it feels like everything is charging towards him all at once, at full speed, like a train flying above its tracks. he should be running from it, but all he could do is stare at it like a deer in the headlights, going back and forth between 'i'm too young to die' and 'it's about damn time'.
his best friend is dead. he has an art exhibition to prepare for. he has to be around people he only wants to avoid.
he's barely had time to process jisoo's passing, still grappling with the loss (and gains) of it all. the void he left behind seemingly too great to fill, like his shoes always were to minjun—the kind he knew he'd stumble and fall if he tried walking in them.
despite the chaos of it all, he's still expected to throw himself into his art and put together an exhibition that not only proves he's still got what it takes, but that he is the best sculpture artist to grace the campus grounds of mugunghwa.
now is the time to show people that he's not just playing second fiddle to jisoo. he no longer wants to hide in his shadow—he wants the spotlight to himself this time. pressures are on, his immense need to prove himself and gain validation greater than ever, like how it was when jisoo was still around; like he never left.
that's what it feels like walking the hallways of mugunghwa after the incident. even when he was alone, it felt like jisoo's presence was ghosting around him. eyes were always on him, concerned faces turned his way, whispers of gossip, speculations of what really went on that night. even the walls felt like they were closing in on him, listening to his every thought.
he started showing up late for classes, to avoid the crowded hallways; to slip into class when everyone's attention was on the professor, too eager to exceed each other to pay heed to the latecomer entering from the back door. most of all, he'd be able to avoid the suffocating small talk, ostentatious condolences offered to him, and the constant reminder that people only think of jisoo when they see him.
just as he does for every class since the fall semester started, minjun tiptoed into class fifteen minutes late, scanning the back row for an empty seat before he realised today's class was a little different. students weren't hovered over their laptops and notebooks, taking notes or dozing off while a lecture went on—they were working on their sculptures for the upcoming exhibition.
some eyes were on him, but he ignores them all and meets the disapproving gaze of their professor, shaking his head as he glances at his wristwatch, before returning his attention to the student he was advising. minjun finds an empty seat by the corner of the class—not the best spot, considering who it was next to, but he had to make do and not draw even more attention to himself.
he contemplates, not in the mood to strike up a conversation, yet fully aware that their professor was making his way around the class and wouldn't be happy to know that he was not only late, but has no clue about what was going on. he swallows, both his pride and the lump in his throat, turning to mingze to whisper, "i thought we had a lecture today? why is everyone working on their sculptures?"
GREEN-EYED MONSTER ft. @godhe4rt
