Seungcheol never stood a chance; The Beautiful Student From France is in his room, picking wild feathers from his gorgeous blond hair. The Beautiful Student From France paces around, beautifully solemn in his attempts to find something. Seungcheol blinks, once, and pinches his arm surreptitiously. He’s not dreaming. The Beautiful Student pulls his hair into a functional ponytail, and Seungcheol can just about make out the fair, silky nape before it’s obstructed by a starched collar.

Seungcheol sighs, pleased with the universe for aligning with his deepest, darkest, domestic fantasies – The Beautiful, Gorgeous, Unattainable Student is digging into a pile of ambiguous laundry with hawkish efficiency. Brilliant. Seungcheol thinks he can make up a sonnet with whatever spare synonyms of ‘Beautiful’ he has on his thesaurus app. Something rings, and The Beautiful Student whirls around, stray gold locks framing his face –

“You’re up,” The Beautiful Student says. “I’m sorry – Jisoo, or Joshua, I mean, wanted me to find his rosary.”

Seungcheol nods, as if this miracle is a daily occurrence, and he’s not about to perform a month-long ritual thanking whatever master of the universe there is. “Right. Morning.”

The Beautiful Student tucks his hair behind his ear, and smiles, “Morning.”

Seungcheol swears he has never heard a word so poetic in his entire life. Not even Joshua’s acoustic talents can wax lyrical the same way this gentle whisper has – and that’s saying something, because Joshua has pied-pipered his way through half the dorm building, only to invite them to Church on Sunday mornings.

But then The Beautiful Student has his back turned to Seungcheol again, rummaging through Joshua’s desk. The room dims for an instance, and Seungcheol sits up, shifting his aching legs around. The duvet sighs along in admiration of The Beautiful Student’s profile and curved back. It’s certainly a sight for sore eyes – Seungcheol imagines marching over and pressing his hands over that smooth, yellow pullover, working out every wrinkle, every fold. He sighs again, and tries not to swoon too hard.

And then, because Seungcheol is an idiot, he blurts, “Jeonghan.”

The Beautiful Student is startled, and almost drops Seungcheol’s hoodie. “Yes?”

Seungcheol yawns, and realises that he needs a shower. Stat. “Uhhhhhh, I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

The Beautiful Student giggles helplessly (score!) and says, “Sure. Go ahead.”

Seungcheol rushes through his skincare routine without even drying his face. It’s probably what keeps him from missing Jeonghan’s exit – the boy is still looking through the room, though he has migrated towards Seungcheol’s half of the dorm. Seungcheol’s heart flutters at the sight of Jeonghan’s crooked fingers around a picture frame, and wonders if he can get away with accidentally changing clothes in front of the other.

So Seungcheol does, trying not to look like he’s flexing (just in case Jeonghan turns), and sniffs warily at a white t-shirt. He puts it on, and shrugs the well-worn fabric into place.

Jeonghan has not noticed Seungcheol’s half-hearted – a tad disappointing, but. “Is that your girlfriend?”

Seungcheol falls into place behind Jeonghan, and oh god does his hair smell nice. Lavender? Possibly – it’s the only adjective he can register beyond the three indicators of Should-I-Wear-This-Shirt?  Jeonghan’s pointing at a girl who’s hanging off Seungcheol’s arm.

“That’s my sister,” Seungcheol says, staring at the crown of Jeonghan’s head. “I don’t have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Or.”

And that’s where Seungcheol clamps his mouth shut. He’s made himself seem undesirable enough for a day, and Jeonghan is grinning widely at his disappointing dopiness. Now he’ll never truly be able to live it down; rejection from his first true love in college, followed by three months of mac-and-cheese loathing, before he’ll hand in his withdrawal from school and proceed to undergo a total identity change and wander around the blue highways of America. He’ll probably have to conduct a baptism with Joshua somewhere in that timeline though.

“Or?” Jeonghan says, and his eyes are sparkling with mirth.

“Or… a dog,” Seungcheol says. And proceeds to map out the nearest route to a cliff.

“A dog,” Jeonghan echoes, and Seungcheol winces – Jeonghan likes cats. “A dog, huh.”

This is it. The moment of truth – there’s no way he can live with himself if Jeonghan turns out to be an avid dog-hater. True love may need compromise, but this is just way too much commitment. Seungcheol cannot imagine turning away from every puppy he meets in the next fifty years, long after he’s bound to Jeonghan’s preferences for cats in sickness and in health.

“What kind of dog?” Jeonghan asks, placing the photo frame down.

