He was the last to leave the room as he didn't want to be part of them. It didn't take long for him to find his class: Year One – Class C.
The door was already open. Inside, a woman stood beside the desk, slim, with long hair tied into a low ponytail.
He knocked.
The teacher turned and permitted him to enter.
His fingers tightened around the straps of his backpack. Speaking in front of strangers was never easy for him, and the silence made it even worse.
"Good afternoon, madam." His voice trembled despite his effort.
"Good afternoon," the teacher replied calmly. Since there were other new students earlier, she knew the boy was the same case.
"Introduce yourself."
His heart beat so fast it felt unreasonable as he slowly turned around.
It was his first time in a class with only boys. The atmosphere felt heavier, and the room seemed to grow dim.
There were more students than he had expected, and none of them spoke as they paid attention to him.
Facing the back of the room, he forced out the words, "I'm Christan Vance." His voice was so low that even the teacher barely heard it.
The class waited as if there were more words to come, but there was only silence.
The teacher sighed. "Take the empty seat at the back."
Christan nodded and headed there without looking at anyone, and murmurs began.
"Someone feed that dude."
Quiet laughs followed.
He reached the last row and sat down quietly. He pulled a notebook from his bag and faced forward to focus on the teacher.
He still felt the stares.
He glanced around the room. No one paid him any attention anymore. Then he turned slightly to his left, where his seatmate sat.
Christan's eyes widened.
It was him. Christan glanced at the notebook on his desk; the name read Ethan Grant.
Ethan shifted his attention forward as if it were normal for Christan to be there.
Soon, the teacher finished her lesson and left.
Now that the teacher was gone, whispers and murmurs took their place. Students moved around and even went outside.
He glanced around the class. Everyone seemed normal, just like in other schools. He remembered the teacher's words that none of the rumors were true. Could it be true?
During the short break, he quietly left for the restroom.
He stood at the sink, rinsing his hands when someone came in.
The boy clutched his stomach tightly, his face pale with discomfort. Christan glanced at his roommate in disbelief and confusion.
Why? At this time, shouldn't he be at the infirmary?
Logan stepped into one of the stalls, not even acknowledging Christan with how much pain he seemed to be in.
"Hey… can you get me some toilet paper from the next stall?"
Christan, who had frozen for a moment as he tried to understand him, snapped out of his thoughts. He went to the next stall, grabbed the roll, and tossed it over the divider.
"Thank you."
That guy was too serious about his chance at this school, Christan guessed. There was no way he would do the same.
When he returned to the classroom, the noise had increased so much that he wondered if it was the right class, or even the right school.
He was at the front of the class when something shot toward him at high speed.
His hand moved before his mind could react and raised just in time for the ball to slam into his palm like glue. His eyes sharpened for a moment before he relaxed and grabbed the ball with both hands.
The one who had thrown the ball, his friend, and a few others who noticed froze as they stared at him.
They were sure the boy hadn't seen the ball coming, yet he had managed to catch it just in time.
Christan walked forward and dropped the ball on the desk of the one who threw it.
"Hey. Do you play basketball?" the guy with raven curly hair and honey-colored skin asked.
What? He shook his head. "I don't play."
If he was capable of that, then everyone else could find it easy. He left to return to his seat, his brow furrowed from not receiving even a simple apology.
"No way… if it isn't basketball, then what was it?" the guy with raven hair asked himself, looking at Christan's back.
Christan was annoyed that he didn't notice someone stretching his leg across the way. His foot caught it, and he stumbled forward, almost falling.
He straightened himself and looked at the one who had done it.
The boy was casually leaning against a chair, his flat-cut red hair visible. He lazily turned his grey eyes toward him and smiled with a slight wave of his hand.
Weirdo. The school might be different, but the students seemed the same.
Ignoring him, he went back to his seat.
At that moment, he saw Logan entering the class. So they were in the same class.
From their room, the three of them were in the same class.
"Christan, right?"
Christan looked up.
A boy with round glasses stood beside his desk, staring at him curiously.
"I'm Zaren. Would you like to join our designing club and be our model?"
"Pardon?"
"A model for our club."
Christan blinked.
That was the last thing he expected to hear today.
It was compulsory to have at least one club, and he wasn't even sure what he preferred. But to think of being a model?
"Why… if I may ask?" Christan asked awkwardly.
"You've got the looks." Then Zaren smiled. "Our club gets to compete with other schools. You'll have a lot of chances to breathe outside this cage." He leaned closer with a smirk. "There are girls too…"
He wanted to force a smile, but even that failed. "Thank you for noticing me, but I don't think I'm the right person."
Zaren's smile dimmed and faltered. "Don't decide so fast. Think about it."
When Zaren left, Christan took a deep breath and dropped his head onto the desk, exhausted.
Only to find Ethan staring with his deep gaze, sitting with his arms crossed. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Christan turned his face away, his brows knitting together. He closed his eyes, trying not to think about anything.
It didn't work. What was that?