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Lee Dong-Woo hated a lot of things.
Especially loud assholes who have no business being so noisy.
"Hi, everyone! It's your boy Pakgo, with 700,000 amazing Newtube subscribers!" Dong-Woo groaned and tugged his hood further onto his head, covering his eyes. The blasting music through his headset couldn't even shut the loud boy out. "And joining us for today's lunchtime livestream...is my classmate and beauty Newtuber, Rumi." A perky blonde was now introduced, her body positioned in front of the camera. "I'm just starting out...so thanks for watching!~~" The dark haired male peeked through the slight opening of his hoodie, watching the scene unfold before him. "I'll do my best...so please be nice to me!" He cringed at the sight of the female flaunting herself. He wished for the girl to have more self respect, knowing she was more than just her body.
But that's the price of being a Newtuber; the price of living in this society. He despised the beauty standards Korea held. Everyone had to be perfect every second of the day— which was something he was far from. Dong-Woo was nowhere near perfect and he was fine by that. Besides, he'd much rather sit the farthest away from human contact, staying quiet and making himself seem invisible to the naked eye. That was the life he had lived for a long time now and he planned to keep it that way. Tuning back into the conversation that was being held by the Newtubers, he now stared pitifully at the boy in between the two. "Hey Hobin. Say hi to our viewers and give them a smile." This wasn't something he took pride in watching. Don't get him wrong, if he had the will to do so, he would have already gotten rid of the nuissance named Pakgo.
But Lee Dong-Woo had no will to do anything. Not anymore at least.
He shook his head at the shaved boy's lies towards his viewers, a sigh flowing from his pink lips as the camera finally cut off. The showtime had come to an end and he could now relax his tensed body. He wasn't one for cameras nor an audience; camera shy as one would call it. It wasn't that he thought he was ugly or anything, he just didn't like being the center of attention. Twirling his headset wire, the boy blew his messy bangs out of his eyes. The pitiful boy had run out of the classroom a bit ago and had left the two to themselves. Dong-Woo ignored the guilt that pang in his chest. This happened often to him. There were many of things he knew that he could possibly prevent, but never actually could muster up the will to do so.
The sound of the classroom door had snapped the male out of his thoughts, his eyes trailing over to the now makeup-free Hobin. He knew this wouldn't end well once he saw the boy tumble to the ground. Jiksae, a known clout chaser and camera man of Pakgo, was now kicking the boy. This made his fists clench, but he continued to stay put, only making himself seem smaller and smaller. "You fucking dumbass!! Didn't I tell you not to look miserable on camera?" 'How in the hell was he supposed to do that? Even I wouldn't have been able to keep myself from looking miserable', he rolled his dark eyes along with his thoughts. "Fuck, you piss me off. Am I a joke to you?" "S-Stop...S-Stop kicking me."
He had to look away. He couldn't watch the scene anymore.
'Seems all too familiar.'
Dong-Woo had went back to shutting the world out as per usual, that was until he saw the boy begin to tremble. "Has your mom dropped dead yet or is she still around? You said she was sick. Let me use her account." The boy couldn't believe what he was hearing. Who would ask someone such a thing? It made him feel sick to his stomach, something stirring within him. Hobin sat in shock, his doe like eyes widening to their compacity. "What..What?" "Ahaha, damn, you took it too far, man", Pakgo cackled along with Rumi. "Hey you should apologize, that was harsh haha." 'I can't believe these assholes are laughing at that idiot. Dammit..'
"Yo, you can't just say "has your mom dropped dead yet?", just ask him if she's still alive." Rumi continued to laugh along, which had only fueled his anger. "Okay thanks, Pakgo. You can't say I'm the only piece of trash here, haha." Hobin continued to tremble, his own fists clenched. He was holding himself back from fighting the blonde boy, his own fear getting to him— that was until something he, no one, would have thought would happen, happened.
Lee Dong-Woo had finally said his first words.
"How about you shut that damn mouth of yours before I shove the camera down your throat. Maybe that can be your debut as a Newtuber."
The classroom had finally gone silent, something he had wished would have happened without him having to speak up. The boy sweat-dropped at the shocked facial expressions of his classmates. "Holy shit...the freak finally spoke up", Jiksae had pushed the threat to the back of his head, rushing up to the hooded male and wrapped a single arm around his thin shoulders. "Now let's see what this shithead looks like under the hood." Before he could slip his hand up to the boy's hood, a pale hand had latched onto his wrist, twisting it backwards. "A-Ah fuck!"
"Haha that's what ya get idiot. Besides, he's probably just hiding some deformed face under there. I don't feel like throwing up my lunch."
Though it had an insult thrown at him, Dong-Woo was for once thankful for Pakgo. The beaten male named Hobin was still sat in shock. No one had ever stood up for him, nontheless the quiet hooded kid. Hobin had never spoken to him, in fact no one had. He just sat in the back with his hood pulled up, headset blasting music. He couldn't help to admit that his curiosity had been peaked.
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"Fuck, you fucking moron!"
At the moment in time, Dong-Woo was now flopped onto his bed, muttering curses under his breath. He tugged at his dark locks, his free hand slipping beneath his pillow, in search of his desired item.
Smoking wasn't something he was proud of. He would have had his ass handed to him if his father were to ever find out about it. But it had been almost two..three? Years since he had last seen him. He had dipped as soon as he had turned 18. He couldn't stand the sight of the man nor his childhood home anymore. That's how he ended up in a run down studio apartment, living in a just as run down neighborhood. But he preferred it this way. People were real here— at least as real as they could be. Here, he could live as himself and not someone he was chosen to be. He was free.
He watched as the hazy smoke flew out his cracked window, a stressed sigh breezing past his parted lips. Though not the best metaphor (nor healthiest) for what he was going for, he had wished he were like the smoke that left his lungs. He wanted to be left to drift off into the night breeze, no doubt nor worry in the world. But alas, he could never be that smoke, no matter how hard he wished to be. His phone had begun to buzz, his alarm going off right on the dot. "Fuck. I hate my life."
