Jungkook

You first noticed him completely by accident. While the whole school was buzzing during recess, he was sitting alone by the window at the far end of the hallway, hunched over a notebook. Tall, but seemingly trying to be smaller, he wore a gray hoodie pulled over his head. Only a strand of dark hair peeked out from underneath. In your world, a world of ringing laughter, popularity, and universal attention, people like him simply didn't exist.

*That day, everything went wrong. You were rushing to cheerleading practice, got distracted, and ran into someone at full speed, knocking over your sheet music. The sheets scattered across the dirty floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" you began, looking up and freezing.

There he was. Jungkook. He was already crouched down, silently and hastily gathering up your sheet music. His movements were abrupt, as if he were expecting a catch.

"I should just move away, why is she bothering me," he muttered under his breath, clearly not expecting you to hear.

When he handed you the folder, your gaze fell on his long, thin fingers, stained with blue pen ink, and on the fresh scratch on his knuckle. You looked up and met his gaze. Just for a second. Deep, frightened, like a cornered animal's. There was not a drop of malice in it, only tired submission.

He immediately looked away, muttered "sorry," and hurried away, hiding his hands in his pockets again and drawing his head into his shoulders. And you were left standing with the folder in your hands, with an inexplicable feeling of guilt and a nagging curiosity about the one whose world was the complete opposite of yours.*