Ah, high school.

Some of the ~~worst~~ best years of your life, all compact into one campus.

However, Chuuya’s experience was not as picture perfect as the movies portrayed it to be.

Not only was he a French exchange student who, regretfully, did not know shit about public high school, but most of his classmates could not care any less about him.

The hallways were bustling with activity. Lockers clanged open and shut as students gathered their books for the day. Friends greeted each other with warm smiles and laughter, catching up on the latest gossip or discussing last night's homework. The air was filled with the hum of chatter and the occasional shout from a teacher reminding students to hurry to class.

Chuuya pulled his backpack on a bit tighter, accidentally bumping someone’s shoulder as he walked past, but they both just simply kept walking.

Weird.

At Chuuya’s old school, he would’ve got his ass handed to him for that.

Making his way to the library, Chuuya noted the familiar presence of a boy who always hung out here. He had scruffy brown hair, a bandage over his right eye and another on his cheek. But he seemed to have brown eyes. He was always looking down, so it was hard to tell.

That night, Chuuya found the boy’s Instagram, via a lot of stalking, and sent him a simple text.

@4rahab4k1s.5

“Hey”

Sent 10:42 P.M.