September, Seoul Korea

Ah, the crisp air of autumn. I pedalled quicker, my satchel thumping against my right hip with each revolution my legs made. Damn it, trust me to oversleep on only the second day of school. Usually Luna would make a din rustling around and this would automatically wake me up. Funny I didn’t hear my clumsy roommate getting ready for her early class; I had been completely knocked out after work last night. Must remember to set my other alarm clock – I mentally made a note as I locked my bicycle near the front gate.   

I sprinted all the way through the quad to the lecture hall. Slipping through the back doors, I dropped my bag onto the bench in the last row – my preferred spot to sit in class. The slides flashed onto the screen and the professor cleared his throat. Retrieving my laptop, I quickly settled in to start taking notes.

“You are late,” A familiar voice droned.

I was in such haste that I didn’t notice my surroundings. Startled, my head snapped to see Kwon glowering straight at me. Oh my god, it had completely slipped my mind that we were supposed to meet for breakfast before the lecture. Before I could apologise, he turned away haughtily.

Three months in Japan always had that disorienting effect on me. It was only human nature to rapidly adapt to the good life – being able to live and explore Tokyo without worrying about a dime – and it took more than super human effort to fall back to reality juggling full-time studies and part-time work. But like my mother always told me, good things that you didn’t worked hard for wouldn’t last long, and as much as Kris was entitled to be spoilt by Uncle Wu, I just happened to be lucky to be able to freeload.

Ashamed. I sneaked a sideway glance at Kwon who was now staring straight ahead, concentrating on the lesson. Only his slightly flared nostrils were a giveaway that he was indeed pissed off with my breakfast no-show. The diva was certainly great at making people feel bad.

My left hand pushed the phone towards Kwon while my right second finger double clicked on the downloaded powerpoint slides for today’s lecture. He grudgingly looked at the message on the screen: I’m sorry, please forgive me, Kwonnie.

Jo Kwon was one of the superstars on campus. The music major doubled up as free entertainment whenever the university hosted one of their official ceremonies and events. The first time I saw him at the foreign student orientation, he was thoroughly engrossed in some old Korean song. His vocal prowess was beyond anything I’ve heard in real life but it was that wide of array of comic facial expressions that made me laugh – out loud, during this supposedly serious tune. Well, it turned out I was the only one who found it funny and everyone, including the singer, turned to glare at the rude interruption.

I expected a shelling when he approached me after the orientation. However, Kwon turned out to thankfully have a sense of humour and didn’t take himself seriously, even though his craft was very important to him. He had taken an interest in me, having not crossed paths with many foreigners and wanted to make friends with people all around the world to facilitate his plan for world domination. Even though I maintained a low profile and well, Kwon wasn’t one of those to be glazed over, we became tight pals. In fact, I dare say, he was my best friend in Seoul.     

He returned my phone with another message typed out: You will be forgiven if you go with me to the pub tonight.

When I hesitated, Kwon snatched the phone and rapidly tapped on it: I know you don’t have work later. You owe me a drink for ditching me. I didn’t have breakfast!

Guilt worked like a charm. I nodded. Now that he had got his way, Kwon was suitably placated. First Kris and now Kwonnie! The men in my life were such bullies. I shook my head, knowing fully well that it was me who spoilt them, even though I was the younger one. I guess I just wanted them to be happy.

**

All it took was one pint of beer to get Kwon showing off his moves in the not-yet crowded pub. Actually, scrap that. Kwon needed no encouragement to dance; he had been known to break out into his special brand of dance in class. Luckily he was into performing arts and his ego and talent was as huge as Korea, if not he would have been ostracised and labelled as a weirdo. And that was the exact reason why I adore this ball of energy of a man – he was always true to himself.

Kwon also wasn’t familiar with the term “embarrassment” and one criteria of being his friend was that you had to have a very thick skin. With a hand outstretched, Kwon raised an eyebrow. Ignoring those watching us, I grabbed his hand, and was made to bump hips with the amazingly flexible man.

The band on stage ended their set. I stopped moving although Kwon just continued, not heeding the sudden silence. Until someone stepped onto the stage. A boy, close in age to me, adjusted the height of the microphone stand. With his guitar propped onto his lap, he spoke into the microphone. “Hello, I hope you will enjoy this song.”

“Go go, Woonie!” Kwon suddenly clapped and chortled, the unexpected din almost deafened me. I glared at his quick transformation into a fan boy. Smugly, he told me, “I finally convinced Jin Woon to perform tonight.” Turns out that his main objective of dragging me to the pub wasn’t to con me of a drink but to watch his new project. Every semester, he would zoom into one unfortunate individual and pepper him with aspirations of making it big, to which he would inflict his own brand of hell training that usually would result in the poor fellow running away. However, he was prone to reminding me, he had groomed successes like Changmin and Seulong, the former who was actually training with an entertainment company now.

His enthusiasm was actually infectious, as much as I refused to admit it. “He compo