chapter two ;; jeon jeongguk
jeongguk's perspective
°☆.。.:*・°☆

I considered today to be my lazy day, as in Monday. I was too tired from not getting enough sleep last night (go figure). Figure hunched over and carrying a twenty-pound backpack, I trudge through the hallway along with the rest of the crowd. Other people are much more energetic than I am, but that's how it usually goes.

Earbuds remain jammed in my ears to some calming melodic tune. Crowds have never been my thing. Too much chaos and not enough pristine order. Too much sound and not enough voice in me to yell shut up. Though I'm a respectful person and it's not all up to my ideals. If someone wants to be extremely loud and annoying, so be it, I just won't take my time to outwardly acknowledge it.

A shoulder bangs into mine, small body lurching forward at the forceful impact. Arms extending out on instinct to cushion the fall, I never reach the ground. For once I kept my clumsy balance, but whoever slammed into me sure doesn't seem to care. It's a boy. I can tell that it is. Only boys can posses such a force while running.

As the boy zooms past me, brown and green hair springing about, his body quickly flicks to look at me, "Sorry." His voice projects haphazardly before turning back around and running again.

I walk to my over-crowded locker in the middle of the hallway, inwardly frowning at the people I have to push through in order to get to it. That is, until someone wraps their arm around my shoulders, bringing me extremely close, "Greetings Jeongguk!" His voice rings familiar and confident.

"Hi Jimin." I quietly respond and glance over at the boy who's large cheeks turn his eyes into crescents.

"Here, I got this." Jimin says, letting go of the tight grip around my tiny frame, "Everyone, back up." Jimin loudly expresses, putting his arms out so the large group divides into two, "Precious cargo coming through." He adds at the end, turning back, "See? Easy."

"Thanks." Trailing through the almost clear path to my locker, I mumble.

"No problem," Jimin beams once more, "I'll see you later, okay?" Before I can respond, he's running off. Jimin's been this way since playground years, running to other places all he could.

Jimin was the only one to give effort towards my existence back then. That fact remains true till this day and is shyly coaxed into the chest.

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A blue sticky note hangs from my four fingers, the sticky edge clinging onto the skin as my arms swing about. All they gave me was a class number when explains I'd been transfered, no heads up or sense of direction. I'm guessing that they expected me to know the numbers by heart. The thing that frightened me the most is the fact my sticky note is blue. Blue is the locker color down where the Seniors are. It could've been a coincidence I'm sure, but I can't help but become even more nervous from the possibility.

Looking down at the number once more, I know that I'm in deep shit now. I roll my eyes in defeat while biting down on my lower lip. It reads 'Room Number #125', which only confirms my assumption before. Each grade class numbers start with different ones, ranging from nine to twelve. Mine starts with twelve, meaning that I need to head straight for the Senior hall.

Most people would tell me that I'm okay and the eldest groups don't really bother the young because they're too focussed on going to college or whatever. Personally, I find that to be a bunch of bullshit. Of course they focus on the younger people. I even focus on the people younger than me. It's just human nature to compare yourselves to them, snickering at their foolish behavior. I knew exactly what I had to prepare for, and my mind could only assume the worst.

Blue lockers loom into my view as I continue to walk, mentally complaining about the distance from my hall to this one. If I'm supposed to be on time every day, I need to be quick. It's extremely difficult to run through packed halls with everyone walking in different directions all at once, so I knew that I was going to struggle from now on. As I finally enter the Senior hall, my footsteps become much slower and quieter, afraid to disturb anything by walking too loudly, even breathing too loudly. I peak through classroom windows, observing the people inside. Some would meet my eyes, so I'd quickly walk away from the door completely out of embarrassment.

Finally, Room #125 stands to the side of me, an English class my advanced-placement self shall now reside. Once realizing that I have no way out of this, my small hand reaches out for the door handle, and I brace myself before pulling down and pushing forward. The door hinges creak as it slowly opens, revealing myself to the rest of the class. All eyes instantly swarm like an abundance of bees, but I make sure to direct my attention to the teacher at the desk and her only.

