"That night
When the rain was heavy,
I waited for you;
Under that lamppost, still.

I was waiting for the
Moment
When you'll come back to me;
Riding the winds,
The gales.

That evening
When the stars lit
The tenebrous sky,
I waited for you,
Under that lamppost.
I still retain feelings.

I am still waiting for the
Moment
When I'll call you mine, again;
When you'll wrap me in your
Embrace
And say, 'Today was a long day.'
Under that lamppost,
We met."

⊱ ───ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ─── ⊰

The rain was pouring quite heavy, clouding the sun away from the sky but the canopy of the nebulous sorrow, that etched in her, had its own specific weight.

It has been raining for three days and although people would want it to stop, she wished it went on for the eternity.

The aching pain she held in her little heart, seemed to dry off all the beautiful shades on her face, leaving it as pale and gloomy as the sickness that promised death.

Not that her inner self wasn't crumbling at the thought of the war, which had raged up like a tincture of fire in a rampage of dead debris.

Yet the remorseful love she had for him, kept on pouring from her pen, as she wrote her 5th epistle of the day.

The military caravan was going to take posts tomorrow and she had to let her love know, that she is still his.

It hurts her to call herself his, but her heart belongs to him. And she can't help but think of him and his army.

"The night will end, won't it?
You'll be back, won't you?"

⊱ ───ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ─── ⊰

"Excuse me?" I completed my sketch of a girl on her desk on my notebook when a tap on my shoulder pulled my attention.

"Yes?" I questioned back, not knowing the person, to whom the voice belonged, was my new art professor. Being lost in my world of imaginations was my best friend and my worst enemy. I stood up and bowed down, realising how rude it might appear for me to inquire him without any honorifics.

"I'm so sorry, Professor. I... I didn't notice your presence here and heavily apologize for the inconvenience I caused." I apologized to the man with a semi bow.

"It's okay, young man. Show me what had you focused so well." I passed my sketch book to him. He studied the woman's sketch I made with an ink pen, typically my leisure genre.

"Beautiful! Who were you thinking of? This style represents 1950s." Said the professor, admiringly.

"Hmm... I actually don't know whom I drew. This could be any random girl or maybe my mum from when she was young." I responded.

"Great. You're the new admission?"

"Yes, sir."

"Please come to the middle and introduce yourself." With that said, I walked to the centre of the hall. All the eyes in the class, turned towards me, as if I stood there like some celebrity under limelight.

I momentarily stopped to peer at the several faces that scanned me as much as I did. I suddenly felt my hands get sweaty with my social anxiety taking over me. I have never been among crowds. I was homeschooled all my life at Berkeley, in Uncle Lee's old and baronial house. I even did my undergraduate degree as a special admission in the University of California, where I never met anyone but my instructor.

Public speaking was never my thing. I wasn't the nerd of the class, nor the jerk or the popular kid. I was like the typical girl of a Netflix original highschool film. And now that I'm exposed to the whole class of 30 students, with a greater percentage of women, I was running on my nuts.

I bit my lips and felt my breath getting substantially denser with every second. It was starting to feel as if the moment wasn't even flowing and the professor judged my absurdly unconfident behaviour.

"Help me someone." I prayed to the God when I noticed Antonella's friend, Y/n, gesturing me to speak up and encouraging me with her thumbs up.

I took a deep breath and cleared my throat before speaking out,

"Hey there everyone, I'm Jeon Jungkook from Berkeley. I am exhilarated to study in this reputed atmosphere and hope to get homogeneous with everyone here." I concluded my introductory speech as  fits of applause rang in my ears.

"Hey there Jungkook, welcome to our group. We would surely like your artistic companionship, and also hope to be able to have an indistinguishable bond created. I am Min Sanghoon and I will be your instructor for the session." The professor shook hands with me and ushered me back to the seat. The class had already welcomed me and I was grateful to that.

We were asked to fix our canvases on our stands. Everyone had their palettes out and so I arranged my fresh artist tools with an array of flamboyant colours which would soon be ornating whichever piece I paint.

For the first class we were assigned to paint whichever styles we were comfortable at. I noticed how everyone in the class had different specialities. Me being unused to most styles, preferred my surrealism.

Being unable to remember anything well, I was made to combine things to make an imaginary yet creative art. It wasn't until 10th grade that I finally came to know my style of art wasn't some random and impossible thing, but a whole genre itself.

I remember how badly I was bullied for this during the little time I actually went to a physical school. I wasn't Uncle Lee's own son and so he couldn't risk me into any school and changed the mode of affiliation.

I imagined my childhood when I would be sitting in my study room, jolting my pen on the copy to note the express dictation my teacher gave; while young Antonella peeped through the small gap, sir left open on the door.

I wasn't the best student. I was very weak with words and never really liked writing. And then sir was determined to make me one of his best writers. I remember how I was able to imagine stories and everything but not write them up in sentences.

Sir would leave atleast 2 stories for me to write everyday and the Grammar Nazi Antonella would form me sentences for everything that I narrated her.

And my theme for my first art piece was me writing stories with my walking dictionary. Since it's my painting, the whole representation would be done through surrealism.

