Her phone buzzes loudly, its insistent vibration grating against the table where her books all lay. Distracted by the interruption from her studies, she reaches for it in brief annoyance, but upon noticing the caller ID, her mood instantly lifts and she picks up the call with a smile.

“Hello?” she asks expectantly.

“Hihi. I’m thirty minutes from the station,” replies the bright voice on the other end. It was a voice she had missed dearly. “Care to pick me up?” he continues cheekily.

She was already reaching for her jacket and keys. “On my way now, oppa,” she assures him with a smile. She could practically see the grin that lights up his face. He loved that she reserved that title for him and him alone.

 

At the station, she scans the crowd of milling travelers. It was late; this time was the usual rush hour. People jostle her and she trips, but as she loses balance, a strong pair of hands and a gentle grip unexpectedly grab her shoulders, stabilizing her. She turns around to say thank you, but squeaks instead as she feels his arms engulfing hers. A familiar warm voice whispers into her ear—“I’ve missed you”—and she relaxes, content, in the secure arms of her rescuer.

 

She drives him back to her apartment, which she shares with four other suitemates. Luckily, at this hour everybody was already in their own room, and she leads him back to hers without meeting anybody. The thought that she could have a guest over without a single person having an inkling of his presence amuses her slightly, and she giggles. He gives her a weird look.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, but she merely waves her hands, telling him to keep his voice down.

“It’s finals week,” she explains in a stage-whisper. “Everybody’s studying.”

He raises his eyebrows. “And you’re not?”

She reaches over and taps him on the nose. “It’s not everyday I get to see you,” and he nods, acquiescing to her argument with a hug.

His job kept him busy, and his schedules forced him to constantly be on the move, flying here for a modeling shoot, flying there for an endorsement ad. By luck his latest CF commercial was being shot in the same city where she attended university, so with his manager’s permission, he had flown in one day early “to visit his cousin.”

Sitting against her bed side by side, she leans into his shoulders as they talk about anything and everything under the rainbow and beyond. She had missed hearing his voice, the way it rose and fell as he detailed his passions, the way he laughed—genuinely—not the polite way he did it on television, and the way he sang live, directly into her ears—hearing it on the phone was never quite the same.

Presently hours pass, and she glances up at the clock somewhat guiltily. “You should sleep soon,” she says reluctantly. “You have a full day tomorrow.”

“Don’t you, too?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t mind skipping class for you,” she says earnestly. “Our time is already so limited as it is.”

He shakes his head. “No, that won’t do,” he decides firmly. “You should go to class. Your education is important.”

She pouts, knowing he’s right. After all, that’s why she’s never skipped before. A perfect attendance track record in college, how many other people could claim the same feat? But all the same… she sighs.

He reaches over and ruffles her hair playfully, understanding her disappointment. “Don’t be sad. We can still hang out tomorrow.”

She squirms out of his reach, hands reaching up to fix her hair. But her fingers stay on the places he touches just a bit longer. “How? I’m in class almost the whole morning, and you have to leave by noon.”

“Easy,” he grins. “I’ll go to class with you.”

He laughs as drops open. “What do you say, ‘my cousin’?”

“Go shower now,” she orders him, smiling. “The bathroom’s free and you have a long day tomorrow.”

 

By the time he comes back, she had returned to her books and was deeply concentrated in her studies. She hears the door creak as he enters quietly, as to not make noise and attract unwanted attention, and it takes all her willpower not to look up.

She knew how devastating he could be with freshly washed wet hair.

“My turn now,” she announces, standing up and grabbing her things. “You can go to sleep first. Make yourself comfortable on my bed.”

She purposely takes a bit longer in the bathroom, even blow-drying her hair, so as to not disturb him before he fell asleep. However, when she reenters the room, the first thing she notices is him sitting on her bed, looking through the photo album that she knew was from her desk.

“Hey,” she says reproachfully. “What happened to sleeping?”

He grins at her unabashedly, like a little kid who was caught doing something wrong but still doesn’t regret it. “I just wanted to see what kinds of pictures you kept in here,” he confesses meekly.

She walks over to take a look, but it is unnecessary. She knew which photos were in that album, having already looked flipped through it so many times in the past when she was alone.

“You’ve kept all our pictures,” he muses contemplatively.

She shrugs, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Of course I would,” she states. “They’re the next best thing I have when you’re not around.”

“Don’t you worry about your suitemates walking in and finding it?” No one beyond their intermediate families knew of their relationship.

She arches her eyebrows and gives him a side-look. “That’s why I keep it in my drawer under the desk,” she points out.

He flushes slightly and gives her a childish grin. “I couldn’t help it,” he protests, pouting cutely. “But I swear it was the only drawer I opened.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It was only because you had taped a heart-shaped post-it note near the handle,” he defends himself, and this time it is her turn to blush. He watches her reaction with a satisfied expression. “So am I forgiven?”

“Just go to sleep, will you?”

He makes a movement to leave the bed, but she beats him to it. Jumping off nimbly, she had already snatched his sleeping bag off the ground and was now holding it possessively, away from his outreached arms.

