care. He just scoffed in feigned offense.
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? You're the one shoving your finger in my face,"
That set the teacher off, and he rose his hand, angling it in a way that made it appear as if he were about to put his hands on him. But Ni-ki didn't flinch. Didn't move an inch, he just eyed the older man. A challenge.
Saori held her breath, slightly wincing when the teacher finally moved to put his hand down. She let out a deep breath, shuffling behind the wall she peeked out from.
"Seriously Ni-ki, why do you do this? Nothing is going to bring him back—"
"And whose fault is that?" Ni-ki's voice was laced with poison, sharp and biting, when he said it. "It's your fault for not doing enough,"
"It's complicated," The teacher pleaded, his voice dropping an octave lower. Saori chewed her fingernail, anticipation bubbling inside of her. This was it, the moment she would finally figure out the situation everyone avoided so deliberately.
"Murder isn't complicated."
Silence.
The teacher sighed, eyes worn in defeat, his hands rubbing his temples in genuine exhaustion. "Look, I understand you're upset, but acting out isn't going to do anything. It's time to move on."
"I'll move on when Jay pays for what he did." He snarled, shoving past the teacher with force. The teacher stumbled a bit, before regaining his balance. Saori watched as Ni-ki disappeared down the hallway, in the complete opposite direction of his next class.
Yes, the girl had deliberately memorized his schedule. She had to talk to him, had to figure out what it was exactly that made him who he was. But most importantly, she had to make him believe she was on his side, because she was.
The teacher cursed, gripping his hair in frustration. He mumbled something under his breath, surveying the area, before straightening his suit and walking back into the classroom.
There was something everyone, even the teachers, seemed to know about this Sunoo boy and Ni-ki, and she would do whatever it took to figure it out.
𓇢𓆸
Ni-ki rest his head against the brick wall of the school rooftop, his eyes shut so tight that he could see splotches of color swimming around in the abyss of darkness. His head nodded ever so slightly, riding the beat of the music that blasted his eardrums.
Pure bliss.
Away from all the noise, all the expectant eyes waiting for his next move, waiting for him to mess up. Away from the traitors who pretended what had happened to Sunoo was just a dream.
He so desperately wished it were a dream, that the image of his best friend falling from stories overhead was just something his dark, twisted mind had conjured up as a sick joke. But it wasn't, and he was reminded of that every day.
Every day he walked past Sunoo's abandoned locker, untouched, the stone colored metal completely spotless and neat, just how Sunoo had been. Everytime he walked down the familiar street to his neighborhood, vivid depictions of his arm slung around Sunoo's shoulder; the older boy unconvincingly complaining that he hated it.
Everything reminded him of Sunoo, of what he could have been. Of what he should have been. He'd be damned if he let anyone in the school convince him that it wasn't a big deal. That he should forget what had happened to his best friend.
When it should have been him.
Saori's steps were light as she ascended the dark, stone staircase, her hands blindly scaling the wall for balance. She had managed to follow Ni-ki up to the rooftop after her final class.
No matter how badly she wanted to be like him, rebellious, uncaring of what was expected of her, she still had a role to play. The golden child, the smart, intelligent, docile little girl her parents expected her to be.
She owed it to them.
As she reached the door, she hesitated, her hand grazing the cool, rough material. She said a quick mental prayer, in hopes of the spontaneous rendezvous ending well. This was likely her only chance at finding out what happened, at showing Ni-ki she was on his side.
The door creaked open, the sound pushing out even the blaring music abusing Ni-ki's ear drums. He perked up, body alert, his eyes darting in the direction of the doorway.
Then he saw her, Saori. The girl who had managed to break into his life in just her first month of school. He raised an eyebrow, tucking his earpods back into their case carefully.
"What do you want?"
She doesn't say anything, staying put, her hands clasped behind her back. On the outside, she appeared fearless, indifferent to the coldness in his tone, but inside was a completely different story. Her hands were trembling, sweat droplets beginning to form behind her neck as she rehearsed what she would say to him.
Ni-ki simply chuckled, sneakily closing the sketchbook that lay draped on his lap to the side, his eyes moving up to watch the girl again. "What? You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"No, I just didn't know you drew." She finally mustered the courage to speak, slowly approaching him. He looked down, fingers tracing the cover of his sketchbook absentmindedly.
"Just something I do for fun." He muttered, sliding it behind him protectively. She nodded, moving to crouch beside him, a few feet away.
They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, neither of them knowing what to say. Saori glanced at him, her eyes tracing the sharp curve of his jawline, his long lashes shadowing his eyes like velvet curtains.
She could even see a fading bruise, poorly patched up, high up on his cheekbone.
He was beautiful.
"Why did you fight yesterday?" She finally broke the silence, turning her head to look at him. Squinting his eyes, he continued to stare straight ahead.
He contemplated for a moment, licking his chapped lips in slight discomfort. There was something about the girl, something off putting and ingenuine. She portrayed herself to be just the new exchange student, sweet and intelligent, but something about her fascination with him, it just wasn't right.
Or maybe that was his trust issues talking.
"He was asking for it," He explained, still refusing to look at her.
Saori didn't say anything, she didn't have to. Just being there with him was enough, even if she didn't get all of the answers she wanted. There was something about Ni-ki, something that made it impossible for her to stay away from him, despite the blaring signals of danger and ruin.
Maybe she wanted a bit of danger. Maybe she wanted to be ruined.
Then, quieter he finished: "Some people deserve worse. But no one seems to get what they deserve around here." His words are bitter, laced with an undercurrent of discontent. She so desperately wished to ask, to have him confide all of the secrets he held deep in his heart in her, but she couldn't.
It was too soon.
"I want to help." She says suddenly, tightening her arms around her folded knees.
"You don't even know what's going on–"
"I don't have to. I see you, I know there's more to you than what they say,"
Ni-ki scoffed, throwing his head back in genuine amusement. She was so naive, so naive it would get her into trouble. Trouble she couldn't afford.
"That's cute, it really is." He says demeaningly, his eyes boring into hers, as if she were a clueless child who was bothering him. "Stay away from me. Whatever it is you want from me, you'll never get."
And before she can refute his claim, he's gone, not a trace of his being there left behind. Only the strong scent of cigarettes, and a strange heaviness floating in the air.
𓇢𓆸
That night, Saori lay in the darkness of her room, not an ounce of light save for the small candle she lit by her bedside. Her journal lay splayed out, pencil in hand as she scribbled something down—not about school, but about him.
"There's something broken. I want to know where the crack starts."
She chews the end of her pencil, eyes tracing every curve of the letters that made up the simple sentence she wrote. After a short moment, she blows the delicate candle out, shrouds of darkness hovering over her like a blanket.
And for the first time in a while, she dreams. She dreams of a boy, slender and tall, eyes widened in horror, his back flush against the windowsill.
Then, he falls.
She shot up, ragged breath moving in and out of her mouth at irregular intervals. Her chest heaved, her throat beginning to feel as if it were closing in on itself. She clutched her neck, eyes bulging out of their sockets, finally catching her breath.
It was just a dream. But somehow, it didn't feel like hers.
Bloom.
End of BLOOM | NI-KI Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to BLOOM | NI-KI book page.