0.1134

Expressif.

Eula's pov~

               I walked home later that day, my surroundings were hazy and lucid. As always was greeted by my aunt. I looked around and the living room was unventilated and had a pungent smell, as I saw cigarette smoke dance out of the open windows. I go to my room and struggled to find the music box I heard a tink and there my music box was. In my backpack, the shiny metal glinted under the sun, more polished like quartz. My silver music box... I recalled my day today, it was normal and always was greeted with Yoongi. My music box still idly spitting out a foreign melody as I slowly laid in bed holding a book to my chest.

               The next day I sat down before the bell and as always got out an extra piece of notebook paper helping Yoongi take notes. His face was frozen and seemed unnerving, I gently nudged him to knock him out of his trance. Well, it doesn't seem that much of a big deal anyways. I leaned forward and started my daily routine of writing as many notes as my tired hand could possibly muster. I wrote each letter as neatly as possible trying not to disappoint the mystical boy next to me that seemingly seems to only radiate an indifferent attitude.

               "Hey...? Yoongi? Are you okay?" I gave him a sharp tug starting to get aggravated by his nonchalant behavior. I gave up and just moved on with my class.

               After class, I shoved my notes to him and left leaving him sitting there. I hurried to lunch and grabbed the usual soggy sandwich that I only pick out the smoked ham from. I didn't think of going to the music room today I was tired and to be honest if Yoongi wants to ignore me, then let him. I sit down in the bathroom drowning out the echoes of the rambunctious lunchroom just outside. It was as if an iridescent bubble shielded me from the world as I slowly ate the nauseating sandwich. I got up and strolled out of the bathroom and headed to my next class.

               I got home back to square one of my daily cycle of... I guess you can say hell. High school was the epitome of torment and labor mixed into a brewing pot of agonizing stew topped with arsenic for flavor. My own little world was interrupted by Yoongi and now he seems to be avoiding me. In all honesty, I really don't care... However, it would be nice to share those tranquil private sessions in the music room once in a while.