NINETEEN | CHANGLIX

YEAR NINE

THE NINTH YEAR Changbin got into his first fight.

It was something he hadn't even realised he had the capability of doing, a line he hadn't even thought of crossing until he registered that he was on the other side, knuckles bruised and body unable to avoid the blanket of shame that suffocated him within its embrace.

Now seated outside the principle's office, his head hung low as he stared at his shoes, suprised to find that their worn out front now touched the ground. While usually, such a simple fact would've bought pure joy, he found it to be only a momentary distraction before the guilt seeped back through and bought down his mood once more.

Hearing his name called followed by the word 'enter', Changbin's hands carefully pushed the door open yet were unable to avoid the creaking sound that seemed to further fuel the room's tension. Upon doing he was revealed to his mother, who's eyes were as worn as the rusting hinges and his father, who's glance was as emotionless as it was barren. It was the first time silence had been shared between them since the Summer, yet it felt far too enforced, it's burdenous presence causing Changbin to flicker his gaze down once more.

He wished he had never been sent to that camp.

Fits had been thrown, escalating to arguments with words he had never thought of using, desperation and the inability to understand his parent's ignorance to his happiness clawed at him during every waking moment. He had tried everything to convince them not to send him away but all his cries had been ignored, only listened to by the walls of his blankets which he clung to every night, tears begging for a better tomorrow.

Camp should have been fun, sunsets and swimming, campfires and canoeing, serene nature by his side and starry nights above, but all that hadn't mattered when his stomach hurt from a terrible longing for a home that no longer existed, and his heart had hurt for his best friend who deserved much more than his lack of presence.

"Changbin," the principle sighed, the gesture made to snap him out of his thoughts and bring awareness back to the inconvenience he had caused, "Please take a seat."

Slowly he sat down between his parents, the action so familiar yet now so different when it wasn't followed by glowing faces and warming conversations.

Before the principle could even talk, his mother placed on a dimpled smile, almost convincing if Changbin didn't know better, "I'm terribly sorry for our son's behaviour, I don't know what's gotten into him as of recently."

Shaking his head the principle returned the smile, "Do not apologise, if anything somebody else should be doing that."

Changbin could feel their eyes on him, waiting for his reply. "I'm sorry sir," he mumbled, more in oblgation rather than sincerity. He felt guilty for his actions of course, and even guiltier that some part of him wanted to blame the adults that were only trying to give him a life in this world.

Everything was confusingly futile, like a broken compass that lacked a direction but carried hope. Everything was an act of practised politeness to fit into the normal expectations. From the principle's manners that disguised his lack of care, to his mother's sympathy that was painted on to represent a deep concern that didn't even exist.

It lead nowhere and he hated every second of it.

"Changbin, you punched him first," the principle spoke, "If there's any explanation you have to speak now."

Changbin didn't dare look up.

The older man tapped his pen idly against the desk before sighing, "Look... I know you're a good kid but I think it's best if you have a few days off."