Begin

I dread change, whether it's a small diversion or a major one.

And, in the past few months, major is all that I, Kim Taehyung, have come to know.

I used to live in a beautiful place called Incheon. It was a peaceful, neighborly environment that I grew fond of overtime.

It's a hobby of mine to admire beauty—the kind of beauty that not many others take the time to notice and take in. So, the views were the most memorable. Setting or rising, I'd watch the sun as it shone through the many stony structures of different homes. Sometimes, I'd watch it with my friends, and others by myself.

It's one of those sights that you'd never forget.

Incheon always held an essence of wholesomeness with everyone that inhabited it. Everyone knew one another, and it was unlikely that someone had friction with someone else. It was a place where comfort and joy was given and received, and friendships were easy to make. That was why it was so attractive in the first place, especially for my family.

Hell, maybe that's one of the reasons why my parents desired to move there.

It was considered a place that I can call home; my home.

I guess, this is where change comes in.

Change is a time when things can start anew, or more so, when a chapter ends, and another begins. Though, this isn't about a simple personal or characteristic change, but it can be. It's a natural concept for a human to shape and grow into who they are, but in this case, it's much more than that.

See, my life now is different than it was in Incheon. My extended family thinks it's what's best, but for the most part, I don't know what to think. I've learned that speaking my thoughts is useless, because I don't have a choice anymore.

I must accept the fact that everything is gone.

There's a few urgent knocks on the wooden barrier that separated myself from reality, and it did a great job of shaking me out of my thoughts.

Oh, how I've been waiting for this day.

Not.

Today, I start my junior year of high school and I wouldn't want nothing more than to have that idea crumpled up and thrown into an imaginary shredder. The whole summer was a recuperation process. All I did was sleep, sleep, and sleep some more since it was all that I could bring myself to do.

Call it a routine that was self-prescribed, but hey, it worked.

It kept my mind off most things that are wrong in life, but sometimes, it'd come to bite me in my dreams, or more so, my nightmares. It's worse to fall asleep and let the vivid images consume you. I'd rather drown in my thoughts all day than go to sleep and witness it like it's been recorded on tape. Everyone thinks I'm going to die from lack of sunlight, and I thought I was going to die from the feeling of being constricted.

"Yo, get ready," Jimin said. "School starts soon, and I want to show you the route."

Jimin's my cousin. The brown-haired, brown-eyed, popular, and not-exactly-a-close-cousin-of-mine, Jimin. From what I've observed, he's a bit of a dolt. There's no time for boasting, but if I'm going to compare him to myself, I can safely say that I score higher on the spectrum of intelligence.

That's all the details that I have, because I don't really hang out with him as much as I should. I've been living in his home since summer began; my Aunt Kimberly's.

In the first few weeks of moving in, Jimin tried to be sociable with me. He'd try to invite me everywhere. After a thousand rejections, he got the memo that I'm not talkative, cool, or an interesting family member (or, person, for that matter).

If you're wondering why I live with my aunt, I'm going to leave that segment of the story for later.

"Yeah, I'm getting ready," I said.

Loud, retreating footsteps stomped down the hall, so I gathered the rest of my remaining strength to get up and prepare for the day I've waited patiently for all summer.

Ha, good one.

I've been awake for a while now. For whatever reason, in the past however months, and most definitely this week, it's been difficult to push myself out of bed. I must exert a mental shove to myself and attempt to retain a positive aspect to the concept of school. On the bright side, my depressing, lonesome days will be busier, giving less time to thinking, and more to another subject, like learning or socializing.

I mentally gagged.

Who am I kidding? It's not like school will halt my mind from rambling with thoughts of the past or make me pay attention to the blabbering of strict teachers that barely know what they're talking about to begin with. All in all, I have no choice but to drag my loner to the place where education blossoms and ensues.

With a tiresome groan, I rise to my feet and throw on something decent. It's the school's uniform: a black jacket over a white long-sleeved shirt, a tie, and a pair of dark trousers.

It wasn't too uncomfortable, but I still hated it.

