Chapter Text
Park Seonghwa walks to his locker, already knowing what he’ll find. He walks up to the metal door, starting at the words painted there.
Fucking kill yourself, pretty boy.
He just sighs. He’s used to it by now. He doesn’t care who wrote it. He has an idea. He opens the door, gets what he needs, shoves in the stuff he doesn’t, then slams it back shut.
He hears taunts thrown at him as he walks to his classroom.
“How’s it going, pretty boy?”
“Have you seen your locker?”
They never acknowledge that he has a name. Its always ‘pretty boy’. It would almost sound like a compliment, but he knows it’s not. They don’t call him pretty to boost his self esteem, they say it to rub in that he’ll never be one of them.
…
He sits after school in the school library, studying for a test tomorrow, when he hears someone sit down beside him.
“How’s it going, pretty boy?”
Seonghwa ignores him, working on a math problem before a hand rips the paper away. “Ignoring me?”
“Don’t you have sports practice or something?”
“It was cancelled because of the rain. I thought I’d come visit you. Didn’t want you to be lonely.”
“If you didn’t want want me to be lonely, you wouldn’t have written ‘fucking kill yourself, pretty boy’ on my locker this morning,” Seonghwa tells the other boy, angrily snatching the paper back and adjusting his glasses.
The boy shakes his head. “I didn’t write that, I promise.”
“And what is your promise worth? Less than dirt.”
“You better watch your pretty little mouth. It’s going to get you into trouble someday,” he says, tone turning deadly serious.
“Why do you even hate me so much? I’m curious. Did I do something? Or are you just jumping on the bandwagon? You’re the one who came up with ‘pretty boy’ though. Why did you do it?”
“Well... Wooypung doesn’t like you, and he’s my best friend. To be honest, Im not exactly sure why he doesn’t like you, but it’s hard to like someone your friend hates, you know?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have friends.”
“Yes you do.”
Seonghwa shakes his head. “Thanks to you and Wooyoung.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“You’re not, though. I walk down the hall and no one even knows my name. It’s just ‘pretty boy’, ‘pretty boy’, ‘pretty boy’.”
“I wasn’t trying to be mean when I called you ‘pretty boy’. I just said it because you’re pretty and you’re a boy, and I didn’t know your name. It wasn’t an insult.”
“Well it sure feels like an insult when I walk into class and hear you, the great Kim Hongjoong who everybody fucking loves talking to Jung Wooyoung and Choi San saying ‘pretty boy’s a whore’.”
“I didn’t-“
“You did. And you say I’m a whore, but I’m practically the only person in the school that hasn’t slept with you, so who’s the whore now?”
Hongjoong grabs his hand. “I told you to watch your mouth. And I bet you wish I would sleep with you. Sorry my standards aren’t that low.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He gets up and walks out.
“Pretty boy! Don’t walk away from me!”
“If you want me to listen to you, maybe call me by my name.”
“Seonghwa. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Seonghwa says nothing, only continues walking. He didn’t actually expect Hongjoong to know.
“Wait! Seonghwa!”
Seonghwa only walks faster. He feels Hongjoong grab his backpack, roughly turning him around.
“Seonghwa. I didn’t come in here just to chat. I have to ask you something.”
Seonghwa shakes his head. “Don’t touch me. Just go away.”
“Seong-“
Seonghwa tears himself free. “I said go away!”
Seonghwa knows he’s crying, so he turns and walks away as fast as he can, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes. He gets home, going to his room to study. His grades are his only chance to get out of this hell hole.
…
He changes out of his uniform later, deciding to go out to eat. He doesn’t have many clothes so he just throws on a pair of ripped jeans and a sweatshirt that he bought three sizes too big so he wouldn’t have to worry about growing out of it. He goes into the restaurant. It’s fast food, so it’s cheap.
“Well, well, if it isn’t pretty boy.”
Seonghwa turns around. “Wooyoung, I’m not in the mood.”
Wooyoung looks him up and down. “Someone looks nice. You aren’t called pretty boy for nothing.” He reaches down, slides his finger into one of the rips on Seonghwa's thigh.
Seonghwa jerks away. “Don’t touch me.”
“You know, Hongjoong told me you cried in front of him. Must have been humiliating. I can't believe you're older than me. Why have I never seen you cry? What even happened? He wouldn’t tell me. I saw him and he seemed upset, so I asked him what was wrong, and he just said, ‘I made seonghwa cry’, and I was like, ‘who the fuck is Seonghwa’, and then I realized it was you. I think he feels bad. He’s too soft.” He smirks. “I think Hongjoong wants you in bed. That’s why he’s so nice to you.”
“He’s not nice to me,” Seonghwa points out. “And even if he did want to sleep with me, which he doesn’t, I would rather die before I got into bed with him.
“Oh, come on. You’re such a little slut, I know you want him too.”
“Um, no, actually. I just waned to get some fucking food.” He walks out the door, leaning against the wall outside. He feels like crying. For some reason, his mind wanders to Hongjoong. He pushes the thought away. He wishes desperately to run away from everything, but he doesn’t have anywhere to go.