❝ punk's not dead ❞ byunghun & minho
Since the beginning of his enrollment he had never perceived the words tumbling from a professor’s mouth to be a foreign language, and yet today her syntax was a disjointed knot of strange sounds incomprehensible to his brain, as if her thoughts ran through a blender afore being vocalized as an array of scraps and obscure vocabulary. How vexing – his head was the ultimate enemy, arch nemesis a drum beat and fractured cranium, the thin skeleton and words forced into his bone marrow. Lack of sleep, when was the last time he had slept? Definitely not last night, had been too engrossed in a textbook in psychology, forwent rest in order to uncover that elusive answer.
Byunghun was ever so content in sacrificing health to encourage a spark, the illumination of a light bulb desperately sought out. Yet blatantly he ignored the elucidations of his obsessive behavior and broke the point of his pencil, graphite dust scattering across the page of incomplete half-thoughts and questions of ‘what?’ and ‘why?’ and ‘how am I not dead?’. The lesson was concluding, peers feeding supplies and books to their backpacks and encumbering the room with inconsistent chatter, but the petty talk too went over his head, the bits and pieces only interrupting his dilemma of confusion, possessing a mere vague awareness to what had been taught and what had been assigned to them this week in mutant history.
This was the first time something like this had happened in class, panic seized his heart and it’s possible he may die of cardiac arrest then and there – but more likely it was the fault of scare red blood cells, and his sigh is extended, feeble, and ultimately conquered by deprivations. “So,” He will swallow pride for a passing mark, later will take his frustration out on something, someone, connect his 3DS to the Wi-Fi and engage in some less-than-friendly Pokemon battles – lest he destroy a palpable object. Looking to the man to his right, and Byunghun hadn’t learned his name, only that he apparently had an affinity for sarcasm and recycling (so he was alright in his book), and briefly considered throwing himself out the window before opening his mouth.
Goddammit. Why did he let this happen. “Were you taking notes? Because if it’s no trouble, I’d like to borrow them – uh, the notes, I mean. Summaries and all that. Yeah...yep.” Awesome. Brilliant, way-to-go Byunghun.