I zip open my backpack and check that I have the necessary items for my classes; a notebook and a pencil, perfect. Now, I know what you're thinking: that's it? Yes, I don't intend on paying attention on the first day of classes. The most work we'd do is stand up in front of the class and state our names, what our hobbies are, and what our favorite color is. Like anyone cares about what you have to say, anyways.

As I shut my bag and slung a sleeve over my shoulder, I placed my headphones around my neck and plugged it into my phone, shoving the device into my pocket for momentary use. I made my way into the bathroom, relieved myself, and brushed my teeth.

Can't have bad breath on the first day of school.

That'll make terrible first impressions.

Pfft, then again, there's a billion other aspects of myself that would made a bad impression.

Before exiting, I looked myself over in the mirror, grimacing in the process. A plastered frown and slightly noticeable bags under my eyes.

God, could I look any worse?

Ah, I can't be the only one that looks and feels miserable.

My focus trickled upward to inspect my overly messy hair. I huffed, grabbing a comb and wrestled with the obnoxious strands that refused to settle upon my scalp nicely.

"Hurry your up, Taehyung," I hear an eager Jimin shout from the first floor. I also heard Aunt Kimberly tell him to watch his language. I couldn't help but let out a genuine laugh. That's a first. 

I trudge down the flight of stairs. My mind's empty, so I listen to my shoes plopping against the hardwood in loud, rhythmic thumps.

I observed Jimin's posture at the bottom. His phone was in his left hand and the other was gripping the rail. The sole of his foot tapped against the floor with the type of anticipation that implicates he wants to get on his way.

What's he so eager to do at school?

I flashed Jimin a wry smile, "you're awfully impatient, Jimin. Not a good look."

"Shut up." He said. "It's the first day of junior year for the both of us, aren't you excited?"

Who the hell does he think I am? Thirsty for lounging for eight hours straight, let alone being around short-tempered teachers and yappy teenagers?

No, thank you.

"Excited isn't the right word to describe it," I replied, "It's more like I'm trying to avoid the idea by steering clear of it, but with you, I don't think I can."

Jimin rolled his eyes at my negativity, coherently scoffing as we leave the house. Aunt Kimberly's voice paused my movements.

"Aren't you going to eat breakfast, Taehyung?" If I eat anything, I think I might throw up. Not because I'm nervous, but because I despise eating anything in the morning. I'll give her a safe answer, so she'll leave me alone.

"I'll get something at school." Add a smile, too. "Thank you, Aunt Kim."

Walking alongside Jimin put things into perspective. It's finally here, the day that summer officially ended, and an untold chapter begins.

A chapter that's surely going to be a doozey; I have a talent for foreseeing the future.

Change is an unavoidable mystery. You don't really know what to expect, but I think that's the interesting thing about it, or in my case, the most frightening.

Due to my superhuman abilities of sensing things that annoy me, I catch Jimin's shifty, momentary gazes in my peripheral. The fourth time was enough.

God, if you have something to say, say it.

I glanced over. "What is it?"

He hesitated, but I can see it. I know exactly what he's going to ask, and I pray he doesn't. It's the only thing I've been constantly hearing.

He asked, concerned, "Are you alright?"

I ing knew it. I appreciate the interest in checking on my mental health, but the answers going to be the same every time.

"No."

"Taehyung—"

"I know," I said. "It's been four months since the accident. That's not why."

Four months since what, you may ask? Remember that segment of the story that I said I would put off until later? Well, this is the time when I tell you.

Four months ago, my parents died in a wreck, and so did fifteen other passengers. If I had a choice, I wanted to die with them. It was a huge news story that I hope didn't reach Busan, but I wouldn't count on it. I don't recall every sliver of the event. I've lost most of the memories that I had of that day and days prior. It's all scattered, waiting to be pieced together.

We were riding in a bus. It happened in a matter of seconds, almost too quick for thinking or flinching. I don't know how I survived, but I have a gnarly scar to prove it.

That should answer most of your questions.

When Aunt Kim heard the news, all she wanted to do was take me under her wing. She was ruined for a whole month and a half before she started to get better, again.

