Chapter 7

There was something wrong with Jaeyoung Jang. In the past, the senior had acted like his life’s mission was to pile as much stress as possible onto Sangwoo’s shoulders, but the intensity of his harassment had abruptly declined. Now, excluding the low-grade irritation Sangwoo felt from having to sit next to the guy during class or be around him in general, he found his stress level was a solid zero. The change had first been apparent on the Monday after the laptop incident. They’d been sitting in Intermediate Chinese, practicing some expressions as part of an in-class activity where they’d been instructed to work with a classmate nearby. Shockingly enough, Jaeyoung had actually proved helpful. Originally, Sangwoo had attempted to partner up with the girl to his left, but she’d turned him down in favor of working with her friend. That had been disappointing enough, but he’d been even more depressed to find that he’d wasted so much time talking to her that everyone else around him had already found someone else to work with. In the end, he’d had no other choice but to turn his gaze to Jaeyoung, who’d been leaning back in his chair with a mocking smile on his face. “Gongche dao Shou’er zhan duo chang shijian?” Sangwoo started out, doing his best to ask how long it would take to get to Seoul Station by bus. Jaeyoung sat there and listened silently, then commented, “Not very good at languages, huh?” Ignoring him, Sangwoo moved on to the next sample conversation. As long as he got some practice, it’d be fine. The first sentence was: Do you want to see a movie with me tomorrow? “Women mingtian yiqi qu kan dianying ba?” Jaeyoung stared at him for a moment, then smiled mysteriously. After quickly clearing his throat, he responded, “Hăo ā! Naˇ yí bù?” “That’s not the correct response,” Sangwoo said with a frown. According to the textbook, it was supposed to be: I cannot. I am busy tomorrow. Honestly, should he even be surprised? Of course Jaeyoung would try and mess with him—at this point, it felt like being a troll was a part of the asshole’s programming. “Oh, you know what I said? Tell me, then.” “You agreed, then asked what movie we should watch. Now say the right response.” Jaeyoung snickered. “You’re good at reading, writing, and listening, but your speaking skills… Whew! I can’t believe you made it to Intermediate Chinese.” “I’m imitating what’s written in the textbook word for word.” “Okay, but language is all about communication. You’ve gotta make an effort to learn how native speakers actually talk to one another.” What are you, the professor? Sangwoo thought crankily. Still, as much as he hated to admit it, the memory of receiving that A- in Chinese 101 during the first semester of freshman year haunted him. In a sea of A+’s, it had been the only lower mark. And just like Jaeyoung had pointed out, it’d been his horrible pronunciation that got him there. Jaeyoung pointed at a sentence and said, “Try reading this.” Sangwoo obediently made his best effort. He thought he’d read the sentence quite accurately, but judging by the way Jaeyoung pressed a hand over his lips to hold back laughter, the other man didn’t agree. “Why are you laughing?” Sangwoo demanded. “I said it correctly.” Seeing the unamused look on Sangwoo’s face, Jaeyoung forced his face back into neutral lines. “I wasn’t laughing at you. I just thought you sounded kinda cu—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Anyway, you can keep pronouncing the first syllable that way, but you need to hold it a bit longer.” He gave a demonstration, and Sangwoo repeated it after him. “Good. For the second syllable, hmm… Imagine a plane traveling up at a diagonal. Like this.” Jaeyoung raised his arm at an angle and mimicked a jet taking off as he verbalized the correct sound. When Sangwoo repeated it after him, he erupted: “That’s it! You’re following along great.” In his excitement, Jaeyoung reached over to pat the back of Sangwoo’s head a few times, as if in praise. It took Sangwoo entirely off guard—that spot on his scalp felt tingly and strange. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. In his science classes, Sangwoo had learned that the human body had evolved to protect itself from the many dangers posed by nature. With that in mind, his reaction to Jaeyoung’s touch was only natural—his body must have interpreted it as a threat and instinctively tensed up. Not that the asshole in question had noticed. He wasn’t even looking at Sangwoo anymore, his attention fixated on his own hands as he moved them around to aid his demonstration. It was like he had become a professor himself. “For the third syllable, your pitch has gotta come down, then go back up. Imagine the sound flowing in a scooping motion, almost. Try it.” “Er…” “No, no, you’re messing it up again. Let’s go back to the second syllable.” “Ni.” “Come on, dude, you were doing so well! Are you malfunctioning now or what? If you can’t get this, you’re definitely not getting a hundred on the skit.” Sangwoo took out the desk divider from his backpack, but not to use it for its original purpose—he needed something to fan his face with. As he cooled himself off, Jaeyoung briefly turned around and rummaged through his bag, then handed a piece of paper full of simplified Chinese characters to Sangwoo. Examining the text closer, Sangwoo quickly realized exactly what it was: a script involving a Qing dynasty merchant, a customer, and a person being scammed. His eyes widened. Not only was everything neatly organized, but Jaeyoung had included pinyin for every line as well. Narrowing his eyes, Sangwoo went over the script even more carefully. All the sentences had been adjusted according to context, and any rough transitions had been smoothed out with what appeared to be original lines. It was a stark contrast to their initial draft, which had been laden with example sentences. Even if I put everything I had into the script, I couldn’t have made it this good, Sangwoo realized, turning to look at Jaeyoung. And it would have taken hours and hours of searching around on the internet to get anywhere close. The asshole smiled at him playfully. “What, no compliments?” “Did you get rid of all the profanities?” “Of course I did.” Or so he claims. Sangwoo didn’t trust him in the slightest. Fortunately, the professor happened to be walking by, and he requested that she look over the revised version. She gave both of them a doubtful glance as she took the script and read it. Then, gradually, a smile crept over her face, growing wider until she burst out into a full-blown laugh. “What do you think?” Jaeyoung asked, spinning a pen between his fingers. “You managed to get rid of all the vulgar language. Good job,” she said. “I have a feeling this will be a fantastic skit. Maybe I should record it…” “Sangwoo was the mastermind behind it.” “You keep saying that, but I find it hard to believe he’d know language that foul.” “Foul?! That’s a bit harsh, Professor!” She chuckled and lightly placed her hand on Sangwoo’s shoulder. “Well, I’ll be looking forward to seeing the finished product next week.” Sangwoo frowned. Something was wrong. He didn’t want to admit it—he really, really didn’t—but he would be an idiot if he kept ignoring it. Jaeyoung was being…nice. return 0; The second the lecture for Algorithms was over, Jaeyoung shot out of his seat and stretched. “Time to eat!” he announced after a yawn. There was a ridiculously gleeful note to his tone, as if he’d actually paid attention during class instead of sleeping through the whole thing. Sangwoo had become accustomed to his new routine by now. He and Jaeyoung would walk down the hallway of the engineering building together, descend the staircase side by side, then go to the dining hall and have lunch together. However, contrary to his expectations, it seemed the third step wasn’t to be that day. “Sadly, I promised someone else I’d hang out with them today, Sangwoo,” Jaeyoung announced, having stopped right outside the doors of the engineering building. “Sorry.” The turn of events was unexpected, but Sangwoo found Jaeyoung’s announcement weirder than anything else. Why was that asshole acting like they’d had plans to eat lunch together? It wasn’t like they had any sort of preexisting arrangement. Deciding there was an urgent need to dispel the misunderstanding, Sangwoo looked straight at Jaeyoung and unenthusiastically cheered, “Yay…” He then clapped five times in applause. Unfortunately, his sarcasm didn’t have the intended effect. Jaeyoung just smirked at him, gave him a can of Black Holic, and studied him like a concerned parent sending their kid off to a summer camp. “Make sure you eat a proper meal and drink enough water! Also, don’t forget that you’re supposed to chew everything fully before you swallow. And no following people in white vans, okay?” Was the deadbeat trying to console him or something? Sangwoo’s eyes narrowed. “There is something I’ve been meaning to ask: Have you lost it?” Jaeyoung smiled at him and gave Sangwoo a pat on the head. The gears in Sangwoo’s head screeched to a halt. By the time he had enough presence of mind to decide the asshole needed a full dressing down, his adversary had already scurried off. “Are you malfunctioning now or what?” Jaeyoung had asked during Intermediate Chinese. Malfunctioning, Sangwoo mouthed to himself. During that class, Jaeyoung had criticized his pronunciation and basically placed a curse on him, saying he wouldn’t get a hundred on the skit. However, that particular word was what’d stuck with him the most. Malfunctioning. Since when had Jaeyoung started invading his personal space? Sangwoo wasn’t sure, but one thing he did know was that the other man was getting way, way too close. Casual intimacy, which was something Sangwoo had never had reason to become accustomed to, always made him freeze up like a system with a critical error. I’ll yell at him the next time he tries it, he decided, his breath coming out in short, heated huffs. He was angry, obviously. What other emotion could he possibly be feeling? With a pounding heart, Sangwoo stormed across campus. Unfortunately, he hadn’t made it very far when he caught sight of Jaeyoung again. He was standing in front of a bench with two other people—a guy and a girl. Judging by the way the guy was doubled over with laughter and the playful smack the chortling girl gave Jaeyoung’s back, he must have just told some sort of joke. As Sangwoo watched, Jaeyoung put the guy in a headlock and they both collapsed to the ground, laughing even harder. Sangwoo forced himself to look away. I am in a good mood, he told himself forcefully. After all, what reason did he have to be in a bad one? Now that Jaeyoung had gone to hang out with his friends, Sangwoo could finally enjoy his lunch at the appropriate time without getting indigestion or being disrupted. He was in a good mood. Of course he was. In the end, lunch proved both peaceful and completely uneventful. Standing up from his table—occupied by only one other student—Sangwoo put away his tray and looked over at the clock. The hands read 12:28 PM. He was right on schedule. Opening up the can of Black Holic Jaeyoung had presented him, Sangwoo walked out of the dining hall. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been able to finish lunch on time. Once again, the world around him felt entirely familiar—from the angle of the sun in the sky, the taste of the coffee in his hand, down to even the general atmosphere. By the time Sangwoo finished walking the loop of his usual walking path, he felt delightfully refreshed. He tossed the empty can of Black Holic in the second trash can in front of the natural science building, then headed to his next destination. I am in a good mood, he reminded himself. Really, I am. As it turned out, the library was fairly empty that day, which meant he would likely be able to study entirely uninterrupted. Sangwoo requested the books he needed before flipping through some new titles, then checked out a new programming text and took his reserved seat. Am I really going to be able to read all of these? he wondered, feeling a bit regretful. For some reason, he’d been struggling just to keep up with his classes this semester. Still, his doubts didn’t stop him from placing the thick books in his backpack. He pulled out the electrical engineering textbook that he was planning on studying next while he was at it. The table where he was sitting was completely empty, but Sangwoo found himself staring at the empty chair next to him for a moment before he turned his attention to his studies. Condensers, capacitors, inductors, direct currents, alternating currents… His gaze wandered over the words on the page aimlessly. While his mind automatically deciphered the characters, for some reason, he couldn’t seem to comprehend the text. Who cares about stupid currents? he thought to himself, then flinched in surprise. Never in his life had he ever gotten annoyed at an academic text before. Straightening his back, Sangwoo did his best to reorient himself. But no matter how many times he reread the paragraphs before his eyes, the core concepts continued to elude him. It was because Jaeyoung had made him fall so far behind that he was having such a difficult time, he decided. It had to be. return 0; Unfortunately, despite how crappy Sangwoo felt, time waited for no man. The next day rolled in without an ounce of mercy. At first, things seemed like they were going to play out just as they always did, but minor differences began to crop up. For one, though Jaeyoung’s usual leather shoulder bag was sitting on the desk next to his as usual, the chair itself remained empty even twenty minutes after class started. Sangwoo could have moved it aside and reclaimed his rightful seat, of course, but the absence of his saboteur was making him feel slightly uneasy. Finally, at exactly twenty-two minutes into the hour, Jaeyoung stumbled through the back door of the classroom. The professor teaching Embedded Systems gave the asshole a death glare as he slumped on top of his desk, seemingly unconcerned by his extreme tardiness. From the smell wafting off his nemesis, Sangwoo was pretty sure he’d gotten wasted the night before. Was it with those people hanging out around him at the bench yesterday? he wondered for some unknown reason. But instead of asking that, he whispered, “Why were you late?” Admittedly, it was kind of a stupid