“Golden retriever,” Seungcheol says quickly. “You?”

“I like cats,” Jeonghan says. “But dogs are fine. Like, I would be fine. With dogs too.”

Seungcheol nods seriously, and Jeonghan smiles at him again with that dazzling, breathtaking smile. He will hoard this memory for the rest of eternity, and recount it down to the last, mushy detail for his soccer teammates. Jihoon will probably kick him in the shins, but oh boy will it be so worth it.

“So…” Jeonghan says. “I gotta go meet Jisoo, do you –”

“Oh, uh, have fun,” Seungcheol blurts out immediately, and the smile on Jeonghan’s face falters.

Jeonghan bites down on his lip. “Right. I’ll see you around, Seungcheol.”

With that, The Beautiful Student slips out gracefully. Seungcheol reels, and collapses from the shock of Jeonghan knowing his name.

_

CATCH BALLS NOT FEELINGS

[today]

scoups [0929]: holgy fafhc guess whaa4a

scoups [0929]: i have been BELESSED

scoups [0929]: GOD, ,,, u guys wont ,, ,

scoups [0929]: aaaaaHAAAAAAAAA

dk [0930]: WHAT

hansol [0930]: josh?

dino [0930]: is it

dino [0930]: The Beautiful Student From France?

dk [0930]: France? :OOO

mingyu [0931]: Jeonghan’s not from France.

scoups [0931]: SHHHHHHHHHh

scoups [0931]: point is i woke up this morning

scoups [0931]: and he was juts

scoups [0931]: //////////////there

scoups [0932]: it was…,, surreal.

mingyu [0932]: You sure he didn’t take anything?

dino [0932]: WAIT WAIT WAIT

jihoon [0932]: does sc have /anything worth taking

dino [0932] HE SPENT THE NIGHT???

dk [0932]: :OOOOO

dino changed the group name from ‘CATCH BALLS NOT FEELINGS’ to ‘CATCH BALLS’

dk changed the group name from ‘CATCH BALLS’ to ‘FEEL FLINGS’

dino [0933]: mine was better

dino changed the group name from ‘FEEL FLINGS’ to ‘CATCH BALLS’

dk [0934]: ://////

scoups [0934]:………………….

scoups [0935]: you guys

_

Joshua HOOOONNNG – last seen 0913

[today]

scoups [0935]: so

scoups [0935]: i woke up to him in our room

scoups [0936]: like

scoups [0936]: ????

scoups [0936]: thanks but like

scoups [0937]: too gay in the morning

scoups [0937]: iM TOO GA Y FOR THIS

scoups [0937]: also why didnt you ask me along!!!!!

scoups [0938]: where r uguys going

_

Joshua HOOOONNNG – Online

[today]

josh [0944]: you played yourself, good job

scoups [0945]: wait what???

josh [0945]: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

_

The first time Seungcheol met The Beautiful Student From France, it was at the extracurricular fair. Seungcheol was heavily invested in the Pokémon conspiracy club two booths away from the basketball team he had been dragged to. It was all he could do to nod and pretend he understood the gnarly drawl that was coming out of Dudebro1’s mouth, and attempt to escape with his limbs and soul intact.

“So, yeaaaaah,” Dudebro1 slurs, “we got balls, and courts, and uhhhhhhhh.”

Seungcheol hurriedly murmurs his assent, shooting desperate looks at the giant Pikachu mascot who’s handing out flyers. The universe must have heard his prayer, because precisely three seconds later, someone’s tapping him on the shoulder and interceding on his behalf.

“Hey Seu- man, I thought you were going for acapella,” the sweet, sweet voice of relief chuckled, and proceeded to unshackle him from the hells of poor enunciation.

“Acapella?” Dudebro1 says, straightening up, and backs away with both hands up. “Woah, woah, sorry, you could have just said something.”

But Seungcheol’s just staring at his saviour, light hitting his brown hair at all the right places. His saviour bites his lip, grinning, an unhurried blush flitting past his cheeks. Seungcheol would like to scream, “CUT ME WITH THOSE CHEEKBONES.” But he doesn’t. Because that is socially unacceptable, and because Seungcheol’s too busy staring.

The Angel gently guides Seungcheol away from the booth, fingertips resting comfortably on the small of his back. “So, not basketball, huh?”

It takes Seungcheol a moment to figure out that he’s allowed to exchange a couple of words with this Living Miracle. He revisits his vocabulary and carefully says, “Yeah.”