Even now, I can't comprehend on the idea of coping. I think of it this way; when tragedy hits, it's placed in its own little box, stored in a corner within your heart and mind. It will always be there to haunt you if you choose to open it, to put you into a rumination of horror and sadness.

I can't shake away those awful nightmares about that day, but the amount of hurt that I feel in the moment lessened with time. If I delve into the thought for too long, it drives me into a pit of depression. Storing it away to cope is what I've tried my hardest to do and its working so far. For the most part. One thing will never change though, and it's the fact that with every day that comes and goes, there's never a moment that I don't miss my parents.

"Why aren't you alright?" Jimin pesters. I forgot I was holding a conversation with him. I don't necessarily know why he cares; I know he's my cousin, but we don't know each other on a personal level.

During the summer, he was usually with his friends, as popular and well-known as he claims to be. That's an awful trait because he may drag me along on social events.

"You know I'm not okay, yet you ask me if I am. It's better to not ask at all." Was that harsh? Maybe. Then again, I don't know how to say things in a polite way without being rudely straightforward.

Jimin scrunches up one side of his face, perplexed at my response.

"How am I supposed to know if you're alright or not?" He asked. "How am I supposed to know what you're thinking? You haven't talked much to me or my mom at all."

"I'm not familiar with this change—" ah, the famous word invites itself to roll off my tongue, once again. It should be the word of the day. "—this new life, this new environment, the people. Just give me time and I'll come through."

"Yeah... I get it," Jimin cleared his throat. I hope I don't have to explain myself, again. "Um, sorry."

Better be. "It's no problem. Just a reminder, you really don't have to worry about me killing myself, Jimin. Relax."

"Shut up," he nudged my arm, and the corner of his lips quirked. "But, seriously, be excited. This place is as easy as it comes. You don't have to worry about trying to fit in."

Fitting in is not the problem, dear cousin. It is simply the thought of my life changing in a matter of seconds that baffles me the most; the adjustment of a whole new scenery that I was never equipped to come in touch with at such a quick pace. I'm sure I'll get used to the idea of living here as I deal with the confliction of my alarming thoughts, my overwhelming anxieties that arose from the accident, and the stench of snobby teenagers and stuck ups of all degrees. I must learn all the new routes to certain locations and sure enough, dealing with the letdown of achieving no friends in school. That achievement was difficult enough to acquire at my old school.

I'm surprised I haven't strayed away from the rest of my conversation with Jimin by placing my headphones over my ears. Music is a perfect way to tune out of reality and disconnect yourself from the world. I found peace and stability from it whenever I'm thinking too much.

Although I had the urge to tune Jimin out now, I felt like this somewhat-of-an-in-depth conversation will dig out a newfound respect between him and I. Not that I'm asking or hoping for it. That, and I don't want to be rude, sensing that this topic is not ending just yet.

As expected, Jimin turns his head and questions, "You don't remember living here, do you?"

That surely got my attention. And, the answer is no. Obviously, there's scattered memories and glimpses of short images of the past times, but there's not much that I can recall. When I was forced to move here, Aunt Kim informed me of the fact that I used to. I think she was attempting to make me feel comfortable or something.

After a bit of silence on my part, I finally responded, "No."

"I remember you and I were close." His subtle tone hinted that he was in a realm of musing, commemorating the old times that I barely could remember. He frowns. "I don't remember much of the details, but I know we had good times."

I can grasp onto three things that I remember: the welcoming scent of the salty, thick air, the relative sounds of whooshes that incoming waves resonated, and the sights of the clear, cerulean water soaking at my feet.

It's a blissful memory, so I agree with Jimin.

I had several glimpses of a few friends that'd flash through my head as well but it's mostly all hazy. It's been over a decade since then, so forgetting segments of the past is normal. I do know that I spent a lot of my childhood years at the beach. I must've been happy and relaxed, too. I had no worries like every other kid at that age.

"We were four or five. It's difficult to remember every segment of those years," I said, half-shrugging, "but, that's why the past is the past and the present is now."

He nodded, understanding. He began to stare forward in a thoughtful manner, withdrawing himself from further conversation.

