Stellan has to take a deep breath and regain his senses, clenching his fists tightly. He's scared of what he may do if he doesn't close his fists. He may hurt someone in the process if he isn't careful enough, if he's not controlling his temper properly.
"STELLAN! LOOK AT ME!" his mother shouts and it hurts his ears so badly that he has to cover his ears with his hands.
"Oh, so now you're refusing to listen to me? You ungrateful scoundrel!–"
No. Stellan thinks ruefully, his mother going wild as she throws him insult after insult. Her face flushes in anger, an ugly scowl marring her face. He can see the veins popping on his mother's face and Stellan would have thought that she was a monster had he not known better. No, that's not it. You're being too loud and it hurts my ears. Did you forget that my ears are sensitive to loud noises, mother?
"Another fight–just what did you get yourself into, Stellan?! Is this how a child of the Collins family should act?!"
I was fending myself from a group of gangsters near my school who were trying to pickpocket me.
"Are you even listening to me?!"
I am. But you're not. I try to explain but you keep on cutting me off every single time.
"Seriously! Why did I give birth to a rebellious and aggressive teenager?!"
It isn't my choice.
"Get your damn hands off your ears and listen to me you disrespectful brat!–"
His mother screams, grabbing and gripping on Stellan's arms too tight to the point he might even get a dark and long lasting bruise from being held tenaciously by his mother. His breath hitches, desperately trying to break free from his mother's hold but she won't back down, tightening her hold on him. Stellan bites back a painful scream.
Is this how a mother should act?
"Mom–it hurts –"
"Does it now? Then you deserve it, that's what you get for not listening to your mother–"
"Please stop–"
"You're asking me to stop? Are you ordering me now?"
"I'm not–"
"How dare you talk back to me?!"
It's useless. There's no use talking to her.
The servants that are around to witness the fiasco look away from them, knowing full well that they don't have the power to stop the madam of their household. They trudge on to continue their work, ignoring the two of them. They clearly know who is in the wrong yet the madam isn't one that should be trifled with–she can fire them any time should they intervene in the Collins' issues. So they keep quiet and act as if nothing is happening, as if the madam isn't hurting her own son. It's not for them lowly servants to pay mind to.
Stellan is aware of this too. Which is why he doesn't resent any of the servants in the household for only standing there like a bystander and continuing to perform their daily duties in the mansion. They're only there to get paid, not to fix their family issues.
His father puts a firm hand on his mother's shoulder. "Honey. That's enough." he says stoutly. His mother still hasn't let go of Stellan's arms. His father continues, "He should go to school or else he'll get late. We wouldn't want his tardiness to be recorded, no?" That seems to convince his mother as she reluctantly frees her hands from Stellan's arms.
Stellan storms off from the mansion as soon as his mother releases her hold on him, knocking the doors open. His mother's bellowed shouts can be heard from the distance and he lets it go in one ear and out in the other. Once he's sure he's safe away from home, he hesitantly pulls up his sleeves and winces at the small bruises that are forming on his arms.
This is going to be a pain. It will take time to heal.
Stellan runs a hand through his hair in frustration.
Ah, how I wish I could just escape home.
He pulls down his sleeves and strolls towards the bus stop, waiting on the bench. He closes his eyes while waiting, exhausted from the events that occurred this morning. It is too early for him to deal with another one of his mother's unfair and harsh accusations, he only wants to go through the day peacefully. Why can't he have that? Is wishing for peace difficult to achieve?
A loud honk snaps him from his thoughts and the bus arrives, the doors opening automatically. He gets up from his feet and enters the bus, going for his usual seat. There aren't too many students inside and so he doesn't have a difficult time reaching for his seat. He slumps against the window panel beside him, screwing his eyes shut. He didn't get enough sleep last night, the ruckus that his family were causing kept him wide awake and unable to sleep. Danielle got an A- on her recent History exam and their mother severely reprimanded her for it, their father trying his utmost best to keep their mother from hitting Danielle. It would have been enough if Stellan is the only punching bag in their family if it weren't for their parents dragging his younger siblings into their mess.
