Guilty as Charged

11- Chance

The rest of my weekend went by pretty well, excluding the fact that, my one and only group chat blew my fucking phone up to ashes. Other than that, I spent my weekend by spending the whole two days in the art room.

My dad used to love art. He used to do some drawings here and there. He encouraged me towards art. All I can remember, my first crayon box was what he bought me one shady afternoon.

My grandpa on the other hand was all about gardens and farming. He had all kinds of farms- strawberries, rice, flowers. He even had some cows and goats in the animal farm. Grandpa was down for anything that included farms.

For me, everything requiring hard work and passion is art. Paintings, farms, music, literature, life- everything. For me, art is what represents the artist. Art tells so much about that person. Anything that holds a reason, that holds balance, is art for me.

I've praised art all my life. I don't know why I'm so attached to it. Maybe because it lets me express myself.

I don't know.

I scrolled through the group messages during self- study time in history class. The teacher had to go somewhere; or something, so he let some tenth graders study by themselves.

Yeah, nobody touched the history book today.

Maybe except for my desk partner, Kim Namjoon. At first glance, no one would guess that this boy inherited the IQ of Isaac Newton. I won't be surprised if he found the cure to cancer, even with his stupid sunglasses on.

Not that I cared or anything, I just found it weird.

As I was scrolling through the messages, I kept on re-reading my texts. It's like the person who played the role of Kim Taehyung in the chat is not the real Kim Taehyung.

I was a completely different person when I was talking to them. I even played along their stupid games. I don't know why, but the chat doesn't seem real.

Since when do I care so much? I keep asking myself the question. I become attached to others way too quickly, it's unhealthy.

I chuckled at the texts when Yoongi, Jungkook and I planned on killing Jimin.

To the thought of Jimin, my eyes started looking for him. He was there right where he should be. In his own desk. By now, everyone was at their friends'. Well, I guess some stayed at their own seats. Like me. Mostly because I was lonely.

I wonder what he's doing in his seat all alone.

So I wrote a note to him, crumpled up the paper and threw it at Jimin. It hit his head.

When he looked back, I mouthed the word 'Read' and kinda pointed at the paper.

And he did. I knew what he read.

The fuck r u doing?

He looked back and waved at me to come over to his desk. I shook my head and melted on my chair.

He probably understood that I was trying to say 'Getting up is a pain in the ass', so he wrote something back on the paper and threw it at me.

Can't u txt, lazybug?

No, dont got no data, manhoe

Can u stop calling me tht

Id rather not

Asshole

All our throwing papers at each other probably pissed Namjoon off, because the last time the paper landed on me, Namjoon took it, tore it to pieces and threw the pieces to the trash.