Lyrics: All I am is a man / I want the world in my hands

Interpretation: Jesse Rutherford acknowledges that he is one man out of seven billion other human beings. However, like many humans, he has a deep desire for power.

Mino walks towards the building. As is the case with most high schools, there are crowds of kids hanging around outside. They’re divided into their cliques, the jocks and the cheerleaders, the band kids carrying instruments, the brains in their glasses with their textbooks, the stoners off to one side, oblivious to everyone else. One kid, gangly with thick glasses and obviously younger than he is, stands alone. He’s wearing a black NASA T-shirt and jeans, and can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. He has a handheld telescope and is scanning the sky, which is mostly obscured by clouds.

He notices a girl taking pictures, moving easily from one group to the next. She’s shockingly beautiful with straight black hair past her shoulders, ivory skin, high cheekbones, and inviting dark eyes. Everyone seems to know her and says hello to her, and no one objects to her taking their picture.

She sees him, smiles and waves. Mino briefly wonders why and turns to see if someone is behind him. There are, two kids discussing math homework, but no one else. He turns back around. The girl walks towards him, smiling softly. He’s never seen a girl so good-looking, much less spoken to one, and he’s definitely never had one wave and smile as if they were friends. As she nears him, she lifts the camera and starts snapping pictures. He raises his hands to block his face.

She lowers the camera and smiles.

“Don’t be shy.” She says, voice soft.

“I’m not. Just trying to protect your lens. My face might break it.”

She laughs. A restrained yet delightful sound. “With that scowl it might. Try smiling.”

Mino smiles, slightly. The way her long, heavy lashes makes an unnamed feeling rattle at his heart. He can feel his neck burning, his hands getting warm.

“That’s not a real smile,” she says, teasingly now. “A smile involves showing your teeth.”

He smiles broadly and she takes pictures. Briefly, her attentions diverts to a flock of birds flying overhead, but just as quickly she returns to taking more pictures of Mino. Finally, she moves the camera from her face.

 “You’re Song Mino, right?”

She holds out her hand.

“Yeah.” Mino says. “How’d you know?”

“I’m Bae Joohyun. My mother is your real-estate agent. She told me you’d probably be starting school today, and I should look out for you. You’re the only new kid to show up today.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I met your mum. She was nice.”

“Are you gonna shake my hand?”

She’s still holding her hand out. Mino smiles and takes it, and it is literally one of the best feelings he’s ever had.

“Wow,” she says.

“What?”

“Your hand feels hot. Really hot, like you have a fever or something.”

“I don’t think so.”

She lets go. “Maybe,” she says it more to herself, and unconvincingly so.

“Yeah, maybe.”

A bell rings in the distance and Joohyun tells him that it’s the warning bell. They have five minutes to get to class. They say good-bye and he watches her walk away, noting the way her raven hair swished rather uniformly when she walked. His fingers itch to hold a pencil, to capture the motion as best as a sketch could. Mino sighs; he hasn’t drawn anything in months. He promised his parents he’s forgo his artistic interest for complete dedication to his academics.

 A moment later, something hits the back of his elbow. Mino turns and a group of football players, all wearing letterman jackets, sweep by me. One of them is glaring at him and he realizes that he hit him with his backpack as he walked past. Mino doubts it was an accident and starts to follow them. He knows he won’t do anything, even if he could. As he does, the kid in the NASA shirt walks next to him.

“I know you’re new, so I’ll fill you in,” he says.