The ride to school will take around 50 minutes at most, so Stellan lets himself drift off to sleep, thoughts of his family fading away in the background.
. . .
The bus suddenly jolts forward, jerking Stellan awake. He accidentally smacks his head against the window panel and he rubs his head painfully, moaning.
What the hell?
He blinks the bleariness settling in his eyes and pulls out his phone from his pocket. He swipes it open and checks the time with half-lidded eyes. It has only been around 30 minutes since he slept. Why did the bus unexpectedly stop? This hasn't happened before. Murmurs begin to circulate inside the bus, the students chattering incessantly with each other. "Hm, is this the right stop?" the bus driver mutters, squinting his eyes through the large window panel in front of him. "The Kim Residence...ah, that's the one."
The doors slide open and a student Stellan has never seen before in his school, enters with trepidation, his shoulders hunched. He looks around the bus with awe before turning to quickly find a vacant seat.
Stellan peeks at the unfamiliar student and nearly falls over when he sees him going for the seat next to him. As it turns out, it was the only available seat in the bus. Hushed voices break out inside the already cramped bus.
"Oh gosh, he's sitting next to Stellan Collins guys!"
"What an unlucky guy, I wouldn't sit next to Stellan even if I'm forced to."
"What do you think Stellan is going to do?"
"Isn't it obvious? Use him as an errand boy."
"Or follow illegal orders."
"Shouldn't we stop the poor guy?"
"Just leave him alone."
The black-haired teenager seems oblivious to what the other students are saying. He takes his seat next to Stellan and for a split second, their eyes meet. Stellan turns his head away from him before the new passenger in their bus could greet him, having no desire to get all friendly with this new student.
Wait. New student?
Stellan recalls the rumors that took the school by a storm a few days ago.
Oh, so this is the new student they have been talking about?
He steals a short glance at the boy beside him, studying him with scrutinizing eyes.
He looks like...a foreigner. Is he studying here from abroad?
Hm, why does he look unusually weak?
Ah wait, what am I even thinking about? It's none of my business.
He gets rid of the useless thoughts that are distracting his mind and gazes outside the window.
The bus pulls up in the parking lot of their school and students file out of the bus, chatting noisily on their way out. Stellan stifles a yawn with the back of his hand. I just want to sleep.
. . .
A couple of weeks have flown by and Stellan learned that the transferee in their school is actually their new classmate in class. Their classroom adviser told the transferee to introduce himself in class so the boy went in front of the blackboard and introduced himself as Evren Kim. The name sounded so unique and peculiar, rendering their classmates awestruck.
They waved their hands frantically and began bombarding Evren with a ton of questions. The questions stimulated Evren and rooted him to the spot, unable to answer the questions being thrown at him nonstop; their teacher had to calm their classmates down and to ask Evren one by one.
Turns out, Evren is actually half Korean and half American and it makes sense why Stellan thought he was a foreigner. Their classmates became more fascinated with Evren's background as Evren elaborated more about himself and Evren belonged perfectly in their class in no time, as if he was already a part of their class since the first semester.
If Stellan has to be honest, he feels a pang of envy towards Evren for easily fitting in. Whenever thoughts bitten by pitiful jealousy invade the privacy of his mind, he has to forcefully toss it aside. He does not want to bear any useless grudge or resentment against an innocent person, he did nothing wrong and is just another one of your average transferees trying to adjust themselves in an unfamiliar environment.
'Average' is an understatement–the boy is absolutely brilliant in Literature and History, answering all the tricky questions of the teachers that leave the whole class scratching their heads during class correctly without much effort. At their recent exams, Evren topped both Literature and History of their year. As a result, their classmates tend to ask him for help whenever they get assigned with a large pile of assignments and projects. Evren always lights up when they approach him for help in their schoolworks, happy to lend them a helping hand. Stellan can describe Evren as one big ball of sunshine, often seen smiling and talking with their classmates everyday in school. You can never see a time when Evren is left alone. Most of the time, their classmates surround him like a hive of bees after classes.
