My Art Teacher | Johnyong

Chapter 1: Punishment

<Taeyong's POV>

"I didn't do anything wrong!" I whined, attempting for the third time to negotiate with Headmaster Kim. He just seemed to have some vendetta against me, calling me into his office so many times over the semester. I squinted at his scowling face, ready to stick out my tongue and storm out at any minute.

"Taeyong" Headmaster Kim turned down to face me, disappointment in his tone, "You've failed every single extra-curricular course in this academy. Home economics, ethics, and technology professors begged me to switch you out of their courses. The only teacher that wasn't completely appalled at your destructive behavior was music, but they showed me your independent project that was full of inappropriate language"

I rolled my eyes. Tell me something I don't know! Bored out of my mind, I looked down, fiddling with a loose thread on my uniform. I heard Headmaster Kim scoff. An abrupt BANG on the table got my attention, as my head shot up to meet his disapproving gaze with a gavel in his hand. Are administration supposed to have those? I rose my brow at him, watching him grab some paperwork from behind him and slide it in front of me.

"Our last extracurricular has agreed to take you on for the rest of the year, but only if you agree to be on your best behavior. No mini explosions or purposely picking fights with other students. If you can't abide by those very minimal requirements, you can no longer attend NCT Academy, got it?" he spoke as he stared at me with an intensely stern expression.

I gulped. Trust me, I hate school with a passion. I often kept to myself with only a couple friends, who I'm sure wouldn't mind if I was kicked out since I see them all the time. But, I knew I'd be consumed with guilt if my mother found out I couldn't make it through high school. She sent me here with hopes of great things. Neo Culture Technology was known as quite an innovative school, with recruiters from various fields coming to hire juniors and seniors on the spot. Because of this, there was an interestingly diverse student body from athletes to nerds of all types with unexpectedly unique skillsets. But, me? I don't have anything to offer this school. And, based on what Headmaster Kim was telling me, every other teacher that I encountered thought the same thing.

After a few moments of my silence, Headmaster Kim sighed. "Look, Taeyong" he spoke quietly with earnest, much gentler than his scolding from a second ago, "Here at NCT, we invest in all our students alike. We would not have admitted you here if you did not have potential"

Can he read my mind suddenly? I glanced up at him, trying to hide my surprise.

When he noticed he had my attention, he continued. "...But it often seems that you are trying to self-sabotage yourself here. Why is that? Is there something going on that is troubling you?" He furrowed his brow at me, and I couldn't help but mirror the frustration. Who is he to make such a claim?

"I just don't care that much about school" I shrugged off his invasive assumption, turning my head to stare out the window. Students during their break between classes were gathering on the basketball court near the back entrance of the school. Two boys in particular seemed to be in quite a heated argument over their game. "GIVE IT BACK DONGHYUCK!!!" A skinny blonde boy shouted at his shorter chestnut-haired companion, holding fists at his side. The shorter boy stuck out his tongue stubbornly, running away with the basketball, making the first boy even more upset. As I became less invested after hearing his annoying cries, I noticed a taller person sneakily swoop in and snatch the basketball from the chestnut hair-colored boy. "Hey!" He yelled loudly, whipping around to be confronted with the broad chest of the taller man. He smirked down at him as he held the ball well above his head, far from either boy's reach.

The tall man was not in uniform, but was dressed in straight-legged jeans and a beige button-up with a pattern on it that looked like my grandma's wallpaper. On his head, where this mischievous look was plastered on his face ever since he got ahold of that basketball, he wore a brown flat cap worn backwards with black hair peeking through. He had paired the outfit with spotless white sneakers and a black satchel. Against the background of male students in those monochrome navy uniforms, he definitely stood out. He displayed a smile to the arguing pair, handing them back their basketball and speaking to them at a normal volume, too far from the window I was gazing from.