—and if he was dead,
what would i see him as?

OCTOBER 3:
JEON JEONGGUK

==

if asked, he would adamantly propose the train's momentum as the reason for his shaking fingers; in reality, it is the sheer aspect of being late to college that threatens his knees to buckle under (slightly pointless) nervousness.

jeon jeongguk has barely begun his first year of college, and he already sports three tardies on his attendance count.

it would be natural to assume that tardies are simply one of the many ever-going aspects of college, and maybe—just maybe—jeongguk's professor will be able to cut him some slack. this is irrational, of course, and it may just be his own fault, because out of every college he applied to he picked the one with severe contempt towards tardies.

jeongguk is screwed. so no, it is not the subway's momentum that causes him to shake.

he debates skipping classes today entirely and using the excuse of a sudden cold—despite it being the beginning of october—, since it sounds a little more convincing to forgive than simply waking up too late. the idea is preposterous, but jeongguk seriously considers it; the subway halts as it comes to the stop before his college, and he decides to spend the next five minutes weighing the pros and cons like the responsible nineteen-year-old he is.

(he doesn't; he ends up being distracted by a sudden mob of people boarding the electronic train, and he feels too claustrophobic to logically think—so he says.)

there is one particular passenger that catches his eye, though—and it isn't exactly for a good reason. there's a teenager, possibly
around his age, with hollowed cheeks and sickly skin, stringy brown hair, and a worn down white shirt. the boy drums his fingers against the pole and darts his eyes around.

jeongguk blinks and finds himself staring. damn, homeless this early? what a shame.

as if on cue, the teenager's head turns to him at the speed of a bullet train, eyes wide and bloodshot. no other passengers seem to pay heed to him, but jeongguk expects just as much. he hasn't quite gotten accustomed to the city yet, much less its beggars.

the boy keeps staring, lips chapped and bleeding. jeongguk swallows and raises a stiff hand, waving the slightest, as he keeps his eyes anywhere but the guy five feet away from him.

the teenager turns completely around, stands still for two seconds, and turns back to face jeongguk with eyes somehow wider than before. when jeongguk raises an eyebrow and waves again, the guy inhales sharply and latches onto the pole.

and then he grins. wide, in a square-shaped smile, and jeongguk spots crevices between his teeth that leak blood. he furrows his eyebrows in discomfort, turning his head to those around him. christ, the people here are crazy, jeongguk thinks, and he buries his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

when jeongguk manages to try and face the teenager again, he can't spot him anywhere. there is, however, an opened door from his own subway cart to the one in front of them.

==

jeongguk finally does decide to go to school, but he immediately regrets it upon receiving one of the biggest lectures he's ever heard. the rest of his day is spent in complete silence from his classmates, and jeongguk sighs.

after classes, he decides to treat himself to a cup of coffee (only because his food card permits it; he's the last one to be mindlessly wasting his limited money on caffeinated drinks which, ironically, don't even appeal to his tastes). he's fairly new to the city, so he knows few shops. but one café in particular really supports his wallet—and it's near campus.

jeongguk enters the shop with an abrupt yawn, wiping his eyes with stiff fingers. checking the menu on the wall with squinting eyes from the outside sun, he feels his demeanor go slightly sour. my god, i'm seriously broke. maybe i should start getting a job?

hypothetically, of course, it seems like a rational idea; but jeongguk knows he barely has enough time for college work to get a job. he knows other students are capable of juggling the workload, but he just isn't one of those kids; the only reason he's even able to afford his run-down apartment is due to family ties with the owner.

after quickly ordering some random coffee with a flavor that's on sale (disgusting, but he needs a caffeine source other than the countless energy drinks back in his mini fridge), jeongguk collapses into the leather booth next to the window and exhales lightly. he takes out his notebook and begins to work on his essay for business.

out of instinct, he raises his eyes to the t.v. screen hooked to the maroon, plastered wall, pencil drumming against the thin paper. his eyebrows furrow in confusion upon reading the caption slowly moving across the bottom of the screen.

"SUBWAY 301: EXPLODED FROM UNFATHOMABLE CIRCUMSTANCES"

jeongguk's mouth gapes as he stares longer, brain slowly processing the words. subway 301? that's...that's my subway, are they sure, i was literally just on it three hours ago—

he stifles a choke as footage of the scene plays on the flat screen, eyes bulging almost comically—though there's nothing, absolutely nothing funny about the news playing. it's neutrally colored with lagging frames, but jeongguk knows exactly what's going on; and he sees someone he wishes he hadn't exit the subway cart before it explodes into flames.

"the homeless kid," he breathes silently.

granted, the footage is blurry, but jeongguk can distinctly make out the fuzzy winter cap on his head, the billowing white shirt against the guy's thin frame, his bare feet flush against the dark concrete. as if in slow motion, the teenager gradually turns his head up to the security camera, takes a few steps, and halts.

then, he smiles. and the train cart explodes.

the footage concludes, leaving jeongguk with a dry tongue and acidic stomach, on the verge of feeling sick. "twelve casualties," he mouths, reading the headlines with wide eyes. "but only one cart exploded...?"

he furrows his eyebrows in contemplation. did they catch the person who did it? the guy in the footage looked fucking shady. no one can ignore that.

jeongguk's hands fidget nervously in his lap, and in moments he's rushing to the bar-side counter and rapidly pressing the metal bell. an irritated-looking woman addresses him with a cocked eyebrow at his frantic gestures.

"can i help—"

"hey, listen. you see that kid?" jeongguk points to the t.v. screen as the footage replays, swallowing audibly. "see that guy with the, the weird hat on his head? see, see, he's right here, can't you see—"

"sir, i have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." the barista places her hands on her hips, letting out a minuscule sigh. "are you talking about the news—"

"yes, i'm talking about the news! okay, you see that guy? have you ever seen him around? does he—does he go here often, or—"

"sir. sir! i'm sorry, but which guy are you talking about?"

in exasperation paired with impatience, jeongguk slams a hand on the counter and points to the t.v. screen forcefully. "right! there! he's literally so close to the screen! how do you not see him?!"

the woman grits her teeth. "listen sir, if you've got a problem with something in the news, i can't address that. i genuinely can't see a single man in a hat on that television screen."

jeongguk swallows shakily and turns back to face the television screen. the homeless guy—who, for all he knows, may not even be homeless—flashes his rectangular-shaped grin again, and almost like a movie, the train explodes. again. and again. and again.

with a small voice, jeongguk faces the barista again and whispers, "so...so you never saw that guy with the hat on the news? never? not once?"

the woman shrugs and begins to wipe the counter. "i'm sorry, sir, but i don't know what you're talking about."

jeongguk takes a shaky step back, stomach uneasier than ever before. he rakes his pale fingers through sweaty locks of dark hair and chews his lip.

and christ, he knows he's fucked.

==

wot kind of shit writing...
dw i hate exposition too but
anyway thanks for reading!!!