the color of quiet | hyunjin h.

1 : the loner

» [ drifting ] «
khamari
0:58 ─〇───── 2:31
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

God, I hate Mondays.

Rolling out of bed at 7 a.m. feels like torture, especially for school. I know I should wake up earlier, maybe actually eat breakfast or have a few moments to myself, but really, who wants that? The thrill of the last possible minute is what gets me going. I glance at the clock as I drag myself out of bed—7:02 a.m. I sigh. Time to rush through the usual routine.

After a quick shower, I throw on my school uniform and make a half-hearted attempt at fixing my hair in the mirror. The uniform—a plain white blouse and a checkered skirt—doesn't exactly offer many ways to express yourself, but I manage with some small details: a few subtle rings, my favorite scrunchie, and a touch of lip gloss that's barely within the school's "acceptable" guidelines. I glance at my reflection one last time before slinging my bag over my shoulder and heading out.

I walk through the school gates at 8:58 a.m., practically on the dot, as usual. The grounds are buzzing with students hustling to their first-period classes, conversations blending into a low, steady hum around me. I slip through the crowded hallways, dodging last-minute lockers slamming and rushed goodbyes as I make my way to biology.

I slide into my usual seat just as the bell rings at 8:59. It's a miracle I make it every day without getting marked tardy. The classroom itself is pretty standard—beige walls covered in faded science posters, and a couple of dusty, ancient-looking plants on the windowsill that I swear are holding on for dear life. I settle into my spot, second row from the back, where I can observe everything but stay under the radar. Same desk, same classmates, same mundane routine. There's something oddly comforting about it.

Mr. Park, our biology teacher, starts droning on, and I do my best to focus, though it's a struggle. Biology itself isn't too bad; it's just Mr. Park's approach that drains every bit of excitement from it. He's got a weird grading system, one that never rounds up—so if you're 0.1 off from an A? Too bad. Plus, he's one of those teachers who just reads off his slides, barely pausing to explain anything in depth. It's like he thinks we'll magically understand mitochondria just by looking at a bullet-point list. I lean back in my seat, feeling my eyes glaze over as he flips to yet another slide about cellular respiration.

Somehow, I make it through the class by sneaking glances at the clock every few minutes, praying for time to move faster. Finally, the bell rings, jolting me back to life. I grab my things and head to my next classes, each one blending into the next. There's really nothing special about most of them—the teachers talk, I take notes, zone out, and sometimes catch a mini-nap if the lecture's dragging on too long.

The only redeeming factor is that I have a few classes with my friends. We don't sit together for all of them, but having them nearby makes things a bit more bearable. We'll shoot each other quick looks or stifle laughs whenever someone says something ridiculous. Honestly, it's those moments that keep me going, small breaks of laughter in an otherwise dreary school day.

By the time lunch rolls around, I'm exhausted but relieved. Lunch is a chance to unwind, talk about anything other than biology, and see my friends without the pressure of a teacher's watchful eye. I head to my locker to drop off my books and grab my wallet, and I'm greeted by my two best friends, Bomi and Jihye. They're already waiting for me, leaning against the lockers, looking like they've been there for hours. Bomi's arms are crossed as she scrolls through her phone, while Jihye, as usual, is watching everyone else, taking it all in with a curious eye.

"Hey, girls! What's up?" I say, shoving my morning textbooks into the cramped locker and reaching for my wallet.

Bomi snorts, not looking up from her phone. "Did you see Mr. Park assigned another lab?"

I groan, rolling my eyes. "Seriously? He hasn't even graded the last one. What's his deal?" I shut my locker door with a little more force than necessary, and Bomi just shakes her head in agreement.

Jihye, always the practical one, shrugs. "Guess he's on a roll. You know he's not going to round up your grade, though, right?"

"Tell me about it. I'll probably be exactly 0.1 away from an A. Again." I shove my wallet into my pocket. "Alright, let's get some food."

The three of us link arms and make our way to the cafeteria. As we walk, we're caught up in our usual chatter, occasionally greeting people we know as we pass. We're not a "popular" clique or anything, but we've got our group and a decent amount of people know us. I guess we're friendly enough to stay in the loop without being in everyone's business. It's nice.

The cafeteria is already packed, as it always is by this time. Students are everywhere, clustered at tables, in lines, or huddled in groups near the vending machines. The noise level is intense—a steady roar of conversations, laughter, and the clatter of trays. Luckily, our usual table by the window is still empty. I rush over to claim it, giving a quick wave to Jihye and Bomi as they head toward the lunch line.

I pull out my phone to pass the time, scrolling through social media and occasionally liking a few posts. The temptation to go to every party is real, but my grades could definitely use some love. I sigh, glancing over my current grades. Decent, but I know they could be better if I just focused a little more. Maybe this weekend I'll skip out on the next get-together, even if Jihye and Bomi beg me to come.

As I'm scrolling, I feel someone's eyes on me. Looking up, I see Yuna, a classmate from my math class, waving at me with a big smile.

"Oh, hey Yuna! How's it going?" I smile back, gesturing for her to join me.

She sits down, balancing her tray. "Just got out of Mr. Donghae's English class. He assigned us this weird project."

"Ugh, what now?" I ask, curious but already dreading what it might be.

"He paired us up for some story project, and we have to write something using random words he assigned us. Extra credit if it's 'creative,' whatever that means." Yuna rolls her eyes, stabbing at her salad.

I laugh, imagining the potential chaos. "Sounds like a free-for-all."

"Yeah, but my partner barely said a word. Not sure how that's gonna go." She looks around the cafeteria, as if hoping her mysterious partner will suddenly show up, brimming with ideas.

"Good luck. Hopefully I get someone decent. I'd hate to be stuck doing the whole thing alone."

Yuna glances toward her table and waves her hand. "Well, my group's calling. See you later!"

I wave her off just as Jihye and Bomi finally make it out of the food line, trays stacked high. I stand up to help them, noticing how Bomi looks like she's seconds away from dropping her tray.

"Thanks," she says, passing me my tray with a grin.

As we walk back to our table, someone bumps into my shoulder. I turn quickly. "Oh, sorry—"

The person doesn't respond, just dips his head down, his hoodie pulled low, and quickly walks away. I watch him retreat toward the door, intrigued.

Bomi sighs, rolling her eyes. "There goes the loner."

I raise my eyebrows. "That's him?"

She nods. "Yep. Hood up, always by himself, tall as anything. The guy barely speaks to anyone."

I try to catch one last glimpse as he leaves the cafeteria. Rumors about him have spread through the school like wildfire. Some people say he's got a death glare, that he's rude, and that he avoids everyone on purpose. I've always thought it sounded exaggerated, but seeing him now, I can't help but be a little curious.

Jihye chimes in as she takes a sip of her soda. "His name's Hwang Hyunjin. One of my classmates mentioned it after the teacher called roll."

The name sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it. "Hwang Hyunjin," I repeat, more to myself. "Wonder what his deal is."