The night passed too quickly for Kibum’s liking. It felt as though he had slept for just a few short minutes and suddenly it was time to wake up and get ready for school. He blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust to the light and, groaning, got out of bed slowly. He never really had been much of a morning person. Looking in the mirror, he saw the pitiful state his hair was in. He never usually tossed and turned in his sleep, but recently he’s been doing a lot of it, resulting in shocking bed hair. He ran his hands through it a few times to try and flatten it, but it didn’t really make much of a difference.

Sighing, he left his room and ventured into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The tiles were cold under his feet and it made him shiver all over. He turned the shower on, adjusted the temperature, and stripped off his clothes before stepping under the spray of hot water. He winced slightly as the heat aggravated some of his more recent cuts, but soon got used to the stinging sensation.

A few short minutes later, Kibum emerged from the shower – hair dripping wet – and wrapped a towel around his waist. He barely dried himself off before walking back to his bedroom. He stood at his door for a few minutes, staring at his school uniform which was neatly folded on the end of his bed. He figured his mother had brought it upstairs for him while he was in the shower. His uniform brought him a strange sense of comfort and safety as it was one of the few things in his life that hadn’t changed in any major way recently. He shivered slightly as the uncharacteristically cold air chilled the water droplets on his body.

Kibum dried himself off properly and pulled on his school uniform piece by piece before hastily drying and styling his hair and heading downstairs. He walked into the kitchen and immediately felt guilty; his mother had prepared an amazing breakfast for him, but he had no intention of eating it. He rarely ate these days, anyway. Kibum shook his head when his mum offered him a plate.

‘It’ll be okay. I understand that you’re nervous,’ his mother said. Kibum merely mumbled a ‘yeah’ in response, although he didn’t actually feel nervous at all. He wasn’t even thinking about school yet, he was more concerned with what was happening right now – putting one foot in front of the other, so to speak.

As soon as he’d left his house, however, his stomach clenched and churned in an unpleasant way, making him feel nauseous. His nerves only got worse as he approached the school gates just fifteen minutes later.

Kibum had never been popular at high school, nor had he been very social, so it came as no surprise to him that no one talked to him as he made his way to his locker. More so than usual, though, Kibum felt lonely. The locker to the right of his had always made him happy; it showed him that he had at least one friend left in the world (he and Jinki had childishly decorated their lockers when they started high school). Now all it did was serve as a reminder of what – of who – was no longer there.

Shoving his bag in his locker and closing it, he tried to remain composed as the familiar aching in his chest caused him to hyperventilate. Leaning against his locker, Kibum sunk to the floor and hugged his knees to his chest, wanting nothing more than to disappear and escape this place. Everything reminded him of Jinki and the pain was unbearable. He didn’t know if this feeling would ever go away.

‘Kim Kibum,’ sneered a familiar voice. Kibum didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Choi Minho – captain of the basketball team, rich, ridiculously handsome – he was everything a girl could possibly want. Despite his reputation as a bully, Minho was one of the most popular people in the school. Kibum wasn’t usually fazed by Minho, but he didn’t feel like talking today.

‘What are you doing on the floor?’ Kibum kept his head hidden under his arms and didn’t respond. ‘Answer me!’ barked Minho.

Kibum was certain there would be a growing audience by now – there always was – and Minho loved nothing more than pleasing his audience. Kibum wondered how teachers managed to constantly overlook the large crowd of students gathering around Minho and whoever his latest victim was.

Without warning, Kibum’s arm was grabbed roughly and he was dragged to a standing position, nearly wrenching his shoulder out of its socket. He finally raised his head to find that he was eye-to-eye with Minho who was staring him down. Kibum glanced around slightly to see if anyone was going to come to his rescue. All he saw was a group of about thirty excited-looking kids hoping to see someone get beat up. Oh well, he thought, glancing back at Minho. Maybe he’ll kill me. Jinki can’t blame me then.

