Love in the Halls [Lee Donghyuck]

Chapter 11: Whispers of Contempt

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The week dragged on, and the atmosphere at school felt increasingly suffocating. Narae noticed it in the way conversations seemed to die when she walked into a room, the way eyes would flicker in her direction before quickly looking away. What had started as a quiet sense of unease was now a fully-blown storm of tension, whispers, and judgment, and Narae found herself at the center of it all.

In the hallway before homeroom, she caught sight of a group of students standing by the lockers, their heads close together in an animated discussion. Narae didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as she walked past, a familiar name caught her attention.

"Did you see how upset Narae looked yesterday?" one girl said, her voice tinged with amusement.

"Yeah, like, why is she so dramatic about it?" another girl replied. "It was just a project. Haechan didn't do anything that bad."

A third voice chimed in, more scornful. "She's probably mad because she didn't get the attention she wanted. Seriously, she's always so serious and uptight. It's like she can't just relax for a second."

The words hit Narae like a physical blow, each one chipping away at the wall she had built around her emotions. She hurried past them, pretending not to hear, her face a blank mask even as her heart clenched with a mixture of anger and hurt.

By the time she reached her locker, her hands were trembling. She struggled with the combination, the simple task suddenly feeling like an insurmountable challenge. Her mind replayed the conversation she had just overheard, the disdain in their voices echoing in her ears. Narae had thought the fallout from the presentation was bad, but this was worse. It wasn't just disappointment in a project gone wrong—it was a direct attack on her character, her personality, everything that made her who she was.

As she stood there, trying to steady her breathing, Haechan approached, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by a hesitant uncertainty. He had tried to talk to her several times since the presentation, but each attempt had been met with cold silence. Today was no different.

"Hey, Narae," Haechan said, his voice softer than usual. "I was thinking we could, you know, go over some of the project notes again. Just to see where things went wrong."

Narae's jaw tightened. She didn't even look up, keeping her eyes fixed on her locker as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Her silence spoke volumes, but Haechan, undeterred, pressed on.

"Look, I know you're mad," he continued, his tone pleading now. "But we can still fix things, right? I mean, maybe the next project—"

"I'm not interested," Narae cut him off, her voice like ice. She finally turned to face him, her eyes flashing with anger. "Just leave me alone, Haechan."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with finality. For a moment, Haechan looked like he wanted to say something else, his mouth opening as if to form words, but then he shut it again. With a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, looking away.

"Fine," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

He turned and walked away, leaving Narae alone at her locker, the sting of his indifference adding to the ache in her chest. She watched him go, a mix of sadness and frustration coursing through her. Part of her wanted to call after him, to demand an explanation, an apology—anything that would show he actually cared. But she held back, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her hurt.

The morning classes passed in a blur, with Narae's focus drifting in and out. She couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on her, the whispers that seemed to follow her wherever she went. At lunch, she picked at her food, the usual chatter in the cafeteria sounding more like a dull roar, every laugh and whisper grating against her nerves.

She made her way to the art room during lunch, hoping to find some semblance of peace. Renjun was there, as he often was, lost in a sketch that sprawled across his notebook. The sight of him, so calm and absorbed, brought a small sense of relief. Renjun was one of the few people she felt she could trust, someone who understood her in ways others didn't.

Narae stood in the doorway for a moment before Renjun noticed her. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, and immediately he could tell something was wrong. He put down his pencil and gestured for her to sit beside him.

"What's going on?" Renjun asked gently. He had always had a way of cutting straight to the heart of the matter, his voice calm and reassuring.

Narae hesitated before speaking, her words tumbling out in a rush once she started. "It's everything, Renjun. The project, Haechan, the way everyone's talking about me now. They think I'm being dramatic for caring about the project. They say I'm uptight and can't relax. I'm just so... tired of it all."

Renjun listened quietly, his expression serious. When she finished, he reached out and placed a hand on her arm, offering a small, reassuring squeeze.

"Narae," he said softly, "you're not being dramatic. You care about your work and you take things seriously—that's not a bad thing. And if people are talking, it's only because they don't understand what it's like to actually put effort into something. It's easier for them to mock what they don't get."

Narae bit her lip, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. "But why does it have to be like this? Why do they care so much about what I do?"

Renjun shrugged slightly, his gaze thoughtful. "Maybe because they see you as a threat. You don't follow their rules, you don't act like them. People get uncomfortable when they can't fit someone into a box. But you don't need to change who you are to fit their expectations."

Narae looked at him, her vision blurring with unshed tears. "I just wish... I wish they'd leave me alone. I'm so tired of feeling like I have to prove myself all the time."

Renjun's expression softened. "You don't have to prove anything to them. Just be yourself, Narae. The people who matter will see you for who you really are. And if Haechan doesn't get that, then it's his loss."

His words, though simple, provided a balm to her wounded heart. Narae took a deep breath, nodding. She still felt the sting of the gossip, the weight of her classmates' judgment, but Renjun's support gave her the strength to hold her head a little higher.

"Thanks, Renjun," she said quietly. "I really needed that."

He smiled, a small, comforting gesture that made the world seem a little less harsh. "Anytime, Narae. Just remember, you're not alone."

As she left the art room, Narae felt a renewed sense of resolve. The whispers and the judgment might not stop, and Haechan's attempts to make things right might continue to fall flat, but she knew she wasn't as isolated as she felt. With friends like Renjun by her side, she could weather the storm, one day at a time.

────୨ৎ────

1177 words