Chapter Text
I felt anxiety rising up inside me as I entered my language arts class. I didn’t have any friends to sit with, so I sat on the only singular seat. All the rest were partners, but in the back corner near the door was one desk.
The class was loud, filled with kids who knew each other from years of being in the same classes. They were the honors students. I was an honors student as well, but I was quiet. I didn’t talk to people, so they forgot I existed. Never had someone approached me and thought it would be cool to talk to me, but I was chill with that. I didn’t want to talk to anyone either.
The teacher was absent. In fact, he had retired. We currently had no language arts teacher. Substitutes came in and out, handing us worksheets and papers to write as the other language arts teacher graded all of our things.
The anxiety wasn’t subsiding, so I started scratching the back of my hand. I already had a few scars from scratching, but it didn’t stop me from still doing it. I quite liked the scars. They were pretty in my eyes, a form of art not many people understood. It was the art I couldn’t transfer to paper, but beautiful all the same.
I got through the first layer of skin and whimpered. I stopped for a second and looked at my hand. It was glistening and angry pink, but that only encouraged me to continue. I dug my nails deep and dragged them across the area that was already damaged. Blood sprang out, and I sighed in relief that it was finally there.
I felt the pain suddenly, and it caused me to gasp. I shook out my hand and frowned, hating this part of self-harm. I wished it was all relief. I wished I never had to feel the pain that followed. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
The student in front of me turned and looked at me in confusion at my gasp. “You good?” he asked. He glanced down at my hand, and I hid it quickly before he could see. Even though I thought it was beautiful, it didn’t mean others did.
I nodded, shocked that someone was actually talking to me.
“I’ve noticed you sit here all the time,” the boy said. His partner glanced at me, then back at the boy.
“Dude, you don’t wanna talk to him,” his partner said. “He’s into witchcraft and shit. He’s freaky.”
I pursed my lips but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t into witchcraft. I was just different.
“Aw, c’mon,” the boy said, rolling his eyes. “What century are we in? Witchcraft is cool!” He winked at me. “I’m Choi Jongho. Nice to meet you…”
I didn’t provide my name.
“I’ll call you Angel,” Choi Jongho said. “Until I learn your name, Angel, this is what I’m calling you. Before you ask, it’s because you look like one.”
I didn’t respond.
Jongho’s partner nudged him. “See? He’s freaky. Leave him alone.”
“Calm down, San, I’m sure he’s just shy.”
San shook his head. “Whatever, man. I’m going to sit with Yunho.” San got up and left.
Jongho didn’t seem to mind. “You are really quiet, though. I’ve never heard anything from you until that gasp. You sure you’re good?”
I nodded. Out of reflex, I brought my hand up to fix my hair, blocking the birthmark on my face that’s already covered in makeup.
Jongho gasped. “You’re bleeding! You should go to the nurse. I’ll walk you.”
I said nothing.
The boy went up to the teacher and told him something. I wasn’t paying attention. I stared at the back of my left hand, where the blood was still slowly coming out. This one was deeper than most others, and it made me happy to know this scar would last. Some of my previous ones were already fading.
“C’mon,” Jongho said, tapping my shoulder. “We’re gonna wash that hand and go to the nurse.”
I simply stood and followed him out of the classroom, taking my stuff with me. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to go home. My anxiety was through the roof at the prospect of being alone with this stranger, but I tried some paced breathing to calm down.
The paced breathing helped a little, but I was still terrified of being with Jongho. He looked calm and polite, but so did my past friends.
Jongho put his hand under the faucet and winced. “Don’t use that one, it’s too hot,” he said. “It might burn the skin.” He went to the other one and nodded. “This one. It’s cool.”
I cautiously put my hand under the faucet. I gasped in pain as the water hit directly on my scratched skin. Jongho quickly moved it so that water was just running over it instead of hitting it. I nodded in thanks, still a little shocked by the pain.
He was standing to the left of me, and I could feel his gaze on my eyes. Or rather, what was beside my left eye. Self-conscious, I covered it with my hair and cleared my throat. The wound kept bleeding, and Jongho kept staring.
I glanced at him, and he looked away. He winced. “Looks painful.”
I had a feeling he wasn’t talking about my hand.
He looked at me slowly and pointed. “Was it? Painful, I mean.”
I shook my head. I had nothing to write with, so I pointed to his arm where dark spots littered below the crook of his elbow. I’d noticed them and thought to myself, “He probably never got bullied for them.”
“Oh!” He looked embarrassed. “It’s a birthmark. Sorry for assuming. Let’s get you a bandaid.”
Walking outside, letting the cold air hit my clean wound, it hurt. I paused and let the wind rush against it, reveling in the pain. I enjoyed it.
