fever | ateez lore story

| the delinquent |

diary
/ˈdʌɪəri/
noun
1. a book in which one keeps a daily record of events and experiences.
"my life was like a diary. Like someone who was hurt so badly wrote it, and I was the only one to understand."

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

You know how they say people are scarier than ghosts? Never thought I'd be one to believe in that, but after countless, terrible encounters with many people this motto sticks to the back of my head like glue.

That's why I never mix with them. I found it best to avoid what you hate. People have never shown me kindness, or loyalty. They're severe, the more that come. There are no boundaries to a human being, so people think it's okay to be an asshole and get way with it. There is no proper solution to this issue, so mine is to avoid people, completely. If it means if I have fight against them, so be it.

Call me a hooligan. You're no better than I am.

I'd rather be alone than encounter the world. I'm always alone anyway.

---

"You'll be good today, Mingi, right? I don't want another phone call. If I end up with one, you know what's gonna happen." My father says, not even showing me any attention. His face stays hidden behind the newspaper stationed in his hands, the sound of his voice mixing with the rattling of the pages.

I stare at an article of an American woman giving a speech. The bold letters above her head read 'This generation is a false-hope to a better future.' Her complaint is summarised in tiny, black ink, going on about how "this generation" never treats anyone fairly, and how they are never able to sustain any sort of respect.

Couldn't agree more with her, to be very honest.

I sigh as I stick my earbuds in, the sounds of the outside world beginning to fade. Suddenly, I'm on my own again. Just the way it should be.

The font door moans as I open and close it shut behind me, taking my time to leave the premises of my house and on my way to school, feeling reluctant to deal with anybody right now.

My eyes stay glued to the ground, watching as my feet kick a crushed-up beer can like a football. I can barely hear the noise it makes, the volume of earbuds turned all the way up to drown out the world.

The beats rattle in my ear, shaking my brain in all the right ways. The melody being sung is mesmerising, unlike anything I have heard before. Only super-humans and masterminds can create such music, as the production needs some form of magic. It is not easy producing music, and its fairly evident in the way the music flows through my ears and brings a shiver up my spine.

Why can't people be as beautifully simple?

-"Mingi!"

What was that? It's incredibly muffled, but the fact I can hear it means it's just in front of me.

-"Oi, Song Mingi!"

I remove an earbud, focusing my attention on two idiots approaching me. I've dealt with these two before, but clearly my warning to them was not enough to leave me alone.

"Heard you messed around with Min-J the other day. That's not very nice of you now, is it?" The shorter one starts, poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek. Their way of looking intimidating is terribly cute, but they forget I can step on them like a bug.

"Min-J didn't respect my wishes, so why should I respect his? You two are no better by bothering me so early in the damn morning. Do me a big fat favour and piss off, eh?" I bite, scratching the base of my neck to ward off the temper kicking in. They rolls their eyes, laughing at me.

Unbelievable.

"Big, lonely giant looking for another scrap? This is why you're a damned hooligan, Song." The one with the six-head spits.

I hate that word.

That's it.

I breathy exhale leaves my lips in anger as I close my eyes and push the earbud back into my ear, pulling out my phone and scrolling through my playlist. A 1-minute rock extract catches my attention, and I press on it immediately. The wave-riding cadence of R&B beats switch to an earth-shaking drumming barrage, accompanied by the vexed yelling of the electric guitar. My body responds with hostility, and I look up at the two fools before me through my eyelids, their tough appearances moulding into pure panic.

---

They crash to the ground, the impact making the soil-coloured locks of hair on their head bounce. They clamber backwards in a stupid effort to escape my next move.

"You're good for nothing, Song. This is why you have no friends! Why your depressed-ass is alone all the damn time!" the short one throws at me, and it ticks me off big time.

I bend down and and grab the collar of his shirt, wrinkling the material between my fingers as his mate watches it unfold.

"Song, stop! We're sorry, okay? W-we'll leave you alone!" He begs, violently rubbing the palms of his hands together in a sorrowful attempt for mercy. I ignore him, too aroused with wrath to pay him any attention.

"What'd you fucking say to me?" I beg the shorty to reiterate. If he has any balls, he'll take another fist to the mouth. He hesitates under my grip until he huffs a chest full of air and responds with sick attitude.

-"This is why you're a good-for-nothing piece of shit!"

I haul back my other hand that balls a fist, adrenaline rushing through me to rain down a thunderstorm of blows to him, my anger way past it's limit.

"Song, stop!" I hear the other yell.

A yelp from the shorter is heard as my fist begins its journey down, but it's stopped in its tracks as a a pink speckle of nature lands on his face, dragging across the bleeding cut that runs across his cheekbone. It's bright colour becomes apparent as more and more of those speckles appear in front of me. That's when I realise spring's plea for me to calm down. The cherry blossoms congregate around me, running across the skin at the back of my hand.

Like it wants me to stop.