I jumped up from the sound of my three alarms; one beeped, one played a song, and the last vibrated by my pillow.

Without three, I would never wake up.

I turned all three off and groaned, still tired. I flopped back onto my bed and almost drifted back to sleep. Almost.

"Chyumi, wake up!" a voice boomed from outside my door.

"Okay!" I yelled back. More like croaked.

I threw the blankets off and kicked my legs off the bed. I slipped on my slippers and glanced in the mirror. Lucky for me, my hair doesn't go wild when I sleep.

I took out my retainers, placed them in its container, and headed down stairs.

My dad greeted me and motioned towards the cereal container and milk. ’I guess he's too tired to make me a hot breakfast.' I just nodded and sleepily took out a bowl from our dishwasher. (We keep all our plates in there since we never actually used it to wash dishes; we do that by hand.)

I dumped a good amount of cereal, yummy frosted flakes, into the bowl and added little milk. Dad handed me a spoon and retreated back to his to go back to sleep.

'Lucky,'I sighed.

I grabbed my bowl and plopped down on our shoe rack. The rack had a place to sit on top for when you put your shoes on so you don't have to sit on the floor or do it in the air.

I slowly munched on my food, watching the strong wind blow the trees in our backyard. I glanced at the clock, '6:29. Stupid school.'

I dropped my bowl in the sink and went upstairs to get ready. I slipped on the clothes I prepared the night before, grabbed my journal and messenger bag, and went to the bathroom.

After brushing my teeth and hair, I slipped on my shoes and hurried out the door.

I gasped when a rush of cold air hit me, making me shiver. I plugged my ear buds into my ears and smiled.

'I love my music.'

I trudged along the sidewalk down to the bus stop, walking - more like bouncing - to the beat. I stopped next to the stop sign and pulled the sleeves of my jacket out to cover my hands. I brought them up the my face and tried to block out the cool air. The wind had died down, but it was still piercing cold.

I glanced at the two girls conversing with each other to my right. I didn't really have friends at my bus stop. Or in this neighborhood, I should say.

Soon, the bus arrived and hurried to the back of the bus where upperclassman sat. It was an unspoken rule; underclassmen in the front and upperclassmen in the back.

I was one of the few juniors who still rode the bus. The rest had their license and cars and got to woke up later. I frowned at the thought.

My parents insist I wait until I'm out of college to get my license.

Ridiculous; I know.

I sat down in a two-seater and pushed my bag to my right. I pulled my legs up and leaned them against the back of the seat in front of me and closed my eyes.

I jammed my hands into my coat pockets and thought about names for my journal. 'Should I name it an idol name?' I softly giggled at the thought. 'Nah, that's ridiculous. I'm not thatcrazy. Actually, yes I am.' I laughed at my own idiocy.

I didn't care if I got weird, tired looks from my bus mates. Why would their opinion matter to me?

Soon enough, I arrived at my school and pouted. 'I don't want to be here.'

I hurried to my locker, greeting a few acquaintances along the way, and then headed to my homeroom. The door was, once again, locked, so I slid to the floor, back leaning against the wall, and pulled out my journal.

I pulled out my exacto knife (I use it for art) and started to carve out the name I decided.

+ 시즌 +

I smiled down at my work and tucked it back into my bag as the homeroom teacher came and unlocked the door.

I followed the teacher into the class and headed to my assigned seat. The students piled in behind me and hurried to their seats when the clock struck 7:30. The homeroom teacher checked off each students and entered it into her laptop. She passed out our schedules for the first semester and retired back to her seat.

I glanced at the clock, 7:32, and pulled my journal back out. I had time to write in it before class starts. I unlocked it with the key that dangled from my necklace and started to write.

September 7, 20XX

Dear시즌,

That's right! I named you시즌. (Just Season in Korean. Literally, haha.) (; So, I better tell you a little about myself.

My name is Chyunmi; nickname Mimi. I'm 16 and I go to a special international arts school that starts from grade 6 and ends with grade 16 (aka 12 plus a 4 year college section of the school. It's pretty grand.) I'm currently in grade 11, an h junior. (H for high school. M for middle school and C for college. Pretty easy, huh?) Um, blood type B. Birthday February 14. (Yay, Valentine's Day, right? HAHA, no. But I'll tell you about it later.)

I'm taking art classes unlike most of this school, which is made up of 90% singers, dancers and actors. More singers, though.

But I shouldn't complain. (laugh) There are so many dreamy, excuse me while I drool (not really), and super cute guys here.

Too bad I'm not worth their time.

At least, that's what it seems like.

I'm just a quiet artist who can't get a good job once I graduate. Well, that's what my mom insists.

The bell rang, signaling for us to go to our first class. I watched as most of the students left before I followed behind them.

'First day back after a long summer; yippee.'

--

"Welcome, class! Well, even though it's the first day of school, I know all of you already," my teacher, Ms. Yoon, laughed.

It was true though. My first class was Visual Arts IV, and she taught all the preceding Visual Arts that everyone has to take in order. Only some, 21 to be exact, continued to take her art classes.

"Well, we will start with self-portraits this year. Make this self-portrait represent you as a person. This project may take a while, I understand. You can use whatever material you want. You know where everything is, so if you need me, I'll be at my desk," Ms. Yoon waved us away and headed to her desk.

I shook my head at my teacher. 'Too lazy to give us a proper introduction. I guess I can't blame her though. We know her. She knows us.'

