“We look at the same stars,
And see such different things.”
—     George R. R. Martin

PART I.

The sound of loud music and cursing and what probably was his mom trying to cook woke Jihoon up on a Monday morning. Grumbling, the 18-year-old boy stretched under his covers and opened his heavy eyes just slightly. It was surprising that Jihoon was awake at such an early hour; he was known for waking up late, standing up at the last minute and running towards the door to make it in time to school, he recognized it himself – so he stayed still in awe in his bed, looking at the stars on his ceiling move as he wondered why, and why the butterflies on his stomach. Of course Lee Jihoon was way too proud and way too stubborn to admit that going to a new school absolutely terrified him and that that was the reason anxiety crept up on his body and made his stomach writhe.

Jihoon sighed; he really didn’t want to go to school that Monday (or, well, any other Monday), it wasn’t that he hated school; actually, Jihoon enjoyed learning and reading, he used to love the way sentences slipped out of his previous literature teacher’s mouth, and how there were many ways and means to express his feelings through words. Jihoon absolutely loved it, but he loved sleeping even more, and school usually interfered with his relationship with his bed. Folding his arms across his chest, he wrote on his mental to-do list to take those ugly fluorescent stars off his ceiling, and after a few more curses and the sound of glass shattering against the floor, he decided it was time to get ready for his first day in a new school.

Jihoon still couldn’t understand why he had to leave his previous school – in which he had been since he was a child. He practically grew up there and it was hard for him to leave the small building, and as much as he supported his parents’ decision of starting all over, he wasn’t sure if changing schools was going to change that much in his life (or at least make a positive change on it). He hadn’t complained though, and as he brushed his teeth he couldn’t do anything but wonder what would have happened if he had said something, anything to his parents, instead of nodding at every word they had said to him after they asked him to sit down and have a talk with them. Would he still have this burning, aching sensation in the pit of his stomach? He’d probably be waiting for his friend, Ming Ming to get ready and laugh when he complained about not having enough time to fix his hair in the mornings. Probably, Jihoon smiled as he thought so. He really wished he had done something.

Jihoon walked downstairs, wide eyed and awake enough to know he had to skip breakfast – which, by the way, smelled now like burnt bacon. He felt sorry as he looked to the kitchen, which had his dad sitting on the table and reading the newspaper, and his mom running to keep the eggs from burning. Almost tiptoeing and not breathing, Jihoon made his way towards the door and silently turned the doorknob, planning to leave home until he heard his mom calling his name from behind.

And when did she get there?

Jihoon groaned, turning around to find his mom in front of him, wearing her overused, pink apron and a wide smile.

“Good morning, sweetheart! I was just making breakfast, are you leaving already?” His mom tilted her head in a confused fashion as she cleaned her hands in the apron.

Jihoon smiled at her almost too forcedly.

“Hey, mom good morning… it smells awesome and everything but it’s getting kind of late and-

“Oh, but it’s your favorite! It’s your first day on school and I wanted you to feel good and ready for it…” His mother’s smile grew even more, “But never mind, it doesn’t matter- I’ll just throw it away…” She continued, now with a hint of sadness on her voice.

Jihoon grimaced.

His mom was so manipulative sometimes.

Jihoon wanted to decline; honestly, the only thing he’d get from eating his mom’s breakfast was a stomachache, but he couldn’t find himself to say no as he looked into his mom’s hopeful eyes.

“No! I’ll eat it - a few more minutes won’t affect me, right?” Jihoon smiled again, now walking towards his mother to embrace her and kiss the top of her head. “I bet it tastes great, mom.”

Jihoon knew he had made the right choice when he saw the bright, broad smile on his mom’s lips.