thing to say. The answer was obvious. Jaeyoung glanced up at Sangwoo, not moving from his slouched position. “Why do you think?” he asked in a rather pointed tone. “Because you were out late drinking?” “Bingo,” Jaeyoung drawled. That was when the question that had been bubbling away in the back of Sangwoo’s throat finally slipped from between his lips. “Who were you with?” Though Jaeyoung looked too hungover to even lift his head, his eyes began to sparkle with mirth. “Hmm? Why do you care?” “I’m curious to know who was stupid enough to drink with you.” The smile on Jaeyoung’s face widened. “Aw… You can just say you wanna get hammered with me, you know.” “I would never.” Sangwoo tried to turn his attention back to the lecture, but everything the professor said went right over his head. He wanted to blame it on the distracting asshole next to him, but he could be honest enough with himself to admit he’d lost his focus on the lecture long before Jaeyoung’s arrival. The more likely culprit was the strange emotion that had been haunting him lately. He couldn’t quite define it, but it was always accompanied by a sense of vertigo, like his whole world had been turned on its head. Even as his mind whirled, Sangwoo couldn’t keep himself from glancing over at the back of Jaeyoung’s head. It was clear that he wouldn’t be able to focus anytime soon. He was going to miss out on learning most of the material for the day again. Even after class ended, Jaeyoung didn’t stir. He just remained where he was, draped over his desk like washed-up seaweed. Sangwoo knew he could just abandon Jaeyoung and go to his next class, but he called out anyway. “Hey.” There was no response. After a short pause, he said again, “Hey, so…” Without lifting his head, Jaeyoung reached out and snatched hold of Sangwoo’s arm with one hand. The move immediately made Sangwoo feel severely uncomfortable, but his unease went entirely unnoticed by Jaeyoung. The hungover man continued to cling to him, even going so far as to grab onto him with his other hand as well. “Think I’m gonna…hurl,” Jaeyoung muttered, barely managing to get to his feet. He placed a can of Black Holic on the desk and slowly staggered out of the room. Sangwoo picked up the coffee and headed to his next class, where he was greeted with the familiar sight of a backpack sitting on top of his favorite desk. For the very first time, he removed it and hung it over the back of the chair, reclaiming his rightful spot. It might be rude to move an object someone had put down to save a seat, but that point was moot when you knew said person wasn’t going to show. Surprisingly, despite this victory, Sangwoo found he didn’t feel particularly satisfied. Worse, he found he couldn’t focus on the contents of the Algorithms lecture, either, even though the topics covered that day were relatively easy. I wonder if he’s throwing up in a bathroom somewhere. Of course, Jaeyoung’s current state was his own fault. He was the one who’d decided to drink so much on a school night. But still…Sangwoo had to admit that he felt slightly bad for him, given how much he seemed to be suffering. Suddenly, a situation from the past popped into his mind. The logical structure was nearly identical: Jaeyoung had done a stupid thing, and had thereafter suffered the consequences. But back then, when the asshole hadn’t been able to graduate, Sangwoo hadn’t felt an ounce of pity for him. He’d been entirely certain Jaeyoung deserved everything he got. A wave of confusion swept over Sangwoo. The realization that cracks were beginning to appear in his logic seized him in its grip and refused to let go. Even when class ended and he walked to the dining hall, he found himself haunted by the sensation. By the time Sangwoo entered the dining hall, his mind had gone entirely blank. He only sat down because there was an empty seat and only ate the soup on his tray because there was a spoon in his hand. When he saw his bowl was empty, he stood up. Sangwoo’s movements were completely mechanical as he scraped the leftover bits of his food into the compost bin and placed the empty tray on the conveyor belt. Then, after situating his reusable spoon and pair of chopsticks in their respective containers to be washed, he blindly headed over to the water fountain and drank a glass of water. There had been no deviations to his normal routine, so he wrapped up just as the clock hit 12:28 PM. He passed through the next few minutes like a machine on autopilot. It was only once he’d entered the convenience store and stopped in front of the fridge that he came back to himself and realized there were still no cans of Black Holic inside. “Hi there,” the store owner said, noticing him standing there. She walked over and gave Sangwoo an apologetic pat on the shoulder. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Don’t worry, I made sure to order a new shipment of your coffee. It should be arriving on Monday.” “Okay,” Sangwoo responded, pushing her hand away. “I know you must be craving it,” the store owner continued. “I feel bad you have to go without your favorite drink. I mean, you used to have a can every single day…” The words drifted right through one of Sangwoo’s ears and out the other. His eyes were on the fridge—not the fifth shelf, which was empty, but the one above it. On it sat a bottle with a label that read: Dawn777 – The #1 Hangover Cure We’ve got your back, party animals! He reached out without even thinking about it, then curled his hand into a fist and forced it back to his side. But almost immediately, the same disobedient hand traveled up again, and he was forced to return it to its original position. It was like the appendage had gained a mind of its own—it refused to follow any of his brain’s commands. A brief battle played out, ultimately ending in his brain’s defeat. Having fully usurped control, the triumphant hand reached out and opened the fridge. The store owner watched as his fingers wrapped around the Dawn777. “Oh, did you go out drinking last night?” she asked. “You know what—why don’t you just take it? Hopefully it’ll make you feel better about not having your coffee.” This left Sangwoo in a bit of a predicament. He’d acquired a free can of hangover cure, but he didn’t have any idea what to do with it. He was about to propose a trade—perhaps the store owner would be willing to just give him the drink’s value in cash instead?—but the owner had already made his way back behind the checkout counter. Upon exiting the convenience store, Sangwoo went on his usual walk, sipping on the coffee he’d gotten from Jaeyoung earlier that morning as he strolled along. When he reached the natural sciences building, he tossed his empty can of coffee in the second trash bin, then let his feet take him to the library. There, he requested some new titles and checked some books out before heading to his reserved seat. When he opened his backpack to grab his study materials, he saw the bottle of Dawn777 resting between two textbooks. First, he extracted the book he needed and placed it on the desk at a perfect angle. Then he pulled out the hangover cure, examining the bottle carefully. We’ve got your back, party animals! Party animal… The moniker immediately reminded him of Jaeyoung, staggering around the classroom like a drunkard. No one else who came to his mind seemed to fit the title. Trying to erase Jaeyoung from his thoughts, Sangwoo attempted to visualize a party. When that failed, he turned to picturing various animals. But no matter how hard he tried, the asshole wouldn’t get out of his head. For what felt like forever, Sangwoo just sat in his chair, staring straight ahead. Then he sprang up, grabbed the Dawn777, and nearly raced down the library stairs. He strode across the building’s lobby with hurried steps. Problem-solving was something Sangwoo enjoyed. Of course, this particular problem had nothing to do with him, but he could still solve it—at least, if the words printed on the bottle in his hand were true. The drink did promise to cure hangovers, after all. There were holes in this logic, of course. It was possible that Jaeyoung had already ingested a hangover cure. Or the Dawn777 may not work as well as advertised. Not to mention that Jaeyoung might have already gone home. Doubts formed in Sangwoo’s mind one after another, but he continued walking. Since he didn’t know where Jaeyoung was, he’d just leave the drink in the drama clubroom. That was the most he could do for the other man—and anyway, he wasn’t obligated to do anything else. Sangwoo was nearing the student center when he saw someone in the distance. His feet slowed to a stop. The figure was so far away that he couldn’t even make out the man’s facial features, but he could see the vague sight of the man’s eyes and nose crinkling in laughter. Even the way the man’s hands moved through the air and the slight bend in his legs was familiar. His green coat was sprawled on the ground. There, before Sangwoo’s eyes, was Jaeyoung, splayed out to the point he was taking up an entire bench. A girl with blond bobbed hair was standing in front of him, arms crossed. Jaeyoung still looked pretty hungover, but he looked much better than he had during class. He rubbed his stomach with an exaggerated expression of pain, and the girl burst out laughing. When Jaeyoung made some comment that Sangwoo couldn’t hear, she playfully punched his arm. He laughed, she laughed, they both laughed— It was too much for Sangwoo. Mind going blank for the second time that day, he spun around and began to walk back the way he’d come, his feet on autopilot. When he finally snapped back to his senses, he was in front of the futsal field. There was a construction worker there, the same one who’d called out to him a while back. Sangwoo approached the man without hesitation. The worker blinked at him in surprise. “Whoa, hey there! You’re never here around this time!” “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Sangwoo said, then thrust the drink at him. “This is for you.” “Huh? A hangover cure…? I’ve actually gone sober—” “Just take it.” Having successfully discarded the Dawn777, Sangwoo went straight back to the library. He’d never wasted so much time in his life—not even during the past few days when wasting time had started to become a sort of pattern. Just how many seconds, minutes, and hours had he sent swirling down the drain? Overcome with self-recrimination, his heart pounded away in his chest. It was when he was rummaging around in his backpack for his pencil pouch that it happened—Sangwoo saw his phone screen light up. The device didn’t make a sound, as it was on mute, but he’d undeniably received a text. And Sangwoo almost never received texts. He glared at the screen, reading the short texts over and over again. Finally, he tapped on the reply button, but couldn’t decide what to say. What a relief. I’m happy to hear that. Please go home early every day going forward. None of the drafts felt right, so he erased every single one. In the end, he simply typed “Okay.” and threw his phone back in the bag. Jaeyoung seemed to be suffering under a terrible delusion. It was either that, or the asshole was just messing with him as usual. Don’t cry? Why in the world would Sangwoo cry about the biggest disruption in his life disappearing from his sight? return 0; “Morning, Sangchoo,” Jihye said, plopping herself down in the chair next to Sangwoo fifteen minutes before their Pop Culture and Cultural Theory class. He just gave her a nod and turned his gaze back to the thick textbook. But Jihye was relentless. “Wow, look at you studying hard! I don’t think we have a single exam over the next few weeks.” “I’m reading ahead.” “I wish I could, too, but everything’s so confusing.” Though Jihye continued a steady stream of dialogue next to him, Sangwoo found his level of distraction was at a record low compared to when Jaeyoung was present—including when Jaeyoung had been asleep. Actually, now that he thought about it, the deadbeat had been disrupting his focus even when he wasn’t even there. “You know, you look super upset right now,” Jihye mused. Sangwoo completely ignored her. “Here, I have something that’ll make you feel better.” Jihye shoved her phone in his face—the screen displayed various pictures of a small white dog, all taken from different angles. Sangwoo stared at them blankly. “Not a fan? How about this one, then?” She swiped to one side of the screen, revealing a picture of an orange cat. Sangwoo waited patiently, hoping she would move the phone away soon. But to his dismay, Jihye just kept swiping through different pictures of fluffy animals. Then, out of nowhere, one photo caught his attention. “Wait,” he said. “What was that?” “Huh?” Jihye went back to the picture that he had pointed out—an image of a keyboard. “Oh… I took a screenshot of this while shopping online. I guess I put it in the wrong folder.” Sangwoo reached out and zoomed in on the keyboard, examining it carefully. It was a black and red TKL model, likely a special edition judging by the LED lights embedded behind each key. “This is a Filcom AX8990, Honeybee edition.” “What?” “It’ll cost you more, but it should be durable since it has Berry MX switches. The tactile feedback should be pleasant, and it supports simultaneous input, too. Overall, it’s a good product. You might want to reconsider because of the LED lights, though. Personally, I find them distracting. What kind of switches are you looking for?” “Um… Well, I would be working on documents for the most part.” “I would recommend reds, then. They’re much less noisy than some of the other switches. If you want something with a decent amount of tactile sensation that’s still quiet, try browns. Blues are the switches preferred by gamers.” “Right? That’s what I heard!” Jihye exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically. “Should I get the red switches, then?” After a moment of contemplation, Sangwoo responded, “Just so you know, the market price for this is one hundred and ninety-eight thousand won, but it was released a long time ago. It shouldn’t be too hard to find used ones. You could probably find one in good condition for a hundred thousand won.” “Ohhh, okay! Where do you buy used keyboards?” The rest of the time left until class started was spent explaining to Jihye how to buy used electronics online and giving her helpful tips. Sangwoo would have ended the conversation earlier, but