Luhan

                It was one of those days—those strange, off days when the cold drops of rain came amidst a blanket of warm humidity.  I was in the backseat of the car staring idly at the passing landscape, my chauffeur taking me to school.  I let my eyelids fall and pressed my burning cheek against the cool glass of the window, letting out a content sigh.  My eyes snapped open as I felt the car swerve.

                Then came the glass.

                I jolt awake, gasping for breath, clutching at my dry throat.  Breathe, I tell myself, sitting up.  In, out.  In, out.  Reaching over to my nightstand, I grab the water bottle that I always keep by my side, unscrew the cap, and gulp down the fluid.  It makes me choke and cough, but the dryness is gone for now.  I hear a small groan and look to my left to see my roommate Kris stir slightly, but he flips his lanky body over and continues to sleep.  I lie back down slowly, but I can’t bring myself into unconsciousness, for the nightmare will return just as vividly.  It only comes around when the bullies push and shove, kick and punch, snarl and roar.

                I hate rich kids.  I hate myself.  It’s all the same.

                I was shipped off from China to South Korea to attend university when word got out that I had lost my voice permanently.  After all, how could my parents keep up their perfect, sparkling clean image with a mute son?  To be honest, my voice isn’t completely gone, but all that’s left is the quiet sound of glass and gravel.  It was enough to make my mother grimace in a way I never want to see anyone look at me again, but it doesn’t matter.  I can’t say anything understandable anyway.

                Not that anyone will listen.

                Oh Sehun.  How does one describe such a magnificent man?  His dark brown locks fall across his forehead at just the right angle, a slight bounce to them when he strolls by.  I’ve got a year on him, but he seems so much older, his face always expressionless, his eyes hooded lazily, his mouth a flat line.  But he’s so handsome, so perfect.  I’ve been watching him ever since he helped me against the bullies that day a few months back.  Watching.  Falling in love with.  What’s the difference?

                He makes his way down the corridor, staring straight ahead, his face indifferent.  He doesn’t even notice me, probably doesn’t even remember me, as he passes.  It isn’t until he looks back at me all of a sudden that I realize I dropped my textbook, quite loudly, in the process of ogling at him.  No one else bothers to notice, and I feel as if it’s just the two of us here, staring at each other.  He raises a brow and backtracks, picking the book off the ground and handing it to me.  I look at it for a second, observing his beautiful hands, before taking the book hastily.  My fingers brush against the warmth of his, and I’m so glad I can’t speak because I feel as if I might just scream at the contact.  I suppose he can see the look on my face, the look that sums up this bursting happiness within me, because he tilts his head to the side a little and gives what looks like half a grimace and half a smile as he lets go of the book and walks away.

                I choke on air and grip the edges of my book—which Oh Sehun just touched—and my fingers—which Oh Sehun also just touched—begin to shake.  In, out.  In, out.  Is this what unrequited love feels like?  My breath is ragged, slow.  He probably won’t ever look at me again, so I file away the memory of those two seconds of eye contact into every part of my brain.

                I should drop heavy textbooks more often.

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I adjusted their ages so that they could both be in college haha.  Comments are welcome! :)