How To Break Your Nose In Style

There are few things crueler in life than being woken up two hours before your alarm is supposed to go off.

A horn blares outside my house, loud enough to rattle the glass on my window. I groan and burrow deeper under the covers, clutching my pillow like it could shield me from reality and drag me back into my pleasant dream. Then comes the persistent vibrations from my phone on the bedside table.

I blindly stretch out a hand, knocking over a water bottle and a half empty bag of gummy worms before finally grabbing the device. The screen lights up in blinding white, forcing my squinting eyes to read the flurry of aggressive texts:

Get up.

Gym time, mate.

If I have to break in, I will.

Taylor.

Of course it's Taylor.

I groan again, dramatically rolling onto my stomach. No way am I going outside right now. She can hurl threats from the driveway all she wants, I am firmly committed to being unconscious for at least another hour and fifty minutes.

I close my eyes.

Horn again. Longer this time.

Then my bedroom door crashes open.

"Seong Jin!" my mum snaps, her voice sharp enough to cut through my dreams. "Get rid of your friend!"

"I'm asleep," I mumble pathetically from beneath the quilt, hoping if I say it enough times she might believe me and get rid of my friend for me.

My mum is unimpressed. "Get out now, or I swear I will drag you out there myself."

Threats from Mum hit different. They are not idle; they come with consequences like getting the internet cut off for an entire week.

I peel the covers off my face, sighing tragically.

"Fine, I'm up," I grumble, stumbling out of bed and glaring at my phone as if it will digitally travel to Taylor.

After my draining wake up, courtesy of Taylor, I take the fastest shower known to man. Still half asleep, I throw on a pair of athletic shorts and a loose tee that smells faintly of fabric softener. My hair is still damp and the pillow crease still etched across my cheek feels permanent.

When I finally drag myself outside, blinking against the assault of early morning light, I spot a familiar car parked beside my house. But instead of her usual perch behind the wheel, she's in the passenger seat.

My brows furrow in confusion as I approach the vehicle.

And that's when I see him.

Edward.

Golden shaggy hair, casually tousled like he stepped out of a summer romance novel. His arms are resting across the back seat. The glint in his ocean blue eyes catches the sunlight perfectly, and my heart—a traitor—flutters like a butterfly on caffeine.

She didn't tell me he was coming.

I knock on the window.

Taylor rolls it down with indifference.

"Why is nobody sitting in the driver's seat?" I ask, suspicion creeping into my voice.

She gestures dramatically toward the empty space and replies, "Because Edward and I decided it would be good to get you to practice."

Practice what, ruining our lives?

Edward leans forward slightly, flashing me the kind of smile that turns my insides into mush. "Morning, sunshine," he chirps, lifting his fingers in a little wave.

Help, I may be dying.

"I just ran someone over a few days ago," I mumble, squinting into the car. "Do you seriously want to take that risk?"

Taylor shrugs effortlessly. "We're doing this precisely because you ran someone over."

Of course she would weaponise my failure and turn it into a life lesson.

I stare at the car before reluctantly making my way to the other seat.

I grip the wheel with all the confidence of a baby bird learning to fly.

Edward is in the back seat, leaning forward like a golden retriever made of charm and curiosity, his chin resting on the head of her seat. Taylor is beside me in the passenger seat, clutching a water bottle.

"Buckle up," I mutter cautiously.

Even though I might be talking to them, I'm mostly saying that to myself.

The car hums to life.

I shift into reverse slowly.

And promptly forget which pedal does what.

The car jerks backward, nearly sideswiping Franklin's ceramic plant stand.

"Brake!" Taylor yells, tapping the dashboard urgently. "Brake!"

"I am braking!" I yell back, though I may be gently caressing the accelerator in my panic so I quickly switch to the other pedal.

We come to an immediate stop.

Birds scatter from the trees.

A neighbour peeks through her curtains.

I take a breath.

"Wait, that was insane." Edward lets out a surprised laugh. "I mean, I knew you were a terrible driver but I didn't think it was that bad."

I shoot him a glare through the rearview mirror, which only makes him smile wider. He looks obnoxiously pretty when he's amused. It is distracting and infuriating and a dangerous combo.

