I glumly walked out of the classroom after the other students, in their shadows. 

"Yuta!" Taeyong's voice interrupted, waving his hand over towards me. I jerked my head up, my eyes widening comically and I waved back. 

"I'm glad you found your class!" he smiled.

"I did?"

His eyebrows arched with confusion, and then I remembered what had happened. In a way, I did... 

"Oh, yes!" I confirmed, putting my hands in the air in mock success. His eyes followed my hands, and he gasped.

"Your hands are empty, what happened to the textbooks and your schedules?" 

Slowly realizing what he was asking, a slight frown settled onto his face. The purple haired boy blinked, breaking into a wide grin and laughing while I groaned. 

"That... Hansol has my things in his locker..."

"As in Ji Hansol?! Omo, Yuta, how are you already becoming acquaintances with one of the most popular guys at Sejong Academy? You're going to become my role model at this point!" he bleated, clutching his head as if he had just been told a huge revelation. 

"I wouldn't call him my acquaintance yet, it was just a run in-" 

"We have to get going before the break ends! It's a good thing I memorized your schedule, right?" he butted in, going down the staircase. That was actually a huge relief, my hands were getting clammy when I reviewed the thought of being lost in the school and having to go to the FRONT OFFICE once again. I would probably become so smitten by the beautiful decorations that I would throw my schedule to the wind.

          We went down to the second floor, also why was he walking so fast? I wasn't exactly the most athletically fit and I was chasing him like he was running away from a crime! He needs to slow down or else my legs will fall off. Finally, he stopped and I bumped into his back. Checking my wristwatch, there was still two minutes left to the break.

"Gotta get the blood moving, right?" he joked. 

 I stared at him in utter exasperation.

          Nearly everyone were seated, it was so quiet that I could hear a pin drop. The moment I stepped in, I felt uneasy. There were at least thirty students, thirty pairs of eyes looking at me like they hated me and that was just not a good sign. What do I do? Act normal and go to my seat? I put my hand above my eyes as shade, pretending to ignore the stares but I don't really have that kind of ability, and my other hand tapped nervously on my black slacks. Please stop looking at me! I thought in my head, closing my eyes and bumping my hip on a desk. I opened them and under my hand I saw half of who I could tell was the same popular guy who witnessed me falling on my , and had my freaking textbooks and schedules in his locker. I gritted my teeth. Hansol looked at me with interest, previously glued to his phone.

"Mianhae..." I apologized lowly, and Taeyong slapped the unoccupied desk next to where his respective desk was impatiently.

          I fastened my pace, sighing as I went up the aisle and pulling the chair so I could sit.  The teacher arrived a minute later, asking if all of the students had a good weekend or not. A chorus of "ne, sesaengnim!" grew in volume, and I was literally cringing because I knew what was coming next as a result of the last class. Does a skip button exist in real life?

"We have a new student in class! Give applause to Nakamoto Yuta, who came straight from Busan!" he bellowed, and I didn't even have to stand up to get noticed; they already knew who I was.

          I managed a small smile, weakly watching as they robotically clapped their hands together, clearly not amused. Class passed like this, I was so out of place and awkward but I knew that if I wanted to do good in this school, I would have to try my best. And so ten minutes passed of me telling myself inspirational and encouraging quotes in my head. That's what it started off with, and I naturally started daydreaming about home right then.

It was two years since the incident that led up to my parents' divorce. I still can remember it with such clarity, these things are never easy to forget.

          Qian had been in my bedroom, leaning out the window. I was frowning, going with a dark blue blanket to cover him since he insisted on opening the window. The air was chilly. The door was closed, and as soon as he heard our mother's footsteps coming towards my room, he dropped the cigarette outside. How could we get rid of that disgusting smell? We couldn't; it could have been either of us who smelled. My mother barged in, and Qian had a innocent expression when she saw him.
He was shaking, and pointed to me. I felt terrible, I couldn't believe what my brother just did. What my mother, what I saw, they were two different things and just as I pointed at Qian, her face became as red as a tomato.

"It was you!" she crazily accused, and Qian pretended not to see me.

I bit my lips to keep from crying, my throat was becoming increasingly constricted. How do I- how am I supposed to deny it? She would just reject it.

"I did not, it was Qian! I would never!" I cried, steeling myself.

"How could you do this to your own brother?! Not only will your lungs will go black, but you are a liar too! You don't hide secrets from your mother!" she sounded as if she was being choked, the words coming out disconnected.

My mother angrily slapped me in the face so hard, that my whole face whipped back making a loud slam on the wall. Qian put his hand over his mouth in astonishment, while I broke down, cried and said I was sorry. I was in a way, admitting that I was smoking, when I was not.

"Eomma! It's fine, hurry, hurry... let's go have some tea." he ushered, bouncing off the bed and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Should I make d