… Or maybe not, he thought as he waited outside of the principal’s office. Jihoon groaned, holding his stomach tightly. He should really learn how to say no, goddammit! He was sure his mom loved him enough to not poison him, but he was also sure there was something spoiled in what he had had for breakfast. The 18-year-old folded his arms across his chest and looked around. Honestly speaking, Jihoon had been complaining so much about his pain on his way to school that he hadn’t had time to actually observe the institution; which was rather different to what he used to know, with its light-colored walls and bright, red lockers and uniforms that nobody seemed to care about.

Jihoon’s eyes curiously scanned the room; he looked at the people animatedly talking on his left, students walking through the entrance and heading to their lockers, and then he glanced to the right… just to find a brunette eyeing him with no shame; skinny arms folded and legs crossed – as if he was trying to make Jihoon know he was judging him. Startled by his expression, Jihoon looked down, thinking maybe he was wrong and his mind was just playing tricks with him, and then looked up once again to realize that, in fact, the brunette was glaring at him with his doe-like eyes as if he had grown two heads.

Jihoon cleared his throat, feeling slightly small in front of this lanky stranger.

“Um… do you need help?” Jihoon asked, letting a shaky laugh out while he tried his best to stare directly into the boy’s eyes. The brunette’s lips turned into a smile as soon as Jihoon started speaking – however, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah. Do you happen to be Lee Jihoon?” The boy questioned, glancing at some heavy-looking papers in his hands that Jihoon hadn’t seen before.

Jihoon, still confused, nodded with his head as an answer.

The male nodded back (or did he shake his head? Jihoon wasn’t sure) and smiled once again, this time wider. “I’m Boo Seungkwan, president of the class you’ll be in.”

The boy– Seungkwan then reached out his hand to shake Jihoon’s.

“I’ll be showing you around and stuff,” Seungkwan stared at his papers once again and then uninterested, looked back at Jihoon, “Class is about to start so please follow me.”

Standing up and grabbing his backpack, Boo Seungkwan started walking away from Jihoon without checking even once if he was following him.

To say Jihoon was confused was an understatement – Seungkwan seemed to be so weird – and wasn’t the one to show you around school supposed to be friendly? Seungkwan definitely didn’t look friendly, Jihoon frowned, closing and opening his mouth a few times to say something, but instead of doing it, he muttered incoherent words under his breath and then followed Seungkwan like a lost puppy. Seungkwan, who was walking way too fast for Jihoon’s liking, only turned back to glare at him as if he was the spawn of Satan.

“I would show you the lockers right now but it’s almost 8:00 a.m. and I have a record of never showing up late in class,” Boo Seungkwan informed, the nice, soft tone of his voice didn’t fit the things he was saying, “But I will do it after Literature.”

Seungkwan smiled – or at least Jihoon felt like he did, so he nodded with his head, even though Seungkwan couldn’t see him, and once again, didn’t say anything.

Silence surrounded them, and Jihoon, not knowing what to do, walked closer to the brunette, who was eyeing him suspiciously.

Jihoon opened his mouth to speak – ready to ask the president if something was wrong, but was interrupted by Seungkwan’s curiosity.

“Hey why did you change schools? You have lived your whole life in here, so why now?” Seungkwan questioned, sounding interested on Jihoon for the first time in the morning.

Raising his eyebrows Jihoon looked at Seungkwan, who was patiently waiting for an answer.

“I have access to the students’ records… you know, being the class president and all…” The brunette explained, sounding embarrassed and proud at the same time, “Anyway…”

“Huh?”

“Why did you decide to change of school? In your last year of high school, too,” Seungkwan repeated, rolling his eyes.

Seungkwan didn’t like to wait, apparently.

“I’d rather not tell you, sorry…” Jihoon answered his question with a mutter, making Seungkwan huff.

“Whatever.”

Jihoon heard something along the lines of I didn’t want to know anyway and I don’t even care, and saw how Seungkwan started to walk faster, and Jihoon, who was lost on his own world and thoughts, stopped doing it for a moment, and then ran to catch up with the brunette.

Why was Seungkwan so fast?!