"Okay, from now on be gentle on the pedals," Taylor explains. "Just imagine you're tiptoeing back into your house in the middle of the night after returning from a party."

I veer onto the street cautiously, shooting her a dry look. She knows full well I have never snuck back into my house after a party—mostly because my mum would never let me go to one in the first place.

The car squeals slightly but nothing alarming.

"Honestly, you're doing great, Seong Jin," Edward says from the backseat.

I throw a glance over my shoulder. "You don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying," he replies, genuine warmth in his voice. "I just value my life too much to make you nervous."

My press my lips together to hide my smile.

He's too calm. Too trusting. Too... Edward.

Taylor groans and reclines her seat. "Wake me up when we hit a tree."

"Not helpful."

"You almost ran over a squirrel three seconds ago."

I gasp. "Did I hit it?"

"No," Edward says reassuringly, checking behind us. "Taylor, don't freak him out."

Eventually, we pull into the gym car park in silence.

Taylor grips her water bottle as if to emotionally stabilise herself. Edward is in the back seat still smiling. Less because he's fine and more because he's the type to find near death experiences fun. Which might be why he enjoys going to amusement parks. And me? I'm just grateful we didn't end up crashing through the front doors and into a treadmill.

I cut the engine and let out a long breath, forehead resting on the steering wheel. "Okay, we made it. Nobody died."

Taylor unbuckles with robotic stiffness. "My thighs are still clenched from the moment you merged into traffic without indicating like an absolute madman."

Edward stretches slowly, leaning between the seats. "Honestly? That was... kind of exhilarating? In the way a theme park ride that is designed by someone with unresolved trauma is."

I glance back at him, scowling. "You mean me?"

He smiles. "Not naming names."

We shuffle out of the car.

The gym looks unusually menacing in the early light with its clean glass doors and pristine posters of happy people lifting weights as if they have never known despair.

I tug my hoodie tighter over my head as we approach the entrance.

The gym smells like rubber and protein powder. Morning sunlight slashes across the weight benches. I shiver beneath the unflattering glare of the fluorescent lights, goosebumps trailing down my arms. Taylor stands beside me, her blindingly neon leggings radiating a level of enthusiasm usually reserved for people who have overdosed on green smoothies.

"Why do you look so depressed?" she muses irritably, shoving a bottle of water into my hand.

"Because you dragged me out of bed at six in the morning to go to the gym on a school day," I reply, clutching the bottle to my chest.

She crosses her arms, ponytail bobbing from side to side. "If you don't treat your body like a temple, then you might as well drop fucking dead. I didn't want to say anything, but you're developing a bit of a double chin."

My hand shoots to my jaw, fingers prodding for evidence only to find nothing.

"But why are you lying?" I give her a wry look.

Instead of responding, Taylor claps once. "Anyway, warm up time. Jumping jacks. One... Two..."

I blink at her slowly. "Your energy level this early in the morning actually makes me want to throw up."

She's already bouncing beside me like a caffeinated kangaroo, ponytail swinging vigorously. "Yapping won't burn those calories, my little halfling."

My eye twitches. "If you call me that again, I swear I'll toss this water bottle at your big forehead."

Taylor grins amused, immune to threats.

With zero regard for my feelings, she pushes me onto the treadmill. I step up with the reluctance of someone entering a coffin. The machine whirs to life, the sound a low hum. I glare at it, questioning every decision that led me here.

"I didn't sign up for this," I mutter, beginning my slow march into agony on the treadmill.

"Yes, you did," Taylor says sweetly. "The moment you agreed to be my friend is the moment you agreed to support my passions."

"I only agreed to support your passions if they included baking cupcakes for Entrepreneur's Day. I never signed up to become your glorified gym goblin."

She tosses a towel at me as if to shut me up. "Ten minutes. You'll survive."

I make it exactly four minutes and thirty two seconds before collapsing onto the side rails, panting.

"That was good," she says, sipping from her water bottle. "Next time, we shoot for five."

I groan painfully.

On the other side of the room, Edward is lifting dumbbells. His arms flex, hair perfectly tousled. Why does he always have to look like he's auditioning for a fitness magazine even when he's just working out?