They walk until a large yellow paw shoves a badly-designed flyer in their general direction. Seungcheol takes it, and looks up into the dark, unwavering eyes of the Pikachu mascot. The flyer is completely black and white, littered with overexposed graphics and an array of fonts. He figures it’s a sight enough to terrify even Jihoon. The Angel lets loose an amused huff, and Seungcheol looks back at him.

“So… that’s your stuff, huh,” The Angel says, and Seungcheol wants to melt in the warmth of his voice.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol says, and then adds eloquently, “I guess.”

It’s probably a wrong answer, and Seungcheol will proceed to bang his head against the wall for exactly twenty-six times tonight in review of his missed opportunities. But right now The Angel crinkles his nose and flushes The Most Adorable Shade of Pink.

“Well, I’m gonna head over to acapella there,” The Angel says, jerking his head in another direction.

“I’ll see you around?” Seungcheol says hopefully.

“We’ll always have Paris,” The Angel replies quickly, before flushing a darker shade of pink.

And then he turns, and Seungcheol watches as the crowd parts into half for this Beautiful Creature From Paris. It takes a heavy nudge from the Pikachu mascot for Seungcheol to stop gazing dreamily where The Angel once was. He allows himself to revisit the graceful lilt of his Angel’s laugh, and promptly realises that for all the titles he has bestowed upon this man, Seungcheol does not know his name.

_

Seungcheol does eventually get his name from Joshua. His roommate is all smirks and smugness when Seungcheol bounces all the way over to his side of the room, pointing accusingly at Joshua’s laptop screen.

“You!” Seungcheol exclaims. “You traitor! Him!”

“What now,” Joshua says calmly.

“Him,” Seungcheol whines, pointing at a pixelated figure with long brown hair. It’s The Angel From Fair Day, and he’s in Joshua’s acapella club. “How long have you been hiding him from me?”

Joshua sighs, “I haven’t.”

“What’s his name,” Seungcheol says, plopping down on Joshua’s bed. “What does he take?”

“He’s Yoon Jeonghan, and he’s a Microbiology major,” Joshua says. And then, carelessly, nonchalantly, “He says he’s met you.”

Seungcheol’s brain sizzles out of function for a full ten minutes. Joshua watches on, mirthful and knowing. When Seungcheol returns to earth, he fumbles for a reasonable conclusion.

“He’s a Microbiology major,” Seungcheol echoes weakly.

Joshua nods encouragingly, “Go on.”

“He’s really smart then,” Seungcheol says helplessly.

A few minutes pass, and Seungcheol’s still trying to think of Jeonghan decked out in a white lab coat, with dorky lab goggles and his hair neatly pulled into a ponytail. A high ponytail. With loose strands of hair framing his coy, charming smile. The image is too salacious, too titillating, too scandalous, and Seungcheol has to lie back down.

Joshua stares at him the entire time. When it’s clear that Seungcheol can no longer contribute anything meaningful to the conversation, Joshua presses a palm to his forehead gingerly. “How did you get into college with those comprehension skills?”

_

Seungcheol and Jeonghan meet, incidentally and accidentally, on a couple more occasions over the next week. He runs into Jeonghan in the hallway three separate times in a day, and each time Jeonghan is struggling with a thick stack of books. Seungcheol offers to help every single time, and wonders whether Jeonghan will be able to see the work he’s done on his biceps under the crumpled mess of his hoodie.

Seungcheol peers over at the cover of the topmost book, and reads, “A History of Film: fifty seventh edition.”

Jeonghan jumps. “Hm? Oh. I’m minoring in that.”

Seungcheol feels his academic heart swoon for a full minute. “Wow, you’re majoring in Microbiology and minoring in Film Studies?”

Jeonghan flushes, and glances up at him, “How’d you know my major?”

Seungcheol trips, and the books fall noisily on the floor. He’s a disappointment. He’s failed his family, his faculty, his country – there’s no way out except to flee Planet Earth and send himself on a one-way trip to the Sun. If the heat swallows him whole, at least there won’t be any remains for future scientists to laser out his memories or something and put it on display.

Jeonghan helps him pick up the books, grinning. Oh god, this is the worst. Jeonghan’s laughing at him – it makes his heart stammer to be the reason for Jeonghan’s arresting smile, but what if Jeonghan’s secretly disgusted and is too kind to say anything?

“I’m so sorry,” Seungcheol mumbles.

“It’s fine,” Jeonghan says. “It’s kind of. Cute.”

And then Jeonghan’s worrying his lip again, eyes fluttering and looking down at the books around Seungcheol’s sore . Seungcheol nods blankly, and fumbles for a book in his lingering shame. Their fingers meet – Jeonghan’s long, slender, soft fingers brushing past Seungcheol’s thick, stubbly ones – for one miraculous moment.

