Chapter One
All the Pain~ Zitao POV ~
Nothing could've stopped me from slamming my fist into that 's jaw. Only the crunching of bone against my fist and the loud crack that sounded from his face pulled me out of my rampage. . I did it again. But it wasn't my fault! He had called me gay because I loved Gucci. What was so wrong with my Gucci? I watched as the kid fell to the ground; his face bleeding. I heard yelling behind me and then a firm smack to the back of my head. The principal finally showed up, which meant that I'd be transferred. Again.
The kid was lifted from the ground by school security and taken to the infirmary while I was escorted to the principal's office. He pushed the door open and there sat my parents. How the hell did they always get here so damn fast? I sat down next to my mom, who didn't even spare me a glance, and looked up at my father. He was glowering, but he wouldn't direct his gaze at me. Looks like I seriously ed up this time.
"This is the seventh time that Zitao has fought in this school. I'm sorry to say this, but we gave him too many chances, and we just won't tolerate anymore of his violence. I'm going to expel your son." I gulped down the terrible urge to start crying, and glanced sideways at my mom. She didn't look happy.
"This is also the eighth school he's been transferred to, and by now, I don't think that any school in China will accept him due to his history of violence." I looked down at my lap and fought violently against the hot tears that threatened to spill.
"What can we do to keep him in school?" My father asked, still not looking at me.
The principal sighed heavily and grabbed a stack of papers that had been on a shelf above his laptop.
"We have several foreign exchange programs that I've been looking at and the closest and cheapest one seems to be an academy in South Korea named Bojeon Private School. It's a very prestigious school. Zitao's academic skills are the highest in the school, even though he is violent, so I think he'd do very well there. What do you think?" My father leaned back in his chair, and with his next words my face blanched and my blood ran cold;
"When do we ship him off?"
The principal handed my dad a copy of the paper and also leaned back in his chair.
"We can send him as early as Sunday and have him in school that following Monday." Well . It was already Friday. Super. Great. Fan-ing-tastic.
"Perfect." My mother finally spoke up. So she wasn't going to try and defend me either? Lovely. I stood up abruptly, shocking my parents and the principal.
With a voice that sounded much calmer than I felt I spoke, "I'll go start packing then." As I walked out of the door, my father called after me to return to my seat, which I completely ignored and threw a middle finger up as I walked away. They wanted to call me violent and a troublemaker? Then that's exactly what I'll be.
~ At home on Sunday morning - unfortunately ~
I packed my bags with such vehemence that my anger was practically tangible in the air. Being scared of me since I was such a 'violent kid', my own mother, who had given birth to me, wouldn't even have anything to do with me because she was 'afraid I'd hurt her'. Are you ting me? Why would I ever lay my hands on my own mom? I had finally packed every single one of my belongings into my five Gucci travel bags and dragged them into the living room.
"I'm ready for you to get rid of me." I said sarcastically to my father who then glared at me.
He smacked me across the face and I was careful not to show any kind of emotion to him. After years of abuse, I learned not to.
"Put your in the car you disgraceful brat." I looked at the ground and began to drag my stuff to the car. I grabbed two bags, my dad grabbed two bags, and my mom grabbed the last one.
"I'll put them in the trunk. I wouldn't want you guys to toss them and break my . Not like you care anyway, though." That earned me a slap on the back of my head. I placed my things lovingly into the trunk, and got into the back seat of my dad's stupid sage colored Kia Rio. Talk about an ugly little car. Eesh.
The ride to the airport was quiet and awkward, my mom didn't even glance at me through the rearview mirror and it seemed as though my dad had an eternal glare placed on his once pleasant features. I rolled my eyes and put my headphones in my ears and listened to music instead of succumbing to the silence. I could see the airport in the distance and pulled the plane ticket from my pocket. Seoul, South Korea. I had to live on my own, get a job, and go to a school that I'll probably get expelled from within four months. I sighed, not masking my annoyance at all. Did my parents really hate me this much?
We arrived at the airport and an employee helped me gather all my bags and get them properly situated while I got ready to board my plane to hell. I turned to look at my mom, who had finally worked up the courage to look at me, and sent her a pleading look. She hastily looked away, and I could feel the disappointment deep in my soul.
"Do you really hate me this much?" I asked quietly, trying not to let the hurt I felt touch my words. She looked back up at me with wide eyes and glanced sideways at my dad, who had still been glaring at me.
She opened to say something, but she shut her trap almost as quickly as she had opened it.
"What a submissive little wife you are, mother. So you pick your lousy husband over the son you gave birth to and once showed so much love for? I'll make this 'good' bye a whole lot easier for you both. you. I hate you both. I hope you crash on your way home." I turned to leave and as I walked away I put two middle fingers up, not caring that almost two-hundred people saw what just happened.
I boarded my plane and sat down, immediately plugging my ears with my ear buds, ignoring the flight attendant completely. It's not like the flight would take very long; only about an hour or so. When the plane finally took off, I could feel my stomach drop as we rose in the air. It made me feel gross and I wanted to vomit my guts out.
