Baekhyun's POV

How many times does one wake up to the same ceiling in a lifetime screaming from nightmares? My neighbours must hate my childishness. Voices from the imaginary beings of my mind overlap with those that follow me again and again; even if I cover my ears, I can still hear them. It hurts my mind and I squeeze my eyes shut. Rejecting reality---

Stupid bullsh**, what non-sense are you spouting now? Shut up, brat!

An odd sense of disorientation makes me panic for a second.  Were those angry steps storming towards my door to drag me painfully out of bed for a scolding yet again? My body flinches and cowers at the engraved memories coursing through me about home. No, that was no home to me---they had all made that clear enough; they had the younger son.

You’re not needed. Who do you think you are, shi*head?

My stubby legs shake from the simple movement of getting up---unfit. My face is bloated, just like every morning. I shudder. I can feel the disgusted stares I get at school in my mind already—no wonder. A tanned face invades my thoughts again, one that had his mouth open in shock after last night---that boy.

The sun shines too brightly into my grey room and I can feel my pasty skin tingling from the warm sensation. The sun does not sympathize with me. It shines, as if mocking me about how my secret was out, the secret that dancer boy knew.

Will he tell everyone? My breath catches and I feel fear slicing through every nerve. Was my last remaining love in the world going to be torn from me, just like every other dream I once had? My music…

The light that invades my room makes the light grey particles on the barest furniture pieces in my room visible. My fingers reach out to skim over the faint layer of dust lying on top of my table.

How fitting--

Trash belongs in the dirt---leave him.

I freeze. I can feel my hands subconsciously flying upwards to fumble over old injuries, ribs once cracked, back still scarred. The next second, I’m groping blindly, panicking at not being able to find it.

My fingers sweep all over the place, afraid. CRASH! My only glass cup lies shattered in a pile of broken pieces beside me on my floor. Uncaring, I frantically continue my search for my headphones and music player.

My fingers fumble shakily as I finally pull it out, and hurriedly wrap it around my head. Finally, the music washes over me like fresh rain. It’s my drug that lets me free---I’m the mess of an addict that can’t live without it. If only I could be blown away by the wind---

My neighbour’s voices grow louder as the apartment awakes; they are arguing in the early morning and I cringe. The insults are all too familiar; once directed at me, they now take part in drowning me.

The room suffocates me and the air is heavy; I need to escape. Hurriedly, I leave the glass shards on the floor after I change into my wrinkled uniform. I can’t afford to wash it too much if I have to save up the living allowances I receive. I stick a few crumpled bills that I can afford to spend into my old wallet, his wallet; my dad—no, my father’s wallet.

Through the haze, I make my way across my room, grabbing my duffel bag along the way. It’s been a while since I have woken up with this feeling of panic. I can feel the old walls close in on me, the vicious eyes, and the familiar fists. Cold air blasts me in the face, and stumbling around the corner towards the school, I feel nervous upon thinking of meeting the dark-skinned dancer again, if ever.

Finally, numb from the cold, I can see the school gates looming tall, right in front of me. Voices seep out of the school in waves, and I can only stare. How I wish to be a part of that---but who would even like my voice? They usually leave me alone, at least those that don’t turn to blatantly stare or whisper behind me.

A girl slams into me with her books, and I nearly let out a whimper. My body remembers the hard shoves I used to get and I try to apologize, to bow my back ninety degrees and to say something. However, something catches in my throat; a blockade. She disappears like the wind before I can say anything. I slink onwards.

Leaning against the wall, I try to make a sound, but only a whisper comes out. Sneezing painfully and gripping my head afterwards, I can now feel the nauseating light-headedness throwing my vision down the drain and the painful beginning of a sore throat. The rain from yesterday must have been cold, or maybe I was just weak.

Serves me right for singing; now that my voice is taken away with an incapable throat, maybe dancer boy won’t tell anyone. I hope to death he didn’t, but what would he even get out of it? Shrinking silently deeper into my uniform sweater with my hands snuggled as deep as it could into my pockets, I hide my face behind the collar.