he couldn’t find the right time to do so. Jihye was listening too intently—she was even taking notes. “You’re a walking encyclopedia, Sangwoo!” “I wouldn’t say that,” he replied, thinking it was a strange comment for her to make. Just then, the professor walked into the room, and Sangwoo whipped his gaze back to his textbook. About a minute after class started, Jihye silently placed a torn-out page of her notebook on top of the text he’d been reading. What am I, her personal trash can? he thought with deep annoyance—but then he saw something was written on the piece of paper. Thanks for the info, Sangchoo!! :) Let me know if you have any questions that I can answer in the future. I’d love to help ;) He wrote “Okay.” on the edge of the paper, then gave it back. But even as he did, he wondered what he would ever need to ask Jihye. If he ever had questions about something, he typically turned to books or the internet for answers over other people. Plus, Jihye was only a college student—due to her major, she might understand topics that fell under the humanities umbrella better than him, but how could her knowledge compare to the collective intelligence found on the internet or in an academic text? Although…there was one area where she had decidedly more expertise than him, wasn’t there? Sangwoo mentally put a pin in the question that had surfaced in his head, then turned his attention back to the lecture. He’d ask her about it during the break. return 0; “I have something I want to discuss with you,” Sangwoo began as soon as the class’s short recess started. “It’s about…him.” Immediately, Jihye turned toward him. Straightening up to her full height, she gave him a serious nod. “Him who?” “That, uh…Jaeyoung Jang.” “Oh, got it! Go on.” “It looks like he has a girlfriend.” Sangwoo paused. He’d only just started speaking, but he found himself unsure of how to go on. Jihye had offered to answer questions for him—but though the thing he was curious about had felt like a question in his head, once he’d tried to put it into words, it’d become more of a tentative statement instead. Fortunately, Jihye didn’t seem to mind. “Hmm… He doesn’t, as far as I’m aware,” she responded with a smile. “It’s been a year or so since he broke up with his last girlfriend. She was a law student, but she’s graduated now. Honestly, I had a bit of a girl crush on her. She was so smart, she was basically a prodigy, suuuper pretty, and her family was absolutely rolling in it.” It was exactly the answer Sangwoo had been looking for. And conveniently, he’d gotten a bunch of extra information on top of it without having to even input another query. “How do you know all of that stuff?” he asked. “Mostly from social media, but I’ve heard rumors.” “What kind of rumors?” Jihye started chattering once again. A bunch of the information she offered was useless: An entertainment agency had apparently tried to recruit Jaeyoung as an actor when he was twenty years old, he’d briefly worked as a model, his girlfriend from freshman year was now a famous singer… Realizing that Sangwoo was starting to zone out, Jihye stopped, clearing her throat awkwardly. “I’m not, like, interested in him or anything. One of my friends is totally head over heels for the guy, so she keeps telling me a bunch of random stuff.” “Really? Why is she so obsessed with him?” “Obviously because he’s hot.” This was true. “He’s also really fit.” That would make sense, given his talent with a skateboard… “And he’s so nice!” That, Sangwoo couldn’t agree with. Seeming to read something on his face, Jihye paused. “Isn’t he…? I mean, I guess you’d know that better than I do. You guys are friends.” “We are not friends.” The only descriptors that came to Sangwoo’s mind when he tried to describe Jaeyoung were “insane” and “deadbeat, sadistic piece of trash,” accompanied by a single new addition: “randomly, discomfitingly kind human.” Given how little Jihye actually knew Jaeyoung, none of them would make any sense to her without extensive explanation. “Hey, remember when you got all mad at me for talking about Jaeyoung? Now you’re the one talking about him!” The comment hit uncomfortably close to home, so Sangwoo pretended he hadn’t heard. Thankfully, he was saved from any further conversation by the professor walking back into the room. return 0; A short time later, the lecture concluded. As Sangwoo packed up his things, preparing to head to lunch, Jihye piped up again. “How’d things go with the, you know, desk divider and earplugs?” “They didn’t work.” The divider had turned into a fan, the seven cans of Black Holic were sitting in his apartment, unopened, and he had only used the earplugs once. “Oh… Sorry,” she replied sheepishly. Truthfully, in Sangwoo’s mind, she didn’t have anything to apologize for. Jaeyoung, as always, was the one to blame. But wait. Hadn’t he promised Jihye he would treat her to a meal in return for her assistance? While it was true that her advice hadn’t been particularly helpful, Sangwoo wasn’t one to break a promise. He took a meal ticket for the dining hall out of his wallet and put it in front of her. For a moment, Jihye stared blankly at the piece of paper. “What’s this for?” “I told you I’d treat you to a meal.” “Oh, come on! You’re supposed to actually take me out somewhere!” “Just use the ticket.” He put on his backpack and got up, but Jihye reached out and put the meal ticket right back in his pocket. “No, no. This isn’t what you promised. Just treat me whenever you get the chance.” Thinking back to the pasta place she’d taken him to, Sangwoo recalled the sky-high prices of everything on the menu. Maybe Jihye wanted something more expensive than dining hall food? “Okay. I’ll buy you pizza later,” he said. “Really? You mean it? Pizza bagels don’t count, okay?” I didn’t realize she was such an untrusting person, Sangwoo mused. I simply thought she was nice… Exiting the building, they began to walk over to the dining hall together. But then, out of nowhere, Sangwoo heard a voice call out from behind him. “Hey, Sangwoo!” There was only one person on campus who would call out to him like that. Sangwoo whipped his head around, and there the asshole was—wearing the exact coat Sangwoo had been picturing in his mind. “Been looking…for you,” Jaeyoung gasped, seemingly struggling to catch his breath. “Why?” “Because we’re supposed to eat lunch together, obviously.” “We are?” This was news to Sangwoo. Had Jaeyoung mistaken him for someone else? Or maybe he’d misunderstood something somehow? Whatever the case, it wasn’t his problem. Sangwoo turned back around and started walking away without any further ado, but Jaeyoung wasn’t done. He swapped targets to Jihye instead. “Hey. You’re a French major, right?” Jihye blinked in surprise. “Oh, yes… It’s good to see you again!” “Yeah. I forget, have we exchanged names?” “Not officially. I’m Jihye—Jihye Ryu! And I actually already know yours.” She chuckled shyly. “You’re kind of a celebrity around here.” Sangwoo did his best to put some distance between the chatting pair and himself, but they kept pace with him. Whether he liked it or not, he was stuck hearing every word they said to one another. “It seems like you hang out with Sangwoo a lot, Jihye. You were with him when you came to the restaurant I work at, too.” “Actually, that was the first day we met! You see, Sangwoo was nice enough to help me carry some boxes. I happened to put a ton of books in this one box—I didn’t mean to, of course, and I should have just redistributed all the stuff evenly into other boxes, but anyway… I was trying to carry the books up to the third floor of the library, even though it wasn’t like I was going to look at all of them anytime soon…” It was like Jihye’s voice was playing on some never-ending recording. She never even paused for a breath. The conversation continued in the form of an effortless back-and-forth; Jaeyoung, Jihye, Jaeyoung, Jihye, Jaeyoung… Is it just me, or is it taking a particularly long time to get into the dining hall today? “Ha-ha-ha! You’re so funny, Jaeyoung! By the way, could I get your signature? Not for me—my friend. She’s totally obsessed with you.” “A signature? What am I, a celebrity?” Jaeyoung’s tone had become much more casual at some point, to the degree that a stranger could have mistaken him and Jihye as longtime friends. Sangwoo found listening to their endless chatter a chore and was deeply relieved when the line of people in front of him started to shrink slowly but surely. Finally, they were all able to grab trays. Sangwoo and Jihye headed to the same station and got in line, while Jaeyoung headed off to another for some janchi noodles. Sangwoo tried his best to find a table that only had two empty seats, but failed utterly. To his dismay, the three of them ended up sitting together. “You have a boyfriend, don’t you?” Jaeyoung asked Jihye before he even bothered to touch his food. “Nope!” she responded with a bright smile. Jaeyoung hummed under his breath. “That’s weird. I thought you would…” Sangwoo’s gaze drifted over to the other man. Jaeyoung was staring at Jihye with an unreadable look on his face. “Right?” she asked, seemingly oblivious. “I don’t think enough guys realize just how great I am.” “Well, I happen to know a bunch of single underclassmen,” Jaeyoung said with a grin, crossing his arms and scooching closer to the table. “Want me to set you up on a date? I can already think of a few decent guys. What’s your type?” He took out his phone and started going through his contacts, but Jihye shook her head, laughing. “No, no. It’s okay. I think I’m just gonna focus on my studies this semester. Thanks, though.” “Oh…really?” Jaeyoung slipped his phone back in his pocket, scanning her face carefully. After a brief silence, he said, “You know, I feel like you and Sangwoo would make a great couple.” Sangwoo spat out the seaweed soup he was eating. Jihye and Jaeyoung both glanced at him in surprise, but he was the most shocked. Quickly, Jihye grabbed some wet wipes from her bag and handed them to him. “Wow, don’t you think that was a bit harsh, Sangchoo? You hated the idea of us being a couple that much?” “Of course I did. Who enjoys being pulled into that kind of conversation for no reason?” “He was just joking.” “That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Sangwoo shot back, drying off his face with one of the wet wipes while simultaneously using the other to vigorously scrub the table clean. The situation had him feeling uneasy and deeply confused, but he knew one thing for sure—he wanted to get the hell away from both of them. Jaeyoung glanced at him, smirking. “‘Sangchoo’? As in, lettuce?” “Apparently, that was his nickname when he was a kid,” Jihye answered for him. “Cute, right?” “Hmm… You two are using nicknames now? Sounds like you’ve gotten pretty close with my dear Sangwoo.” My dear…Sangwoo? Even his own mother had never called him that. The food Sangwoo had just eaten churned inside his stomach. For a long, long time, nobody said another word. Jaeyoung was the one who ultimately broke the silence. “By the way, Jihye, are you going somewhere nice?” “Sorry?” she blinked. “Well, it’s just… You seem to have more makeup on than the last time I saw you, that’s all.” “Wow, you’ve got quite the memory, don’t you?” Jihye asked with an awkward chuckle. “Um… Last time, I didn’t exactly put a lot of effort into my appearance because I knew I’d be hauling stuff around. I usually dress up a bit more.” “I was talking about last Wednesday, actually.” “Oh, uh…” She stuttered, growing audibly more flustered. “I was running late to class because I slept in, so…” “I see. I assumed you might be meeting someone…important.” It was a meaningless conversation—one that was definitely not helpful for Sangwoo’s digestion. Plus, Jihye’s face was growing more tense by the minute, probably because Jaeyoung was talking way too much. Sangwoo found that he empathized with her. Honestly, who wouldn’t be annoyed if somebody kept talking to them while they were trying to eat? A while later, as they walked out of the dining hall, Jihye asked something that Sangwoo thought was slightly strange. “How did you guys become friends, anyway? I mean, you don’t seem like you’d have a single thing in common.” Sangwoo immediately spotted an error in her words. “We’re not frien—” “We went through a rough patch in the beginning,” Jaeyoung cut in, slinging his arm over Sangwoo’s shoulders. It was just a casual touch that shouldn’t have been that big of a deal—but Sangwoo gasped for air, then froze like a deer in front of a pair of blaring headlights. Jaeyoung’s arm felt as heavy as a lead beam. Overloaded, Sangwoo forgot to even breathe. “There were some hard feelings between us…,” he heard the asshole continue. “But not anymore, right?” “I disagree,” Sangwoo snapped, shoving Jaeyoung’s arm away. Based on his recent experiences, it seemed Jaeyoung didn’t have any qualms with touching other people at all. Regardless of how close he was with someone, it was apparent he thought nothing of slinging his arm over their shoulders, speaking to them casually, touching their face, or playing tricks on them. It felt like he was always trying to get closer to Sangwoo. Too close. And Sangwoo hated it. Sangwoo knew some parents were physically affectionate with their children, but that had never applied to his mother and father. In his world, the only people who could initiate physical contact with him were people of the opposite sex with whom he was romantically involved, and even then, he would expect them to respect his boundaries. It didn’t matter if Jaeyoung didn’t mean any offense with his behavior, Sangwoo was offended. “Stop lying to yourself,” he snapped at the asshole, the words pouring from his mouth like a flood that had just been unleashed. “Whether you like it or not, those hard feelings are still there. I still despise you. You can pretend to be a nice guy until the end of time, but it changes nothing. We’re still in that so-called ‘rough patch,’ and we’re never getting out of it.” “Damn…and I thought we had a good streak going,” Jaeyoung muttered impassively while Jihye glanced between them with wide eyes. “You do know the skit is tomorrow, right?” The mocking words diverted Sangwoo’s train of thought, cutting off an enraged demand that the asshole never touch him again. Instead, he hissed, “Don’t come to class. I can play all three roles by myself.” “Nah, I don’t