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—and if he was dead, what would i see him as?
OCTOBER 3: JEON JEONGGUK
==
if asked, he would adamantly propose the train's momentum as the reason for his shaking fingers; in reality, it is the sheer aspect of being late to college that threatens his knees to buckle under (slightly pointless) nervousness.
jeon jeongguk has barely begun his first year of college, and he already sports three tardies on his attendance count.
it would be natural to assume that tardies are simply one of the many ever-going aspects of college, and maybe—just maybe—jeongguk's professor will be able to cut him some slack. this is irrational, of course, and it may just be his own fault, because out of every college he applied to he picked the one with severe contempt towards tardies.
jeongguk is screwed. so no, it is not the subway's momentum that causes him to shake.
he debates skipping classes today entirely and using the excuse of a sudden cold—despite it being the beginning of october—, since it sounds a little more convincing to forgive than simply waking up too late. the idea is preposterous, but jeongguk seriously considers it; the subway halts as it comes to the stop before his college, and he decides to spend the next five minutes weighing the pros and cons like the responsible nineteen-year-old he is.
(he doesn't; he ends up being distracted by a sudden mob of people boarding the electronic train, and he feels too claustrophobic to logically think—so he says.)
there is one particular passenger that catches his eye, though—and it isn't exactly for a good reason. there's a teenager, possibly around his age, with hollowed cheeks and sickly skin, stringy brown hair, and a worn down white shirt. the boy drums his fingers against the pole and darts his eyes around.
jeongguk blinks and finds himself staring. damn, homeless this early? what a shame.
as if on cue, the teenager's head turns to him at the speed of a bullet train, eyes wide and bloodshot. no other passengers seem to pay heed to him, but jeongguk expects just as much. he hasn't quite gotten accustomed to the city yet, much less its beggars.
the boy keeps staring, lips chapped and bleeding. jeongguk swallows and raises a stiff hand, waving the slightest, as he keeps his eyes anywhere but the guy five feet away from him.
the teenager turns completely around, stands still for two seconds, and turns back to face jeongguk with eyes somehow wider than before. when jeongguk raises an eyebrow and waves again, the guy inhales sharply and latches onto the pole.
and then he grins. wide, in a square-shaped smile, and jeongguk spots crevices between his teeth that leak blood. he furrows his eyebrows in discomfort, turning his head to those around him. christ, the people here are crazy, jeongguk thinks, and he buries his hands in the pockets of his jacket.