Maybe if he doesn’t see me, he’ll leave my secret unbeknownst to all. My bag drapes heavily on my left side, and the weight of it makes my slouching back shift sideways unbalanced. I can feel the eyes of the students sweeping up and down, here and there on me. Is there something wrong with my tie? Should I walk nearer the walls in the shadows?

I nearly panic when one of my headphones falls out of my ear in the jam-packed hallways. They seem to always be jam-packed with a crowd a few inches away from me. “SHUT UP!” My eyes fly open wide beneath my flattened bangs, not to mention, extremely dry too. Did the tanned boy tell someone---did he tell everyone?

Stupid—he thinks he can sing.

I can hear the mocking voices again. My legs feel weak when fear courses through me. I wish I could keep it out, I wish I could make the voices go away. Why can I not close my eyes upon the truth of my oddities in the society and just become part of the melting pot?

Why was I not normal? A hand brushes my elbow, and I flinch---just a brief twist of my face along with my shoulders being brought closer around myself. A trembling, pale hand tugs my headphones back into my ears. It’s good that I brought my additional uniform sweater.

Freak!

I feel sick---why do they keep coming back? I narrowly avoid running into a pillar, so I reluctantly force myself to look up in front of me. How embarrassing---From beneath the fringe of my dry, fringed bangs, I finally realize my feet are bringing me straight towards my music room.

I stumble after realizing that I’ve never ventured to school in the morning before, nor have I ever been here this early. Thank someone out there; my music is with me today---

I feel a strong urge to skip first period, to avoid the class that I faintly recall the tanned boy in. He is bright, everything opposite of what I’ve been since the beginning. He has a friend too---no one ever asks me to be there’s. I catch my bloated face in the window nearby. My hands clench tightly into a fist in my pockets. I turn away, feeling myself sink even lower in my posture.

So ugly---

A girl blocks my way to my room. This was the first time that anyone approached me thus. I gulp—I was so close to reaching my music room. I see another girl beside her; and their friends seem to slowly surround me. They have their phones out and my feet become glued to the ground. I’m trapped---

They look intimidating and I fall back slightly. My eyes are downcast as I fidget with my music player; I’m afraid to look at them. My posture slinks lower and lower, “Do you m-min---?” I can only hear half-formulated questions from the girl in front of me, and my eyes cautiously look upwards. I’m forced to stuff the music player in my pocket before the girl came too close while my gaze finally meets hers.

The girl in front of me fades off without another word when our gazes meet. I shrink back from the circle around me. I’m sure everyone is laughing; I can hear their voices grating against my ears. My heart beats heavily in my ears. I can feel my ears flame up in embarrassment. I want to dig a hole to hide my body, but there’s no hope for that.

I try to speak, “W-what—t…?” My voice doesn’t come out and my eyebrows furrow in frustration at myself; instead, I can only feel the pain of my throat aching, and a wave of dizziness hits me. My legs feel like jelly; so this was to be the first confrontation at this school. Disappointment and fear courses through my veins, was I going to have to transfer again---?

I don’t want to face my parents again yet; unless this time, their secretary would handle it all. I flinch and I attempt to hide myself from the frightening memories of them, because they made it quite clear that they didn’t care. They didn’t want to deal with my “antics”, they called it; they had better things to do.

Stop wasting my time, you son of a---.

Clench. Unclench. My eyes close and open; it’s a vain attempt to get rid of the ever taunting voices. My back slides down and curved again. The ground is safer to look at than the people encircling me. It’s too sudden, but even more people surround me and my eyes roam wildly, looking for an opening. There is none. I realize that I shouldn’t have halted at all.

“Please..,” I try to speak again despite the gnawing of my throat. Why don’t they hear me? This never happened before, so why now? Please--- My body sways unsteadily and I can’t see the ground straight anymore. Swirls of colour combine with the shoes of the people around me. My fingers grip the music player in my pocket tightly, but alas, my headphones had been pulled out of my ears unknowingly.

