New Story
Today I had a subsitute in art and since it is only a half day, I figured I would skip class and go to the library to
write a story or something. I've been pocrastinating a lot lately and I need to force myself to write.
So I've been sitting in the library for an hour already, and I've only managed to write about about
12-13 paragraphs of complete nonsense.
Though, I would appreciate it if you guys read ( I'll paste it below ) and commented whether I should make it into an actual fic or just give up on it.
I want it to turn into something so let me know what you think.
It might be a bit of right now as I had no idea what I was doing while writing it, but maybe there is potential.
Hemingwayapp is being y right now so it is all raw and unedited, excuse my hundreds of thousands of mistakes.
<3
He sits with a book under one arm and a hand up to his mouth, thumb pressing to the curve of his lips. His eyes skim the first lines of the novel and he bends his right leg with the bottom of his shoe pressing against the chair's leg. His other foot rests flat on the carpet, though the position is uncomfortable and he finds that while squirming around, his foot had fallen asleep.
He turns the page with his right hand, his right arm still pressed down onto the book to make it flat. His tongue swipes the inside of his mouth while his jaw moves in sync. He briefly glances up and notices a middle aged woman clad in a knee-length, velvet pencil skirt and a matching cardigan that hides her curves. He glances back down to his book, uninterested with the sudden appearance. He skims over the first paragraph having forgotten his last spot, his index finger tracing the space between two sentences.
Two lights came into view and soon resolved themselves into torches set in sconces, on either side of an imposing doorway, the entrance to Quamast House. The Grand Duke had been lodged a long way from the main palace, and Sir Bernard had assured Trudy that this was the Blades' doing. Most visitors were bunked in the West Wing, but the Blades never took chances with unidentified spirituality.
He looked up again to see what he had missed before, a tall student around his age sitting a couple feet away with a book tucked under one arm and his long leg tossed over the other. There were thousands of students at the school, all of which he had seen at least once out of the three years he had been there. However, he'd never seen this boy's face.
He wasn't sure what captivated him, or why he felt so captivated, considering the student was average looking and the only thing that stood out about him was his skin tone, which in fact made him jealous due to his own pale complexion. Whatever it was, he figured he'd push it aside and focus back on the matter at hand; He had a book report due next class and he wasn't skipping lunch just to fool around. Who knows what face his teacher might make if she finds out he hadn't spent any time on "Impossible Odds", or that he had barely made it past the first page without getting distracted by people.
He forces his eyes to focus on his book instead, suddenly swarmed by hundreds of letters that begin to blur in and out. He rubs his eyes and squints his eyes, but it isn't solving his problem. He curses under his breath and glances up again just out of spite because now he can't focus and he blames the latter. For what? For sitting there and getting his attention by doing nothing.
But the boy is out of sight and the blue cushioned chair is left empty, a taller student with round thin glasses moves in his sight to grab a book. The library is mostly empty and he can hear velvet cardigan with her whiny voice. She was chatting on about her three year old daughter and how well her dance recital went.
His phone buzzes in his pocket but he searches around the room, through the spaces of books to look for that certain student. Alas, he came to the conclusion that he was gone. He tipped his head down and glanced at the page with a grimace, and then looking up towards the clock on the wall above him.
11:36
With half an hour left, he forces himself to look back down at the page and tells himself that he can finish the first three chapters in that span of time. Unfortunately he wasn't an avid reader and he makes sure to remind his parents of the DNA they gave him when they complain about his English grade.
The words scream at him silently and his eyes begin to sting for the nth time, lips persed and nose scrunched when he goes to re-skim the last paragraph he was on. Minutes had passed but he hadn't defeated the first two paragraphs yet. Someone must have sensed his irritation because velvet cardigan places her semi-wrinkly hand on his shoulder and squeezing once.
"Having any trouble?" Woman in velvet asked.
He looks up at the woman and shakes his head. His ears must be red, averting the woman's gaze when he spots another student glancing over at them.
"I'm working on it," he shot back.
He hadn't meant for it to come out so blunt and the woman tipped her head back with a frown before nodding her head to him and walking away. He would have apologized but the words could not be formed, and even if they were they would have gotten lost in translation and would have come out of his mouth in a mess of incoherence.
He leaned his head forward and ran a hand from the front of his hair to the back. He didn't want to look at the clock because he knew he would be out of time, but the reality of so was too much for him. He closed the book in front of him and looked over his shoulder knowing that if he distracted himself he wouldn't feel too bad about not getting anything done.
And yeah, that's literally all I have done in an hour. I'll either write more or write something different in the next half hour but who knows.
Honestly did you know it was kaisoo before the description? I can't stop writing kaisoo.. I should start writing TaePyo or BaekYeol because I've been getting a lot of feels lately.
OH AND 2HO BC DAMN
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