“Hey, you look lost. Do you need help?”

Well, as much as I don’t want to seem lost on my first day of a new university, I appreciate the help, so I quickly glance up from my paper sheets and the low quality campus map that doesn’t help me at all to find the C.VI. lecture room. There aren’t even letters on these ridiculously huge wooden doors in this building. Not to mention, I could only find four rooms on the ground floor, although I’m sure I need the sixth one.

However, I don’t understand one bit of what the kind, helpful guy said since I don’t speak his language. My knowledge is kind of stuck between Thank you and How much does it cost? that my brand new roommate in the dorms taught me yesterday. But I’m quite sure I can’t use these in this situation.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Korean,” I apologize quickly for the lack of my reaction because the guy started to look funny at me and a little suspicious, too. He has nice features, pretty caramel eyes and a soft smile that’s hard to look away from. I guess he’s a few years older, looking all nice in his light blue dress shirt but not too elegant with his backpack on one shoulder.

“You look lost,” he probably repeats what he said earlier in the language I know and that makes me smile awkwardly. His words aren’t offending at all, he’s just stating facts.

“Do I?” I giggle a bit, playing with the ends of my hair. It has a slight grape colour in it blending into the natural brown. I quite like it and I’m glad I don’t make the odd man out here at all. Not long ago, I saw a girl with blue hair so I’m positive that lucky me came to a liberal college.

“Well, I was just here,” he points to a chair in the hall’s waiting area, “sipping my coffee and I noticed you walking back and forth at least three times, so yeah, I assumed you were lost.”

“Nice conclusion. I can’t find the lecture room where I should be…” I trail off sneaking a glance at my watch and my eyes widen in shock as I check the time. “…like right now.”

“It’s okay, if it’s a lecture, nobody will say anything,” the cute guy with nice smile tries to soothe my nerves but I only pout in response.

“I know. It’s just that this is my first day here and I don’t want to leave negative impression as the arrogant exchange student,” I shrug lost in my thoughts.

Being able to come here with the scholarship program was a big dream of mine and I’m lucky enough to be able to study my major here in English. I would be in big trouble if they only had native language admission option.

“I see. Where do you have to go?” he nods at me, understanding and I like the way English words taste on his tongue. I like his slight accent, it’s cute, too, like the rest of him.

“C.VI.” I check once again in my timetable and the guy makes an oh sound in realization.

“Well then you are in the wrong building.”

“What? I’m in the wrong place?” I blink eyes bulging and I don’t know if I should cry or laugh at my silliness. However, my guardian angel doesn’t look at me like I’m stupid.

“Yeah, this is the E building. But don’t worry, the C is really close. You leave through the southern exit and you will see a glass building on the other side of the road, that’s the one you need.”

“Oh shoot, I would have been looking for it here all day. Thank you so much! I would really like to properly thank you, like with a coffee. But I’m a hurry and uhm… ” I’m rambling since I don’t want to be more late than I already am and I just say the first thing that comes to my mind without thinking. He said he drank coffee, didn’t he? It’s just common courtesy to offer something in exchange for his help and kindness. But maybe he doesn’t even understand my flustered speech so I take out a folded paper of my messy bag and scribble down my name and number on it. “Call me whenever you are free and I will pay for a coffee.”

“But…” he tries to protest as I force the paper into his hands. I shake my head, shutting him up.

“Not buts. Don’t be shy about it. You just kind of saved my life, or at least my first day here so it’s the least. See ya!” I wave childishly and practically sprint out of the exit he showed me and yes, there is the huge glass building with slightly weird architecture in front of me. How could I mix the two buildings up?

Once I enter this one, finding C.VI. is a piece of cake, I don’t even need to ask for anybody else’s help. The professor is already talking by the time I make it into the room but just like the cute guy said she doesn’t even pay attention to me. So wordlessly, I make my way to one of the empty seats of the second row. The teacher’s monotonous speech about the academic quality and the importance of the subject dulls in the background as I pack out my notepad and writing tools.

We are around ten minutes into the lesson when the door opens again and a sleepy-looking boy slips in. The prof pays him no attention and continues the boring lesson about Psycholinguistics while said boy approaches the empty seat next to me. When he’s close enough, he whispers something to me and I can only guess he’s asking if he could sit down. I nod briefly and smile at his politeness. When he slumps down, he drops his bag to the floor with a louder thud than it was needed. He looks startled for a second when suddenly everybody focuses on him but luckily, the professor keeps talking like nothing happened.

“Can I… ?” the boy whispers gesturing towards my collection of pens. I almost laugh because even if we don’t speak the same language I know exactly what he wants.

“Pick one,” I offer with a smile and watch in amusement as his eyes go wide. He looks young, eyes expressive like beautifully colourful expressionist paintings, his dark hair slightly curly which is a nice addition to his boyish features.

“Thanks,” he switches quickly to the common language of ours and I wonder how a boy so cute and young can have a voice deeper than the Pacific ocean.

During the lesson, I can’t help that my mind keeps recalling my recent meeting with that helpful guy and his heart-fluttering smile. Deep inside I hope he would call soon. It would be nice to have somebody around in a foreign country.

Almost an hour and a half later, everybody is packing, fleeing out of the room, relieved that the class is finally over. And here I am worrying about how to get to my next class. I don’t trust myself anymore with these things. So when my seatmate turns to me to hand back the pen he borrowed, I ask for his help.

