VENOM
06: Strange Crushes

That is not a dance teacher, that's a bully.

Stop talking to me, Duye.

You know, I haven't eaten anyone since I entered your body. I'm sure you would not mind if we just took him, huh? I mean, look at the way he's glaring at our Hanbin. How dare he!

I'll turn Henry and Jake into fried chicken and feed them to Gyuvin if you say one more word.

No! Not my babies!

"Hao . . . are you okay?" Bora's voice snaps him out of his telepathic conversation in his head. He blinks a few times and glances at his classmate, who is looking at him like he's lost his mind. Which, in hindsight, he probably has.

He's had Duye in his body for a couple of weeks, his chamber orchestra concert is nearing and Taerae is out there making headlines and saving the city with his silly little suit. Duye kept pestering him about also doing heroic things instead of him studying all the time, but he knows she just wants to find terrible people to scare.

Though, he wouldn't say she's useless per se. Not when in the past three exams, she's been an encyclopedia of knowledge and managed to read all his textbooks and somehow remember everything. He doesn't want to admit it, but she's smart. Way smarter than him.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He fixes his gaze on her forehead, rather than her eyes. "Did Mr Baek say something important?"

"We're paired up for a project, due next week."

"Really?" He curses inwards. Bora freaks him out a little. Maybe it's the way she looks at him like she sees his muscular system and not his epidermis. Or maybe it's her acting like she has a crush on him when he knows for sure that's not the case—yeah, that's it. He just can't read her or her intentions.

Bora tugs a strand of hair behind her hair and nods.

Pfft. She's lying to you. Everyone gets to pick their own partner.

Shut up, Duye. I don't trust you.

Duye goes quiet.

Bora grips his wrist and drags him to the corner of the practice room, to which he simply complies. From the corner of his eyes he sees a disgusted Jieqiong and a confused Yangyang not-so-discreetly point at the pair.

"Let's pick a song," she says and slumps onto the floor with her phone in her hand. Hao awkwardly stands up, trying to think of an excuse to get out of there.

"You know . . . I'm not feeling the best right now. Can we postpone this?"

A hint of annoyance crosses her face quickly before it disappears. But Hao knows what he saw—it's not the first time she tries to mask herself around him, and it's precisely why she unsettles him so much. Why is she trying so hard?

"That's okay, Hao. How about we meet at my house later this week?"

Hao nods, makes a quick excuse to Mr Baek and leaves. God, she gives me the creeps.

He makes his way to his dorm, but as soon as he enters and spots Jiwoong lounging in his bed playing with Duye's chickens, he leaves immediately. He doesn't have the energy to deal with his former roommate—who still treats it as his room—and it doesn't help that Duye always fangirls over him. Though he never understood why. What does she see in him that Hao doesn't have?

Sure, Jiwoong has abs and he's bulky and he looks like a vampire and he likes her chickens, but he's not her human. Hao is.

What should we do today? Hao walks around some more on the campus. At this hour of the day everyone is attending their lessons or holed up in the library studying. Hao knows he should do the latter, but for some reason he doesn't want to. He almost doesn't recognize himself. Something feels off, like something important is missing, but he can't figure out what exactly it is.

He decides to go home. He hasn't seen his mom since the day at the hospital. She's a busy person, but she still made sure to text him daily. He promised to be a dutiful son and visit her at least once a month, but he is awfully terrible at keeping his promise.

Hao walks to the central and holds his hand up for a taxi. One taxi stops and he gets into the backseat and buckles his seatbelt.

"Where to?" the driver asks, before looking back at him through the rearview mirror. His eyes widen and he clears his throat. "Sir," he adds.

Hao tells him the address and he drives off. Throughout the ride, the driver looks back at him nervously, and Hao feels suffocated by the stale atmosphere. So awkward.

At last, the driver asks, "Are you not the raw meat guy?"

"What?" Hao is taken aback, before remembering that not even a month ago he made it to international news. At school he's Zhang Hao, but everywhere else he's the Raw Meat Guy. It's his legacy, and he has no choice but to accept it.

"The raw meat guy. You ate fifty kilos of meat!"

"Yeah, that's me." Hao scratches the back of his head.

The driver parks the taxi in front of his apartment complex and turns to look at Hao. "Can I please get a picture with you?"

"Uh . . . Sure."

Hao takes a quick selfie with him, pays for the ride and gets out of the car. I hate you, Duye.

Wait . . . Suddenly he realizes why it's been so off. Duye has been awfully quiet since he left the class. It's so unlike her.

Duye?

No response.

He groans. Are you ignoring me?

Again, no response.

He thinks back to what happened in the practice room and remembers the last thing she said. Are you sulking? Oh my. I didn't think you were so sensitive.

He walks to his apartment while trying to prompt Duye to talk. He doesn't understand why she would be mad over him telling her to shut up—that's literally all he says to her and she's never minded it.

Can you call Hanbin?

He pauses outside his door. Hanbin? Are you ditching me again?

Hanbin trusts me at least.

I didn't know you were a cheater.

To that she says nothing. Hao enters his apartment. "Mom!" he shouts, shaking for his shoes.

Moments later his mom hurries out of the kitchen, a yellow apron wrapped around her torso. "Oh, Hao! I'm so glad you're here! Can you please go get some leeks and cucumbers? Your dad and aunt are coming tonight and I don't think we have enough to last for them all. Thanks." She runs back into the kitchen.

Hao sighs, puts on his shoes and leaves. As he's walking to the closest greengrocer, he tries talking to Duye again, but she's giving him the silent treatment.

Come on, Duye. Please. Let's talk. I'll let you . . . Play hero. Let's go save some people after today, huh?  I'll get you every chocolate in the convenience store. Even some new chickens. Please. Talk to me!

But she's still quiet. He exasperatedly swings the bag of vegetables back and forth and walks in the direction of his home, past the many alleys and street vendors. One specific alley causes him to halt though. Hao gasps, covering his mouth with his hands.

Pinned against the wall by none other than Jaemin is Bora.

Hao looks between the two of them in disbelief. Sure, he doesn't particularly like Jaemin, but he likes Jieqiong. She's one of his closest friends, and the fact that Jaemin is doing something that would definitely hurt her just made him pissed beyond words.

Bora catches sight of him and sighs, visibly annoyed. Jaemin follows her gaze and his eyes widen.

"Bora . . . Let's go . . ." He pushes away from her.

"No, babe," she says, pulling him back. "This is your perfect chance to get your revenge. He's all alone, all pathetic."

Hao stands there frozen. He already knew Bora isn't fond of him, but to hear her talk about him this way . . . It unsettles him. A part of him hoped he's been misunderstanding her, but now he feels like he's been lied to.

"You don't get it," Jaemin tries to explain. "He's—he's not fucking normal, okay?"

Bora rolls her eyes and stalks towards Hao. Then she draws back her arm and punches him with as much force as she can.

Bora's ring catches against his cheek and draws blood, a lot of blood, soaking her fingers red. She stares at her hand for a few seconds before pulling it to her mouth and—

Duye laughs hysterically. Jaemin just stands there in complete shock. Hao himself isn't sure what to do, so he turns on his heels and walks off. His cheeks sting for a few moments before the pain completely disappears and what's left is a streak of dried blood.

Hao, Duye finally says. You are forgiven. We've got a much bigger problem on our hands, though.

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