blue | lookism x reader [DISCONTINUED]

one

1.the start of a new day

The cars rumbled, their mechanic engines puffing out a mix of carbon monoxide and other noxious gases while the sun beams down; it is too sunny for September, too happy for this quiet street where nothing ever happens.

You walk up the hill and up the roads, up the path to your school, while taking in the scenery. You try your best to take up as much time as possible, you didn't want to be here.

You curse as the sun beams down again, well, it has been the whole time but it's getting constantly warmer but the path is getting shorter or so you tell yourself, air conditioning should be soon.

Your worn soles and sweaty feet are uncomfortable in the sun, but you push yourself, school is near and so is your salvation.

It's 8:51 on this sunny September day, meaning you still had 9 minutes until school starts- a new one which you have the 'honoured' to go to, "a new opportunity" your mum called it, "a golden school"

bleh

In reality, it was just a crappy school with a less than average academic course and it's free-range discipline of its students which, we all know doesn't end well for a public school.

You didn't want to move to Seoul (the move happened a few days ago) you didn't want to be here. You were against the whole idea of moving to Seoul from the get-go, you didn't want to move to a small quiet street in Seoul; you never wanted to be here at all.

I mean, your 17 so your opinion must matter in some way: you never wanted to be here, you never wanted to start a new school, you never wanted to get use to the city life here where the sun would always constantly beam down and the people always obnoxiously loud, you never wanted for this to happen, you were content with your life before and sure, money is tight but why slave over here for only a few more bucks?

And Oh god, you sound like a damn whiny teenager

You were the reason for this move,
the empty mouth to feed.

The time is 8:54 when you arrive by the gate of the school and the gates look clean enough but when you place a closer look, you can tell they're rusting and there's trash all littered around the floors and hidden behind the bushes.

You walk confidently- or as confidently one can walk on a Wednesday morning- and dismiss all the strange faces pointing at you and the small hushed whispers that you know are about you as well. They just couldn't keep it to themselves could they?

You know they're talking about you, the little nods and sneaky pointing which in all honesty isn't sneaky at all. But maybe, just maybe, they're talking about the weather? They're pointing to the sun that's shining so bright it's burning your retinas or the tree behind you that still hasn't died yet. They're not talking about you. You hope.

But, what if?

And oh god, what if they are?

You grip the handles of your bag. Its worn, just like your shoes and old blazer; yeah, you bought a second hand blazer as it was cheaper than a new one and though it feels brand new, the knowledge of it being second hand makes you feel poor, where did all the confidence go?

You grip the handle of your bag so hard your knuckles turn white; the sun and the heat and the people, it's all just becoming too much for you.

You stop.

You breathe.

And then you think.

Where is the office?  just focus on one thing at a time,  there it is.

And so you walk, the sun and the heat and the people are all just blurs now, and all there is is the path to the office.

————

You looked at your reflection in the shiny floor. It's distorted, but your able make out some features, like the unruly messy hair that flopped like cooked spaghetti on your head- its brown, but not a brown that reminds you of the sunny golden planes of a beautiful day, but a dirty brown, the one of dark and messy thoughts.

Your skin is pale, but not because of you natural beauty of whatever, but because of sleepless nights and the lack of willingness for once to step outside for 'fresh air'. And not to mention your poor diet of whatever's in the fridge and cheap snacks.

Your eyes are sunken in their own little respective bags, tucked neatly into your head. They're slightly dull in colour, or just kinda glossy in your opinion, but they're honestly, your favourite feature about yourself.

Your tired and a mess but you don't worry about it, there's no way to change it now- your new classmates are just going to have to deal with your less than satisfactory appearance.

You hesitate when before knocking. If the clocks right, your late by 7 minutes which, is not a very good impression for others but you have more things to worry about right know. You're sure that they'll make an exception for your tardiness today anyway- they should have better directions.

You tap the door twice before heading in. Heads all turn to you and the teacher looks tired, he stops and gestures you over; you feel bad.

"Guys, this is your other transfer student" He points to you.

You're on the podium by front where the teacher usually stands and you have this massive wave of respect for teachers come over you; just how do they do it!?? Your here shitting yourself by this many people looking at you.

They're waiting so you decided to speak, something short and simple will do,

"Hi , my names Y/n L/n. Please take care of me"

You looked at all of them, they all looked right back, silent.

Huh.