“Oh!” Jeonghan says, and retracts his hand.

“NO DON’T GO.” Seungcheol’s unmoisturised and neglected hands groan, but Seungcheol simply presses his lips together. He’ll be saving this memory for when Jeonghan finally decides he’s not even worthy of his acquaintance because of his callused hands.

When they get up, Seungcheol wipes his palms on his jeans, and takes the book again. “That was a trial. The real uh, book-carrying begins now.”

“Don’t trials usually run for thirty days,” Jeonghan says jokingly. “You’ll be here carrying my books for thirty days.”

Seungcheol bites back a proposal. “If we run into each other for thirty days straight…Wait, what are you doing here in the Physical Education building?”

Jeonghan tucks a hair behind his ear. “Well, I was taking a new route. It’s faster.”

_

“Joshuaaaaaaaa,” Seungcheol groans. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s minoring in Film Studies?”

Joshua does not turn. “Who?”

“The Beautiful Student From France,” Seungcheol moans. “Him. Yoon Jeonghan.”

Joshua laughs. “‘The Beautiful Student From France’? Choi Seungcheol, you’ve really got it bad. Besides, Jeonghan’s not from France.”

Seungcheol sighs. “He said, ‘we’ll always have Paris’ the first time we met.”

“That’s at the extracurricular fair,” Joshua says, swivelling around in his chair. “And that line’s from a movie.”

“Film Studies!” Seungcheol cries out. “He’s beautiful and talented and smart and multi-disciplinary.”

“I don’t remember him taking Film Studies?” Joshua asks. “I mean, you’re not allowed a minor if you’re doing something like Microbio…”

“Exceptional,” Seungcheol says helplessly. “He’s an exception. I bumped into him this morning and afternoon and he was carrying those books around.”

Joshua tilts his head, and types out a short message on his phone. “The labs are far away from the PE block though?”

“He said it’s a new route.”

Joshua stifles a laughter. “Oh. Ohhh. I see.”

Seungcheol does not, and so opts to deck Joshua’s smug face with a pillow.

_

Joshua HOOOONNNG – Online

[today]

josh [1554]: youre welcome

_

UNKNOWN NUMBER – Online

[today]

1004 [1555]: Hey! Is this Seungcheol? This is Jeonghan. wwww;;

1004 [1555]: Jisoo gave me your number, sorry if you mind.

scoups [1601]: Hi

scoups [1601]: I mean, Hey!

scoups [1603]: What’s up!

1004 [1604]: //> <

1004 [1604]: Right, I wanted to ask about your major!

1004 [1604]: Since we only talked about mine.

scoups [1605]: uh, it’s just physical education.

1004 [1605]: Ooh, what do you want to do?

1004 [1611]: Um, Seungcheol?

1004 [1613]: You still there? Sorry, if you’re busy I can text later?

scoups [1614]: COFFEE W TH ME???????????????

scoups [1614]: SORRY THAT’S JOSHAU

scoups [1614]: Joshua**

scoups [1614]: I wasn’t ignoring!! UM

1004 [1615]: I don’t mind coffee :)

_

“You can’t be serious.”

Someone’s talking to Jeonghan. That someone is tall, handsome, and way too near. Jeonghan takes a book from him, and sticks his tongue out. Seungcheol watches warily – the kid is someone from one of his lectures. Mingyu?

“Mingyu,” Jeonghan says, placating. “I’ll take good care of it.”

“I don’t know what you see in him,” Mingyu says in disbelief, shaking his head.

The fact that Jeonghan has someone he likes is unsettling, and Seungcheol can feel his heart shatter into a million pieces. This is the end of him. Nothing will ever be the same. He will spend the rest of his university career haunting the halls of the PE block. Maybe he’ll finally take Omega Meta Mu’s offer and nurse his keg longingly behind the beer pong table.

“Cheollie?” Jeonghan calls out to him. Mingyu mimes blanching behind him.

Seungcheol steps out of the shadows and grins unimpressively. “Yo.”

“I’ll take my leave now,” Mingyu says. And then, softly, “Just tell him already.”

Mingyu steps out and pats Seungcheol on the back. Seungcheol inwardly thanks him for the consolation, and braces himself for the rejection… that will never come because Seungcheol is going to carry his feelings to the grave if he has to. Because if Jeonghan likes someone else, someone infinitely smoother and better than him, then Seungcheol would rather see Jeonghan smile for the rest of his university days.

