Who is the Girl in those Drawings? 【LOOKISM X READER】

dg's memory #10 - That I am.

Seoul was big. It was vast and dense and filled with people. Your school was the same. Classrooms galore and a thousand students— some nasty, some nice— were something you were used to every day you attended. The beige-brown school uniform with its structured, steam-pressed blazer adorned with a mighty school crest was the staple of your tiny wardrobe, kept in between an old hoodie and pair of embroidered summer shorts. But it wasn't always this way.

Springtime was when you moved. A new school year. An encouraging pat on the head from your father as he spoke of 'new beginnings' and a 'backdrop of floating cherry blossoms to accompany the bright picture of youth' as the final box of ornaments was placed in your new bedroom from the moving van.

Except it didn't feel anything like a beginning, only the end, and the cherry blossoms didn't fly, but they fell with an almighty yet silent thud, the pink petals bruised. An early bloom had caused the pretty, pink petals to swirl prematurely and hit the ground in a colourful, muddy slush that squelched with each step of your matte-leather school shoes as you trudged onto school for the first time.

Your stomach was tight, anxiety wracking your body as you sucked your teeth to prevent an anxious nausea from taking over your entire frame. Your fingers curled around the freshly ironed blazer's front, causing it to wrinkle in an uneven place. But the school gates were in sight. You debated turning back. It would only be a short walk. Though it was later assumed fate would have different ideas.

You closed your eyes as your steps began to widen, reaching under a tall arch into the schoolyard. You then opened your eyes, searching around. You'd left your glasses at home, now wearing some contact lenses you'd found at the bottom of a toiletry bag, and that poked your eyes incessantly. But you could see. And you could see many things. Best friends with girly backpacks and matching keychains hanging from the zippers of their bags. Boys with buzz cut hair and uniforms so baggy you could only imagine their doting mothers saying 'you'll grow into them' when they protested the size of their jackets and trousers. And you saw him.

Head down and gazing at the floor, his, shaggy, wavy hair in his eyes which caused him to blink as he took long-legged steps past groups of fresh faced students with their ties too tight. The boy's left cheek puffed out slightly, hiding a sweet lollipop behind as its stick rested on his sticky lips. He seemed cool. Cool enough to make your brain almost not register the loud school bell that meant the start of the first day and the new term.

—

The day droned on, in which you heard the bell twice again— one signalling the end of lesson and start of lunch, and the next signalling the end of lunch and start of lesson. The second bell you cursed, just as you bit into the small dessert that came with your school meal on its stainless steel lunch tray. You groaned silently, scuffing your inside-appropriate shoes together as your hands fiddled to pick up the cutlery and place them on the lunch tray. Though you smirked as you finished off the small dessert when walking to class. You would have gotten lost, if it wasn't for the unwarranted help of a large group of rowdy boys.

"Oi, oi!" One calls in his annoying, frog-like voice, his voice cracking as teenaged voices do.

"Which middle school did you you go to?" Another one yaps, like a tiny, naughty Pomeranian. Their premium brand sneakers squeak against the shiny hardwood of the school hallway, and their school trousers crease with their leering movements. "Oh, wait! It's gotta be far. Out of Seoul. Country bumpkin!" The first jeers.

"Yeah, she's from the country. Look at those freckles!" Another snickers. They seem to close in on you like some predatory sea animal to a lone sardine. "And that hair, too! Look at it, sun-bleached, surely? Do you spend your summers working on fields, miss?" It snorts, seeming to laugh at his own pathetic joke. "Where's your humble abode?"

Your mouth opens. No noise. Not a single word.

"Just a few miles away." You mutter, after taking a deep breath. Your foot taps nervously. You would never give them the satisfaction of your mortification.

One of the delinquents' eyes flit toward the keychain of your backpack. A small souvenir keychain dangles from it, the plastic seeming to droop with the judging gaze. It was a gift from your parents as you left the convenience store you had stopped at for a rest on your four-hour road trip to Seoul, found right by the checkout of the store. You now regretted even accepting the gift.

"And why would a person who's residence is only a mere few miles away from here purchase a souvenir? To remind them of the place you've lived your whole life?" He asks once more. A sneer graces his chapped lips. "That's from the convenience store near the motorway, isn't it?" He snickers, leaning against a wall where the paint peels like spoiled fruit skin.

"And how would you know that fact? Got a keychain of your own at home?" You look up, to your left side, and her the distinct 'pop' of a confectionary leaving someone's lips.

"Well, no, James. It was merely, I—" The boy stutters.

"Wasn't it you who wrote for summer break homework how you went to visit the family you had in the countryside, where you lived until you were ten and a half? You stood up and announced it in front of the class. It took the teacher twenty minutes to calm you down before you even began the pathetic presentation." The boy who you now know as James speaks. His teeth make a satisfying crunch against the lollipop, breaking it into fragmented pieces.

Though as soon as your gaze turns from James, the boys have already scurried off, their shoes squeaking against the polished floors of the school's corridor. You read the name on James' uniform— the little rectangular tag that sits opposite his Oxford shirt's breast pocket.

"James... Lee?"

"That I am."

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HELLO!

It is very early in the morning as I write this. It is Wednesday and I said I would upload Tuesday. Very sorry!

This is a 'before you met James' chapter! I wanted the chapters to be a bit askew, so it is much like James' memories. You don't really think of memories in chronological order, you remember them at a time when you get a déjà vu feeling.

((Ps. This is a part one of how you met James. It totally wasn't an orchestrated plan by James in an attempt to woo the pretty girl he saw in the school's entrance and courtyard. Hehe...))

(Art is not my own unless specified by me.)

My voice memory notes app is filled with ideas about two minutes long each. I have a lot to get down on paper so I can transfer my ideas into actual readable form. I'm excited for the challenge, and I hope you'll read on! Thank you for reading, and please consider voting...

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