Jongho turned and frowned. “C’mon, the wind must hurt. You need a bandaid.”
I sighed and followed him back into the classroom where the teacher already had a bandaid. He handed it to me, and I nodded in thanks. I put it on, not caring that it wasn’t big enough and the stick part was on my wound. If it hurts, then it hurts. I didn’t care.
Jongho nodded in approval and walked back to his desk. I slowly followed. I sat down and opened the ipad, playing the only game on there. I didn’t care enough to check the name, even now. It was a game where you collected fruits and befriended different types of mobs. The goal was to collect seeds to unlock new biomes. It was horribly boring, but it was better than nothing.
I felt Jongho’s gaze on me again and looked up, furrowing my eyebrows. He blushed and looked down.
“Sorry. It’s just- gosh, you’re so gorgeous.”
I blinked. Hideous, I’ve been called. Ugly, an abomination, disgusting. Never gorgeous or anything close, not even from my parents. I tapped him, silently asking him to look at me. He did. I smiled in thanks, albeit a bit shyly. He seemed to understand.
“I’ve seen you in almost all my classes,” he admitted. “The only classes we don’t have together are PE and electives. I have PE first, which I’m assuming is your elective. And my elective is third, which I’m assuming is PE for you.”
I frowned. I didn’t know that. I didn’t know that he was an all honors student. He looked like a jock. He certainly had the build for it. It was surprising, but it was also comforting. Why, I had no idea. I couldn’t allow myself to get close to anyone.
“I’m not an all A+ student like you,” he admitted. “I barely got into the honors classes, but I knew it would look good if I wanted to pursue sports. I’m into football.”
I was surprised yet again. He looked more like a basketball player, maybe missing a little height but that was okay. He looked too muscular for being a football player. All they did was run across fields and kick balls. Not that kind. Get your mind out of the gutter, Yeosang, I thought.
I simply nodded. Of course, I didn’t have anything to say. He didn’t seem to mind and went back to his work. I had already finished mine, so I went back to the game.
All throughout class, I felt Jongho’s eyes glance at me every now and then.
~~~
We were changing seats in chemistry.
It was free for all at first. We could choose where we wanted to sit. I, of course, sat alone at a table for four. No one wanted to be with me. But we were changing seats, and I groaned inwardly at the thought of being near people.
Surprisingly, my table only had two people, including me. Surprise surprise, as fate would have it (not that I believe in fate), Jongho sat next to me. It was his new assigned seat while I just stayed where I was. He grinned widely and greeted me with such enthusiasm it was like he was meeting his favorite celebrity. I assumed it was fake and didn’t respond, not wanting to be hurt.
He frowned, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care. This weekend, I had a plan. I was going to do something I had wanted to do for a long time, and no one was going to get in the way of it. Not even smiling Jongho, who was already growing on me.
“Hey,” he said softly, leaning in slightly.
I leaned away.
“Oh! Sorry.” He backed off. “I was wondering, do you want to hang out after school? It’s okay if you don’t talk, I can talk enough for the two of us.”
Our teacher, Mrs. Saengkeo (pronounced Sank-yew. She’s Russian but married a Thai man and lives in South Korea.) was talking, but no one could understand a word she said. Her accent was so thick, so there was no point in even attempting to pay attention. I just looked at her to-do list on the board and went to the website to complete the poster that was due at the end of the class.
I got up in the midst of her talking and walked to the front, picking a large purple sheet of paper. She smiled at me, seeming very pleased with my actions, and soon everyone followed suit, picking paper for their table and arguing over what color. She seemed distressed then. It was like she was trying to get order back in the classroom, but I couldn’t be sure because I couldn’t understand anything she was saying.
I got to work as soon as I sat down. Jongho offered to help me, but he looked lost. I shook my head and indicated that I could do it myself. I pointed to the board and put a five on my fingers, saying he could do step five without words. He nodded in understanding then frowned.
“Uh, I can’t draw.”
I rolled my eyes and held up six fingers.
“My handwriting is ass, I probably shouldn’t outline yours.”
Seven fingers.
“I don’t even know what she’s talking about, what am I supposed to research?”
Eight fingers.
“If I can’t research, how am I supposed to write the paragraph?”
Nine fingers.
“Still can’t draw.”
Ten fingers.
“I can definitely turn it in!” He seemed proud of that.
I sighed and continued working on the assignment that I would single-handedly get an A+ on, but unfortunately I had to drag along football Jongho to get that grade too. It should be an individual assignment, though I could understand why it was a group assignment. It was a lot of work.
I finished with ten minutes to spare in class, all while Mrs. Saengkeo was talking and pointing at slides. I looked up at the new slides and took notes before continuing the work. Every time I glanced at Jongho, he looked fascinated with my work ethic.
