Baekhyun's POV---

It was a habit that I unintentionally picked up-- my fearful slouch as I slink around alone. I can hear the air still as I greet the room full of overeager students with a slam. The door bounced slightly. Crap. I opened it too hard. I felt my legs shaking as all eyes turned towards me. My shoulders droop and my body bends over. I slink forward.

“Useless.”

“I told you to get beef--not chicken, useless dog!’

“Ugly.”

“He’s not even ugly, he’s just a freak of nature.”

“Stupid trash.”

“What are you even talking about? Does he even have a brain?”

“Shut up!”

“You’re voice is polluting my ears. Do you need me to tape your mouth shut, trash?”

Their voices echo in my mind. Are they real, or are they simply my ears playing tricks on me? I can’t differentiate. Every step I take, I can hear everyone snickering, as the room thuds from my weight. I can feel my eyes shifting upwards to see through my stubby eyelashes---I wish they’d stop glancing at me. Why did my bangs have to stick up uncontrollably today?

I can only see red---they probably gossip about me behind my back. It’s okay---my back will protect me from their words. My eyes narrow and my gaze wavers. I slouch further down as I walk and my hands are shoved deep in my pockets.

I finally reach my secluded desk and I reach around to grab my bag from behind me. I accidentally drop it onto the desk. My bag makes a loud noise and I find myself looking at twenty-nine other pairs of eyes again ---Can’t they just look away? I slid into my seat, my ears heating up when I can feel the whispers at the back of my senses surfacing again.

I around in my bag desperately for my headphones---bad day, I forgot to grab them after I left them tied around the door handle to my one room apartment yesterday. Yes, I live alone---my parents got sick of me…I think. I was in their way---of doing what, I have no clue.

Or maybe I do. I’m just in denial---slightly; what more did I expect though? They wanted a perfect heir to succeed them as the next to lead the Byun Enterprises. I couldn’t meet even half the requirements. They simply had another son and left me with money every month, but I didn’t dare use all the money. What if they abandoned me one day?

It’s not like I mattered to them. That’s why they left me alone. That’s why they let me do whatever I liked without a single phone call in half a year. When they do call, it’s their secretary reminding me of what not to do in order to not embarrass my parents any further than the failure I already was.

I look out the open window and drown myself in my own thoughts. “...Waste of space.” I flinch at the words that draw me back to reality. It’s directed at me---I can feel her eyes throwing daggers at me. I don’t even have to look. It’s the norm. What can an antisocial hermit expect from others? My body slides lower in my seat and my head feels heavier.

At least this school was better than my last: no one approaches me. No high-pitched screams from girls up in my face whenever I entered a room, no angry fists slamming me against a hard surface. No boys purposely dragging me out to the courtyard angrily.

My parents transferred me out of my old school when I made the news after I was left on the sidewalk passed out with cuts, bruises, and blood all over me. I think I got a broken a nose and a few cracked ribs. I got yelled at for being bad. My parents chose this school and told me to keep a low profile. I swear I didn’t do anything---I only remember pain from back then. Well, on the bright side, this school doesn’t care much about what I do and there’s music too.

The bell rings, the teacher drones on. I can’t understand half of what she says. Was it something about parables? Oh wait, I’m mixing religion up with math. That might have been something about parabolas and an equestrian? …I mean equation. The next class is no better. I don’t even remember what my grades are at right now---probably the worst in the class. At least I did my homework---excuse me, I meant most of it.

Music was next--well for the rest of the day, according to my version of the music integration program. It’s my saving grace. I slowly shuffle out of physics with my back bent over my phone without my earbuds either--I wonder why I took physics when I was a year younger than the rest of the class. I nearly walk into the doorway but I managed to avoid it. Instead, I ended up shoving a well-built jock boy into another person. I was about to apologize, but he shouted at me. “RICH JERK! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?”

My eyes go blank---first aggressive situation at this school and I hear a girl yelling--at me or for me, I don’t have a clue. She was probably yelling at me. Somewhere in the back of my head, I panic. My back bends foreword more in a makeshift bow. My brain goes blank---I really am useless, and I flee with my usual slink, except this time, my face was burning red. Did I forget to sound out my apology? I wonder why my manners were so bad. I find the ground very interesting---and I can hear all the whispers, feel all the glares.

