Chapter 1

Byun Baekhyun isn't a special boy. He wouldn't call himself normal either, though. He is the type of man who wants a little thrill in his life, filled with only happiness and excitement. He wants a lover who could share their warmth with him, he wants to join music club, he wants to go to dance class, he wants to text his friends; if he had any, he just wants everything a normal high schooler had. Too bad he isn't just any high schooler dressed in his uniform.

But Baekhyun loved school, even if he couldn't have all those specialties normal students had. He loved it either way; it was his only escape from the portal, from his so called home. At home Baekhyun wished he was as invisible as he was at school, oh if only. He lives in the midst of fighting, arguments, shouts and abuse. Those bruises on his arm, his shoulders, his neck, his chest; his body, they represent the not so special nor normal boy, they represent Byun Baekhyun.

The emotionally and physically wounded man walks the halls with his books stuffed into his chest, holding onto them tightly as he swims in the sea of students. Even if it is crowded, even if it smells like hormonal teenagers, it is not 'home,' and that is enough. Although he doesn't want to, he walks tediously across the hallways. The pain and aching of his leg muscles feel strained, and he can still feel the sting of the whip on his calf. No one regards him in any manner though, he is just another wall flower in their eyes.

He wants to head into his classroom, but a boy is standing in the way, looking into his eyes with a flame of determination. He doesn't have a good feeling about this interaction. “There is our Byun! We were wondering if you were going to show up.” The boy smirks and hits his shoulder as if in a joking manner. “Let me barrow ten bucks, I'll pay you back.”

“If Jaehyun gets some, then you better give me some.” The boy on Jaehyun's side walks closer towards him, and Baekhyun feels something in his chest close in on him. These boys were the only part of school that he despised, to Baekhyun they were male versions of Martha, his step mother.

He doesn't bother to raise his head, so he speaks with his eyes concentrated on his beat up sneakers. “I-I don't have a-any with m-me.” He his lips hastly afterwards, attempting to brace himself for what is coming. That irrigular beat of his heart is all he needs to know that this 'conversation' won't only end here.

Jaehyun laughs in a sarcastic manner, “Oh, you don't have it? Well Byun, do you know what happens to people who don't have money?” Baekhyun wants to turn away and just hide, but they're all on the side of the bully, no one will help him, no one ever does. “They become poor, and start looking like they sleep in a dumpster. Why don't we speed up the process? Hm?” Jaehyun wastes no time before grabbing the collar of his shirt and mercilessly dragging him to the back of the school.

Baekhyun would usually admire the strong winds and tree's around him, but now he only wishes to drift away with the breeze. “You don't have the money, eh?” One of the boys hold Baekhyuns hands behind his back and force him to fall to his knees. Jaehyun walks up to him and grabs his chin so he would be within eye level.

“Watch. See what happens to poor kids.” He spits on Baekhyun's face and a second has not even past before Jaehyun punches him in his stomach. He releases sounds of pain each time he feels a blow on his body. Groan after groan, he struggles to find a breath in between each hit, and he finds himself despising himself for allowing people to do this to him. He is weak, foolish, stupid, and gullible, he deserves it. And he is reminded of this everyday he is bullied.

Four of the pompous boys haul Baekhyun up on their shoulders, and he does not feel anything good approaching him. He feels the wind skim against his face and his limbs, it is as if he is soaring through the heighest of skies. But instead of landing in anything welcoming, he is met with the putrid smell of diapers and junk. He hits something hard and it peirces into his forhead, making him wince painfully.

“Then you land in the dumpster.” Jaehyun throws him another smirk of hatred as he slides his hands against one another, in a manner that shows he has acomplished something great. Baekhyun lays helplessly in the dumpster, his limbs sprawled out in defeat, and only the sounds of feet against concrete can be heard. He would call for help, but he knows no one would want to help the wallflower. The bullied kid, the helpless. He feels something prickle inside him, and he knows it is disgust and it makes him want to cry. All these years of welling up in this hole of torture, he only asks for someone to be there, someone to help him through difficulties, someone like the stress ball used for kids with anger managment. Just someone, anyone.

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