Dorm Mates || Jeon Jungkook ff

O n e

Chapter one: D o r m m a t e s

I look around the class to see everyone - well mostly everyone fixated on their work.

I hear pens and pencils make contact with paper from everywhere throughout the classroom, whilst watching the top of pens and pencils quiver, each pen and pencil moving at different speeds.

Whilst doing so, I spot the teacher typing on her keyboard, glancing at everyone every once in a while; I make sure to look like I'm working while she does.

When our lesson started, I thought it wouldn't be a big deal, having no idea what to write.

However, for the last half an hour, I've been sitting like a statue observing everyone, in desperate search for ideas and inspirations.

Meanwhile, I study the different variety of pens and pencils people are using; some classmates are using a green ballpoint pen, while others are using standard wooden-looking pencils, in need of constant sharpening every ten minutes.

Anyway, we were told to write a narrative about any story created by us in an hour.

Alas, I'm absolutely atrocious when coming up with ideas.

I guess I would have done the suggested idea the teacher gave us, if the teacher hadn't written her own version of it.

Now, I can't think of a way to top hers.

The teacher included all the descriptions, similes and metaphors she told us to include in our narratives ourselves.

It looks perfect to me, probably because it included a lot of similes and metaphors I didn't know.

Yet, that would only get us a C.

I wish she has mistaken herself.

You see, writing isn't really one of my strongest subjects anyways. It's probably one of my weakest subjects XD.

I always take note of how to do descriptions, metaphors, similes and all that sort of stuff, and I do understand how to use them and when it comes to defining similes and metaphors or using them in an activity based on those areas in English.

Nonetheless, I continuously fail to apply them, unless I was to be given an activity based on what I just learnt.

I find myself staring af a blank page, filled with nothing but faint blue lines, eight millimeters apart, with a double line at around the top of the page.

I distract myself by printing the date at the top right corner as neat as I possibly could, which took a while.

I want to write a title to give me ideas, but I can't [even] think of a title.

Taking a peak at my classmate's work next to me and across from me, I can see they've done a whole page.

I'm never going to get this done, I admit in my mind as a mix of panic and shame covers me like a blanket.

Ten minutes later, I calm down only to panic even more than I had before.

One...two..three people have already finished.

Panic courses through me like electricity running through a circuit.

I stare back at my blank page and frown.

I haven't been able to write anything for forty-five minutes.

Taking one last glance around the classroom, I hunt for any signs of inspiration or ideas.