Nobody Knows | Jeon Jungkook

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Another two weeks have passed after the speech about drugs was given at the university. For everyone else, life goes on as if nothing had happened and a student had not died. I can't blame them for that, after all, they didn't know Namjoon like I knew him. Of course, he wasn't like a best friend or someone I've known for years, but still, he was a friend to me and the most important thing; a human life.

But life goes on, with or without him. It's sad, of course, because he was so young and had what was probably a long life ahead of him if he hadn't made that stupid decision. It's still a mystery to me why he would do such a thing. He could have, if he needed mental help, just talked to me or someone else.

Not that I am a person who can find the right words for difficult situations or have a clue how to deal with mental problems, but I would have done what I could do. There was too much heroin found in his system, probably coming from the fact that he didn't know how to dose it. And that shows that he didn't really have anything to do with it usually.

His room was given to another student after only a week. A boy who studies no idea what, but I couldn't care less. I didn't talk to him, just a quick hi and that was it. Namjoon's body was sent back to Korea to be buried, which is why I couldn't go to his funeral, but whether I would have gone is another question, for sure.

I hate funerals and I may have only been to one so far if I don't remember wrong. All that sadness and melancholy that reigns there settles on me like a dark shadow and that's why I never go to one. This life is too short to feel so much pain. I prefer to get drunk instead. Not that I have lost anyone important so far for whom I have felt so much grief.

I managed to deliver my assignment on time despite all the distractions, which amazed even me. I didn't know that I had room for studying despite the confusion in my head. I can't judge yet if it turned out well, but I'll see in a moment.

I'm sitting in the lecture hall, leaning back in my chair, waiting for the professor who hasn't arrived yet. Sitting in the back row allows me to have an overview of all the students and I realize why I have no one to do the assignments with. They are all idiots here.

I've watched two students fight over the last seat in the front row, I don't think I need to explain why I don't want to have anything to do with such nerds. Apart from the fact that they probably wouldn't want to have anything to do with me either. So it's all based on reciprocity. Besides, I've proven to myself that I can do it without help.

One thing I like about myself is that I am competitive and goal-oriented. No matter how much I hate studying, I hate losing or looking stupid even more. It makes me mad at myself and the fire burns inside me when I can't prove people wrong. I just hope the outcome matches that mindset and it's not another flop.

"Good morning, everyone." the professor, Mr. Smith, greets, coming in through the door and setting his brown leather bag down on his chair. Does every professor actually have the same wardrobe?

I watch as he pulls out a large stack of papers and places them on his desk before clapping his hands and chalking today's topic on the board with his not-quite-legible handwriting. I wince as the chalk makes a squeaking sound through the hall and the lesson begins with a discussion.

This time I even take some notes to make it easier for the next assignment. The books in the library are sometimes good for nothing since you'd probably have to study separately for them to understand what's written there. Or it's just my brain not really being able to process the information.

"I have the results of your last assignments," he says, and I only now realize that the lesson is about to end. Lectures don't take that long after all if you pay attention. "I have to say that the results this time are not as good as last time. But it's still acceptable, sort of."