THE8 | Junhao

ONE

| CHAPTER ONE |

Ignore.

Ignore, ignore, ignore.

That's all he had to do.

Picking the loose strand on his uniform, he leans with his head down. His back was hunched, and so was his patience.

Every day was a bad day, so he didn't have the energy to call today one.

Maybe he just hated school, or maybe he was tired, exhausted even.

Looking around the classroom, his eyes wandered amongst the students.

They were talking, most of them, and he felt out of place. He always did.

He didn't have friends, not one.

He was alone, and something stirred in his chest at that thought.

He didn't know what the feeling was...

Was it maybe sadness? Loneliness? Want? Desire for attention? Just a slip of hope for at least a nice conversation instead of an argument?

He didn't know what he wanted, what he deserved.

So, when his sketchbook is purposely slid off his desk, his pencil case slipping after it, he isn't sure how he feels. The laughing that follows as well was ludicrous, and his ears suddenly throb.

"Whoops, sorry about that." There's a fake pout plastered on the face in front of him, but he sits still, face mixed with emotions, "I didn't see you there, my apologies." It's so sarcastic it hurts.

The boy walks past him, only to pause seconds after the first step. "C'mon, Myungho." That stupid pout is back, "Aren't you gonna pick that up? It's rude to make a mess, don't you know?"

Minghao breathes deeply, closing his eyes.

He doesn't even remember it, but he finds himself on his knees in a blink, nails scratching along the floor as he hurriedly picks up his erasers and pens, slipping them back in his pouch.

"Look at him." The tone sounds amused above him, "He looks like a dog, on all fours, scratching at the floor like an animal." A chuckle, "Dirty."

"Oh, c'mon San, don't be rude."

Minghao closes his eyes, taking a breath.

He's back on his feet in seconds, back to the friend group behind him.

He hesitates before turning around, muttering an apology under his breath, "Sorry about that." He bows a bit, "That was clumsy of me. I'll be more careful next time."

He takes a seat before san can respond, choosing to not get clamped up into another mess... He was always the one who wound up in trouble at the end of the day anyways, so what was the point of fighting?

He flips through the pages of his sketchbook after thinking for a moment, the paper soft against his fingertips.

He picks up a pencil, dragging the led.

He finds piece in anything related to art, he's always called himself an artist. That was the one thing about him he found cool, the one thing he found interesting and attention grabbing.

He's drawn a beautiful flower in just mere moments, eyes sparkling as he stares down at the gray petals.

"Wow," He hears San again. He feels his heart spiral once more, the calm feeling faded, "That's so beautiful, Myungho." The pout is back for a third time, and he feels a hand on the back of his chair, "Didn't know you were this talented."