There’s something so frustratingly attractive about you.

It’s the way you pour your heart out when you love something, or when your brow crinkles in frustration because you’re so determined to get it right. Forget prodigy, screw natural selection, you’re made up of hard work and steel force.

When you find solace in the way your callouses find their ways into the groove of your acoustic guitar, and when you stop the shutter of your lens at that perfect moment.

In those moments, I bet your heart stops like mine.

You’re not the cookie-cut, untouchably frigid “pretty boy” a person would grasp with their bare hands. It makes me laugh when your friends are so painfully aware of how oblivious you are to the outside world, that they have to babysit you to make sure they don’t lose you along the way. Not that they mind though, I’m sure they love every piece of you, and would chase you to the end of the world.

You deserve everything and more.

It’s when you try so hard to be someone you’re not, but the real you is too candid and vivid to be hidden. You don’t like sitting alone, yet you do it so often, and you’re too shy to approach people. And that’s okay. So you cherish the moments you have with your group, and you show it. Your body gravitates to them like morning dew clinging to fresh grass, refreshing and natural. Affection and hugs are always necessary, as you stick to your hyungs like glue whenever they drop by.

You’re funny. People don’t get that introverts have feelings too, and it doesn’t mean they’re unapproachable or they don’t want to talk to others.

Everyone’s different, that’s what being human is all about.

“Hey,” Sungyeol crouches down to read over my laptop, his chin brushing my shoulder. Sungyeol has that quality of making you feel special, because he’s so friendly without even trying. “Working on a project?”

“Somewhat.” I don’t bother shutting my laptop down, I’m not out to hide my feelings. Besides, Sungyeol probably wouldn’t be able to read past the first line without losing interest.

He eyed me warily, and gave me a look of apprehension, “Man, fine arts students are crazy, I never know what you’re thinking.”

“All you have to do is ask.”

“You’d probably write me a novel.”

“Prepare for your mind to be blown.”

Shaking his head, he turned to his friend, who was too preoccupied on his cellphone. “Sometimes, she’s scarier than you.” I wonder what he meant by that. Sungyeol’s companion was partially hidden by his tall frame, as he faced the exit of the library. “We have to get to class, are you coming?” Sungyeol asked me.

“You two go on ahead, you know how much I like sitting in the front.” The less I see of him, the better I focus on education.

“Nerd.” Sungyeol teased, “But you better be at the study group later.”

I muttered a noncommittal “hm” in response, and waved to the two boys. Sungyeol swished a lock of my hair, putting a few strands out of place. He bade goodbye, and Sungyeol went ahead, trying to tug his friend faster out of the building by groping at his bag. This seemed to snap him back to reality.

His friend groaned in response, “Be careful!” he chided, his hands gravitating to the small camera bag slung around his waist. “This is my baby.”

“Do the rest of the female population a favor, and get a baby that isn’t made of plastic and glass.” I heard Sungyeol say.

“Love knows no boundaries, Lee Sungyeol.”

I giggled at their banter, and smiled at the retreating figures, Lee Sungyeol and the MPDB.