“No. You get the bed,” she insists. “You’re the guest.”

“But you’re the lady,” he argues, ever the gentlemen.

She was already unrolling it and climbing in. “Too late. Good night,” she smirks, laughing at his defeated face.

With a dramatic sigh, he settles into her bed. Not even ten seconds pass before he unexpectedly bursts out laughing, causing her to sit up in mild alarm.

Now it was his turn to smirk. Holding up one of her small pillows, he gives her an amused glance. “You sleep with this every night?”

It was a print of him on her pillowcase, taken from one of his past album photoshoots. She had ordered it online a few months back.

She scrambles out of the sleeping bag and dashes it over to the bed, grabbing it from his hands and flushing deeply.

He laughs, seeming genuinely touched, and pulls her into another hug. “I had no idea you liked me this much,” he murmurs into her ear. She turns a deeper shade of red and buries her face into the pillow.

“Hey, the real person is right here and you still choose that pillow?” he teases. “Come on, give me the hug instead.”

“You know, the pillow wouldn’t be able to make fun of me like this,” she says in a muffled voice. “I think I prefer the silent treatment it gives me instead.”

He pouts for a moment, and then with a sudden movement, reaches over and grabs the pillow from under her arms. “Defeated by a pillow? Now, that won’t do.”

She playfully shoves it into his face, and then laughing at his shocked expression, she climbs off the bed again to turn off the light. “Treat it nicely, won’t you? I can’t guarantee I’ll forgive you if you dare to do anything to the visage of the man whose image adorns that pillow.”

He makes a face at her. “You couldn’t have found a different picture? This is so awkward to sleep with.”

She flicks off the light and taking cover of the darkness, she walks back to the bed and skillfully snatches the pillow away from his unsuspecting hands again. “Then I’ll sleep with it. Don’t be jealous, you,” she teases. Grateful that his eyes haven’t adjusted to the sudden blackness yet, she hugs the pillow tightly to her chest, and then climbs back into the sleeping bag on the floor.

“Good night,” she calls. “For real this time.”

A soft mumble from her bed tells her that he was already half-asleep.

 

A melodious voice weaves itself into her dreams, and in her foggy mental state, she keeps her eyes closed. Her mind was already incorporating the music into the current scene playing in her head. The voice gets louder and more emotional, and suddenly something is tickling her ears. With a sleepy groan she turns over, hand ready to silence her alarm clock.

Her hand hits something warm and very much breathing, and she wakes up in surprise. Through her fingers his eyes sparkle at her, as he finishes his serenade inches away from her ears.

“Good morning,” he grins. “I was wondering when you’d come about.”

“Since when did you become my alarm clock,” she mumbles, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

He perches next to her sleepy form and smiles cutely. “Why, you tell me,” was his innocent reply. “This morning, I woke up to my own voice coming out of said alarm clock.”

She face-palms, wondering how much more of her embarrassing tendencies he was going to witness.

“Shoo, you,” she says, “I need to get ready for school.”

“I can’t leave the room, remember?” he responds with feigned impudence. He raises his eyebrows in a mocking fashion. “Unless you want your suitemates to find out that—”

“Ah, this kid,” she groans. “Okay, fine. Sit in the center here on top of the sleeping bag and close your eyes for a few seconds. I’m going to grab a few things and then get ready in the bathroom.”

He obliges obediently, but not without first taking her pillow and giving it a few light punches. “You lucky thing,” he complains to it, “She puts her face on top of yours for the whole night. I don’t even get a—”

On her way out the door, she reaches down and smacks the pillow into his face again, laughing to herself as he falls backwards with a muffled “Ya!”in surprise.

           

Her first class was at the Engineering building. It was one of those introductory courses that had too many students for the professor to care about, never mind number; for this reason she was able to bring him in without raising anybody’s attention.

He was dressed casually in slacks and an oversized hoodie, wearing a baseball cap to cover his hair. His make-up free face had worried him earlier, but he was shushed by her assurances.

“You look vastly different without all that excessive make-up,” she had told him as they walked to class. “No one would suspect.”

“‘Vastly different?’” he had asked, actually seeming slightly upset. “What does that mean?” He had touched his face self-consciously. “What if a fan sees—”

She had given him a reassuring squeeze on the arm as she laughed. “It just means that now you look like any other regular university student, instead of some unapproachable mighty K-pop star.

“Really, that’s a good thing right now,” she had concluded as they walked up the steps into the building.

Sitting next to her in class, he watched as she studiously took notes. She could tell that he had no idea what the professor was saying, and guessing that he was probably bored, she scribbled some messages on her notebook for him to read.

Sorry about this, she wrote. I swear next class will be more interesting.

He makes a face at her and tells her to focus on listening to the professor’s lecture. But then he writes back.

How do you understand this stuff? It feels like he’s speaking in a foreign language…

He is. This is called “Mechanical Engineering.” ㅋㅋㅋ

Another face. 