Did everyone see that? My thoughts race around and I can feel tears well up. Instead of letting them fall, I bite my tongue and look down at my phone again. Head down, slightly hunched, I speed towards my music room. The music integration program at this school is good---you get one period free to do whatever with the music and arts in a designated room, as long as you hand in assignments and read the lessons yourself.

I hear there’s another version of the music program, but this was what the headmaster gave to me. I think my parents forced him to make this version though. They didn’t want me embarrassing them again, so they made sure I would have the least time spent with others. I report directly to the headmaster. He is always angry, but at least he gave me a decent mark for the last few evaluations. I wonder if I deserve it though---did my parents bribe him in order to not let me fail? My compositions can definitely be improved in too many places.

I fiddle with the switches when I finally reach my room. I see my studio-like equipment in the corner---I’m relieved and I smile. I look around warily. Thank god, no one was around to notice my smile. My smiles reveal my crooked teeth and my eyes disappear--I wouldn’t to give anyone another reason to make fun of me. I quickly control my face.

My shoes make a squeak on the floor as I enter my music room at the school. It’s the one place where I can actually straighten up my back and no one laughs. No voices, no screams, no angry frowns and fists are directed at me---everything is cleared. I scan the room for my equipment--there it is in the corner. No one touched it and I breathe a sigh of relief.

My glance is purposely directed downwards--who was the genius that installed mirrors everywhere? I absolutely did not want to see my hideous face, nor my bloated body---that’s for the ones who danced, sang, just existed as a being that was much better than mine.

I feel the temptation to draw my shoulders towards myself, to wrap my arms around my knees and to make my back into a protective shell---

My speakers from the room have finally synced with my phone that had my newest composition on my keyboard at my apartment. Thank the Lord! I feel a twitch in my back. It’s straight for once and I lose my slink. I stride towards the device and I press play.

I can lose myself in the music and forget who I am, what I look like, where I exist. I can forget my habit of curling into myself and shed my slouch that both protects me, making me able to withstand all those taunts, insults, or whispers behind my back. I grab the flattened sandwich out of my bag and I chew slowly on the stale bread. There was no taste, but I eat to not go hungry, so it doesn’t matter.

I fix up my composition on the Yamaha keyboard to my liking and I save it again on my phone. It still sounds off, but I just can’t place what’s wrong. My work is never satisfying---so many places that can be done better by the headmaster and just anybody. I just can’t.

Should I write the lyrics as well? I roll my shoulders--they feel sore. I glance at the clock---the bell was going to ring in ten minutes. Do I even have the ability--I might just screw everything up. Well, I’ll try I guess---I could stay till later anyways---like usual. I don’t have anywhere else to go except back to my apartment, except there, the music equipment isn’t full.

I spend most of my time here in the mirrored music room, if I don’t get the call from the bakery to get my there to work. I was rather hoping I could smell the familiar waft of freshly baked bread, but alas, no such hope today. I wasn’t good at anything in particular, so they always left me as last reserve employee. I’m just glad they don’t fire me.

Back to writing lyrics, what do I write? My thoughts wander; maybe I am just as mentally stunted as they all say I am. My hands twirl my pen absently. I can feel something tugging in my mind, and I let it blossom in my mind. My pen scratches on the blank paper on the small empty portion of my desk beside the equipment playing the songs loudly.

The last words are finished as I sing the lyrics to test it out with the music. It seems to fit---I wonder if it does. Should I try? What if someone overhears my singing and then they’ll yell at me for bursting their eardrums? Never mind it…another part of me tells me to go for it. I stand up and I close my eyes to the music. It was getting late, but its not like the school locks its gates until eleven at night.

I reach for the mic boldly. Just this once, I’ll try singing to myself. No one’s here to listen so no one will complain if I pollute the air with my crackly voice. Not many stay behind after school, so what are the chances? The song begins; I open my mouth to sing.