think so,” Jaeyoung refused lazily, stretching like a cat. “Sorry, Jihye, but I need to borrow Sangwoo. We have a really important presentation tomorrow.” “O-okay, sure,” she responded. Jaeyoung grabbed Sangwoo’s wrist and hauled him off before the words had even fully left Jihye’s mouth. Sangwoo smacked him away, but the asshole simply slung his arm over his shoulder. The shock of it made Sangwoo completely stop functioning for a moment—nothing remotely like this had ever happened to him before. Taking advantage of his confusion, Jaeyoung snatched the backpack right off his back and began to race away. “Hey!” Sangwoo shouted after him. “Wait!” But Jaeyoung showed no signs of stopping. What the hell is wrong with him? Sangwoo thought in disbelief. His next course of action was unfortunately clear—he had no choice but to chase after the asshole. Who knew what Jaeyoung would do to the contents of his backpack? He might throw everything into the sewer, for all Sangwoo knew. At first, Jaeyoung went at a fast jog. But as Sangwoo began to catch up to him, he began to gradually speed up. “Stop!” Sangwoo roared. Once again, the crazy asshole ignored him. By this point, Jaeyoung was full-out sprinting, Sangwoo’s backpack slung across his chest. Sangwoo almost caught him by the shoulder once, only for Jaeyoung to put on yet another burst of speed and shoot ahead with infuriating ease. It was distinctly reminiscent of their breakneck race through campus exactly a week ago. Jaeyoung circled around the engineering building, passing the futsal field, the convenience store, and the student center. “Damn, that sucked,” Jaeyoung heaved, as he finally came to a stop the edge of the spacious grassy field right in front of the school’s front gates. Behind him, Sangwoo screeched to a halt as well. His chest burned as he tried to catch his breath. “Give it…back,” he huffed, reaching out limply. Jaeyoung completely ignored him. And not only that—the asshole unzipped Sangwoo’s backpack like it belonged to him and guzzled water straight from his water bottle. “Have you actually lost your mind?” “Maybe I have.” Jaeyoung tossed the bottle at Sangwoo, and he drank from it too. His heart was still pounding away from the unexpected sprint. When he finally regained the presence of mind to take in his surroundings, Sangwoo found that he didn’t recognize a thing, even after six semesters of attending Hanguk University. Oddly, there also seemed to be a bunch of students lying on the field before him, strung out like laundry left out to dry. “What’re you doing?” Jaeyoung asked, plopping down on the grass himself. “Sit down.” He punctuated the final two words with pats on the ground next to him, but he didn’t wait for Sangwoo. Instead, he lay down fully, splaying out his limbs and clasping his hands together comfortably on top of his chest. The stolen backpack found itself co-opted as a pillow. In that moment, it almost looked like Jaeyoung was sleeping. His eyes had drifted closed, and a gentle smile played on his lips. Sunlight danced over his hair, lightening its color and making it sparkle like dewy spider silk in the light of a new dawn. “Give me my bag.” “Can’t you see I’m using it?” came the nonchalant reply. “I said, give me my bag.” “Gimme something else I can use as a pillow, then.” Sangwoo crouched down and tugged on the backpack sharply, hoping he’d catch Jaeyoung off guard, but it was useless. His nemesis had looped both his arms through the straps. “I thought you wanted to prepare for the skit,” Sangwoo finally muttered in resignation. “Yeah. We can do it right here.” “Here? Without any desks or chairs?” he asked in disbelief. Jaeyoung just shrugged. “Why not? You’ve memorized the entire script, haven’t you?” Sangwoo nodded, only belatedly realizing that the asshole couldn’t see him because he had his eyes closed. Still a bit reluctant, he sat down next to Jaeyoung. What am I even doing here? he wondered, breathing in the scent of fresh-cut grass. For some reason, he felt distinctly out of place. “Let’s get started, then,” Sangwoo said finally. “Just give me a ten-minute break.” “That’s a waste of ti—” “Oh, come on,” Jaeyoung interrupted. “You can spare ten minutes.” The asshole took another can of Black Holic out of his bag and handed it to Sangwoo, who glanced down at his watch. It is time for my regularly scheduled walk… “Fine,” Sangwoo muttered. He opened the can. For a long time, Jaeyoung stayed so silent that it seemed like he might have fallen asleep. But then, when Sangwoo was halfway through drinking his coffee, the asshole called his name. “Hey, Sangwoo.” “What?” “What’s your type? You know, when it comes to dating.” Sangwoo immediately scowled and glanced over at Jaeyoung, whose eyes remained closed. “Why are you asking me such a personal question?” “That’s what people do when they’re not friends. Ask pointless questions as an icebreaker.” “I see,” Sangwoo conceded. He began to contemplate how to respond to Jaeyoung’s inquiry. The topic wasn’t one he’d ever really dwelled on before, but calculating the answer proved relatively simple—all he needed to do was compile a list of women who had elicited some sort of positive reaction from him in the past. “I prefer people who maintain a well-groomed, put-together appearance and have levelheaded personalities.” “Nice. So, basically, a kindergarten teacher?” Ignoring Jaeyoung’s comment, Sangwoo took another sip of his coffee. He didn’t have to wait long before a second question was shot his way. “When did you first fall in love?” “I don’t know.” “What do you mean, you don’t know?” “‘Love’ is a vague concept. You’ll need to clarify your definition for an accurate response.” This was enough to make Jaeyoung finally open his eyes, though only very narrowly. He squinted over at Sangwoo, the sun turning his irises light brown. “Are you asking when I first got into a relationship? Or when I first had intercourse?” Sangwoo elaborated, feeling weirdly defensive. “The question is unclear.” Jaeyoung just continued to stare at him, a confused frown on his face. “So…you’ve never had a crush on anybody?” Finally, Sangwoo had a definition to work with. “Oh, so that’s how you’re defining it. In that case, I first ‘fell in love’ when I was six. It wasn’t with a human being, though.” Jaeyoung immediately let out an incredulous scoff, but his reaction didn’t bother Sangwoo one bit—if anyone was delusional here, it was Jaeyoung. The love often depicted in popular media didn’t even exist. What was love, really? In Sangwoo’s opinion, it was nothing more than the product of irrational human minds misinterpreting their sexual desires, a lie the government promoted to maintain the social institution of marriage. The reason behind his disdain was simple: Love was supposed to be an emotion everyone on planet Earth experienced. So why had he never even come close to feeling it? Sangwoo glanced at his watch and sat up. “It’s time to start practicing for the skit,” he announced. “Piányi piányi tài piányi… Qıˇng maˇi zhè, zài zhè.” He’d said: “The fruits are cheap. Come and buy a bunch.” It was the very first line. Jaeyoung burst out laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkling. His teeth were neat and white. “Xīnqíng haˇo,” he finally said after composing himself. Sangwoo frowned. “That’s not the right line.” “Do you even know what I said?” “Yes. ‘This is nice.’” “Really? I think so, too.” Sangwoo pressed his lips together in irritation, then sneezed when his nose began to tickle. His stomach felt strange, like a bunch of birds were swooping around in circles inside it. Although, on second thought…maybe those birds were actually butterflies. return 0; The end of March arrived with an unexpected cold front, which stood in sharp contrast to the mild weather of the previous few weeks. Sangwoo managed to stay fairly warm by donning a puffer jacket, but he couldn’t avoid the freezing wind that whooshed over his face while he pedaled away on his bike. By the time he reached the humanities building, his cheeks had gone red from the biting cold. After claiming a seat in the Intermediate Chinese classroom, Sangwoo carefully began to read over the skit’s script one more time, checking that he had all three roles fully memorized; he still didn’t entirely believe Jaeyoung would show up. Once he was satisfied, he headed to the bathroom with his costume and wig. As usual, he entered the left stall instead of the one on the right, which was perpetually marked “OUT OF ORDER.” It took exactly four minutes for Sangwoo to change into his costume. That should leave me plenty of time to go over the script once more, he determined. He walked back into the classroom through the back door to do just that, but was immediately confronted by the sight of Jaeyoung sitting in the seat next to his, hunched over and looking at his phone. The asshole was dressed in the shiny yellow costume he had picked out. His wig was slightly crooked, leaving his hair to stick out from under the skin-colored silicone part. Jaeyoung was the personification of unpredictability and spontaneity. He acted like a totally different person from day to day, and he was so impulsive and inconsistent that Sangwoo couldn’t keep track of the lowlife for the life of him. He was a persistent, game-breaking error—but one that Sangwoo had somehow grown used to. In fact, Sangwoo found that he had become accustomed to the deadbeat, sadistic piece of trash. It was a terrifying and nonsensical notion, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it, since Jaeyoung had just glanced back and caught sight of him. The asshole burst out laughing and pointed at Sangwoo with one finger, as if they weren’t wearing nearly identical costumes. “Why are you so early today?” Sangwoo asked nonchalantly. “I’m the TA for this class, remember?” It was a slightly ridiculous thing to say, given that Sangwoo had never witnessed Jaeyoung doing anything that a TA would usually do. The only thing he managed in reply was a noncommittal “Right…” After kicking Jaeyoung’s long legs out of the way, Sangwoo claimed his seat. Deciding his memory would benefit from one last review of the script, he sat with one hand on his temple and stared at the paper with the dialogue written out on it. Jaeyoung took the chance to start snapping several pictures of Sangwoo with his phone. Scowling, Sangwoo covered his face. “Stop it.” “You know, you should dress like that more often. That outfit was made for you,” Jaeyoung said with a big grin. He scrolled through the pictures, then opened the camera app again. “Hey, Sangwoo.” “What?” “Wanna take a selfie?” “No.” Unfortunately for Sangwoo, it seemed Jaeyoung didn’t particularly care what he thought. Before he knew it, the other man had scooched his chair right up next to his, then lifted his phone up in front of them. They both looked ridiculous in their queue wigs, but Sangwoo didn’t try to move away. I’ll let him do as he pleases this once. “C’mon, smile!” Jaeyoung insisted. Sangwoo ignored the demand—he wasn’t in the mood to smile for a stupid photo. Jaeyoung shrugged at the show of defiance, then quickly took three shots: one with a smile, one with his tongue sticking out, and one with his features scrunched up. “You look the best in this one,” Jaeyoung commented as he swiped through them. In Sangwoo’s opinion, they all looked the same—horrible. There was still some time left before class started, so they decided to use it to go over the script one last time. Jaeyoung was quite attentive in correcting his pronunciation. He listened to each line Sangwoo said very carefully, then forced him to repeat it if it wasn’t satisfactory—which meant Sangwoo ended up having to repeat most of the script. Soon, other students began filing into the classroom. Some of them pointed at Jaeyoung and Sangwoo and giggled loudly, while others even came over to comment on their costumes. The professor arrived slightly early as well, and she burst out laughing when she saw them. Her amusement was obvious even after class started—her lips twitched visibly whenever she glanced over at them. The day’s class was structured so that the professor would only lecture for thirty minutes, with the last twenty minutes reserved for three teams of students to do their skits. The first pair presented themselves as a married Chinese couple who were on a trip in Paris, using phrases such as “What is that?” and “That is the Eiffel Tower.” The second team’s skit was centered around a Hanguk University student showing a friend from China around the campus—which made Sangwoo suspect that they’d overheard his idea. Then it was finally Sangwoo and Jaeyoung’s turn. “Jaeyoung and Sangwoo, you’re up,” the professor said with a smile. Jaeyoung rose from his seat and stretched like a cat, then shot Sangwoo a confident grin that didn’t harbor even a hint of anxiety. He retrieved some grapes, a phone, and a baseball bat from his backpack before walking to the front of the room with Sangwoo following behind him, empty-handed. Before they could get started, their classmates burst into applause. Seeing the professor begin to film them with her phone, some even snapped pictures of them. It only took a moment for them to set everything up. Taking a deep breath, Sangwoo faced the audience and announced in Chinese that the fruit was on sale. Jaeyoung, who had been hiding behind a pillar, approached him with an air of arrogance, fanning himself like some sort of uptight noble. He examined the grapes sitting on the desk and asked Sangwoo how much they cost. As Sangwoo recited the next line, his eyes met Jaeyoung’s. There was something agleam in the other man’s gaze—Sangwoo could almost hear him whispering, See? I told you everything was gonna be fine! Aren’t you having a blast? Actually…he kind of was. Sangwoo’s anxiety melted away, a mild elation taking its place. It was a strange, foreign feeling. It turned out that Jaeyoung had prepared for the skit much more thoroughly than Sangwoo had expected. Not only had he gathered up a bunch of props, but he’d also made the preparations necessary to play the appropriate sound effects during the phone call scene. When Sangwoo began his short monologue, Jaeyoung quickly ducked behind the podium so he could change into another costume for his second role. Sangwoo hadn’t understood why Jaeyoung was such a renowned member of the drama club before, but he got it now. In this moment, the classroom