Two weeks later

Kyong sunk into the chair of his calculus class. Spitball after spitball had been flying at his head for the last fifteen minutes. He would have turned around and glared at the perpetrator, but the last time he did that, he ended up with something worse. So instead, he attempted to get dried-up bits of paper out of his hair after each calculus class. This was not the life he was used to, nor was it the treatment a prince deserved. But right now, in his life, he was reduced to bare essentials, both in food and leisure. Courtier had gone back home now and he was coping alright on his own. It wasn’t the palace, but it was home. For now. He had invited Enock and Elliot over a few times and they had gushed about how great his place was and how he had an unsupervised living situation with free alcohol in bounds. “It has a cellar, for Christ's Sake!” Elliot had said, before quickly doing the rosary across his chest. Funny, those small habits Kyong had picked up on. His new friends had such different priorities and existentialism that made up who they were. When he looked at them, he wondered what his were. All that aside, they did have something in common - basketball. It brought them together and allowed him to stay inside this circle that was the popular crowd. 

He shifted his feet on the floor to push his chair back. Class was over and it was now time to endure the next stage of the micro-bullying that he endured every school day, on his way to basketball. The repercussions of posting that picture to Instagram, had been that the entire school had found out that he was a prince, and that the occasional reporter followed him into school each day until they were locked outside. Not too bad of a price to pay, when you considered the inside job that was the kids in this school. He walked past the lockers to find his own but was shoved into them by yet another kid he thought was higher in importance than a prince. “Hey prince, where’s your army of protectors now?” a boy spat at his, now adding to the mess of dried spitball that was the back of his head. His bag fell off his shoulder and onto the floor. When he bent to pick it up it was kicked into his feet, crushing the contents of his food. The last of the Korean food Courtier had cooked and frozen for him. Now he had to fend for himself on the small allowance he had and the food that was delivered weekly, and was in no way like the Korean that he was used to. He turned away, careful not to make eye contact. He knew what that got him when he did. He learned quickly - making eye contact got you the contents of the toilet in your locker. 

He ran to his locker, swapped his bag for his gym gear as quickly as he could and jogged to the auditorium. “Dude, what happened to you?” Enock was shaking his head as he approached.

“Damn, those bullies got you again? You need to switch to our classes.” Elliot answered Enock's question before Kyong could. 

“How do I do that, without a parent or guardian?” Kyong was lost. He did want to change classes so badly, but they didn’t really understand your parents leaving you alone in an apartment when you were a teenager, in LA.

“I don’t know, dude. You might just have to ask the office lady.” Elliot was looking between the ball and Kyong’s eyes now, eager to start throwing the ball around. 

Kyong rolled his eyes, “Okay, let me just grab my AirPods. He dug around in his bag until he found them, wiggling them into his ears until they sat snug. He quickly scrolled through Spotify until he found BLACKPINK and tapped the first song with his thumb. “Okay, ready.” 

Kyong started dribbling the ball first, passing Enock and heading toward Elliot. Elliot tried to block him but he bypassed his attempt and… airball. “Damn! Maybe you’re not the prince after all…” Elliot leered. Kyong was too lost in his song to care, only having it turned down enough for almost muted voices to filter through. He went for the ball again but Elliot got a hold of it this time and got a wedgie. Kyong poked his tongue out as Elliot jumped up and down in an attempt to remove the ball from its place between the backboard and the hoop. Enock laughed hysterically at his two failed attempts before it fell free. “Pass it!” Enock called at Elliot, bopping up and down impatiently. Elliot threw the ball into his chest and he caught it with his sternum, grunting. “You are going to pay for that.” He gritted his teeth but his tone remained playful, being the only one of them to score, slamming the ball in a dunk. He was the only one of them taller than six feet. “I thought you lot were meant to be pro basketball players?” Enock bragged, turning to Elliot, “Told you i’d get you back.”

After a few more rounds of practice, Kyong found himself looming over his bag, procrastinating leaving. He knew that the second he left this auditorium, he was destined for a line of bullies and when he left the school gates, Paparazzi. That was until Enock jogged over, “hey, we are all going to my place this afternoon if you want to join. It’s nothing compared to your bachelor pad, but it’s home to me and my eight siblings.” Enock let out a stifled laugh.

“You really have eight siblings?” Kyong gawked, pulling out his AirPods.

“Not really, I have four, but close enough. So you in?”

“Now?”

“Yeah. Why? You got something else planned?”

“No,” Kyong said plainly, thinking about going home to an empty apartment and drinking his weight in Gin. 

Enock slapped him on the back, “Then let’s go. You’re about to get your first look at real down town LA. The projects.”

“The projects?”

“Welcome to the Ghetto.” Enock slapped him on the back almost twenty minutes later. Paparazzi had followed them most of the way to Inglewood but had started to dwindle when a homeless man came lingering and asking if anyone had booze. Kyong didn’t blame the paparazzi this once. He was scared too. Both Elliot and Enock walked in casually as Enock opened the wooden fence that barely still hung to its hinges. Kyong fast stepped to be right behind them. This was far more taxing on his well-being than any decrease in allowance or business meeting and he was pretty sure he was going to get robbed on the way home. He wished the boys had told him to not wear Gucci.