The numbers glared back at me from the projector screen: 80%. My stomach clenched. "Moon Y/n? Your group got 80%." The words felt like a personal insult, especially when my groupmates, who had done next to nothing, looked completely unfazed.

The bell shrieked, a merciful sound signaling lunchtime. I shoved my laptop into my bag, the weight of my frustration pressing down on me. I climbed the familiar steps to the rooftop, my usual sanctuary. The wind was a cool embrace as I pushed open the door, stepping out into my solitary haven.

I settled down, pulling out my lunch, but the food tasted like ash. That 80%. All my effort, all my sleepless nights, for an 80% that wasn't even mine. Tears pricked at my eyes. I hated this about myself, crying over the simplest things, especially when I was frustrated.

Driven by the melodramatic heroines of my dramas, I stepped onto the ledge, gripping the railings. "I hate you all!" I yelled into the empty sky, the words raw and choked. "I hope you fail your other subjects too! You didn't even help me but you still got an 80! You should be thanking me right now! F... Fu-- aish!" Another failure. I couldn't even curse properly.

I sighed, stepping back down, only to be startled by a deep voice. "Fvck you."

My head snapped up. Lee Minho. THE Lee Minho. He was leaning against the wall on the other side of the rooftop, eyes closed. My heart hammered against my ribs.