𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙 - 𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔

Yes, I'm fine.

"HEY!! That's my bag, leave me alone you stupid bastards!"

Hongjoong tightens his grip on his precious leather bag, trying at least to save his work, probably at the expense of his dignity.

He'll beg them if he has to.

It won't be his first time, nor his last.

"Guys, hold her back, I'm sick of seeing a poor little girl fight."

"I already told you, I'm a fucking boy, if you're so bothered by dicks, cut yours off."

Hongjoong soon find himself thrown to the ground, two guys holding him with amused smiles and vicious eyes, like hyenas ready to attack.

One of them spits on his face, and Hongjoong restrains the urge to vomit, his stomach coiling in the pit of his abdomen.

"Are you sure you're a boy? Ahh yes, you couldn't eat this badly without looking like a whale if you had a pussy.

And don't pretend you don't like getting wet, you must love it with all the dicks you're sucking, uh?"

The poor boy tries to fight and get up, to protest, to yell at them for being just plain stupid and mean, but this time force definitely wins over willpower, much to Hongjoong's disappointment.

"Take away his robot thing, we don't need a fake cyborg in this school. You're useless, just a sicko who wants to contaminate us.

If you don't kill yourself we might just do it ourselves, for our sakes."

With these words, one of the guy holding him down tore the sleeve of his sweater, the fabric ripping agonizingly slowly, with a long sound that seemed to last forever in Hongjoong's ears. Even the ringing of the threat isn't that deafening.

And of course it had to be his favorite one.

Then he tore the device? from his skin without mercy, and the harshness of the act brought tears to Hongjoong's eyes. Because that's hurt like fucking hell.

His skin is red and burning from the object's strong glue, and while the three of them are busy disposing of it in the nearest trash, Hongjoong takes the opportunity to gather his belongings and run off to the infirmary, clutching his bag as tightly as he can while holding back his tears.

Fortunately, he doesn't knock anyone out in his haste and makes it safely to the school nurse who, seeing the student's condition, lets him in with a forehead creased in worry.

She's getting used to it, it's almost becoming a habit for Hongjoong to barge into the room like this.

"Hello Hongjoong, what happened this time? Why is your sweater all torn up?"

"Some guy ripped my omnipod off, that's why I'm here, I need a new one."

The nurse watches sadly as Hongjoong simply opens his closet without speaking, angrily rummaging through his things to grab what he needs.

Sometimes dealing with his illness is the last thing he wants.

And it sucks, because it's always at the worst possible moment that this pest comes to say hello.

As Hongjoong waits for the omnipod to be activated, someone else enters the infirmary looking like a wreck, like the world has just collapsed on his not-so-small shoulders.

"Oh uhm- hello."

The stranger greets Hongjoong shyly, cheeks flushed, and he looks anxiously toward the side room, where the rest room is.

"Go ahead, you can get some sleep Seonghwa, I'll come to talk to you in a few, okay?"

So it's Seonghwa, the history teacher's son.

Hongjoong stares at the door behind which Seonghwa has disappeared, until he snaps out of his trance when the small device in front of him beeps.

Fucking finally.

Without thinking, he sticks it to his arm, and a moment later, a click is heard as the cannula inserts itself into his flesh.

He grits his teeth as the pain spreads through his limb like poison, this is definitely not his day.

He feels like crying, the pain is strong today.

But he just breath deeply and starts putting his things away, still as angry as before.

He'll have to live with it anyway, so what's the point in crying?

Hongjoong grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder, avoiding his suffering, half-paralyzed right arm.

The cannula must have stuck close to a nerve. This thing is worse than Russian roulette.

The nurse writes a note to Hongjoong because he's already late, and the student rushes through the school corridors to reach his classroom before he misses too much.

If he could avoid missing too much of the lesson that would be good.

He knocks and waits for an answer, chewing his lips nervously, and a few seconds later a shouted 'come in!' is heard.

The brown haired boy slips discreetly inside and heads straight for the teacher's desk to hand her the note.

Even though everyone is staring at him, Hongjoong feels compelled to be silent.

Fortunately, the teacher is literally an angel and even suggests that Hongjoong go back to the infirmary for the rest of the hour since they're just going to watch a movie.

Under other circumstances, he would have refused, but his arm is so sore he'd like to be able to cuts it.

This shit hurts sometimes.

With a deep bow, he leaves the classroom and drags his feet to the infirmary for the second time that day, waiting for the nurse to answer before letting himself in with a sigh.

"It's me again, Miss Kang suggested I rest this hour."

Hongjoong quietly joins Seonghwa in the room and lay down in the empty bed next to his, exhaling deeply as he closes his eyes.

What a day. And it's only 8:21 am.

He hears Seonghwa stirring in the sheets beside him, and he's pretty sure the boy has turned to look at him.

He can feel his eyes on his skin.

"Are you okay?"

When the voice rises next to him, Hongjoong opens his eyes and turns his head to look at the other bed, and indeed Seonghwa is already facing him.

"Yes, I'm fine. It's... nothing unusual."

"Just because it's usual doesn't mean it's normal. You look upset and in pain."

"The illness just sucks, I'm going to live with it forever, there's no point in complaining. There's worse anyway."

Seonghwa hums and silence falls over the two like a blanket, the dim light in the room allowing Hongjoong to rest without falling asleep.

Unlike Seonghwa, who begins to snore softly, small, exhausted breaths that seem anything but natural to Hongjoong.

He stares at the ceiling and counts endlessly its imperfections, all the cracks and stains that have adorned it over the years.

After 30 minutes, Seonghwa shuffles repetitivly into his bed and his breathing becomes lighter– he's surely awake.

It's Hongjoong's turn to looks towards his temporary roommate, curiously scanning the pile his body forms on the bed.

"And you, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

They both know this is far from the truth, but they let it slide as if nothing had happened.

Because maybe for Seonghwa, it's 'nothing', just like it is for Hongjoong.