Stellan is starting to doubt if sitting next to Evren at class is another coincidence. Ironically, the only vacant seat in their classroom at the time Evren was first introduced in their class was the armchair next to him. Just like the occurrence at the bus, people avoid him due to his status in school as a rebellious hooligan whose hobby is to get into fights and glare at everyone that comes his way. The rumors mislead the students into thinking he's just this wannabe depressed jerk who relishes in the thrill of action–that's a big fat lie. First of all, Stellan doesn't enjoy punching random students as they think he is, he's only getting dragged into skirmishes without his consent and has to fight back if he doesn't want to get beaten up. Or he gets involved in a fight to scare the bullies and gangsters away, so they won't dare pick a fight with him ever again. As for his glare–that's just how his eyes appear to others when he does not get enough sleep or if he doesn't sleep properly.
Stellan doesn't bother to fix the misunderstanding based on mere assumptions of the students in their school. You can't change the minds of those who decided to believe in rumors without checking to see if it's true. He lets it be and the gossips continue to run amok.
Stellan silently peers at Evren and his classmates from time to time, the coil in his chest twisting uneasily. He tries to stay conspicuous and he would have believed that no one saw him staring at them–when hazel-brown eyes peek at him curiously. Stellan hastily ducks his head, attempting to act nonchalant about it. Did he catch me staring? Of course he did, why else would he be looking at this way too? Just play dumb about it.
The only issue he has with Evren is that he always–and always–gathers the courage to speak to him when no one else does. At first, he was utterly bamboozled.
Stellan just woke up from a short nap during lunch break, yawning and stretching his shoulders. He was the only one left in the classroom as the others went out to the cafeteria. He appreciated the temporary peace he got to have with no one else in the classroom. No loud or irritating noises, shouts, or yells. Just utter silence. That much brings comfort for his well-being, it is rare for him to ever secure a quiet moment for himself. The conflicts that arose within his household heightened and grew more heated like molten rocks on the verge of combusting, the tension lingering in the air thick and palpable, notwithstanding any of the members of the family to even get a miniscule chance to breathe.
The doorknob turns and the door opens, a figure hovering outside and peering into the empty classroom to look for any occupants. His eyes flicked in recognition as he caught Stellan staring at him for suddenly entering. "Oh, uh." Evren coughs awkwardly. "Hi, are you the only one here?"
Stellan remained quiet. He then spoke. "Yeah, I'm the only one. Do you need anything or what?" Stellan wanted to slap himself for sounding impudent–he got so used to speaking rudely towards others to assert his dominance that it automatically became second nature to him, even if he didn't mean it.
Evren noticed the slight edge in Stellan's tone but he brushed it off, going back to his seat. "If it doesn't bother you," he replied, shuffling through his backpack to grab a notebook. "Can you teach me Math? I didn't get what our teacher said earlier." He shyly rubbed the back of his head, his eyes darting to look at anywhere but Stellan. "Me?" Stellan said in disbelief, a hint of skepticism decorating his features. He took off his headphones. "Teach you Math? What made you get that idea?" He sounded genuinely confused, urging Evren to elaborate. "Ah, well–uhm, how do I say this...?" Evren mumbled under his breath. "Our teacher asked me to assist her with checking our test papers in Math back then and...and I was checking yours and I noticed you got full marks on the test." Evren looked like he was seconds away from bursting out of embarrassment. "So...I assumed that you are smart in Math. Good at solving and stuff."
Stellan stared at him intently, his brain short-circuiting at the ridiculous but honest response.
"Are you not trying to pull a prank on me?"
"I–what?"
