narrowing his eyes; then⎯⎯⎯a roguish grin, a sudden mischief, dispels the erstwhile severity.⠀⠀⠀⠀“the art of war by sun tze. if you manage to finish this book⎯⎯⎯then i'll spar with you.”
⠀⠀⠀⠀only then⎯⎯⎯does he spare a mere glance; barely noticeable, were he not so occupied with the abnegation of his own fangs, maybe he would've humored him a little.⠀⠀⠀⠀“there you go,”⠀⠀⠀⠀the notebook shuts with +̲
SONG KI–HYUN TAKES 𝟭𝟲𝟳% 𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗟 𝗗𝗔𝗠𝗔𝗚𝗘 AT THAT STATEMENT [ ❗️❗️❗️ ] and another 42 to his pride. h̶e̶ ̶i̶s̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶t̶h̶ ̶h̶w̶a̶j̶i̶n̶-̶n̶i̶m̶'̶s̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶?̶ rage settles between his teeth, biting down to keep it in his mouth.
a muted clap,⠀⠀⠀⠀“if you want to fight your way out of every situation you're in,”⠀⠀⠀⠀wood groans as the chair pivots toward him,⠀⠀⠀⠀“you'll eventually find yourself in a situation where you'll have them tied up.” +̲
⠀⠀⠀⠀monotonous click o' tongue as legs reposition it's crossing,⠀⠀⠀⠀“i don't wanna waste my break time beating you up,”⠀⠀⠀⠀gaze never receding from his task at hand; ballpoint pen scribbling 'gainst crumpled edges.⠀⠀⠀⠀﹢̱
an exaggerated wheeze rips out of his throat, finding purchase flat against the floor as hand presses on the spot. once—twice—another wheeze. ‘ team leader nim. i'm growing weak—i—i'm dying! and it's because you won't fight me! ’