Minho had been at the boarding school for three weeks when he decided he hated every single person in it.

The school was the kind of place parents sent their children when they had run out of ideas. Grey stone buildings. Locked gates. Strict uniforms. Teachers who believed detention could solve anything.

Minho had been sent there after his parents discovered exactly what he’d been doing outside school.

Dealing drugs.

Apparently, their solution had been to ship him off somewhere with twelve-foot fences and a dress code.

He wasn’t impressed.

At nineteen, Minho was tall, lean, permanently bored-looking, and almost always wearing his uniform incorrectly. His tie was either missing, hanging loose around his neck, or shoved into his pocket. His shirt was never tucked in. His blazer was usually somewhere on the floor of his trashed dorm room.

He had a detention almost every day.

Most of them involved fighting.

Usually, someone had simply looked at him wrong.

Minho didn’t need friends.

Friends were distractions.

He needed to get out.

Then there was Jeongin.

Shorter than Minho, slim, quiet, and strange enough that the entire school had given him a nickname.

The Freak.

Nobody knew exactly what was wrong with him.

Jeongin would wake up in the middle of the football field at three in the morning without remembering leaving his dorm.

He appeared in places without anyone seeing him arrive.

He sometimes spoke in sentences that made absolutely no sense.

And occasionally, he would casually mention something that wouldn’t happen until days later.

The worst part was that he was always right.

People avoided him.

Jeongin didn’t seem particularly bothered.

He simply wandered through the school with that distant look in his eyes, as if part of him was somewhere nobody else could see.

Minho’s first interaction with him happened at lunch.

Minho had been one bad comment away from punching someone, so he picked the emptiest table in the dining hall and sat down.

Jeongin was already there.

Minho dropped into the seat opposite him.

Jeongin looked up.

“Minho.”

Minho froze.

He stared at him.

“How the do you know my name?”

Jeongin blinked.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

Jeongin went back to eating.

Minho stared at him for another few seconds.

“You’re fucking weird.”

Jeongin smiled faintly.

“I know.”

That should have been the end of it.

It wasn’t.

A week later, Minho was lying on the football field long after curfew, staring up at the sky with a cigarette between his fingers.

For once, he was alone.

The school was silent.

No teachers.

No students.

No irritating voices.

Perfect.

Minho exhaled smoke into the cold night air.

Then he heard a voice beside him.

“You shouldn’t smoke.”

Minho nearly jumped out of his skin.

He turned his head.

Jeongin was lying beside him.

Minho stared.

Jeongin stared back.

There had been nobody there a second ago.

Minho slowly sat up.

“What the ?”

Jeongin looked at the cigarette.

“Smoking is bad for you.”

“You weren’t here.”

“I am now.”

Minho stared at him.

Jeongin smiled.

Minho rubbed his face.

“You’re fucking weird.”

“You said that already.”

“And I’ll keep saying it.”

“I know.”

For some reason, Minho didn’t leave.

He stayed on the football field.

Jeongin stayed beside him.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

Then Jeongin looked toward the school building.

“You’re going to try to escape tomorrow.”

Minho’s expression changed.

Slowly, he turned toward him.

“What?”

Jeongin continued staring ahead.

“You’ll make it over the first fence.”

A pause.

“Not the second.”

Minho narrowed his eyes.

“How do you know that?”

Jeongin finally looked at him.

“I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“You.”

Minho stared at him.

Jeongin’s expression remained strangely calm.

“Running.”

Minho crushed his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“You’re fucking weird.”

Jeongin smiled.

“And you’re going to get caught.”

For the first time since arriving at the school, Minho wasn’t sure whether he wanted to escape anymore.

Because maybe the strangest thing about the boarding school wasn’t the locked gates.

Maybe it was the boy who kept appearing beside him without warning.

And somehow always knew what Minho was going to do next.