Unintentional Love | Shimkongz

First Blood

The next few weeks were a nightmare. Everywhere I went, Kim Gyuvin and his friends seemed to be there, ready to make snide comments or pull pranks. I tried to keep my head down, focusing on my studies and my art, but it was getting harder to ignore them.

One morning, I walked into the school courtyard, my mind occupied with thoughts of my upcoming art project. The school had announced a competition, and I was determined to win. It was a chance to prove myself, to show everyone that I was more than just a rich kid.

As I made my way to my locker, I noticed a crowd gathered around it. My stomach dropped. This can't be good. I pushed through the crowd, my heart pounding in my chest. When I finally saw my locker, my worst fears were confirmed. Spray-painted in bright red were the words "Rich Kid" and "Loser."

Laughter erupted from the crowd, and I felt my face flush with anger and humiliation. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gyuvin and his friends standing nearby, laughing and high-fiving each other.

I couldn't take it anymore. I stormed up to Gyuvin, shoving him hard. "What the fuck is your problem, Gyuvin?"

He stumbled back, more surprised than hurt. "Whoa, chill out, man. It's just a joke."

"A joke?" I shouted, my voice echoing through the courtyard. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Yeah, kinda," he replied, his smirk infuriating me further. His friends snickered, egging him on.

I swung my fist, aiming for that smug grin, but before I could connect, someone grabbed my arm. It was Matthew, my only friend here. "Ricky, don't. He's not worth it."

I pulled my arm free, glaring at Gyuvin. "This isn't over," I spat, turning and walking away. I could hear their laughter following me down the hall.

Matthew caught up with me, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head, my anger still simmering. "No, I'm not okay. This school is a fucking nightmare."

"I know," he said softly. "But you can't let them get to you. They're just trying to get a rise out of you."

"Well, it's working," I muttered, opening my locker and shoving my books inside. "I just want to be left alone."

Matthew sighed, leaning against the locker next to mine. "I get it, Ricky. I do. But you've got to keep your cool. Don't give them the satisfaction of knowing they've gotten under your skin."

I knew he was right, but it was hard to let go of my anger. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "Thanks, Matt."

He nodded, giving me a small smile. "Anytime. Just... try to stay out of trouble, okay?"

"I'll try," I promised, though I wasn't sure how long I could keep that promise.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I kept my head down, avoiding Gyuvin and his friends as much as possible. But the damage was done. The words painted on my locker were like a scar, a constant reminder of how out of place I felt.

That afternoon, I found myself wandering aimlessly through the school, trying to clear my head. I ended up in the art room, my sanctuary. The familiar smell of paint and paper was comforting, and I quickly lost myself in my work.

I was so absorbed in my painting that I didn't hear the door open. It wasn't until I heard a voice behind me that I realized I wasn't alone.

"Hey, rich kid," Gyuvin said, his tone mocking.

I stiffened, not turning around. "What do you want, Gyuvin?"

He sauntered over, leaning against the table next to mine. "Just came to see what you're working on."

I kept my eyes on my painting, refusing to engage. "Leave me alone."

"Why are you always so uptight?" he asked, his voice grating on my nerves. "You need to learn to relax."

I clenched my jaw, my brush stilling on the canvas. "You think this is funny, don't you? Making my life hell?"

He shrugged, unbothered. "It's not personal. You're just... an easy target."

I turned to face him, my anger boiling over. "You don't know anything about me."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh, really? So tell me, rich kid, what's your story?"

I stared at him, incredulous. "Why do you care?"

"Maybe I don't," he said with a smirk. "But I'm curious. You're different from everyone else here."

"Different how?" I asked, my voice laced with sarcasm. "Because I'm Chinese? Because I come from a wealthy family?"

He shrugged again. "Maybe. Or maybe it's because you act like you're better than everyone else."

I felt a pang of guilt at his words, though I wouldn't admit it. "I don't think I'm better than anyone."

"Could have fooled me," he said, pushing off the table and heading for the door. "See you around, rich kid."

As he left, I slumped into my chair, my anger giving way to exhaustion. I didn't understand Gyuvin. One minute he was tormenting me, the next he was... what? Trying to get to know me? I shook my head, focusing back on my painting. I didn't have time for this. I had a competition to win, and I wasn't going to let Gyuvin distract me.

But as I worked, I couldn't shake the feeling that our rivalry was just beginning. And something told me it was going to get a lot worse before it got better.