I consider myself fortunate that at least I don’t have to be tested on this tomorrow~

She rolls her eyes at him and sticks out her tongue when she knows he’s looking.

 

“Okay, next class is across campus,” she announces as she packs up her things. She glances over to her side. “This one will be easier for you, I promise.”

He rubs his eyes and nods sleepily, having dozed off in Mechanical Engineering out of tiredness and boredom.

Slightly concerned, she touches his arm as he stands up. “Maybe we should skip this next one.”

That wakes him up. “I’m okay,” he insists, shaking his head determinedly to reorient himself a bit faster. “Where are we headed?”

“The Humanities building,” she replies, still looking worried. “It’s a smaller class, so I don’t know if it would be a good idea for you to tag along…”

“Why, which class is it?”

“…Korean…”

He throws back his head and laughs.

 

He was scanning her textbook with wide eyes. “This is advanced stuff,” he breathes, awed. “No wonder your Korean is so good.”

She rolls her eyes. “Coming from you, I don’t know whether to be proud of my education or ashamed of yours.”

“Hey,” he pouts, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

She merely laughs at him, refusing to be affected by his aeygo. “Don’t think about it too much. Just be thankful that between the two of us, we still have a common language.”

After all, Korean wasn’t her native tongue.

Her classmates are filing in, and some are shooting the stranger curious looks. Though she has chosen to sit in the back, she knows that she can’t hide his presence from everybody.

“This is my cousin,” she murmurs to people’s questioning glances. “My cousin, from abroad.” He raises his hand in a vague greeting and tries his best to act polite without showing his full face.

At her request, he was wearing a mouth mask. They were pretending that he had sensitive lungs and couldn’t adjust to the cold air.

“I don’t want someone to snap any paparazzi photos of you,” she had whispered to him earlier, after obtaining permission from the teacher for him to sit in on the class. “Otherwise, our faces will be plastered all over tomorrow morning’s papers.”

“Mine already is every other day,” he had quipped, “but I understand.” And then he had given her a reassuring hug while the teacher’s back was turned.

“He’s my cousin,” she had repeated anyway, embarrassed. “Just my cousin.”

 

“Mm, thank goodness that’s finally over,” he yawns, taking off his face mask and stretching his arms as they finally leave the building.

She is busy digging through her pockets, looking for her wallet. “Don’t celebrate just yet,” she says vaguely, her head still swimming with all the new information. “I have another class to go to in ten minutes.”

“I had forgotten how busy university life could be,” he remarks reflectively, glancing around at all the milling students as they walked through the campus grounds. He grins. “I’m suddenly glad to be a star.”

She nudges him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t announce that here,” she admonishes him playfully. “You’re supposed to be my weird cousin, remember?”

He pulls down his cap a bit at the reminder. “I am,” he starts, and then “wait, come again? I’m your what cousin?”

She laughs as she pulls him into the nearby café. “My cute cousin. Appeased yet?” His face instantly lights up and he nods eagerly, clearly very much so. She smiles affectionately. “Would you like anything to drink? It’ll be my treat.”

“What about your class?”

She glances at her watch. “We can make it. If we order quickly...”

He was glancing around at the café’s other patrons. “There are a lot of couples here,” he comments casually. She shrugs, not too big on the idea of PDA, but does step closer to him in response.

Some girls sitting at a nearby table were looking over at them, casting interested glances at him in particular. As they stood waiting in line, one of the girls pokes her companion and whispers in a different language, “He’s pretty handsome, isn’t he?”

She stiffens, understanding them.

Another girl giggles. “He looks Korean. He has a pretty good figure, don’t you think? Kind of reminds me of one of those famous K-pop stars…” There was a collection of romantic sighs at the notion.

She glances upward at him, to see if he understood any of their comments, but he was too busy scanning the drink menu.

“Does hot chocolate sound good?” he asks, turning to her. He raises his eyebrows in surprise when she abruptly grabs his hand with both of hers, giving him an almost pleading look. But he doesn’t pull away.

“What are you doing?” His cheeks have gone slightly pink at the gesture, and a small smile is tugging the corners of his lips. “I thought we were ‘cousins.’”

She pulls him protectively closer to her, partly hiding her face behind his arms in embarrassment. “Well, you’re my boyfriend now.”

She feels his body instantly freeze.

“That’s the first time you’ve called me that,” he says quietly, and she looks up, surprised. There was a small smile on his face, different from the normal playful one he usually wore around her.

He was genuinely happy.

Suddenly, there is an interesting burning sensation in her chest, and without warning, she reaches up and gives him a quick peck on the cheek.

And then her brain catches up to her heart and she flushes, shocked by her actions.

They had reached the front of the line. “Two hot chocolates, please,” he says warmly to the cashier, his cheeks glowing with affection. With one arm he securely traps both of hers, preventing her from grabbing her wallet, while with the other he reaches into his pocket to pull out his card.

“I’ll pay,” he says to the blushing girl at his side. “After all,” he continues, cupping her face so that his twinkling eyes matched hers, “I’m your boyfriend now.”