» ɴᴄᴛ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ sᴇʀɪᴇs #1
» ʜɪɢʜ sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴀᴜ
Na Jaemin. That's his name. Playing with girls. That's his game. Well, it was his game until she came in the picture.
Na Jaemin, well-known for his superb looks that sweeps the girls in town off their feet. Eve...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
He rubbed his hair with towel as he made his way out of the bathroom after giving himself a quick shower before coming to school. Outside was a bit dim, dark clouds grimming the paths as it daunted to rain. But he didn't mind. In fact, he liked the rain.
Something about it eases his tensed countenance, and he feels as if the rain is patronizing him in ways he cannot do for himself. The way the waters drop from a filled cloud, pouring differently on various time. It was as if they were pouring in his stead.
He was about to grab his phone on the bedside table to text Renjun when his peripheral sight caught the figure of his mother standing by his desk with a familiar piece of paper in her hand.
He stilled, he didn't have any intention of letting her know the report cards came out yesterday. The dull, unreadable expression on her face is exactly the reason why he doesn't get the goad to have it known to her. He couldn't make out if she's proud or disappointed, but he hoped it was the former. He always does. But this time, he feels like he deserves it because they're different—it has improved. He hoped she was proud of that small victory, and that he could possibly be enough to be better compared to his father.
Every student shared a common chord of anxiety in seeing the finality of their hardwork. But a somewhat proud feeling settled in Jaemin's chest the second he read his report card. And though he is not one to fuss of the said grades, this time he can't explain why he felt a sense of relief when he found out that his mark in a particular subject was definitely begging to disagree how he's incompetent of the subject before.
He was actually surprised of the turnout. Maybe Minhee's faith did the wonders.
He flickered his eyes to the side, not knowing what to say or do, foot tapping against the floor like a drum snickering in a gradual manner in an intesifying movie scene.
Isn't she going to say anything at all? He strode towards his mother and took the paper from her but she swiftly pulled it from his reach and spoke, gaze strained on it.
"They've gotten better."
He stilled, again, taken aback. "I—"
"Don't show this to your father."
He clicked his lips. "Won't dare," he said.
If only his parents were a pinch of Donghyuck's, perhaps he wouldn't be disheartened to share a little celebration of his minor improvements with them.
A loud bang sounded from the door and they both flinched at its flare. He's home. And he's under the influence as he walked to his wife who immediately put down the paper on the table. Jaemin wanted to run and shut the his door close, but his father had quickly caught sight of the paper his mother was just holding.
