When Minho Was There • Minsung

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School.

Jisung couldn't say he loved it. Nobody could ever call that hell fun; forced to socialize with the masses and study until your brain turned to mush, no one could afford to break the chain. Otherwise, you'd be an outcast—a loner for life.

You were either born talented or not; there was no in-between. Jisung hoped he was perceived as talented, but that wasn't his choice to make. It wasn't up to him to decide his future; it was all in the hands of the adults.

His grades were mediocre. Not spectacular nor horrible. Just average. That's all he was.

✧

It was around mid-morning, not a particularly pleasant day. The sky was a swirly haze of gray and green; there were only a few clouds in the sky, their jagged edges driving the slowly fading sun further into seclusion.

Jisung sat outside of the elementary school, and the rest of his class spread out across the field. He had art that period, his favorite yet least favorite class. Jisung believed art was enjoyable when you had creative freedom, not when you were confined to drawing specific things.

Their art teacher had decided the most viable thing to do that morning was to "observe and capture the emotions of children at school." When he first heard the idea, Jisung had to hold back a scoff. If their teacher wanted to know the true emotions of children at school, he could've looked at Jisung's face; that spoke volumes.

Jisung silently watched the kids play; since he was there, he might as well make use of his time. Some were digging for ants in the sandboxes, others racing each other across the blue monkey bars. Had he ever been able to do that? Jisung eyed them, swallowing down the envious sensation that was bubbling up his throat.

The girls in his class had claimed the picnic table to his left, lounging about as their sketchbook pages remained empty. They were deep in discussion, and Jisung, despite knowing how intrusive he was being, couldn't help eavesdropping on their conversation. It was hardly his fault that they was conversing about secrets so loudly; who could resist listening in?

"So you did go out with him!"

Jisung exhaled deeply, losing interest almost immediately. He directed his attention back to his sketchbook, tuning out as much noise as he could.

"Jackson Wang?" Jisung peered over at the picnic table. How funny that their teacher had joined the girls' conversation. They seemed caught off guard by his sudden intrusion, his presence making them painfully aware of how loud they were talking.

Mr. Ogawa, their art teacher, had some sort of foreboding aura that made Jisung uncomfortable whenever he saw him; the boy couldn't quite put his finger on why. It might've been the rumor he heard from one of his classmates that a few years ago, he'd slept with one of his students.

There were quite a few adults who gave off predatorial energy, and Jisung seemed to attract the majority of them, just his luck.

Jisung was so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed his teacher had been talking to him until he felt a hand on his thigh. Immediately, Jisung tensed.

"What do we have here?" Mr. Ogawa stretched out his hands, trying to snag a peek at Jisung's sketchbook. Almost automatically, Jisung yanked the it from the man's grip, clutching the sketchbook to his chest.

Mr. Ogawa looked down at Jisung, his lips in a passive, aggressive smile, trying to tug at the sketchbook once more, unwilling to give up.

Why does he need to see my drawing...?