It was evident that Yora was distracting me with those wonderfully convenient facts he’d just spilled outside, but it honestly felt like he was mostly pushing me from looking at something else entirely.

Once our bedroom door closed behind me, I could feel my brows creasing more intensely as it dawned on me that Yora was keeping other facts about himself a secret . . . and yet it was almost like I could see right through him at times, like he was crying out for help. I had no faint idea as to how to approach him with what he wanted from me. That was our main problem.

I could not touch him, I could not ask him questions without knowing he was hiding even more beneath his mask—all of this, including the fact that we were literally sharing a room . . . was confusing to me.

When Yora turned to me, I could tell he recognized that I was not at all pleased by something. The way he caught onto my moods was convenient. I didn’t have to say anything for him to understand what I was feeling.

And in that moment, I was definitely feeling the slightest bit angry.

I’d figured out something, something that had been hidden in between the words he’d told me, when we’d been sitting in that kitchen.

‘How do you know?’

Those words I’d said, along with his reply to it, held a much deeper meaning.

“Do you realize that you’ve been trying to persuade me that you’re a bad person?” I blatantly said.

Yora, seemingly not expecting that from me, stayed still. “Pardon?”

“How do you know that I wouldn’t die for someone?” I approached him with my finger pointed directly at his chest. If I could’ve, I would have made my point clearer by poking him, so that he could finally understand me, but of course that was something I could never do.

I could tell that he was getting the gist of why I was so upset, though I did not allow him to defend himself from my accusations.

“You told me all about your cigarettes to deter me from saving you.” I said outright.

His eyes did widen at that, but he closed them and tried not to look at me. “John—”

“It was dangerous enough when you told me about them, since I could’ve potentially hated you for making such things, but . . .” But I don’t hate you, Yora.

I felt sorry for him. Surprisingly.

He didn’t know that, though. And that was why he’d told me that I wouldn’t die for a stranger.

I lowered my finger, “You really think that I hate you that much?”

Yora did not speak.

“I don’t know you enough to make such an opinion.” I said. I nearly felt like laughing. “It’ll be really bad if I find out you’re a good person, right? Because I won’t save you if you’re terrible.”

“What if I don’t want you to save me at all?” He spoke defiantly.

Shaking my head at him, I simply stared at his pristine appearance. Despite his curled hair, now frizzier from the falling rain, he looked like a real gentleman in the uniform.

It would’ve been more fitting if he appeared more defeated after revealing all of those secrets, but he kept his composure professionally. “At first, you wanted me to be the hero, to save you all from this situation . . . and now you’re convincing me that you don’t want to be saved.” I nodded. “I understand a little more now.”

Yora looked at me in confusion.

“You’re . . .” I began, but I did not continue.

I knew that if I went on with my realization, I would’ve made Yora feel uncomfortable. I guessed that he was painting a bad picture of himself, though I did not totally understand why.

Like the gloves, and like the mask, he was pushing me away.

“You’re pushing me away, and leading me far from you.” I said, instead of what I really wanted to say. “You might be doing that to deter me from seeing you as the murderer, or maybe—”

Maybe there’s a darker reason.

“It’s frustrating.” I told him, when our eyes finally locked.

Yora, still standing before me, stepped aside to lean on the bedpost. Neither of us were actually comfortable in each other’s presence. That was obvious. We were like oil and water.

And to be in the presence of the bed that we had to share was both amusing and ridiculous to me.

What were we really doing?

My roommate rose from his position, reminding me again of his height, which was heightened by the tall heels of his shoes. “John . . .” He started, in a soft tone.

Without a warning, the speaker above our door began to emit a muffled sound, like static.

Within a second, our heads shot up to look at the speaker, as if the professor would physically come out of it to scare us. It was scary enough hearing the unknown man’s voice from afar.

Yora, coming to my side, stepped in front of me, as if that action would prevent the professor from hurting me. It reminded me of what Cig had done in the hallway on the way to dinner.

I doubted any of them could successfully protect me, despite Yora’s claims that he could.

Even with that opinion of mine, I stayed behind him, and prevented myself again when I unconsciously reached my hand out to hold his arm. He was so close. I did not think he realized how much our distance had shortened when the voice came.

“ . . . students,” The professor said too calmly, it came out quite eerie. “Now that you have assigned your roommates, classes will begin much more easily.”

I looked down to see Yora’s gloved hands fist, the leather of that material stretching in his anger.

“Science and Math are the first subjects we must focus on, boys.” The man stated, “I have already let one student know of our newest schedule . . . and now it is up to you to find him, so that he will inform you on what you need to do next . . . because if you don’t . . .” The voice paused, before saying, “ . . . you will be expelled for missing classes.”

The noises of static began to pop as the professor went on. I wished that I could hear the other men, to know what they were thinking, but I could not hear them at all. Were we that far away from the others?

“Of course . . . you must exit your dormitories in order to do that.” The professor said. Without seeing it, I could tell that he must’ve been smiling. “I am eagerly awaiting your arrival, dear students.”

And with that, a sharp sound from the other end of the speaker indicated that the professor must’ve ended the announcement.