And then... he catches me staring.

My eyes widen awkwardly.

He grins, bright enough to knock oxygen out of my lungs.

Be still, my heart.

"You're more distracted than usual," Taylor says, breaking me out of my train of thought. "Did you finally get a boyfriend and forget to tell me?"

My knee buckles a little too dramatically, definitely not from the question. Definitely not because the word "boyfriend" reminds me of Edward. Her boyfriend.

She sits on the floor, stretching to touch her toes.

I, on the other hand, resemble a damp pigeon.

Shuffling over to grab my water bottle to buy some time, I take a long sip like it might wash away the guilt. 

"No," I say, voice flat. "Just a sore hamstrings from all the running."

Taylor watches me with the kind of piercing stare that sees everything. "But if you did get a boyfriend, would you hide it from me?"

I laugh—bad move. It comes out like static.

"Okay, that laugh tells me everything. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Taylor, no."

"But why are you barely making eye contact when you say that?"

I shrug, trying to play cool. Inside, my stomach is staging a riot. Because I could tell her that Dominic is blackmailing me. That the memory card full of confessions, including the one where I admit I liked Edward before she did, is being held hostage.

But I can't.

Because what kind of friend catches feelings for their best friend's boyfriend?

Not the kind Taylor deserves.

She squints, towel slung over her shoulder. "Oh my god, who the fuck are you in love with and why won't you tell me?"

There is a short circuit in my brain.

I swallow.

She's not wrong.

But she can't be right.

Not about the person I'm actually thinking about.

Which is why I blurt out the first deflection that comes to mind, "So... how are you and Edward doing?"

And just like that, I break myself.

Her face lights up like a Christmas tree, cheeks glowing and eyes going gooey soft as her entire posture shifts from interrogator to full on gusher. "Oh, Edward."

I nod, swallowing the ache behind my tongue. "Yeah. Edward."

She drops her towel on the bench and plops down beside me, bouncing a little like this topic has warmed her entire bloodstream. "He's been so sweet lately. Like disgustingly sweet. I think it's because it's our final year in school. When I told him I was going to the gym with you, he insisted on coming with us."

"Is it?"

"Yeah," she nods. "He also packed me some muffins from his dad's bakery the other day with a note. Like an actual handwritten note."

I force a sound. It's supposed to be "aw," but it comes out like a wheeze.

"And he's trying this new thing where he swims every other morning," she continues, counting off like she's reading from a proud girlfriend resume. "You know, because he wants to stay healthy and be more disciplined like me, which is so mature and I—ugh—I love him for it."

My insides collapse like scaffolding.

I nod numbly, like someone who definitely isn't internally compiling a list of reasons why they shouldn't be harbouring a massive crush on their best friend's boyfriend. Reason one, this exact moment. Taylor's soft smile. Her happiness. The way she says his name.

"And you know," she adds, sighing dreamily, "he asked about you the other day."

My heart jumps, then immediately trips and falls down the stairs.

I blink. "He what?"

Taylor smiles. "Just said you seemed a little quiet after losing your sketchbook. I thought it was kinda sweet he noticed."

I want to scream into a kettlebell.

Instead, I nod. "That's... nice."

Taylor nudges me with her elbow. "So, still gonna pretend you're not in love with someone?"

"I'm just tired," I lie again. "Blame the gym torture."

She squints at me, then sighs. "Fine. But if I find out you're secretly seeing someone and didn't tell me, I will make you do burpees until your soul leaves your body."

"You're already making me do burpees."

She smirks and tosses a resistance band at my chest. "Back to suffering, workout partner."

By the end of the workout, my arms feel like noodle appendages and I'm pretty sure my soul left the building somewhere around the third set of pushups. I am half draped over a medicine ball, very much contemplating my life.

Taylor is still going strong.

Her gaze cuts back to me and she says something about needing to use the toilet.

Then she leaves me with strict instructions before vanishing into the locker room: "Don't slack off. No posting gym selfies to fish for compliments. I will literally block you."

I pull out my phone anyway.