was his stage. Sure, he’d ended up altering some of the lines slightly, but Jaeyoung made sure to keep the meaning consistent. The only fault that Sangwoo could find in his performance was the unscripted line Jaeyoung had randomly added in the middle of the skit: “Are you a robot?” Aside from that, however, Sangwoo had to admit that Jaeyoung had done an incredible job. It would be an understatement to say their skit was well-received. The professor had dropped her pen while filling out the rubric because she was laughing so hard, while the audience had clapped and cheered every time Sangwoo had mechanically recited a line from memory. Several students decided to record the whole thing on their phones, and with all the pictures the rest of the class were taking of the two of them, Sangwoo was starting to feel like a celebrity on the red carpet. In the end, he had no choice but to admit that Jaeyoung’s cocky “I got this” had been nothing but the truth. After the skit, Jaeyoung reached a hand out to Sangwoo, who returned the high-five without even thinking about it. In that moment, the animosity he’d been carrying in his heart melted away, replaced by something that almost felt like camaraderie. Later, after the professor had dismissed everyone early, she approached Sangwoo and Jaeyoung. “That was very, very entertaining,” she said, giving them a double thumbs-up. “In fact, I would say that was the best skit I’ve seen in the past ten years.” Turning to Sangwoo specifically, she added, “Your pronunciation needs some work, but I’m very impressed that you managed to memorize so many lines.” “Thank you, Professor.” “Of course. Would you be interested in being a TA for this class?” It was a completely unexpected question. “What?” “Don’t worry, it’s really a low-pressure job. All I ask is that, on certain days, you arrive a little bit early for class to print out some materials. Other than that, you just have to collect the exam papers for midterms and finals, as well as the class assignments. You’ll get extra credit for the class, and I’ll also treat you to a meal at some point.” As the words slowly registered in Sangwoo’s brain, his gaze flicked to Jaeyoung, who was watching the professor impassively. Whatever doubts Sangwoo had about the professor’s meaning abruptly evaporated when she clarified, “Jaeyoung recommended you as his replacement.” The two-week period to drop classes was almost up, which meant Jaeyoung was withdrawing from those he had no reason to take. Sangwoo knew this very well—he’d been anxiously awaiting that moment for quite a while now. But it hadn’t hit him until this very moment that there were only two days left until Jaeyoung’s departure. “Sure, I’ll be your TA,” he said with a nod. The professor smiled at him. “I’m looking forward to working with you.” Then, to Jaeyoung, she added: “Thanks for everything, Jaeyoung, including staying until the conclusion of the skit. I’m sure Sangwoo appreciates it.” “Of course, Professor. I’m sorry for dropping out after agreeing to be the TA.” “Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing wrong with pursuing new opportunities. Can I offer you an early congratulations on your acceptance?” Jaeyoung let out a bashful laugh. “I did apply again, but I don’t know if I’ll get accepted.” “Oh, I’m sure they’ll take you. They already accepted your application once!” Although he was packed up and ready to go, Sangwoo stood there blankly, listening to their conversation. The professor went on to ask Jaeyoung about his future plans, to which he responded that he was going to relax for a bit while preparing to study abroad. The conversation then shifted to the school Jaeyoung would be attending to get his graduate degree. “Talking about this reminds me of my own time studying abroad,” the professor commented. “Feel free to come visit.” “You make it sound like you’ve already been accepted!” “You’re the one who said they’d take me.” It was a friendly, playful conversation, but Sangwoo couldn’t bring himself to smile. Something that resembled disappointment was coiling in his chest. “Let’s go,” Jaeyoung said, snapping Sangwoo out of his thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed that the other man had finished his conversation with the professor. After bidding her goodbye, the pair of students headed to the bathroom, where they changed out of their costumes. Sangwoo returned the borrowed clothes and wig to Jaeyoung. When they arrived at their next classroom, the navy backpack was conspicuously missing from its usual spot. Sangwoo blinked in surprise and looked at Jaeyoung, who yanked his phone out of his pocket with a scowl. Ignoring him, Sangwoo made a beeline for his rightful seat and plopped himself down without an ounce of hesitation. Jaeyoung stared at him with an unreadable look on his face, then looked away to dial someone. After a few rings, someone picked up. Jaeyoung apparently had the volume to the max, because the voice on the line was loud enough for the entire classroom to hear. “What’s up, Jaeyoung?” “The hell’s wrong with you? Is it really that hard to look after a backpack for two weeks?” There was a short pause. “Huh? You didn’t give me the backpack yesterday!” “I didn’t…?” “No! It wasn’t in the locker or practice rooms, so I figured you wanted me to stop.” For a long moment, Jaeyoung stayed silent. Then he slapped a hand over his face in sudden realization. “Damn… I forgot to grab it because I was so wasted two days ago. Someone else must have taken it or something.” “Then do you want me to keep doing it? Hey, I know it might not seem like a big deal, but it takes a lot of effort… Also, I don’t get why you’re so set on saving that seat! It’s not like you ever pay attention in class.” “Shut up. I’m so done with you.” “Awww, c’mon! You’re not mad, are you? Also, can you drop by the clubroom in the afternoon? Everybody misses you. We can order some takeout.” The person on the other line continued to ramble on in a cheerful voice until Jaeyoung finally hung up on them. Another overly friendly person… Sangwoo silently mused. He was starting to feel like the entire campus interacted with Jaeyoung that way. It would explain why he didn’t hesitate to treat Sangwoo that way as well. Jaeyoung scoffed incredulously, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “I guess I won’t be able to harass you today,” he grumbled. Sangwoo was reminded anew that he was, in fact, being harassed. Silence fell for a short moment, and then Jaeyoung called his name. When Sangwoo looked over at him, he smiled a bit crookedly. “If I’m being honest, I don’t understand a single thing that’s being taught in this class. Also, the professor’s glasses look sooo freaking goofy and they make him look like that one cartoon penguin. I have to keep myself from laughing. Anyway… I’ll let you enjoy some peace and quiet here from now on.” Not only was he announcing his retreat, but he was explaining exactly why he was doing it. Sangwoo just nodded in reply. “Are you going to the dining hall later?” He nodded again. “You sure you don’t wanna go to a restaurant with me…?” Sangwoo nodded a third time. “All right, then. Enjoy the school food,” Jaeyoung said. He placed a can of Black Holic in front of Sangwoo, then patted him on the back of the head while he wasn’t paying attention. The touch was so light and fleeting that it took Sangwoo a few seconds to process what had happened. By the time he’d angrily opened his mouth to let Jaeyoung have it, the other man was already halfway out of the room. Sangwoo bristled with dissatisfaction. Every single time Jaeyoung had touched him, his reaction had been so delayed that he hadn’t been able to voice an objection. Next time I see that jerk, I’ll tell him just how much I hate it when he does stuff like that. Then he’ll never try it again. As Sangwoo wrestled with his annoyance—a rather difficult thing to do when one found oneself without a target—the class’s professor walked in and began the lecture. Theoretically, he should have been able to focus now that Jaeyoung was gone and he’d reclaimed his rightful seat. But to Sangwoo’s dismay, he found he couldn’t stop thinking about the professor’s glasses and resemblance to a certain cartoon penguin. It made him feel like a total idiot. Although Engineering Mathematics 2 was supposed to be one of Sangwoo’s best subjects, he found he couldn’t comprehend anything that was being taught that day. It was the exact same thing he’d experienced during his last Algorithms class. The lecture flew by, and the room had already filled with the sound of students packing up their belongings before Sangwoo realized that class was over. He ate lunch by himself, feeling increasingly confused and frustrated. What’s the matter with me? he asked himself over and over again, but he couldn’t come up with an answer. Forcing his mind to slow down, Sangwoo tried to organize his thoughts. The issue had started when Jaeyoung began his campaign of harassment, sitting next to him in and generally being a huge distraction. But…Jaeyoung wasn’t trying to make his life a living hell anymore. The fundamental issue had been solved. So why were his internal functions still so messed up? Lifting a bite of food to his mouth with one hand, Sangwoo reached out and flipped his phone frontside up with the other. A text notification was waiting for him. His thumb hovered above the reply button for a moment, but he ended up shoving the phone in his backpack, unable to come up with a suitable response. Once lunch was over, Sangwoo walked two whole laps around the campus. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that refused to be defined. Frustration, however, remained a constant. When he arrived at the library, the emotion refused to dissipate. In fact, it grew even more violent, shifting into something he could only guess was anger. But what could he do about it? He’d never experienced anything like this before. He couldn’t pinpoint what the strange emotion was directed toward or why it was there, let alone figure out how to resolve it. “Hey, you’re still here!” a voice called out. It belonged to Jaeyoung. Only seconds before, Sangwoo had been contemplating packing up and heading home early, but as he watched the other man walk closer, the thought vanished without a trace. Jaeyoung took the seat next to Sangwoo, then pulled the notebook he’d “purchased” from Sangwoo from his bag. Then he reached out and snatched up a pen from Sangwoo’s pencil pouch like the thing belonged to him. He proceeded to doodle in the notebook in his usual position: hunched over with his legs crossed and the notebook atop his knee. Silence stretched out between them, but as it did, something shifted inside Sangwoo. The emotional turmoil that had been plaguing him subsided in an instant, and when he looked over at his textbook, he found he could finally understand the words inside of it again. Relief came first, quickly followed by disbelief. This is bad. Apparently, Sangwoo’s subconscious mind had come to believe that his new default state was being with Jaeyoung. The lowlife’s chaos must have warped his brain, changing the variables he’d once used to define normality. Sangwoo found himself thinking about a common misconception surrounding Chernobyl. Most people thought the land was uninhabitable after the nuclear incident of 1986, but in reality, hawfinches with abnormally high antioxidant levels flourished there. It had become their new normal. Could he have adapted to his own personal disaster just like those birds had? For once, Jaeyoung didn’t actively try to annoy Sangwoo while he was studying. In fact, he stayed completely silent. The only noise that reached Sangwoo’s ears was the occasional sound of pen scratching against paper. For the first time in a very long while, Sangwoo found himself feeling supremely satisfied. He reviewed the topics that he hadn’t managed to pay attention to during class with ease, one after another. When was the last time he’d been able to immerse himself in his studies like this? It certainly hadn’t been any time since Jaeyoung had forced his way into his life. Minutes flew by and turned into hours before Sangwoo finally put his pencil down on his textbook, inwardly giving himself a pat on the back. He glanced over at Jaeyoung, only to find that the senior had been staring at his face again. He’d been drawing another portrait. When their eyes met, Jaeyoung smiled and whispered, “Your hat’s crooked.” Without further ado, he reached out and fixed the offending headwear himself. Sangwoo didn’t react, knowing full well that there was nothing for him to get mad at Jaeyoung for—he’d essentially announced what he was going to do in advance, after all. But then Jaeyoung didn’t pull away. His hand remained resting on Sangwoo’s head, gradually pressing down with increasing force. “Hey, Sangwoo… There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” The words felt absurdly loud in the silence of the library, while the hand on his head felt like a lead weight. But for some reason, Sangwoo just couldn’t bring himself to tell Jaeyoung to please stop touching him, for heaven’s sake. It felt like time itself had screeched to a halt. Sangwoo’s nerves went into overdrive. Suddenly, the very air seemed to be pressing in on him. His eyes roamed around Jaeyoung’s face with an inexplicable intensity—he’d drawn so close that Sangwoo could even see his pores. The lights beaming down from the ceiling reflected off Jaeyoung’s brown eyes. His gaze felt unfathomably deep, which was stupid, since Sangwoo knew the exact structure of the human eye. But that thought evaporated when Jaeyoung blinked very slowly, sending the shadows cast by his eyelashes drifting across his face. There was a piece of grass stuck to his bangs. He’d probably been rolling around on the lawn again. I wonder if he was lying there like he was last time. Before he’d fully comprehended what he was doing, Sangwoo had reached out and plucked the grass from Jaeyoung’s hair. Jaeyoung flinched visibly, then wetted his lips, the movement strangely sensual. His pink tongue flicked out, slowly swiping over his upper lip from right to left. The moment seemed to warp and stretch. The theory of special relativity, Sangwoo managed to think. It was the only way to explain what he was experiencing. ERROR! ERROR! ERROR! WARNING! — MALFUNCTION WARNING! — MALFUNCTION WARNING! — MALFUNCTION Sangwoo could almost