I ran my pencil over my canvas, making the base of my picture and coated it with my neutral base of pale green. I let it dry and erased the extra line for a second coat, but this time with colours I needed.

It was taking a clock for the second layer to dry and I decided to look at everyone else's face. Maybe I could draw everyone for fun. If only I remember them.

I spotted a girl with curly brown hair, somewhat like Antonella's, but longer and thinner; trying to copy from everyone. She was attempting the same sketch as the girl in blue sweatshirt seated next to her. They were drawing some angel or vampire, which I couldn't understand clearly due to the constant movements the brown haired girl made.

I laughed at her and saw this one guy peeping onto my canvas, which in terms, led a farrago of shocked to scared to angered physiognomic expressions.

"Yah! What are you upto?" I whisper yelled in his ear.

"Oh! Sorry. I just happened to see your painting and thought that girl you drew, with the boy, looks similar to Antonella." He said.

"Antonella? You know her?"

"Absolutely. I mean, who doesn't? She's the assistant director of the Yang Team. Photography and Journalism team from our University."

"Damn! She didn't tell me all these."

"How would she tell you? You're just a newbie here. You don't even know her." He joked. I curved my lips into a smirk.

"I know her longer than you know her. She's legit my sister. And yeah, I did draw her and me from our childhood house in Berkeley." The boy looked at me with his mouth falling wide open. I started laughing at him and grinned at my sudden revelation.

"Oh! By the way, I'm Christopher Bang. You can call me Bang Chan. That's my Hangul name." Said the pale boy with an Aussie accent.

"Hi! I hope you already know me." I smiled at him.

"Yeah, I do. Wanna catch up at the cafeteria today?" He proposed.

"Surely. But I'd prefer looking around the campus a little. I got lost while coming."

"I'll tour you around and maybe, introduce you to my group of friends." He laughed.

"Oh! That would be great. Thanks Chan." He gave me a high-five and got back on his artwork. The bell rang, informing us that the 2 hours of art class was over.

The class packed their stuff for leaving the class one after the other. I did the same and followed the group out of the room. My canvas was quite big, carrying which was a trouble alone. And my bag of supplies was an insult to an injury.

I was just starting to walk down the stairs to find my locker, number 673, when I collided with a girl. She was wearing cheer team's uniform and I assume her to be late for her position.

"I'm so sorry." She picked up my bag and handed it to me.

"It's okay. I hope this canvas frame didn't injure you."

"No, I'm okay."

"Alright then." I had an awkward smile plastered on my lips as I saw her running again. I checked the locker numbers and stopped on mine. The canvas wouldn't fit in but my bag would. I positioned the canvas out and started arranging some of my frequent requirements on the upper rack and placed the bag in the middle.

The lockers weren't as spacious as it used to be in Berkeley but large enough to keep the school necessities. I closed the locker and took out my phone from the first pocket of the backpack. I thought of clicking some photos of the campus for me to draw later.

I took a photograph of everyone around the locker and closed my camera to put it inside my back pocket.

"Hey! Jungkook!" I looked over my shoulders to see Bang Chan waving at me. He ran to me and caught up to lead me in our campus tour.

"Wait a min. My friends are coming." He spoke while panting. We started walking to the cafeteria and spotted a group of students, who appeared to be foreign exchanges.

"Yeah, so meet my group. Hey everyone, this is Jungkook."

"Hey Jungkook, I'm Roseanne from Auckland. You can call me Rosé or Rosie."

"I'm Lee Felix from Australia."

"And we're the Aussie line including me." Said Bang Chan.

"Hey! I'm Mark Lee from Canada."

"And I'm Johnny Seo from Chicago."

"Hello! I'm Lalisa Manoban. You can call me Lisa."

"Hi, I'm BamBam for short. You won't wanna know my full name." Said the boy in orange shirt.

"And Why?" I asked.

"Because Both Ten and I are Thai along with Lisa and Minnie with long ass names."

"Interesting. Please bless me with your full birthnames." I said.

"As you wish. I'm Kunpimook Bhuwakul." Said BamBam.

"I'm Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul. Also known as Ten."

"I'm Nicha Yontararak, Minnie for short." Said the last girl of the group. They were hard names but not exactly forgettable.

"And that's the end of our Thai line. Now we have the korean line." Reported Bang Chan.

"I'm Yugyeom."

"I'm Eunwoo."

"Okay. So we're many?" I asked.

"There are some more in our group. They're in their class. Your sister, Antonella is also a part of the group chat but barely present because of her schedule."

"Wait! You're that cousin Antonella spoke of?" Asked Rosé.

"Yeah." I responded.

"Cool!"

"Okay team, meet you all later. Imma show Jungkook around." Bang Chan paused the gossip.

"Bye!" They waved at us, getting back on their works.

"Oh! Bang Chan, remind Jennie to be early for dance today. She missed it yesterday."

"Kay, Kay!" Bang Chan replied to Lisa as we started touring the campus.

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ

Hey Rosairises!

This chapter was boring, wasn't it?
Don't worry, I also have good chapters prepared.

I'll publish them soon.