✓ odds.

one

nothing much usually happened during jihoon's shared apartment with a beanpole twice the size as him. he really doesn't remember how he had met mingyu even, it was probably when jihoon had mistook him as a tree rather than a human in the school halls when jihoon was fifteen years old, five years of friendship makes his head hurt.

"jihoon-ah! i'm going out to buy groceries, behave yourself and do not make a mess, i just vacuumed the floor okay?!" mingyu yelled through the shared apartment, opening the door as jihoon heard the door closing due to gravity.
he sighed, his fingers still hovering over the keyboard of his laptop as he ruffled his hair. tapping on the keys and creating a long sentence of a bunch of random keys.

his eyes glancing towards the blinding screen in front of him and noticed the very weird long repeated letters that managed to make a whole paragraph for himself to groan and delete afterwards.
school is always boring to the boy honestly; the only thing that made him go through the day during school was the recording rooms located in the performing arts section of the school.

he enjoyed watching the teacher going by the name bumzu create music with some beats with the help of a computer and a microphone to record his lyrics. the teacher; bumzu took a liking to jihoon and taught him how to produce his own music.
now he was trying to write an essay about his hobbies, it was unsettling to him that the teachers really wanted to learn every single fucking thing about his students like a maniac.

some students didn't mind the sudden essay since they knew mr. kim very well, always making random essays and assignments to understand his students more like his friends than the student-teacher relationship. the teacher was all right to jihoon but some students dislike english that they always plan to skip; they don't really know that the teacher knew their plans and always marked them absent during his classes early even before calling out the attendance.

his phone buzzed with a message, signaling that it was either his parents or his very annoying friends that annoy him every second they get. he opened the rectangle device, pressing on his messages and just like he mentioned, it was his friends.
just jeonghan mentioning jun's little crush on the new chinese student in their school, and also exposing some pictures of mingyu's outing with a glasses boy going by the name wonwoo.

he was honestly too tired for their crap and turned off the device, his fingers still pressing on random letters and creating mushed-up words that even himself couldn't read the outcome of the text. was the world going too fast for him or was he just tired from all those nights surviving on coffee and energy drinks day-by-day? was it just his bad-luck or was it just the world hated him for no reason at all?

• • •

kwon soonyoung brought himself into the practicing studios himself, slipping off the jacket that warmed him when he was outside in the cold. the door clicked close as soonyoung connected his phone to the speaker and blasting a tone almost too familiar to him.
his feet taking steps and his body feeling himself in the music that rang through his ears, blocking all the stress that clouded his mind.

dancing was his escape from reality, to clear his mind from all the hurtful things that would be thrown at him day-by-day from students and his father.
sure, he was talkative hamster slash tiger that called himself hoshi, but people really looked over the fact he was a human with feelings. insults by his friends were really not a mind because it took him to walk down memory lane with his past self, reflecting on how much he had grown through the years of high school.

but insults from complete strangers scared him, it reminded him of his drunk father back home.
his mind bombing the once peaceful mind with words that inflect pain to himself, mental pain.

most people tell him to walk away from the fact he had a mental illness that could take his own life away from him, it's like he's able to walk away from a bleeding hand like he would walk away and stomp on his illness like it's nothing.

his friends described him as an odd-ball due to his loud spoken self that had no problem screaming random "naega hosh!" like a complete maniac.

he probably already called himself an odd-ball never to be fixed.

— 🎶 AUTHOR'S NOTES
finally, publishing a new book feels so nice, have fun enjoying this little story i managed to pull out of my head.

there is no updating schedule, and there will be slow updates as i plan to make sure this book makes it long and detailed.
happy reading~
and don't forget to vote my growing flowers!