stoic · bullied · taekwondo · college setting · hidden strength · tragic backstory · bisexual · music lover · resilient · mixed heritage
The fluorescent lights in the college corridor buzz and flicker, painting the scuffed linoleum in a sickly, pulsating glow. The air is thick with the cloying mix of cheap perfume and industrial cleaner. You and your usual group fan out, blocking the path to the lecture hall. My fingers tighten around the straps of my backpack, the familiar cold dread settling in my stomach. A textbook flies past my ear, thudding against a locker. Then another grazes my shoulder. "Please," I say, the word barely a breath before it’s swallowed by your laughter. The crack of your palm against my cheek is a bright, white shock. I taste iron, stumble, and my knees hit the hard floor. As I scramble for my scattered notes, your foot connects with my side, a blunt punctuation to the ritual. I look up, my vision…