A comfortable silence drew in between Jimin and I—a pocket of quietness that I was waiting for, no offense to him. I usually don't conversate so much in the mornings, especially about matters that involve digging into the brain's cerebral cortex or being rudely interrogated about my mental state, not that it's anyone's business.

In the bare visage that I had while squinting, I can see it; Kwang Academy was in view. The more I drew in, the more dreadful it appeared. The largely structured complex resembled a busy maze—one that intimidated me. I have no doubt I'll get lost trying to find my classes in that mess of a building.

Kwang Academy beat my old school by a long shot with how vastly magnificent and classy it was. It's as if it was made for the wealthy. The entire vicinity was.

I scowled, huffing at the sight of countless students bustling through the entrance with an excited skip in their step. They're practically salivating for education and social interaction.

I spotted other classmates lounging in the courtyard that had a few welcoming benches laid out for the public—how thoughtful. There're more groups standing near the steps that led to the double-doored entrance.

I will never understand how teenagers can be so excited for the first day of school. It's the first day that signifies the following nine months of pure torture. I don't care if you haven't seen your dear friends for the past three months and can't wait to know what's been going on in their lives. News flash, if you or your friends don't take the time to talk to each other during the summer, you aren't that close.

End of mental rant.

"Guess our summer vacation is over," Jimin self-reminds, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He took in the well-structured building piece-by-piece as it towered before him. He sighed, adding: "Officially."

Wait, wasn't he excited?

"Yay." I sardonically mumbled.

He laughed, a shake of his head following my bland remark that he took for a joke. He looked over in my direction, a questionable countenance etched upon his face. "You good to go on your own from here? You receive your schedule in—"

"The office, got that," I interjected, flinging my index finger against my temple as a signification that I recall that. "Oh, no need to wait on me after school. I know my way back."

"You sure?" I wouldn't say I did if I didn't. I have an impressive power for remembering routes as I've been used to doing so, especially those of short distances.

I nodded, the grip on the sleeve of my backpack tightening as I witness a few of what seemed like Jimin's pals approaching us. Scratch that, not a few, but a whole damn posse. I'm counting at least six or seven, mixed of all possible genders.

Time for me to jet.

As I walked toward the entrance, I heard Jimin call out, "See you later. I hope you're in one of my classes."

I guess, I hope so, too.

I kind of don't, though.

Who knows what type of interactions he'd drag me in? He obviously has a social status to keep in check and I wouldn't be surprised if he'd introduce me to his clan of friends for the sake of my own.

I threw myself into the horrific trenches, or in a less dramatic term, the narrow halls that contained a multitude of students. Most are waiting for the first bell and others were in various lines to retrieve their schedules.

I was thankful to be away from Jimin and his groupies. I've never met them before, but I, for some reason, always felt a surge of anxiety with a large group of people. I don't think I have some sort of social anxiety. I can talk to people; I just choose not to. Anti-social may be a proper term, but I don't like to think of it that way. I'm grateful that the power of invisibility is endless. It's the best way to stroll through classes. Once mastered, not even the teacher will know your name, and that's the greatest gift.

Tough luck, I don't have invisibility mastered, but I may have a chance at being left alone. It seems at this school, you're either known or you're not, which makes this place a bit more promising and tolerable.

Out of genuine curiosity, I craned my head to the side to survey the pace of the schedules being lent out. It shouldn't be that lengthy of a process, seeing as there's multiple lines.

I exhaled in relief; it was a speedy system. My line was moving at a comfortable rate.

I shifted my gaze to the side, feeling curious stares nagging at me to make eye-contact. I received unreadable looks by two students that were huddled close to the other, sharing quick glances. Their lips moved simultaneously. I couldn't tell what they were talking about due to the amount of random chatter that filled the air, but I had a pretty good guess.

The pair were both females, but I only studied the appearance of the main gossiper. She had the blondest hair, seemingly leaning towards a bleached color, stopping just below her shoulders. She wore the girl-version of my uniform (minus the jacket) and instead of trousers, she had a skirt on.

Her stare was gentle but penetrating.

Dangerous.