Kibum realised that Minho still had not released his arm when Minho’s eyes dropped to his wrist. Cocking an eyebrow, he dragged his thumbnail roughly over the many cuts and scars adorning Kibum’s wrist. He then leaned in to whisper something in Kibum’s ear, smirking. ‘Been cutting yourself, have you?’ Kibum knew that it wasn’t a rhetorical question – it never was with Minho, no matter what you were being asked – but he chose not to answer anyway.

‘Aren’t talking today? Hm, let’s try a little something to get you to loosen up.’ Kibum suddenly felt as though he were in one of those cliché teen movies as Minho’s balled fist hit his face with a crack. Kibum would have collapsed to the ground had Minho not kept his death grip on his arm. In a daze, Kibum raised his free hand to his cheek for a second before dropping it back to his side.

Minho released Kibum’s wrist a few seconds later, giving him a sense of false-hope, before hitting him again. Free from Minho’s grasp, he fell to the floor in a heap, but wasn’t there for long. He was again dragged roughly from the ground and pushed up against the lockers. Out of the corner of his eye, Kibum could see someone pushing their way to the front of the cheering crowd.

‘Oi, look at me! Next time I ask you a question, you answer,’ he growled menacingly before delivering a solid punch to Kibum’s gut. Kibum coughed slightly and closed his eyes as Minho drew his hand back to deliver another punch to his stomach.

‘Stop it!’

Minho paused and the corridor was silent. Kibum opened his eyes to see fury flash through Minho’s eyes before letting go of Kibum. Kibum backed himself up against the lockers, as far away from Minho as possible as Minho rounded on the person who had tried to intervene. Kibum recognised him as Lee Taemin, the smartest, most popular junior, period. Even Minho hadn’t been as popular as him.

‘…Taemin-ah?’ Minho sounded confused. Sensing that the fight was over, the crowd dispersed and in a matter of seconds, and it was just Minho, Taemin, and Kibum left standing in the now-deserted corridor. Taemin glanced at Kibum, his expression a mixture of relief, pity, and guilt.

‘What the is your problem, Minho?’ Taemin asked quietly. The volume of his voice didn’t make it any less menacing, but Kibum thought he was insane all the same. Did he want to get beaten up?

‘What’s it to you? He means nothing to you,’ snarled Minho. Taemin simply glared at Minho and the latter (amazingly) just turned and left. Why hadn’t he hit Taemin? Surely they weren’t friends. Kibum didn’t understand.

No longer wishing to hold him up, his legs gave out and Kibum dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach with one hand and raising the other to feel his left cheek, which was stinging like a . Kibum looked everywhere but at Taemin.

‘Hey, you okay?’ Taemin asked softly, placing a comforting hand on Kibum’s shoulder. Usually, Kibum would have shaken his hand off in an instant, but there was something comforting about this boy’s presence. He had just defended him against Minho, after all.

‘You okay?’ Taemin asked again. Kibum peeked through the hair hanging over his eyes and nodded slightly. ‘Class starts soon, want me to take you to the nurse?’ As if on cue, the bell rang and Kibum shook his head.

‘At least let me help you up.’ Kibum didn’t object as the boy wrapped his arm under his shoulder and lifted him to his feet. As soon as Taemin let go, Kibum doubled over and clutched his stomach with two hands, feeling as though someone had pulled all his internal organs out and rearranged them. Suddenly, the pain in his cheek didn’t feel so bad.

Taemin grabbed Kibum’s shoulders and bent down so he was eyelevel with him. ‘You’re not okay,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘You need to see the nurse.’ Kibum shook his head again and, with much pain and difficulty, managed to straighten himself out. He attempted to smile at the younger male, but he couldn’t remember how. Something that once was natural to him and seemed so effortless now seemed foreign to him, as though it was something that took much time and effort to achieve.

‘Are you going to go to class?’ Kibum, again, shook his head. Taemin sighed and said, ‘don’t get yourself into any more trouble,’ before leaving Kibum alone in the corridor.