Recovery (GOT7 fanfic)

Everyone Has a Breaking Point

The warning bell for class rang loud and clear, and could be easily heard from anywhere in the school, including the yard where Yugyeom and I were chatting. I sighed and glanced over to my heavy school bag that I had dumped on the floor carelessly earlier. I didn't want to get up, and I certainly didn't want to go to class.

"You have to keep coming to school," Yugyeom read my mind, and huffed with effort as he stood up. He straightened his blazer and re-did his scruffy tie. I gave him a look.

"It's the only way I'll stay sane," He laughed, and held out his hand to help me up. I took it gratefully, but still could only manage half a smile. In turn, his grin faded into one of disappointment.

I was a bad friend. I was a bad, negative, pessimist. I hated it.

He lowered down and picked up my school bag. "Don't," I said. "It's heavy,"

"It's no trouble!" Yugyeom's grin returned. I was relieved about that. I couldn't go infecting people with my negativity, because that just wouldn't be fair. If anything, Yugyeom should spread his happiness. Why wasn't it working? It was frustrating me.

He walked off and I let him be. After brushing some twigs and leaves off my skirt, I jogged to catch up to him. We walked together into the hallway, when I suddenly felt everyone staring at me. I looked around, and I was right. People were staring at me, at the two of us. Some were trying to cover their giggles with their hands, while some were laughing out in the open. My opinion was obviously insignificant to them.

My breath and pace quickened, and Yugyeom followed me. He lightly tapped my arm a few times, but I shrugged it off and kept my head down low. "Wait just a sec," He began. I turned around to face him, and I bumped into someone. It was a girl.

"Sorry," I murmured, not bothering to see who exactly it was. Whoever she was, I guarantee that she doesn't know me.

"Hey, you're that slut, right?"

I frowned and looked up at her. I had seen her earlier at lunch. I think her name was Soomin, or something along those lines.

"Fat. Ugly. Slut. Whore. Worthless. There are too many words to describe you. Which one's your favourite?" She had a smirk on her face, but I lowered my gaze before I was sick. Yugyeom was tugging on my arm, but I was frozen. Part of me wanted to let her finish. Let her abuse sink in.

I looked down as she shouted more insults at me, and I tried to look like I didn't care.

But then, I felt her fingers wrap tightly around my wrist. I buckled over and gagged at her grip. I couldn't breath. Why couldn't I breath? I tried to pull back, but she just snickered at me. Her grip did not falter one bit.

"You admit it though, don't you? It's all written on this," With her free hand, she held a piece of paper to my face. My eyes widened with realisation. How did she get it? It was in my notebook, I swear.

"Please..." I gasped for air.

She and her friends laughed. I could feel her perfectly manicured nails dig in, and I writhed in pain. I closed my eyes. It felt like the blood was pouring out again, but when I looked down, it wasn't.

"Stop!" It was Yugyeom, yelling in Soomin's face. She looked startled, but remained relentless. Then he pushed her.

With a slight smirk on her face, she fell back. Purposely, I'm sure. Anything to make her look like the victim. I was no longer the one everyone was staring at. People crowded around Soomin, cooing and sympathising with her, and Jackson was helping her up. She wiped her clearly dry eyes, as if there were tears to wipe away. I could see right through her. A faker can always see a fellow faker.

"What happened?" Jinyoung asked in a small voice.

"This freak's friend just pushed me out of nowhere!" She whimpered, pointing at Yugyeom, who rolled his eyes.

Jinyoung looked at me with sympathy. I wish he would have said something more, but I can understand why he didn't. Reputations are hard to build and easy to break.

I met his eyes briefly as I walked off brusquely with Yugyeom clinging to my side protectively. We went to our classroom, and there was a photocopy of my notes pinned on the door with cellotape. I died a little inside, and ripped it of the door forcefully.

"Don't look," Yugyeom said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Just wait outside for a minute," He replied, closing the door gently on me. I went against his will, and peeked around anyway. They were everywhere. Not only photocopies. There were photos of me, not particularly flattering ones, with harsh words written over my face in capital letters with a thick red marker. I turned away after one glance, and waited patiently. I used my time to keep the tears at bay.

Yugyeom opened the door, and sighed with a light smile. "All done,"

I could still see remnants of the posters, and the bin in the corner of the room was almost overflowing with shreds of them.

"Thank you," I told him.

He took my hand, and we sat down next to each other in our usual seats.

"Never listen to what they say. It's not true,"

Class began, and after I was hit by the first scrunched up paper filled with abuse, I instantly excused myself to go to the bathroom. Yugyeom looked concerned, and I'm almost sure he was. Jinyoung just looked guilty, and I'm positive he was.

I ripped even more posters off the bathroom mirrors and stalls one by one, shredding them to tiny, uneven pieces. Then I took a long, hard, look at myself in the mirror, and I could visualise the words plastered across my face. My hair hung limply around my face and shoulders, and a faint tinge of blue remained from when I dyed it blue, and then tried to dye it back to its original colour. I fumbled for the scissors in my pencil case, and I refused the urge to use them on my skin. Instead, I held them to my mop of grotesque hair, and cut it, roughly, and angrily.

I needed to change.