"So sick."

"Disgusting."

"She's so ugly."

"You'll never be like us."

"I can't believe you thought he liked you."

"You had that one coming."

"Aw look, she's about to cry."

"Move along you ugly whore."

"Look, her shoulders are too broad for a girl."

"Ew, her stomach isn't even flat."

You run as fast as you can. You can't take it anymore. All the taunts and jeers follow you out of the classroom and through the empty hallways.

Tears are threatening to spill but you won't let them. You can't. You won't let them see you cry. They can't see you at your weakest.

Your surroundings are a blur of windows and tiles and classrooms.

You run until your lungs burn and you think you've lost all the smirks and insults and left them behind you.

You swing open the door to an old unused classroom and hurry in, then slam the door behind you.

You sink to the floor against the door and let it all come out.

All the tears you've been saving for so long-too long- spill out uncontrollably. Your shoulders create protective walls around your face and your ponytail hangs limp by your neck.

Your collarbones. Your left shoulder. A strip of skin on one side of your stomach. Your thighs. All of those places are areas they cut around. Your clothes are torn and cut and useless now.

You finally let out a loud sob. You can't hold it in anymore. It's an ugly sound. You hate yourself for having the ability to create it.

Don't be weak. You tell yourself. Stop crying.

But letting one sound escape you is the last stone holding a dam together and you can't control the wave of emotions that crashes against your wall and destroys everything you have been trying to keep together.

You can't. You can't hold yourself together. You cry hard. Your hands are covered in your tears within seconds. You gasp for breath but can't reach it.

You can't reach a point where you can calm down.

You are beginning to think that you won't come back out of this state. You think that you won't be able to stop crying and you'll be stuck where you are for a long time.

So you just let it all out.

"What the hell did I do wrong?" You scream. And then your head falls to your knees and you stay like that for a long time.

Until finally.

After a long time

You can breathe.

You can breath and your tears aren't coming as fast anymore.

You take a moment to breathe deeply.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Calm down. You think. Calm. Down.

You are so tired. Your head hurts and your eyelids are so heavy.

You lift your head.

And freeze.

There is a boy.

He is sitting on a desk.

A tiny window high up on the wall casts a ray of sunlight behind him that makes it impossible to make out his features.

Silence. That is what passes between the two of you for several long moments before he finally breaks it.

"Do you... need something?"

The awkward comment makes your insides flare up in anger and your chest fill with a bubble of laughter that drives itself through your throat and out of your mouth.

You laugh hysterically because this is funny. It's a joke. The whole thing is a joke. You've kept yourself tough and pent-up all your life and just when you finally let yourself break, god decides that someone should watch you embarrass yourself.

This is humiliating.

"Do me a favor," you say, a hint of venom behind your lighthearted words. "And don't say a word."

The boy puts his hands up. "No need to be so rude," he says. "But if you're feeling better enough to speak to me like that, could you let me have this room back?"

The audacity. You're a mess and you just cried your guts out and this motherf****er has the audacity to say, "I was here first. Get out."

Well, two can play at that game.

You stand up.

"No. I will not leave this room. My face looks disgusting, my school uniform is destroyed, and I have no way to get home. I'm staying as long as I please."

The boy sighs and shakes his head. "Fine. I was finishing up here anyway. I'll just go." He slides off the desk he was sitting on and a cloud of dust stirs up in his absence. He walks to the classroom door and opens it, but before he walks out, you pipe up with a question.

"What were you doing in here anyway?" You ask.

"None of your business."

"Calm down. I was only curious."

The boy turns around and looks at you. He has a round face and soft features. Cat-like eyes and soft lips. His cheeks are smooth and pale and his hair falls in straight black locks over his forehead. He's actually very pretty, and could be more so if not for his attitude.

The boy gestures to the middle of the old classroom, where a piano sits, covered in dust except for a spot on the seat and most of the keys.

You look back at the boy and suddenly feel a little bad for interrupting him. But he isn't looking at your face. He is looking at your torn clothes.

For a moment you think he is looking at your bare skin because he is a hormonal teenage boy with needs. But that is not the case. Instead, to your surprise, the boy takes off his own jacket and hands it to you.

"Return this to me tomorrow."

You stare at him as if he is a talking block of cheese.

"Well? My arm is getting tired. If you don't take it, the floor will."

You blink, close your gaping mouth, and take the jacket from his outstretched arm.

Then he leaves.

You puzzle at the boy's sudden unexpected kindness as the dust settles behind him. Then it occurs to you that you don't know his name. You look down at the jacket and look for the name tag that should be on the chest pocket.

Min Yoongi.

You've never even heard of him.

And now you owe him.

Another fic I've started up :) I don't really have plans for this, as I wrote the chapter out of nowhere a while ago, and there isn't really a description or a lot of tags or a great cover. But I really like this chapter and will definitely work on it if you guys like this too.

Thanks for reading, and have a fantastic day/night! ;)

-L