I headed to the drawer where she usually stores the mirrors and pulled one out. I settled down at a lonely table near the door and pulled out my sketchbook.

I smiled at the mirror, but it quickly went away when I saw someone come my way from the corner of my eye.

Someone who I lost respect for.

"Nice hair, Chuchu. Did it over the summer? It's an extension, right?" he smirked casually.

He reached out for the blue extensions near my left cheek, but I quickly slapped his hand away.

"Chunji, go away," I hissed with a glare. "And don't call me that anymore."

He ignored my demand, just like how I ignored his questions, and plopped down in the seat in front of me.

"Oh, come on. We dated for a year; how can you be so harsh? Plus, I know you loved it when I called you that."

"Chunji, don't cause trouble on the first day back, please," Ms. Yoon winked at me.

I sent her a grateful smile and returned to my reflection. Chunji puffed his cheeks. 'Stop being cute and go away. Let me get over you already.' But he didn't leave. He just started sketching his reflection.

Or so I thought.

In a few minutes, he held up his sketchbook and showed me what he drew.

It was a neat sketch, with a few shadows to define the cheeks and nose. It was a sketch of a girl with long black hair that curled in at the bottom and almond-shaped eyes.

Me.

"It's really good, Chunji. As always," I sighed.

It was true. He was a really good artist, something I can't deny.

"Thanks," he winked.

I furrowed my brows and looked back at my reflection. Just as I was going to continue my sketch, the bell rang.

I stayed in my seat, and so did Chunji. Only some students left.

The bell rang again, and no more students came in through the door. Ms. Yoon glanced up at us and sighed. "For AP Art, you will be working on drawing from observation. But I didn't set it up yet, so just relax for the period. And don't cause me any headaches," she said the last part while looking at Chunji and me.

Chunji grinned at her then turned to me. "So, let's catch up."

"Let's not," I replied bluntly.

"Chunji," a girl whined. "Come talk to me! I haven't seen you all summer!"

Chunji furrowed his brows, closed his eyes, and sighed. He knew very well that she would keep bothering him, and me, if he didn't comply. 'I don't want to get on her bad side if I'm going to try to restart with her,' he thought, so he just nodded.

He stood up and smiled at me one last time. "I'll talk to you later, Chu. Count on it."

The girl, Sohee, smirked arrogantly, and pulled Chunji over to her table.

I took out my journal and unlocked it with the key, ready to rant. Chunji brought back unpleasant memories that I need to get rid of. Fast.

So my first class is Visual Arts IV and the second is AP Art, which is why I can write right now. And that's not even the best part (insert sarcasm). My ex, Chunji, is in both of my classes.

I'm so in the mood to rant about him right now. My insides burn with anger and hurt right now.

So. Chunji. Real name Lee Chanhee. He's one year older than me. (Grade doesn't matter (except for middle schoolers, hah!) when picking certain classes, like art, which is why I'm stuck with him. Le sigh.)

Anyway, I wasn't originally born here in Korea. I was born in America; New Jersey to be specific. My mom is Taiwanese and my dad is Korean. They moved to America because of work. Wait that's not the point. And I don't feel like erasing... Anyway! (You will notice I side-track a lot haha.)

ANY. WAY. We moved to Korea because of dad's work, so I was sent to this school in 9th grade. That's when I met Chunji. He was quite the charmer. And I didn't know any better. In fact, I was so excited for high school. I dreamed of that high school romance crap. I really did.

And so I got it. With Chunji. He was a playboy before I came. Well, more like a womanizer. He never actually went out with anyone before. I was his first everything and vice versa.

When I came to this school, he took care of me, hung out with me, was my first friend, and most of all, my first love.

He slowly stopped being a womanizer and paid attention to me and me only.

It made me really happy. Really.Happy.

And one day, he finally asked me out. And we dated for a year and a half. He was my first kiss. And my first time.

During that year and a half, he made me so many promises. The one that hurt the most? Marriage.

We were so in love. Well, an immature teen love. And because we believed we'd be together forever, I gave him my ity.

Oh how stupid I was.

We did it for half a year. Until he debuted with this group of boys. And he got even more popular than before.

He must have gotten tired of me, and only stuck with me for the . Really. Because he would throw me aside after he was done. He even tried to get me back. He told me he still loved me. I believed him. But then he just acted the same.

It really hurt. I was so foolish.

A teardrop fell. Then another. And another.

But we learn from experiences, right? I've definitely learned my lesson.

"I see my name," a voice sang from behind, causing me to jump. 'No!'

I quickly shut my journal and spun around. "Did you see anything else?" I narrowed my eyes at Chunji.

"Nope, I couldn't get a good look. I just came to tell you class is over," Chunji grinned.

I quickly locked my journal up, stuffed it in my bag, and left. "Thanks," I muttered, pushing past him.

Chunji sighed once I was out the door. "You were even shaking. I'm sorry for what I did, Chyumi."

"Chunji, what are you still doing here? Hurry to your next class! I'm not going to write you a late pass!" Ms. Yoon pointed towards the door.

"Sorry!" Chunji hurried out the door.

Ms. Yoon just shook her head. "Teenagers," she muttered.

~=

author's note ;

Why is the spacing weird? I don't know~ And I'm too lazy to go back and fix it hehe d: So chapter 1~ (; 

Huhuhu... Chunji = past lover ♥ I hope this doesn't get confusing @___@...