who are you? || taegyu || completed

~the final question~

I'm sorry guyyys this wasn't too good Idk why I had so much trouble with it but yeah... anyways I hope you enjoy~

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While Beomgyu was in class, all he appeared to be able to do was glare at the small clock balancing above the chalkboard. With each second that passed by, the artist could feel a drop of his confidence disappear along with it. Every time a hand of the dial ticked past a number, the boy felt himself grow smaller and while the class's excitement grew, he folded in on himself, wishing time would slow and he could be stuck in the boring lecture forever.

He felt like sobbing and every word his teacher spoke sowed yet another seed of utter regret deep into his gut. A sharp sting resounded in the back of his throat and a dull ache rested behind his eyes, tears threatening to overflow their tiny cells. Why did he put himself through this? Why was he like oh yes, of course, this is a great idea! Let's let anxiety eat us up until nothing is left but dumb jokes and self-deprecation! Amazing idea Beomgyu! The best one you've had since 2001! Why was he like this? Why did he allow himself-

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the sheer scream of the lunch bell and his stomach rolled for the second time that day. 

"...shit." He groaned, trying to sink further into his seat, praying he could disappear. It wasn't until his classmates rushed out of the room, each student buzzing with an unspoken excitement, where the boy finally began to pack up, doing anything to prolong his utter death and emb-

"Get the fuck up you pompous ass biscuit!"

"I- Yeonjun, what?"

"Don't question it, let's go!" The older said, pulling Beomgyu's arm and attempting to drag him out of his seat. The artist groaned again and latched his other arm around the bar of his desk, trying his best to delay the utter inevitable. "Beomgyu..." His best friend whined, giving the younger's limb another tug, the desk legs scraping against the tile floor as the artist clung to it like it was his only change of survival. "Come on, you're being ridiculous."

It took one last pull from the older for Beomgyu to finally give up, letting go of the desk, and allow himself to be pulled to his feet. "Hyuuuung," the artist whimpered, his hands and knees shaking. "Hyung, I really really don't this i can do th-"

"Gyu," Yeonjun interrupted, placing his hands on the younger's shoulders. "Hon, you have to do it.  More than that, you should do it. You are a strong and incredibly talented person, okay? It'll be okay. Honestly, what is the worst that could happen, huh? The student body ignores you? No offense but that's already happening. The boys will be angry with you? They're a lot more understanding than you think. Taehyun will hate you? Gyu, he's not a twelve-year-old boy, he's seventeen and has a bigger head and heart than most people in this school. It'll be okay. He might be angry at first, but he will cool off, okay? Now, get your shit together you warthog-faced buffoon, and let's get rolling!"

"...did you just quote Princess Bride at me?"

"That's beside the point, Gyu, do you understand me?"

Beomgyu stood there for a second before he dropped his head and nodded. "you're right... Everyone already doesn't like me so what am I afraid of, right?" He murmured, his voice sounding slightly more sure than a few seconds ago.

"...That's not really what I meant-"

"Shhh let me have my moment of confidence."

"I- yeah alright.... Then are you ready?" He asked, giving his best friend a once over. The artist looked a bit pale and his fists were clenched at his sides but he shrugged silently and reached down, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.