feel his blood racing through his veins. His heart was pounding like a giant drum. His stomach twisted, goose bumps racing all over his skin. Emergency! Emergency! his brain was screeching. Overall, it was a reaction that was completely inappropriate for the situation. Confusion and despair rolled over him like a wave. Desperate to distract himself and quell his body’s reaction, Sangwoo turned to reciting the national anthem. U-until the East Sea’s…waves…are dry, and Mt. Baekdu torn awa— No! Worn away… Jaeyoung, meanwhile, leaned in even more, his hand still heavy on Sangwoo’s head. His lips got closer and closer, and Sangwoo stared at them without even blinking until they’d disappeared from sight. Jaeyoung’s ear piercing grazed Sangwoo’s cheek, followed by the soft ruffle of his hair. The smell of cigarette smoke assaulted Sangwoo’s nostrils. A hot puff of an exhale drifted over Sangwoo’s ear. “Wanna watch a movie with me?” Jaeyoung whispered. The words traveled to Sangwoo’s brain as electric signals, upon which time their message was rapidly decoded. The process was almost instantaneous, its time measurable through his physical reaction to the mental stimuli: a red-hot blush that traveled all the way up his neck to color his face. Even worse, a certain part of his lower body entirely overrode his commands. His autonomic nervous system had seized control instead. Sangwoo sprang from his seat and bolted out the study room door. It was possible that he knocked over his chair in the process, but he didn’t look back to check. He was too busy storming into the men’s bathroom like a raging bull. When he finally came to a stop in front of the mirror, Sangwoo was panting like he’d just run a marathon. His face flushed from top to bottom—he had to get it back to normal. Still breathing heavily, Sangwoo bent over the sink and splashed cold water on his face, hoping that would suppress the heat that was burning inside him. What in the world is happening to me? It wasn’t that he didn’t understand exactly when and why a man’s reproductive organ became hard—he just didn’t get why the phenomenon was occurring at this moment. There was absolutely no reason for him to feel the heat coiling in his lower abdomen or for his penis to react in such a way. He was malfunctioning. There was no other way to explain it. The bathroom door swung open just as Sangwoo straightened up. Water dripped from his chin as his eyes met Jaeyoung’s in the mirror. “What the hell…?” Jaeyoung said with a slight frown, taking a step closer. Sangwoo shivered, an instinctive fear washing over him. He extended one hand as if it would serve as a shield between them. “No.” “Huh?” “No. I don’t want to watch a movie with you.” Sangwoo knew it was a blunt response, but what else was he supposed to say to a man who wanted to “watch a movie” with him? The truth was, Jaeyoung’s question had knocked over the first in a long line of dominoes that’d been falling into place in Sangwoo’s mind, leaving the fortress he’d built within himself in ruins. Jaeyoung glared at him, narrowing his eyes. “Is it because you don’t wanna go with me, or is it because you don’t wanna go with a guy?” “Both,” Sangwoo replied curtly. “I was only trying to repay you for fixing my laptop. I don’t see why you had to run out of the room like I was threatening you with a knife or something.” It’d been a few days since Jaeyoung had come at him with such aggression. Perhaps that was why Sangwoo parted his lips and shot back a rebuttal without a second thought. “How in the world would hanging out with you work as a repayment? Are you actually a moron?” “Hey, watch your mouth.” Jaeyoung scowled, shifting his weight back on one foot like he was ready to fight. The heavy tension in the air reminded Sangwoo of the day they’d first met. Back then, he hadn’t felt an ounce of fear, even when Jaeyoung had cussed at him and acted like a thug. But this time was different. Though Jaeyoung hadn’t raised his voice, a strange, abnormal terror was taking form inside Sangwoo’s mind. Don’t touch me! Just stay away, he wanted to say. My whole life is falling apart because of you. Jaeyoung stayed silent for what felt like forever, staring at Sangwoo. Then he spat, “I’ll pay you for your services, then. How much?” “Ten million won.” “Oh, you’ve gotta be… Why do you always act like such an asshole even when I’m trying so hard to be nice?” Contrary to his words, Jaeyoung’s smile was tinged with malice rather than kindness. The sight of it triggered something in Sangwoo, turning the fear racing through his veins into defiance. “I told you, I don’t require any compensation. Stop acting so weird. Go ahead and bully me like you used to.” “‘Weird’? What the hell did I do that was so weird?” This time, Sangwoo couldn’t keep his voice from rising. “You whispered right in my ear!” “Yeah, because we’re in the library!” Sangwoo shoved his way past Jaeyoung and ran back out into the reading room. The librarian looked at him with wide eyes, as if she was trying to decide if she should try to stop him or not. Ignoring her, Sangwoo shoved his belongings into his backpack, and then marched out of the room with the backpack’s straps clutched in his hand, not even bothering to zip it up. With each step, the next one came faster and faster, until he was sprinting across campus. But nobody followed him. Sangwoo’s mind was flooded with a red light, and a loud alarm was blaring. Something was wrong—something deep and fundamental. Something he might need to visit a hospital to fix. He ran a quick diagnostic. Blood pressure – Abnormally high compared to level of physical activity Temperature - Abnormally high Hands - Trembling Mouth - Abnormally dry Reproductive organs - …Fuck! When he finally stumbled into his apartment, Sangwoo’s head was spinning. Without bothering to change, he threw himself on top of his bed and pulled the comforter over his head. The events from twenty minutes ago were by far the most shocking he’d ever experienced. Something similar had happened back when he was a second-year in middle school, but that was the only thing he could think of that even came close. It had been many years ago. On the road to his school, a woman had brushed past him wearing a white short-sleeve top with the scent of a pleasant perfume wafting around her. For a moment, his mind had flickered to what lay hidden underneath her shirt, then to a bikini ad that he’d seen at a bus stop not long ago. His heart had started beating faster, and his penis had hardened. Even then, Sangwoo hadn’t been completely clueless—he’d known exactly what had happened to his body. He’d only been shocked because he’d never expected it to happen to him, of all people. Feeling a crushing sense of guilt and self-loathing, he’d turned right around and gone straight home. When he’d relayed what had happened to his mother after she got home from work later that evening, she’d told him that what he’d experienced was completely natural, to his immense relief. “Do you know what’s inside your testicles?” she’d asked. “Between two hundred and five hundred million sperm cells that are ready for reproduction.” “Correct. They’re released through the penis via sexual stimuli, but otherwise, they stay in the testicles. You’re too young to have sexual intercourse, so you’ll have to induce ejaculation by stimulating your penis with your hand until you can find a legal, consenting partner. Don’t do it in public or when you’re with somebody else. That’s considered taboo. Also, try not to get anything on the floor, and wash your hands before you begin and after.” “Okay,” he’d responded. “Will it make me sick?” “What an unscientific thing to ask. Don’t worry. Most healthy males begin the practice around age eleven and continue for the majority of their lifespan.” Since hearing his mother’s explanation, Sangwoo had managed to retain his composure whenever something similar had happened. Fortunately, his reproductive system was very responsive to logic, and he was often able to prevent an incident from progressing further than the early stages. In fact, even when his body refused to obey him, he’d always been able to suppress his reactions relatively quickly. Which was why this current situation was inappropriate in every way. In Sangwoo’s mind, developing an erection in response to a particular person meant that he wanted to impregnate them and produce viable offspring. So why was his body responding to Jaeyoung, a man who definitely didn’t have a uterus? It seemed that the error that was Jaeyoung wasn’t content with upending Sangwoo’s routine for the past two weeks—now he was wreaking havoc on his body, too. SANGWOO CHOO – OUT OF ORDER i.e. Just like the toilet in the second stall of the fourth-floor bathroom in the humanities building. For the rest of that day, Sangwoo didn’t do a single thing. He simply stayed in bed, not bothering to eat or drink. The shock of his physical functions slipping so beyond his control was too much. Suddenly, taking a gap semester didn’t seem so crazy an idea. Sangwoo valued his academics, of course, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible would happen if he didn’t put a stop to…whatever was happening with him—something even worse than not getting to graduate on time. Going to class tomorrow was simply not an option. He knew that Jaeyoung would try to sling an arm over his shoulders, pat him on the head, or lean in to whisper in his ear. And with all the errors he was experiencing, it was entirely possible that his body would malfunction like it had earlier that day. Sangwoo turned off all his alarms and went to bed late. return 0; Funnily enough, Sangwoo woke up at the exact same time as always. Remembering that he wouldn’t be able to attend any of his classes that day, his stomach twisted painfully. But this was necessary if he wanted to prevent himself from suffering even further, so he stubbornly stayed in bed, letting time drift by meaninglessly. As he played a game on his phone, the clock ticked closer and closer to 9:30 AM—the starting time for Embedded Systems. But Sangwoo didn’t move, and class began without him. 10:00 AM I wonder what the Embedded Systems professor thinks of me now? Sangwoo thought idly. From the teacher’s point of view, Sangwoo was the type of student who fell asleep on his desk the very first day of the semester—with a mustache drawn on his face, at that. Now, he was skipping class without prior notice. He probably thinks I’m a failure and a delinquent, Sangwoo concluded. But that’s fine. I’m going to take the semester off anyway. 10:10 AM A quick online search revealed that applying for a gap semester was much easier than Sangwoo had thought. He decided to get it done before the end of the day. The only issue was that the website didn’t specify what would happen to his full-ride scholarship if he applied in the middle of a semester. I’ll have to inquire with the school. 10:20 AM My plans will definitely have to change now that I’m taking the semester off, Sangwoo mused. Initially, he’d been planning to graduate shortly after he turned twenty-six, then start his career at an international game company a few months later. Actually, maybe it won’t affect things that much? It’s only going to be for six months. The biggest problem was that Sangwoo wouldn’t be able to make and release his game in the timeframe he’d planned. He’d intended to use it as an integral part of his portfolio when he applied for his future job… But maybe it wasn’t too late yet? As long as he got a designer, he could work on the game during his time off. 10:30 AM Sangwoo logged in to his school’s campus forum. After scrolling through quite a number of posts, he finally found the one he’d made a while back—the one where he’d put out a call for a designer. It was a full thirty pages of posts in, which pretty much told Sangwoo no one was paying attention to it anymore. However, there were about a dozen comments. Sangwoo pursed his lips in irritation. Obviously, he wasn’t the one they had texted, since he’d never received a single message. After copying the body text and making a new post, he promptly deleted the old one. Jaeyoung had ruined it anyway. It was also a possibility that Jaeyoung had turned all the visual design majors against him, but that was fine—he could just hire a freelancer. 10:36 AM Bang! Bang! Bang! A long second passed before realization hit—someone was pounding on Sangwoo’s door. Trying to remember if he had ordered any packages, he stumbled out of bed. