From a distance, the school bell rings. The shuffling of feet and the loud chatters of students echo among the hallways. Across the field vehicles never failed in giving their soft rumbles. The morning seems quiet overall. The colour grey dully paints the sky.

It’s the third day of October according to Oh Sehun’s digital watch, but the green grass beneath him rebels the laws of autumn. Struggling to stand up is one of the after-effects of having a deep long slumber. The field he is standing on, the towering buildings that enclose the school ground –nothing rings a bell in his head. Clothed in a thin shirt, dress pants, and tie makes him feel that he was dressed for a job interview scheduled for summer. Time, on the contrary, says it’s moving closer to winter.

“Oh Sehun.”

He jumps upon hearing his name. Turning around, he finds a boy roughly his age with jet black hair. Circles under this boy’s eyes is a sign showing that he’s a typical sleep-deprived university student. He —cladded in basketball shorts and a faded red tee— isn’t dressed for the cold season as well. Perhaps he is an athlete, Sehun thinks as he tries to ignore the absence of any footwear on the boy’s feet.

Nonetheless, just like the location he’s in, he doesn't seem to recognise this boy before him one bit.

“How did you know—”

“I just know,” the boy interrupts as if he already knew what Sehun wanted to say. “You’ll get a hang of it eventually. The longer you’re here, the more you know things. But since you’re new, I’ll be nice. I’m Huang Zitao.”

Huang Zitao. A Chinese exchange-student. He looks much older than his stated age of nineteen years. That is all to his self-introduction. He gives Sehun a smirk and tells him that they are still in the country, but in an area the latter isn’t familiar with.

“Ilsan,” Sehun mouths. Something stirs in him as he repeats the name of the place he’s in. The answer sits at the tip of his tongue but he still can’t seem to get hold of it entirely.

He gives up in trying. “What happened?”

“To you?” Zitao asks. A light chuckle erupts from his lips. “I’m not going to be too nice to tell you what happened. Ignorance is bliss, Sehun-ah.”

“I’m older than you. You’re supposed to call me Sehun-hyung.” The elder retorts. It is clear that he’s pissed at Zitao for making fun of his cluelessness. He doesn’t know how he ended up here or how it’s already October when September was just yesterday. He needs an answer.

The younger snorts in return. “Technically, I’m older.”

Before Sehun gets to question him why, Zitao places an arm around his shoulder and went on.

“Now that you’re here, you’ll be surprised –maybe delighted with what you can do. But then again there are limits to everything. They only let you see what you’re allowed to see, and hinder you away from what you’re not.”

“What do you mean by 'they'?” He questions. Things Zitao has said doesn’t seem to be falling into place.

“I don’t know either.” The boy gives another one of his smirks as he brings his arm down. “But perhaps I’ll see you around.”

He takes a few steps forward before breaking out into a run towards the school’s back gate. Without a second thought, Sehun starts to chase him.

He has to. He’s lonely.

And he will feel this isolation for quite some time.