“I hope you’re paying attention to where we’re going, Lee Jihoon.” Seungkwan said and looked back, smiling at him.

“Of course I am!”

“What floor are we on, then?”

Jihoon hesitated for a second… on what floor were they?

“Uh, second?”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, “Fourth! Lee Jihoon, please pay attention.”

Jihoon didn’t say anything, and instead folded his arms across his chest.

“Anyways, every Monday we have Literature with Mr. Yang, I guess you’ll like him,” Seungkwan looked at him and back to the front, and Jihoon couldn’t help but imagine how his favorite subject would be taught in this new school, “This means you’ll have to go until the fourth floor for Literature every Monday, alright? Fourth. Floor.”

“Okay…” Jihoon said, and saw as Seungkwan breathed in and out and turned his face to a door.  

“This is it.” Seungkwan said, standing in front of, apparently, the Literature classroom. Above them there were some numbers Jihoon wasn’t really interested in.

Seungkwan knocked at the door a few times softly before turning the knob and opening it. Jihoon found himself peering at the old, small man with glasses that stood in the middle of the room, which was strangely filled with chatter.

“Good morning, sir,” Seungkwan greeted, his face more radiant than ever. Jihoon glowered at Seungkwan, unable to believe the person next to him was the same boy who had been annoyingly criticizing him with his eyes a few minutes ago.

“I brought the new student here, sir. Lee Jihoon.”

Mr. Yang’s face lit up as he heard Seungkwan speak, and then he smiled tenderly to the brunette.

“Thank you, Mr. Boo, you can sit now.” Mr. Yang said. Jihoon realized he hadn’t noticed the moment where everybody shut up and stopped doing whatever they were doing just to look at him.

To say he felt uncomfortable at the moment was an understatement.

“Lee Jihoon,” Mr. Yang said brightly, “Welcome to the institution.”

Jihoon nodded as his face broke into a smile, avoiding everybody’s eyes self-consciously and looking to the floor.

“You can introduce yourself now, Mr. Lee.”

“Ah, yes… um, I am Lee Jihoon; I’m 18 years old… please take care of me.” Jihoon beamed softly and bowed to the class.

Mr. Yang smiled back at him, and sighed quietly when everybody started talking and whispering once again. This time, the conversations were about Jihoon.

“Please take a sit next to Mr. Hong, Mr. Lee. He is the one who is raising his hand.”

Jihoon looked around the classroom, just to find no one with his hand raised.

The 18-year-old decided to question the teacher about it, until he saw Mr. Yang hit the back of a boy’s head, the boy then complained in a soft voice and raised his hand halfway – Jihoon could only nod with his head once again and go towards him with wobbly legs.

Not that the boy looked intimidating – actually, he looked pretty nice. Jihoon didn’t know how nice people were supposed to look, but he guessed they were like the boy in front of him, with cool eyeliner on their eyes and soft smiles directed to him.

Jihoon already liked this guy.

“Hey,” He said, waving his hand lazily at him, “I’m Joshua.”

“Hello, my name’s Lee Jihoon.”

Joshua smirked as he opened his notebook, so Jihoon did the same. “There’s no need to be so formal,” He claimed, “Let’s be friends, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jihoon nodded and smiled back at him – not doing so was impossible – and then looked at the teacher, who was on his desk doing nothing.

Soon Jihoon felt something poking at his ribcage, and then saw a pencil pointing at his shirt and Joshua’s face, which expressed boredom.

“So… do you like Literature?” Joshua tentatively asked, which made Jihoon’s smile even wider.

Jihoon definitely liked this guy already.

I'm so, so sorry for this boring update! It's the first part of the first chapter, since the first chapter ended up being 7,000+ words I decided to split it into a few parts. I honestly feel like the chapter is kind of disappointing but eh T_T Thank you so much for subscribing and commenting and even voting! You guys are great, I hope you didn't get disappointed!