"quartz rose."
moon taeil glided on an ocean of grey concrete, bike becoming unsteady every once in a while from absent minded minerals who found themselves on the shores of modern civilization, far away from their home where they resided inside the earth instead of on top of it. taeil frowned at the sidewalk; dull and dry, reminded him of the falsities of the american dream- no one here was really free, this small world was the same as any other; everyone slaves in their life- despite what the people preached. grey was neutral nothingness, literally a color without color. the world was just as grey; a world built on hate and lies and climbing on top of the other; all the good blending into the bad, all the white blending into the black until it became achromatic; grey.
he enjoyed the soft breeze that tumbled through his tight locks, messy and unkempt, having havent seen a comb or brush since middle school; chestnut colored and dirty. wind rustling his insides, cooing and nuzzling against him, comforting and cool and whispering sweet nothings, singing a soft winter lullaby for just taeil. he hummed along, small houses and trees panning past him through the lens of his brown eyes; a morning movie for just him. contrary to what one would believe; taeil liked mornings, he loved his morning sonatas and airy sweet kisses. early morning movie bliss. the world not quite discovered; seen just through his eyes.
school was a cage into which taeil found himself forced into; another false american dream. nobody made it out happy; just alive and glad that it had ended. he cringed at at the ghosting bodies of teenagers, bright halls, fluorescent lights hurting his sensitive eyes. he wanted nothing more than to just get to class, feel the pastels between his fingers, scrawl until they went numb, he sighed at such a thought, warmth flooding within him.
the seat rumbled as he settled down, plastic and cheap underneath him, body heat transferring to the small chair. the room was unoccupied the way taeil liked it. within seconds, he has his notebook out, powder and oil cradled in his large hand, notebook flipped to the page he had abandoned this morning. on the page: the beginning of a bird; small and quaint, but tainted, colors leaking across the page, wobbly marks a gift of taeils condition. if only the boy could get some sleep. his hands moved with ease, ebbing away lost in a sea of color, beauty that belonged to him.
the bell tittered and taeil shivered, inwardly groaned. heads began to bobble in, feet kicking at the blue black carpet, nestling in chairs, voices shouting for fear that others wouldnt hear them- granted they were standing right beside the other. he looked at the small bird, still not complete and pushed it to the side of the wooden desk, smooth beneath his fingertips and instead pulled out a different type of journal: a math journal.
his browns eyes flitted to the sound of an infamous voice, a voice he knew all too well, a voice whos mouth he found foul and immature, his mind corrupt with ignorance; taeil was sure of it. flashing past taeil with his smug puppy face and bleached blonde hair. laughter crawling up taeils ears like cockroaches. a boy whos presence had spread to popularity like plague; sickness in their veins, tongues lapping at his feet. fighting over him like the front seat when he was no one. taeyong had no true identity; he was just nice to look at. someone who made you look good.
the class settled, taeyongs mouth finally shut up, taeil saved by the final bell.