"Did someone tell you to try messing around with me?"
"Wha–no! That's not it! Why would you think that?"
Stellan had the perfect answer for it.
Despite his remarkable feats in Mathematics, no one would dare to even think of approaching him. They'd probably rather die in a trench than to think of going to Stellan for help in Math. There was no way. Stellan didn't answer Evren, pondering silently. That made Evren speak slowly. "I'm being serious. I tried asking everyone else but even they didn't understand the lecture." Evren flipped his notebook open and pointed at a specific section of the page. "Can you explain to me how this works? Ah – that's onlyif...uh, if it's–ahem–fine with you." Evren fumbled over his words.
"If I'm bothering you then you don't need to–"
"Sure."
"–to teach me– wait, really...?"
Stellan leaned closer to Evren's notebook, studyinghis notes. "Oh, this one? Yeah, it's hard to grasp the concept if you're not used to it but you basically have to..."
Evren beamed and he listened to Stellan with the utmost attention, nodding and asking as he did so.
Ever since then, Evren doesn't think twice of waving at him amicably and inquiring him about Math when he isn't too certain of his own understanding of their Math teacher's lecture. Their classmates look at Evren in sheer horror as if Evren has gone juvenile. The first time Evren approached him during class while their classmates were hanging around, they pulled Evren by the sleeve and furiously scolded him in muffled voices.
"Have you lost your mind?!" one of them said, glancing at Stellan worriedly.
"No, why?" Evren asked, oblivious.
"That's Stellan we're talking about!"
"So?"
"So?! What do you mean 'so'?!"
"What about it?"
"Do you not know what he does? He speaks of trouble! He gets involved in fights!"
Evren tilted his head innocently. "He didn't do anything to me though. He didn't treat me badly either."
"That could be a trap! A trap I tell ya!–"
Disregarding his classmates' warnings, he never stops initiating conversation with Stellan. If he's not asking him questions about Math, he would talk about other things. It can be completely irrelevant too. Like asking him if he's feeling alright, what he's doing, what he feels about school, his interests, and so on. Stellan feels that everything is surreal, Evren's own existence seems bizarre and out of the ordinary too. At first, he tried to push Evren away–still thinking that Evren must have played in a bet or something to become friends with him and then dump him afterwards because they thought it would be funny or so he could get paid for it by pretending to act nice.
But Evren isn't that kind of person at all. No matter what Stellan says or does, Evren still and always without fail, comes up to him and starts talking about the most mundane things. Stellan has no choice but to drop his rebellious facade and give his own appropriate answers to Evren's questions. He doesn't know why he thought of Evren doing such a thing when he looks like he couldn't even hurt a fly himself–but then again, you can't just judge a book by its cover. There are people who look innocent when in reality, they're perhaps one of the harshest and most vile people on earth. Evren ripped off that belief, making himself obviously clear that he isn't that type of person without needing to say so, only expressing himself with actions. Evren gives and gives and gives whether it would be a listening ear, a lending hand, or his full attention and Stellan is just gobsmacked by the unfamiliarity of it all.
And so even with a stoic face and a nonchalant air hanging around Stellan, he finds himself holding back a smile whenever Evren approaches him during breaks or even during class. He ignores the warm feeling bubbling inside him as Evren starts to complain about school, listening and giving him his own opinion. He does not want to admit that he secretly looks forward to talking with Evren whenever they have the chance to. He will never admit it to himself or to anyone else for that matter.
On a hot and sunny day, their class adviser arrives with an announcement, demanding everyone's attention. "Class, settle down!" The class goes silent and listens to what their teacher has to say. "In 2 weeks, we'll be holding an art competition sponsored by the student council. Each section will have a representative to participate but before all that, you guys will be competing with each other to see who would be best fit for the role as the representative – those who want to participate I mean. It isn't mandatory for everyone."
A student raises their hand. "How will we compete and when is the deadline if I may ask?"