“How can you do all of that and still focus?” he asked at one point.
I shrugged.
In the end, Jongho turned it in and Mrs. Saengkeo took it immediately to grade. She gave it back to us five minutes before the bell with 100% written on it. I smiled with pride and pointed at it, grinning at Jongho. He congratulated me and held his hand up. My smile faded and I stared at him, confused.
“It’s a high-five, dummy,” he said, grabbing my hand and pressing it against his. He let go and shook his head. “How could you not know?”
It was a light-handed comment, but I internalised it. I started bringing myself down for not knowing such a simple thing. Was I that daft? How stupid could I be? And it continued until I had another fresh scratch on my other hand that was bleeding.
“Aish, you,” Jongho said when he glanced at me. “Self-harm is not the way to go. If you need to, crumble a piece of paper. Write out your feelings. Anything but hurting yourself.” He sounded sad, almost like he knew.
He was wearing a short sleeve, and I could see no scars. If he knew, then he must have hurt his thighs. I didn’t care though. Why should I? He’s a stranger. I don’t know him, nor do I want to get to know him.
Before I could enter history class, Jongho took my arm and dragged me to the bathroom yet again to wash my scratch. He tested the waters again and determined that the first one was a better temperature. He gently guided my hand underneath and let the water wash away the blood. I could barely breathe at the fact that he was right next to me. I could feel his breath in my ear, which tickled.
He stepped away and grabbed a paper towel. He gently put it against my wound and took it off, staring at the blood. “Let’s go get you a bandaid,” he said. We were late to class, but Jongho explained to Mr. Shin why, and he let us off the hook. He gave me a too small bandaid, but I didn’t complain. I just put it on and gave him a thumbs-up.
I was Mr. Shin’s favorite student, and I knew it. I always finished assignments early, always asked for extra work, and I came to tutoring sessions even though I didn’t need them to get an even better understanding of the notes. I never spoke, I only wrote down what I needed. He was always happy to help.
He left little comments on my work about how good I was doing, and how I should keep it up. I knew he didn’t do the same for other students because I’ve seen their assignments. Therefore, I concluded that I was his favorite student.
I had no problem with that. I just wondered what would happen if I suddenly disappeared and there was no one for him to tutor anymore. He was my favorite teacher. Also, I loved history. I found it fascinating.
I never noticed before, but Jongho sits a row to my left and a seat behind. Very close. As the lesson went on, he kept looking at me after he was finished taking notes, and he would simply stare. I kept my eyes on my paper for the most part, but every time I looked up at the screen, out of my peripheral vision I could see his gaze on me. I wondered if I had something on my face, or if he was just disgusted by my birthmark and couldn’t get enough of humiliating me by staring at it.
History was the last class of the day for me. When the bell rang, I quickly exited the classroom and headed straight for the gym to leave. Leaving through the gym proved to be an equal amount of time home, but I preferred it because it wasn’t as crowded. My goal was to be gone by the time Jongho left, but that wasn’t the case as he caught up to me and smiled.
“Wanna go for some pizza?” he asked. “And it’s okay if you don’t talk. I like silence.”
I shook my head. I did not want to go get pizza. That would require eating in front of someone I don’t know, which is a big X in my category. I would never.
“Maybe some other time, then,” he said. “Do you have plans? It’s okay if we don’t go eat. We could go to the pit. Or just hang out in the plaza.”
I shook my head again.
“Again, some other time.” He didn’t seem turned off at all. Instead, he grinned. “Hey, why don’t you come over to my house? I have video games.”
I shook my head.
“Your house?”
Again.
“Do you just not want to hang out with me?”
I sighed in relief. Finally, he understood.
“Because that’s not gonna stop me.”
Fuck.
He started singing I Can’t Stop Me by TWICE. I stopped walking while inside the gym, watching the ASB club set up posters for an upcoming rally.
“Are you part of ASB?”
I shook my head.
“Are you here for the AC? It is hot, isn’t it?”
I shook my head.
“Why are you here, then? Your girlfriend here?”
I made a face and shook my head. He seemed pleased with that.
“Boyfriend?”
I spluttered. I shook my head adamantly. I had nothing against homosexuals, but I was not one. I was raised in a way of thinking that I got rid of over the years, but sometimes it crept up on me. Like now. I frowned at my own reaction and scratched the back of my neck, embarrassed.
“It’s okay, not everyone is open to gays.” He shrugged. “But you didn’t seem the type of person to be against them. Still don’t. I’ll pretend you shook your head normally and proceed from there.”
He went silent for a couple moments. I watched the other students get on ladders on the bleachers to staple signs up on the walls. There were basketball numbers all over the gym, representing the team.
“Why are we here?” Jongho asked after a while.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I turned on my heel and walked away.
He followed.