“Can you help me find this room?”

“Uhm, sure,” the boy takes one quick look at the timetable I have in my hands then cracks a smile, exclaiming: “Oh I have the same class! Then we can go together.”

“Great!” I smile back collecting all my stuff in my arms, following the crowd towards the door.

“I’m Dowoon by the way,” the guy speaks up shyly and I also introduce myself quickly, letting him know some brief information about me like where I came from and stuff like this. He listens attentively, looking straight ahead but I manage to get him to answer a few questions like what he wants to do as a performing artist major and it turns out that his first pick was actually music but he ended up here. He says he’ll wait until the end of the semester to think about transferring.

We talk a lot about the school, the country and things we like during break time and even though Dowoon looked quite mysterious at first, he can be chatty when he lets somebody in. I’m just happy to be one of the privileged.

A bunch of students wait in a little seminar room, everybody excited about our first practical class this year which is really important for theatre majors like myself. My breath gets stuck in my throat when a familiar figure steps into the room seconds after the lesson was supposed to start. The cute guy who helped me in the morning is now walking straight towards us, keeping his gaze on the papers in his hands. I almost wave to him, all giddy and smiley when he looks up and his face is all serious and modest.

“Hello class! Let’s get to it,” he clap his hands and my jaw hits the floor as the realization slowly sinks in. “My name is Park Sungjin, you can call me either Mr. Park or just prof. Outside of class I go by Sungjin but I’m here to teach you about the basics of the art of improvisation in theatre culture.”

I gape at him dumbfounded until Dowoon nudges my side and I try to compose yourself. Isn’t he too young to teach? Okay, there’s some maturity behind his youthful appearance but still! It’s unfair.

The prof makes us sit in a circle and we do get-to-know each other games and Activity on a whole new level where we have to re-enact a movie scene and the others have to guess it. Nobody disses others for their broken English, everybody is really open-minded and supportive. It’s the most unusual class I have ever been to but so far, the most pleasant and funny one, too. The only drawback is the teacher himself. Well, not exactly he is the problem but the fact that cute guy from earlier is a professor, a great one at that. The worst is that he doesn’t even look at me when he doesn’t have to. I’m about to become resigned to being ignored when he calls my name before I could leave the room after class.

“Do you have a moment?” he asks and Dowoon looks past his shoulder with questioning eyes while he holds the door for me.

“Go ahead. I will catch up,” I tell him and only turn back to Mr. Park when I hear the door click. I’m not sure why but I feel bashful and embarrassed all of a sudden. I didn’t expect to be left alone with Sungji… Mr. Park, I remind myself.

“I see you already found a friend,” he notes and I can’t decipher the stuffiness in his tone.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he smiles, but it seems somewhat forced. He scratches his nape and it’s weird, he knows it, I know it. He laughs a bit. “Look I don’t want you to be awkward around me. You asked your teacher out for a coffee. It happens, not often but don’t sweat it.”

“I won’t,” I promise him and he tells me I should go after my friend. I do as he says, he’s my teacher after all no matter how salty I am because of this.

“What did he want?” Dowoon looks up from his phone curiously when he sees me.

“Nothing much, just something about my internship,” I shrug and the lie slips my mouth easily. A bad sign. “How about we grab lunch?”

“That’s the idea! I’m starving!” he exclaims and we practically run towards the canteen area.

Little did I know back then that both boys will leave a beautiful imprint on my heart when I leave the country a semester later.

One of them breaks it but it’s not his fault. I’m simply foolish enough to fall for him. I should know better than to develop a crush on my attractive, funny and kind professor who smiles at me a lot more than he should. He agrees to that coffee too eventually, after I get my grade and there’s something sad in his usual smile when we get our Americanos.

“Wrong timing,” he says, regret lacing his words and his soft fingertips run alongside my jaw. He doesn’t have to say more, I know what he thinks about. I had a feeling, a hopeful thought that I can’t be indifferent to him either. But the rules! We don’t make them but we have to follow them. I would never risk his career over an infatuation. It will pass, I tell myself and maybe, sometime in the future, it really will.

“Take care,” Sungjin says his goodbye my cheek lightly and when I watch him go, my heart seizes painfully.

And Dowoon? In his case, I’m the one who breaks his heart. I treat him as a best friend even though I know he only has eyes for me. Autumn is full of laughter, tag games in the midst of falling leaves, movie nights and library dates. When he holds my hand, it’s warm and nice but I can’t look at him like that. He’s a friend, a little brother and when he inches closer, I turn away my head so his lips fall onto my cheek instead of my mouth. It feels like betrayal and I see the sadness clearly in his eyes, even if he laughs it off.

“I do love you…” I mutter apologetically, avoiding his gaze. “Just…”

“Not like that. I know,” he nods and wraps his arms around me like he always does. It’s his way of telling: he’s here, he will always be by my side if I ever need him.

It was all meant to end anyway, I have known this ever since I got the scholarship. But that’s just how life is: a series of chance encounters colouring our story, teaching us new things, giving us unforgettable memories. Funny innuendos during improvisation classes or those banana milk exchanges with a shy, sparkling eyed boy. On the plane back home when I leave Korea with a nostalgic smile, I realize: I don’t regret anything. Nothing at all.