"Good question, you will draw comics portraying daily life while adding unique elements to it. It can be about anything such as friendship and family–it can even tackle issues like isolation and bullying. It's due 6 days from now."
Jovial and ecstatic murmurs spread around the classroom, looking forward to the upcoming competition. It has been the hot topic of their school for the entire day, the hallways and cafeteria buzzing with excitement.
Stellan leans against the railings of the rooftop, his eyebrows scrunched in deep concentration, biting on his pencil. He tears off the page of his sketchbook that he was staring relentlessly at, crumpling it into a ball and tosses it over the railings. He groans and throws his head back to gaze at the sky, the clouds calmly floating by. All of the ideas he sketched ended up having unsatisfactory results–they're all plain, boring, and just dull. Is he having an art block right now? Or to be accurate, a writer's block? He isn't even a writer in the first place.
He sighs, sliding against the railings and sitting on the floor. When he first heard of the art competition, he wanted to join in. He was over the moon now that he could finally show off his art skills–it has been a passion he spent years sharpening and training himself steadily, a hobby that comforts him on his darkest days .
The only problem is–he isn't well-versed in writing stories of all things, it's an unfamiliar territory he hasn't touched yet. Sure, he can draw spectacularly well but what is the point if he cannot tell his stories across? You can have good art but have terrible stories. The bell rings abnormally loudly and Stellan has to put his headphones on to cancel out the agitating noise. Time to go back to class. He thinks soberly.
While he's on his way to class grudgingly, kicking off the pebbles scattered on the ground and cursing out the world–he spots a notebook sprawled open out in the school yards. Curious, he moves to pick it up from the ground. He frowns at the miserable state the notebook has been placed into, dusting it. The notebook is covered with dirt and scratches, as if it went through a hellish war and barely survived. Did someone drop this notebook? As he is tidying it, the content of the notebook piques his interest.
He reads it closely, word by word, sentence by sentence, and paragraph by paragraph and without knowing it, he has absorbed himself in reading it with rapt focus–entirely forgetting to attend his class. His jaw drops and he flips page after page, his eyes sparkling in amazement. Who wrote these stories? It's good! It's how I want my stories to be written! He searches for the name of the owner on the notebook, turning it over. He finds none. Should I head over to the 'Lost and Found Center'? His mouth forms into a thin line, contemplating carefully. He's reluctant to hand it over, still wanting to read more of the stories that are superbly written. I will look for the person who wrote these–I want to ask them for some tips...after I read the whole thing. Is he invading someone's privacy? It won't hurt to read more, right? He hopes so. It's not like there's anything personal written...he feels like a thief or stalker for wanting to read more though.
. . .
A few days have passed and Stellan firmly decides to return the notebook back to the owner filled with incredible and captivating stories. He has read everything from the first page till the last, diligently using any spare time he has to finish it. He reads it till late at night, while he's on the bus, as he slacks around in his room, and during breaks at school. He impatiently waits for the teacher to wrap up their discussion, taking a subtle glance at his seatmate every now and then. He has an inkling that the owner is Evren–he kept on asking everyone if they found a notebook he lost during break back when Stellan found the notebook.
The description Evren gave them matches the notebook in Stellan's possession. A black notebook with multiple stickers adorning it from the front to back. The cute stickers have Stellan amused. Is he into those kinds of things? I don't blame him though. If Evren was to hear his thoughts, he would have loudly protested and shrieked out of embarrassment ("It's not what you think it is! You're getting the wrong idea!").
Stellan feels a bit guilty for not returning it to Evren earlier, only keeping quiet because he wasn't done reading it and hadn't uttered a word when Evren asked him about it. He was afraid that if he were to give it back to Evren, he wouldn't let him read his stories any longer. A dumb excuse, Stellan knows. He is very much aware that Evren may let him use his notebook if he were to simply just go up to him and ask. It's definitely not because he's too bashful to approach Evren without Evren coming up to him first, there's no way.