"Okay," I mumble into the front camera, adjusting the angle to avoid the fluorescent lighting that's making my skin look like poorly mixed pancake batter. "Gym update, I fucking hate it here. Taylor woke me up at about six in the morning and dragged me here. I am—"

One second I'm walking to the other side of the gym where I last saw Edward, the next I am making violent acquaintance with a mirrored wall. The crunch my nose makes on impact echoes across the gym.

Suddenly, gravity pulls me down.

I lie flat on the slick floor tiles, blinking up at a sterile ceiling grid. My phone slides away from my hand dramatically, screen down. A groan escapes my throat as I bring a hand up to my face. The throbbing in my nose feels persistent.

My vision swims in blurry streaks. 

My dignity? Not just bruised—it's been vaporised.

Then there's a shadow.

Someone kneels beside me, framed by flickering ceiling lights. For a disorienting second, I think I have crossed over and been greeted by a celestial intern in heaven.

He's ridiculously beautiful.

Soft brown hair falling onto his forehead. A warm complexion that glows under artificial light. One eye deep and earthy like fresh coffee. The other, a swirl of jade so intense it could have been painted by a goddess playing favourites. He looks like origami folded over spice. Definitely not your standard protein shake gym bro.

He peers down at me with a calm concern. "You good?" 

I squint, face still pulsating, nose still throwing a tantrum. "Are you an angel?"

"No," he says with the corners of his mouth quirking, helping me sit upright with one hand that's way too gentle for someone with biceps like that. 

"Ow..."

"You walked into a mirror," he says teasingly. "You might possibly be concussed."

Wait a minute...

My eyes widen slightly when I realise this isn't heaven, and I just called some random guy an angel. 

My cheeks blush.

"I—uh..." I attempt to speak, but my brain is buffering.

He cocks his head, one eyebrow lifted just enough to suggest he might be slightly amused. 

"I didn't mean to call you an angel."

"Don't worry," he says dismissively, his voice quiet. "At least you didn't compare me to something clapped.

I let out a wheeze-laugh that I immediately regret. My nose reminds me I'm still technically injured. "Did I walk into... something."

"The mirrors in here tend to attempt assassinations on people... especially those who are focusing all their attention on their phone." He reaches into his gym bag and pulls out a bunch of tissues. "Here. For your nose. It's bleeding."

"It is?" I freak out.

"Yup." He nods, tilting his head slightly. "Not gushing, but you are bleeding."

I press the tissue against my nose, blinking fast. "Am I dying?"

"That depends," he says, eyes scanning my face. "Do you usually bleed like this before death?"

"I've never died before," I mumble behind the tissue, wincing.

"But have you ever died from a nosebleed?"

"No."

He laughs quietly. "Then I think you might be good."

I peer at him over the tissue pile, blinking at the amused look in his heterochromatic eyes. "This is so humiliating."

"It's a little adorable," he replies casually, already rifling through his bag again as though expecting me to require a second round of medical attention. "Were you vlogging before impact?"

I freeze, cheeks heating. "No?"

"Uh-huh," he chuckles quietly, handing me my phone. "Whatever you say, Tripod."

I blink. "Tripod?"

"Yeah, people who vlog just give off tripod energy."

"Please never say that again."

He smirks and then pauses, studying my face like he's trying to confirm something. "Have we met before?"

I frown, still dazed. "Not that I'm aware."

I blink up through the haze of pain, searching his face for a flicker of recognition and find absolutely nothing.

He still offers his hand, brows furrowed in thought. "I'm Kai."

Switching hands on the tissue, I shake his hand. "Seong Jin."

Kai leans in just enough to inspect my face again, his gaze lingering worriedly. "You sure that thing's not fractured? I could've sworn I heard a crunch."

I peel the tissue off with cautious fingers, wincing. "It might be broken."

Before I can prepare for it, he reaches out and gently touches the bridge of my nose. It's featherlight, barely pressure but my body jolts as if I have been zapped by something far more electric than pain.

I flinch.

He immediately pulls back, his fingers suspended in the air. 

"Sorry," he says, voice warmer. "It doesn't look broken."