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! The sound grew even louder. Whoever it was, it had to be someone incredibly rude and impatient. Sangwoo crept closer to the door, planning on taking a peek outside, but he jumped when somebody yelled so loudly that the metal barrier itself vibrated. “Sangwoo Choo!” He halted mid-step, still a few feet away from his destination. “I know you’re in there! Open up!” Naturally, he stayed silent. “Oh, you’re ignoring me now?” At this point, Sangwoo was scared to make even the slightest noise. He stayed frozen like a statue, his eyes wide in surprise. “Answer me, you damn asshole!” The cursing snapped Sangwoo out of his daze. It wasn’t too hard to figure out what had happened. He’d skipped class, and Jaeyoung knew where he lived since he’d followed him all the way to his apartment before. Moreover, his bike was still tied to the rack, which meant he was at home. And his unit number was written on the rack. He scowled, even though he knew Jaeyoung couldn’t see him through the thick metal of the door. “Get lost before I report you to the police for harassment.” Bang! The sound was so loud that Sangwoo briefly wondered if he’d left a dent in the door. “Open the door.” “No.” “Open the damn door!” “I said, no! This is my apartment!” A heavy silence lingered in the air as Jaeyoung quieted for a moment. Sangwoo glared at the door, unwilling to be the first one to speak. Suddenly, Jaeyoung exploded. “Are you serious? You skipped class just because I asked you to watch a movie with me?! I know damn well you’re trying to avoid me!” Sangwoo could hear Jaeyoung panting through the door, and he realized that his own breathing was turning ragged as well. “You’d try to get your stupid seat back even if the whole goddamn planet was going to explode in five minutes! Don’t try to tell me that you skipped for no reason.” “I’m not trying to tell you anything,” Sangwoo retorted. Thump. Judging by the soft sound, Jaeyoung had just leaned his back against Sangwoo’s door. He muttered, seemingly to himself, “Come on, it’s only a movie… What are you gonna do now, take the semester off?” After a short pause, he scoffed and continued, “Here, I’ve got something you can write down on your permissions form: ‘I can’t come to school anymore because a pervert with a dick tried to ask me out to a movie!’” “Shut up!” “It’s not like I was gonna, I don’t know…kidnap and torture you. What do you think I am, an organ trafficker?” Finally, Sangwoo snapped, “Who would want to go to a movie with another man? That’s…weird!” “You’re such a stick-in-the-mud, you know that? I watched a movie with another man just yesterday.” “Call me a stick-in-the-mud or whatever else you want—I only watch movies with women I’m planning on courting for marriage! Now, stop being so disruptive and get lost!” He heard Jaeyoung drop several expletives, followed by a long sigh. “Shit… Thanks for making me feel like an idiot. You have any idea how much time and effort I put into this? Huh?” Time and effort? “All I know is that you suddenly appeared and started harassing me.” “Yeah, yeah, I harassed you for two whole days! And I acted like your obedient little servant for a week after that! Shit, I haven’t felt so stupid since I was in the army. Thanks sooo much for giving me the chance to feel like an absolute dumbass!” There was something severely wrong with this man. “Why are you yelling at me?” Sangwoo asked in disbelief. “Are you having a mental breakdown or something?” “Whatever. I’m wasting my time here,” Jaeyoung muttered. His voice was much quieter, likely because he’d used up all his energy throwing his little fit. After another brief moment of silence, a piece of paper slid under Sangwoo’s door. It was a movie ticket. “Just… Just take this and get out of my life.” “You could make that happen right now if you just got the hell out of here,” Sangwoo snapped. “No, you get lost, you damn weirdo! Don’t ever let me see your face again!” How am I supposed to “get lost” in my own apartment? It was like a candle telling the wind to go away. After a short moment, he heard Jaeyoung stomping away. The footsteps faded until, eventually, Sangwoo couldn’t hear them anymore. That worked out for the better. The thought of taking a six-month break had completely vanished from Sangwoo’s mind—it’d gotten drowned out under the rage a certain asshole had triggered in him. Without bothering to take a shower, he quickly slipped into his outside clothes. Hopefully he wouldn’t be late for his next class. The cluttered disaster that had been Sangwoo’s mind before Jaeyoung’s arrival was now a distant memory. He couldn’t even remember what had gotten him so out of whack. All he knew was that things had changed, and he was completely determined to finish the semester strong. That’d be the ultimate way to spit in Jaeyoung’s face. “Don’t ever let me see your face again!” It wasn’t the first time the asshole had thrown those words at him. But, just like back at the internet café, Sangwoo found himself feeling both irritated and welcoming of the declaration. It only took him seven minutes to get changed, sling his backpack on, and rush out of his apartment. He pedaled to school with such vigor that he heard his bike’s gears creak. In the end, he managed to arrive just as his first class was coming to an end. Panting, Sangwoo ran to the engineering building. He felt sure that everything was going to fall back into place now that Jaeyoung had agreed to extract himself from his life. All Sangwoo had to do was rebuild after the tornado. There were still students from the previous class in room 303, so Sangwoo waited in front of the door until the space was finally empty. There were no irritating obstacles in his path, such as a bag on his favorite seat, and he didn’t have any issues getting absorbed in his textbook. He could still feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, however. As it turned out, anger toward Jaeyoung served as a great motivator. Sangwoo made such intense eye contact with his professor that, after a while, the man avoided looking in his direction. He put so much pressure on his pen that he ripped straight through the paper as he took notes, but it didn’t matter—every single word of the lecture crystallized in his memory effortlessly. He wasn’t fazed when the professor wrote a problem on the board. All he had to do was glare at it for a few seconds, and the knowledge of exactly how to solve it just came to him. Sangwoo’s heart pounded in his ears. He felt like a video game character that had just received a hell of a power boost. Determined not to let a deadbeat like Jaeyoung ruin his daily routine, Sangwoo powered through the weekend with the determination of a man who knew his time was up. Not only did he study at his desk for hours without even getting up to stretch, but he spent any free time he had while working at the internet café on solving problem sets. He glared at every single letter and number like it was a matter of life and death, not leaving a single question unanswered. When he came back home Sunday night, he collapsed on his bed like a log. His power boost had lasted for a total of three days, but it was starting to run out. A sudden wave of exhaustion and slight somberness washed over him. In its wake came a rush of encroaching thoughts, impossible to keep out. Bits and pieces of various memories flashed through his mind: a hand that always touched him out of nowhere, a voice that spat out cuss words at louder and louder decibels when its owner was enraged, a name he used to call out to Sangwoo like an old friend, a pink tongue that darted excruciatingly slowly over its owner’s lips… In the end, they all traced back to one person. There was a virus inside his head called Jaeyoung Jang, and it was corrupting his mind further and further, even as he lay limply on his bed. Sangwoo turned off the lights, hoping that would extinguish his thoughts as well, but to no avail. It was an unpleasant night, to say the least. return 0; By the time Sangwoo reached the third week of the school year, he’d finally debugged his schedule back to perfection. 8:30 AM – Wake up, exercise, shower, eat breakfast 9:16 AM – Bike to campus 9:24 AM – Arrive at campus 9:30 AM – Arrive at first classroom, read over materials for the day’s class, review materials from past classes 10:00 AM – First class begins 10:50 AM – Go to second classroom 11:00 AM – Second class begins 12:00 PM – Go to campus dining hall, eat lunch 12:28 PM – Go to convenience store, purchase coffee, take a walk 12:45 PM – Go to the library, look over new releases, check out books, work on assignments 6:00 PM – Go to campus dining hall, eat dinner 6:28 PM – Go back home, brush teeth, change, rest 7:00 PM – Gaming time 9:00 PM – Study game trends, community interactions 10:00 PM – Programming study session 12:00 AM – Reserve seat at the library, rest 12:30 AM – Sleep Just like before, he went to school at the exact same time and sat in the exact same seat—with the exact same posture—every single day. The content in Embedded Systems felt so new that if you’d told Sangwoo he’d never attended the class before that day, he’d have believed you. The fault for that, rather obviously, lay at the feet of a certain someone who’d been distracting him during the lectures like it was his job. Sangwoo spent the entirety of the class marking down topics he’d have to review later on. Shortly after the lecture ended, the professor called out to Sangwoo: “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Sangwoo paused while packing his things. “Of course.” It sounded like he was due for a scolding. Such a thing would’ve devastated him in the past, but Sangwoo’s face remained completely impassive as he resumed placing his books in his backpack. He’d become so numb to stress that facing a professor felt like a walk in the park. He headed up to the podium, slipping his arms through the straps of his backpack as he went. “Yes, Professor?” he asked gloomily. The professor, who was in the process of packing up a small microphone, glanced at him. “Why were you absent last class?” I decided to take the semester off because a pervert with a dick tried to ask me out to a movie, Sangwoo thought. But he could never say that out loud, obviously. He bowed deeply. “All I can say is I’m sorry, Professor.” “What about the student who always sits next to you and naps during class? Where is he?” “I believe he dropped the class.” The professor handed his mic over to the TA, then focused his eyes on Sangwoo. Most people would say the man’s gaze was intimidating, but Sangwoo didn’t feel particularly scared. Honestly, he didn’t feel much of anything. The professor finally said, “I’ve got high expectations for you, Sangwoo.” “You know my name…?” “Of course. Every professor in the department knows you.” The professor smiled, but the expression was so faint that Sangwoo nearly missed it. “I must admit, I was a bit disappointed at first, but you still have time to redeem yourself. I have faith in your abilities.” “Yes, Professor.” Sangwoo bowed a second time, then left the classroom and headed to the dining hall. At this point, he’d developed a habit of glancing around as he ate, in case somebody decided to sit down next to him. Not a single soul was remotely interested in doing so, however, and Sangwoo walked out of the dining hall right on schedule. The convenience store manager spotted him as soon as he stepped into the building. “I just got a new coffee shipment!” she said cheerfully. “Oh… I see.” “Feel free to take your pick.” Without even thinking, Sangwoo drifted over to the third fridge. He watched, feeling detached, as his hand opened the door and grabbed a can of Black Holic from the fifth shelf. I have seven of these back home, he thought blankly as he made his purchase. He opened the can as he walked out of the store and took a sip. Strangely enough, it didn’t taste as good as it used to. But that didn’t make any sense—it was mass-produced, so it should taste the same as before. As Sangwoo mulled over the bitter taste of the coffee, he realized that not everything had returned to normal. return 0; The rest of the week passed without anything out of the ordinary happening. Everything strictly adhered to Sangwoo’s routine. However, he couldn’t shake the sense that something was different. For one, there was a sort of dark cloud hanging over him, which he’d never experienced before. Despite trying his best to immerse himself in his studies, Sangwoo’s life just kept falling apart around him, piece by piece, like a poorly greased machine. His attention span had become significantly shorter, and it took him an infuriatingly long time to comprehend what others were saying. Games were no longer entertaining—in fact, everything felt like a chore. And throughout the day, whether he was brushing his teeth, reading a book, or even just walking, he’d sometimes randomly freeze up like a lagging computer. When that happened, returning to whatever task he’d been doing required conscious effort. All in all, it was extremely annoying. In addition, Sangwoo also found himself dragging his feet whenever he walked by certain places, such as the lecture hall, the engineering building, the stairs of the humanities building, the dining hall, and the library. At first, he figured it was just a knee-jerk reaction, considering how he’d been trying to avoid Jaeyoung for what felt like ages. But even though he knew there was a 0 percent chance that the asshole would pop up again, he found he couldn’t shake the habit. Soon enough, Sangwoo found that he was plagued by all sorts of other, smaller errors. He’d grab three chopsticks and no spoon at the dining hall, or put his shirt on backward, or wear mismatching socks, or just sit, frozen, zoning out for ten straight minutes. They persisted and persisted, until one day, he saw Jaeyoung again. Sangwoo was walking past the school’s front gates when he spotted him, but this time, the asshole wasn’t wearing a red puffer or even a green coat. Instead, he had on a varsity jacket and a pair of glasses—an outfit Sangwoo had never seen before. There were two other guys with him, doing various tricks on their skateboards and laughing. Honestly, Sangwoo didn’t know how he’d managed to spot Jaeyoung when he was mixed up in a crowd far in the distance. Maybe it was the asshole’s lopsided stance, or the way he towered above most people, or his slender build, or maybe even that pretty smile on his face… The thoughts felt too foreign in Sangwoo’s head. He quickly rushed past the group, but he could already feel color seeping back into his world just from that simple encounter. He felt a brief rush of adrenaline, washing away the gloom that had been hanging over him before. For the first time in days, he felt like himself again…and then an error message flashed in his brain. ERROR! ERROR! SANGWOO CHOO – OUT OF ORDER Suddenly feeling exhausted, Sangwoo staggered into his apartment, his shoulders slumped. After washing his hands, he plopped himself down at his desk and glanced at his phone—he’d gotten a text. Sangwoo’s heart fell. He scrambled to unlock the screen, only to press his lips together in disappointment. Sangwoo had been waiting for a text like that for ages, but now that it had actually arrived, he found he didn’t feel particularly excited. Although, the seven whole typos might have had something to do with that. Quickly typing out a reply, he gave the unknown sender his email address and asked for their portfolio. But instead of locking his screen when he was done, his finger drifted over and opened up a text that someone else had sent a while ago. He tapped on the thumbnail image without thinking, and the picture popped open to fill the entire screen. Jaeyoung was cheerfully sticking out his tongue while Sangwoo stared stiffly at the camera next to him. The rubber of the wigs they were wearing reflected the fluorescent light from the ceiling. Sangwoo’s fingers zoomed the photo in once, then again and again, only stopping when Jaeyoung’s face was all that was visible on the screen. But the image was of terrible quality—the pixelation irritated him. Jihye said he’s on social media, right? Putting his phone aside, Sangwoo scrambled to turn his PC on. It took mere seconds to boot up thanks to the modifications he’d made, but