“So,” Seungcheol says, taking the books over. It’s another one on Film Editing. “What Mingyu talked about…?”

Jeonghan skips, and a blush lights up his face. God, Seungcheol would die to be the cause of that flustered look. “Um, you heard everything?”

Seungcheol nods slowly. “Kind of.”

“Oh!” Jeonghan exclaims. “So…”

Seungcheol doesn’t fill in the blanks. He’s looking curiously at Jeonghan, who is pointedly looking everywhere else except at him. They stop walking, and Jeonghan takes a deep breath.

“So… what do you think?” Jeonghan says, the slightest of tremors in his voice.

“Uh,” Seungcheol says.

He would like to say something noble, like, ‘I’m really happy for you’, or ‘Good luck!’ or something, but every word feels like a stab to his heart. Jeonghan wilts in the silence.

“Ah, I see,” Jeonghan says, and looks down at his feet. “It’s fine. I can handle this from here.”

He grabs the stack of books from Seungcheol’s arms and runs.

_

Seungcheol’s life is suddenly Jeonghan-free. It’s as though the universe has conspired against him, and has presented him with an alternative that is very determinedly void of The Beautiful Student Not From France. He finds himself looking down hallways, half expecting to see a figure with long luscious locks with a precarious stack of books. But nothing. Seungcheol hesitates to send Jeonghan a message, for fear that Jeonghan is actually avoiding him – he can’t remember what he did wrong to save his life. When he relays this fact to Joshua, Joshua slaps him on the back of the head.

“You’re both idiots,” Joshua concludes, and huffily sends out another text.

“But, but, but,” Seungcheol begins to say, resembling a lost puppy. “What if he’s happy with the guy he likes? And then I’ll just be third-wheeling.”

Joshua slaps him on the head again. “No. I’ve had enough. This calls for an intervention.”

Seungcheol retreats further into his makeshift blanket of woe. Misery is inefficient, but at least moping around is easier than actually searching for Jeonghan. Joshua sighs, and walks out of the room to ring up a few more people. Seungcheol starts rolling around on his bed, and is halfway through his sixth rotation when the door is knocked in.

“Seokmin, your RA privileges don’t cover this,” Joshua warns.

There’s a blustering apology. Seungcheol looks up, and sees that his room has been infiltrated by at least ten guys. They drag Seungcheol screaming from his fort, and push him into the shower. Joshua, hurriedly texting, deploys the ten men with professional ease.

In a matter of minutes, Seungcheol’s all dolled up, and there are two midgets hustling him out the door. He thinks he sees Seokmin sprinkle rose petals on his bed.

_

“What is going on,” Jeonghan says, looking away.

They’re in a cafe, and Seungcheol’s certain that the guy called Wonwoo has just chased everyone out before locking them in. Seungcheol fiddles with his hands, unsure.

“Um, Joshua said it’s an intervention…?” Seungcheol tries.

Jeonghan huffs, and turns away, reaching for his phone. “I’ll call him. Don’t worry. Sorry.”

“Wait!” Seungcheol shouts, and cringes at the way Jeonghan flinches. “I mean, um, I don’t know what happened, but I stopped. Seeing you around.”

Jeonghan scoffs. “Yes, and you stopped texting. It’s alright, you don’t have to. Pity me.”

“I missed you,” Seungcheol says, unfazed by the bitterness in Jeonghan’s words. “I don’t. I liked being around you.”

Jeonghan bites his lip, but this time it’s more sad than ever. “Friends. Right.”

And then it clicks. A resounding resolution lodges itself into place in Seungcheol’s head, and it all finally makes sense. The epiphany sings a musical in his mind, and every stone unturned was a prophecy to begin with.

“Oh,” Seungcheol says. “You like me.”

Jeonghan gives him a look. “I thought that much was obvious.”

Seungcheol lights up. “You like me!”

He grabs Jeonghan by the shoulders and grins goofily. “I like you. I’ve liked you since I first saw you, oh my god, I’d been calling you ‘The Beautiful Student From France’ since the Fair, and oh my god. Oh god. Wow. .”

Jeonghan kisses him quiet. It’s warm, and soft, and sweet – everything Jeonghan is. Seungcheol pulls away, and gasps. It’s true.

“You walked to the PE building for me?” he says, amazed.

“I can’t believe it either,” Jeonghan says. “I took up Film Studies too. It was Wonwoo’s book, but I didn’t want to lie to you.”

“Then… ‘we’ll always have Paris’?”

Jeonghan grins, and flicks him on the forehead. “Now take me on an actual coffee date.”