RUSSIAN ROULETTE is a one-shot writing contest involving either the hit or miss of the genre you receive. whether in struggle or in infamous glory, your limits will be tested.
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WRITTEN BY:flrt_tyun GENRE: PSYCHOLOGICAL FICTION.
He walked through the hallway with his hands in his pockets.
Their voices were so quiet yet so loud. Each little rumor was like a jackhammer to the head, even if they were said in a whisper. The words were so hurtful, yet said in such a casual tone it seemed like it was just two people making conversation. Maybe they were and his name had just happened to come across in the topic.
No. He knew they were intentionally talking about him.
His hands felt clammy as he clenched them. He pulled his hands out of his pocket and held onto his backpack instead.
And it wasn't like he was ugly or fat. No, he was actually decent looking and had an athletic build. Yet, people still found something to gossip about. His grades were solid, maybe the occasional C or D if he didn't study the night before a test. And he had heard teachers and adults say that he was a very polite gentleman.
Maybe that's what he should focus on. The good stuff.
His ears immediately caught someone saying his name.
Or maybe not. No matter how many times he told himself that, he still wanted those people to just shut up though. Why would they say bad things if there was nothing bad to say? Wasn't he just another high school student going through the day? He wasn't hooking up with random girls, he wasn't doing drugs or vandalizing bathrooms. He was just trying to make it through high school just like they were.
Yeah, maybe he shouldn't worry too much about that kind of stuff but it bothered him. It bothered him a lot. Maybe he should just tell them to shut up. Or maybe not. That would just give them an actual reason to gossip.
His whole world was just filled with "maybe"s and "maybe not"s. Unfortunately for him, walking up to them and yelling was a big "maybe not". So he held his head high and walked by like nothing was happening.
Yeonjun gave them a look that said "maybe you hate me, maybe you don't. I could care less."
~ ~ ~
He opened the door of his house, not bothering to grab an umbrella on the way out.
He wanted to scream, to shout at someone. Anyone. But he knew he couldn't. All his friends were changing whether he liked it or not. And it didn't matter if they all found new best friends to hang out with because there was nothing he could do to change that.
Rain poured down his back and soaked his clothes. It was pouring outside, but he didn't care.
But what he couldn't seem to understand is why everyone was suddenly against him. Even in the tiniest little things like a discussion about music. They were always against him. He would try to understand their side, but they didn't seem to get that his personality and thoughts were different from theirs.