he still found himself feeling impatient. As soon as the desktop screen came up, he opened his web browser and logged into his social media account. He’d abandoned it long ago, nearly immediately after creating it. Unsurprisingly, he only had two followers. Still, he did have some DMs from middle school and high school friends that had been sent a few years ago. —Sangchoooooo wtf pick up ur phone!! —SangSangChooChoo when u gettnng discharged? Ignoring them, Sangwoo searched Jaeyoung’s name. A long list of people popped up, but it wasn’t too hard to find the right one—the accounts with the most followers were at the very top. Jaeyoung Jang (Jae. J) Graphic Designer / Graffiti Artist / Skateboarder The bio was short and sweet, and there was a link to his portfolio right underneath. Sangwoo glanced at the number of posts—only twenty-two. The most recent one was the picture they’d taken together on the day of the Chinese class skit. The caption read: w/ a cute underclassman Jaeyoung must have uploaded the post right before they’d ripped into each other in the library. It had hundreds of likes from people Sangwoo had never met. Before he knew it, Sangwoo had zoomed in to the picture as much as he could without cutting off the caption and then saved it onto his desktop. It felt like he’d just taken a step into Jaeyoung’s stalkerish shoes. Sangwoo scrolled down to the very first post Jaeyoung had made, which turned out to be a selfie from early last year. Under the caption—nice 2 meet u—there were dozens of comments, most of them consisting of heart-eye or crying emojis. Zooming into the picture, Sangwoo’s attention immediately caught on to the spiky-looking cone piercings in Jaeyoung’s earlobes. His bleached hair was frizzy and a light orange, while his face was totally expressionless. What a delinquent. I hate it, Sangwoo thought. He leaned forward so much that his forehead nearly touched the screen, then saved the picture to his computer. Jaeyoung’s second post was tagged at Olive Tree, the Italian restaurant where he worked. It looked like he’d gotten a job there through knowing the owner. The picture showed the two of them in front of the establishment; the caption listed his work schedule. That’s the fakest smile I’ve ever seen. Saved. The next post was another promotional post. Sangwoo scrolled past it and found himself greeted by the sight of Jaeyoung in a black beanie and glasses, a laptop sitting in front of him. His hair was still bleached, and it was completely dark outside, suggesting that he was pulling an all-nighter. For someone who’s supposedly going without sleep, he looks plenty rested. It’s so staged. Saved. His cursor moved frantically as he scrolled, clicked, scrolled, clicked. In one of the posts, Jaeyoung and his friends were striking bizarre poses in fancy suits. He sure loves attention… Saved. There was a short video in which Jaeyoung was practicing a move on his skateboard, wearing a helmet and protective gear. The video ended by zooming in on his face as he sat sprawled on the ground, laughing. What an idiot. Saved. Sangwoo moved on to the next picture. Jaeyoung was standing in front of a huge wall, holding a spray can as if to highlight the graffiti: strange neon letters and a black tongue. Weird… Just like him. Saved. In another picture, Jaeyoung stood in front of a black background with his eyes closed. His face was accentuated by dramatic stage makeup. For the longest time, Sangwoo stared at the image silently. Saved. Everything about Jaeyoung was chaotic, starting with his entrancing smile, those eyes that always sparkled with interest, the mischievous curve of his lips, his sarcastic smirk, and his wicked laughter… Suddenly, Sangwoo was reminded of his first time seeing a miniature excavator model. He’d been six years old and had subsequently begged his parents to buy it for him for fifteen days straight until his father had finally caved and bought it without his mother knowing. Even now, in his mid-twenties, Sangwoo’s heart still beat a bit faster whenever he saw an excavator…just like it did when he saw Jaeyoung. Over the next few hours, Sangwoo scoured Jaeyoung’s profile on a certain social media platform and saved every single one of the drama club advertisements and skateboarding and graffiti videos. He also looked up Jaeyoung’s username to deduce his interests and even found his playlist, which mainly consisted of EDM. Sangwoo dug so deep that he even found a few comments Jaeyoung had left on forums and his product reviews. —whoaaaa he’s AMAZING he’s on a total roll this season!!! —Nah dont buy, it doesnt rly work and you keep spraying all over the place —wtf it looks so nice but idk if it’s gonna last long Next, he drifted over to Jaeyoung’s portfolio page, where he carefully studied his senior project, award-winning works, websites he had worked on as a freelancer, concert posters, banners for indie artists, and magazine illustrations, along with the graffiti and other artwork he did in his free time. Once he was done, Sangwoo moved to combing through the school forum to read all of his posts about recruiting for the drama club, promoting various plays, and exhibition announcements. (5 mins from campus) Looking for a male roommate, all furnished, super easy move-in He blinked as he found himself dissecting every single word in a post Jaeyoung had made six years ago. When he glanced at the clock, he saw that it was well past midnight. What am I doing? Somehow, he’d ended up with a new folder on his desktop named “Jaeyoung Jang,” which contained exactly thirty-six pictures and nine videos organized in chronological order. Even as Sangwoo questioned his own sanity, he mechanically opened file after file and began studying the contents like he’d never even laid eyes on them before. Despite their rather turbulent relationship, flipping through the pictures gave Sangwoo the odd feeling that he knew Jaeyoung like an old friend. What have you done to me, Jaeyoung Jang? he asked silently, the last word slipping into his thoughts without being filtered. It hadn’t been that long since he’d run into Jaeyoung at the internet café for the first time, where he’d proceeded to curse Sangwoo out before telling him he never wanted to see his face again. Back then, the asshole had only been a measly format error, easily resolved. But somehow, Sangwoo’s system was still malfunctioning. There was something going wrong inside him, something that refused to disappear—like the seven cans of Black Holic that still sat in his fridge. Maybe, in trying to get rid of the error, he’d deleted code that was vital to his core processing. Twelve days had passed since Sangwoo’s last fight with Jaeyoung. Coffee tasted flavorless, his favorite video games had lost their spark, and his mind was weighed down by depression. Sangwoo had always prioritized reason over feelings, but he couldn’t deny that he’d been at the mercy of his own emotions over the past three weeks. i) Annoyance (MAX), Anxiety (MAX), Resentment – Duration: 2 days ii) Annoyance (Low), Anxiety (Low), Suspicion – Duration: 3 days iii) Confusion, Anger, Disorientation – Duration: 6 days iv) Depression, Anger – Duration: 12 days Issues one, two, and three had been resolved as soon as Jaeyoung had disappeared from Sangwoo’s life, since the asshole’s existence itself had been the problem. But issue four was the result of Jaeyoung’s absence. For the past ten days, Sangwoo had tried his best to ignore that fact, even as his system crumbled piece by piece. However, he knew he had to take a different approach now. Pretending the problem didn’t exist hadn’t solved anything, so he’d have to delve deeper until he uncovered what was at its core. Sangwoo carefully examined the different aspects that fed into the problem at hand. What benefits had he and Jaeyoung taken away from their relationship? How had their circumstances affected those benefits? Often, the most complex issues had the simplest solutions. Brushing aside the irrational factors—the strange emotions he’d been feeling, how his body had been refusing to cooperate with his brain, etc.—he analyzed the facts of the situation. Multiple paths aligned in his mind like gears clicking together, and among them, the optimal solution rose to the surface. His dissatisfaction stemmed from Jaeyoung’s absence. To rid himself of it, he just had to find a reason for the asshole to come back and stick around. It was the only solution Sangwoo could think of. And he’d never been one to shy away from taking the most efficient route. return 0; It wasn’t long before Sangwoo put his plan into motion. His Pop Culture and Cultural Theory class had just ended, and he was eating lunch with Jihye in the dining hall when he said abruptly, “Hey.” She glanced up curiously from her bowl of stew. “Do you remember how I promised to take you out for a meal?” “Yeah?” “How about today?” Jihye’s previously impassive face brightened with a smile. Taken aback by the expression, Sangwoo couldn’t help but wonder if she was running low on cash to pay for her meals. “If you wish to accept my offer, then come to Olive Tree at six,” Sangwoo explained flatly. “Olive Tree? That’s where we first ate together! I didn’t think you’d remember! But…that place is super pricey,” she added hesitantly. “I know. Are you going to come or not?” “Yes, yes! I’ll be there!” Is a free meal from an expensive restaurant really something to get so excited over? Sangwoo mused. Nevertheless, he proceeded to get her number so they wouldn’t struggle to find each other. She stuttered as she recited it to him. “What was your last name again?” “Ryu.” He saved her as “French Major Jihye Ryu,” then slipped his phone back into his bag. “Hold on. Do you know what my name is?” Jihye asked suspiciously. “Jihye.” “Whoa… Nice. I didn’t think you’d remember.” Sangwoo briefly wondered why she seemed so eager to test his memory. Just past six o’clock, Sangwoo and Jihye were standing in line for a table at Olive Tree. Never in his life had he wasted so much time waiting to eat, but this time, he was willing to make an exception. “Looks like we’re finally up! Let’s go in.” A small bell jingled as an employee held the door open for them. Sangwoo stepped inside, his eyes sweeping across the spacious interior. Between the tables—which were all occupied—three servers in black aprons moved about with practiced ease. Across the hall, Jaeyoung was busy taking orders from one of those tables, jotting something down on a notepad. His handwriting’s probably even worse than a doctor’s, Sangwoo mused. No doubt he’s the only one who can read it. Soon after, Jaeyoung slipped his notepad into his apron and turned around. Sangwoo was certain their eyes met, but then Jaeyoung sped off toward the kitchen. Had he been mistaken? For some reason, Sangwoo had gotten it into his head that Jaeyoung would be the server who came over and took their order like last time. Instead, some other random member of the waitstaff was assigned to them—Jihye ordered a spaghetti alle vongole, and Sangwoo mindlessly pointed at something at the very top of the page. “Are you a fan of seafood, Sangwoo?” Jihye asked with a laugh as the server briskly walked away. “I remember you had lobster last time.” “Huh?” “You got impepata di cozze! Only real foodies order that stuff. I’m impressed!” Sangwoo had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. And, unfortunately for Jihye, he was too preoccupied with trying to locate Jaeyoung to respond to her. He narrowed his eyes when he spotted his target exiting the kitchen and heading toward the exit—Jaeyoung was still wearing his apron, so it was unlikely he’d clocked out. Did something urgent come up? Sangwoo wondered. Or…is he trying to avoid me? Just as Sangwoo was being swallowed by a sinkhole of his own pointless questions, the server came back with their food. Jihye’s dish looked fairly simple and familiar, but the monstrosity they placed in front of Sangwoo was a chaotic mixture of some thick red sauce and mussels. Sangwoo wasn’t exactly a picky eater, but he still found the task of prying mussels out of their shells irritating. With a sigh, he gingerly began to deconstruct them with a spoon and fork. “Do you like it?” Jihye asked hopefully. “No.” “Oh…sorry.” His gaze kept flickering to the door, but even after he’d mechanically worked his way through nearly half the imposing pile of mussels, Jaeyoung was still nowhere to be seen. Unable to bear the suspense any longer, Sangwoo shot up out of his seat. Jihye blinked at him in surprise. “Where’re you going?” “Outside. I’ll be a few minutes,” he responded half-heartedly. “Hey, hold on!” she yelped. “You better not ditch me again!” “I’ll leave my wallet with you, then.” She’s a nice girl, but a little too suspicious for her own good, Sangwoo mused as he followed through on his words. Then, leaving Jihye behind with her new hostage, he hurried out of the restaurant. His steps grew more frantic as he burst through the glass doors and raced down the stairs, but he abruptly paused at the bottom. Shrouded in shadow as he was, Sangwoo couldn’t mistake the unique lines that made up Jaeyoung’s face. Cigarette tucked in his fingers, the older man was leaning against the side of the building as he talked into his cellphone. Sangwoo’s heart began to pound. The villain before him—the one who had so meticulously dismantled his entire carefully constructed routine—had now caused an error in every aspect of his system. After what felt like forever, Jaeyoung’s eyes shifted in Sangwoo’s direction. His irises were stained pitch-black by the darkness. It was like the two of them had been catapulted into a neo-noir video game. Jaeyoung frowned at the sight of him, then continued to talk to the person on the other side of his call. “Yeah, for the time being… I’m taking a break right now.” For a brief moment, Sangwoo thought Jaeyoung would end the call and talk to him instead. There was just something in his eyes. But in the end, Jaeyoung simply looked away and took another puff of his cigarette. “No, you’re fine. I’m not doing anything,” he said, then placed his phone between his shoulder and neck so he could peer at his watch. Without thinking, Sangwoo blurted out, “Hey.” Jaeyoung glared at the wall for a long moment, then slowly turned his gaze to Sangwoo. Sangwoo met the other man’s gaze and declared, “Tell them you’re busy and hang up. I have something important to say.”