Chapter Text
I've always been a quiet kid—the kind who prefers to watch from the sidelines and stay silent, even when I probably should say something. I was never the type to show big emotions or feelings, maybe because I don’t really feel them that deeply. I have this rare condition called Alexithymia, and it kind of blocks me from experiencing certain emotions—like love, sadness, anger, or joy.
Ever since I was a baby, my mom took me to all kinds of specialists when she noticed I didn’t react like the other kids. It was weird to her that I didn’t smile or cry in moments that usually made other kids do that. So yeah, I guess I’ve been a bit of a challenge for her since I was really young.
Switching schools and moving cities was always a bit hard, but because of my condition, it had to be done. And this time wasn’t any different. Today, I was heading to yet another new school. The last one wasn’t great—kids kept messing with me, making jokes because of the way I am. It was driving my mom crazy. So, we decided to change schools again, even though it was halfway through the year. That morning, she dropped me off early at the school gate, and while she was saying goodbye, I felt this small wave of anxiety hit me.
As I walked through the school, I realized the vibe was... different. Actually, kind of wild. Loud people everywhere, uniforms customized in ways I didn’t even know were allowed, earrings, tattoos—some of them looked like they didn’t care what anyone thought. Total bad boy/bad girl energy. Looks like it’s going to be a long year.
After enrolling by myself—mom couldn’t come in with me—I was taken by the coordinator to Room 15, which would now be my class. As soon as I walked in, she left, and this woman with long black hair and big brown eyes came up to me, wrapped her arm around my shoulder, and gave the class a little intro.
“Good morning, everyone! We’ve got someone new today. This is Chenle, and he came all the way from China to Busan, and now he’s here with us. Let’s make sure he feels welcomed, okay?” she said in this really sweet voice.
Then she turned to me and asked me to introduce myself.
“Uh… like she said, I’m Chenle. I’m Chinese, I’m 17, and I’ve been living here for about 10 years.”
I heard a few whispers and giggles after I finished, but then the teacher smiled again and said, “Great, Chenle. Welcome. You can sit over there, next to Jaemin.”
As I made my way to the seat, I could feel eyes on me. And in the back of the room, someone was staring—hard. A pair of sharp eyes locked onto mine. I didn’t look back. No need for trouble on the first day.
I sat down, trying to be as invisible as possible. Jaemin, the guy next to me, didn’t say anything, but he looked kind of curious. The teacher kept going, talking about stuff I’d already heard in every school. I rested my head on the desk and closed my eyes, hoping time would go faster. And weirdly, it did. The bell rang, loud and annoying, and everyone rushed out—including Jaemin. I got up slowly, thinking maybe I could grab something to eat or just explore the place a bit.
As I headed for the door, a dirty pair of Vans stepped right in front of me. I looked up—and there he was. Jisung. The same guy who was staring at me earlier in class. His dark brown eyes were drilling into mine, sharp like he could see through me.
“So you’re the new kid,” he said. His voice was low and rough. It wasn’t even a question.
I kept looking at him, trying not to seem nervous. “Yeah, I am,” I said.
He stared at me for a second, then added, “I’m Jisung.”
“Nice to meet you,” I replied, trying to force a smile—just like my mom said I should in moments like this.
But he didn’t smile back. Instead, he just stared and said, “Don’t think you’re gonna have it easy here.”
That caught me off guard—but of course, I didn’t show it. I’m kind of good at that. “Why? Am I supposed to be scared of you?” I asked.
Jisung raised an eyebrow and stepped closer, never taking his eyes off me. “You’re not like the others,” he said, calm but intense. “You’re... different.”
A weird chill ran down my spine. How did he know? No one was supposed to know about my condition.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, same calm tone as always.
He gave me this half-smile—more like a smirk. “Don’t lie to me,” he said. “I know exactly what you are. I’ve seen people like you before. I know how they act.”
Then he turned around and walked out, leaving me there, standing by the door, trying to make sense of what had just happened.