𝙐𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 ❤ (𝙹𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 💜)

12)A New Seat in an Old Room

Jimin's pov

I had always believed in mornings. That they meant a fresh start. A new breath. A reset.

But today, the morning felt like a cruel joke.

The cold tiles of the hospital bathroom numbed my bare feet as I stood at the sink, brushing my teeth with one hand while the other scrolled aimlessly through my phone. No messages. No calls. Not even spam. That silence felt louder than any alarm clock could’ve been.

I looked at my reflection. Puffy eyes. Sleep-deprived face. Hoodie hanging loose over my frame. This wasn’t the boy who had dreams of dancing on big stages and walking out of university with pride. This was the version of me that the world left behind.

I tied my hair back, picked up my backpack, and forced myself to walk. That’s all I’d been doing lately—walking, moving, existing without purpose.

The hospital exit greeted me with early sunshine, but it didn’t warm me. It just reminded me that I was still here, still stuck.

By the time I reached campus, my stomach twisted. I’d been dreading this day. Not because of the work. But because of the people. Because of eyes.

And the whispers.

They started the moment I stepped through the hallway.

“Oh my god, isn’t that Jimin-sunbae?”
“He was supposed to graduate, wasn’t he?”
“Why’s he with the juniors now?”
“I heard he failed.”
“No, I heard it was some drama with a professor. That hot one—Jeon-sunsaengnim.”

I kept my head down, pretending I didn’t hear a thing. My fingers clutched the strap of my bag tighter.

Just make it to the seat. Any seat.

I stepped into the classroom and immediately felt every single stare slice into me. The air changed. It got thicker. Tighter.

No familiar faces. Only wide-eyed juniors with curiosity painted on their expressions like I was some kind of walking campus gossip column.

I slid into the seat in the last row. A corner. Quiet. Alone.

I didn’t want to be seen. I didn’t want to exist right now.

Someone behind me snickered, “Guess even the best trip over their own ego.”

Another added, “Maybe he should write his next thesis on how to piss off a professor and fail in style.”

I heard every word.

But I didn’t turn.

Because what was the point?

They weren’t wrong.

I had messed up. I had lost everything I worked for. And I had fought with the professor who now made my life more difficult than I ever imagined.

I deserved this, didn’t I?

I opened my notebook and stared at the blank page.

It looked like me.

Empty. Directionless.

My pen started to move on its own. Doodles. Scribbles. Anything to make the page less accusing.

I could still hear them laughing behind me.

It burned.

But I stayed still.

Because even though I wanted to scream, to cry, to yell that I wasn’t the person they thought I was… I didn’t have the energy anymore.

I was tired of defending myself.