“He’s always by himself, look at him!”

The chorus of other similar voices travelled through one ear and out the other. It was a part of his life now, a necessity in his boring routine, but he couldn’t understand why the others found him so strange. Why should anyone be bothered by his almost unnoticeable presence?

“Hi, Jungkook-ssi! You look just as dead as ever!” – a feminine voice this time, one he recognised far too easily.

That was his name – Jungkook. Surely, he had a name, everyone did, but he couldn’t understand why. Why would anyone agree to go by a name that was randomly given to you as a child?

No, he wasn’t stupid; he was aware of the difficulty that would arise if the world was home to nameless people.

With a sigh leaving his chapped lips, he forced himself off the bench at the back of the room, swinging his backpack over his shoulders, his hands tightening their hold around the plastic bottle that was almost empty now.

“We’re going to continue these steps tomorrow! I want each and every one of you to focus on your posture and bring out your own style! And I sure hope no one disappoints me during next week’s performance!”, the teacher’s voice boomed across the room.

Jungkook didn’t care; he knew he would pass the exams anyway. Indeed, he was quiet, perhaps arrogant, a mystery in the supposedly exciting varsity, but he was soaring forward with his grades. It was only a pity that people knew him for his lack of life rather than his academic performance. Besides, he couldn’t understand why a qualified teacher would be the one to decide the future of potential dancers.

No, he didn’t lack common sense; he knew the purpose of qualified teachers testing each student.

He suppressed the urge to curse as he evacuated the room, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead and his torso, his white tee clinging to his body; rushing into the washroom, he ignored the existence of the others, only to emerge back into the hallway, clad in fresh clothing – there were no traces of exhaustion from three strenuous hours of energised dancing and stretching, but he frowned at the heavy weight he carried mentally.

“Jungkook, wait!”, a panting voice called out.

The aforementioned his heels and fixed a glare on the poor boy that raced across the hallway.

“Mr. Lee… Mr. Lee’s l-looking for you! I think… I think it’s about the upcoming c-competition!”, the fatigued student explained in between uneven breaths, widening his eyes as Jungkook simply walked away with no response.

The designated door swung open aggressively as Jungkook pushed in, startling the occupants of the room; he eyed the array of students, some of which lay on the floor, some of which were sharpening their dance steps, others chugging down water like starved creatures.

“Ah, Jungkook! Welcome, welcome! I’m sure you’ve seen the posters all around campus, and I would truly appreciate it if you would consider participating! You are free to form a group for the final performance, but I would like to see the whole team practice together in that case!”

Jungkook gritted his teeth at the awfully loud voice of the teacher, nodding gently and muttering under his breath: “I will think about it. Thank you.”

He rolled his eyes carelessly as audible gasps and whispers flooded the room as he spoke, almost as if they never heard him speak – which was partly true, it was just a rare occasion. He shook his head to himself, bowing towards his teacher with almost no respect, before leaving the room in a hurry.

“Yikes!” A pause. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, Jungkook-ssi!”

He grunted lowly upon bumping into a student. Ignoring the series of apologies being thrown towards him, he stepped to the side to walk away – with his eyes closed, mind you. He didn’t bother sparing a glance at which apologetic boy he crashed into, but just like his quick reflexes, – perhaps this incident wasn’t the perfect example – he swiftly caught a glimpse of a head of silver hair.

It was finally his most anticipated hour of the day – the one-hour break before his final class. He dragged his feet towards that reserved corner in the cafe just across campus; throwing his bag against the glass panels of the cafe, he let his body fall onto the seat. Plugging in his earphones, he leaned back and shut his eyes, the music cruising through his body and muting out the world around him.

Suddenly, he fluttered his eyes open, only to see a woman behind the counter moving in the same pattern repeatedly. Reluctantly, he pulled out one of his earbuds.

“Sir, the counter’s free! Order up!”, the voice repeated.

He groaned to himself. He just wanted some silence – the loud music didn’t count. He just couldn’t understand why it was apparently unexpected if a customer were to just sit at a cafe without ordering anything.

No, he wasn’t an idiot; he was aware of the fact that anyone would expect a customer to order something at a cafe.

Hesitantly, he raised his voice: “An iced Americano!”

All eyes turned towards him; none of the varsity students that sat in the cafe thought that the silent boy would actually scream out his order. The woman behind the counter wore a puzzled expression before forcing herself to make Jungkook his drink.

“Oh, so you do have a voice!”

Jungkook let out a sigh and looked to his side, stretching his lips into a tight smile.

It was the same silver-haired boy, his eyes forming crescents as a wide smile laced his lips. His cheerful voice stung