The boy left the kitchen, looking back every few steps.
He didn't go back to his room.
He took out his homework in the living room.
With finals approaching, the homework for every subject had piled up.
The main difference was that worksheets had been added to the usual assignments.
So even though he'd made the most of every minute at school to get his homework done, he still had plenty left to do at home.
Besides written assignments, the teachers had also assigned lots of revision work.
They'd be checking it in class the next day.
Time was tight.
But right now, the boy had no interest in doing his homework.
His pen hovered above his workbook.
Completely still.
Every so often, he glanced toward the kitchen.
His ears perked up.
He didn't want to miss a single sound from inside.
His heart was caught in a strange conflict.
It was agonizing.
It was restless.
Like an undercurrent beneath a calm surface.
On the outside, he seemed perfectly composed.
The boy pursed his lips.
He gripped his pen so tightly, it was as if he meant to snap it in half.
Of course,
that was impossible.
He might have managed it with a pencil.
He'd seen a boy in his class do it before.
That boy had a stubborn streak.
He was always challenging himself.
And brooding in silence.
Whenever his temper flared, he would clutch a pen tightly in his hand.
The first time they saw him actually snap one in half, everyone was astonished for a long time.
But as they got older, they hardly ever saw him get angry that way anymore.
The boy was holding a black ballpoint pen now.
He didn't know whether anyone else could do it.
Anyway, he wasn't