One of the attendants must have noticed how my face turned an unattractive shade of green and rushed to get me a bag, a pack of crackers, and a bottle of water. I thanked her for her consideration and silently nibbled on the crackers, which actually did make me feel a bit better. I looked out of the window and looked at how high we were in the air, almost successfully making myself sick all over again. I shut my eyes tight and pulled my legs up and tucked them against my chest. I loathed flying.
The plane lurched forward as we started to descend, having finally reached the destination, and landed safely (which is probably the opposite of which my father wished to happen). I exited the plane on shaky legs and managed to get to the luggage pick-up. I asked an employee who spoke Chinese half decently to help me with my bags and called for a taxi. I struggled with what little Korean I knew and managed to ask the guy to take me to the apartments near Bojeon Private School. The only decent thing my father had done for me was pay the first three months of rent to stay in a one room apartment, which I had to find a job before the three months were up or else I'd be removed.
I got the keys to my little room and unlocked the door which opened with an eerie creak. The interior wasn't too bad. White walls, beige carpet, a small kitchen with marble tiled floors and marble counters, a small bathroom with a stand up shower, and a very tiny room that had an unmade bed inside of it. The living room didn't have a couch, but it did have two wooden chairs and a little wooden table in between them with a very old T.V placed on a wooden stand. At least there was something here that was remotely useful.
I unpacked my bags and made up my bed with the sheets I had brought from home and hung my clothes in the closet that thankfully already had hangers in it. Satisfied, I locked my house back up and walked down the street to a restaurant I had spotted in the taxi. When I pushed the door open a little bell told the workers there that they had a customer. A boy with doe eyes walked out from the kitchen and welcomed me. I nodded at him and followed him to a seat he had directed me to.
"I'm sorry. I don't speak Korean very well." I managed. The boy smiled at me.
"It's alright. You learn quickly when you live here. The name's Luhan. And you are?" He was Chinese too.
"Um, Zitao. I'm Zitao." The boy grinned at me and handed me a menu.
"What would you like to drink, Zitao?" He asked, holding up a pen and notepad.
"Just a water, please." He nodded, not bothering to write it down.
"I'll have the cook make you up something special. I can tell from your appearance that you've got jet lag. You just got here, right?" I nodded at the boy.
"I flew from Qingdao, China. I'll be a foreign exchange student at Bojeon Private School starting tomorrow." The boy clucked his tongue.
"Starting school as soon as you get here? That totally ." I nodded grimly.
"I go there, by the way. I could help you out. Show you around and stuff." My eyes widened in surprise.
"That'd be really great. Thank you so much." I smiled up at him and Luhan's mouth twitched up into a wide smile.
"You're such a panda." He pinched my cheek and left me alone to get my order down, bringing me a glass of water as he passed to go help another customer.
When my food was brought to me, I eyed it cautiously. It smelled alright, but it looked a little funny.
"What is it?" I asked hesitantly. Luhan rolled his eyes and shoved a fork into my hands.
"Just try it. You'll love it." I did as I was instructed and shoved a forkful into my mouth. The taste exploded on my tongue leaving a spicy and totally delicious flavor of tomato and kimchi aftertaste.
"This is so delicious!" I exclaimed, shoving another forkful into my mouth.
Luhan, who I decided looked like a deer, chuckled lightly at me.
"Only the chef and a couple of our friends like this. I'll tell Kyungsoo you like it." I nodded as I continued to shovel the kimchi spaghetti down my throat. When I finished I picked up my table a bit to help out and paid, making sure to tip heavily.
"Zitao, wait!" I heard from behind me. Luhan was coming out of the kitchen, dragging a boy with huge eyes behind him.
"This is Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo this is Zitao. He's the one who absolutely loved every bite of your kimchi spaghetti."
Kyungsoo smiled at me and held his hand out. I took it into mine and shook.
"Nice to meet you." I said clumsily in korean.
"I hear you'll be starting school tomorrow. Lulu and I will help you as much as we can and we can introduce you to some other people who actually speak Chinese so that you'll be more comfortable." I nodded at them, thanking them at least a hundred times and then bid them goodnight.
"See you in the morning, panda!" Luhan shouted, making my cheeks heat up at the nickname. I never really had a nickname before let alone friends.
I got to my apartment, went inside, set my alarm and then gratefully collapsed on my bed (I had luckily already been wearing sweat pants) and passed out.
Long first chapter, I know. We get to meet Kris in the next chapter! I'd be happier if I wasn't making him an utter douche canoe for the first half of this story. I hope you guys like it, I think it's kind of decent. I at least really like where the summary is going. xD
Long first chapter, I know. We get to meet Kris in the next chapter! I'd be happier if I wasn't making him an utter douche canoe for the first half of this story. I hope you guys like it, I think it's kind of decent. I at least really like where the summary is going. xD
Comments