A girl’s hand is clutching at my arm, and I think she can feel my silent shaking. Blinking to clear up the dizzy wave of contorted images in front of my eyes, I look up again beneath the hood of my hair. Something binds me to the ground, chaining me still.

Loud voices and many footsteps grow near and their faces are slowly unveiled. My eyes widen by a fraction; I can spot a familiar face rounding the end of the corner of the hallway I was trapped in. Dancer boy.

Should I reach out or call him over? He’s laughing with his long-legged friend from math class and for a second, his eyes meet mine. The tanned boy’s laugh freezes for a short second before the eyes crinkles up again and he continues laughing along again.

My hand pauses and clenches. Never mind, his laugh blended in right alongside others. I should just dig a hole and hide myself from this world, but instead I can only make myself smaller in the folds of my sweater. I can hear snippets of words through a fearful haze, “---waste of space—.” “---animal,”… their words resound within me, over and over again.

Tsk—circus animal--- your name sounds like bacon—how’d you like being called pig?

The voice in my head reminds me of what I amounted to in this world at a crucial time. A circus animal---an animal seems to suit what I was—something all these people could stare, point, capture and laugh at.

My eyes glazes over blurrily with tears; dancer boy has probably told them all. Why else would they come towards me then? I curl inwards, trying to appease the heartbroken betrayal of a stranger. How pathetic---I cringe again.

A cold hand petrifies me in my place. A girl has her hand under my shirt, and I flinch backwards, nearly bowling over another who stood behind me. Why were they so near?

Her nails scratch at me before my shirt is pulled back to cover my stomach. Was this a new way of telling me to go away? Securing my arms tightly by my side, I try to escape their clutches. I twist gently but to no avail. My back can no longer protect me from their cruelty. I feel like the walls I set up were only pillars of sand that collapsed at a breath. Serves me right---again and again, it’s still my fault.

My breath comes out in short pants when I realize their hands are all over me. A hand edging near my behind makes me freeze. Nausea takes over my mind and the dizziness from my pounding head is overwhelming. The door that led to my personal haven to music stood closed, mocking me at yet another failure of mine. I cannot even reach the room without an incident.

The crowd around me stands still, amassing even more people without stop. I wish someone’s hand would save me, but it’s a spiralling downfall of hands, voices, pinching, scratching, and I begin to slip. Why do they only watch?

It’s suffocating; the countless eyes that seem to point lasers at me, the restless hands that seem all too eager to get a piece of me, and the boisterous voices that pound me down as it reverberates in my mind. My lungs cannot get enough air, the world begins to waver. It’s too hot and the bag being half ripped from my shoulder feels like a ton of lead.

I cannot control the motion of my body feeling light, too light---all of a sudden. My eyes flicker, I try to clear my vision. I can’t see and I can’t breathe. I can only feel and hear their hands, their voices. My existence alone must cause them misery, or else… why would they--? I cringe, my face twisting in an unpleasant fashion and my head pounds one strong beat.

Slowly, what is set in front of my eyes swirls and dissolves. Voices lash out at me. The final image I can see clearly is the shadow of shock flitting across the tanned dancer’s face with his hands parting the crowd. If only I could do that too---

The last sensations that I feel are from the nerve endings of my body curling up on the ground and then two strong arms picking my limp form up from the ground, imprinting their warmth on me. I can feel my own throat struggling to make out two words but it closes before I can even utter, “Don’t bother…,” and nothing comes out. But, what makes me think that he intended to help me?

Black out.

But, there’s something that leaves me connected to the world by a strand. A faint thrumming from my headphones that has been picked up and placed somewhere I can’t see nor feel anymore. I can hear though---hear the faint beat of the fading music before that too leaves my senses.