Too bad her bothersome staring was bugging me. How rude of a gesture that it was. My mind almost got distracted and complimented her.

I mentally rolled my eyes and began to ignore her, including her friend. It's uncomfortable to be in this position. To distract and clear my mind, I lifted my headphones over my head and pressed Play.

My worries shifted to the side, temporarily locked away. My mind was relaxed, and the stress I had felt was drained out my body. I drifted off into a sea of darkness as I shut my eyes for a few minutes. That is, until I felt a small nudge against my back.

See what I mean? I despise this place and the people in it. Can't have a short moment of relaxation for a single minute.

I pried my eyelids open to find that I was next in line to retrieve my schedule. I shot an intimidating glance over my shoulder to only find a random student alerting me to move forward.

Unspoken apology accepted.

I stepped forward, analyzing the office lady slumped over a packet of schedules. What a terrible job to take up on the first day—she must hate it. The number of wrinkles on her face increased as she forced a smile that was anything but genuine.

I uncovered the left cushion of my headphones to listen to what she had to say.

She huffed tiredly, causing her bangs to flutter in the air. In a monotonous tone, she asked, "Name?"

You and me both, miss. "Kim Taehyung."

I heard the first bell ring throughout the extensive halls. The remaining students behind me groaned in despair at the fact that they didn't have much time left to get to class early. I didn't mind, I knew I was going to be late for class either way. This place screamed confusion.

"That's why you get your schedules during the summer. Lesson learned," the office lady chimes in, soaked with attitude. She shuffled through the pack of papers like lightning and held out my schedule. "Next."

I nodded as a gesture of appreciation, returning my headset to fit comfortably over both my ears. Farther away, I leaned against a wall and my lips. I skimmed and traced a finger over the teacher's names that correlated to each class.

History: Mr. Heechul. Simple and clean. History is tolerable.

Math: Mrs. Loder. God, is her personality as miserable as her name?

Art: Mrs. Strife. Hands down, a class that I don't need to attend to know it's my favorite.

Then, I have lunch; the time when being a loner really shows. Great.

English: Mr. Cid.

Science: Mrs. Asuna.

Physical Education: Mr. Eraqus.

I heaved a sharp breath, swallowing thickly.

My nervous stomach flipped and turned. My heart jumped imaginary, short-distanced hurdles. All the signs of your nerves eating you alive. I did not come physically or mentally prepared for school.

It was time I had to bite the bullet, it up, and pull through.

How bad could it be, anyways?

I bounced off the wall, straightened my slumped posture, and trained a firm eye on the slip of paper. I took in the classroom number: 1-136. Building one, room one-thirty-six. Seeing as I am in building one, I'm guessing if I continue down this long- hall, I'll most likely find it.

The final sound of another bell went off at a much higher volume than the first, practically rupturing my ear drums in the process. Although I disliked school and teachers, being nearly a minute late to class irked me.

Suddenly, a long-awaited surge of relief coursed through my entire body and mind. Somehow, it was as if the world wasn't totally against me. Mr. Heechul's classroom glistened before my very eyes, as if I completed a mission, and another awaited inside.

I clasped a hand around the door handle and pried the er open.

To my dismay, I was met with stares, stares, and a couple of more suffocating stares. I hate stares. Mr. Heechul had the deadliest one of all.

Gossip was huge here. I did a once-over around the room and witnessed various lips moved to speak words, but hell, I couldn't hear it.

Gazes wavered, chubby fingers snapped mere inches from my nose, and I wouldn't want nothing more than to fade off into a reality that was distances away from this one.

oh, hi. this is a new story i've conjured up, although its been on my mind for the passed five months. its going to compile bts, rv, and bp members. possibly twice, i'll see what i can do??

anyways, ive had this in my drafts for awhile and ive decided to make it into a vrene fic, since taehyung and joohyun have my entire heart (besides seungwan). im also obsessed with first person, bitter taehyung so we're rolling with it.

i have four chapters fully written so far, so i will update once im done editing all of them. i hope whoever does read this throughly enjoys it! its gonna be quite a journey and im pumped.

appreciate u for reading!