Lunch break arrives and before Stellan calls for Evren, the black-haired teen heads out of class, not giving the chance for Stellan to even try to talk to him. He must be looking for his notebook seeing how he's in a hurry. Stellan stays in his seat with a blank face. Should I just wait for him here...or should I go follow him? As he sits there with his mind whirling chaotically, he pushes himself up from his seat, tightening his fist in determination. Okay, I'm going to look for him and tell him everything about the notebook–I won't chicken down like a coward. He slips into the hallway, searching for Evren, his footsteps go unheard in the bustling crowded hallway. Just be yourself except like...don't treat him like trash. The guy doesn't deserve that...actually, I think he's the only person who doesn't deserve that so far. Especially since Evren is the only one daring enough to talk to him regardless of his status in school and has been nothing but kind towards him. So why should he treat a kind person horribly?
He tries for the cafeteria but Evren can't be seen anywhere. He opts to look in the schoolyards, thinking that Evren must be trying to look for his notebook since it was the place Stellan found it. Heavy and overbearing footsteps echo in the still schoolyard, crunching over the twigs and leaves mercilessly. Stellan stops in his tracks, his senses mounting alarmingly. He knows it's not the footsteps of Evren. Evren's footsteps are quiet and gentle like the soft rustling of the leaves or the mellow breeze in spring, as if being cautious of his surroundings or more like being cautious of himself–which Stellan doesn't get until now but it probably has something to do with Evren appearing weak and fragile.
"Hey, isn't that the guy who pummeled us?" A crusty voice asks, anger seeping into his voice. "Oh hell yeah, it's him alright!" the others confirm, their eyes glinting in fury and mischief. Stellan curses a colorful string of words. Not them again. It's the gangsters who made a failed attempt at pickpocketing him. They're 5 in total. "Oi, you! We're not done with you just yet!" Stellan cringes over how cliche the line is. "Hey, can't you hear us?!" Stellan takes a deep breath and spins around to face them, a scowl plastered on his face. "Ugh, what are you guys, a bunch of toddlers learning how to speak? Who says 'We're not done with you just yet,' nowadays?" he scoffs, hiding the notebook behind him. They might steal and ruin it if they see it just for fun. "First time threatening someone? If so, you're doing a terrible job at it." he snorts, shaking his head.
"You!–" one of them exclaims. "Ha! You're asking for a beating!"
Stellan raises one of his eyebrows, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Says the guy who got beaten up by well," Stellan shamelessly brushes his hair back in pure arrogant fashion, "none other than me." That statement enrages the gangsters to a frightening level, cueing them to tackle Stellan.
Once again, Stellan engages in the ferocious fight with ease, infuriating the gangsters even more and Stellan thinks their blood levels must have risen high and beyond. He drops the notebook in a safe place away from the eyes of the gangsters before proceeding to fight them off. He dodges a simultaneous punch and kick aiming at him and knocks the two gangsters who were sneaking behind him with a roundabout kick. He is about to finish them off–the gangsters bruised and beaten up after multiple punches and kicks–when Evren walks into the scene and stiffens.
Stellan freezes and his jaw goes slack at the sight of Evren walking in, perhaps without meaning to because Evren's face seems to be saying that he regretted coming over here. Should Stellan be happy that he finally has the chance to talk to Evren about the notebook or horrified because of the possibility of the gangsters claiming him as their next victim? Stellan does not notice the punch going for his face, too lost in his own thoughts. "Watch out!" Evren shouts, snapping Stellan from his stupor. Stellan ducks and sends one of the gangsters flying with a punch. Stellan is grateful for Evren's signal. "Thanks!" he yells back. Evren smiles shakily at him and Stellan has to smother down an apologetic grin of his own. He badly wants to speak to him as the deadline to submit his comics is just around the corner but first...
Let me beat them up.
He does not like to entangle an innocent person into his mess.