♪To be hurt

 To feel lost

 To be left out in the dark

 To be kicked when you're down

 To feel like you've been pushed around

 To be on the edge of breaking down

 And no one's there to save you

 No, you don't know what it's like

 Welcome to my life…♪

--- (Welcome to My Life, Simple Plan)

Once disoriented upon the first blurry tendril of awakening, conscious thoughts slams into me with force, but still, I lose myself in this fairy tale room; I feel warm for once, like I could forget everything. The heat thaws the cold muscles in my back, gently straightening it out against the texture of the cot beneath me. It wasn't the first time that I woke up in the nurses's room, but this time felt different--like there was a presence that could make me calm even in the midst of catastrophe.

When was the last time I felt this feeling of calm without the aid of music?

Beneath these blankets, I feel safe from the voices that haunt me day by day; no one here to stare at me, to glare at me, or yell at me. My eyes remain closed and my back is flat against the bed. I’m not ready to wake up and return---my head pounds in the distance.

Light, practiced footsteps make their way nimbly towards me. I shrink deeper beneath the covers, my skin crawling with ants. Was it someone who was going to throw me into a jumbled mess? Shuddering slightly, my eyes feel slightly wet with dread seeping into tears. I can feel their breath peacefully drawing in and exhaling out from beside me.

Fingers graze my forehead, and unable to contain myself with nervousness, a hiss of air escapes my tight lips too quickly. Tension grabs my body and my eyes fly open. I yelp silently at the sight in front of me, had it not been for the painful obstacle in my throat. A gasp registers in my brain.

Familiar, rich brown orbs meet my muddled brain when the tanned skin of the hand across my eyes pulled away abruptly. Our eyes meet in the resounding silence after the gasp that left his lips when he retreated in shock. Dancer boy…again?

Déjà vu.

Fear and adrenaline course through me in an instant, ripping away the last minutes of peace, as I am reminded of the secret he knew, the secret that seemed to be spoken of to all. My panic seems to reach him, and his brows furrow slightly. I cringe under his clear gaze and my body curls up smaller beneath the figure of the boy beside me; the boy who had driven a knife into my one remaining dream and happiness.  My music…

My nose tickles and my cough comes out strangled, oh no---“A-ah—achooo!” I flame in embarrassment, face heating up, and I edge backwards to sit up cautiously without looking up again to meet his gaze. I can imagine the look of disgust that would be molded on his face, appalled by the bacteria-filled air that I contaminated with my sneeze.

I swallow hard, ignoring the sting of my throat and blinking away the wetness in my eyes that welled from my stupidity that led to the crisis of the possibility of losing my music. He told someone---told everyone; they will never let it go. Now, they knew---

With every thought, the burden on my mind makes my shoulder droop another fraction. Still entangled in the blankets, a weight drops down beside me with a poof. I fidget, feeling the need to escape. Flinching when chilly, cool fingers calmly tuck themselves underneath my chin, a gentle pull turns my downturned face up.

I’m greeted with a confident smile, and shocked, my eyes widen.

Was it meant for me?

Could I be so bold to think that it was for me? I'm the only one in the room, so was there no mistake? The single thing I realize I was craving for since so long---a smile for me, even if it were from a stranger. I shake my head slightly, but still the smile doesn't fade. He slowly lets go of my jaw and never losing the creased grin, his lips move and reshape, and his vocal chords vibrate.

A liquid voice finally fills the muted room and my ears, pleasantly for once. “You’re awake! Are you alright now?” His hand deftly feels the expanse of my forehead. Swallowing the sudden peaking panic, I settle down restlessly as he's checking for any remaining fevering symptoms.

Unsurely, I nod an ungraceful drop and jerk of my head in response to his question, my gaze eventually dropping back towards my entwined, bony fingers, fidgeting nervously. He pauses for a minute before confidently enunciating his name--

 “I’m Kim Jongin---it's nice to meet you.” His eyes crinkle into a smile as well. I bite my lips---

So dancer boy's name is Kim. Jongin...I can't help it before it simply  rolls of my tongue like velvet.

"Kim. Jongin."

a/n: Summer school exams tomorrow =.= I'm screwed. Btw, about the story---you might have noticed that chapters comes in pairs :)