"You're late." She says in a monotone voice without looking up. My mouth slowly opens, afraid to speak out and say that I'm not one of her normal students, but she questions the silence, realizing her mistake.

"Oh," Mrs. Ka bursts in a surprised tone, "I didn't expect to see you until next week." She smiles. I let out a breath while smiling for barely a second, feeling awkward with people still staring, "Well, aren't you going to come over here?" Mrs. Ka asks in a joking manner. I felt flustered. Quickly, my legs move along the sides of the classroom and over to her desk, "I suspect that you're Jeongguk?" She asks.

"Yeah." I quietly answer.

"Everyone, get back to work." She orders. Glancing behind me out of curiosity, I'm met with a few people still looking up, one of them being an alarming pair of eyes. My mouth goes into a line at the sight of the boy from earlier blatantly staring, "You'll be sitting over there." Mrs. Ka speaks, drawling me out of my thoughts.

"Hm?" I question before seeing her outstretched hand directed towards a desk in the back, "Oh."

"Take this with you. It's what we're working on right now. I'm sure that you'll catch on quickly from what I've seen in the grade book," She smiles from her seated position, "Before you go over there-" Mrs. Ka stands up, placing her hands on my shoulders and turning me around so I face the abundance of people, "Everyone, this is Jeongguk. He's a Junior that'll be joining us for the rest of the school year. Treat him respectfully and make him feel welcomed." I receive many different looks, some people send devious glints, some send welcoming smiles, and others just seem to not care at all.

I grab the sheet out of Mrs. Ka's hand once she's done introducing me and make my way over to the desk in the corner. My head hangs low as I walk, watching my legs move with each step I take.

A Nike shoe precipitously outstretches in the middle of my path, stopping exactly where I stand.

I look up at the owner to see a boy of messy brown hair and a sarcastic sort of smile. My eyes roll at his behavior, stepping over his foot and continuing to walk.

I ungracefully flop into the stiff plastic chair behind the desk now meant to be mine, scanning over the paper, only taking out key words and going from there. We're doing narrative writings and using an emotion we've felt in the past to create a story. I'm intrigued. Mrs. Ka recommends that we use a life-impacting event that inflicted this emotion, and many drowning memories flick through like book, but one specifically stands out: Loss. I'm glad that I can release the pent up emotion but hide behind the truth from which it originates and painfully blooms.

I grab my binder, pulling it open and unlocking the rings, to which I cringe at the loud click while peeling out the lined paper. My thin fingers wrap around the blue mechanical pencil laying stationary, and the point touches down on the paper, but I don't begin to write yet. A pair of eyes felt prominently towards my direction are too harsh to ignore, making me feel uncomfortable. I gaze at the source, wavering, only to be met with the same slimmed brown eyes from the boy in the hallway.

His own pencil is touching the paper, and he's frozen like a deer caught in headlights, although his lips and eyes remain in a relaxed position. We hold the line of eye contact for a while, me being the first to look down. Maybe he wanted to say something, or he possibly felt some sort of burden towards what happened earlier. I don't blame him for staring in that case.

"Okay!" Mrs. Ka loudly exclaims to get the class' attention, "I feel like that's enough time to get you started on your rough drafts." I put my pencil down, upset, "Jeongguk, you'll have to spend at least twenty minutes on yours for homework tonight. I think that's all. Tomorrow we will disc-" The bell rings and everyone stands up from their desks. Mrs. Ka protests for people to sit back down, but no one listens and neither do I.

I really did attempt to be the first one out of the classroom in order to hopefully beat the crowd. It was a poor choice whilst being shoved until my body was finally put into its place at the very back. The brown and green haired boy pushes past me, grabbing my full attention, yet he's quick to leave as well.

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Literally no one's reading this, but imma keep updating nd talking like they do anyways.

I'm sorry that these updates are kinda boring. They'll get more entertaining soon, trust me.