Author's Note: One of my goals has been to write more, and in order to accomplish this goal, I've been making myself write a little bit every day. I think it's got mixed results--though I do get things done, they come out poorly, because I am writing when I don't really feel like it. But I'm not sure if this is more effective, because at least I'm sitting down and working. So we'll see, won't we. ^^

As always, she arrived fifteen, maybe twenty minutes early. This time, she had managed to drag her roommate and her neighbor—both in the same class—with her. They thought she was slightly demented, leaving half an hour early. But let it never be said that Lee Jieun was late to a final. Tardiness, ha!

The only problem was that being early made her restless. Even the professor hadn’t arrived yet. In the meantime, she looked around the lecture hall, nosily and relentlessly people-watching. She worried about Hyun Woo, who had disappeared into the restroom saying that he’d meet them inside and had yet to reappear. Beside her, Rae Mi calmly stared at the notes in her lap.

There was a clock at the back of the room. That’d be useful, except for the fact that she already had her trusty watch. It was all gears and efficiency, its lack of beauty not helped by the slight scratches that marred its glass face, but she loved it, and she wouldn’t trust any other watch for the job. The watch had been a gift from her grandfather, passed from his sturdy hands to hers when she had started university. Its secret was its heartbeat, hidden away at the back, ticking softly around a tiny red jewel. Too big to fit around her wrist without slipping off, she held it in her hand, thumb rubbing softly against the steady tick-tick-tick.

She looked around the room again. Her new friend Elli was in this class, but for some reason, they never saw each other here.

A boy with crutches carefully made his way down the aisle. He stopped at the row of seats across from hers, waiting as his friend tried to look for a good seat to accommodate his broken leg.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she carefully considered her own aisle seat.

“Rae Mi.” She turned to look at her roommate, who was still concentrating on her papers. “Rae Mi, do you mind shifting down two seats?”

“Huh?”

She didn’t spare the time to repeat herself to Rae Mi. “Excuse me!” she called out. “Excuse me, do you want this seat instead?”

Rae Mi’s “oh” went unnoticed as she moved all things over to make room for the relieved looking boy. Settling down took her about thirty seconds. Then she was restless again.

Hyun Woo slipped into a seat behind them, but she continued looking around. She was waiting for someone else.

She had made the mistake of confiding in Rae Mi about the boy at the beginning of term—it had been a mistake because of Rae Mi’s nosiness, big mouth, and love of gossip. Eventually, she had lied and told her that she was only interested in him as a sparring partner.

It wasn’t a complete lie. In their one and only class together, he had been the origin of the sharply-flung counters that had speared through her arguments, as she had been for his. He was brilliant, and she loved the challenge of their discussions. They never spoke outside of class, though, which made her a bit sad. She would have loved to be his friend.

She hadn’t seen him since that class ended, a whole two years ago. That was, until the first day of this class, when he had appeared, slightly late, slipping silently into a seat two rows down. He was as tall as ever, long- artist’s hands—surgeon’s hands—sliding laptop out of case onto desk. His was a babyface, which might have been surprising with his height and breadth, but for some reason, the combination gave him an aura of trustworthiness and capability. His eyes were a chocolate brown, framed by thick, long lashes that she had gotten to know well every time he fell asleep in class—which had been often. So wasted on him, she thought enviously, her own eyelashes barely able to pass muster after high-volume mascara was applied. But…she couldn’t believe that they were in the same class again.

That day, she had only half an ear tuned in to the professor. Inside, she panicked—what should she do? Should she say something? Should she wave? What if he didn’t remember who she was? What if he did remember who she was, but had never actually liked her and had only meant those little half-smiles as polite, I’ll-put-up-with-you-for-now gesture? He probably thought she was too loud and brassy and opinionated and annoying. But…she really wanted to be his friend!

She had finally psyched herself up enough to call out his name, paste a confident smile on his face, and wave to him right after class ended. He had responded with a vague sort of “Oh, hey” and a wave of his own before being swept up in the flow of people leaving the lecture hall.

Nothing had come of it. They hadn’t exchanged a sentence since. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking for him every day.

This time, as her swiveling head made the rounds once more, the corner of her eye caught on his familiar face. He looked back immediately, startling her.

“Jieun!” he called softly. “Jieun! Can I borrow a pen?”

He remembered her name? Stunned, she almost stuttered. “Sure.” She turned back to her bag and withdrew a blue pen.

“Here you go.” She passed it to him. He smiled at her. “Thanks! I’ll give it back to you after the test. Good luck!”

She murmured the same to him, turning back to face forward as the professor entered and began to give instructions.

In the flurry of exam distribution that followed, she buckled down and forced herself to stop thinking about Jang Wooyoung. And she succeeded. As she contemplated the possible answers to the essay she was to write, gears in her head turning overtime in an attempt to figure out how to best not fail, she was mildly shocked by a pen clinking softly down on her desk. She didn’t look up fast enough to catch his expression as he murmured his thanks, but she wanted to think he was smiling.

By the time she turned in her exam, he was gone.

And so the paths of Lee Jieun and Jang Wooyoung crossed and diverged once again. Maybe they’d meet again someday.