Taekwoon was asked several times to speak up he introduced himself to the class; his voice was too soft for those up the back of the room to even hear it. Taekwoon didn’t really mind if no one heard his name, he wasn’t here to make friends. He wasn’t here to enjoy himself. He was simply in this room to complete the semesters work while his parents worked abroad, and after that he would go back to his old school and finish his schooling there, probably ahead of everyone else.

When he had first arrived the only seat that was free was one in the middle of the back row, next to the class president – someone who Taekwoon immediately taken a disliking to, he found him unnecessarily cheerful. The rest of the class seemed to like the class president however, everyone greeting him with a large smile or a high-five before homeroom started. Taekwoon knew that he wasn’t going to get along with anyone if he stayed this way and he was quite happy about with that.

He discovered that homeroom went for longer than it did at his old school. An hour to prepare yourself for the day ahead, half an hour more than at his last school. During the first few minutes the homeroom teacher had pulled Taekwoon aside and asked what his plans were – to get given easier work or the same – and he explained to her, in a soft voice, and fewer words, that he didn’t want special treatment, that he could do their work no problem. The conversation ended with her stating she would let his other teachers know of his decision. For the first few minutes of homeroom he observed what the other students did.

In the front row, two girls were gossiping about the latest idol group to make a comeback, they got a little too over excited and got scolded for being too loud. Two students were sleeping by the windows, and another was snoring on the other side of the room. He was then hit over the head by one of his friends and jolted awake, swearing to murder them. He too got scolded, but politely apologised and the matter was dropped. The front two rows seemed to be focused on the gossip the two girls were providing and the rest of the students were doing their own thing or finish last night’s homework.

Taekwoon sighs, and pulls out one of his books. It’s new book for him, given to him by one of his sisters before he left, the book itself is second hand, and possibly had been leant out a few times – or just extremely well read – due to the pealing of the leather hard cover. When he was first handed it he had flicked through it and found several pencil marks in the later chapters. His sister knew him well.

He loved books with character.

The book, or rather, novel, had been recommended to him by his English teacher about a year or two ago. But because the novel had only been released in Korean a few years back, with only one set of prints spread throughout the country, it had become hard to find. Taekwoon was lucky his sister had found it.

As he read he could feel eyes on him, watching him as he flicked past page after page. Reading the book like it had blank pages, even when he stopped to understand the meaning of a misused word; it didn’t seem long enough to be believable to those watching him. When he had reached the half way point of the novel, he looked up at the clock and noticed that he only had five minutes left before the next class. And he hadn’t even looked at his timetable or book list yet, too busy attempting to memories the map before class and reading throughout homeroom had given him little time left to actually assess what would happen throughout the day.

Marking his page he placed his book back into his satchel and pulled out the timetable he had placed in one of the pockets. He set it out neatly in the centre of the table before pulling out a set of highlighters. Reading through the list of times and classes he highlighted the ones he felt he would have to work hard in, using the pink highlighter.  Yellow was used next, highlighting the classes he thought he might struggle in and green was used to highlight the single class he knew he would pass with flying colours.

“Why is Korean literature in green?” a voice asks beside him. Taekwoon turns to find a rather tan, smiling boy looking at him with expectant eyes. The class president.

Taekwoon took in the other boy’s appearance. He was pretty, for a boy, Taekwoon thought. His tan skin was a shade or three darker than everyone else in the room. His dark brown eyes gleamed with some kind of fire of hope and happiness, his slender nose, his wide smile that showed his teeth. Taekwoon noticed all this, he noted that the boy was probably insecure about the fact that he had darker skin than most; taking in the obvious difference between the tone of skin of his face and lower neck. Taekwoon thought that although this boy was popular for who he was, he was probably always trying to stay that way.

“Why is Korean literature in green?” he repeats, watching Taekwoon’s stoic expression for some kind of answer and finding nothing behind what seemed like a scowl. And although he feels like he has annoyed Taekwoon, he doesn’t stop smiling. “It’s okay if you don’t want to answer now.” He says cheerfully, “I will try again later.” He smiles and sits back in his seat.

Taekwoon frowns. He is not here to make friends.

When Taekwoon arrives home – his grandmother had picked him up from outside the gate, but gave him a look that suggested that this also would be the last time – his grandmother goes to the kitchen and puts the kettle on, while he places his bag in his room. The two meet in the kitchen, nothing is said while the kettle boils. Nothing is said as his grandmother mixes two cups of coffee and sets them down on the bench.

It is when they both are seated that the conversation starts.

“How was it?” his grandmother asks, taking a sip of her coffee before wincing and setting it back down.

Taekwoon looks into his cup, watching the steam rise and seemly disappear into nothing. Honestly speaking, the classes and topics were good, at slightly more advanced level than he was on just yet, and some concepts confused him, especially when talks of university entrance exams popped up in between the important lessons of the day. The class too, wasn’t that bad. At his old school the class had had many rowdy characters that constantly disrupted the lessons; however this class had one or two. And they knew when it was okay to be rowdy, when it was okay to make a smart comment, so Taekwoon didn’t mind it all that much. It was the persistence of the class president that had bugged him. He had constantly asked questions during class breaks, and forcefully sat himself beside Taekwoon at lunch, during which he had a conversation with him. But Taekwoon never replied. Taekwoon was surprise that he had continued to talk even when there was no reply, but he continued blabbering on about the school until Taekwoon got up left. And, even though this happened for the entire day, Taekwoon still didn’t even remember the guy’s name.

He looks up at his grandmother, who was watching his expression closely. “It was okay.” He mutters.

The old woman nods, “I see.” Again she sips her coffee, this time indulging in its warmth. “I understand.”

The two retire to their rooms once the coffee is finished, his grandmother having only making a few comments here and there about how she was still looking for a piano tutor for him.

Already the two have settled into a nice routine. Taekwoon studying while his grandmother read, Taekwoon would set the table, his grandmother would cook. The two would eat in near silence, and then unset the table and clean up together before once again leaving to stay in different ends of the house.