I blink up at him, surprised by how close he suddenly is. The gym suddenly feels quieter. When his rich eyes meet mine, I forget what broken feels like.

"Yeah," I say, softer now. 

He pulls out a miniature bottle of antiseptic from his gym bag like it's the most normal thing in the world, holding it up between two fingers with casual precision.

"Hold still," he says softly, as if this routine is second nature.

I squint at the bottle, perplexed. "You seriously carry a first aid kit around?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "People tend to injure themselves near me more than I'm statistically comfortable with. Clumsy people... like you."

Before I can respond, he leans in and carefully brushes the antiseptic against my nose. His touch is light, deliberate in its kindness. 

"Might be the universe trying to tell me I'm cursed," he adds, half joking.

I stare at him, those mismatched eyes catching the light. "You don't look cursed," I murmur, my voice nearly lost to the sting of the slight pressure on my nose.

"Oh?" His brow lifts, just enough mischief to knock the air out of my lungs. "I mean, you did just call me an angel a few minutes ago so..."

I bite down on my bottom lip, instantly regretting the audible flirt I let slip into the ether. "Uh... I mean..."

He just smiles—a knowing curve at the corner of his mouth. "You definitely hit your head harder than I thought."

When our eyes meet again, his are still playfully sharp. 

I glance away before I combust.

He returns to dabbing my nose, careful and focused, like he has done this dozens of times before with younger siblings or clumsy friends or maybe just a rotating cast of gym floor casualties.

And despite the sharp scent of antiseptic, I swear I see actual sparkles dancing around him.

"So what brings you here at dawn?" he asks, still focused on his handiwork.

"My psychopathic best friend thinks pre-school cardio is good for character development."

He glances at the massive wall clock. "That usually starts after breakfast."

"I didn't even get to eat breakfast." I wince as the bandage sticks awkwardly.

"That's not good, Tripod."

I groan. "You're not dropping the nickname, are you?"

"It suits you," he replies, casually peeling the wrapper off another bandage.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

He shrugs, smiling.

We sit there for another few seconds in quiet, the buzz of treadmills and clanking weights filling in the awkward peace. I glance at him again, this walking paradox of gentleness and unpredictable humour.

There is something about him, familiar in a way that scratches just beneath the surface of my recognition. But nothing clicks. Just that weird sense of I should know you.

I lean back slightly after he finishes his handiwork, sighing through my nose which still hurts and mutter, "Thank you. For patching me up."

"Any time, Tripod." Kai tosses the used wrappers into a gym bin. "Try to survive until lunch, yeah?"

I nod with an amused grin.

As he walks away, I stare after him, nose throbbing in sync with my heart doing mildly inconvenient flips. Somewhere deep in my brain, a vague memory teases me but refuses to step forward.

Taylor rounds the corner out of the locker room, her ponytail swishing.

She skids to a stop in front of me, still sprawled on the floor, forehead shiny with post shame and a crooked bandage on my nose. Her eyes flick to the mirror across the room, then back to me, narrowing like laser beams of rage.

"What the hell happened?" she asks, voice sharp and full of suspicion.

I hold up my hands. "I faceplanted into a mirror while... taking a video."

She doesn't laugh. "Okay, who do I need to beat up?"

Instead, she scans the space like she's searching for someone to throw hands at.

I blink. "It wasn't a person."

"Seong Jin, you look like you lost a fight with someone. Who did this to you? Did someone shove you?"

"No one shoved me."

Her fists stay clenched. "Did you trip someone? Flirt with the wrong guy? Spill protein shake on a gym bro's white tank top?"

I sigh. "Taylor, I walked into glass. Like a pigeon. I would love to tell you otherwise but the mirror was literally my enemy."

She stares at me for a long beat, then deflates slightly. "You're hopeless."

But then her eyes flick past me and land on Kai, who is lingering near the free weights and sipping water.

She raises a brow. "And... who is that?"

I hesitate. "He helped me after the whole thing. Gave me this bandage. Said his name was Kai."

"Kai, huh?" she murmurs. "He's kinda hot, no?"

I whisper, "You have a boyfriend."

"So?" she scoffs. "I can still look."

I roll my eyes.