“Baby don’t cry tonight eodumi geochigo namyeon

Baby don’t cry tonight eobseotdeon iri doel geoya

Mulgeopumi doeneun geoseun nega aniya kkeutnae mollaya haetdeon

So baby don’t cry cry nae sarangi neol jikil teni.

Baby don’t cry tonight after the darkness passes

Baby don’t cry tonight it’ll become as if it never happened

You’re not the one to disappear into foam, something you never should’ve known

So Baby don’t cry cry my love will protect you.”

The lyrics of the chorus leaving me echo in the room with a sense of hollowness. My voice comes back to me as well and I can’t help but grimace. Horrible ---I shouldn’t have sung, just like they told me not to. Well, my head actually is held up for once.

I hear a drawn out breath. My head whips towards the door that had been tipped ajar with my eyes wide with shock for once. My slink is back. I stutter before I am fully capable of forming coherent words. My lips feel oddly dry all of a sudden, “I-I-I’m so sorry! P-please, don’t tell anyone I sang!”

I can feel fear creeping down my spine. I desperately ask one last time as I shut down everything and grab my phone in a scramble to leave. I leave the lyrics beside the equipment on the desk, promising to finish the next day without singing or anyone there.

The weight of the voices I could already hear jeering at me settles on my head and neck. I can’t support it and I nearly stumble before I stand in front of the newcomer. His sun-kissed skin is perfect along with his toned muscles. I try to hide my own arms---why did I wear a sleeveless today? But he was frozen with shocked eyes. My voice must have been horrible for him to freeze like that.

Oh no, he’s one of the dancers in our school that’s famous even outside of it. I don’t remember his name-- no surprise. I’m screwed---low profile no more, if he tells anyone. I yank on his shirt in an attempt to bring his mind back. He turns towards me with his deep brown eyes---I look down. How could I even compare to this charisma, this greatness? I gulp, “P-please, I won’t do it again. I promise. I-I’m s-s-sorry.” My hands tighten, as my voice falters and catches in my throat, “Don’t tell---please.”

He stands still and I feel a part of me drown in further despair. I forget to bow again and I leave before he says anything. Maybe I shouldn’t go to school tomorrow after all---no more eyes glaring at me, no more voices stabbing at me.

I finally reach the parking lot of the school with my bag barely slung on my back. I’m panting hard and I look down at my gangly arms, and my pale skin. It must have looked unhealthy in contrast to his. The wind blows strong and the sky is dark, with both clouds and evening settling. It was late---time flew---it was seven at night already.

I was about to exit through the gates, when the skies give up on me and it starts crying. I close my eyes--I deserved the icy wash over me. I shouldn’t have sung at all. Now someone knew---knew the extents of just how bad I was. It gave him something more to laugh about, if everything else about me wasn’t enough.

I’m pretty sure everyone in the school laughs at me once---they stare blatantly. I can hear their voices, feel the heat of their gaze settle on me angrily.  For once, I look up at the skies with my back straight. One time---and I let the rain pour over me. Oh, I forgot my sweater at home, and I’m left with the wetness soaking me to bone.

My body and clothes are all wet and the stick to the frame of my body, highlighting every single chubby fold and the fat lines. I find my back bending over the hide it, my arms crossed to be shield around my chest. I walk home slouched again. Passing by the ulzzangs in their normal corner two blocks from my house didn’t help at all---I swear they jeered, and if not, they pointed.

I shiver as I finally reach the foot of my apartment complex. My sneeze shocked the dog and it barked at me. Do dogs find me useless too? I wonder, and I slouch by with my hands in my pockets again, trying to find warmth.

I finally get to my room without any incident---I slip out of my clothes and change into my sweats and PJs while sitting in front of the portable heater with a bowl of cup noodles. Dinnertime was the norm. Eating in silence all alone at the table; at least my parents weren’t here to scold the way I chew or something else.

I hope I don’t get a cold. After a hot shower in the shared bathroom with the people of my floor, I edge back into my room, throwing myself on the makeshift bed. I finally curl up under the blankets.

The last thought that crosses my mind was a fleeting memory of that boy who came in today just for a second. Maybe it was more. That chocolate skinned boy---he was simply amazing. No wonder he was so admired in our school. My tomorrow rests with you, stranger boy.