The classroom was suffocating. The stench of damp uniforms and cheap perfume permeated the air. It wasn't even December yet, and Shu Fei already despised every minute he breathed in the space.
School in general wasn't bad. It was the slow dread of knowing that sooner or later —
He felt a hand, slick with sweat, grip the back of his head before his face slammed into the desk. A metallic, wet taste bloomed in his mouth. His nose throbbed. It must have hit the desk first.
"Look at him. Never seen anyone as slow as that."
Faint voices jeered behind him. Shu Fei stayed still. He would pretend they didn't exist, and that it never happened.
"Man, you shouldn't touch ladies like that!"
"He's a guy, you wuss. And he's somehow better looking than you."
"Really, Xiao? I couldn't tell." The others were cackling.
It was the dread of when he would get called that–a flower vase*[1], helpless pretty boy, whatever they decided today–that gave him misery. He wouldn't admit it, but it clung to his skin more than physical blows.
Just five minutes ago, Shu Fei had just been laughing with Zhou Ningning and An Biyu over their surprisingly good group project mark. They left for tennis; he waved them off, half-packing his bag. Xiao must've seen that.
When the last period bell rang, Xiao and his friends wasted no time dragging him off among the hustle of rushing students into an empty classroom.
It was common knowledge that Xiao had a simmering thing for Ningning, and a disapproval of any boy other than him who made her smile. Combined with his contempt of the introverted Shu Fei, it didn't take a genius to figure out why he was getting tossed about now.
Shu Fei's eyes darted to the closed door, which happened to be soundproof. Actually, this was a good thing, because it meant no one would see him looking so unfortunate.
"Why do you even bother coming here? Looking like that, are you proud or something?" Hot breath blew in his left ear. He swallowed. If he waited long enough, this stupid, one-sided beatdown would be over, and it would turn into yesterday, into nonexistence.
"Can't you say something?" Someone pinched Shu Fei's chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing him to meet his glare. Shu Fei only stared emptily back up at him.
A door opened. "Wait for me later, guys. I'll —." Silence.
Then a pair of footsteps.
"Xiao." The voice cut through like ice. "Explain."
The sharp voice didn't sound like any school staff he knew, so it must've been a student. Yet Shu Fei had never heard a student sound so controlled and icy.
Everyone stared at the tall red-haired figure in the doorway, frozen.
Shu Fei tilted his head just enough to see a tall, red-haired figure striding towards them. He barely dared to breathe. An Cheng?
"Yo Class Prez, chill. We were just ah, uh..."
"Oh, I'll chill all right," An Cheng scoffed. "Don't even bother coming up with something. I really can't believe this."
There was some muttering, but his tone changed something in the air. He felt the boys back off before he saw them. A chubby eighth grader, shorter than Shu Fei himself, edged towards the door. The others followed like startled birds. Only Xiao lingered, reluctance twisting his features like a disgruntled babysitter herding unruly charges.
A slam, then silence. Shu Fei couldn't help but look up. Only the tall class president remained. He knew he looked like a miserable mess but didn't care.
"You. You didn't have to do that," Shu Fei murmured.
"Why wouldn't I?" An Cheng glanced at him . "You should get an ice pack for that, though."
He subconsciously relaxed his tensed shoulders. His nose and mouth still stung, and his throat felt dry. An Cheng passed him some tissues and asked if he really was fine.
Shu Fei got up to leave. He had to get his backpack from his locker before he left school. He closed the door and went past the classroom, slowing down to see An Cheng through the glass window. An Cheng pulled out a chair, now wearing a pair of gray headphones, textbooks tucked under the other arm. He looked like any other student, albeit a jarringly good-looking one.
When he stepped outside the school property, Shu Fei sighed, mainly in relief. The entire time, his heart rate had felt abnormally high. Being alone in the aura of An Cheng, class president and student council leader, was more than a little nerve-wracking. Especially since he just witnessed Shu Fei after he got his face bashed in.
As he walked back home, he checked his reflection in a car window. His dark eyes stared back. The only abnormality was the blood on his face that he had missed when cleaning up. It was starting to dry up.
—-
That night, Shu Fei sat at his desk, staring emptily at the computer. He was supposed to be working on an essay about the importance of demographics in marketing, but his tired mind refused to cooperate. The moment replayed again and again. The feeling of thick fingers gripping him all over, the burning humiliation. An Cheng's footsteps, that sharp voice befitting of a politician. How it cut through the messy laughter like an arrow.
He buried his face in his palms. Gah. This was getting nowhere.
'Age and gender are examples of demographics that can affect how a company chooses to advertise. Word choice, visual style, and medium all revolve around this.'
Shu Fei got up to make some coffee. He had to stay awake and lock in for the next few hours.
-
[1] *Flower vase (花瓶）- in slang, it can mean a female who looks pretty but lacks competency or depth